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#I could’ve created it from scratch but I would’ve still been taking like the eyes as inspo so
magic-hcs · 1 year
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What Makes It Worth Fighting
A Charon snippet!
✨✨
Everything went wrong. He’s failed multiple monsters by not catching the human sooner. He had to spread so much dust….tell so many little caring families…had to dust some of those families himself out of defense too…His soul was laying so heavy inside his chest. Times like these makes him wonder what he even was fighting for anymore…
Charon’s trudging home with dust still fresh on his hands. No matter how much he tried to wipe them or shake them off the dust stayed…tainting him even more than he already was. As if the rise in EXP wasn’t enough of a sickening reminder…
The door gets slammed closed just a tad too loud and Red is already rising up from his seat at the table, expression tense and shoulders hunched. Ready to attack if necessary, but he relaxes once he notices it wasn’t an intruder.
“boss, yer home late…troubles on patrol?” He asks, even though he knows the answer already. Charon grunts in response, feeling the exhaustion start to weigh on him.
He had been away from home for a week, having to find the human that was causing havoc in the underground. There’s had been no time to properly sleep or breathe with the ever present fear of messing up and getting dusted by his supposed comrades. Because if he showed even an inkling of weakness they would take the chance and strike in the dead of night, it loomed over him like an ever present dark cloud that inter-mangled with the damning knowledge of being just a little too late at the scene time and time again. Failed to spare the souls from a massacre, failed to capture the human before he could’ve created more damage around him. The human had been a rather tall one this time, yet he still wore his stripes…Covered in marks and scratches dripping red. He didn’t go down without a fight, Charon had watched the human fall, Charon had to get rid of the remains, the human’s last resting place was among the fire. His eyes still haunt him. They had been filled with fear…no ounce of bloodlust to be found in those eyes…yet their owner was capable of such carnage…
It would’ve broken any normal being. However, Charon couldn’t afford to be a normal being.
Charon slumped down on a chair, he couldn’t find within him the will to care to keep up the charade of being fine. Of being the ‘invincible’ Charon. What Charon was was tired…bone tired, so, so, so tired…
“should i whip some up, boss?”
Charon managed to nod. And that was all Red needed to give his brother a pat on the shoulder before make his way to the kitchen. Goggles still stuck to his head, he set to work. Charon takes a look at the machinery spread out on the table: a broken tv, some busted junk and some traps that needed rewiring.
It seemed Red had been busy fixing stuff in return for favors when Charon had been away. Dangerous business. If he didn’t leave his customers satisfied there could be a chance he would be snitched on to the Royal guards. Helping him would be hard then.
Charon couldn’t force Red to stop since it was what kept both of them alive before Charon managed to get into the royal guard. Only homage to his opinion was that Red worked when Charon was away.
Red came back with a big plate a little while later, placing it infront of his brother. “want me to stay or get outta here?”
Charon snorted, “Stay…” He was too tired to even keep the tough guy persona in front of Red…plus, the thought of being alone with his thoughts was…unpleasant to put it gently. Red’s company was appreciated.
Red gave him an understanding look. “sure thing…bro.” He said, grabbing a plate for himself too and plopped down next to Charon. “give me some of those fuckers. ‘m hungry.” Charon watched as red scooped up two waffles from his plate, drowning one in syrup and the other in a disgusting amount of mustard. And as Charon looked down at his own plate of waffles he felt his soul get a tad lighter. Remembering what it was worth to fight through another day.
✨✨
@ms-blxodmoon
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happy74827 · 2 years
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Romanticize the Life
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[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: An abrupt ending to a short dream leaves you flustered at breakfast.
WC: 901
Category: Lime/Spicy, Fluff, Alpine (the precious baby)
Not the story starting out strong and ending weak because I got writer’s block in the midst of writing. It makes me want to cry but it’s been sitting in my drafts forever, so I finally got the courage to post it. Also... I did not proof read this (oops) so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!!
『••✎••』
Giggles erupted from your throat as you eased into his embrace, kissing him soft and slow. They were passionate kisses that he accepted with full authority. His hands made their way back to grasp your hips as he pulled you in close, creating a twitch in his pants. He ignored this however with lips moving slightly downwards, leaving a trail of soft taps before making its way to its destination.
Your head rolled back in appreciation, your body pressed against him as he grinds into you, leaving his wet, slobbery kisses around your collarbone. Hickeys soon to be born within hours.
You inclined your head, letting his tongue run over you, again and again. Your legs shook and quivered underneath him, feeling the pre-pleasure soaking through your underwear.
And then he kisses your upper lip, resulting in a sigh. You open your mouth wider and kiss him back harder, hands clinging to his neck. He lets his hands raise to grip your hair, pinning you in place. He lets his tongue slip inside your mouth again, and you groan, feeling him shudder in response, a good kind of shudder. The carefulness of his movements opens up, and the kissing grows wetter and hungrier, and more urgent by the moment.
He breaks apart momentarily to look at you with assertive eyes, hands gripped tightly onto your thighs. He whispers your name, pulling a fallen hair sliver back behind your ear. His piercing eyes burn holes into your heart, making your skin grow goosebumps.
“Buck…” You mutter beneath him, hands flying to his hair.
“What?”
Your head jerks up from the table, eyes wide and mouth half-open. You forgot where you were for a moment, taking in the fact you weren’t in your bedroom. You were at Sam’s. In his kitchen.
Holy shit… did you…?
Your widened eyes found Bucky’s, sitting across from you. While chopping on an apple, he was currently giving you a sketchy look. “Uh, B-Buck?”
“Yeah? What’d you want?”
Oh my god… you did.
“I…. uh… nothing, never mind.” You muttered rapidly, searching the table for something to munch on. The amount of embarrassment you held was about uncontainable. You were a second away from running away to lock yourself in the bathroom.
But, of course, the soldier didn’t give up. His eyes squinted daringly at yours, not even caring when his newly adopted cat pounced on the table — begging for attention.
He would’ve said something to you if Sam hadn’t walked into view, starting his typical banter.
“Hey, Bambi!” His voice bounced all over the cabinets. “Care to explain why your stupid cat tore up my new couch?!”
“No, not really!” Bucky slowly tore his eyes away from you, giving his angel of a cat all the attention he wanted. You could’ve sworn you heard a mutter escape his lips, something that sounded like, “good boy.”
“My couch was leather, Bucky.” Sam whined, “Leather.”
“Well, now it’s leather with design,” Bucky smirked, holding his half-eaten apple to his lips. “Alpine got style, what can I say?”
“…Alpine?” Your voice was still shaken up from the ongoing embarrassment in your head but you couldn’t help but question the name.
As if to add emphasis, the cat meowed in response as if he already knew his name. “That’s his name?”
“Yeah,” He shrugged, scratching the attention hog's chin. “That’s what I named him. Thought it was… unique. I didn’t want to pick some lowlife name, you know?”
“It’s an awful name,” Sam yelled with a smile. "Absolutely hideous."
Both Bucky and Alpine snapped their heads in unison towards Sam, giving him a glare that made you let out a few giggles. “No one asked you, Sam.”
“Well, Buck, I think Alpine is a fitting name.” You interrupted, letting the brunette turn to you once again. He took another bite out of his apple, while he listened to your words. Appreciation was clear in his eyes. “It reminds me of those pretty mountain glaciers.”
The pigeon rolled his eyes at you, as you watched him sit on his shredded couch. “Kiss ass.”
James ignored him and smiled at you. And it wasn’t a forced smile like he usually did either, it was a genuine one.
You’ve noticed for a while now how happier he’s been. Ever since he took in Alpine, his life seemed to go his way for once. No bad guys, no hydra, just… family. Friends. It made your heart swell up at the fact he was happy. He was finally happy, after struggling for so long.
However, the smile was short-lived once his brain made the connection that Sam was preoccupied. As his eyes hovered over yours, his eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Are you sure you didn’t want something? You know, before Icarus bugged me.”
“I’m sure, Buck.” You put on an awkward smile, “It truly wasn’t all that important.”
He pushed Alpine gently to the side as he gave you the “totally not convinced” stare. If it had been anything else on your mind, that look would’ve made you give in. But, to tell him that you called his name because you were dreaming of him? Hell no. It was way too damn embarrassing.
He gazed at you softly, his stone blue eyes immersed with unsureness. Little Alpine joined in as well, squeaking as he rubbed his tail on your arm.
“Promise?” Bucky muttered softly.
“Promise.”
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killuaisaprincess · 3 years
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Here’s my Ki if anyone wants to use him
Base: x
Code: 1RD5BKV
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alicee1 · 3 years
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One more
Platonic! Phil x Teenager! Winged! GN! Reader
Warnings: injuries, mentions of being hunted, preening
Word count: 2.6K
Synopsis: After living outside on your own for two years without any proper knowledge on survival you set up camp in a forest beside a tundra. Crows find you when you’re hiding away from mobs in a tree and alert Phil that there is an injured winged child abandoned in the forest. After meeting you he takes you back to his cabin to teach you how to properly care for your wings and nurse you back to health. He may have promised himself no more children, but what was one more?
A/n: This was mostly written in a sleep deprived 4 AM haze of creativity but i’ve proofread it in a more consious state of mind and all so it should be fine now. Despite that i still believe that sleep deprived nights where half of the words that get written down are incomprehensible are the best nights to write creativity wise. By the way, I told y’all i write for other people except Techno, this is the proof.
Rules, Masterlist
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The running water was cold but fresh against your skin, it gave you the opportunity to refill your water supply and the area allowed for a temporary camp.
You had been wandering the lands for a year or two now, but without any proper teaching on how to defend yourself and survive, you had to figure things out yourself.
It had been the hardest in the beginning, you struggled to provide food for yourself and without the knowledge on how to start a fire you were often too cold as well.
Since then things had gotten better, you survived mostly on berries, not being able to stay in one place long enough to start a proper farm and not skilled enough to hunt proper animals.
The reason why you hadn't settled down permanently was directly tied to your fear of people, you had been chased out of your home by hunters. Besides that, your stubborn nature insisted you would be fine on your own like you had been for the past two years.
Reality however differed despite your unwillingness to believe it.
The wings that sprouted from your back were coated in a layer of dirt, the feathers ruffled and out of place. Loose feathers still weaved through the others, some blocking the way for new feathers to appear creating a constant itching feeling between the feathers.
You had never been properly taught how to take care of your wings, two messy cuts in the back of your clothing spared barely enough space for them to sprout out. For over two years they had stayed unintentionally neglected, pressed against your back as you were unable to fly with them in their current state.
Besides that your diet of berries had left you starving, bones portruding from your skin as your unhealthy diet was unable to provide the nutrition you needed as a teenager.
Messy scars littered your body after countless of nights of close calls with various mobs. Lack of proper care for the wounds made them form into messy scars. Bruises and small cuts coated your skin although you had grown numb from the constant ache it resulted in.
The sun was setting now, forcing you to hurry as you cupped your hands in the small stream and splashed the cool water into your face.
It grew darker quickly in the forest as you looked around, trying to find some place, any place, high up where you could avoid the arrows of skeletons and the reach of zombies and other mobs.
A tall tree caught your eye as you hurried over. You climbed it expertly, many nights trees had been your safe haven to hide out in which had given you the necessary experience.  
Finding a strong and sturdy branch to sit on, you watched the night sky. Dark bat like creatures circled in the air as their glowing eyes scanned the surroundings.
It made you press yourself further to the stem of the tree, hoping to stay out of view of the creatures as you sat hidden behind the leaves.
Your eyes met the beady black eyes of what you thought was a raven, or maybe it was a crow, you couldn't tell them apart. It sat on the branch to your side, another similar bird by its side.
It watched you curiously, cocking it's head as a loud screech left it's beak. More of its kind seemed to approach at the noise, joining the first on the branch as they looked curiously at you.
If you weren't stuck in the tree to avoid the mobs that crawled on the ground, you would've ran from the black birds. They were starting to freak you out a little in the way they all silently watched your every move.
The loud twang of an arrow breaching wood could be heard as your eyes widened, temporarily forgetting the birds as you glanced down.
An arrow pierced the wood barely besides the branch you sat on, making you scramble up higher as you climbed to the thinner branches.
With your movement the crows flew off, loudly screeching as they reached the close by tundra, pecking against the window of the cabin loudly.
Phil's eyes narrowed as he watched the creatures gather in large quantities, they screeched towards one another, filling them in on what they had seen in the forest.
Some flew off to check out the sight for themselves, others asked questions loudly to the ones that had seen it for themselves. It was a flock of birds that continued growing and therefore continued growing wilder with the second.
"Quiet" Phil spoke, silencing the horde as he continued, "what is going on?"
Immediately the birds started squeaking over one another once more, forcing him to silence them again before picking out one of the calmer birds of the flock and asked them to explain.
"So there is a child in the forest?" He asked as the bird ruffled it's feathers, fluffing up in defiance as it squeaked, "an injured child."
"An injured winged child!" Another from the flock squawked up, a silencing gaze from Phil quickly shutting them up once more.
He looked at the one crow he that sat perched on his windowsill, "is this true?"
"Yes."
It has been decades since he had seen another person with wings. Often they were chased down and hunted for their wings, using the wings for artificial gliders. He wondered if that was why you were alone out in a forest at night.
"I'll finish this first, then I'll check it out." Phil looked to the brewing stand that stood perched upon his desk, different ingredients strewn around and a book with his findings laid on the side.
"Keep an eye on them in the meantime." He side eyed Chat as he closed his windows against the chilling tundra winds once more, returning to his desk to continue his brewing activities.
Minutes turned into hours as the man got caught up in his work,  brewing up enough potions to restock his chests as the morning rays of sun started to peek through the windows.
You had made it out of the night relatively alright, an arrow had found itself scratching your arm somewhere through the night. Although despite that you had stayed unseen by the phantoms that circled the night sky, which you considered a win.
Climbing down the tree once the ground had been cleared, you bid goodbye to the black birds that had stayed by your side throughout the night.
They however, followed your every step, making you grow more conscious of them as you sped up, hoping to shake them off subtly.
Their wings however proved more than capable to keep up with you, forcing you to break out in a sprint.
You had reached a small clearing, stopping in your tracks as a male stood in the middle of it. Crows similar to the ones that followed you crowded around him, some pulling at his green robe to pull him into a certain direction before getting swatted away by his hands.
His eyes found yours as you stepped back, instinctively retreating from the stranger cautiously.
The black wings that grew from his back put you at ease, knowing he was one of your kind. Despite that however he was still a stranger to you and you had never once met another winged person.
Your family hadn't been winged either, although they had kept you hidden from the world for the most of your childhood knowing the target your wings would make you.
When people had learned of your existence your house wasn't safe anymore and you had ran. On your travels you had heard of a place called L'manburg where hybrids of any kind were accepted amongst the normal people. It had been the reason you travelled in this direction in the first place.
He could easily see the fear in your eyes, as well as the mess of feathers that involuntarily fluffed up behind you. It only made the itching of the misplaced feathers worse, making you unconsciously swat at the limbs with your hand.
"Who are you?" Your voice was raspy, dark circles evident under your eyes as Phil seemed to realize the state you were in.
He offered you a small reassuring smile, cautious of his every movement so he wouldn't send you running. Lord knows you wouldn't be able to fly with the state your wings were currently in.
"I am Phil, it's been a long time since I've seen anyone with wings such as myself." He spoke, calmly spreading what was left of his black wings out behind him to show you what he meant.
Even to your untrained eyes it was obvious something had happened to his wings, although you didn't dare ask. The parts of his wings that had stayed untouched by the damage of the explosion however was well taken care off.
Carefully preened to a smooth and soft blanket of feathers that coated the muscled limbs.
They were everything your wings weren't, and immediately the idea of fixing your wings sparked a hope inside you. You hadn't flown often before but you had missed the feeling of the wind under them over the years.
You had known something was wrong with your wings but your lack of basic knowledge of the limbs hindered any proper care you could've given them.
"Are they yours?" You asked the older male, nodding to the birds that littered the small clearing of trees. His presence was comforting in a unfamiliar way, but it was nice nonetheless. It allowed him to take a careful step towards you as he turned to the small army of crows that had gathered around him.
"You could say that," he side glanced at the animals as their beady eyes watched the interaction carefully, "they showed me to you."
His words made your eyes narrow as you took a step back, "why were you looking for me?" The distrust in your voice was obvious as Phil tried to gain your trust once more.
"I wasn't looking for you specifically," one of the crows that had watched the ordeal from your side carefully hopped in front of you towards Phil, turning around to watch you as if asking you to follow them.
"they spoke of an injured winged child in the forest." Your hand found your upper arm where the skeletons arrow had pierced your skin unconsciously, the sting of the injury still present in the back of your head.
