#like dude— most of the time I like just twirling them around my head like little ocs in my noggin

[crustycrackhead]

StarHalo is literally when two knights duel: one is honorable and and one would throw dirt in the other’s eye to gain an advantage. Also they’re sweating and covered in blood.

#starhalo #Clay rambles #qsmp #sweet duo #I’m gonna die on this hill #but also like… q!Bbh being so annoying is sooooo he makes me wanna pull out his horns but ZAMN HE’S SO GOOD AT BEING A RAPSCALLION #I say annoying in like positive way btw if you even care cuz I love annoying people so much #like he’s so homestuck troll core if you know what I mean #but anyways that one person taht said the Griffindor and Slytherin analogy is so right for that #THATS THEM?!?? #like dude— most of the time I like just twirling them around my head like little ocs in my noggin #cuz… they’re yuri to me. in my heart of hearts they’re not toxic codependent yuri like 4 halo but a secret third option of rival yuri #rival yuri of the 2 where they start of as a duel but turn a claw filled battle rolling around in mud

[joonipertree]

Gang Leader Girlfriend Things™

Tags: Mikey x Fem!reader, Fluff, crack, no angst, he's only soft for you <3, love of his life

You know, I think the first rule of joining a gang should be 'don't piss off the leader'. Like, you wanna fight people who can whoop your ass? Go for it, that takes courage and respect. But you join a gang like Toman with 'Invincible Mikey' as the head, the one thing you should probably not do is make him mad.

(Nobody is stupid enough to do that though, much less Toman.)

Mikey personally didn't fight the weak, finds no joy in something that isn't a challenge. Two highschoolers that got recruited by Mitchy's crew? He could tell they were nothing from the back of their babbling heads.

"My god, there's no way a girl like that is here. She's so fucking hot."

"What's a girl even doing in a gang? There's no way she fights."

Mikey's eye twitched. Not only are you most definitely in Toman, with a gang jacket and everything (You had your own but you ended up wearing his most of the time, pretty in what's his.) One of Toman's strongest was Senju, someone who would kick their ass too.

"Do you think she's single?"

"She is not." Mikey drawled, eyes dead and head tilted. Draken came behind him, wondering why his captain was just standing there. Mikey was always friendly with new members but very evidently, those two were an exception.

"What a bummer. She could've been mine."

Draken wanted to laugh so badly but Mikey's hand was warning him into silence before he could.

Mikey couldn't see the dude's face but knew that he was too ugly for you. You weren't into pathetic fucks. And the only person Mikey was pathetic for, was you.

A lot of gang members' eyes were on them now, ready to bow to their captain but stopping when Draken raised his palm. They could tell something was off, looking at the two kids who just didn't bother turning. The aura around Mikey was practically tangible though, suffocating to anyone who took notice.

Yamagishi staggered towards his friends, ready to point out the very dangerous threat behind them. Of course, he was the one who recruited them. If he wasn't Takemitchy's friend, Mikey would've added him to his blacklist. Mikey's finger against his lip kept Yamagishi from saying anything. Their fates were sealed already.

"Man, I could probably take her boyfriend on. Easy win and I get her."

Draken choked, Yamagishi wanted to die, the few people who were close enough to listen stepped away. Mikey still didn't say anything, because the moment he was waiting for finally happened.

Chifuyu had let you know of the arrival with a nod of his head, pausing in his rant about a manga you guys had been reading. You saw Draken's head first, eyes lowering, knowing that Mikey would always fall close. And there he was, his blond ponytail the only thing you could see. Your heart filled up like it always did because fuck, you wanted to consume him in your love. His eyes peaked out and your smile stretched your cheeks.

You walked as if on auto pilot, feet having a pep in them as you did. He stepped out in full view and you squealed at his gentle eyes and outstretched arms. You practically ran to him, you missed him and missed him and missed him.

Your shoulder grazed someone's as you zoomed past and launched yourself into Manjiro's warm embrace. Strong arms encircled you immediately, his cheek squishing against yours. And before you knew it, your feet were off the ground as he twirled you around. Unabashed laughter left your lips, hanging onto him and letting his warm and wet kisses pepper your face. The swooping in your chest was welcomed, clinging to the boy you've loved for years. Your precious----

"Hi, Jiro~" You crooned, eyes open to catch his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.

He put your feet on the ground and pulled you close by the waist, noses touching each other's.

"Hi, baby." He said in a hushed voice.

You gave his cheek a peck, knowing one on the lips would result in him not getting off of you. There was supposed to be a meeting, so you decided to have him later. Being a gang leader's girlfriend was hard work.

"Did you have a good day?" You asked, knowing he woke up an hour ago, barely in the realm to text you a 'good morning, honey' ('Morning' in Mikey's realm was 1pm).

"Mhm." Mikey hummed, giving your cheek a kiss too. You relished in it.

"Where are you going?" Draken's voice came gruffly and you saw the tall man with his hands on two members' shoulders.

Your boyfriend's gaze fell on them, hardened and cold. It made you shiver, his arms tightening around you when you did. It didn't scare you, he looked hot but it never meant anything good.

You blinked at the two boys, confused and just now noticing the complete silence and the eyes of everyone on you.

I mean, you were a spectacle whenever Jiro was involved but weren't they used to it by now?

"You guys have really bad awareness if you didn't notice me even when I spoke up. I don't know if we want that in our gang." Mikey's words were sweet but dripping in venom, a grin to hide his clear rage.

