#everything will happen exactly as it should

[synthetickitsune]

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #joshua scenario #svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #joshua angst #svt angst #svt x reader

[021894s]

— 02 the invite [1.5k]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf!sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: mentions of heartbreak, mentions of throwing up, cussing

AUTHORS NOTE: babies!! this is my first ever written piece!! it’s not perfect but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless. i’m excited for this storyline to begin to unfold. love you, thank you for reading <3

Sunlight streams through the curtains, and your eyes snap open. Panic sets in as you realize you're not in your own bed. Scrambling to check the time, the memory of last night's chaos comes flooding back – Jungwon, in a lot worse condition thanks to Jake's encouragement, making it so you had to play caretaker after the countless shots and rounds of beer pong.

You leap out of bed, heart racing. Class starts in twenty minutes, and your professor isn't known for leniency. Grabbing your things and getting dressed in some clothes you had left behind, you rush downstairs, only to nearly collide with Sunghoon, who's looking unfairly good with his tousled hair and that deep, just-woke-up voice.

"What’s the rush?" he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You're momentarily distracted by his disheveled charm, but the urgency of the moment snaps you back to reality. "I'm late for class," you blurt out, then remember Jungwon, still knocked out in the guest room. "Can you keep an eye on Jungwon? He had a rough night."

Sunghoon nods, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sure thing. you should go before you’re even more late."

Grateful, you offer him a quick smile, glancing around only to see niki and sunoo slumped on the living room couch. you turn back to sunghoon ,giving him a knowing look and bolt out the door, hoping you can make it in time.

You rush through the crowded hallways of your university, heart pounding in your chest. The sound of your footsteps echoes, matching the frantic beat of your thoughts. As you finally reach your classroom, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing open the door.The professor pauses mid-lecture, giving you a stern look. "Late again, Y/N?"

You offer a sheepish smile, quickly finding an empty seat. "Sorry, sir. it won't happen again."

as if your morning couldn’t have gotten worse you feel your phone buzz with a new message. Glancing down, you see it's a forwarded email – a formal wedding invitation from your ex. Your heart skips a beat as you read the elegant script, announcing their upcoming marriage. It's a surreal moment, one that brings a mix of emotions swirling through you.

You're not sure how to react. Part of you is happy for them, genuinely wishing them the best, but there's also that tiny, complicated twinge of... something. It's not exactly sadness, not exactly jealousy, just a poignant reminder of the past.

Leaning back in your chair, you can't help but let your mind wander to Jeno. he was your first everything. Your first love, your first heartbreak, the first person who made you feel like you were truly alive. You remember the way he used to hold your hand, the way he smiled just before he kissed you, and the way he made you laugh until your sides hurt.

Heeseung had always been wary of Jeno. He'd seen the signs, warned you about his antics, and tried to protect you like he always has, naturally, being your older brother, but you don't regret a single moment. Despite the warnings, you plunged headfirst into the relationship. You got to experience love—the highs, the lows, and everything in between.

Even now, with the wedding invitation in hand, you can't bring yourself to feel bitter. Heeseung might give you that 'I told you so' look, but you'll just shrug it off, because to you, love, even when it ends, is something to cherish. It taught you, shaped you, and you wouldn't trade those memories for anything.

Class finally ends, and you make your way back to your brother's house. Opening the door, you find everyone except jay, saerom and jake in the living room, engaged in a random conversations about the previous night.

As you step into the living room, the change in your expression doesn't go unnoticed by Heeseung, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's up?" he asks, his voice tinged with brotherly caution.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of your phone in your pocket. Sighing, you pull it out and hand it to him. "It's Jeno's wedding invite," you admit, watching his eyes scan over the elegant script, capturing the attention of your friends in the room. Heeseung's protective instincts kick in immediately. "You're not thinking of going, are you?" He hands back your phone, his gaze steady on yours.

You meet his look with a resolve that surprises even you. "I think I need to," you say firmly. "For closure." Heeseung doesn't look convinced, but he knows better than to argue when your mind is made up. "Just... be careful, okay?" he says, and you can tell he's trying to understand. You nod, grateful for his concern but knowing this is something you have to do for yourself.

Niki, always the joker, jumps into the conversation, trying to lighten the mood. . "I never liked Jeno anyway, you were too pretty for him, and he’s the clumsiest person to literally ever exist”. You can't help but laugh at Niki's attempt to make you smile. "Thanks, Niki," you say, playfully rolling your eyes. "But let's not get too carried away with the ego boost, okay?"

you glance over at jungwon, who clearly has not made a full recovery and is still very much regretting letting jake feed him shot after shot. it’s then you realize that you have no idea about saeroms whereabouts. that probably makes you the worst best friend known to man but in your defense, you had a pretty hectic morning. iyou catch sight of her walking out of jake’s room. confusion spreads across your face. why would she be in his room?

looking a little disheveled, she freezes as she notices everyone's eyes on her. The not-so-secret secret is out, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Guys, it's not what it looks like," Saerom stammers, but the knowing smiles and snickers from heeseung and sunghoon tell a different story.

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "you and jake? when did that happen?” Saerom bites her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Okay, okay, maybe it's a little bit like what it looks like, and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i was afraid you’d be upset since yknow jake is heeseung’s friend and all" she admits. “trust me im more worried about you catching something from jake than him being my brothers friend” you tell her.

heeseung smiles, “trust me jake’s ONLY been sleeping with her”. you snap your head, giving her an offended look, “my BROTHER knew about this before me? ok now im hurt”. Sunghoon laughs, “it was kind of hard not to find out when they both clearly have a thing for exhibitionism”.

“ ok i think im gonna throw up now” jungwon says causing everyone to let out a laugh”.

niki gasps, “SO THIS is why you’ve been wanting to come to every ksana party??? i knew you were still a boring bitch”. “ok who invited him” saerom rolls her eyes. the sudden commotion in the room wakes sunoo, who had still be deep asleep on the couch next to niki. “what’s going on” he says in a groggy tone. “you don’t wanna know” sunghoon tells him.

you turn to him. Once again admiring his look, now put together as opposed to his disheveled state you encountered when you ran into him this morning. you made a mental note to thank him later for keeping an eye out for jungwon.

You can't help but feel grateful for your friends, even in the midst of reminiscing about your past. With their humor and love, you know you'll be able to face whatever comes your way.

later on back at your place, you catch Saerom up to speed on all the details. “that dick invited you his wedding???, what the fuck is his problem” saerom states with a tone of disgust. “i found it odd too but I think it’s what I need in order to finally close that chapter in my life” you say, assuring her.

“you now what this means right?” she presses. “no?” you ask, a bit confused as to what she has up her sleeve. “you need a date!” “yeah no” you quickly reply. “come on babes you can’t show up alone. you need to show him that you’ve moved on too and don’t care that he wasn’t the one for you”. you ponder her idea. it wouldn’t be so bad. it’d save you from the internal embarrassment of showing up to your ex’s wedding all alone, looking like some pathetic loser who came to drown in her sorrows at the sight of her first love being wedded away to a different woman. after more careful consideration, you reluctantly agree. saerom claps her hands in excitement. “where in the world am i going to find someone that’ll agree to being my date within 2 weeks?” you weren’t exactly the popular type around campus, despite being heeseungs little sister.

“i can ask jake, maybe he’ll know someone?” saerom suggests. you’re hesitant and take a moment to really think about your plan here. “we need to find someone you can be comfortable with. you’ll need to hold hands and do couple shit to make it beliveable”. Saerom tells you, a little to excited about the whole ordeal. you swallow, oh boy are you in for a ride.

taglist: @cornenhapovs @myjaeyuns @magssu @leeknowsgfsblog @luminouskalopsia @jentlecoeur @heeslut4life @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @jaeyungxrl @rapmonie2047 @anormieee @nishislcve @leesura @en-happiness @kimsunoops @heelariously @rikiwaify-blog @ihrtgyuuu @purennn @hoonharem @g0niki @hearts4itoshi @yongbokified @shuichi-sama @xiaoderrrr @hongshuaknow @skylaly @yzzyhee @jwnghyuns @heelovesmeknot @kookify

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen texts #enhypen smau #fake texts #park sunghoon #enhypen imagines #kpop smau #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #sunghoon smau #sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen jungwon #jake sim #park jongseong #kim sunoo #lee heeseung #enhypen social media au #social media au #kpop fake texts #kpop #kpop fanfic #engene

[dalliancekay]

We've been talking for millions of years

Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think. When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious. So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.

And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan. And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.

I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it. After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.

Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart. After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet. But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.

Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into. He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.

Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.

When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.

Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.

Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.

He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be. He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk. Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.

He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty? Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK! Well. No better way to find out. He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.

Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.” A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.

Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened. What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them. If only he had someone to talk to.

Another angel? What. A snake? Oh. Oh. They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!! A lead balloon?!? “Sorry what was that?” Does he remember me? I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.

I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #before the beginning #garden of eden #good omens eden #kaypost

[vikkirosko]

Hi hope you’re doing well!

How do you think Alastor, Husk, and Angel would be with a S/O who struggles to perform basic tasks/ get out of bed because of PTSD/ depression?

Headcanons Severe emotional state

🕷 Angel Dust x Reader 💖

Angel knew that there were a lot of bad things in your life. Even after death, when you were in Hell, you did not forget what happened to you and it left a mark on you. You had PTSD, which made life difficult for you, but Angel was there and tried to help you at least a little, as much as he could help you at all

He was the one who insisted that you should move to a hotel. He only offered it to you after he moved there himself. Angel knew that you were having difficulty doing your daily chores, so he felt calmer when he knew that not only he was with you, but also other people who were ready to help and support you

Angel often came to you at night. He knew you were having serious trouble sleeping, so he was looking out for you. You could stay awake for a long time, you could have nightmares, and in the morning it often happened that it was difficult for you to even get out of bed. Angel was there to at least help you with your nightmares. He didn't want you to feel bad alone when you wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night

Angel understood that it was so easy for you to forget about what happened to you, so he tried to be there for you and support you. You didn't tell him exactly what happened to you, but Angel knew that when you were ready, you would tell him everything. He wasn't going to force you to tell him things that were hard for you to remember. In the meantime, he was just there for you and supported you as best he could

📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙

Alastor understood that you had problems from the first day you met. It was hard for you to do even the usual daily tasks. Sometimes you didn't even have the strength to get out of bed. The reason for this was depression, which has been with you for several years now

Every time Alastor broke into your day when you couldn't find the strength. He found ways to influence you, even though he couldn't get you out of depression. That's why he told Charlie about your condition, who took it very seriously and tried her best to help you. You knew you weren't hiding your condition, but you guessed who really told her everything

Alastor knew that at some point your condition could worsen even more, so he was there. When you had nightmares, he was there for you. He wasn't someone who could really help you with nightmares, but you felt safer when you knew that he wasn't hiding in the shadows, but was really next to you and you could rely on him

There were a lot of bad things in your life and Alastor wasn't the perfect person to be around, but he stayed close. He was the stability that he had from his life and you were glad that he was. You could have been much worse off without him. Some people didn't understand why you were so attached to Alastor, but next to him you really had more reasons to feel alive