The male pulled a bottled red solution from his cloak, stepping closer to hand it to you as you allowed him.
Phil offered you a small smile, considering it a victory as he uncorked the bottle, swirling the deep red liquid inside for a moment before handing it to you, "it's a potion of health, it will help with your wounds."
"What do you want for it?" You asked questioningly as you held the bottle in your hands, looking at the older male now that he was closer to you.
A comforting smile formed on his features, "nothing mate, I'd hope to take you to the cabin where I and a closer friend of mine live. He's a hybrid as well, and I wish to help you."
Your eyes narrowed as you took a careful sip of the potion. The sweet flavorful taste was unlike anything you had tasted in years. A satisfied sigh left your lips involuntarily as the taste invaded your mouth and brought immediate relief to the ache you had forgotten existed and the pain from your recent arm injury.
It didn't take long for you to finish the potion, some of the color returning to your cheeks as Phil turned away from you, extending his hand in invitation to join him.
When you did he wrapped his sky blue cape around your shoulders, protecting you against the cold tundra as he guided you over the lands, back to his cabin.
The warmth of a fireplace hit your skin as you stepped inside the cabin, the comforting feeling of warmth had grown unfamiliar over the two years you had spent alone but was a welcome change.
Phil guided you to the couch, taking the cape from you before hanging it besides the door. He knew the health potion would be enough to help against the cut on your arm, what he was more concerned about were your wings.
"How long as it been since you preened them, kid?" The nickname rolled of his tongue without him noticing.
The clueless look you gave him should've said enough, yet you still chose to answer as you cocked your head, "what is preening?"
Instantly Phil realized what was the problem. You hadn't been unable to care for your wings, you just didn't know how to.
He sat down beside you, stretching out his right wing which had been relatively spared from the blasts of TnT. He showed the smooth feathers to you as you carefully traced your hand along it. He could barely feel your gentle touch as he explained what preening was.
He could see the light of curiosity in your eyes shine in your eyes as you had officially chosen to put your trust in him.
Moving to his small kitchen, he prepared a cup of hot chocolate milk. It would give you something to focus on if the preening felt uncomfortable, besides that, the warmth and nutrition would be good for you.
You carefully sipped the sweet liquid as Phil sat behind you, his touches feather light on your wings as he gently stretched them out to observe their state more appropriately.
A small shudder shut up your spine at the foreign contact, but it was a nice type of contact, something you could get used to.
His fingers started to rearrange the feathers, pulling the loose ones out and creating space for new ones to pop out. He found some childhood fluffy feathers amongst their larger and smoother counterparts. It made him question how long they had been there as he combed his fingers through the different layers of feathers, wondering if you had ever been properly preened before.
Where your back met your wings he could see the small fluffier childhood feathers that puffed up from underneath the slits in your shirt. They probably would never get replaced by the adult feathers and mark the transition between skin and feathers.
His touch was comforting, combined with the sweet liquid in the mug and the warmth that hung in the cabin, you closed your eyes in bliss as you settled into the soft couch. You sunk in between the mess of pillows, your eyelids softly dropping closed as you sipped the remainder of your drink from the mug.
Phil could see the way your body seemed to slack in the soft material of the couch, his hands continuing their work as he gently pulled the now empty cup from your hands and put it on the small table.
He knew that last night, especially in combination with Chat, must have been exhausting for you. You looked blissfully and comfortable in your sleep.
Phil only took a quick break from preening your feathers to drape a blanket over the rest of your form.
He had promised himself no more. After everything that had happened with Wilbur, Tommy and Techno he had promised himself that Tommy was his last.
But the way you laid so peaceful in your sleep on his couch, he knew he couldn't just send you away after nursing you back to health. It was obvious you had no one to return to and you were still a child. Whether teenager or not, a child is a child.
Maybe one more wouldn't be so bad?
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supimjustwriting · 3 years
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You Ruined Me
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Features: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, and Malleus Draconia
Author’s Note: I believe I had a bit too much fun with this. Honestly the idea I wrote for Malleus can become its own fic.
Riddle Rosehearts (Trey Clover) Genre: Comedy Warnings: Bullying, product placement
“My teeth are fine. I don’t need your help.”
It was supposed to be just another day at the Heartslabyul dorm, yet quiet whispers seemed to surround the couple.
“I heard that Riddle’s (S/O) doesn’t brush their teeth.” “Is that why they always have a closed lipped smile in photos?” “Ever since Trey mentioned it. I can’t help but notice how yellow their teeth are.”
Each word dug thorns into (Y/N) before they finally had to excuse themselves.“
Trey allow me to talk to you for a moment,” pulling the vice dorm leader aside. They mirrored their lover’s rosy cheeks while steam poured from their ears. “What have you done?”
“It’s just a passing comment. I’m sure things should blow over soon. Trends like this come and go all the time,” the clover haired male held his hands up in defense, a sheepish grin painting his lips.
“A trend? You call this a trend! I can’t even simply speak or eat without somebody. No. EVERYBODY, staring at my teeth!”
Before things could escalate further. A certain redhead entered the room, his eyes filled with worry and confusion like a child walking in on their parents arguing.
You and Trey reflexively apologize to each other, eyes glued to the ground. With the both of you explaining, each explaining their respective side. A new rule was born. At least [décor] reminders of the rule now made home to this rule flooded dorm.
The next morning a sign made their home upon the kitchen wall, followed by a picture of a smiling tooth. It was quite reminiscent of a children’s dentist office. The sign read” ALL STUDENTS ARE ENCOURAGED TO BRUSH THEIR TEETH AFTER EATING. THIS INCLUDES AFTER DRINKING TEA AS WELL AS OTHER FOOD ITEMS KNOWN TO STAIN TEETH.
Needless to say this was just another rule to be forgotten. At least they stopped talking about you and now call out each other.
[ Little did everyone know this was simply all planned by Trey to promote the new toothpaste he was working on.. It was a success. ]
Leona Kingscholar (Ruggie Bucchi) Genre: Drama/Angst Warnings: Stealing, invasion of privacy
“Anything else would’ve been fine but out of everything you had to pawn that?!”
You tore your room apart. Throat closing with each area of failure. Just where was your necklace? Taking a few deep breaths, you try to recall who could’ve visited your room. Crossing your arms over your chest, you create a mental list.
Jack stopped by to ask if you wanted to join him on his morning run, to which you grumbled softly. Still half asleep.
A while later Leona came, scooping you from your desk before holding you protectively against his chest. His body relaxing from the familiar warmth and scent your body gave. Though before you could fall asleep yourself. Ruggie popped in asking if he could have any spare notebooks laying around. Lazily gesturing to your desk, you close your eyes.
Ruggie.
“Where is it?” “I know you were half asleep but you agreed to letting me take those notebooks. You ain’t getting them back.” “Not those. You can take as many as you want but where is my necklace?”
The hyena’s face dropped as he chuckled nervously.
“Oh! That little ol’ thing? Out of your whole collection I thought you’d miss that one the least. So, I pawned it for some madol. Since it was yours to begin with, I’ll give you a cut of the profits. How does 75:25 sound to you? Sellers fees and all that,” he chirped, turning on his charming business mode.
Each word that left his lips caused your blood to boil ever hotter.
“So, you’re telling me. That you sold my only connection to home because it looked plain?”
Oh fu- He should’ve put sentimental value on the table as well. No wonder the pendant looked familiar to him. Hindsight truly is troublesome, isn’t it? With his ears pressed against his skull, a sheepish grin painted his lips.
“I could always buy it back?” “You will buy it back.”
Like a lion stalking their prey, you slowly made your way to the hyena only to be interrupted by a familiar groan.
“Oi, what’s with all the noise? Don’t you know that some people are trying to rest here?” A yawn erupted from Leona’s lips as he scratched the back of his head. “(Y/N)? From the look in your eyes. What did Ruggle do?” Nothing could hide the amused smirk forming upon his face.
After explaining the situation to Leona. You got your necklace back even quicker than promised. Needless to say a certain hyena was banned from your room indefinitely. Unless you decided otherwise. It’s your room. Leona won’t tell you what to do but he’ll throw in a suggestion here and there. Of course. Due to the talk Ruggie had with your boyfriend. He doesn’t even consider looking at your stuff the wrong way.
Malleus Draconia (Lilia Vanrouge) Genre: Horror, Angst Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, yandere themes
“Lilia, please don’t. We can talk this out! Can’t we? I don’t wanna be a fae. Please convince Malleus otherwise. I want to stay human. I want to stay me!”
You stared at the joyous fae before you. His maniacal smile never left his lips as he slowly approached your trembling form.
“Oh sweetheart. I would hate to be the bearer of bad news but this was your dearest’s idea. It broke his heart, you know?” Lilia’s voice dropped to an accusatory tone as he clicked his tongue at you. “I told him that loving a human comes with a heavy price. You can only truly give your heart to someone once. I will have you know. The other times will never be as pure as the first.”
Despite your sniffles and cowering form. He continued as if scolding a child.
“Humans have such short lives and so we talked it out. We agreed to tweak some things. Till death do us part is too tragic of a way to end a story, don’t you think? So, we decided to focus on the forever in the happily forever after. Romantic, isn’t it?”
Lilia closed the distance between the two of you. Before revealing a small vial with a pink sparkling liquid dancing within. Gingerly he held the glass to your lips, teasing you with your fate.
“And all it will take is just one gulp,” each word that followed, he tipped the glass ever so slightly. 
Malleus watched the scene unfold before him an unreadable expression painting his face.
“Lilia,” his voice shook the room, filling the empty space with an indescribable pressure.
You were saved! Surely your upper classmen had to be joking, right? This was simply just one of his pranks going too far and Malleus is here to stop the teasing. Yes! That has to be it. Yet why does the draconic fae stare at you with such fascination?
“I thought we agreed that I would give it to them.”
In a fit of laughter, Lilia let your trembling form free. His eyes glowing a deep magenta as delight slowly filled him. The sight of the young couple warming his cold heart.
“Look Malleus, they’re shaking with excitement! I guess we got too carried away there,” the short haired male let out a sigh. “If only we were a bit quicker, right (Y/N)? Then we could have surprised your darling dearest.”
A soft smile crossed Malleus’ lips. “(Y/N), you didn’t have to do that. Though I am touched by the thought,” your boyfriend walked over to you before kneeling before your doll-like stature. “Let this day become a commemoration for the future years to come. I truly do love you from the bottom of my heart (Y/N). Now please, tilt your head back for me love.”
What was once a comforting embrace, now resembled a cage. His cold skin against your own reminded you of a corpse. Yet there was a soft burn coming from beneath. Love? That’s a fool’s wishful thinking.
You felt your scalp being tugged softly, snapping you from your thoughts. Gingerly long slender fingers caressed your cheek as if to remind you everything will be alright. With the bitter liquid sliding down your throat. All you could do was curse the pair from the bottom of your heart. How dare they ruin you like this?
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cayofdreams · 3 years
Text
Establishing the Monocracy
~(Brat!Reader x Bakugou)~
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Words: 3.4k
Rating: 🌊 18+, Smut
Warnings/Tags: cunnilingus, teasing, slight degradation
Notes: I was writing this req and just got inspired cuz Bakugou. Ended up being somewhat a preface to my Down with the Monocracy (which ofc is not a req reading to enjoy this)
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“Ohhh~! Yeah baby, right there!! So good!!”
The obnoxious moaning of the actress through your phone’s speakers made Bakugou quickly turn around from his desk to glare bullets into you. You were sitting on his bed, looking nonchalantly at the events transpiring on the screen. 
The two of you were supposed to go out later to hangout with friends so you stopped by his place to kill time. Two hours of time. A normal occurrence for you considering you liked to annoy your friend-and-rival whenever you could, and admittedly his surprisingly cozy room was comfortable to just laze around in.  Usually you’d read manga while he did whatever but Mina had sent you a rather vulgar clip with the caption ‘how i hope my night ends 😝😝!!’.
“Oi! What the fuck are you looking at in my room?! Turn that shit off!” More than the fact that you were boldly watching porn in his vicinity, he was more perplexed at how you were still playing the video after he called you out. “Why the fuck are you watching that?!”
“I just don’t get it.” Scratching your head, you continued to look quizzingly at the actress’ performance. “I mean, people actually find this stuff arousing?”
“Are you just gonna ignore my question?!”
“Oh my goodness, calm down. Mina sent me a video. She’s acting like its the hottest thing ever but it isn’t entertaining at all.” You rolled your eyes before concentrating once more on your phone’s screen. 
Finding it useless to ask if it was normal for friends to send porn to each other he instead questioned just what you were looking at to elicit such a response from you.  
“What? You used to some kind of extravagant sex or some shit?”
“No. Rather what’s happening here is extravagant. Literally no one does this in real life. It’s so unrealistic.”
A million questions ran through Bakugou’s head at this moment. Why were you watching porn in his room? What the fuck kind of porn is so bizarre that a deviant like you is confused? And Jesus were to trying to start something right now? Was he literally in a shitty porn introduction and didn’t know it? 
“Fuck~!! Hyahhh!! I’m gonna cummm~~!!!”
The sounds of the video continued to penetrate through Bakugou’s room. Mentally he was annoyed at the fact that he just wanted to get ahead on some paperwork before going out and your idiocy was preventing that, but physically the boner that was rising in his pants was only more and more intrigued. The woman he’d been undressing with his eyes for longest of times was now in his room, laying on his bed, watching porn.
“I mean seriously, only an idiot could think guys do this.”
“What the hell crazy shit are you looking at??”
“That thing that’s in like every porn. Where the guy is like licking her down there. Cunnilingus, if you will.”
Bakugou raised his eyebrow at you. “You mean eating pussy?”
“Oh my god…you’re so vulgar.” Rolling your eyes, you turned on your side, back faced towards Bakugou.
“You’re the fucking one in my room watching-“ As he glanced at your figure, he wondered just what the fuck you were getting at. Were you weirdly trying to seduce him? By playing porn and then pretending as if you were inexperienced in oral sex just for his sexual interest in you to pique? Were you trying to sexually outsmart him? Bakugou chuckled as he got up and walked towards you. “You think you’re so fucking sneaky, huh?”
You felt the increasing weight on the bed as Bakugou pressed his knee into the mattress to close his torso in on you. “What?” Quirking your eyebrow and turning towards him, you pondered his sudden shift in demeanor.
“Don’t fucking play dumb. I know what you’re doing.” Bakugou gripped his fingers around the collar of your shirt, forcing you to directly face him. “Since you pissed me off, I’m not doing shit with you even if you asked nicely.” He let go of you to walk back toward his desk, slumping himself in the chair. “Pretending like guys aren’t lining up to worship your pussy with their tongue just to get me to pity you. Pathetic.”
You paused as you analyzed his mood. Clearly he was upset at you, but you didn’t have the slightest idea why. “I agree that I should be worshipped but I don’t quite understand what you’re talking about.”
Bakugou clicked his tongue and shot a glare at you. “There’s no fucking way you’re gonna sit here and tell me some loser hasn’t been down on you. Didn’t you just get out of a relationship?”
“Mmm…yeah.”
“And you fucked, yeah?”
“We had sexual relations, yes.”
“And he never went down on you?”
“No. He said it wasn’t necessary.”
“W-What?”
“Well, he said since I’m quote-on-quote, horny all the time, it wasn’t necessary.”
Bakugou knew you were a trickster of sorts, but the way you just nonchalantly talked about your bitch of a boyfriend like it was normal told him you weren’t lying. Did someone like you, the prissiest, most self-absorbed chick in the universe really date someone who wouldn’t go down on you. Fuck, did you miss out.
Or rather, the bastard missed out.
Some snobbish prick didn’t hop on the chance to make you squirm under them? The one chance they’d probably have in asserting their rightful dominance over you, and they were too fucking stupid to not take it? It’d be a lie to say that when Bakugou saw those soft plushy thighs of yours peeking out from under your tight skirts he didn’t fantasize about the dripping mess he could create underneath.
Hell, you practically put your pussy on display whenever you wore those so-called ‘athletic’ shorts that helped you move faster as you’d claim. Bullshit. As if you weren’t tempting every loser in your vicinity with those faint imprints of your pussy lips through those shorts. Fuck, if he had known the whole time you were dating that piece of shit that he wasn’t going down on you, he would’ve fucking shown you what you were missing out on.
Well he wasn’t going to make the same shitty mistake as your boyfriend.
With a small curl of his lips, he cocked an eyebrow towards you. “You wanna find out what you missed out on?”
“Huh?”
“What your shitty ex was too stupid to not do, you want me to do it?”
After taking a moment to process Bakugou’s advances, you erupted into laughter. “No way!”