"I'm so so sorry, boss! We didn't know she was yours, I swear!!" Dude no 1 got on his knees immediately, more so because his legs gave out.

"It's our first day, please have mercy." Dude no 2 shouted, bowing till his head met the floor.

Oh, you thought, they were actual idiots.

Seeing people bow and beg at your boyfriend was always surreal. You knew he had repertoire and respect because of years of being a gang leader. Personally, you never really understood gang things tm. But you knew your Mikey could kick ass and people looked up to him, so you always enjoyed the times he did gang leader things tm cuz it was hot.

"Yamagishi, you recruited them so you have responsibility. Have anything to add?" Mikey asked the frozen boy, who probably stopped breathing a long time ago.

"Uh, it was Takemitchy's idea?" The boy said, knowing who Mikey's kryptonite was.

"You're the one who asked me. Don't try to get me killed along with them!" The acting president hollered.

Mikey turned to his best friend, smile still plastered on his face. If Takemitchy didn't have the trauma to back up his biggest endeavour, he would be worried that the dark impulse would've possessed him from that interaction alone.

"Mitchy, normally I would let the head captain step in for any decision made about their division. But since they directly challenged me, we have to deal with it like all gangs do, right?"

"We didn't....we didn't know, promise!" Dude no 2 peeped out.

"Hmm, but wasn't it you who said that you could take her boyfriend on? It'd be an easy win? There's enough people who witnessed that."

"Oh, Lord Almighty." Takemitchy murmured, "nothing can save them now."

"Not even an hour in and they're going to die." Another murmur from the crowd. (It was Ran)

"I never said that, I am not a part of this." Dude no 1 threw his friend under the bus immediately. It was understandable.

"'She could've been mine,'" Mikey practically sang, taking off his jacket, "is what you said, right?"

"No I couldn't," you spoke absentmindedly, only looking at your boyfriend cuz you'd lost interest in the morons, "you're too ugly for me."

It was a blow that hit almost as hard as the kick they were about to receive. Mikey let out an affectionate snort as he covered your head with his jacket. The heavy material blocking your peripheral as he left your side within a second. A sick crack brandished the air, followed by two thuds.

"Welp, that fight didn't last. How boring, wanted to show off." Mikey sounded bored, the asphalt crunching under his slippers as he walked back.

"Are they--" Takemitchy's panicked pitch followed, a very common tone whenever Mikey was involved.

"Breathing." Draken called out, giving them a light kick on the side to check.

"Takemitchy, your crew is banned from recruiting." Their leader yelled back with his head only half turned, a flurry of 'yes sir!'s came.

"Thank you for holding onto my jacket, baby." Mikey whispered as he took the jacket off your head and draped it on his shoulders. His eyes were back to being kind and gentle, warm hand cupping your face in gratitude. You melted into him, eyes closing. He left a kiss on your forehead, keeping you close.

"Ah, I'm hungry," he whined, "let's go get mcdonald's. I didn't eat breakfast."

"You didn't?" You asked as he interwined your fingers together and tugged.

"I had cereal but that barely counts." Mikey started chattering on, waving a hand to dismiss the meeting that never began.

#tokyorev headcanons #mikey headcanon #tokyo manji gang #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x you #mikey imagines #mikey x reader #mikey x you #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #tokrev mikey #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey fluff #mikey x y/n #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #toman mikey #bonten x reader #mikey x reader text #x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev manjiro #tokrev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #fluff

[reveuse-de-minuit-writer]

Knockout (Toji x Sukuna x AFAB Reader)

Summary:

Reader is invited to an underground fighting ring and manages to catch the attention of the two most dangerous men there. Theirs is a world of brutality and carnage, and all the reader wants is to explore how deep the darkness goes.

CW: 18+, Violence, blood and gore, explicit rough sex, m/m/f, breath play, overstimulation, BDSM elements, edging, face-fucking, double penetration, squirting, alcohol, weed.

Full tags and complete work on AO3 here: x

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

CH. 1

Two fighters dance in the makeshift ring. The big one, a veritable mountain of a man with a curling top-knot and vicious scar slashing through his left eye, is the first to break their stalemate. 

Instead of rushing his opponent, or doing literally anything that would have made sense in an underground fighting ring, the mountain man begins dancing to the music. His opponent hesitates as they watch him in confusion, before narrowing his eyes in contempt. It’s clear the smaller fighter takes his opponent's interpretive dancing as an insult to his capabilities. 

The smaller fighter charges forward, rushing in close to cut off the mountain man’s odd thrusting and grinding as he dances to a beat in his head. As the smaller fighter raises his fist to swing, the mountainous fighter twirls into a powerful roundhouse kick that sends the other man flying across the ring.

The collision is impactful enough that it leaves a crater in the cement where the smaller fighter's body makes contact. He flops against the cement, and his head bounces with a splattering thud.  

His body goes still. 

The countdown to ten begins, but the only thing that moves is the pool of blood as it grows around the impact zone from the fighter’s head. 

Before the countdown even hits zero, the mountainous fighter is doing a victory dance. He wildly thrusts his hips and twirls around with a genuinely surprising grace given his sheer size. The announcer interrupts the fighter’s dance by grabbing around his thick wrist, and hoists his hand high in the air.

“And the winner is AOIII TODOOO!” The announcer declares into the microphone.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in my ears as they cheer at the mountain-man’s victory. 