🃏 Husk x Reader 🥃

You and Husk have known each other for a long time. He saw you in the most difficult moments of your life and tried to be there for you. It was very hard for you before you died. You've been through a lot of terrible things and now, in Hell, you had PTSD. Husk knew how hard it could be for you, so he tried to make sure that your condition did not worsen

You often sat with him at the bar, but Husk never gave you alcohol. He didn't want you to try to numb your pain with addiction, knowing that it would only make it worse. That's why he tried to find other ways for you to deal with difficult memories

Every morning he came to your room and checked that you were up. He knew that it was hard for you to get up in the morning, so he came to you and made sure that you would not spend the whole day in bed because you did not have the strength to get out of bed. Over the years that you were together, he learned exactly what to do in such situations

Husk didn't know if it was possible to completely cope with your PTSD, but he stayed by your side and helped you live as normal a life as possible. He was there for you and was ready to help you at least try to cope with the nightmares that have been haunting you so far

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader #Husk #Husk x Reader #Alastor #Alastor x Reader

[furuyalover]

Hey bae! Can I request the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra, with any of the Haikyuu boys for your music event? - 🫧

somethin’ stupid | mars & her music event

"and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'i love you'"

— ft. iwaizumi hajime

AN: tysm for ur request! this was so much fun to write & ty for joining my event! for any readers int in participating, more info ab it here ! also this is on the longer side so cozy up, & get ready for some iwa fluff

"i know i stand in line, until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me..."

you were at a semi-formal event put on by your school, aoba johsai. despite the amount of people there, the ballroom in which the ball took place had a tranquil atmosphere. seeing your classmates in an elegant manner, looking at some of them and thinking oh wow they clean up nice, it was a rather lovely change of pace. however, only one student in particular really caught your eye. that student, of course, was the one and only, iwaizumi hajime.

he looked radiant. you've really never seen him in anything outside of his school and volleyball uniforms, so he was really a sight for sore eyes. the suit he wore was well-tailored, but you could still make out the defined muscles on his biceps. he was so elegant and well mannered in this setting, and it certainly helped that his best friend sitting next to him was being as obnoxious as usual, making iwaizumi's polished manner even more apparent,

hajime also had his eyes set on someone, you. he only ever sees you at school, in your required uniforms, so he was stricken with adornment when he saw you tonight. he had always admired you, had even a secret crush on you, (which of course was obvious to the whole volleyball team based off how much he mentions you) seeing you dressed so lovely, and looking even more beautiful than usual, how could he not gaze at you like that? but when he saw you being approached by other students, telling you how gorgeous you looked, his insecurities got the best of him. why should i even try? they already have all these other guys romancing them, i wouldn't even stand a chance, he would mumble to himself. oh how little the boy knows..

"i practice everyday to find some clever lines to make the meaning come through. but then i think i'll wait til the evening gets late, and i'm alone with you..."

after talking it over with his best friend who sat beside him, tooru oikawa, he decided to just say screw it and muster up enough courage to talk to you. he & oikawa practiced exactly what he's going to say to you, since tonight will be the night he finally confesses to you. after ensuring that his words will be perfect, he gathers all his confidence to get up, and begin walking to where you're standing & talking to a few classmates.

"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue"

he slowly makes his way over to you, being sure that you aren't talking to anyone by the time he approaches you. everything is gonna go perfectly, he'll have the perfect moment to tell what he's been feeling all these months.

after finishing some conversations with friends, out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face walking towards you. is iwaizumi really coming over here? oh my god this is really happening, shit i hope i look okay. you frantically pat down your hair and clothes, to make sure you hopefully look perfect by the time iwa sees you. when he finally gets to you, you notice something about him is different. he seems more reserved than usual, almost seemingly shy?

"iwaizumi! i didn't know if you were gonna make it today, great to see you!" you say smiling like an idiot. "please, call me hajime. great to see you too, you look stunning." flustered by his affection, you look down smiling to hide your beet red face. hajime is hit with relief because now you hopefully won't see how red he is himself. "hey don't wanna sound weird or anything, but would you wanna step outside with me for a sec? there's something i need to get off my chest." your eyes widened, nervous at what he could possibly have to say. but regardless you nod in agreement as he takes you outside.

the two of you gaze out to the sky, on the balcony just outside the venue of the formal, in partially comfortable partially awkward silence. "so, um, what was it you wanted to say?" you nervously ask to try and break the ever so loud silence. fuck. iwaizumi thought. all his practice with oikawa? yea, that all went out the window because suddenly his mind is going a million miles per minute. he has so many thoughts running through his head, but he just can't seem to find the words, nor the confidence, to voice them. but before you know, the stern and intimidating volleyball player you're used to turns into a rambling mess.

"and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, 'i love you'..."

"i don't really know how to say this, but fuck it i'll just try" he starts. you take a step back to look at him, a little confused, but waiting to hear the rest. "y/n, i really like, maybe even love you. i don't know, i'm bad with feelings, but i do know that you're all i think about. i never shut up about you, and i think you're the most perfect person put on this earth. i know i'm not oikawa, and that you probably have tons of other guys who want you and i probably sound stupid but i jus-" he stops suddenly when realized that you've wrapped your arms around him and engulfed him in a hug. after hesitantly wrapping his muscular arms around you, he relaxes a bit more, and eases into your touch.

with the side of your face resting on his chest, you look up at him beaming. both of you blushing profusely, but neither of you pay any attention to that. after a moment of just staring at each other, you finally say with a smile "you are kinda stupid hajime, i like you too, maybe even love also. i don't know how you haven't picked up on that yet" this just makes iwaizumi pull you in tighter, it feels like all his dreams had just came true.

"oh my god he finally did it" "god it's about time" oikawa and hanamaki groan to each other. yes they watched this whole thing go down for a comfortable distance, partially to make fun of him but also just to support their close friend from afar

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

#holy moly i am so in love w iwa #him & this song? yes. #mars & her music! #game time! #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu x you #hq x you #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hcs #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi fluff #hajime iwaizumi headcanons #haikyuu event #haikyuu #team manager 🫧!

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x player #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x you #meta fanfic #knock knock

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 18

The last one!

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Clockwork leaned against one of the cool stone walls of his lair, eyes closed.  The months he had spent away amounted to little more than a blink in an unimaginably long life, and yet he was happy to be back.  

And happier still that Daniel was back with him.  

Oh, he would have been glad enough to have him safe in the Far Frozen or Pandora’s kingdom, that was true.  Frostbite and Pandora were easily and obviously the best of the applicants.  Jasmine wouldn’t have been a terrible choice, either.  

Still.  What he had wanted most of all, but had barely dared to hope for, was for Daniel to choose him.  

It was selfish, perhaps.  Clockwork had limitations, restrictions, that Frostbite and Pandora did not.  He was still beholden to the Observants, and he had duties to the timeline apart from that.  Daniel might certainly have a more peaceful life away from Clockwork.  

But he might have a more tumultuous one as well.  Clockwork had seen many paths, waiting for Daniel to return from his visits, many ways that time could unfold.  He had not been able to, and still could not, pick the one that was most likely.  There were timelines where Daniel returned to Amity Park, timelines where he spent his days in idyllic, peaceful Realms, timelines where he accompanied his new guardian or guardians to war, timelines where he grew up and moved away, timelines where he remained childlike forever, timelines where he fell into corruption and evil, timelines where he rose up, becoming even greater than he was now.  

There were too many variables for even Clockwork to begin to sort them out.  Anything could have happened.  

Including this.  

Clockwork let himself smile.  Neat braids of timelines spiraled out from this moment, all of them golden bright in the near future, even if some of them tarnished in the more distant future.  

Clockwork could avoid those.  He was sure of that.  

There was much to do before then.  Lessons needed to be arranged.  Jasmine, while far too zealous, hadn’t entirely been wrong about that.  And Clockwork should contact her sooner rather than later.  She was a good sister for Daniel, even if she wouldn’t have been a good parent.  Daniel’s things from the temporary house would need to be brought over.  Arrangements regarding Amity Park should also be made.  Daniel might not remember the place at all, outside of stories he’d heard from Vlad, Frostbite, and the like, but his normal affection for it was great.  And, on the subject of memory, Clockwork ought to look into ways to compel the Observants to return Daniel’s memories, or even call upon the doctors of the Far Frozen–

A soft sound stirred Clockwork from his musing, and he opened his eyes.  He had prepared a room for Daniel, against this very scenario, and his preparation had paid off.  Half hidden by gauzy curtains, Daniel laid in the large bed under star-patterned sheets and blankets, exhausted by the emotions and exertions of the day.  

Although, he wasn’t entirely under the blankets.  He had rolled over in his sleep and knocked his sheets askew.  

Clockwork flew forward, brushing the curtains aside, and tucked Daniel in.  He took a moment to pull some of Daniel’s hair out of his face as well.  It was getting long.  Perhaps they should think about braiding it.  

But doubtless Daniel would tease him if he knew that Clockwork was watching him so closely in his sleep, and rightly so.  As he had been thinking only moments before, he had much to do, and he had no desire to disturb Daniel’s rest.  Regretfully, Clockwork flew back, towards the door.  So many things to get ready…

He paused, though, before closing the door, watching Daniel sleep for a moment longer.  Watching his son.  

He smiled, a little more broadly than was his usual habit.  Everything was exactly how it should be.  

He closed the door, and, for the moment, left Daniel to his dreams.

He hoped they were good ones.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

[zayne-li]

Cross posted on AO3, may be edited in the future, it was written very shortly after the game actually came out.

Explicit, MDNI.

Zayne gets injured, MC saves him, and Zayne has very normal feelings about it.

Feelings like: femdom, etc.

"Zayne! Zayne! Can you hear me? Come on, get up, you have to get up, we need to go now!"

The world is fuzzy at the edges, and there's a tinny sort of ringing in his ears, but he hears his hunters voice. She's upset. Why?

Arms stronger than they should be tug at the lapels of his white doctors coat, dragging him up off the concrete, and he blinks hard several times. His head is swimming. 

Zayne groans, deep and low as his awareness slowly returns, able to blearily look around and recall that right, yes, we were at my favorite sweets shop... And then...

"I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now." That's her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There's blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all. 

It occurs to him that it's concerning he can't recall what exactly has happened. Was it Wanderers? Some sort of accident? A weak cough escapes him as his shoes scrape across the loose pebbles on the road. 

Everything hurts. Like one giant bruise all over his body. But he is slowly regaining his senses. He does have at least that.

All around them is destruction: rubble and dust and shouts for loved ones piercing through the fog. The air smells and tastes metallic as his hunter helps him up onto shaky feet, hoisting one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapping the other around his middle.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to Akso now."

Her pupils are blown, and eyes wild. It's a look he hasn't seen on her before. Despite the pain and danger they are in, there is something about her in this very moment(maybe the blood, the adrenaline, this demeanor he's never seen before) that makes his gut clench.

Ought to dissect that later, he thinks. Then again, perhaps not.

"Akso?" His voice is rough, throat sticky with dust.