“Why the fuck are you laughing?!” Here he was, practically stripping his ego away for you, and you were just going to laugh in his face? Refusing his incredibly generous offer? Nevermind the sadistic value he’d receive from having you completely fall apart under him, it was still you who’d reap most the benefits. 
You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, trying to stifle your snickers. “Okay, and I suppose you’re going to make me scream obnoxiously like the girl in that video, are you?” You face turned from amused to stern. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve already had sex and its nothing like what’s portrayed in that silly pornography. I’m sure it’s the same for- what do you call it? ‘Going down’? So, don’t even waste my time, Bakugou.”
Bakugou chuckled at your ignorance. Not only had you not had the pleasure of your pussy being smothered by some bastard’s tongue, but he wasn’t even fucking you properly? You poor thing. Honestly, he was a little offended you were only just now relaying this information onto him.
While you were trying to go back to whatever random things you were doing on your phone before Mina interrupted you, Bakugou strode back over to his bed, this time climbing on top of it, maneuvering your thighs so that he’d be seated between them.
“Oh no, did I awaken the challenger part of you? I’ve said what I said now get off.” You tried to kick you foot at him but he caught your ankle in his grip.
“Going against your weak excuse of a boyfriend is hardly a challenge, princess.”
“Oh ho-ho, so getting me to actually feel pleasure from what-ever you’re about to do is the challenge?”
“That’s not a challenge either.”
Sucking your teeth, you hastily took off your skirt and spread your thighs for him. “Fine. You have one chance, Ba-KA-gou.”
“Tch. Just do me favor and-“ Bakugou placed your hands around your knees and further spread your thighs apart. “keep ‘em fuckin’ spread.”
Rolling your eyes, you silently complied. You weren’t shy in the least about your body but the way Bakugou was intently zeroing in on the clothed folds of your pussy made your breath a bit shaky. 
Just when you were about to say something about his odd silence you felt the soft peck of his lips on your thigh. That peck was slowly followed by another, this time slightly closer to your center. As you tried to ease your breathing each peck made you more wet than the previous. By the time Bakugou was at the lining of your panties, you were practically pooling through the fabric. Smirking at your trembling he looked up at you.
“Shy?”
“N-No! You’re just incredibly slow. I bet you’re just h-hesitating because you don’t know how to- Owwch!” Bakugou had sunk his teeth into the softness of your thighs. Not enough to break skin, but enough to make you kick your heel into his back in retaliation. “What was that for?! You brute!”
“You’re getting on me about going slow but you’ve been the one wasting everyone’s time, Y/N.” He stroked the tip of his index finger along the slit of your panties, making more of your juices spill through the fabric. “Dating some shitty asshole when you could’ve been wetting this glorious cock the whole time.” He circled his finger around the clothed hood of your clit, reveling in the broken whimpers you couldn’t help but let out. “So now I’m gonna take allll the fucking time I want. So just lay there and try to make this a challenge for me.”
Bakugou then wrapped his lips around your pussy, soaking his saliva through your panties. He wasn’t even directly touching you but the rampant motions of his hot tongue through the now drenched cloth made your hips squirm underneath him. He went back and forth from licking to sucking you over your panties, pausing when you quivered too much or moaned too loud. He didn’t want to accidentally make you cum before his main act.
Unconsciously, you had let go of your knees to glide your fingers through his spikey locks, slightly pulling him forward as if he’d be able to ghost his tongue through your panties. He looked back up at you, pleased with your erotically joyous face.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands there? You’re distracting me.”
Letting out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a whine, you re-placed your hands around your knees.
“So surprisingly obedient.” Bakugou slipped his finger around the crotch of your panties, gliding his knuckle around your swelled clit. “Probably because you’re just desperate to have your pussy played with. What a slut.” He increased the pressure of his knuckle around your clit and the feeling of it made you lean your head back against Bakugou’s pillows. “How about you tell me what you want, princess?”
Regulating your breathing enough to form a sentence you rose your head again to meet his vermillion eyes. “G-Go down on me. Prick.”
“Go? Huh? Where? In a car? Fucking clarify.”
You clicked your tongue and turned your head, annoyed at his feigning. Seeing as how you’d require a little encouragement, Bakugou pressed a kiss against clothed pussy, rubbing the tip of his nose where your clit would lie directly underneath. “C’mon. You’re college educated, right? Use your fucking vocabulary.”
You slowly turned your head towards him, the twitching agitation of your eyebrows only fueling him more. “Will you perform cunnil-“
“Finish that sentence and I’m leaving.”
Not wanting to test him on that threat, you reluctantly parted your lips. “…Eat my…” Bakugou licked stripe along your completely soaked panties, stopping to wiggle the tip his tongue against where your clit would be. “Mmnnn~…my pussy...”
“What? Can you fucking speak up? You can present shit in front of a whole audience but now you’re being as quiet as a damn mouse.”
“F-fuck…Bakugou. Damn you.” Your eyes became watery at the mix of humiliation and pressing desire to be touched directly. Were you really going to soil your ego for this bag of cockiness? Surely it wasn’t worth it. Is what your mind would probably say. But right now, your pussy wore the crown. And the queen was craving attention. “I want you to- to e-eat my pussy.”
Bakugou placed another bite on your inner thigh making your body jolt. “Can’t even add a damn ‘please’ to that? I’m sure your type was taught manners.”
“Pleeaassee~ Fuck! Please eat my pussy, Bakugou!”
A small burst of laughter left him as he slapped your thigh. “Well take ‘em off, princess.”
Begrudgingly taking off your panties, a shiny string of your wetness that connected you with the fabric broke as you threw them on the floor. Reassuming the previous positioning of your thighs, your now bare pussy was left open and vulnerable to your rival.
He leaned down to hover over your pussy, his nose trickling against the hood of your clit. You were already so wet for him. Your pussy was just glistening with juices that begged for tending to. Steadying his position between your thighs he glanced at you one more time. “You better not move.” He then licked a stripe up your folds, stimulating your clit in the process.
“Hyaah~!” The feeling was too much for your somewhat-inexperienced pussy and caused you to involuntarily push Bakugou back with your feet. The annoyance of being stopped was promptly displaced with satisfaction as he peered at your pitiful form.
“What did I just fuckin’ say? Open your legs again.” His voice that was rasp with frustration didn’t match his look of sadistic gratification. You were giving him just the reaction he wanted. Did you really think your meek little pussy was any match for him? He had barely touched you and this is how you’re acting? And the fact you were still hesitating on presenting that little pussy to him again only drove him more eager to ravish you. 
“Dammit, Y/N. Do I have to do every fucking thing?” Bakugou pulled you up by the waist so that you were in a piledriver-like position, with your back arched and ass raised in the air, and of course your pussy now directly presented up towards him. The crook of your neck was nothing compared to his tight grip around your hips, the squish of your flesh plunging from between his fingers. You couldn’t even use your legs to fight against him as his grip was too secure. “All I’m doing for you, and you can’t even follow simple fucking directions.
“’C-Cuz it felt too-Hmmnngh~!” You were cut off by the ravaging of Bakugou’s tongue over your pussy folds. He went back and forth from slurping up your juices to flicking his tongue over and over on your clit. If you weren’t already embarrassed by the position you were in, the absolute filthy sounds Bakugou was making with his mouth were achieving that. “Hnnggh~Baku…Bakugou!” You tried flailing your legs around in the air but Bakugou quickly grasped them in his hands. 
He ran his nails down the silky surface of your thighs, making for a sweetly masochistic pleasure mixed with his obscene lapping at your pussy. Continuing his gorging on your sweet pussy, he could feel you shaking from below him. He looked down below at your face, chucking into your pussy at how wretchedly delirious you looked.
“Gonna cum?” You vehemently shook your head no despite the swelling you felt within your pelvis. He slithered his hands down to glide them up your shirt, lifting up your bra above your soft breasts. “Well I’m not fucking stopping until you do. So give me something to play with until then.”
Bakugou roughly kneaded at your breasts between his fingers, squeezing them to hear your pitchy whines at the pain. The mix of his saliva and your slippery essence drooled from your pussy to pool at your tummy and breasts. He gathered a bit of the mixture and slicked his fingers in circles on your nipples. The erotic feeling of it sent a surge of pleasure straight to your pussy. “Ahahnn~ Bakugou…I-I’m gonna cumm~”
He locked eyes with you, continuing to slick his tongue around your clit. “From what?” Boosting your urgency to reply, he pinched a little harder at your nipples. “Tell me what you’re gonna cum from, princess.”
“F-From you eating my pussy~! From Katsuki eating my pussy~!!” The sounds of hearing you use his name for the first time made him pink in the cheeks and twitch in his boxers. Bakugou came up from between your hips, enticed to make you say more lewd things. You were rarely one to speak vulgarly so he’d make the best of your blissed-out state.
“Ahaha-! You sound like those silly pornos!” Not thinking your face could feel even more hot, you felt your cheeks rise with even more heat at his teasing. Bakugou took one of the hands from your breasts and palmed it against your slippery folds. “You still think every guy is like your stupid fucking ex, Y/N?” He ran his palm back and forth against your slit to keep you right on the edge of an orgasm.
“Noo~! Katsuki is so m-much better! Katsuki is sooo much better than my stupid ex~!”
He chuckled at your admittance, but of course, he couldn’t leave it there. “I’m kinda the fuckin’ best, aren’t I?”
“Hmmnn~! Yesss! ~the best! K-Katsuki is the bessst~!”
“You wanna cum on my tongue?”
“Please! Please let me-! Please let me cum on your tongue, Katsuki~!”
“You better fuckin’ listen to me and stay still, then. And don’t look away from me.”
Bakugou threw you back on the bed before lying on his stomach to place himself once more at your quivering pussy. Making sure your eyes were locked with his, he enveloped your folds within his mouth, sucking directly on your clit. He not only feasted on your pussy, but on the entranced look in your eyes. Your e/c eyes that looked at him like he was the only one that could gratify your carnal desires.
And from now on, he’d be sure he was the only one.
You gripped your fingers at the bed sheets beneath you as your orgasm rapidly creeped up on you. The intensity of Bakugou’s tongue coupled with his eye contact was sending you over the edge more fiercely than any pathetic ex or cheap sex toy ever could. “Ohhhmygodd~ Fuckkk-! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m-“
Forced to break eye contact with the unconscious jerk of your head back on the pillows, your pussy convulsed violently around Bakugou’s tongue. “Katsukiii~!” If you had to say, this was the most powerful orgasm you’d ever experienced. All at the hands- or tongue rather- of Bakugou Katsuki. Your ego would surely be disappointed in you choosing your pussy over it.
Bakugou slowly licked his tongue up and down your folds as you came down from your high. The corners of his lips lifted into a devious smile at your disheveled appearance. When your body finally stopped trembling, he completely separated his mouth from you and slid his body on top of yours to be face-to-face with you.
Silently, without care of you still gasping for air, he pressed his lips against yours, eventually intensifying the kiss with the slip of his tongue between your lips. Happily obliging, you glided your tongue against his as your fingers slithered up to once again fumble with his locks of hair. The taste of you on his tongue almost seemed sensual as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
Sliding his hand up to gently grip at your jaw, he separated his lips from yours, licking away the chain of saliva that still connected the two of you. As he sat upright to take his shirt off, he looked down at you, embellished with yearning to relieve his own build-up.
“Should I prove you wrong on fucking too before we hang out with those losers?”
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Text
Darling (Diana Prince x Reader)
Summary: Day Two - First Kiss
Words: 1037
Warnings: None other than a kind of douchy dude and a few cuss words.
A/N: So I’m like genuinely trying to play catch up because my old version of Word screwed up some of the files I had saved for these prompts and I’m still kinda irked but also not because someone helped me get a better copy and I really adore her for that so yeah. I know I’m behind.
Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345​ @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27​ @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr​ @marvels-writings​  (I feel like I’m missing people in my taglist and if I am, let me know! I try to keep track of everyone but I’m not perfect lol), @captain-josslett​
-X-
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Nervous hands wrung together as you wandered the halls of the museum. It’d been so nice of Diana to invite you – and buy your ticket – to the latest show she’d helped scrape together but you couldn’t help feeling terribly overwhelmed and completely underdressed as you studied the suited men sipping champagne and their dazzling partners.
Even if you had someone you could’ve brought, you probably both would’ve stood out like sore thumbs.
You sighed softly, accepting a flute as a man with a tray brushed past you. You had hoped to see Diana for more than a few passing moments yet clearly the world was not on your side. She had waved and smiled when you’d caught her eye but that was all. Nothing more.
It was stupid having a crush on her, anyways. Being Barry’s adopted sibling, you were well aware of who she was – who they all were – but that hadn’t deterred your feelings for Diana. You blamed the allure of her heroism and the fact she was a literal goddess even though you knew there was more to it than just her status. It was who she was as a person that dragged you in. Her sweet demeanor despite everything she’d been through, the way she hugged you whenever Barry could bring you to one of their meetings…
Diana was more than just a goddess. She was perfect.
Taking a drink from the flute, your eyes traveled along the expanse of art before you. Bold colors popping out and bright, it was an attractive piece, you must admit.
“Ah, good eye,” a deep voice broke your thoughts, bringing your attention away from the work you lingered on. “Composition X. A lovely slap of colors if I do say so myself.”
Glancing at your sudden companion, you smiled faintly at the newcomer. “You seem to know a bit about it?”
“It was created by Wassily Kandinsky. We had to study it in my art courses at Cambridge,” the man explained with a tilt of his head. “I was quite surprised when it was announced it was coming here. Miss Prince must be spectacular at her job.”
“She’s definitely something,” you murmured, attention falling back upon the art.
You could practically feel the man’s pause. “You know her?” The incredulous inflection nearly made you flinch. Like it was so unbelievable you could know Diana.
Nodding thoughtfully, you hummed. “She’s a friend of my brother’s. She actually got me my ticket for tonight.”
“Impressive. I had heard Miss Prince was known to be charitable.”
The slight dig forced a dry swallow. It was obvious he thought you didn’t belong here either. In the best outfit you could afford, the world still saw you as out of place.
“Well, I am to assume you’ll be taking advantage of the free food provided for the opening tonight then? It’s probably nicer food than you’ll ever be accustomed to,” he inquired, his casual tone not enough to offset such a question.
Gritting your teeth, you drank a healthy swallow of champagne. “Actually –”
“There you are,” Diana cut you off suddenly, her scent enveloping you as she pressed her chest against your back. You hadn’t noticed her approaching but neither did the unwelcome conversationalist. A tiny part of you wondered if she used some of that goddess power to appear so quickly but you didn’t linger on that thought for long. “It took far too long to escape Mister Klarek, darling. I do apologize.”
Darling?
“Darling?” the man sputtered, gaze flickering between you and the woman glaring at him.
“Apologies for interrupting your chat with (Y/N), Mister White, but I have been missing my girlfriend terribly since I was dragged away,” Diana replied, an undercurrent of steel tightening her words as she completely ignored his unspoken question.
It took everything within not to react, choosing to accept her warmth and school your features. You’d never complain about being linked with Diana, even if you didn’t understand why she was claiming you in such a manner. Maybe it was her way of politely telling him to fuck off.
“N-no worries. I don’t blame you for missing such charming company,” he coughed, scratching the short hair he surely called a ‘distinguishable’ beard. “I shall not feel so bad leaving this lovely woman when she’s in good hands.” With a tight smile, he spun on his heel and stalked off.
Your eyes never strayed from his form until he disappeared into the crowd, enjoying Diana’s presence. You could hear soft muttering but the words sounded alien so you simply ignored them.
“How miserable. Are you alright?” Diana finally murmured into your ear, breath hot against the shell.
“Y-yeah,” you whispered, fighting the urge to let your eyes close. “He was an…”
“Ass,” Diana finished, clicking her tongue in displeasure. “I should speak with his boss before he leaves tonight. Let him know the type of man he has hired.”
Slowly twisting out of her embrace, you smiled bashfully at Diana. “Thank you for doing that.” Your brows furrowed worriedly. “I just hope he doesn’t spread that rumor. I’d hate for you to get stuck with that.”
Diana laughed sweetly, snagging the flute in your hand and taking a drink. “I am not worried, (Y/N). It would be an honor to be tied in such a way with you.”
Giggling in disbelief, you shook your head. “I’m pretty sure I’d have to be the honored one in that situation, Diana. I mean, you’re a goddess!” You could see color blooming faintly in her cheeks and a swell of confidence urged you to step forward. “But if it’s such an honor, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to taking you to dinner.”
Tension thick with anticipation, your eyes flickered to Diana’s lips for a second too long, watching the tip of her tongue wet them. A flash of movement and the sudden impact of a mouth against yours startled you, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe this moment was predetermined, simply waiting for the stars to align just perfectly.