“Well that was quite the spectacle,” I say to my friend Shogo to my right. 

He snickers, “Well I can’t say I wasn’t entertained. Twinkle-toes certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“Is he dead?” I ask with a grimace. 

Shogo polishes off the last of his drink before exhaling obnoxiously, “Nah, he’s just out cold. Todo doesn’t fight like that. Dude’s a monster, but he’s too soft to straight up fight someone to the death.”

“Ah, that's good then.”

I take a sip of my cold margarita, and it’s the cooling balm I need against the heat of the arena. The space is small but densely packed, and I can feel the humidity clinging atop my body like a second skin. 

The music that plays is the winner’s choice, and I can’t stop myself from smirking as idol music pours from the speakers into the underground arena.

To call the space an arena at all is generous. It’s really just a basement warehouse, but it serves its purpose well enough. The seats are a mix of metal folding chairs and benches stolen from abandoned stadiums that somehow managed to avoid demolition. There are shipping containers surrounding the walls which people use to sit and watch the fight. Shogo and I have done the same, sprawling out on top of a picnic blanket to cushion us from the cold, corrugated metal. The ring itself is just an empty expanse of concrete indicated only by the ropes outlining its circumference. 

Despite how ramshackle everything looks, two projectors display a live feed of the ring on the wall. They function like the screens in a legitimate arena, and I’ve found myself grateful for them many times already, since the tighter grapples and quick jabs can sometimes be hard to see. The instant replays and fight tracking from the dedicated staff are genuinely very well done for what they have to work with. 

Overall, the arena is not much, but it’s also more than good enough. 

Considering the cash that’s pulled in from each fight, I had expected more. But this is a place people pay to watch fighters get brutalized, not sip their overpriced drinks from their box seats. There are a couple hundred people watching, but the livestreams online rack up views in the tens of thousands easily. That’s where the real money is.

As my eyes scan the arena, I can't help but notice the contrast between Shogo and I and the rest of the spectators. The two six-packs of canned margaritas we share atop our bright pastel blanket stand out amongst the beer cans and cigarette butts. Shogo’s dedication to maximalist street fashion paints a vivid pink contrast to the black cargo pants and combat boots of the male-dominated crowd. 

I’m not much better in my own tight white crop top and black tennis skirt, both of which seem like they would better suit a frat bar than an underground fight club. I brought an oversized leather jacket with me to help me blend in more, but I took it off shortly after the second fight from the sheer heat of the arena. Even without it, humidity clings to my skin like a film.

“Having fun so far?” Shogo turns to me and asks. 

I nod my head while taking another sip of my margarita. The alcohol has me pleasantly buzzed. I’m just floating on a happy cloud, as I sit back and wait for the next fight. 

“Yeah, a lot of fun. You’re right, this is way better than the pay-per-view,” I answer. 

“Right? Like you’d never get to see a guy kick someone so hard they fucked up the concrete. That was crazy,” Shogo says. 

I hum in agreement. 

“That was pretty gnarly. I didn’t even think it was physically possible to do that. The Todo guy must be like one of the strongest men alive,” I say. 

Shogo snorts. He opens up his phone and opens up the arena’s private discord. His feed is a frenzy of jokes and commentary, most of which are memeing on Todo’s eccentric dance moves.

“Nah, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just you wait,” he says. 

“Who’s up next?” 

“Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito. That’s the fight I wanted you to come here to see,” Shogo says. 

I recall how he even sold the experience to me in the first place. I had just started taking up boxing classes, and it exposed me to martial arts and fighting in a light I’d never considered before. I had fallen down into the rabbit hole of a new obsession, watching videos of fights, both professional and amateur, until it took up most of my free time. 

I knew Shogo shared the interest. When he offered to take me to see a fight in person, I couldn’t turn him down. He had warned me that this would be different. That it would be more violent, and more ruthless than any legal fight I’d watched. If anything, that warning just made me more intrigued. 

So far, the fights were intense, but not any more so than what I can find on YouTube. While Todo possesses a strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen before or thought possible, he didn’t do anything with it that would have broken the rules of a UFC fight. 

Still, I find myself wondering just what kind of monstrous power the next two fighters must have, in order to make a mountain like Todo seem like fodder. Shogo doesn’t make claims like that for the sake of it, and my mind races with the intrigue of it all. 

“Anything I should keep an eye out for, or know ahead of time about their fight?” I ask Shogo. 

“Oh my god yeah, where do I even begin?” He says animatedly. 

“Give me a quick rundown from the start. Go,” I snap my fingers into a finger gun, and take an expectant sip of my margarita. 

“Okay so basically, Toji is one of the most powerful fighters in the game right now. Like I’m talking top three easy. He’s been fighting professionally for like fifteen years and has been undefeated for all those years except for once. Like I’m talking thousands of wins against one singular loss. Which is an insane feat in of itself, right? The dude is basically a legend around here. Everyone either wants to fight him, or wants to fight like him.

“But Mahito is new to the scene. He just kinda popped up outta nowhere about a year ago, but he’s been making big waves ever since. Like, the dude is certifiably crazy. On some real psycho shit. But he’s also insanely creative when it comes to his fighting style, which makes him unpredictable to fight and fun to watch. While his record isn’t as impressive as Toji’s, he’s still stupid powerful. He’s risen up the rank of fighters faster than anyone has ever seen before. He fought Todo, the guy who just won, about six months ago, and wrecked him so bad that Todo had to take four months off to recover.”