"Yes, you broke at least two of your ribs in that explosion, you need medical care, do you understand?" 

His eyes drop down to hers, and he realizes just how much they are touching in this moment. All the way from their feet to her head, becoming a long line of heat down the right side of his body.

What timing, Doctor Li.

"I understand." He confirms to her, and plants his gaze firmly ahead of them, forcing his attention onto the task at hand rather than the way that look in her eyes makes him feel.

--

Weeks later he is still recalling that day, though who can blame him, confined to bed rest as he is? Three broken ribs and a full month of leave from the hospital, it's difficult to find ways to entertain himself. 

Zayne closes his eyes and he sees her covered in sweat, that single minded determination carving deep lines into her face. If she'd had to, she would have dragged his limp body to the doors of the hospital. It was a look that told him, "I'm not losing you too. Not today." It was that look that had given him the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

It aroused him deep in his gut, somewhere he hadn't even known existed. 

It was disturbing, in more ways than one. 

He'd begun to have dreams. 

Dreams of her coming home to his apartment, the door closing with more force than necessary, her dirty boots crossing through the kitchen with purpose. And when she found that purpose, she would have that same look on her face. In some of the dreams she'd still have blood on her face, and she'd lick the droplets away, just as she did while she labored to save his life that day. 

She would grab him by the knot of his tie, stifling his surprise with a bruising kiss, plundering his mouth like a woman starved, using her unexpected strength to push him back against the wall, to cover him with her smaller frame. He would moan into her throat and her lips would curve into a smile against his. 

One night, he wakes around four in the morning after dreaming of his hunters battle lust and he finds himself in an uncomfortable, sticky mess.

Zayne knows he loves her. He has since he was a boy, that has never changed, but through the years, his crush has waxed and waned, but remained fundamentally childlike. It hasn't been until they reconnected this past year that he'd even begun to let his thoughts drift to more unsavory places. And now... Well he determines that this new... Discovery of his remain well and firmly hidden. 

Her presence in his life is too precious to waste with his depraved imagination. 

After all, while he's been bored and cooped up in his apartment, with strict instructions from every person in his life to "Sit and rest, for once!" She has been visiting him almost daily. Usually not for long, as her own work keeps her extraordinarily busy(he supposes he's never noticed just how hard and much she works before, because he himself is often entrenched in his own), but always with an easy smile and some sort of treat for him. Chocolate, or cookies, one afternoon a little fruit tart from a vendor she passed on her way to see him.

Most of the time, it is no challenge for him to recognize that her friendship is far, far too valuable to risk losing. 

Today, she knocks on his door, and when he opens it, he almost forgets. 

She's a mess. 

There's a fairly large, but shallow cut across most of her face, from her cheek down to her chin, her hair is pulled up haphazardly, the leather glove she normally wears is missing, and her clothes, though neat, have small tears across one of her knees, and her shoulder. 

Zayne swallows before he greets her. 

"Difficult day?" 

She exhales a chuckle. "Just a long one, sorry. I was going to go home to clean up, but by then it would have been pretty late, and I was already nearby when I finished, so I thought I'd just uh... Drop in." 

She's sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, and Zayne forces himself to look away, making eye contact with the corner of the wall instead. There's a chip in the paint. 

"Really, you needn't trouble yourself on my behalf, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You require rest as well as I." 

What would it feel like, right now, to have her press up against him? Warm. Solid, he thinks. Would she grab him by his jaw? Turn his face this way and that? 

He imagines how she would taste. Salty and metallic, he thinks, especially now. His hunter, shoving him onto his back in his bed, she would be impatient, barely taking the time to undo their pants before sheathing herself on his cock, using her palms on his chest for leverage to fuck herself as she pleased. 

"Yeah, well then we might as well rest together, huh?"

She pulls him from his depraved thoughts.

Zayne realizes that the heat between his legs, if not controlled soon, will become a much larger problem(no pun intended).

"You have quite the knack for turning phrases, you know." His tone stays even, and he turns away, inviting her inside without another word, his excuse being the television in his living room that needs muting. 

"And you never have this much time off. It's kinda fun, really." 

He hears the click of the door shutting, and the turn of the lock. 

"I brought you something, too."

Thud on the kitchen counter. Whatever it is, it sounds hefty. While he pretends to look for his remote, he adjusts himself in his pants, burning with shame for this predicament. 

"What is it this time?" 

"Brownies! Salted caramel flavored. They're my favorite."

She appears quite suddenly in the corner of his vision, and he jumps, feeling his face grow hot. 

"Thoughtful as always." He smiles, and hits the mute button on another story of wanderer attacks. 

His hunter frowns, leaning her body around to get a good look at him. 

"Something's wrong. What's wrong?" Her tone leaves no room for arguments, and Zayne's eyes go a bit wide just for a moment. 

"What makes you think anything is wrong? Other than my broken ribs?" He doesn't realize it, but he imitates her in the way he tilts his head. The mirth in her eyes makes his chest ache. 

"You're blushing, Doctor Zayne." Her tongue pokes out from between her teeth with her smile. 

"Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever." He counters. 

She squints, but moves away, rolling not just her eyes, but her whole head. "Oooh-kay. Then perhaps I should leave, huh? Keep you from spreading your virus all over Linkon?" 

His mouth opens, but he has no immediate response. 

"Uh-huh." She oozes with smugness. 

God he wants her. Whether in his dreams, or right now, either will do. He's wanted her for so long. And now she's so close. Zayne feels his entire chest go tight with longing. He wants everything with her. For her. 

He wants her to be with him always. If he could put a tiny little hunter in his pocket and keep her there he would, just so he could pull her out when he likes to soothe the ache in his soul that she both creates and fills in equal measure.

He wants her just like this, messy and stinking of rain and sweat and blood, he wants her sweetness, her humor, her easy charisma.

And God he wants her to claim him. He wants the battle lust, her fingernails deep in his scalp, the stinging on his back. He wants her to take whatever she likes from him, his body, his soul, his everything. 

"I wasn't blushing. You are mistaken." Somehow he keeps his voice even and calm, though inside he fights to keep from pouncing on her. 

Down, boy.

Recognition flashes across her face. 

And then a flurry of emotions he has trouble naming. Confusion, shock, and something else he can't define, but it reminds him of the day they were in that explosion, and she became someone he didn't know. 

His hunter steps forward, further into his space, and on instinct, Zayne steps back, his swallow loud in the quiet apartment. 

She must see something on his face. Fear, he thinks. And her expression of bewilderment changes as her gaze flickers rapidly across his features, first his eyes, his mouth, the bob in his throat, the fist clenched at his side, and then back to his mouth.

Her movements are slow as she takes another step forward, as if she's afraid to spook him, like one would a wild animal. She grabs the front of his shirt, and he swallows back a whine. 

His hunter sees this too.

"Why haven't you said anything?" 

"You frighten me sometimes."

Do I, Doctor Zayne?" Her eyes are dark, and she pulls him down to her, tilting her head just so, and holds him a hairsbreadth away from her lips.

He can taste her breath. It makes his knees weak. God, if you are there, don't wake me from this dream.

#lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you

[el-riegan]

Little ideas I had but I feel like Atsushi should have cuddle sessions with everyone from the Agency. Sometimes with everyone, others with a few or just one person.

With Kyoka, when he feels down and can't seem to get out of the closet, she just comes in and cuddles up to him, a silent presence so he knows he's not alone in a cage anymore.

With Kenji, after having completed a mission where they both got injured and ended up in the infirmary. Kenji sliding up to Atsushi to take a well-earned nap just because the weretiger is really warm and confortable to sleep against.

With Naomi and Junichiro, Naomi is usually the one starting a cuddle pile by jumping on her brother and if it just so happen that Atsushi was next to him? Well, they do love making sure their resident tiger gets as much love as needed.

With Ranpo, it's a bit different, he's not exactly into going up to someone and cuddling. But once in a while, he will pat Atsushi's head after a good job or mess with his hair.

With Yosano, she will scratch his hair or offer a quick but strong hug after an injury, making sure that he's alright.

With Kunikida, while he tries to stay professional at work, he could be seen gently guiding the younger one into a short embrace when he would see him going too far in his head. He would always make sure that Atsushi has everything he needs to be happy.

With Fukuzawa, it was rarer but when time permitted, they would both go to the park where some stray cats liked to take nice naps in the sun. They would feed them, play a bit and pet them. If at some point Atsushi would end up as part of a cat cuddle pile, Fukuzawa would be more than happy to be their cushion for a while. After all, Atsushi should get every comfort he wanted.

And with Dazai, it would be part of those soft moments where the older man would let himself relax for real. Longing on one of the Agency’s couch, in warm sunlight, he would gather the younger man in his arms, a perfectly comfortable fit. He would scratch lightly at the tiger's neck, feeling him burrow into him in happiness. They would stay like this for a long while, until the sun was no more, sometimes even longer. At first Kunikida would have protested, but seeing the two of them so relaxed after everything they went through, he could only let them be.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #kunikida doppo #ranpo edogawa #yosano akiko #dazai osamu #naomi tanizaki #tanizaki junichirou #fukuzawa yukichi #my headcanons #it's just some silly thoughts #i want Atsushi to have nice things #and a lot of cuddles #he deserves so many good things

[deadlygronkle]

Ancestors Legacy Chapter 17

The Desert Chapter 7

Word Count: 5444

Ao3 Prev

Warriors awoke to the sound of paws padding against the cool stone floor. The noise should have been quiet and yet like most things now it rang loudly as if it was right next to his head. How anyone was still asleep was beyond him. 

He lifted his head up, careful not to dislodge Wind who was curled up by his side. Looking around, Warriors spotted a familiar golden wolf carefully making his way over to the small spring.

“Time?” Warriors watched as Time flinched, ears pinned back, “What are you doing?”

Time turned towards the Captain, looking mildly embarrassed, “Ah did I wake you up? I was just getting a drink of water, or trying to at least,”

Warriors let out an amused huff, “Everything wakes me up with these ears. The world is  like 20 times louder than it was before,”

“That I can agree on,” Time’s tail wagged slightly as he nodded in Wolfie’s direction, “How he has dealt with this sensitive hearing for so long I’ll never know,”

“You make it sound like he wasn’t always a wolf,” Warriors joked slightly, trying to ignore how Time’s eye widened, as he continued at a whisper, “How are you so sure he is the ‘Wolfie’ that we know?”

Time didn’t answer right away, his head tilted slightly as he thought of a response. Warriors had a far easier time reading Time as a wolf than he did when Time was a Hylian. Perhaps it was because Time wasn’t used to this form and what it entails. Though before that happens Warriors plan to take advantage of being able to read the old man for as long as possible. 

“He is….” Time sighed, shaking his head, “Just trust me on this okay? He’s our Wolfie and is here to help us as much as he can,”

Warriors gave Time a long, hard look. The older Link knew more than he was letting on, just like how he never talked about where Twilight disappears for hours on end. Time wasn’t going to tell Warriors anything no matter how hard he was pressed.

So he will concede on this, for now at least.