Diana inched back slightly, breath fanning across your face. “I would like that very much, darling.”
Oh. You were going to enjoy that word. A lot.
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thefanficmonster · 3 years
Text
Tell Me It’s Not Too Late
(Sequel to Switchblade)
Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)
Warnings: Heartbreak, Swearing
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Summary: When is it considered ‘too late’ when it comes to expressing feelings? Is there even a time limit? Is the chance only momentary - is it a second that passes you by with no possibility of returning? All Corpse can do is hope that’s not the case. Cause if it is.....he’d rather not think about that.
Requested - sort of, but not in a typical way. Thank you to all the readers of ‘Switchblade’ that wanted to see the story have an ending that’d lead to a new start. Here it is, guys! Hope it lives up to what you expected. Love you all to the moon and back. 💖💖💖
I end my stream after almost three hours of constant scares. I sigh, slipping the headset off my ears so it’s hanging around my neck. I don’t feel that fulfilling feeling that I’m always met with upon ending a stream. I look at the countless scratches and little holes on the surface of my desk - evidence of the fear and frustration I experience while playing certain games. Not all of them are caused by that, however - Coming home after possibly the most humiliating night of my life, that desk and a few other pieces of furniture suffered my wrath and are now decorated with stab wounds that were a result of uncontrollable rage, hurt, self-hatred and self-pity. It took me a while to put an end to my hazardous, switchblade wielding rampage throughout my house, but the tears didn’t stop until the early morning hours.
I didn’t care that my feelings weren’t reciprocated. That was and is the least of my troubles. The most amount of hurt comes from the fact that I ruined something wonderful for myself. Corpse is the only person I’ve felt this close to all my life and now, due to my own poor decision making, I no longer have him. He no longer wants to be a part of the shit-show that is my life. Especially not now that he knows how messy things get when I show my forever-hidden feelings. I can’t blame him. I know I’d be running for the hills if I were him. He deserves a person who knows what’s going on in their life. Who has themselves and their surroundings figured out. Not someone who has an irregular streaming schedule and catches feelings for her best friend, ruining the friendship altogether in the process.
As I stand up from my chair, accidentally hitting the handle of the switchblade on the edge of my desk. I look down at it and how tightly I’m holding it. I seem to not be able to let go of it. Almost like I see it as my last bit of link to Corpse. The remnants of the connection I felt between us.
Maybe I should return it.
No, that’d be weird. I’d either have to go over there and give it back or send it via mail which is worse. It just feels like a harsh gesture - mailing something so meaningful as though it’s as worthless as the bills people get in the mail. I can’t send it through others, I don’t want anyone else getting involved. The more people know, the more real it is.
I’m aware I’m being both overdramatic and irrational, but you have to understand how much pain I’m in. I can’t guarantee the pain will go away or even lessen if I let this switchblade go, but it’s the only thing I haven’t tried.
Only problem is - I can’t let it go. I can’t find it in me to destroy it or throw it away. A part of me is willing to take the suffering of keeping it just cause it wants to hold on to that little connection it resembles. It’s evidence it existed to begin with. I believe it’s worth the pain. The hurt will go away eventually, but the memories are forever. I’ll look back at the time I had an amazing person such as Corpse to call ‘best friend’ and I’ll have something to prove to myself that it wasn’t a fever dream.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.“ I mumble as I finally uncurl my fingers from around the damn thing and put in down on my desk.
I take the headset off and proceed to head out onto the balcony to light what I call a ‘stress cigarette’. I’m not a regular smoker, but when everything just caves, I prefer to resort to a quick puff rather than grabbing a drink. I can say no to a second cigarette but not to a second drink. That second will then turn into a third and so on. And I don’t trust myself when drunk. I don’t personally know, but I’ve been told I’m rather unpredictable.
For the first few seconds while I’m standing there I don’t notice the pouring rain by some strange miracle. I can only focus on the chill of the breeze and the fresh breath that’s finally entering my lungs. I take a moment to breathe in the cool air before I start mixing it with the cigarette smoke. 
With my eyes closed, I hear more than I feel the rain on me. Storm noises always distract me from the actual storm, they calm me down. However, the sudden loud thunder causes me to open my eyes in a matter of milliseconds. I frown, slightly upset that I didn’t catch glimpse of the lightning that the thunder probably followed.
I’m not upset for too long, though. A lightning flashes right opposite me, creating the most mesmerizing of pattern you can see in the night sky during a storm. It’s so bright, it allows me to see my whole, usually unlit garden perfectly in that second or two it graces the sky. 
Wait
My balcony has a clear view of my entire front yard and all it takes a glance to the left to be able to see the front doorstep. 
Don’t freak yourself out, it’s just a trick of the light
I stay quiet and as still as a statue as I await another flash of lightning, my heart speeding past the point of a healthy pulse and into the realm of a near heart attack. The storm seems to be on my side because maybe a minute later another lightning bolt cuts through the black of the night. 
Sure enough, there’s a person standing outside my front door.
Fuck, what do I do?!
The person doesn’t appear to be moving. They are standing just as still as I am, facing towards the house.
I thank the universe the lights inside the house are off. I turned them off cause I wanted the ultimate scary experience playing that game. The only light is the faint glow of my computer screen which is, thankfully, barely visible. I slowly start backing up towards the sliding glass door, never taking my eyes off the figure that I can just barely make out now that my surroundings have fallen into darkness again. If it weren’t for the lightning I would’ve never been able to see them.
I manage to get back inside, soaked as though I just got out of a pool, without making a single sound. Just to be safe, I shut my monitor off. I grab my phone to use as a flashlight in one hand and the switchblade just finds its way into the other, my fingers curling around it tightly, more on instinct than to use as a weapon. I know I probably won’t be able to stab whoever’s out there.
I tiptoe my way down the stairs where all the lights are also off. I flick the blade out as I hesitantly and shakily make my way to the door to look through the peephole. I let out an unsteady exhale as I look at the the figure who is now standing further away and seems to have one arm in the air, curled at the elbow.
Just as I’m about to pull away from the door to dial 911 another flash of lightning illuminates the yard, the figure along with it. 
Can we go back to it being an intruder?
It’s no intruder, surprisingly - to my dismay. 
I turn my phone’s flash off and reach for the switch next to the door, flicking the light on before opening the door and walking out. 
“I NEARLY STABBED YOU WITH YOUR OWN BLADE!“ I yell in a desperate attempt to be heard over the waterfall of rain.
I can finally see him properly thanks to the light in my hallway. He looks like he hasn’t slept in years. He has his hood up but his black locks are sticking out in every direction from under the soaked material, not being protected from the droplets whatsoever. I read the shock in his eyes, almost like he didn’t know I lived there. He doesn’t make an attempt to approach or walk away from me so we just stand there, in the rain, staring at each other as though it’s the first time we’ve seen one another.
I snap out of the trance he has put me in, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the situation as I step towards him, grabbing onto his wrist, “Come on, we look like drowned rats.” I don’t give him time to react as I drag him inside, closing the door once we enter. “OK, from the top now: Why were you embracing your inner serial killer on my front porch?” I keep blabbering, diverting my gaze to anything but him. “Fucking hell, I could’ve stabbed you! You could’ve gotten really badly hurt! I -...”
“You know, I wish you stabbed me.“ He finally puts an end to my sorry excuse for frustration, I’m aware I look and sound miserable. His voice drags my eyes straight to his, fixing them there. “I know you can’t kill a cockroach on your own, and I know you most definitely wouldn’t even scratch a person, but I wish you had hurt me. Inflict fifty stab wounds on me and you still won’t hurt me as much as I hurt you.“ His hand swiftly pushes the hood off his head, grabbing onto his drenched locks as an expression of pain paints itself on his face. He’s the one diverting his gaze now, “I know what you mistook my silence for and I want you to get that out of your head.“
I wince at the pang in my chest, barely restraining my hand from flying up to rest over my heart, “Don’t humor me, Corpse! I’m not a child and this is not a game!”
“I’m not humoring you. I’m telling you...“ he makes a step towards me, grabbing hold of my ice cold hands, “I’m telling you I’m an asshole that freezes up when it’s least acceptable. I’m telling you I’m the worst at expressing how I feel. I’m telling you I can’t open foil. But you already knew all that. And you still liked me.“ He breaths in, refilling his lungs before continuing his rant, “I know you can be very chaotic. A real handful. A fucking tornado. But I love you. I love you as every natural disaster you represent. And if you could humor me...“ One of his hands releases mine, coming up to push a strand of hair away from my face, resting his hand on my cheek. “...by giving me one more chance. You always let me try multiple times when I stumble over what I’m trying to say. Can you do that, for me? For us?“
I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes. “If I say yes will you stop showing up like that on my doorstep?“ Of course, my primal instinct is to act tough and cool when my heart rate is once again going at the speed from back at the balcony. The skin of face and neck is red and burning hot. My eyes are rimmed with tears, I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Yeah. I’ll start coming in through the chimney instead.“ He visibly relaxes, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. He lifts the hand that’s still holding the switchblade, prying it out of my grasp. “No sharp objects, please.”
He drops it in the pocket of his hoodie, finally leaning down to erase any last bit of doubt I have left. This kiss teaches me a lot of things.
Love isn’t linear - nothing about it is linear. Not falling in nor falling out of it. Feelings aren’t digital or binary - it’s not always as black and white as we might want to believe. Feelings don’t just come and go. They are always present, but it depends on us weather they’re suppressed or expressed. We fear the latter cause we fear vulnerability and change. But we also crave the positive outcome we have a 50% chance of getting. It’s a fifty-fifty game, but here’s the thing: if you never express your feelings it’s a zero-a hundred chance that you won’t receive the outcome you’d like.
I took the fifty over the zero chance and regretted it for a day or two. It gave me closure if nothing more. It let me stand under the spotlight and carry my pride on my shoulders despite the tears in my eyes.
My feelings being reciprocated is just another benefit. But no longer being able to call Corpse ‘best friend’ cause he’s now got a bigger and better title is the positive outcome I have been dreaming of. 
He makes it all worth it. He is worth all of it. 
And if I had to go through all that again, you can bet your ass I would.
@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis
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diavolosthots · 3 years
Note
Hi there! I love your writing so much, your angst is one of my favorites to read because they always hit me in the feels. Can I request a hc or imagine (I can’t remember what they’re called) about Diavolo x Satan where Satan feels insecure because he thinks that Diavolo is with him as he was once a part of Lucifer, who doesn’t hold romantic love for Diavolo. You can add some smut if you want, I’m perfectly okay with the angst either way 😁!
I wrote this and posted it on AO3 first but here it is. Hope you like it anyway!
Warning: like 1 dust crump of slight NSFW if you look hard enough
Love's Poem (SATAN X DIAVOLO)
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Love is such an unpredictable thing.It comes so unexpectedly and knocks you over, or it will come gently and embrace you in its arms. Love is also odd. You may feel it strongly, almost too overwhelming, you will find peace in it, almost as if a blanket is draped over your shoulders. Love may come in full force, or it will come agonizingly slow. In Satan’s case, love could’ve been anything, but it was always there, he noted. Despite his exterior and the picture people painted of him, he always wanted to feel it, to experience it, to have it… and only in his books did he ever find it. It’s almost sad, really, pathetic. Or at least, Satan thinks so. A millennia old being holding on to such a childish dream, and yet… he can’t seem to let go of it. He has hope for it and he longs for it, but he isn’t foolish. He won’t blindly reach out for it. “Patience is a virtue.” he says, even if he finds it hard to be patient for a lot of things. He craves to be in love so desperately, laying there day and night with his nose buried in a book that tells of things he has yet to experience. A poem. A poem is what he yearns to create with someone else; a poem of their lives together. 
In all his yearning and waiting and desperation, though, he failed to realize that the poem had long started to be written. He failed to realize its soft touches, its gentle glances, and its sweet words calling out to him. He was so preoccupied with the paper it was supposed to be written on that he failed to notice the ink creating words on it. When he finally did notice, though, it was neither calm nor overwhelming. It was there, and Satan felt as if it had always been, because it had been. Still, when he realized whom he held it for, he was taken aback. Diavolo was never someone he excessively thought about… or so he thought. Diavolo, too, took a while to see Satan in such a new light and only when the two of them shared a moment over some literature did the Demon Lord realize just how deeply he could feel for the fourth born.
But Satan was unsure. He was questioning the demon’s motives, and quite honestly, he was scared. Scared of giving his all only to be left in the dust. To him, as much confidence as he bears and he truly does, coming from the Avatar of Pride himself and all, to himself, Satan was no one special. He’s attractive, very much so, and of course highly intelligent, but he also realizes how much of a brat he can be, or a bore, depending on the day. Diavolo was a manchild with insecurities, and Satan had said that more than once. Yet, their relationship blossomed and Satan found himself quite attached to the man, and vice versa. Diavolo felt like he had someone to confide in, someone who gave it to him straight but also comforted him. Someone he could experience things with and have a calm, peaceful evening with every night. Satan appreciated being brought out of his room, in which he would otherwise have been holed up in, and although he wasn’t after Diavolo for the money, status, or fame, he also appreciated the extravagance that his life brought to him. They balanced each other out, in the most unlikely ways, and both of them knew it.
Still, on one some days, Satan felt more like a shadow than anything. “Lucifer will come by today” again. “You won’t believe what Lucifer told me earlier” yes he will. “Lucifer” this “Lucifer” that. He understands that the two of them are close, after all Diavolo considers the first born his best friend. It angered Satan, though. Was he not enough? Does Diavolo still have to bring up Lucifer when he knows how the former feels about him? It’s not for a lack of communication, either. Satan has voiced his distaste quite a lot and changed the subject on more than one occasion, but a part of him also feels terrible for wanting to keep the Prince’s best friend away. “Satan!” especially when the guy so happily calls his name. “Hm?” It was nice outside, although when is it not in the Devildom. It rarely ever rains or snows or storms, and the temperature is always perfect to the demons. Satan was sitting under one of the trees in the courtyard at the House of Lamentation, reading one of his many books although he had a feeling that won’t last long. “Hm? That’s all I’m getting?” The pout that graced the Prince’s lips made Satan smile and a soft blush tint his cheeks. He looks up at the man, pursing his lips up into a kiss and waiting for Diavolo to take it. This is what he means when he says he wants a romance like in the books he reads. 
Diavolo leaned down to give one to him happily before falling into the grass. Somewhere behind them, they could hear Barbatos gasp, probably because the butler knows just how clumsy his Lord could be, but Diavolo waved him off and laid his head in Satan’s lap, who laid his book on top of Diavolo’s face. “Hey! I came all the way here and I got the cold book?” “You disrupted my reading” all meant in good humor, of course. Diavolo pushed the book off of his face and reached a hand up to brush along Satan’s cheek, which made the latter blush deeply. He’s still not fully used to this type of affection. “Hm… you look so handsome today. Did you do anything special to yourself?” Satan rolled his eyes although he did manage to turn his head and kiss Diavolo’s hand before it moved behind Satan’s ear to scratch it. Satan groaned softly, shivering slightly. Diavolo knows damn well that that is one of his weak spots. “There it is…. Good kitten.” Satan knows it’s a mock and although he’s blushing profusely, he’s also flicking Diavolo’s forehead, making him laugh. “Watch it. Kitten’s can claw.” Diavolo only growled playfully in response. 
“Can you believe us? A few months ago you didn’t even like me.” That’s not entirely true, he was just vary of the Demon Lord for over a few millennia, “and then Lucifer told me to just go for it.” Ah yes, Lucifer. Satan held back the urge to roll his eyes. “And then he said ‘Lord Diavolo, you would be not only blind but also a fool if you let this opportunity pass’ because he knew way more than either of us did.” The hell he did. “And you know what I said?” No, but he’s sure that Diavolo’s about to tell him. “I said, ‘Lucifer, my friend, don’t you worry. I will never take your beloved brother and son without first asking for permission’” Satan’s eye is twitching now and he finally found it in himself to say something, too, “is that all?” Diavolo’s smile slowly dropped when he saw Satan’s reaction and he was genuinely confused, slowly lifting his head from the guy’s lap and looking at him confused, “yes? Is something the matter?” He’s trying. He’s trying so hard not to snap right now so he just closes his eyes and just breathes for a couple of moments, “you know Lucifer said that when you--!” 
A growl escaped Satan and this time he actually did snap, whipping his head around to look at Diavolo. “Yeah? He said that? Must be nice. Anything else he said? Anything else he would like to add to our relationship or does he want to include himself next?!” Diavolo just stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure on how to approach this, “what? No. No, it’ll always be just us.” Blatant. Fucking. Lie. “apparently not! It’s Lucifer this, Lucifer that, and if you want Lucifer that badly, you can go and get him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that he ruined yet another thing!” anger is getting to him and the next thing he says was neither thought out nor actually meant to ever leave his lips, “you’re probably just with me to get back at Lucifer, am I right? Poor little Lucifer wouldn’t give you his heart so you go to the next best thing; me!” Diavolo was taken aback by that last statement and for a moment he just stared at Satan, his mouth hanging open, but it soon turned into a glare. 