I process all of the information Shogo gives me. The thought of someone not just winning against Todo, but forcing him to take that much time off to recover, is nearly unthinkable to me.

“So basically it’s the veteran versus the newcomer, huh?” 

“Yeah exactly,” Shogo affirms, “but that’s not all. About two weeks ago a video got leaked on twitter of Mahito essentially talking mad shit about Toji, calling him washed up, a has been, too predictable, shit like that, you know? Basically said that everything Toji can do has already been seen and done before, and that he can take him no problem.”

“How did Toji take that?”

“Toji doesn’t normally do the petty drama thing. He just shows up, fights, gets paid, and leaves. So after a week went by and he didn’t say anything, everyone assumed he was just gonna ignore it. But then, outta nowhere, a video pops up on twitter like three days ago, and it’s Toji at a shooting range with a picture of Mahito’s face on the target. He said some cold shit like ‘a bad dog is better off dead’ or something like that.”

Shogo’s excitement as he explains the drama is infectious, and I’m already invested. I also appreciate how closely he’s followed everything, since it makes the anticipation for the upcoming fight that much sweeter. 

“Well shit. So this fight is going to be intense, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be crazy.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“I put three hundred on Toji, so he better win. He’s got 7:3 odds right now, so I’m not that worried.”

Shogo slurps messily on his drink as he drains it dry. His thumbs idly scroll through the discord, before he tilts his phone towards me. 

“Here’s the video if you wanna see it. The guy with the silver hair is Mahito. The rest are all members of his team. The dude with the dark hair, Geto, is his manager. There’s a shit ton of drama involving him too, but I can tell you all that after the video.”

Mahito surprises me. He doesn’t look how I imagined the man who won against Todo would look. He’s lanky, despite his obvious musculature, and has an almost childishness about him. Though the arena is loud, I can just barely hear the sounds of the video. Mahito’s crass remarks are intercut with sadistic giggles, and it makes my stomach turn sour. Scars lacerate his body in a patchwork fashion, making his skin look like it’s been sewn onto him. He looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie more than a fighting ring. 

But there’s also something decidedly off about Mahito. His cheeks spread wide in a child-like grin as he talks about how he’s going to kill Toji. His mis-matched eyes glitter in excitement as he shares his murderous fantasies of dismembering him and studying the inner workings of his organs. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.

The video ends abruptly, and Shogo takes his phone back. 

“I was debating rooting for him because I love a good underdog story, but after watching that,  I think I’m team Toji,” I say. 

Shogo snickers, and continues to scroll with his thumb through his feed. 

“Yeah, no kidding. The guy has a super punchable face.”

“Maybe that’s why he got into fighting in the first place,” I quip, before my curiosity gets the better of me, “What was the drama with the other guy?”

“Okay so the full backstory begins with Toji and this guy named Gojo. Gojo is, without a doubt, the strongest fighter in the world, no cap. Like legit or otherwise, professional or amateur, it doesn’t matter. If you put him in the ring, he will win every single time. Only one other guy is on his level, Sukuna. He’s not called the King of Fighters for no reason. But he’s not relevant to the story, so put a pin in that for now. 

“So about ten years ago, Toji challenged Gojo. At the time, Gojo was just a teenager, and had only been on the scene for a year, but he was sweeping everyone he came across, kinda like Mahito. Even still, everyone bet on Toji to win, since at the time he was about five years deep and undefeated. And the first time they fought, Toji did win. He beat Gojo so bad the kid nearly died. But like a week later, Gojo pops up out of nowhere and challenges Toji to a rematch. Everyone thought he was insane, since he hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries yet, but Toji agreed to it. In the rematch Gojo clapped his ass so hard it was devastating. Like Toji got beat so bad he was declared legally dead before they were able to revive him. To this day, it’s still the only time Toji has ever suffered a loss. 

“So obviously he didn’t take it well. He lost out on millions in bets, and nearly lost his life. He’s had a grudge against Gojo and anything even remotely related to him ever since. 

“The reason why this is all relevant, is because Geto, Mahito’s manager, was best friends with Gojo at the time. So because the two were besties, Toji fucking hates him. Even though the two aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter. Since Mahito is being represented by Geto, and the circumstances are kinda similar, it’s safe to say that Toji was out for blood before the video of Mahito talking shit ever leaked in the first place.”

My head buzzes with this rush of new information. There’s so much lore to process, and it gives me a deeper appreciation for what will certainly be a monumental fight. The tension and electricity in the air suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

“Wow, who knew there was so much drama in the fighting community?” I say. 

Shogo slurps on his drink and nods. 

“Tell me about it.”

“So have Toji and Gojo ever talked about a rematch?” I ask. 

“Honestly I don’t know. It’s just kind of low-key understood that a match between Toji and Gojo would just end up in Toji losing again, since Gojo became an absolute monster after that. That fight is where he got the nickname the ‘Strongest Fighter’ from. Also, Gojo doesn’t fight much anymore, since there’s no one on his level good enough to challenge him and keep him interested.”

“What about Sukuna? Didn’t you say they were equals?”

“Yeah. Sukuna and Gojo have been talking about fighting each other forever, but no one knows if or when it’ll actually happen. Sukuna still fights occasionally, if he thinks it’ll be worth his time, but he’s good friends with Toji so it’s unlikely a fight between them will ever happen.”

I sip on my drink and think everything over. I had no idea there could be so much history in the scene like this. 