“Alright,” Warriors’ tail smacked the stone floor as he shifted in place, “But if I find out he’s holding onto information…..”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Time turned back around to get the drink of water he was talking about. 

Warriors turned his attention to looking over the sleeping bodies of the others. Everyone still seemed to be fast asleep, or at least pretending to be. All except the writhing gray mass trying to squirm his way from under Wild. Grumbles and grunts could be heard from the large wolf, not that Warriors could understand any of it.

Warriors couldn’t help but not trust Wolfie. Just how he was acting made Warriors suspicious, especially with the whole ‘glowing eyes and trying to kill him’ deal. There was no ounce of recognition when Wolfie was glowing. Hell, Warriors had never seen such a crazed expression on Wolfie, especially pointed towards him. Annoyance sure, but never pure, blinding rage. 

It just didn’t feel like the same wolf who curled around the campfire, always mysteriously vanishing when they woke up. Not to mention the issue with how Wolfie got up here in the first place, wolves aren’t exactly made for cannon travel after all. There must be some other way up here that Twilight doesn’t know about or he was lying that the cannon was the only way up. 

As Warriors ruminated, Wolfie had successfully gotten himself out from under Wild all without waking the scarred Hylian up. The large wolf quickly took to looking over everyone from where he stood, head tilting slightly as he made eye contact with Warriors.

Wolfie was still coated in blood, whether it be human’s or monster’s Warriors rather not find out. Even the chain had specks of blood on it that would have to be dealt with soon so it doesn’t rust. The white parts of his fur were no longer glowing nor were his blue eyes. 

Wolfie broke the staring contest by shaking his head and snorting irritably. He then proceeded to make his way over to the water, and, without much bravado, jumped in it. Wolfie, being the size that he is now, easily stood in the water and had to lay down to be fully submerged.

“Who-” The Great Fairy suddenly appeared at the sudden disturbance of her waters, “Ah, it's just you Divine Beast, washing off all the grime from your outing I take it?”

Wolfie raised his head from under the water, “Yes, Sorry about disturbing you. This is the only water source that I know of in these parts, and I rather not smell like rotting meat while I search,”

Warriors was surprised by Wolfie’s voice. Sure it still had the echo but it no longer sounded like the wolf ate sandpaper moments prior. Despite how quiet Wolfie was, Warriors could have sworn he heard that voice before. 

The Great Fairy simply waved him off, “You do as you must, now what are your plans for today?”

Wolfie grunted as he shook off a paw before putting it back into the water, “Look around the local area while I hunt for food for these guys. Light Spirits know how much energy it takes to shift forms, they’re probably starving,”

Warriors turned his head slightly to look over to see Time’s reaction. Time had stopped drinking water and was listening to the conversation with surprising intensity. His ears were completely forward, directed at the two, and his entire body was frozen.

Warriors himself was still processing the information he just heard. Wolfie spoke as if he had some personal experience with transforming. Did Twilight tell him, or does Wolfie actually have a human form?

“A wise decision but,” The Great Fairy moved some of her green hair out of her face, “You have a few herbivores in your midst,”

“THAT is the hardest part of the hunting trip, I hope I can find some plant among the wildlife they can eat,” Wolfie responded, looking out to them as well.

“Might I suggest looking out for some grass and shrubbery, bark as well though I don’t suppose they’ll be too happy about that,” The Great Fairy finished with a smile. 

“I don’t suppose they’ll be happy about raw meat-,” Wolfie’s ears flicked over in Warriors and Time’s direction as Time shifted from foot to foot.

Wolfie turned his head slowly towards the two, eyes widened slightly. Wolfie’s ears went flat against his head as he stared at the two. Warriors can’t even fathom how sensitive Wolfie’s ears were if he could hear Time shifting slightly from across the cavern. 

The Great Fairy followed Wolfie’s gaze, and a look of understanding briefly past her face. She raised a singular eyebrow at Time and Warriors before her attention returned to Wolfie.

With a brief touch to the top of Wolfie’s head, she got his attention again, “Perhaps you should take one of them with you to learn?”

Wolfie shook his head, his voice now sounding like it did the previous day, “No. They aren’t ready,”

Warriors couldn’t even think about responding before the Great Fairy replied sternly, “You do not know that Hero. It is better for them to learn under you than try to figure it out like you once did,”

Wolfie let out a small growl, and moved to get out of the pool, “I won’t let THAT happen to them,”

The Great Fairy frowned, “You have no way of telling the future, help them now so they can help you in return,” 

Time decided to shake out of his stupor and responded “Just give us a chance. Adapting to new challenges is what we do best,”

Warriors didn’t verbally respond, but he did nod along as he watched Wolfie’s reactions. Wolfie was staring down at the stone floor, his ears still flat against his head. Finally Warriors could hear a sigh from the Wolf, as he got out of the water and shook himself free of the water, it somehow not even flattening down his fur fully.

“Fine.” Wolfie looked more towards Warriors than Time, “Which one of you two are coming?” 

“I am,” Warriors responded before Time could, “Sorry old man, but the others listen to you better than they do me. It’s smarter for you to stay here,”

Time did a motion akin to raising an eyebrow, “Then what are you going to do about the little otter at your side?”

Warriors bobbed his head up and down in lew of a shrug, “Sailor sleeps like a rock, I can just put him on you easily,”

“Oh really now?” Time’s tail wagged slightly, “When did I agree to this?”

“What else would you be doing? Talking to the Great Fairy? Having a staring contest with your reflection in the water?” When no answer came Warriors chuffed, “Exactly,”

“Do you even know how to pick Wind up without hurting him?” Wolfie’s voice croaked as he shook himself one last time for good measure and made his way over to the two.

“I- shit,” Warriors looked down at Wind who was still sleeping peacefully at his side.

If he wasn’t careful then he could do some serious damage. Time was even looking a bit frazzled by the implications. Both of them weren’t used to these forms enough to do that without harming the otter.

Wolfie silently moved over to standing directly next to Warriors and stared down at Wind like he was sizing him up. Then with surprising grace and gentleness, Wolfie bent down and picked up Wind from around the middle. The otter looked so small in Wolfie’s maw, like he could be swallowed in two bites. 

Wolfie tilted his head wordless at Time, encouraging the other to lay down. When Time walked over and got settled Wolfie placed the otter gently on his side. Surprisingly Wind didn’t even stir and only moved to bury himself in Time’s fur.

“How did you do that so effortlessly?” Time asked, sniffing at the small otter on his side. 

“First lesson is on controlling your strength,” was all Wolfie answered with, his chain clinking against the floor as he moved to the stairway, “are you coming or not?”

Warriors quickly got up and took off after the large wolf. Saying a quick goodbye to Time as he went.

“Stay safe,” Was all Warriors could hear from Time as he went to the next level of the dungeon

—--------------------------------

“Sooooo…. what are we going to be hunting?” Warriors asked once they were outside of the cave.

“Anything,” Wolfie turned to tilt his head at Warriors, “Try and find a trail,”

“A trail?” Warriors asked as his ears went to the side slightly.

“The scent trail monsters, people, and animals have that they leave while walking,” Wolfie explained, “Lions’ sense of smell isn’t as good as wolves, but you shouldn’t have an issue with it,”

Warriors bent down, giving the sand a test sniff, “So how does this work exactly?”

“It works differently for different people. All I have to do is sniff around to find the trails,” Wolfie unhelpfully explained, “Just don’t start following trails that smell… dark,”

Warriors looked up, “Dark?”

“Corrupting, evil, whatever you want to call it. Smells different for everyone, for me it smells like rotting meat,” Wolfie had a distant look in his eyes as he turned away. 

“Alright then….” Warriors turned back to the ground as Wolfie went silent. 

Wolfie had a hardened look in his eyes. Warriors definitely knew something was up, maybe an unfortunate experience during the quest here. Twilight got the same way when they were questioning him on his relationship with the Queen. 

Sniffing the ground, Warriors tried to make sense of what he was smelling. There seemed to be thousands of smells intertwined just in this one area. A sour smell was most prominent coming from either Wolfie or older ‘trails.’ Unluckily enough Warriors couldn’t differentiate any of the smells.

“Did you find anything?” Wolfie asked upon hearing Warriors sigh.

“Nope, the main thing I smelled is something sour coming from you and the area around us. What’s up with that?” Warriors stood up fully, watching as Wolfie bent down to sniff the sand.

“Must be remnants of those three,” Wolfie’s nose was wrinkled, showing faint signs of sharp teeth.

“So there are three ‘interlopers’ as the Great Fairy put it? What’s their deal anyway?” Warriors asked.

“All you need to know is that they are the ones who stole the Great Fairy’s power, and they are the reasons the Zone is here,” Wolfie said, once again looking away from Warriors.

“But you know more,” Warriors supplied, “Why not just say it now rather than just keeping it to yourself? We are a team after all,”

Wolfie snarled, “Nothing I have learnt will help as at the moment. If it was relevant I would say something,”

There it was again. That damn look like Wolfie knew better than Warriors. Which may be true in this whole ‘animal’ thing, but knowing the details of a mission is critical. This isn’t something a team member should keep to themselves just because they can.

Warriors growled, “Listen here Fido- I am tired of you hiding information from us. So actually answer my questions, like where Twilight is or even the information you are clearly hiding,”

Wolfie just looked down at him cooly, “I don’t know where Twilight is, we went our separate ways at the Cave of Orde-”

“BULLSHIT!” Warriors got up directly in Wolfie’s face, “if he was around then he would have already found us! So tell me what happened to him before things get serious,”

He was done with Wolfie’s games. Twilight could be hurt or worse and he wasn’t going to risk it because this wolf wanted to be secretive. Just talking to this beast angered Warriors for some unknown reason.

Wolfie’s eyes widened, “Nothing’s happened to him! I- he-.... Just trust me on this alright? He isn’t hurt, and he is safe,”

That slip up did not go unnoticed by Warriors as he briefly wondered why both Wolfie and Time were so obviously keeping something from him. It bothered him to no end, teammates are supposed to share things. Especially if it was related to the job they were doing. 

“Give me a reason to trust you and I’ll let this drop because this entire thing is suspicious as hell,” Warriors felt his tail flick wildly side to side. 

Wolfie’s ears twitched, “What kind of reason do you want? Do you need me to prove that I am the ‘Wolfie’ you know or what?”

“That would be a good start,” Warriors was keenly aware of every movement the large wolf made.

“Fine,” Wolfie sighed, “When you were looking around the castle and encountered that poe. I saved the entire group, even getting a bit of my fur cut off in the process. Or I could talk about the time I woke you up from a nightmare roughly 2 weeks into m-.... Twilight joining you,”

Warriors was too surprised to process the slip up as he stared at the Wolf. It was for sure the wolf from the castle, although something wasn’t adding up. He didn’t remember Wolfie being there when he woke up. In fact it was Twilight who was on watch and woke him up. 

Wolfie at that point was basically an enigma, barely being seen at the edges of battles, taking out any monsters that came too close. Wolfie didn’t even get into the light of the fire until a good month into their travels. So how exactly was this wolf the one to wake him up?