“Is that what you think? That my feelings are a lie? If you believe me to be such a liar, why are you with me?” Because he loves him, duh. He hates how much he feels for him but he can’t stop it, that’s why constantly hearing about Lucifer drives him insane. “I only want you, Satan, and I thought I made that pretty clear, but apparently not.” Diavolo sat up on his knees and for a moment he thought the guy was going to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed his hands flat against the tree Satan was leaning against, glaring down at the fourth born before his eyes soften. “Stop being so jealous of your brother.” “I’m not jealous! You’re the one who only ever talks about him when your attention should be on me!” No matter how nice Diavolo was being right now, Satan is still glaring at the Lord, who turned his head and nodded at Barbatos. For what, Satan didn’t know, but it was for something. “Look at me Satan.” His eyes turned back up to look into Diavolo’s gold ones, holding so much softness and love, “I love you and only you.” 
Satan rolled his eyes and he was about to push Diavolo off and away, but the latter cupped the blond’s face and kissed him softly before resting his head against his. “Lucifer is my best friend, yes, but you’re my lover and if I wanted to pursue anyone other than you, I would’ve, but I didn’t. Don’t be angry.” Although it is hot when Satan gets angry and if this wasn’t such a serious discussion, Diavolo would’ve definitely made a move. The blush returned to Satan’s cheeks and he tried turning his head away, but Diavolo wouldn’t let him. “No. Say it back. I know you do.” Satan mumbled it under his breath because he knows he loves the guy too. “What? What’s that?” “I love you too…” “a little louder, Satan.” The blond glared at him and Diavolo couldn’t help but laugh, kissing him again, this time a bit deeper before he grabbed Satan’s hips and fell back into the grass with him, making sure the demon landed on top. “I said I love you too…” He’s been atop Diavolo so many times, but every time he feels like it’s the first time. “There you go. It’s way easier being honest, isn’t it?” Diavolo’s hips playfully snapped up against Satan’s and the blond’s blush deepened, barely able to steady himself on Diavolo’s chest.
“Whatever… Just don’t forget I’m your only one.” 
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ssa-emilyhotchner · 3 years
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14x10 ~
First, I'm going to start by saying that I'm beginning to really enjoy the last few seasons. Apparently, they are filled with subtle Hotchniss, so I guess I'll have to actually start watching s12-15🤭Btw, I have to give a special shout-out to @hotchnisscardigan​ who told me about the existence of this! 🥰🥰
The episode revolves around an old case that most of the team worked on in the past. The Milwaukee case. Sounds familiar? That's because is one of the most iconic Hotchniss episodes.
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14x10 was a walk down memory lane. Not only because of the case they worked on, but because we started seeing Emily reconciling with the decisions she made in her past. It's obvious that the writers not only wanted to focus on the evolution this case had over the years, but on how Emily was handling her own demons from her past. What's really interesting is why they decided to choose this specific case for this specific episode. They used such an emblematic Hotchniss episode to include Emily's doubt about dating Andrew Mendoza? Coincidence? I don't think so. 
JJ mentioned this during the episode, and she was definitely not wrong: 
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This conversation between Emily and Andrew gives me an incredible amount of deja vu. It kind of reminds me of 5x02, how concerned she was for Hotch. And how she wasn't sure it was such a great idea for him to return back to work. 
What really gets me is when Andrew says “what's one more scar“. I truly believe the CM crew wrote this on purpose, to somehow create a hidden reference about Hotch. With Foyet and his 9 stab wounds, all the issues later on regarding his internal bleeding because of the scar tissue. It just completely makes sense to me. 
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I was completely in awe when she couldn't remember that case. How is she going to forget that moment? When it was such a decisive one for her? She almost sacrificed her career in the FBI trying to save his. It just doesn't make any sense to me that she'd forget an important moment like that. Unless she chose to forget, for her own sake. Which would make sense, after hearing all her love quotes/phrases from these last seasons. She was definitely still in love with Hotch, but trying her hardest to move on. 
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Even JJ couldn't believe that she didn't remembered. Just look at her exasperated face haha.
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We've seen before that in these last few seasons, every time someone mentions Hotch's name, Emily does an unusual face expression. It feels almost involuntary. And this time was no exception. It's like all her memories about Hotch were coming back to her. 
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In this scene, the team is talking about the kid (who turned out to be the unsub), but somehow, part of me feels that she was remembering Hotch, just by looking at that painful expression she made. The way she couldn't even finish the sentence, makes this scene even more powerful. Emily wished she had kept in touch with Hotch after the whole Peter Lewis incident, but she knew that it was for the best that she didn't. A few weeks later after this, she starts talking about parallel universes and to me is just her simple way of saying that maybe in another life or in another time, they could've ended up together, but unfortunately there was always something that pushed them apart (Doyle, her resign from the FBI at the end of s7, Peter Lewis).
Also, Emily makes the same face expression as the one she has at the end of 13x01, when JJ asks her if Hotch was coming back. She looks down, to the side, anywhere that doesn't include making eye contact. It's as if she knew that her eyes could give her away. That right there, turned out to be her real tell. 
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Was she channeling Hotch? Didn't I just made a post a few days ago about how the binoculars where Hotch's favorite gadget? I think is the first time I've seen her using them in 14 seasons.
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This moment right here, has a deeper and more significant meaning than what she lets on. The first time I saw this scene, it reminded me of the whole Doyle arc. Especially when she says: “It is more about remembering what I was intended to do, and reconciling with what I had to do“. If she had confided in the team, but especially in Hotch, things would certainly have turned out differently, and that's a thing she has to live with forever: the uncertainty of not knowing what would've happened and how much her life would've changed, if she had trusted her team during that moment. If she had trusted her instincts. If she had trusted Hotch💔
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And that's what haunts her, how different her live would be right now if she had trusted her instincts. 
But, would she have been able to save him? To save Hotch? “I might have changed things for him” I truly believe she's talking about how if she had stayed, if she had done things differently with Doyle, if she had trusted her team instead of running away to protect them, she would've been able to continue helping him like she did after Haley died (which we know was the obvious reason for his speedy recovery). They would have had the relationship we know they both wanted, and maybe he wouldn't have had to face Mr. Scratch alone. Maybe not even face him at all. 
That's what she's really afraid of, why she can't move on. The endless possibilities, the what ifs.
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This last scene with Andrew SCREAMS Hotchniss to me. Those scars Emily's referring to? She's obviously talking about Hotch. I'm going to sound cliche but hear me out. How was she expected to move on when she practically had to live with a ghost? Hotch's presence was felt everywhere she went. Her new office, the round table room, the jet. As I've mentioned before, their relationship was much more deeper than both of them would ever like to admit. And of course, that would result in her scars taking a lot longer to heal. 
I think that what affected her the most was Hotch's decision not to return to the BAU. It was something she was clearly never expecting. Not after everything they've been through.
Before this scene, she says something about not being sure dating in this line of work was the right thing for her. She was just fine with Mark during s11, wasn't she? So what event could've happened to her during s12-14 that drastically changed her perspective? I'm putting all my money in Hotch and her disappointment when learning he wasn't returning. 
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floral-and-fine · 3 years
Text
Beary Cold part 1
Beorn x Female reader
A/n: Thank you @luna-xial​ for the title, I couldn’t resist it’s too cute! This has been sitting in my drafts for months now, glad I’m finally posting it.
Summary: The reader finds shelter from the cold one winter’s night, becoming Beorn's housemate for the winter. 
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Beorn’s eyelids still felt quite heavy as he finally managed to wake himself up. The bear inside of him protested, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep and stay surrounded by the warmth of his bed until spring. But Beorn had responsibilities, his animals needed him, so what the bear wanted would have to wait.
Rolling over onto his back he stared at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes threatening to slip shut again, but the ponies and other livestock were creating quite a ruckus, one so loud he couldn’t possibly ignore.
With a loud groan, he forced himself to sit up, then rolled his shoulders back, and stretched his arms above his head. He raked a large hand over his face and through his hair trying to wake himself up. He braced himself, as he peeled back the covers already losing warmth both even getting out of bed.
Swinging his legs over the edge, he wrinkled his nose as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. With heavy steps, he slowly dragged himself towards the animals. Once he was done with his chores or at least finished with the feeding, he could return to bed and sleep undisturbed for the rest of the day and night.
As he shuffled over to the fireplace to add more wood, Beorn narrowed his eyes as he spotted something that wasn’t there yesterday.
What could’ve passed as a heap of laundry on the middle of the floor, was a woman. She was curled up by the fire, using her cloak as a blanket and her arms as a pillow.
While he wasn’t fond of the idea of an intruder making themselves comfortable in his home, she didn’t seem like she could do much harm, and he doubted she meant to cause any trouble.
He smiled to himself, as he moved closer and crouched down, now noticing the little mice and chipmunks that seemed to be sharing her warmth as they nestled beside her. In her sleep, she pulled her cloak tighter around her body.
Sighing, Beorn glanced out the window, all across his fields were deep blankets of snow. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sent her back out there alone. Even if it wasn’t for the cold, he knew what danger lurked in the woods.
Wandering back to his bed, he grabbed one of his thick furs and returned to the woman. Carefully, as to not wake her, he placed the blanket over her.
Wandering into the kitchen, he gathered some bread and jarred fruit setting it out for his new housemate. …
You woke up, feeling warm and surprisingly refreshed considering you had slept on the floor. However, you would’ve froze to death last night if you hadn’t stumbled upon this small farm.
For the last few weeks, you had been traveling with a band of merchants heading towards Rivertown, things had been going well until a pack of orcs attacked the camp late last night.
They killed everyone, including the horses, you had barely managed to escape running as fast as you could into the darkness. The orcs didn’t bother chasing after you, figuring you’d die slowly alone in the cold.
Sitting up, you found that someone had placed a thick fur blanket over you. You ran your fingers over it, feeling how soft it was.
You chuckled, as a small chipmunk scurried up your arm and nuzzled against the crook of your neck distracting you from your thoughts.
“Good morning,” you murmured to your new friend as you gently scooped him into your hands. You scratched behind his ear a little with your index finger before setting him down.
You hadn’t noticed last night when you took refuge here, how large everything was from the giant chairs to the large chess pieces on the table. You were just so thankful for the shelter and the warm fire that nothing else seemed to matter.
Wrapping the fur blanket around your shoulders as you tiptoed through the house in search of your host. Stopping in front of what you assumed was the bedroom door, you softly knocked a few times and waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, you carefully pushed the door open peeking inside.
The room was dark, the window covered by thick drapes blocking out any light. Taking a few steps forward, you finally noticed the giant sprawled on top of his bed.
His hair was long and wild, and his features while handsome seemed to resemble something a little more feral.
You leaned over him, wondering if you should wake him in order to thank him properly, but he seemed to be in such a deep sleep that it seemed cruel to take that from him.
As you were about to return the fur blanket, the stranger snored so loud that you jumped back in fright. You laughed lightly, with your hand over your rapidly beating heart.
Shaking your head, you gently covered him with the fur and smiled. He shifted pulling it with him rolling over to his side. When he wakes later, you'll have your chance to show your gratitude.
Wandering back to the fireplace, you noticed the bread and fruit that had been placed nearby on the table. Taking a seat in a large wooden chair, you started snacking on the food.
As you ate, your chipmunk friend returned with a few mice tagging along. Tearing off a few chunks of bread, you scattered the pieces on the floor. You grinned watching as they stuffed their cheeks full.
You never encountered animals so comfortable around a stranger before, even the animals in the barn area were calm, accepting pets from you as you visited with them.
The hours went by slowly as you waited for your host to wake. You were eager to meet him, to find out who he was, and to thank him for his hospitality. But, as the sun started to set, he remained fast asleep. His occasional snores rumbled throughout the home reminding you of his presence.
You curled up in the chair by the fireplace, resting your head against the armrest. Your host showed no signs of waking and you doubted he would, seeing how it was night already.
“Perhaps, I’ll see him in the morning,” you muttered out loud to yourself.
At some point you must have dozed off, waking with a start as a heavy blanket was draped over you.
“Keep it,” a deep voice murmured above you.
Pulling it off your head, you watched as your host rummaged through his pantry, setting out food for you and gathering some to take with him.
“Thank you…” you trailed off, not knowing what to call him.
He turned back around to face you and raised his brow for a moment. “Beorn,” he answered.
Looking at his face, you could see how worn out he was, so instead of engaging in conversation, you smiled, snuggled into the blanket. “Thank you, Beorn,” you called out.
He nodded, yawning and he shuffled back to his room. “Good night, little lamb.”
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pagesoflauren · 3 years
Text
The Riveter Ch. 4
Steve Rogers x mechanic!reader
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Summary: After escaping Hydra, you assist Dr. Erskine in helping Steve Rogers become Captain America. When Erskine is assassinated, you think your WWII career is over. Unfortunately, the SSR and Hydra are not done with you yet.
Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, mentions of trauma, slow burn, dialogue-heavy chapters, comic book science
A/N: I hope you enjoy this. I had fun writing it!  Thank you to @seeevans and @dbnightingale24 for helping me with this! Major shoutout to @writeyourmindaway for creating such wonderful and beautiful dividers! 
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
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You’re jostled awake, shaken as you lay at the end of a truck bed, spotting the shaky view of the road. The sky is filled with smoke, the bitter smell filling your lungs, beckoning you away from dreamland. 
Though, your sleep was dreamless nonetheless. 
You can’t recall anything immediately, only feeling the urgent need to get off the truck you’re on. As your senses slowly become acute, you can hear some soldiers speaking German behind you. 
“It’s amazing it’s still asleep,” one mutters. 
“I wonder what Herr Schmidt did,” another voice responds. 
“That’s not important,” the first one speaks up again. “We should not concern ourselves with such matters too much. All we need to know is it’s vital to us winning the war.”
You cringe at the pronoun they use for you, but ignore it as you begin to devise a plan to escape. 
Slitting your eyes open, you spy the switch used to drop the tailgate. Stretching your leg under the guise of fidgeting in your sleep, your toe just reaches the lever. You don’t hear or sense any movement from the men, so you keep your foot poised there. 
A few minutes later, you hear exactly what you were hoping for: “Hold on, men!” the driver calls from the cab. 
There’s a rough patch in the road and you kick. The other objects and the metal rack above the bed rattle too, masking the sound of the tailgate dropping. With it down, you’re exposed to the breeze.
You’re tossed this way and that and the men seem distracted with securing whatever else is being transported with you. You take that as your opportunity, rolling out and bracing yourself quickly. 
Falling on the bumpy dirt road knocks the breath out of you, but you gulp and turn to your front to get to your feet. Before the men can recognize that you’re gone, you’ve disappeared into the treeline. 
Leaning against a trunk, you catch your breath and try to orient yourself, but you don’t have much direction. What began as confusion between east and west grew into not knowing which way is up or down. Sliding down to sit, you lean your head back. When you close your eyes, you hear Zola’s voice echoing in your head. 
-----
Celebrations were underway, Steve still receiving congratulations while the captured men reunited with their friends, lovers, and commanders. He even received the Medal of Valor, which he didn’t attend the ceremony for. 
Not only was there so much to do in London, he knew in his heart he couldn’t accept it. While he succeeded in saving Bucky and the rest of the 107th, he failed to make sure his partner was safe as the two of you carried out your mission. 
In idle moments, he hears you screaming; behind shut eyes, he sees your face. When he doesn’t see you, he sees Peggy and Howard, somber expressions. Where Agent Carter is normally composed, her lip wobbles at the thought of you. Howard ran a hand down his face, eyes shiny and voice clogged as he asked if there was a chance you were alive. 
Steve didn’t know, and he still doesn’t. He was sent to England less than a day after returning from Austria. Peggy was called too but requested an extension to continue working with Howard in Italy. 
Work continued, but it was slower without her intelligence contributions in devising a plan to take down the Hydra bases he made note of. After a long day of nothing, Colonel Phillips dismisses the meeting. 
“Rogers, before you hit the hay,” the older man says, “You may want to visit the infirmary before their visiting hours end.” 
Confused and concerned, Steve nods and makes his way out of the situation room, navigating the narrow halls to the medical wing.
He sees Howard first, sitting across from a head of brown curls that Steve can deduce is Agent Carter. There’s a doctor at the foot of the bed relaying information to the patient. 
You lay there, scratches adorning your face and eyes heavily lidded. 