“Next up, Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito! The fight will begin in five minutes!” The announcer calls.

His voice booms around the empty warehouse, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I had brought some earplugs. 

Shogo mutters a brief ‘aha’ before tilting his phone towards me.

“Here, this is Toji’s response video that I mentioned earlier,” Shogo says, before handing his phone to me entirely. 

I press play. Toji’s back is towards the camera, and the immense sprawl of his muscles which strain through the clingy black t-shirt he wears makes my pulse pound. He might as well not be wearing it at all, for how little it hides. It wraps and contorts around every single well-defined muscle in the man’s torso.  

He’s enormous, with impossibly broad shoulders made to look wider by the narrowness of his waist. His sweatpants are baggy and sling low on his slim hips, but they still can’t hide the firm swell of his ass. 

His shaggy black hair covers his face from view. His stance is casual. He leans forward into his hip, which draws attention to the dramatic s-curve of his spine. One thick arm relaxes behind his back, with his fingers splayed wide. His hands are enormous, and serve to make the glock he’s holding look like little more than a child’s toy. 

The man had a body made for sin. Holy shit. Even without seeing his face, I’d let that man rail me into next Tuesday if he so much as asked. 

“What d’you do to a rabid dog?” Toji asks over his shoulder to the camera man. 

His voice is low and resonant. Even despite the low volume, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Six shots fire off in rapid succession, and Toji doesn’t even budge from the recoil. His gun smokes as the clip goes empty. The camera pans from Toji to his target at the end of the range, before zooming in. 

A picture of Mahito’s face covers the target’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t seeing the bullet holes carve out a perfectly punctured ’T’ into the picture. 

The camera pans back to Toji, who keeps his back to the camera. He raises the gun to his mouth, and blows out the smoke still coiling from the barrel of the gun. I can just barely see the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar that bisects the side of his mouth. 

“You put it down,” he smirks. His voice is deep and husky, and the sound makes my skin shiver. 

Just as Toji starts to turn towards the camera, the video cuts off. 

“Holy shit,” I say. 

It’s all I can say. Because my pulse is racing, and my head is spinning, and my face flushes hot when I realize I’m dripping wet. 

“What’d you think of that?” Shogo asks, and plucks his phone from my hands. 

My fingers tremble slightly now that I no longer have anything to hold onto, so I reach for a new can of my margarita to still them. 

“I think he’s so hot it’s stupid,” I say shamelessly. 

Shogo laughs hard enough that a few of the other spectators turn towards us in mild interest. My face flushes hotter at the attention, and I gulp down a few sips of my drink. 

“I figured you’d be into him. Bad boys with more muscles than sense have always been your type,” Shogo giggles. 

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a string of my previous partners comes to mind, and I close it once more. I really can’t argue with that. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” I sneer at him instead. 

I cross my arms across my chest and pout. 

“Yeah, but I also like the good girls, so it all balances out to neutral. You’re just a freak,” Shogo laughs. 

My glare at him is venomous, but it just makes him laugh all the more. Eventually he raises his hand in a sign of surrender. 

“Simmer down, girl. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ a lil freaky,” he snickers. 

I throw an empty margarita can at his head, which he slaps away with a snicker. It falls to the ground beneath the shipping container we sit on. 

I think nothing of it, until I hear a loud, angry “What the fuck!” cry out from beneath us. 

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with panic. Swallowing past the lump of nerves in my throat, I tentatively crawl forwards to peer over the side of the shipping container. 

Right below us is the makeshift VIP section, with couches, bottles, powders, and more strewn about everywhere. There’s about ten people sitting around in total, all watching as a person with a short blonde bob angrily wipes down their shoulder. 

The can must not have been as empty as I thought. 

Mortification burns through me alongside an immediate pulsing fear. 

I’m so never getting invited back. 

If there’s any kind of crowd I don’t want to piss off, it’s this one. 

“Sorry,” I meekly call out to them down below. 

A few heads look up in my direction at the sound of my voice, and my face flushes hot under their scrutiny. 

But I can feel the weight of a gaze settle heavy over my skin, prickling it into goosebumps. My eyes sweep over everyone, trying to find the source of it.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The person shouts back. 

I ignore them.

One figure in particular, a large man with his hood pulled low, stares upwards at me. Him. I can feel him watching me, and I shiver where I kneel, and my hands grip tight onto the edge of the shipping container below me. 

I can just barely make out the sharp cut of his jaw, and the strange tattoos that frame it. He says something to the crowd around him. Everyone else laughs, except for the unfortunate victim of my drink who stomps their foot in frustration. I can see just enough of his jaw to watch the cruel smirk that forms on his lips.

Despite his joke to the crowd, I feel that his eyes never leave me. 

The sounds of the arena seem to go quiet as all of my focus narrows down to the stranger below. 

My instincts scream at me that I need to run, and I need to hide, because I’ve caught the attention of a predator, and I don’t want to give him the chance to pounce. My blood rushes in my ears, and sweat beads atop my body.

But the weight of his stare holds me captive. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch as his tongue traces along the lush swell of his bottom lip, before he flashes his sharp canines in a menacing grin.

I flush red hot, and a corresponding throb pulses deep in my core. 

The arousal I felt watching Toji’s video is a catalyst for my body now getting overtaken with lust. Molten heat liquifies my veins, and the headiness of the alcohol buzzes through me in a lethal combination. 