“So, do you believe me now? Or are we just going to keep going in circles like this?” Wolfie interrupted his thoughts, tilting his head. 

Warriors nodded, “It’ll do right now. Only when we find Twi will I actually believe you,”

Wolfie huffed, “So we can go now, or am I going to be interrogated more?” 

Wolfie’s forced gravelly voice dropped just for a second. The echo was still there, but it sounded eerily close to Twilight’s. In fact, Twilight said something similar back in the castle. Just what was the connection between the two?

The winds shifted slightly and Wolfie perked up, “Let’s go,”

‘Wait what?” The lion asked, having to bound after Wolfie just to keep up, “Where are we going?”

“I smell a Bullbo, we can use that to feed everyone easily,” Wolfie looked around, ears swiveling in every direction, “Just have to make sure we don’t encounter the rider,” 

“It has a rider? Just what are we hunting?” Warriors asked, sniffing the air to try and find anything.

“A giant boar basically. The Bulbins use them to travel and for meat,” Wolfie’s head turned to their left for a moment, as he led them to the right.

“Will we encounter any Bulbins there?” Warriors asked, trying to keep up as Wolfie increased in speed.

Wolfie froze, head turning to the left again, “Look,”

Coming across a nearby dune was a warped creature. It was roughly the shape of a Bulbin but pitch black, a mask of white on its face. Glowing red lines were so bright that Warriors could see it from their position.

“What in Din’s balls is THAT?!” Warriors asked, watching the best shamble as if something was weighing it down

“Shadow cursed Bulbin, a fate that awaits for any monster that are trapped here,” Wolfie answered solemnly, “It shouldn’t bother us for now,”

“Will that happen to us?” Warriors took one last look at the pitiful creature before bounding after the wolf.

“Luckily no, your triforce protects you,” Wolfie started to drag one of his paws through the sand for some reason.

“Then what of you?” Warriors asked, watching as Wolfie’s fur rose for a moment. 

“....You don’t need to worry about me. The Zones barely have an effect on me, even after all this time,” Wolfie finally said after a long moment.

Wolfie refused to talk anymore than saying a yes or a no to any other questions Warriors asked him. Due to that, the two settled into a slightly uncomfortable silence. The only noise being from Wolfie’s chain grinding in the sand and their sound of their feet hitting the sand. 

Eventually Wolfie stopped, crouching into the sand as he looked onward. Warriors did pretty much the same, trying to figure out what the wolf was looking at. 

It became abundantly clear what Wolfie was looking at. There was a small oasis at the bottom of the dune where a giant boar was eating. The boar has a saddle and didn’t even appear worried about any potential hunters. It looked like a perfect area for everything they needed.

“Is that the Bullbo?” Warriors asked, watching Wolfie sniff the air.

“Correct,” Wolfie spoke in a hushed whisper.

“So what’s the plan?”

Wolfie thought for a moment, “You flank it- attack either its legs or underbelly- I attack head on,”

“Is there a risk it will try and kick me?” Warriors asked, analyzing the beast.

Its hide was thick and coarse. Just from the look of it it was made for endurance more than intelligence. The more stupid the beast or person the more dangerous it is.

“Are there any doubts?” was all he got in response.

Warriors bit back a snarky response, “Any tips?”

This actually made Wolfie pause for a moment, “.....Trust your instincts, and back out if it gets too dicey,”

Warriors’ ears went back, tail smacking the sand with irritation, “Same stuff as usual then, what if you get injured? What then?”

Wolfie looked over, blue eyes filled with earnesty, “You don’t have to worry about that,”

Warriors huffed in annoyance as he went to his position. He was getting tired of people telling him not to worry. It must be a usual thing in this world as now both Twilight and Wolfie have essentially told him not to worry. 

Once he was on the dune behind the Bullbo he saw that Wolfie started to approach it. Wolfie was crouched into the sand, keeping low to the ground as he approached the boar. It was a smart plan as Wolfie approached from downwind, freezing and crouching low whenever the Bulbin turned it head slightly.

Wolfie strategically moved to the side, eyes never leaving the Bullbo’s neck. Then with speed Warriors had rarely seen from the wolf, he struck. Teeth digging into the top of the neck of the beast, forcing it to kneel.

The Bullbo let out a pained squeal as red blood dripped into the sand. It shook, and stomped trying to get Wolfie to let go. He held on though, somehow keeping the large beast bent down as it squealed in pain.

Warriors took this as his time to come in and help. Racing in, he carefully avoided the flailing legs and jumped. He landed smack dab on the saddle of the beast, nearly slipping off immediately. This earned him a glance from Wolfie as he continued to bite down.

Warriors shook away any discomfort from his messy landing and looked at the beast. He could now tell that Wolfie was aiming for the spine of this beast to kill it. From how deep Wolfie’s teeth were in the beast’s neck it was only a matter of time.

After another moment of hesitation warriors decided to turn around and go for a back leg. His claws made it a relatively simple task to turn around, his tail going back and forth quickly as he tried to maintain balance. 

Digging his claws into the Bullbo’s rough hide felt weird. It was somehow easy, but ripping at the muscles was a whole different task. Eventually he got to make an inch cut in the skin, the bullbo now screaming in pain so loud that Warriors winced.

Then, almost in slow motion, he felt the bullbo break free of Wolfie’s iron tight jaws rearing up on its hind legs. Warriors, almost like it was second nature, leaped, avoiding the boar trying to flip and gore him with its tusks.

Blood was pouring from the wound on its neck, as Wolfie moved to block the Bullbo from the Captain. Wolfie barked and snarled, jumping away from the beast almost in a taunting manner. The Bullbo took the bait and sluggishly charged at Wolfie.

Then, at the last possible moment, Wolfie dodged out of the way and immediately changed his direction to attach himself back onto the neck. The Bullbo let out one last scream, before crumbling to the ground lifelessly.

Wolfie let go, blood still dripping from his maw as he moved towards Warriors, “Are you alright?”

“Are you?” Warriors asked, seeing how tired Wolfie looked.

“I’m fine, it’s just been a while since I had to do something like that,“ Wolfie glanced back at the corpse before managing a smirk, “I wasn’t expecting you to jump on top of it though,”

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Warriors bobbed his head towards the small plants in the oasis, “Shall we?”

The wolf’s ears flattened, “Let’s just hope we can secure the plants so they don’t fly away,”

The lion snorted, making his way towards the grass. Somehow they would figure this out even if it took all day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was eventually decided that Wolfie would take the Bullbo as Warriors took the plants and fruit. This was mainly because of Wolfie’s larger size and the fact he was actually able to move the beast. 

So, Warriors took to securing the plants and fruit they managed to gather to the Bullbo’s saddle. Wolfie had torn the straps apart to get it free. It was a difficult task for Warriors to make a knot, especially with no opposable thumbs. Eventually though he managed to secure it with a sloppy knot.

“Alright! That should do it,” Warriors stood up fully to admire his work.

“Finally,” Wolfie grumbled as he stood up, “Now come on, the others are waiting for us,”

“Right,”

It was slow going as pulling the Bullbo up sand dunes was visibly starting to wear on Wolfie. There were still no complaints from Wolfie however as he obediently pulled it, getting slower and slower as time went on. 

Warriors sighed, annoyed. It was clear to him that Wolfie wasn’t going to ask for a break anytime soon. Twilight did the same thing occasionally, especially when he was caught in the rain one night and was running a fever. Though this particular instance seemed a bit more dangerous than just being a little sick.

“Can we take a break? I need to readjust the knot,” Warriors lied easily watching the Bullbo corpse stop moving.

“Alright, we’re nearly back anyway,” Wolfie answered quickly, flopping into the sand with a huff.

Warriors spent as long as possibly pretending to fix the knot. He couldn’t drag it out for too long though as then Wolfie would come to see what the holdup was. When enough time passed Warriors turned around to tell Wolfie he was ready to go, only to see a familiar golden glowing poe.

“You.” Warriors snarled at the poe, who looked just how he did last he saw him.

Wolfie could immediately be seen on alert ears swiveling until he noticed the poe, “Shade?”

“You know this freak?” Warriors asked, looking at Shade unamused, “When did that happen?”

Wolfie thought for a second, “He helped to train both me and.. Twilight during his adventure,”

Shade shook his head and looked at Wolfie, his red eye showing just a faint bit of amusement in them.

“Your sense of humor is still skewed. I don’t see what’s funny about this,” Wolfie seemed to retort, though the shade just tilted its head.

“What? What did he say?” Warriors asked, but were ignored.

Shade tilted his head as a bandaged arm raised up and gestured to the area around them. Wolfie’s ear flattened and looked embarrassed. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Warriors asked, looking in between the two.

“You can’t hear him?” Wolfie asked, as Shade shook his head.

“No! It’s just you replying to this silent prick!” Warriors replied, sending a glare over to the shade.

He hadn't forgotten his first encounter with the poe. How Time looked utterly terrified when making eye contact with it. Nor how the Shade seemed to be indifferent until they mentioned Twilight. Even now this ‘Shade’ seemed far more expressive than their previous encounter.

“You’ve actually met him before?” Wolfie asked, shooting a look at Shade.

“Yeah, he’s the one who pointed us to you,” Warriors said, pausing to look over at Wolfie, “So what was it saying?”

“Well-” Wolfie stopped and looked over at Shade, a small whine of confusion able to be heard.

Warriors look over at the Shade, seeing it raise its hand and signing out:

(I was telling him to take better care of himself)

Wolfie’s ears perked with interest as Warriors responded, “Wait you can sign? Then what was all of that cryptic pointing and glaring at Time shit?”

At the mention of Time, Shade’s hands clenched tightly mid-sign before relaxing and continuing, “(I… have my reasons for doing what I do)”

“You sure about that?” Wolfie innocently asked, which would've worked if not for the hard stare he was giving the poe.

If looks could kill, Shade would be 6 feet in the ground. Warriors was wondering what Shade was saying that was earning him that look.

“Another thing!” Warriors once again drew the twos attention from the staring contest, “Why is it you have Old Man’s helmet? Are you the original owner of it or something?”

The lion could actually see amusement in the red eye, “(Why do YOU think I have it…. Captain?)

Warriors’ blue eyes were blown wide open as Wolfie looked between the two confused. Shade had just used his ‘sign name’, something that very few people knew and even fewer used it. 

He thought back to those in his world and who helped him in the war. This poe was recognized by Wolfie so he must be attached to this world somehow. That ruled out a good chunk of his allies, leaving only two people- well Links- that it could be that used his sign name.

“No way…” Warriors found himself sitting down, “Time?!”

“(It has been some time since I was referred to as such)”

“Wait what?” Wolfie looked between the two, his voice no longer having the distorted effect, “What’s going on? How do you know who he is?”

“He used my sign name, not many people use it even today,” Warriors looked at the poe, “I’m surprised he remembers it with how…. Old he looks,”

“(You are not surprised by this.)” Shade noted.

“Well… yeah,” Warriors sighed, wishing he could scratch the back of his head, “Twilight kinda told me that he met Time- well- YOU during his adventure. That idea expanded when Twilight freaked out towards your Stalfos form. I wasn't expecting to see you so…”

“(Dead?)”