Steve’s heart is light with disbelief and repose for feeling calm at the sight of you safe in an Allied facility. 
“...I’ll leave you to rest.” 
“Thank you, doctor,” you smile. 
Howard spots him in the doorway, nodding in greeting, “Hey, Cap.”
Stepping in awkwardly, Steve feels shy seeing you. He stands in the place the doctor once occupied, hands folded behind your back. 
“I’d venture to say dress greens suit you better than tights,” you joke, voice gravelly. You laugh then groan and Steve is concerned again. 
“You can’t laugh, love,” Peggy reminds you.
“What happened?” he wonders.
You rattle off your injuries: scratches, dislocated shoulder from falling out of the truck, bruised ribs, and major fatigue from lack of food and water. 
“How’s your head?” Howard prods.
“Better now that I’ve rested.”
Steve likes hearing that you’ve been better, but he can’t imagine what you’ve been through that was worse. “When did you get here?” 
“We arrived at a little past noon. The doctor thinks she was out in the Austrian forest for a little over twelve hours before we found her,” Peggy answers for you. “We’ll give you two some time to catch up.” 
“Why do we have to--”
There’s a thud and Howard groans, face scrunching up in pain as he looks at Peggy. 
“Ouch! ...Okay. We’ll see you later, little miss,” he gets up, kissing your forehead. “Captain.” 
“Get some rest, love,” Peggy cradles your cheek.
“Thank you,” you say, grabbing her hand. “Thank you for finding me.”
“Of course,” she smiles. She turns back to Steve, regarding him with a nod.
When they both leave, your eyes are on him and he smiles nervously, pointing to the chair Peggy just vacated. You tilt your head towards it as if giving him permission to sit down.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he tells you honestly. “Must’ve been hell...being in there alone.” 
Your shoulder lifts slightly; a shrug of some sort. “Could’ve been worse. I think it goes without saying, though.” 
Pursing his lips, he considers your words for a moment. “Do you remember anything?”
You close your eyes and inhale slowly, wincing a little at the pain when your ribs move as you take in air. “Plenty.” Eyes opening, you look a little perplexed. “But at the same time, not a lot.” 
Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Your mouth opens to speak, but you’re interrupted by nurses murmuring at a nearby table. “I’d explain but it’s classified.” 
“You’d keep secrets from me?” he smirks. “Thought we were friends.” 
You smile. “Only until we’re around people on a need-to-know basis. Phillips must’ve told you, right?” Steve tilts his head curiously. “Once I’m on my feet, I’m meant to debrief everything I remember.” 
He makes a mental note to ask Phillips about it. At the mention of you recovering, Steve thinks back to the injuries you mentioned. “Seems like you got outta Hydra with a lot of luck.” 
Your face doesn’t change, but he sees your eyes flick to the left. “Luck indeed.” 
“Could’ve been worse, like you said.” 
You purse your lips, nodding. 
Looking down, Steve decides to drop the subject. Howard and Peggy went all the way back to the factory to find you based on the slim chance that you were still alive. He can imagine them combing through dozens of trees before finding you. 
They trust you. Steve trusts you. 
But why wasn’t it worse for you?
“Captain Rogers, my apologies,” a nurse speaks as she approaches your bedside. “But it’s time for the infirmary to close to visitors.” 
Nodding to her, there’s an idle moment until she realizes she should give some space for him to say goodnight. 
“Well,” he says, standing up, “Feel better soon.” 
“Thanks, Steve.”
He pauses, fidgeting with the air as he contemplates bidding you goodbye in an additional way. You raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“Goodnight,” he blurts, turning on his heel and walking out. He can hear you saying it back as he leaves, a perplexed lilt in the word. 
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Days later, Steve sits surrounded by other high-ranking officers. Howard is there too, studying a diagram of a Hydra weapon you drew. 
“...She suspects Schmidt is plotting something big, but she doesn’t know exactly what it is or where it could be headed,” Agent Carter concludes, standing at the head of the table. She debriefs the men while you continue to recover in the infirmary, not wanting the SSR to lose time while your body heals. “Questions, gentlemen?”
“This is everything she told you?” Colonel Phillips asks. 
“Yes. It’s all she remembers as well. That drawing is all we have of a blueprint that shows how the Hydra weapons work.” 
“Any information on where the power source is?” another man speaks up. 
“With power such as that, I think it’s safe to assume Schmidt would keep it close. Can’t imagine he’d want it possibly falling into the wrong hands.” 
“And she said it was a stone in a cube?” 
Peggy makes a show of looking at her notes, “Yes, those are Schmidt’s words to her.” 
“You think we can trust her?” he follows up quickly, speaking just as she finishes her sentence.
“I beg your pardon?” Her tone is taken aback as if the question was insulting to her. Steve can understand her offense, but if he’s honest, he wonders the same thing. 
How could someone fall out of a truck and get away with injuries like yours? He would’ve thought you had a head wound and broken bones.
“Why is she even alive?” His follow up question is accusatory. “This is Hydra we’re talking about. They built weapons that disintegrate men and captured a scientist to create a super-soldier serum. They’re led by a lunatic with a melted face. There’s no way they would have kidnapped a mechanic and keep her alive. She worked for them. She knows too much. Why would they risk her escaping and telling us what she knows?”
“If it’s her loyalty you’re questioning, sir, you have no reason to. Hydra has killed everyone she holds dear. She has no family and even her mentor was killed by them. You all saw it. She was taken from her home that didn’t even have any German connections other than the Hydra spy she fitted with a prosthetic arm. Hydra has done nothing for her.” She pauses, appearing to inhale deeply to gather herself. “I don’t think we have any reason to suspect she is undercover on their behalf. I believe Colonel Phillips knows this well; she refused coming to Europe for the SSR in fear that Hydra would find her.” 
He appears satisfied with her defense, raising his hands in surrender. 
“Any more questions?” she asks, crossing her arms, her tone somewhat challenging. 
After a moment, Colonel Phillips stands. “Thank you, Agent. Have a seat.” Nodding, she finds a chair next to Howard. “Now, we have decided to task our former mechanic with being Mr. Stark’s assistant in weapons and she’ll work with Agent Carter in tactics. She has good intel, but we don’t want her skills going to waste. I’m sure she can help think up some good ways to keep our boys safe. I will debrief with her again in the coming days to see if she remembers anything more.” 
After opening the floor to questions again, Phillips dismisses the meeting. Steve watches from his seat as everyone gets up, scattering to their respective workplaces. 
“Stark, Carter, get to work. We need to make sure Rogers and his men are well equipped and ready. Don’t wanna be sending our chorus girl into the fray in his little spangled suit.” 
Phillips looks proud of his joke as he smiles for a split second. His face straightens quickly and he nods before dismissing himself. 
“If you’ll excuse me, boys,” Peggy leaves shortly after. “Should attend to your tactics, Captain.” 
“I should get to working on your stuff,” Howard excuses himself and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure you don’t look as ridiculous as you do on the stage.”
“Actually,” Steve stops him, “I kinda liked that uniform.” 
Stark looks thoughtful for a minute before he laughs. “Well, I’ll find a compromise. The little miss absolutely hates that suit.” 
Tilting his head and squinting, Steve leaves and heads towards the canteen. 
-----
“I hear you hate my suit.”
The baritone of his voice pulls you from the pages you’re reading. 
He stands in his dress greens again, a dashing smirk on his face as the lights illuminate him from behind, making his hair look like a golden halo above his head. 
“Who told you that?” You close your book, looking at him curiously. Setting it on your bedside table, you sit up a little more. 
“Stark,” he states plainly.
You chuckle once, shaking your head. You expect him to be laughing too, but when you look back up at him, he’s shuffling from one foot to the other. 
“Um, did you--?” you begin, but he blurts out in the middle of your question, “Can I help you with anything?”
“I’m sorry?” you ask, confused. 
“Well, I just...I was wondering if you needed anything. Are you hungry? Or how’s your leg?”
“Oh--” 
“What about the pillow behind you, does that need to be fluffed? Maybe I could bring you another book.” 
“Steve--?”
“Just...anything you need?” 
You blink, waiting for him to continue. When he says nothing else, you pipe up. “Well, I’d love some water.” 
He’s quick to accommodate you, walking to the cart on the other side of the room to grab a pitcher and bring it over to your bedside. He picks up the glass next to your book and begins to pour. 
You’re not quite sure how it happened--perhaps some water got on the handle which made it slippery--but the metal vessel fell out of his grip and bounced on your mattress before clattering loudly on the floor. 
The water is making itself known as it seeps through your blanket and your hospital gown, making you cringe away. Steve’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are rosy, the bright color spreading all the way to his ears. 
“I’m so sorry!” He looks up at the hospital staff that heard the ruckus, “I’m sorry, it slipped. She needs a new gown...and bed.” 
They come to assist you, a nurse nudging him out of the way as she lays some rags down to soak up the puddle on the floor. 
“Excuse me, Captain,” she says politely. 
He steps back, watching as the team helps you out of bed to stand on your feet. His heart sinks at the pain you must be in from your ribs, but it doesn’t show on your face. 
“I’ll just,” he excuses himself, but no one is paying attention. 
Shaking his head, he goes to the canteen to sulk. 
---
“I’m back.” 
Steve’s next to your new bed, hands carrying a tray and you can imagine the precarious journey he took to get from the canteen to here. 
“You eat supper yet?” 
“No.” You’re a little relieved. Your nose detects the comforting scent of buttered mashed potatoes and baked chicken. Steve sets the tray in your lap and your eyes gobble the sight, bright orange carrots brilliant against your eyes and a warm bread roll with a pat of butter inviting you to take a bite. “This is the best,” you gush, “I’ve eaten ham sandwiches and Jell-O for the past five days.” 
You close your eyes at the feeling of airy, fluffy fresh bread in your mouth, loving the crunch of the crust between your teeth. 
You moan happily before turning to him. “Thank you,” you smile.
He nods, “Of course. I hope it makes up for my stupid blunder earlier. I’m really sorry about that.”
You observe him as you take another bite, watching him as he watches you. You can’t describe it, but his face manages to say it all.
“Somehow I feel like you’re not here to just apologize for the spilled water. It really wasn’t a huge problem, by the way. They just moved me and gave me a new gown.” 
“Well, I--” he gives a one-handed shrug before bringing his palm to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there nervously. “I also just...wanted to say sorry.” 
You hum, reaching to the bedside table and sipping from the glass of water. “‘Sorry’ for what?” 
There’s a look in his eyes, something somber and guilt-ridden that makes the blue a little dull. “For leaving you. There. With them.” 
Your head stings, eyes squeezing shut. You can feel your body jolt and a word echoes as if it’s coming from above you. 
Befehl.
You shake your head vigorously, gasping a little. 
“Are you alright?” 
“Yes,” you breathe. “Sorry, I’m not sure what happened.” 
“Should I call the doctor?”
“No, no. I’m okay.” You gave your head another small jostle before addressing his apology. “Steve, you have nothing to be sorry about. I knew what I was getting into when I jumped out of the plane with you. I’m here now, I’m okay.” 
“But I--”
“Steve, it was my choice.” 
Your sentence seems to stun him into silence. He closes his eyes and gives a reluctant smile. “I guess you’re right.” 
The corner of your mouth twitches up as he concedes. You eat for a few minutes, a little self conscious as you notice his watching you. 
“So...uh, what’s your favorite color?” 
You laugh. “Captain Rogers, why are you here other than to bring me dinner, give me a completely unnecessary apology, and ask me what my favorite color is?” 
“Howard and Peggy are working tonight,” he uses his thumb to point to the door. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” 
There’s a flutter in your stomach, a surge of warmth and happiness that blooms in your chest, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your mouth or the heat that gathers in your face. 
“Well, thank you,” you say as calmly as you can, trying to deflect your emotions by feeding yourself more supper. “How’s your friend? Bucky?” 
He smiles, too, before diving into a story about him. 
He stays as long as he can, telling you stories as you eat and try to not squirt water out of your nose when he makes you laugh. You forget there’s a battle raging on above your heads and across the English Channel. You forget there’s a chance of a Blitz in the evening, or even during the day. 
Forgetting is dangerous. It’s a distraction from what’s really important and demands your attention. 
But you don’t see anything wrong here when you’re on bedrest. 
“They’ll be working again tomorrow,” he says as he gets up when visiting hours are over. “I don’t know when they’ll be free to visit. I could…” He hesitates, looking down and pursing his lips. “I could come by again. Bring you more dinner.” 
You don’t mind being alone, but you don’t tell him that. 
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vagabondreamer · 3 years
Text
After the Fall (3)
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Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC
Word Count: 2k
Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.
Chapter Summary: MC wanders the house, and almost finds a secret. Instead, she finds herself in a very embarrassing situation.
Author’s Note: I will be starting a tag list for anyone who is interested!
***
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Turning around, you looked at him - a prominent frown was plastered on his face.
“You transformed with me.”
“You made me mad.” You emphasized that it was his fault. “I don’t know Lucifer! I just - I was terrified, and you were right - I’m naive and my body betrayed me; is that what you want to hear?”
“No, I don’t want to hear that.” You didn’t think it was possible for his frown to deepen but it did.
“I just want to forget this ever happened, okay?” He nodded and allowed you to leave without any further questions.
The thought of having to explain to everyone what happened made your body quiver. It was only your second day, and you had already been attacked; you felt like a walking target. Dropping your bag off in your room, you dug through it to find your DDD. You had five missed calls - three from Lucifer and two from Mammon - and about twenty unread messages. It ranged from Mammon asking ‘where are ya?’ to Mammon freaking out and saying ‘Lucifer’s gonna hang me if you don’t come home’. Lucifer’s messages also varied, from ‘you better get home right now’ to ‘are you okay?’. He must’ve went back to RAD to look for you - you 're so lucky he did.
Grabbing a small blanket, you wrapped it around your shoulders and let it drape off your body. You decided it would be better to face the brothers now, rather than wait it out. Walking towards the kitchen you could smell something delicious being made, and could faintly hear music being played in the background. Barely popping your head in, you see Satan.
“Is dinner almost done?” You asked softly.
“Yeah, just two more minutes. Do you mind setting the table?” He asked without looking up.
“Okay.” You grabbed plates and silverware, placing it on the dining table. After you were finished, you looked at the eight chairs - one at the head of the table, one at the foot, and three on each side. Obviously, Lucifer would be seated at the head, but where did the others usually sit? You didn’t want to take anyone’s seat, but you also didn’t want to be trapped in-between anyone. Choosing the foot of the table, you sat down, wrapping the blanket tighter and waited for everyone to join you.
Lucifer was the first to arrive - no surprise there, he was always punctual. Then, the rest filtered in. Satan brought out the food on various dishes, placing it in the middle for everyone to partake in. He sat down adjacent to your left, Asmo was to his left, and then Levi. To your right was an empty chair, and then Beel, to his right was Mammon. Thankfully, it seemed everyone was too focused on food to notice the condition you’re in. You served some food onto your plate, and listened to the various conversations the boys were having.
“Everyone has to enter the event! They’re giving away a limited edition Ruri-chan figure and I need to win it!” Levi exclaimed.
“Limited edition? That must mean it’s worth a lot. Yeah, I’ll enter ya silly competition.”
“No, Mammon, if you win it you have to give it to me!”
“What are ya gonna give to me in exchange?”
You tuned out the rest of the conversation. You weren’t sure what a Ruri-chan was, but decided not to ask about it; Levi seemed passionate about it, and you didn’t want to sit here all night.
“So, MC, how was detention?” Satan turned to you to tease you, knowing good and well that he had ditched you, but his expression dropped when he saw the claw marks on your face.
“Detention?” Mammon questioned. Great. All eyes were on you - all eyes were on your injury.
“MC! Your face!” Asmo got up to get a closer look, but you raised your hand, hoping to stop him.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“What the hell happened?” Satan inquired.
“Enough. She doesn’t have to answer any questions.” Lucifer’s voice was firm.
“It’s okay. After detention, I was attacked, that’s really all that happened.” Your eyes watered up, but you just tightened the blanket over you. “And Lucifer saved me, so I’m okay.”
“Oh MC!” Amso cried out. “Can I hug you?” You nodded and accepted his embrace. “You poor thing.”
Asmo coddled you in your seat, it felt nice to be cared for.
The look on Mammon’s and Beel’s faces were heartbreaking, but they didn’t push the subject further.
“Satan, how did you know she had detention?” You could see Satan scratch the back of his neck, knowing Lucifer was going to rip him a new one.
“I also got detention with her...and Solomon. But I lied and said I had a meeting with you, and the professor let me go. I’m assuming Solomon made up an excuse too.” His face was filled with guilt.
“You and Mammon are going to receive a punishment after dinner.”