Mortified by my body’s reaction, I crawl quickly back to the blanket next to Shogo, breaking the stalemate between the stranger and I. As I collapse beside him, I shiver at the adrenaline that courses through me. The primal, instinctual part of my brain screams that I’ve just barely managed to escape, and that I’m not safe yet.

Shogo, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just snickers at me as I flop onto my back next to him and bury my face in my hands. Without opening my eyes to look, I lash out and smack him on the arm.

“Nice one,” he snickers. 

“Fuck you,” I grumble. 

My threat is muffled by my hands over my face, but I don’t care. I’m too busy focusing on breathing like a normal person and commanding my body to calm down from the sudden, roaring height of its arousal. 

Any response Shogo says is lost on me as all of the lights in the arena go dark. Loud bass pumps through the speakers, and I can feel it vibrate and rattle in my chest. 

Pushing aside my feelings, I allow myself to get caught up in the mania. The crowd around us roars in anticipation, and I join in, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting into the blackened air. An electric tingle of anticipation starts to brew in my blood. I feel breathless, and I smile into the darkness.

This is so much fun. 

The music cuts out. A singular beat of silence, suspended in the darkness, rings out across the arena. 

The music blares back in with the full power and sound of the song. The lights turn on, and the ring is illuminated in bright, harsh spotlights. A man towers tall in the center of the ring, with his identity obscured by the black hood pulled low over his head.The crowd goes absolutely feral, but I freeze.

Oh fuck me sideways.

It’s him. The same guy from below who made my pussy drip from the force of his stare alone. 

The microphone he holds in his hand looks tiny, and I am surprised to see that his nails are painted black. He just stands there, basking in the attention and suspense of the crowd. 

My eyes trail up and down his body. Now that I can see him more clearly, my walls clench fruitlessly around nothing. The black hoodie he wears is strained tight against his broad torso. His dark jeans cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. He must be another fighter, with a physique like that.

After a beat, he raises a painted hand to his hood. Instead of pulling it back like I assumed he would, his hand continues to rise until it grabs ahold of the fabric on the back of his neck. In a singular fluid motion, he yanks the hoodie off entirely. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Shogo yells next to me. 

Holy shit indeed. 

The man that stands in the center of the ring exudes power and confidence. He looks lethal, with his tight, rippled abdomen, full pecs, and broad shoulders corded with thick, deadly muscles. The tattoos that decorate his skin are thick, black, tribal lines that seem to carve out a path that accentuates the lines of his body. His messy hair is a bright pink, with a dark brown undercut. He smoothes his hair back with a painted hand and a sharp grin.

The tattoos continue to outline his face, curving along the harsh cut of his jaw, slashing across the bridge of his nose, and inking his forehead between his dark brows. His eyes glint with a dark promise, and the smile that broadens the man’s mouth is nothing short of sadistic.

The guys in the arena are obviously not good men. It takes a certain kind of person to want to fight so extremely, and to be so entertained by it. But as I watch this man raise his thick arms high into the air around him, basking in the feral cry of the crowd as it screams for him, it is obvious that he’s different. 

He’s even worse. 

After a minute of taking it all in, he raises the microphone to his sharp mouth. The dark chuckle that fills the air makes me shiver and my nipples tighten. I feel a throb deep in my core, and I squirm atop the firm ridges of the shipping container below. 

At the sound of his dark laughter, and before he even gets the chance to speak, the crowd is roaring again, showering him with even more praise and adoration. The man’s grin grows wider, and his sharp teeth glint malevolently beneath the harsh spotlights. 

“Alright, shut up you brats,” he growls into the microphone. 

I’ll be damned if the dark sound of his voice doesn’t make me quiver. The crowd dies down, obeying the command of the dark god before them. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He jokes.

The crowd goes wild again, and this time a masculine chant booms in the air.

Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na!

So this is Sukuna. 

The King of Fighters himself. 

He raises one hand high, effectively calling for silence. Immediately, everyone goes quiet. The man’s command over the room is absolute.

“I was worried that it’s been so long that I might have to introduce myself, but I see now that’s no longer a problem,” Sukuna smirks. 

There’s a cold mockery in his tone that betrays just how much he revels in the crowd’s adoration. His dark eyes scan across the crowd as he basks in the wild roars that fall around him.

“I have a surprise for you brats,” he taunts in a sing-song voice. 

I can feel the exact moment that his eyes make contact with mine.

I’m flung from my body. The air freezes in my lungs. The sounds of the crowd go quiet except for the ringing in my ears. My vision narrows down to just the outline of his body. That same force keeps me still, and my instincts are once again screaming at me to hide. His gaze is unwavering, and I am exposed before him.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna purrs into the microphone.

Shivers sweep down my spine, and I flash hot. I bite my lip hard, genuinely afraid that if I don’t, I might moan.

Holy shit.

The crowd roars around him, but it's lost on me entirely. I can’t see or hear anything outside of the tension that sizzles between us like a live wire. 

“Tut, tut, tut. I asked you a question, brats,” Sukuna snarls, and his eyes darken as they glare at mine.

While I know he says it for the crowd’s benefit, my arousal drips out of me at the sound of his scolding. His piercing eyes flash with a dark promise, and the look he levels towards me is nothing short of commanding. 

His threat is clear. 

“Let’s try this again,” he purrs, before pulling the microphone in closer to his mouth than before.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna roars. 

The sound of his voice is monstrous, and tinged with something entirely animalistic. If I thought the roar of the crowd was loud before, then it is absolutely nothing compared to the fervor of it now. 