“Yeah.. that,” Warriors said noting how Wolfie flinched, “You signing would have been useful for leading us Twilight rather than this prick,”

Warriors looked at Wolfie who was avoiding looking at Shade with all his might. His ears were completely flat as he took to using his other paw to fiddle with the manacle around his leg.

“(I showed you the way to Twilight)” Shade casually looked at Wolfie, who now looked panicked.

Warriors frowned, right about to say something as the pieces fell into place. The matching scars on the left arm, the matching tattoos, even the ear piercings. The refusal to answer his questions all made sense. How did he not notice that Wolfie and Twilight sounded and acted so similar to each other?

“Holy fuck. You’re Twilight,” Warriors said it like it was a statement, as Wolfie’s head snapped towards him.

“What? No-” Wolfie looked to Shade, “Back me up here!” 

Shade lifted both of his hands up, apparently saying something that Wolfie did not like as he growled.

Warrior grinned, “You're totally him!”

“No-” Wolfie tried to refuse, as he was interrupted.

“All that bravado and aloofness-” Warriors fully laughed now, “You were just trying to keep your identity a secret!”

“I just told you-” Wolfie paused, seeing Shade shake his head.

He continued, now looking defeated, “This is your fault Shade. Fine, I’m Twilight, happy now?”

“I can’t wait to tell the others,” Warriors replied smugly.

Twilight’s eyes widened with panic again as he quickly walked over, “You can’t!”

“Why can’t I?” Warriors met the panic with calmness. 

“I…” Wolfie paused, “This form of mine, isn’t from the usual magic everyone uses. I was cursed- you know that necklace I wear?”

“The one you freak out about if anyone so much as looks at it?” Warriors specified, “What about it?”

“Zant cursed me to this form, shoving that crystal into my skull,” Twilight looked down with disgust, “It’s dark magic, not very befitting of a hero,” 

“So you're worried about their reaction to you using some unconventional magic?” Warriors waited until Twilight nodded, “...Your a fucking idiot,”

“What?” Twilight tilted his head, his ears bending with gravity. 

“You’re family, why would we care about the specific magic you are using? You’ve already proven you can be trusted 20 times over,” Warriors sighed, “But fine I’ll keep it a secret for now. Who all knows about this?” 

“....Wild, Four, and Time,” Twilight responded with a sigh, “Now can we go? The others have to be wondering where we are,”

Of course those three knew, they were constantly hiding things and making excuses as to why he was gone in the first place. Warriors internally grumbled at all the blatantly obvious hints to Wolfie’s identities. Even Time’s slip up made sense now.

“Sure…. Mr. Floof Flooferton,” Warriors grinned as Twilight snarled.

“I can and will bite you,” 

“But you won’t,” Warrior looked to where Shade was only to find he had disappeared, “Where did he go?”

“Who knows?” Twilight grumbled, “He does this everytime, gives some cryptic advice before vanishing into mid air,” 

Warriors went over to the saddle, ready to pick it up again, “Well let’s just get to the others, I can’t imagine how hangry they are,”

“We will find out soon enough,” Twilight grabbed the reins of the Bullbo, once again continuing to lead them back to the Cave of Ordeals.

#ancestor's legacy #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu four #linked universe fanfic

[glassesntea]

Another sneak peek from my upcoming Levi x fem!reader headcanon

You couldn't shake the feeling that you didn't deserve this, that everything would crumble down, letting misery and sadness flood back again.

You saw Gabi looking at you, a worried expression on her face, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

Even Falco has stopped talking, a similar worry on his eyes "You don't like the stew?"

You gulped. The dread you felt climbing up your throath was slowly ebbing away.

You survived, you were here with people who cared about you.

You were not alone.

"Aha... no, it's fine," you croacked, smiling at the kids. Levi was staring at you as well, but you weren't able to held his gaze for long. It seemed to understand what has passed through your mind and you felt embarassement warming your face.

Don't look at me like that, I don't want anyone's pity.

"And the stew is delicious. Thank you, Falco."

-----

Later on, when the kids came back to their home, you sat down on the couch, reading a book.

You heard Levi approaching the living room, the ritmic tap of his cane stopping at the doorstep. You lifted your eyes from the page and, for some reason, he looked hesitant.

He opened his mouth once, then closing it, as if what he wanted to say eluded him. He limped near the couch, sitting on the other end away from you.

"Y'know..." he tapped his index on the handle of the cane "You don't have to do that."

"Do... what exactly?" You asked, careful not to sound too defensive. He turned his face to look at you, the light of the lamp casting a warm hue on his features. You have noticed that his blind eye was particulary sensitive to the sunlight. You have seen him squinting when you were outside with Onyankopon and the kids two days ago.

He didn't looked bothered by it right now, thankfully.

"Be cheerful like that."

You frowned "Uh? Should I be... miserable instead? Levi I don't know what you're talki..."

"No, wait I..." he tsked, lifting his hand "it came out wrong. What I wanted to say is: you don't have to pretend that you are fine if you are not."

You stayed silent. The old you, the one before the Rumbling, would have deflected his worry with a pleasant façade and a bubbly demeanor. Right now, that girl was chained somewhere deep within you, stunned in her numbness, unable to hide what you truly felt.

"I... I wasn't..." you held your breath for a second, before exhaling " I used to be able to find the positive aspects of everything once. To push forward without thinking much about..." you gestured vaguely "This."

Levi placed his cane to the side, making himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch with a grunt "A lot happened since then. Doesn't mean you should act in a way to make others feel better if you are not."

"Mh. I feel like I don't deserve any of this... not when many others didn't have the same luck."

"You have fought for this life, it wasn't luck. And many lives keep on walking on this earth for the same reason" he lowered his voice "don't do this to yourself, regretting things out of guilt and smothering your feelings won't do you any good."

Your eyes burned but your chest felt lighter, like the weight that crushed your lungs during dinner was suddenly lifted from your body. You sniffed. The book forgotten in your lap.

"I guess you are right. It's just... not easy."

"If it was, we wouldn't be here talking about it."

You snorted "Always the pragmatic, Captain?"

"I mean, you would be with Armin and the others. And... not here."

Oh.

"I don't know about that. But of one thing I'm sure..." you shifted closer, Levi stiffened a bit by your sudden movement but he regarded you with a tinge of confusion "This is the place I want to be regardless of everything. I'm not cut to be an ambassador and despite everything I love being here with the kids, Onyankopon and you. And you may not believe that, but I'm at peace here. I feel like I'm starting to piece my life together."

You placed your hand on his: it twitched, like he wanted to slip away, but in the end you felt the muscles relax. You knew he hated to show his missing fingers, let alone allowing others to touch the area. In your haste you didn't realize it, but to your surprise he squeezed gently and you smiled at him.

"I'm glad." His voice conveyed the same kindness, low and pure. The mellow light of the lamp made the sharp edges of his figure more round, almost youthful.

The eyes... has anyone ever seen this part of him?

As the thought slipped in your mind, the same sensation of three weeks ago came back in your stomach: a buzzing sensation that blurred the edges of everything outside the greyish-blue colour of his iris, the warmth of his skin...

Levi was unmoving. It was difficult to read his face right now. Or maybe it wasn't... because you saw... confusion, yes. Even a smidge of something more profound and vulnerable.

You percived a sense of longing in your chest. A crave for connection. You lowered your eyes to your interwind fingers, just in time to see a current in Levi's other hand that slowly move to cover you, trapping you in an unspoken desire to nearness.

"A-Ah, well, yes. I'm the first to be glad" you slowly but firmly withdraw your hand, and put some distance. Whatever happened, it disappeared like a reflex on the tides. You noticed Levi's expresion closing off again, clearing his throath and crossing his arms, like an armour. He pushed himself farther, like he feared that moment as much as you did.

This tension between you two was something you still didn't understand.

"Well, I'm beat." You streached yourself and got up "Gonna hit off the bed. Do you need me for something?"

"No, get some rest. See you tomorrow" he answered and you hurried toward you room, your heart beating too fast.

I don't know what it was. But I can't allow it out again.

We can't

Upcoming soon

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #Aot #snk headcanons #aot headcanons #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x you

[chenfordspiral]

I move through the world with the heartbroken (my longings stay unspoken)

The first time Tim spoke to Lucy again after the parking lot was six days later. Somehow, they had managed to avoid each other until today, and he wasn’t sure if he should love or hate it. But he couldn’t dwell on that too much right now, not when he knew she’d just come back from an intense standoff with a suspect that left said suspect dead and her with a bullet in the vest. Again. 

And even though he wanted, hell, needed to keep his distance from her because he didn’t deserve to be in her presence anymore, he couldn’t stop himself from checking in with her anyway. Because he would always care and worry about her and love her with everything he had. It’s why he walked away in the first place.

You want the best for the people you love, and he wasn’t what was best for Lucy.

“Are you okay?”

She stuttered to a halt, turning her head slightly to glance up at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He could see that she wasn’t, though. She was clearly still rattled about what had happened earlier that day. Or maybe it was him she was skittish and uncomfortable around now, not that he could blame her for that.

“Lucy-“

“I said I’m fine, Sergeant Bradford. Don’t pretend like you suddenly care about my wellbeing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means. You don’t get to worry about me anymore. You walked away from me, so you have to live with the consequences. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back out on patrol. Sir.”

Before he could even utter a single syllable in response, she had turned on her heels and was gone.

Well shit.

keep reading on AO3.

#chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #chenford fanfic #chenford fanfiction #post 6x06 #sorry but this isn't happy

[sokkastyles]

this is part of a thread where they show how many times zuko gets jealous vs mai not being.

mai’s calmness is a result of her conditioning. she’s meant to act apathetic to basically everything, she’s not meant to overreact or show having any sort of subjective opinions about anything that happens.

zuko was at his worst during The Beach, and he does eventually become calm when he leaves. zuko being ‘temperamental’—i’d rather use emotional because it makes it seem less like zuko’s feelings aren’t completely valid in their expression—is what he thinks is going to get him what he wants out of mai’s behavior.

they don’t complement each other well. zuko doesn’t bring mai out of her apathy, mai doesn’t allow zuko to be anything but ozai’s son. mai stagnates zuko by treating him like he’s still the kid who fell in the fountain with her.

mai’s calmness is not an allowing of zuko to express his frustrations, it’s that scene of them on the boat with zuko talking about how complicated it feels to be back home and mai yawning, telling him she didn’t ask for his life story.

You are exactly right about Zuko's feelings being valid. He's not "temperamental" for being angry when he's stuck in an abusive situation. He SHOULD be making a big deal about it.

And I would not call Mai calm. Apathy is not calm. Mai's not even just apathetic, she's needlessly negative.

While Zuko's jealousy isn't justified, she'd been sending him negative signals all episode. What is he supposed to think when nothing he does makes her happy?

Also, if we are comparing who gets the most jealous, what about Mai actively putting Zuko's life in danger because he broke up with her? What about her telling Zuko to never break up with her again in the finale? What about her humiliating Zuko in front of Jin in the "Going Home Again" comic simply because Zuko dated her before he and Mai were together?