“Wait, I didn’t do anything!” Mammon declared.
“Exactly. I told you to make sure she didn’t get hurt, and you failed.”
You untangled yourself from Asmo’s grasp and sat up.
“No, it’s not their fault. They shouldn’t be blamed for my mistakes.” Lucifer’s intense gaze fell on you, softening slightly.
“MC, it’s not your fault.”
“I was the one who was talking in class, and I’m the one who told Mammon I could take care of myself.” Standing up, you placed your hands flat against the table. “I made a foolish mistake. It won’t happen again.”
You went to your room for the rest of the night.
***
A whole school week had passed. Lucifer still punished Satan and Mammon despite you asking him not to, this meant Mammon was practically glued to your hip from now on. You had been questioned by Solomon and the angels about what happened to your face, and gave them the short story. Simeon had been a big help making you feel safe; he suggested texting each other everyday to check in on each other. And Luke, well, he complained that you shouldn’t be in a house full of demons.
It was Saturday, this meant that most of the boys were out of the house - aside from Lucifer and Levi. You were tired of being in your room all the time, and silently wished you had asked Asmo to take you shopping like he promised. Wandering around the house aimlessly, you decided to go mess with Levi. You didn’t know him too well, except he was obsessed with Ruri-chan and always called himself a yucky otaku; he was kind of weird, you hadn’t ever met someone like him in the Celestial Realm, but he peaked your interest enough. Knocking on his door, you call out his name. No answer. You try again. Same result. You try to turn the door knob but it’s locked.
“You have to say the secret password!” He yelled.
“I don’t know the secret password!”
“Then you can’t get in!” You’re dumbfounded by his logic; he must really not want to hang out with you. Leaving him alone, you go on a quest to rid your boredom. Messing with Lucifer would only result in him lecturing you, so you explored the house instead.
It was easy to get lost. You did it several times. Every door just led to a hallway of more doors, and some even opened into walls. You almost fell out of the second story because one door opened to the outside! There were several staircases that led to nowhere, and you were starting to wonder who created this poorly designed house. You were about to give up and go back to your room when you heard a soft voice - it was singing a lullaby. The song was faint, but you tried to follow it. You started walking up a spiral staircase, the sound was getting stronger.
“MC.” The voice startled you causing you to miss your next step. You would’ve fell down the stairs had it not been for his strong arms catching you.
“Lucifer?”
“What are you doing here?” He set you down on stable ground.
“I was just exploring. I’m bored.”
“Don’t go up these stairs.”
“Why not?” He combed his hair with his gloved hand - you were stressing him out.
“Because I said so.” Placing his hand on your lower back, he led you out back into the main hall.
“That’s not a fair reason.”
“Fine, you can help me with paperwork.”
“Wait - what?”
“You said you were bored? I’ve got plenty for you to do.”
“Well, I’m not that bored -” you tried to protest.
“Come, now.” You sighed in defeat and followed him to his office. You make a mental note to never tell Lucifer you’re bored. He pulls a seat to his desk, perpendicular to his chair. You climb onto the chair, sitting on your legs so that you’re close enough to the desk. There’s a huge stack of papers on his desk, you groan not wanting to do any work.
“Are you always this lazy?”
“No offense, but why would I try to make an effort down here?” You cross your arms. “I don’t overwork myself, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Well that doesn’t sound very angel-like.” You rolled your eyes, he’s one to talk.
“All you have to do is separate the papers into urgent and not urgent. That way I can get to the urgent ones first and then do the rest.” He plopped the stack in front of you.
“How am I supposed to know what’s urgent or not?”
“Trust your instinct to make the right decision.”
“My instinct?”
“It has to be somewhere in there,” he pointed to your head, you swatted his hand away. You could’ve swore there was a ghost of a smile on his face. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you started to separate the papers, trusting your instinct.
It felt like hours had passed by the time you completely separated all of the papers. Lucifer was concentrating on the paperwork he was doing, it gave you enough time to finally look at his face up close without his burning stare.
His hair was pitch black, besides the ends that looked faded. The locks of his hair perfectly framed his face, and not a single strand was out of place. Your eyes wandered across his cheek to his jawline; his skin looked soft, yet his jaw was so masculine. Every nerve in your body wanted to reach up and caress his face. His mouth was in his permanent pout, but his lips looked kissable. Your gaze wandered up - even his nose was perfect - you reached his eyes, his beautiful red eyes.
Red eyes.
Watching you.
Instantly, your face matched that color. And his once pout turned into a smirk. All that you can think about is getting out of here. Your chair was pulled so forward against the desk that you couldn’t scoot back, so you tried to leap over the chair’s arm - but in your embarrassed state that proved to be too difficult. Tripping and nearly falling over, you caught yourself and heard a small chuckle come from behind you. You don’t even look back as you race out of his office and back to your room.
Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it and fell to the floor. What was that all about? Never in your life had you looked at another being the way you just looked at him. Yeah, when you saw Simeon you admired him, but you were admiring God’s work! Sure, Lucifer was handsome, but kissable? No way - no way in hell! You got up and started pacing the room. Why did you run away like a scared schoolgirl? You could’ve played that off, but now he definitely knows you were admiring his face! Would he use this against you? Oh, he would definitely use this against you.
It was Lucifer.
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After the Fall Tag List @ptv-hades
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aitarose · 3 years
Text
A HUNDRED LIVES (H. IWAIZUMI) pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader
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synopsis: only real relationships stand the test of time, some fair better than others—but in the end, all that truly matters is telling them you love them. all that mattered was how hajime would finally confess.
word count: 2.2k
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, mutual pining
warnings: mentions of death
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notes: i hated the way this was and i’ve had it finished for like a week and a half but now it’s in second person because i rewrote the whole thing ok aha enjoy! reblogs are very much appreciated like pls tell me what you think about this i kind of love it?? or do i? idk
↳ DIRECTORY
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You knew that congratulations were in order, one for not only you, but the entire third year class of Aoba Johsai. The third year class that you’d grown up with, the people that’d graduated together from their high school duties. The very people that you’d grown up with, known for years on years, were moving on from Miyagi and saying their goodbyes.
It was saddening, knowing that you’d all have to leave your past behind, grow up and move on as an individual. You, yourself, hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that you’d be moving to Tokyo—the city of stars and big dreams. There was something solemn about the thought—beginning a life on your own, away from the friends and family you’d grown used to seeing every day.
Which was why today was all the more important, why it mattered so much in the hole of your mind. It was one final hurrah, one final farewell to all of the fleeting people you’d come to love. All of the classmates from first period, advisors who’d suggested career paths, family friends and relatives that’d seen you grow up—and him.
Iwaizumi Hajime.
As children, you and Iwa had been as close as you could possibly be—spending nearly every day with one another as you were next-door neighbors, only separated by a thin wooden fence. One that was commonly crossed, as it was impossible to stay away from his energy—he’d been your first friend, first crush, the very first boy you’d ever daydreamed about while the sun was awake. 
Perhaps it’d been his smile, the joy on his face as he’d swing you back and forth on the playground. How he’d try his best to teach you how to set and spike, lecturing Oikawa as he’d complain about how you were never going to be good at the sport, and ignoring his best friend’s claims of a secret little crush on his favorite girl.
And though those times had been fun and all, the moments in which you’d meet each other between the dividing fences of your backyards during the evening hours, Oikawa long gone—and run off to the countryside to play in the old and sturdy tree house that your father had built the two of you, had always been amongst your favorite memories.
They were the memories that were always on the back of your mind, itching to be recalled, reenacted—the longing you had for him never truly going away even as you grew apart as time went on. That part of your brain, the part that might’ve loved him only taunted you—taunted you with the brokenness of the bond you thought would always last.
Your greatest wish was that you would’ve been able to keep in close contact throughout the late middle and high school years—but life had come in the way, life had ruptured your attachment to him—the responsibility of upholding your family after the death of your father had surpassed your need for Iwa, creating an abyss with no bridge to cross.
No bridge except a tiny, frail wooden beam that would only be stepped on in the times where Iwaizumi and his boasting best friend would stop at his house to hang out when after-school practice had ended. While it was rare that his path would cross yours, there were some sparing moments in which you’d miraculously be outside to greet them. 
It wasn’t like you and Iwa weren’t friends anymore, it was just that you’d each let the void amass for so long that there was nothing you really had in common—nothing except the bright pink flush on the both of your faces as Oikawa would poke fun at his ace’s face, causing Iwa to drag him into his house with a stoney and angered expression. 
And that was it. That was the only interaction you’d ever have, the only time you’d speak to the boy you thought you loved.
Which was why you weren’t all that surprised when he hadn’t decided to show up to your graduation party despite the handwritten letter you’d dropped off on his doorstep. His absence was deafening, making it all the more difficult to say your goodbyes as the person you wanted to see most, didn’t care enough to bid a farewell.
So, you’d decided to take matters into your own hands and somehow move on from the lost dreams that you’d once shared with Iwaizumi. The only reasonable way being to let go of that broken connection, the connection that had started with your little hideaway—the hideaway amongst the trees that you’d found yourself climbing up now. 
The calloused wood of the ladder splintered beneath your hands, scratching the taut skin, sanding its softness—no doubt blistering it to oblivion. You winced, curses flowing under your breath as you hesitantly reached the top, not exactly knowing what to expect as the treehouse had seemingly been abandoned for years.
Pushing your nerves aside, you crawled into the tiny space, forgetting how much younger and smaller you’d been the last time you’d sat in the little alcove. Looking up, your eyes grazed over the clean walls of the hideout, free from overgrown plants and cobwebs and dusted to near perfection—there wasn’t a single thing out of place.
It was surprising, the sight of your childhood playhouse having been taken care of after you’d assumed it had been forgotten—after you’d forgotten. Someone had to have been maintaining its structure, keeping it tidy and homey—that someone being the boy sitting directly across from you, scaring you half to death as his irises grew wide in shock.
“What the—” You started, tripping over your own feet as you fell backwards towards the opening of the doorway. A small scream grew on your lips as you began to free fall, nearly out into the open air before Iwaizumi reached out—catching your wrist in his, reminding you of the times when this was a common occurrence—when he’d never fail to keep you on your feet.
“You alright?” He breathed out, large hand gripping your wrist, continuing to hold on even though you were standing between his arms. It was comforting, the feeling of being so close to him, back in the presence of the boy who’d you’d lost oh-so-long ago—the boy you’d been hoping to see at some point before you had to leave for university. “I see you’re still a bit clumsy.”
Rolling your eyes and stepping away from his familiarity, you crossed your arms, one resting over the other, clear confusion in your eyes. “And I see that you’re still attached to this little shack.” There was a hint of humor in your tone, laughter being vocalized, but pain within its context. “It looks amazing, though—for how long it’s been.”
Iwa scoffed, shaking his head as he bit his lip—mouth itching to say something, then refusing to do so. Perhaps it’d been a snarky remark, or maybe one of sadness, whatever it’d been was lost, now a mystery to your ears. Instead, he patted the stray couch cushion next to him, offering you a seat—the seat that had used to be yours.
You sat in silence, together yet apart as the sun was setting over the far away fields. With every second, every sun ray splitting off and being reborn in moonlight, you could feel your adolescence slipping away—the thought of being dependent and a child losing meaning, losing importance, losing validity and need.
Thoughts running wild, chaos in your mind, the only constant being fear and anxiety in retrospect to the unknown that was your future—your future miles and miles away from everything that you’d come to love. Noticing the stress in your stature, Iwaizumi took a deep breath—wanting to hold your hand, but stopping himself before he could try.
“It hasn’t been that long, you know.” He said softly, glancing over at you. A little smile grew on his face at the furrow in your eyebrows, the slight upturn of your lips, and scrunched nose. If there was any beauty in the world, any beauty at all—Iwa believed that you were gifted with all of it. “I used to come here every night.”
“Yeah, Hajime—I know.” You responded, scoffing as you called him by his first name, the only name you’d ever known him by. “We both did, I was here too—” In the midst of your smart-assed response, he shook his head. There was something about his posture, energy, that made you stop in your tracks—it was one of his little ticks, one of the things that you’d never failed to remember. 
“But that’s just the thing—you weren’t here.” He mumbled, tapping the top of his knee with a finger as he leant back against the wooden walls, a reminiscent look in his eyes. “I’ve always been here, Y/N—always kept this place perfect for you, on the off chance that you’d come back. On the off chance that we’d keep our promises and not forget about each other.”
There was a sense of solemnness to the words spouting from his mouth, the truth that she had in fact left him behind—all with reason that he undoubtedly understood—but that didn’t make up for the lost years and memories that they could’ve had had she not been so distracted with the troubles of life and reliability.
“This is going to sound ridiculous since you’re leaving soon—” Iwa mumbled under his breath, internally cursing at himself at the horrible placement of his timing. “—but I’m not going to lie, Y/N. I really did think we’d end up together, somehow. When I proposed to you in that corner over there with that grass ring, I meant it. I meant every word.”
“Even if that ring had fallen apart two seconds after I tried to slip it on you.” A laugh bubbled from your throat, recalling the memory from when you were children—how he’d given you a kiss on the cheek along with getting down on one knee. The two of you had had a makeshift wedding after that, gathering all of your stuffed animals and placing plastic chairs beneath the tree—saying your vows with your parents in attendance, watching fondly at the pure sight.
Biting your lip, you turned to face him and his gaze that had already been intent on seeing you. There was a ghost of a grin on his features, wistful wonder in his irises, his hair messy and sticking in every direction due to the static—yet he was still the most handsome boy you’d ever seen. “I’m sorry.” You placed a hand on his, stopping the fidgeting nerves in his lap, and calming the rushing blood in his veins. 
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long.” Wincing at the thought of your carelessness, the complete disregard you’d kept for his feelings along with your own. You’d had no intent on leaving Iwa behind, you’d just been so caught up with your own problems that he’d gotten lost in the mix of it all. “I must be a pretty shitty wife.”
Iwa laughed loudly, head dropping back at your remark. The moment was filled with deja vu, reigniting all of the feelings and love you’d buried under the hauntings of your mind. He always seemed to manage to make that broken part of you feel whole again, with his directed remarks and little jokes. “You’re not wrong, left me all alone after the altar—that doesn’t exactly scream ‘perfect wife’ material.”
Those words seemed to trigger something in him, a feeling that he hadn’t yet overcome as his expression turned stoney. Placing his empty palm above yours, hands stacked atop one another in a tower, Iwa grimaced, choosing his next set of sentences very wisely—knowing full well that they could make or break whatever chances he had with you.
“It’s alright though.” He whispered, his warmth heating the radiating coldness that was you. “Since I’d rather live a hundred lives of loneliness, then see you suffer even a minute of sadness.”
With his emotions bare, confessions out on the table, the things he said were more meaningful than those three little words themselves—you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow. The love you held for him overcompensating for every mistake and pain that you must’ve caused him—the only goal listed in your head being to make the rest of your time count, make the rest of your lives worth something together.
Leaning forward, ignoring the look of surprise on Iwa’s face as your nose touched his, you smiled through the outflowing sentences—outflowing thoughts that were spouting out like raindrops in a thunderstorm. “Sounds like you might be living a pretty lonely life, then.” 
He chuckled, calloused hands cupping your cheeks as he pulled you in, pressing a soft and long-overdue kiss to your awaiting lips. It was euphoria, the absolute bliss that was being with him, the boy of your dreams. It was a kiss that you’d spent countless nights thinking over, countless fleeting wishes of him holding you exactly as he was now. 
While your future had always been uncertain, there was at least one constant—a constant that would hopefully always be right within your grasp, right within your arms to hold on to, listen to, love wholeheartedly. Iwaizumi Hajime was it for you, he was the endgame that you’d always been searching for.
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© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own
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girlboss-molina · 3 years
Text
Truth or Dare- Remixed
Backstory: I was on discord with @willex-n-waffles and @screamsingayfear and had an Idea so we did some Brainstorming (mostly just me yelling about idiot gays and creating a new truth-or-dare-esque game) and now you get this ficlet. No need to thank me, I know I’m amazing. 
Also, Truth or Challenge was one of my Brainstorming ideas!
Ao3 Link
Words: 1691
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“I have to admit, a sleepover with ghosts is a first,” Julie remarked amusedly, “but I’m down. And the best part is that y’all can’t eat my snacks,” she added with a smirk. Luke rolled his eyes, but Alex noticed the red dusting his cheeks. It wasn’t like it never happened, he was a certified Julie Simp. But they were both so. fucking. oblivious. 
“I’m the only one with brain cells here, I swear,” Alex muttered with a grin, waggling his eyebrows at Luke, who did his best to throw a pillow at him, but ended up nailing Reggie smack in the nose. Reggie sputtered as Alex, Willie, and Julie cracked up. 