Those same prey instincts are going haywire in my blood, and I can scarcely breathe for how tight of a grip my adrenaline has over my body.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and burn in the heat of his stare, as I whisper, “Yes.”

Sukuna’s eyes grow dark with heat and triumph. 

My core throbs low, and the persistent ache of emptiness sweeps through me. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he snarls. 

His dark eyes finally leave mine, and it’s like I collide back into my body with a visceral force. Sensations flood in from all around me at once, from the sheer volume of the crowd, the stifling heat of the room, and the absolutely drenched state of my underwear. 

Immediately, heat flushes my cheeks. I’ve never reacted like this before. Though I don’t smoke anymore, I find myself itching for a cigarette. And another margarita.

“The lovely event organizers and I decided we wanted to make things a bit interesting,” he begins, a sadistic enjoyment sugaring his dark tone, “so to shake things up a bit, whoever wins this next fight, either Toji Fushiguro or Mahito, will get the honor of fighting me in two months.” 

“Oh my fucking god!” Shogo cries out. 

Based on what Shogo had told me earlier, I now know that this is a big fucking deal. The crowd absolutely loses it. 

“So with that out of the way, let’s get this thing fucking started, yeah?” Sukuna says, rallying the cry of the crowd once more. “May the best fighter win.”

With that, Sukuna passes off the microphone to the announcer, and prowls back out of the ring. My eyes are glued to him as he ducks beneath the rope of the VIP section. He stands a clear two heads taller than the crowd of people parading around him and clapping him on the back. Even surrounded by other fighters, he finds a way to make them look small. He takes a seat back on the couch, and reclines back like a king in his throne. 

The announcer picks up Sukuna’s hoodie, and tosses it over to him. Sukuna catches it with a one-handed grip, and my eyes dance over every ripple of muscle that flexes and pulls from the simple display of athleticism. 

Good fucking god, I need to get a grip.

“Let’s give it up one more time for the King of Fighters himself, Ryomen Sukuna!” The announcer cheers. 

The crowd roars again, and my eyes remained fixed on the man as he flashes yet another sharp grin at the never-ending adoration. 

He doesn’t demure from the praise, he basks in it.

“This headlining match is sure to be exciting folks. But first, what does every good fight need? The fighters themselves!

“First up, we have a prodigy in the making. Standing at five feet and ten inches tall, and weighing one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, we have the scrappy underdog from hell itself, MAHITOOOOOO!” 

The crowd cheers as Mahito appears from the right-hand side of the ring. He all but skips to the ring itself, and the camera man tracking him stumbles after him. 

His team is standing just off to the side of the ring, and I recognize them from the video that Shogo showed to me. Mahito is as energetic as a kid with a sugar rush, as he bounces restlessly on the balls of his feet. 

Once more I’m surprised by what Shogo said earlier. Looking down at him, it’s hard to imagine him beating Todo so easily. His body is long and lean, and while muscular, he’s nothing compared to the solid mountain of the other fighter. But clearly his looks are deceiving.

“Next we have the legend himself, undefeated to all but one over the span of his decade-and-a-half long career. Standing at six feet and three inches, and weighing two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds, we have the fighter killer himself, TOJIIII FUSHIIGUUROO!” 

Whatever adoration rained down on Mahito, it pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd for Toji. I have half a mind to cover my ears to spare them from taking further damage. It’s clear who is the crowd’s favorite. 

Toji Fushiguro stalks towards the ring from the left with a predatory grace. He looks even more monstrous than in the video, and it’s clear that it didn’t do him justice. He wears a white hoodie that’s unzipped down the middle, baring his taut, cut abdomen for all to see. His white athletic shorts strain tight against his thick thighs, and curve along the swell of his ass. The tension in his muscles is coiled tight. With his unwavering focus narrowing down to Mahito across the ring, I can all but taste his lethal hostility in the air. 

When he reaches the ring, he pulls off his hoodie with short, aggressive pulls. He is every bit as impressive as his stats make him out to be. The breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist are nothing less than superhuman in their proportions. His arms pull and flex as he balls his hoodie up and tosses it carelessly to the side. There’s a massive scar that carves a jagged arc into his left side, and it spans nearly the entirety his torso. It’s a gruesome scar, and I wonder what gave it to him. 

His messy ink-stained hair falls sharply into his eyes, but I can see the animosity burn in them all the same. His sharp jaw is clenched tight with tension, and the veins in his throat pulse visibly. His own team is speaking to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. His glare hasn’t moved once from Mahito, not even as the other fighter begins to prance around his side of the ring, hyping up the crowd even more. 

The projectors display closeups of the fighters faces, and the contrast couldn’t be more clear. While Mahito performs, Toji waits. There’s something about the dynamic that makes my blood race. Blown up large against the wall, the burning hatred glinting savagely in Toji’s dark green eyes is blistering.

My instincts scream that Toji is lethal and dangerous and absolutely terrifying. I almost feel sorry for Mahito, for having incurred the wrath of this god amongst men so completely. 

My pussy is screaming too, but for a different reason entirely.

The two fighters are called to meet together in the middle of the ring. Seeing them stand opposite one another makes the fight seem simply unfair. Toji glares down at Mahito like a lion staring down an ant. Mahito remains unintimidated, and smiles up at Toji with a wicked gleam in his mis-matched eyes. I try to remind myself that despite appearances, the fight is more evenly matched than it seems. 