The only reason Mai doesn't get jealous is because when Zuko is with her in the Fire Nation, he literally has nowhere else to go. But if Zuko were to turn his eye to someone else, you know Mai would absolutely flip, even if they weren't dating, because Mai's shown multiple times that she feels entitled to Zuko even when they aren't dating.

#zuko #antimaiko

[philosophiums]

hooooo boy i haven't posted a fic here in a long time but @hinamie's itafushi art fully possessed me so please take this offering as my first ever jjk fic

--------------------

Night has set in like a bruise – a dark sky framed and mottled by light pollution, a memory of violence hidden behind a veneer of something almost pretty. There’s evidence of life in the distant city, but nothing close by. Megumi can hear a soft thrum of traffic and the occasional shout or laugh, but the immediate vicinity hosts only crickets and the restlessness of his companion.

Itadori is pacing at the bottom of the staircase Megumi is sitting on, and Megumi watches him closely out of the corner of his eye. It’s nothing new for Itadori to hype himself up before a fight, so Megumi isn’t worried, exactly, but there’s something abnormal in the fierceness of his movements, the rolling of his shoulders, the way his head tilts like he’s trying and failing to have a conversation in his head. 

He doesn’t want to mention it. Conversations with Itadori are often marred by the reality of what the finish line looks like – they can’t both make it out alive. They both know it. Itadori likes to pretend he hasn’t grasped the reality of the situation, but Megumi understands the depth of the haunting he carries around when he thinks no one is looking. Which means that when Megumi asks after him, inquires into his wellbeing, Itadori brushes it off with a smile and a laugh. And his smile is as brilliant as the sun, so of course Megumi has to look away to protect himself.

Somewhere in the nearby bushes, several of his rabbit shikigami are maintaining a perimeter around the area, allowing him to relax while still doing everything he can to stay on high alert. Shibuya shouldn’t have turned into such a mess, and maybe it wouldn’t have if more people had been suspicious to the point of paranoia. It’s too late to fix that, too late to take away Itadori’s scars, too late to take back the suicide pact he himself signed, but he can at least look ahead to whatever future awaits them. He can do his best to keep them safe. 

“Fushiguro.” 

Oh no. Nothing good ever comes from Itadori’s serious voice. 

Please. 

If I die, you’ll kill me, right?

He blinks and finds himself looking at a stationary Itadori, hands in his pockets and eyes on the building behind Megumi. “What is it?”

“Are there really curses in there? I thought they couldn’t step foot in a church.” Itadori looks genuine when he asks, and it wouldn’t be the first foolish question out of his mouth, but the tone he used to call Megumi’s name just… doesn’t match with the question. Seriousness followed by off-handed curiosity isn’t exactly Itadori’s style. This isn’t what he had wanted to say, but something made him pivot into an unplanned conversation. 

Maybe Megumi has been paying too close attention to him. Maybe Megumi should know better. It’s all doomed anyway – a heat death guaranteed to happen. There’s no point in devoting so much time trying to learn someone’s intricacies when they’re inevitably going to leave, by force or otherwise. He should save himself the heartache. He should have learned his lesson the first time Itadori died.

His arms shake with the phantom weight of Itadori’s body in his arms, limp and lifeless and bloody with that stupid soft smile still on his face even in death with a hole in his chest. His parting words still circle in Megumi’s head sometimes.

Part of him wishes that Itadori had cursed him in the end. Maybe it would have been easier.

“You’re thinking of vampires,” Megumi says. “Or demons. Curses can go anywhere.”

Itadori makes a sound like he’s not really sure he believes Megumi, which is insane because Megumi is not the one who watches movies with vampires and demons in them. At least, he hadn’t before Itadori walked into his life and demanded movie nights at the school and midnight viewings at the theater.

“A church, though?” Itadori continues, insisting. “Aren’t these supposed to be, like, full of positive energy?” He tilts his head up and to the side, and the closest streetlight reflects across his face, highlighting his jaw, catching in his eyes until they glow damn near gold.

Megumi has to look away. His chest hurts if he stares too long at everything he can’t have.

“Just because something is comforting doesn’t mean it can’t be a curse.” As soon as the words leave Megumi’s mouth, he knows he shouldn’t have said them. Even in his peripheral, almost entirely out of his view, he can see Itadori look at him with his expression opening into surprise or something worse.

Fuck. He really can’t allow himself to be so obvious, especially when they’re hours away from stepping through the barrier around the first Tokyo colony and into the Culling Game. They’re about to put their lives on the line again. Now isn’t the time to lose his composure.

Before he can catch himself, his hand is in his pocket, digging out the pack he keeps for what he considers emergencies. There’s a cigarette between his fingers in a matter of seconds, and his lighter is in his other hand a moment later.

Itadori swipes it before he can light up, and Megumi is left with wide eyes and a cigarette dangling limply between his lips as he looks up at the boy suddenly standing over him. He forgets, sometimes, just how fast Itadori is. 

“Since when do you smoke?” Itadori asks, all childish curiosity, not an ounce of judgement in his tone. And yet, the stolen lighter feels like judgement – a withholding of something, well… harmful, sure, but it’s not like Megumi isn’t aware that every inhale of nicotine is an inch closer to his death. What does losing a minute or an hour or a day matter when he’s probably not going to reach the age of thirty, anyway?

“Since middle school,” Megumi replies, reaching out to attempt to quickly reclaim his lighter, but all Itadori has to do is lean his torso to the side and it’s out of reach. “Can I have that back, please?” 

“Why?” Itadori hasn’t had such a soft look on his face since they dragged themselves kicking and screaming out of the warzone Shibuya turned into.

“Because there’s a cigarette in my mouth and it would be a waste not to smoke it.”

Itadori makes a face, a petulant little pout just this side of sticking his tongue out. It’s cute, and Megumi has to close his eyes for a moment. “I meant why did you start smoking in middle school?”

The sigh that leaves Megumi’s lungs is heavier than he wants it to be. He’s not… good with emotions, and he’s even worse at expressing them. It wasn’t a problem when he was all alone, with the second-years distant due to their classes, and Gojo either a nuisance better avoided or thousands of kilometers away taking care of a curse too powerful for anyone else to handle. But then Itadori, fresh off the loss of his grandfather, sacrificed himself for not only his friends but for Megumi as well. And he has refused to leave, no matter how hard Megumi tried at first to put up his barriers and protect himself.

Because the truth is that Megumi was helpless from the moment Itadori jumped through a window and crash landed on a curse. He is the very definition of someone with an unshakeable character. The fact that they’re here, now, on the backside of a slaughter, newly scarred and traumatized, and Itadori can still smile at him in a way that softens his eyes proves beyond any doubt that he is who he is and that won’t change. And it guts Megumi from the inside out because everyone who has ever touched his life has become poisoned by him.

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it between his knuckles. “I don’t know. I wanted…” This time when he sighs, it’s softer, and he moves his gaze away out of embarrassment more than anything else. Itadori and Kugisaki already made fun of him for how he acted in middle school, and he doesn’t want to go through it again. “I wanted people to be afraid of me – teachers, students, upperclassmen, underclassmen, it didn’t matter. I wanted to look and be as aggressive as possible so they didn’t mess with me or Tsumiki.”

Itadori snorts, and less than a second later he’s laughing with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. For the moment, he’s unguarded, and Megumi uses the opportunity to stare. In the low amber light, he looks impossibly young, soft around the edges where his scars and personal losses have hardened him. The pink of his hair dims into the gentlest of dawns, and the happy tears that pearl in the corners of his eyes are more stunning than the thin veil of starlight overhead. In a world overflowing with curses, Megumi has never believed in angels, and yet it’s the only word he can conjure that comes even close to describing the boy in front of him. 

Megumi knows he’s in love; how could he not be?

“That’s just like you,” Itadori says, breathless, and Megumi suddenly feels like he’s falling even though Itadori is the one suddenly dropping to sit on the stairs beside him.

Itadori is a morning person, even though he’s slow to wake up. He won’t drink coffee unless it’s iced. He never tucks in his shirt tags. When he’s upset, he throws himself into social situations to hide behind other people’s laughter. He carries snacks in his pockets and will offer them to everyone. These are all details that Megumi has collected about Itadori, stashing them away like a crow with shiny objects, hoarding them as the treasures that they are and that he can never truly have.

He had never once considered that Itadori has been observing him just as studiously in return.

Their knees bump, and Megumi knows he should pull away, but he can’t bring himself to. The night isn’t cold, but Itadori’s warmth is a comfort, anyway. Megumi hasn’t had many comforts in his life.

“Give me my lighter back,” he says instead of acknowledging anything else. His chest hurts. His heart is too loud in his ears. Itadori is right there, lips twisted by his scar, eyes flashing with the humor that’s still rolling through him, shaking his shoulders as he looks back at Megumi.

Instead of answering or acquiescing, Itadori leans forward until their shoulders press together, blocking out the ghost of a breeze flowing in from behind them, and rolls his thumb over the spark wheel until a flame catches. His hand and Megumi’s both come up at the same time to cup around the other side, protecting the small flame from the elements, and it’s tender and intimate when Megumi’s fingers brush against the curve of Itadori’s palm.

He pretends not to notice as he puts the cigarette back between his lips and ducks his head. The first drag to catch the paper and tobacco on fire takes a while, and he is so incredibly aware of how close Itadori is, of the protective shell they’ve made with their bodies as they keep this flame going between them. He can’t think about it, can’t acknowledge it, can’t –

As soon as he sees embers, he sits up and leans away, creating a small pocket of space for him to exhale into. But the flame stays lit, Itadori’s thumb still pressed into the fork to keep the gas flowing out. 

Megumi smacks his arm without looking at him directly. “You’re wasting the butane.”

Without protest this time, Itadori listens, and the flame dies with a soft click as the fork snaps back into place.

The stillness of the night around them settles again, crickets becoming the dominating sound over the gentle rattling of leaves and the far distant honking of a car horn. The tobacco sizzles as the fire slowly eats through it every time Megumi takes a drag.

Itadori’s unwavering gaze on him feels like a physical weight. There’s a tender smile there, Megumi just knows it, but god damn it he won’t look. This can’t be a this. There’s nothing here but a road that dead ends on a bottomless cliff. No one has forever, despite claiming that they will, but he and Itadori don’t even have years. They could die tomorrow, the moment they step through that barrier. Fuck, the curses in the church behind them could come out and catch them off guard right now, and no one would know where to look for their bodies.

So it doesn’t matter that Itadori sometimes looks at Megumi like he hung the moon. It doesn’t matter that Megumi understands the plight of Icarus when he sees Itadori smile. He is not going to create a situation that is doomed to end early. He is not going to push his feelings into the world just for the universe to stomp them into the dirt. He is not going to let himself muddy the lines on a friendship that is already too good to be true.

He takes a drag in that’s harsher and longer than the last, fast enough that his lips burn from the fire racing too fast through the cigarette towards the filter. He lets it hurt, tells himself he deserves it, and exhales the smoke slowly with his eyes closed.