“Alex, need I remind you that-”
“That we need to decide what we’re going to do first!” Alex cut him off in the nick of time, barely escaping humiliation, though he felt a mild wave of curiosity from Willie’s pointed glance. 
“I have an idea,” Julie suggested. “There’s a game Flynn and I invented, called Truth or Challenge. It’s like Truth or Dare, but instead of dare, the option is challenge. How it works is, the person who prompted the question would say the person’s name, then something they should do, challenge. It could just be a callout, but if the other person wants to, they can say “bet” and try to do the thing. If they’re successful, they get a point.”
“Do... the thing?” Alex asked. 
“I’ll show you,” Julie said. “Say I wanted to call out Willie with a challenge. I’d do something like, “Willie stop skating illegally challenge,” and it could just be a callout, but he could also decide to say “bet” and take the challenge, and stop skating illegally.”
“Pass, bro,” Willie chuckled. Julie laughed as well.
“I figured as much. That’s the other thing: the challenge has to be something that is possible for the other person to do, but you get to choose how hard it is. So, you can be a hardass and give impossible challenges, making it impossible for your friends to earn points, but you then have to consider that they could easily do the same to you as payback.”
“Tricky,” Reggie remarked. Julie grinned. 
“Not if you know your competition.” 
Luke smirked. “Alright, boss,” he said confidently, “let’s play.” Alex nodded excitedly, some ideas brewing in his mind for some challenges for his simp of a best friend. And based on Willie’s excited agreement, Alex had a feeling he was also in the mood to stir up trouble. 
Alex caught Reggie’s eye, glanced at Julie and Luke (who were bright red and looking at each other), then looked back to Reggie with a wink. Reggie, being him, gave the most conspicuous nod and wink possible, to which Alex rolled his eyes. But Willie laughed, and if Alex felt his heart flutter at the sound, that was nobody’s business but his. 
“Julie, do you want to go first?” Willie asked. “Since, you know, you invented the game?”
“Sure. Reggie, truth or challenge?”
“Challenge,” Reggie decided happily, bouncing up and down. 
“Alright,” Julie said. “Reggie stop being the most purehearted person ever challenge.” 
“Awww, Julie!” Reggie beamed with the compliment. “You’re so nice.” Luke snorted. 
“Is she? Because that’s pretty much impossible for you to do, so she just lost you a point.” Julie had an evil grin spreading on her face. Reggie considered it for a moment. 
“Nah, I don’t care,” he decided, tackle-hugging her. Julie laughed, and it must’ve been contagious because soon, after a few more rounds (plus a particularly interesting shimmy to Britney Spears’ Toxic from Luke), everyone was rolling on the floor in hysterics. 
“Alright, my turn,” Alex decided confidently. “Julie, truth or challenge?”
“Hmm.” She thought for a moment before deciding, “challenge.” Alex’s grin spread.
“Julie admit you have a crush on Luke chal-”
“Oh, woULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, MY PHONE IS RINGING!” Julie said, picking up a very silent cell phone. “I’d better take this." She quickly ran off to the other side of the rom and talked animatedly to her (still silent) phone, eliciting hysterical laughter from Alex, along with Willie and Reggie. Luke, meanwhile, was doing his best to catch on fire from how much he was blushing. 
“FLYNN, how are you?” Julie asked. “I’m wonderful, thanks for asking, just playing a game with the guys.”
Subtle, she was not. 
Alex tuned out her horrible acting and turned to Luke.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk.
“Bro, are you kidding?” Luke asked. He wasn’t mad, though, he sounded... disappointed. “Now I know for sure she doesn’t like me,” he continued, to which Alex, Reggie, and Willie all scoffed. “For real!” Luke tore a hand through his hair and sighed. “It’s not a big deal.”
“But it is,” Willie interrupted, “because she’s totally into you. You guys are practically married and you don’t even know it.” Luke rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating up. 
“It’s true,” Alex agreed. “The quick distraction is, contrary to the belief of most guys who are into girls, not always a grab to get out of an awkward situation in which she doesn’t like the guy. Sometimes it is, but it’s not this time. This, if you read her right, can be clearly differentiated into her not wanting to admit her crush.”
“Alex, I love you, but you’re literally gay. You have never once had a crush on a girl.”
“Which is exactly how I know this,” Alex insisted. “I’m unbiased when it comes to flirting with girls, because I don’t.” 
“Well, thanks,” Luke said, still blushing but not as upset. “I don’t believe you, but thanks.” They waited for a moment more before Luke broke into a dopey grin and asked, “you really think so?” Everyone laughed and insisted that yes, Luke, she likes you, and you’re a dumbass.
“Okay, Luke, I never thought I would be the one to say this,” Reggie began, “but you’re so oblivious it makes Alex look perceptive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex asked indignantly at the same time Willie let out a laugh of agreement. “I’m the one who just decoded Julie’s ploy to a tea,” he reminded Reggie. Honestly, the nerve of him. 
Alex Mercer? Oblivious? That was a laugh and a half. 
Probably.
“Nah, bro, you’re oblivious as hell,” Luke agreed. “Maybe not with your own emotions, but...”
“Again, I just analyzed Julie’s response-”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Luke said, and Reggie waggled his eyebrows, not-so-discreetly fist-bumping Luke. 
“Hey, Julie,” Willie called. “I think it’s your turn.”
Alex might’ve been “oblivious,” according to his friends, but he definitely didn’t miss the way Willie seemed rushed when he called Julie. 
“We tried,” Reggie whispered to Luke.
“Oh, it is?” Julie asked. “Okay, bye Flynn!” Alex noted that the phone was, indeed, still blank.
“Okay, um, Willie! Truth or Challenge?”
“I’ll go with challenge,” Willie decided confidently, and Alex was so caught up in the gorgeous way he Willie had flipped his hair and bit his lip that he barely noticed Julie conferring quietly with Luke, evil grins on their faces. 
“Uh,” Willie prompted. “You guys good?”
“Oh, we’re great!” Reggie said with a bit too much excitement in his voice. Alex wished he had better hearing, because he could not for the life (or, you know, death) of him figure out what they were whispering about. 
“Alright,” Julie finally said, looking a bit too happy. 
“Brace yourself,” Alex advised.
“Willie finally kiss Alex challenge.” 
It was probably Alex who should’ve braced himself.
Alex never knew his thoughts could simultaneously be going a million miles per hour and halt altogether. But the main thing running through his head was the phrase “Willie kiss Alex.” And as much as he wanted to look Dignified, he was pretty much doomed to being bright red for the rest of his life, especially because all he could think of now was “hhhhhhh cute boy.” 
“Well, I’m never one to turn down a dare,” Willie said. “Alex, do you mind?” 
“I’m fine with it,” he squeaked, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. 
“You sure?” Willie asked, scratching the back of his neck. “Because you look kinda freaked.”
“It’s all good,” Alex promised, ignoring Julie eating popcorn out of the corner of his eye. 
“As long as you’re sure.” God, Willie was beautiful. And somehow, the tinge of red dusted across his cheeks and nose just made him that much more enchanting. 
And before Alex knew it, Willie was leaning closer, slowly but confidently. His hand reached up to Alex’s jaw, cupping his face gentler than should’ve been possible with his calloused hands. Their eyes met for a moment, a final reassurance, and he could’ve gotten lost in Willie’s warm, brown gaze. Alex felt the warmth of Willie’s forehead just a hairsbreadth away, and even that could’ve made him melt. But then, their lips met. 
It was barely a brush, a ghostlike kiss despite how very real he felt. But then, rather than backing away, their lips met for real, and Alex finally knew what book characters meant when they talked about sparks. Something in his heart clicked into place, a warm tingle running down his spine. It probably wasn’t a movie-worthy kiss, but that just made it that much sweeter. It was imperfect, like Alex (though he would’ve argued that Willie was pretty perfect). Willie’s lips were chapped but warm, and their foreheads bumped together a bit, which elicited a quiet giggle from Willie, making Alex smile into the kiss, and while it couldn’t have lasted longer than five seconds, when they finally pulled away, Alex was still breathless. 
Willie grinned, making Alex laugh again, still softly, and their foreheads met. It felt so right that when he heard Julie whoop and cheer and Luke give an encouraging whistle, combined with Reggie’s awwwing, it was a sharp blast back into reality. His cheeks did their best to catch fire, and Willie was visibly blushing as well, but for once, Alex didn’t care. 
Truth or Challenge was a pretty awesome game, if he did say so himself.
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kurinoot · 3 years
Text
[day 5] five creative songs | tsukishima kei
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-> you know how much tsukishima listens to music most of the time no matter where he goes, so you thought of a way on how to confess your (hidden) feelings for him on valentines day, but will everything turned out as you thought it would be?
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pairing: tsukishima x reader
themes: slight angst, takes place when you guys are second (or even third) years, mostly flirting playful banter, cliffhanger (?), too much salt, I guess 
wc: 1.5k
note: this one is kind of shorter compared to the previous valentines’ fic but please do anticipate the white day fic continuation of this one! please do tell me if you enjoyed this one, or if you have any criticisms or anything!
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That’s it.
You’re not gonna make another Spotify stuff or whatever they call it again.
You never knew how hard it is to find song titles that matched your message to your liking without cringing until you planned and went to do it yourself.
“Finally!”, you grumbled as you found the last song for the playlist that you have set up for your crush on Valentines’ Day. You scratch your head in doubt, because you know for a fact that your crush is a salty bean, and even though you have the mental capacity to go head-to-head in a trash talk with him, the emotional wreck—you—says otherwise. For sure, he will most likely outright reject you, or something much worse like insulting your taste of music.
Even worse...
You have a crush on Kei Tsukishima.
You wondered yourself, of all the people you could’ve possibly have crushed on, it was that one cute salty beanpole that you chose. But on the plus side, you somehow developed a friendship with his freckled friend, who is kind of stuck in your situation, now helping you; which makes you wonder why is the softest boy in (probably) in the entirety of Karasuno High hanging out with the saltiest—even saltier than the ocean—beanpole.
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“I think Tsukki will like that, just mind his words.”, Yamaguchi reassures you as he looks at the songs you have compiled for his best friend. He scrolls through the playlists, only to see a cohesive message forming from the titles of the songs. You immediately hear him giggle at the roster, which did not help your situation.
“Tadashi! You’re not helping!”, you pout at Yamaguchi’s response, who only then gave you a teasing giggle as you mentally breakdown.
“Sorry, Y/N.” He once again looked through your playlist, listening to one of the songs. “I may not be Tsukki, but I know he’ll probably like it.” He bobs his head to the rhythm of the music before you snorted at his response.
“Probably, my ass.”, you mutter to yourself as your hands rubbed your stressed temple while the both of you walked to the cafeteria.
Lunch break arrives as Yamaguchi went off to find the tall blonde as you went to the vending machine to buy milk. You look for your friend who, as usual, sits along with the salty french fry, as you call him. You hastily join their table with your bento in hand. Tsukishima notices your presence as you see him scowl as you pull a vacant chair to sit.
“Oh? Look what the cat dragged in, it’s you.” Tsukishima snarkily remarked, emphasizing on you with his eyes still focused on his food before glaring at you, giving you a snarky smirk. “I don’t even recall letting you in our little friend group, just because Yamaguchi’s your only friend.”
You looked at Yamaguchi for support in response to Tsukishima, “Am I not invited, Ta-da-shi~?”, you gave your saddest, cutest puppy eyes to Yamaguchi who could only look back and forth consecutively between the two of you before giving Tsukishima an apologetic look.
“Hah! 2 vs. 1, majority wins, Tsukki-poo.”, you snickered, sticking your tongue out as you sat down on the chair next to Yamaguchi. Tsukishima repeatedly tsk’ed in annoyance, looking at Tadashi.
“I don’t like that you’re close to this sham of a nigersaurus, Yamaguchi.”, Tsukishima nonchalantly blurts out as he notices your scowling face before snickering, arrogantly raising a brow.  ”Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you were there.”
You could only raise an eyebrow at him, “Watch it, Tsk-ishima, you’re spitting too much salt, it might get to my food.” Tsukishima’s eye twitched irritatedly as he looked over you. “I don’t want my onigiri tasting like trash.” You ate your onigiri as you stared deadpan at Tsukishima, scoffing as he scowled at you.
Yamaguchi could only do so much to stop your senseless trash talking as he just laughed at your usual banter, resuming eating his lunch.
“Now now, settle down you two… I’m sure Tsukki doesn’t mean that way, Y/N. Right, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi says as he looked at Tsukishima for affirmation, scoffing as the blocker looked away annoyedly, as you did also.
To his surprise, the both of you decided to just eat your heart out instead of grabbing everyone’s attention, as the tension at your table was suffocating that even the other passersby were taking notice of the awkwardness between you and Tsukishima as you both resumed eating.
“You know what, let me just powder my nose. There’s some salt all over my face, and it’s irritating me.”, you say as you abruptly stand and give Tsukishima a mocking face to which he snickers in reply.
“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow your phone again?” Yamaguchi asks, giving him the thumbs up before leaving for the comfort room. He takes your phone from your bag as he scrolls down to the playlist that you created, searching for a specific song. Tsukishima, surprised at the closeness between you and Yamaguchi and curious at the contents of your phone, intrigues him as he leaned towards the budding pinch server, who was too occupied with checking your playlist. He then grabs your phone out of his best friend’s hands, much to Yamaguchi’s shock. Tsukishima’s face contorted disgustingly as he saw his name on the playlist.
“Tsukki! I-”
“Why is my name in here?”, Tsukishima asked with a bitter tone in his voice as he looked through your ‘Valentines’ playlist and his name in one sentence. Yamaguchi panickingly tried to take back your phone, but without success.
“Tsukki! Give her phone back! Please!”, he desperately reaches out for your phone as Tsukishima dodges his hands. Yamaguchi wished to be tall for once as he cursed internally for being clumsy that he shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have scrolled through your phone to look for that 5 Seconds of Summer song.
Tsukishima scrolled through the playlist, feeling even more disgusted at the thought of your cheesy antics. Much to his displeasure, his cheeks started to heat up,  which would’ve been obvious if it weren’t for the sunlight peeking through the classroom windows.
“Hey! W-Why do you have my phone?!”, you stutter as you made your presence known to the two. You could only see Yamaguchi a bit shaken, covering his mouth in shock as he could only watch everything unravel before his eyes.
Tsukishima breaks the ice, teasing you to cover up his embarrassed state, “I knew you have bad taste in music, but I never knew it would be THIS bad. And what’s with this cheesy antic?”
“It’s the message in the titles that count — that’s not the point!”, you could only grumble and stutter in reply, with your cheeks going on full red in both anger and embarrassment.
“You should have your ears checked next time if you’re listening to these.”, Tsukishima laughs as he shoves back your phone to you before he starts walking away.
Your teeth seethed in anger as your hands tightened on your phone, trying to grasp what remains of your dignity. “I-If you think your taste in music is better, why don't you show me yours, huh?!”
With a snap, Tsukishima halted and turned to look at you, bitterly irritated before his facade quickly changed to the most irritating mocking smile you’ve ever seen.
“What’s that?” He asks, calmly.
“I didn’t quite catch what you said over your whimpering, Y/N.” His tone was venomous, particularly at the mention of your name. You never saw him this pissed, let alone, him saying your name in a rather hostile tone. He hastily approached you and with each step, your heart pounded faster against your chest. Your brain is shouting at you to run away, but your body can't; you feel your sweat run cold as Tsukishima approaches you. In an instant, he forcibly grabs your arm and slams you to the wall.
“Hey! What was that for—”, your sentence was cut short as his long arms locked you to the wall as he closed the distance between the two of you. The closeness made your heart race faster as your blood rose in each minute to your cheeks, his breath tingling against your skin.
You see the shift of his face to a smirk, his hand on your chin forcibly making you look at him, directly at his amber eyes. “So, you actually like me, eh?” He suddenly drew closer to your ear.
“Y/N?”
You compelled yourself to not whimper at the moment, looking away from him as he narrowly stares at you for a while before he lets you go and goes out of the classroom like nothing happened. Your legs were threatening to fall weakly to the floor, staring into nothingness as Yamaguchi, who usually follows Tsukishima afterwards, was now trying to knock some sense back into you.
“Y/N! Y/N!”, you hear Tadashi shaking you gently.
Your heart could only beat in a combination of embarrassment and anxiety, and the butterflies in your stomach weren’t helping either as the background noise in your ears disappeared. Even if Yamaguchi was at your side, calming you down, you still felt Tsukishima’s lingering presence as you caressed your cheek, feeling the heat from earlier; your teeth seething in anger.
“Damn you Tsukishima!”
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