For a moment, he just sits there, his arm draped across his knee, which is still pressed into Itadori’s knee, and tries to pretend that everything is fine. It’s normal. It’s just a crush. It’ll go away. He would rather die with longing in his heart than risk living long enough to experience a loss that will crush him.

When he brings his hand back up to take another drag, fingers on his wrist stop him in his tracks.

“Fushiguro.”

“Itadori?” He turns his head and opens his eyes in the same movement, wondering if there’s a problem, if all the actions he took to be obsessively vigilant were for naught, if somehow something got the drop on them. “What –”

The press of Itadori’s lips against his own shuts him up fast and leaves his mind spinning and his lungs devoid of air.

What?

Why…?

Itadori makes a noise at the back of his throat – soft, questioning, encouraging – and Megumi forgets every reason he has ever had on why this is a bad idea.

He kisses back.

It’s not a desperate kiss. There isn’t a sudden light switch that flips on and turns them into feral horny teenagers crawling all over each other, desperate to touch in as many places as possible as fast as they can. Three points of contact is all they started with and all they still have. Their knees, digging into each other in a way that almost hurts, but the warmth is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Itadori’s fingertips oh, so gently resting against Megumi’s wrist, not even touching skin. And the tentative slide of their lips as Megumi tilts his head and Itadori seems to crack a smile.

Itadori’s lips are chapped, and Megumi can feel the texture of scar tissue as they blindly search for an angle that feels better than the others. It probably wasn’t meant to be a long kiss when Itadori first leaned in, but Megumi can’t bring himself to pull away even though there’s absolutely nothing physically holding him here. The instinct to jerk back with his hackles up is there, just under his skin, but every exhale of Itadori’s sounds like a blissed-out sigh as it shivers across Megumi’s cheeks, and he finds himself more and more willing to just have this.

Itadori is the one to break the kiss, but he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Megumi’s and just breathing into his space. Megumi feels like he just ran five kilometers; it’s impossible to suck enough oxygen into his lungs to stop feeling lightheaded. His cigarette is still between his fingers, slowly burning itself down to the filter, but Megumi has completely forgotten about it. 

“What was that for?” Megumi whispers, eyes flicking back and forth looking for clues in the depths of Itadori’s eyes. It’s an accusation, yes. They could have kept pretending. The pain at the end of this is going to be unimaginable. But it’s also a desperate plea. 

Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t apologize. Don’t say you didn’t mean to.

“I don’t know,” Itadori admits, and that crooked smile is back, perching on his mouth in a way that tempts Megumi to kiss it away. “Good luck? Felt like the right time.”

Megumi drops the cigarette by his foot and moves his hand to Itadori’s face, cupping his cheek and the curve of his jaw. He can feel himself shaking with adrenaline and the fear of an unknown dark path laid out in front of them. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but even he can hear the fondness in his voice. 

“Mhm, yeah, you’ve said that before.” Itadori’s hand covers Megumi’s, and the shaking subsides. “But you kissed me back, so what does that make you? Reckless?”

“Insane,” Megumi offers, just to hear Itadori laugh. He isn’t expecting the second kiss that follows, but he’s glad for it, anyway.

It’s funny, he thinks, even as he pushes a little closer and sighs into the shape of Itadori’s mouth, that regardless of the church behind him, regardless of the temples he has walked through time and again, regardless of the habits he hasn’t broken of prayers during the new year in exchange for fortune slips that hold no merit to him – despite religion flowing in and around his life, there is no higher power in the universe he believes in as much as he believes in Itadori. 

If anyone can defy fate, if anyone can push through to the other side of certain tragedy, it will be Itadori. 

Start by saving me, he had said, and this isn’t exactly what Megumi had meant. But his chest is warmer than if he had tipped back some sake, and he certainly feels like he could face down a special grade curse and win right now.

They’re not going to have forever. They may not even have twenty-four hours.

But they have tonight. They have right now.

“You better not die tomorrow,” Megumi warns, just barely breaking away enough to speak.

Dying alone is all but a guarantee for jujutsu sorcerers. One day, one of them is going to leave the other behind, and it’s going to rip the survivor to pieces and scar like a phantom limb. Even without a confession, their feelings have splattered like a hemorrhaging wound onto the staircase between them. No amount of backtracking, of lying, of pushing each other away could mop it up now – they’ve left a stain, and their hands are doomed to always have each other’s blood caked under their fingernails.  

“Would be a shitty good luck kiss if I did,” Itadori says before leaning back with a smile as broad as the sky.

Megumi pushes him away with the hand on his cheek, and Itadori’s laugh overtakes the crickets and the wind and the far-off traffic as he pulls himself back into Megumi’s orbit with their fingers tangled together.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #jjk fic #itafushi fic #this is going up on AO3 as well probably as soon as i think of a title for it #3.2k of pining and longing and denial and - finally - acceptance #I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE AAAAAAA #just take it i cannot keep staring at it #my fic

[frog-man-moments]

Villain agent 8 au

(this is my silly little idea for a villain agent 8, i have been talking to @flamingskull28 about it and he even gave me a couple of idea's for the au so major thanks to him)

During the fight with smollusk, smollusk in an effort to turn the tides of battle aims for an weakened agent 4, which ends of killing her. .This sends agent 8 into a frenzy which leads to her mostly destroying smollusk in a fit of grief.

After escaping the memverse agent 8 locks herself away as she is unable to comprehend four's death. Marina and pearl are the ones who have to deliver the bad news to the NSS, all of them are distraught but this news hits marie the hardest alongside eight, as marie always viewed four as their child . However while marie accepted and grieved fours death, agent 8 was unable to process it. Eight could not accept four's death and just kept denying and denying until she had an epiphany, the memverse had the power to mess with souls, eight began to wonder what else the memverse could do.

This line of thinking brought her to wonder if she could use the memverse to bring back agent 4. She brought this idea up to marina however she told eight that she believed eight should accept four's death and to try to move on, unsure if resurrection could even work. This caused eight to go behind marinas back to try and execute her plan. 8 begins to study souls in hopes of finding a way to bring four back. This causes damage to the souls she's studying and makes marina get involved. Eight falling into madness didn't care, all she cared about was getting four back.

Eight brainwashed marina to get her out of the way and to get her help. 8 also kinda blamed marina for fours death for creating the memverse and smollusk in the first place. Parallel cannon in this au is eights first attempt to bring four back. It looks exactly like her but grey and emotionless. It hurts eight to see this thing and puts a mask on it in order to not see its face.

Eight's attempts to bring four back is causing four pain in the afterlife. Four even temporarily contacts eight to tell her to stop because shes hurting her. However eight does not listen deciding four doesn't know what's good for her.

Eight eventually discovers a way to bring four back. In order to bring a person back it requires hundreds of souls to be sacrificed in order to bring a person back. This ritual is very painful for the person being brought back.

It ends up being marie who has to climb the tower to take down eight as see can relate to being hit very hard by fours death. she is accompanied by callie drone.

There are 3 possible endings for this au

Good ending: marie takes 8 down and drags her our of the memverse. Eight ends up getting help to process four's death. fairly simple.

Resurrected good ending: eight is successful in bringing four back but is still taken down. four is mortified by what her lover has done. hundreds of people are now souless and she was dead and brought back. four breaks up with eight which breaks her even more(she does get better)

Resurrected bad ending: eight brings back four and kicks the other agent's out of the memverse. She creates and ai to wipe her and fours memories every couple of years and to create adventures for her and four to enjoy. She and four go on adventures for a while unaware of everything that happened. until the NSS enter the memverse and stop the temporarily ai and bring back four and eights memories. 8 and 4 are overwhelmed by the past. Eight is horrified by what shes done while four is trying to comprehend the fact they died and came back to life. they have the option to either go to the real world or continue living the lie

#agent 4 #agent 8 #agent 32 #agent 32 villain au #marie #mom marie #callie #splatoon #frog-man posting #splatoon side order #smollusk #splatoon 3

[akookminsupporter]

I'm a diff anon, but:

"Okay, but I don't understand why this ended up with BTS being dragged into a mess that has nothing to do with them in the first place? This started with the lady from the coup, right?"

Yes. In short, HYBE ordered an audit on ADOR because they found proof that MHJ and a man planned to make ADOR a separate company, Mhj and the man talked with shareholders to try to get them to back them(ador) up so they can leave hybe. This is how it started and then later on a bunch of other stuff came out.. Reddit has master posts of this, you can find them if you want to read more about it

So after the news came out about the audit, she started responding to it, she claimed hybe copied newjeans to make Illit, she claimed that she was promised to debut hybe's first gg but they debuted le sserafim first instead, she implied that she was in a slave contract. So she namedropped 2 groups first. And then somehow some article reported that she went to a shaman to discuss BTS' enlistment and when they would go and so the shaman could make sure they really go? The last part is a bit confusing because idk how a shaman could make them go but yeah. And that's how BTS got into the picture. She later basically admitted this by rambling about how this shaman is just a friend of hers who just happens to be a shaman.

"Why did BTS end up being the bad guys again?"

Because nothing unites kpop fans more than hating on bts. BTS genuinely didn't do anything, kpop fans just started hating on them for no reason and they kept making tweets about "xy group disbanded because of hybe"

"It makes sense that BigHit decided to hire an external legal team instead of using HYBE's or even their own agency's."

In my understanding, they hired this external legal team or set up this law firm to deal with the hate campaign against Bts. There are a lot of conspiracy theories going around rn, about BTS/hybe being in a cult and K-pop fans being kpop fans and bringing up everything they can about bts' past. So I think this second legal team is just for the BTS issue so that the hybe legal team can fully focus on bringing mhj to court. Again, this is just how I interpreted it.

Hello, anon. Thanks you as well for providing a bit more context on everything that's going on. If you don't mind, I have a few things to comment on regarding what you said, and also, I have a couple of questions that I hope won't offend anyone:

1. Regarding the accusations made by that woman about copying NJ: why did she say that? I don't know much about that group, but a girl group in K-pop isn't something new, right? The concept isn’t that… new, I think? And their sound isn't so... unique? From what little I've heard and some comparisons I've seen. Is the new group exactly the same, or what? Does NJ have something unique that can be easily identifiable if someone copies it? And that’s why she said that?

2. She was promised that she would debut the company's first girl group: okay, they didn't do it, and? From what little or much I've read about what this woman has said, I've concluded that she's a tantrum-throwing and pretentious person who cries when she doesn't get what she wants. You know who she reminds me of? Veruca, the character from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

3. The shaman thing is complete madness and it’s probably the comedic contribution to all of this😭.

4. The obsession of Kpoppies with BTS should be studied. I can bet that not even the biggest stan in the fandom is as obsessed with them as Kpoppies are. If only they put as much effort into supporting their favorites as they do into hating BTS, they would help them rise above the mediocrity that many are in. At least in terms of sales, streaming, charts, etc., with the quality of content they put out, there's not much they can do.

5. Ahhhh, your explanation about the external legal team makes sense, but at the same time, I wonder if BigHit does have its own legal team, and if it doesn't, I wonder why.

#ask #anon #bts #bts fan opinions #Preg 197 #Kpoppies