The hatred that flows between the two sparks and crackles in the air. The tension is thick enough to make my breath catch. Almost absently, I crawl to the edge of the shipping container and sit there instead. I hear Shogo shuffle to copy me, equally as entranced by the anticipatory hostility brewing between the two fighters as I am. 

I can’t fucking wait to see it snap. 

The announcer claps both men on the shoulder, before stepping back to the edge of the ring. 

“No rules, no limits. First fighter to score a knockout wins!” The announcer declares.

The two fighters step back and slip into their fighting stances. 

Mahito stands unusually, with one arm ahead of him like he’s reaching out towards Toji, while his other hand balls into a fist low by his hip. His legs are bent low and spread wide, and he looks very much like a coil, ready to spring. 

Toji’s stance is also unusual. His legs spread wide, but he doesn’t squat as low as Mahito. His torso curls forward, with his arms wide around him, fists ready for the fight. There’s a confidence in the way that he stands that borders on arrogance, and the sight of it makes me fucking leak. 

“Begin!”

The two fighters are a blur of movement as they dash towards one another with tremendous speed. Mahito is the first to swing, but Toji is faster, and counters the swing with one of his own. His fist lands solidly in the center of Mahito’s chest, and the fighter goes flying backwards from the force of his punch. Mahito lands hard into the concrete below, and blood sputters from his mouth, drooling onto his chin.

Mahito is only down for half a second, before he staggers to his feet. A grin splits his cheeks, and the sight of his blood-stained teeth is chilling. He giggles, and bounces on his feet, before springing towards Toji. 

Toji lets Mahito dash in close. As soon as Mahito goes to throw a punch, Toji moves in a dizzying blur of speed around the other fighter, pivots quick on his heel, and sends a powerful kick to the back of Mahito’s skull. 

Mahito stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, and blood immediately begins to darken his silver hair. Still, Mahito giggles at the impact, and shakes his head back and forth. Blood splatter flies everywhere around them. Toji interrupts by rushing up behind Mahito’s exposed back, wraps a thick arm around his neck, and pulls Mahito back into a tight headlock. 

Mahito’s face turns red, as his hands claw and scrape at the thick muscle of Toji’s arm. Toji’s other hand curls into a tight fist and pummels blow after blow into Mahito’s ribs and kidneys. 

Blood sprays from Mahito’s mouth, but he keeps grinning, regardless. The pain he’s in must be tremendous, but he takes all of Toji’s blows with a smile. 

Mahito drops his body, deadening his weight against Toji’s chokehold. Toji leans down lower to compensate for the sudden increase in weight. Mahito uses this to his advantage, and springs backwards, sending both Toji and Mahito falling hard to the floor. Toji ducks his head inwards to prevent his skull from being shattered in the cement, and pulls Mahito in tight by the hold he has on his neck. 

With a sly smile, Mahito reaches into the pocket of his shorts.

My blood runs cold. 

In a flash, he pulls out a pocket knife, flips it open, and thrusts it upwards, stabbing into the arm wrapped around his neck. 

Toji’s eyes widen, and he reflexively releases his hold just enough for Mahito to squirm free. Toji’s hand grabs ahold of the handle of the knife and pulls it out of his arm, while Mahito flips over and moves to straddle Toji, pinning him to the ground. 

Toji just laughs, and dexterously twirls the knife in his hand. Mahito swings down hard at Toji, who manages to duck his head out of the way by a millimeter. 

A sickening crack echoes though the arena. I wait for Mahito’s bloodied hand to emerge, destroyed by the impact of his fist on the concrete floor. But Toji rolls the two of them over fast.

My jaw drops.

A fist-sized crater shatters the concrete at the site of the impact. 

What the fuck?

Did Mahito just punch a hole into the concrete? 

I don’t have the time to process the tremendous power I just saw. Instead, my eyes are glued to Toji straddling a squirming Mahito, with the knife trapped between his teeth. He storms down a rain of powerful blows directly into Mahito’s face. The first punch shatters bone, and blood spurts all over his knuckles. Toji’s smile at the sight is carnal. The second impact is more devastating than the first, and teeth fly from Mahito’s mouth.

It goes on like this. Hit after savage hit. Blood paints Toji’s hands crimson. His inky hair clumps down over his manic eyes. There is no thought behind them except for the predatory gleam of bloodlust. A sharp grin twists his scarred lips around the blade of the knife, and there is not a single doubt for how much Toji is enjoying himself. 

Mahito has finally stopped laughing. His head lolls back into the concrete, and his body goes limp. Toji grabs ahold of Mahito’s hair, and yanks his head up, continuing his assault on the unconscious man’s head. 

“Time!” 

Toji’s fist crashes down into Mahito’s face one last time before he leans back. His large chest heaves from a mixture of exertion and bloodlust. Sweat shines on his skin, and the blood splatter trickles in rivers down the contours of his body. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, and the sweat and blood fly around them. 

My thighs clench, and I want to lick it off of his skin. 

Toji spits the knife out onto the floor beside him. He leans his head back, and his triumphant smile into the air above is nothing short of beastly. 

With Toji’s head leaned back, he doesn’t see as Mahito’s fingers twitch towards the knife beside them. Once his fingers wrap around the handle, he flies forward in a sudden vicious arc that slashes upwards at Toji’s torso. 

“Gotcha!” Mahito giggles. 

Toji reacts quickly, to the sudden motion of Mahito below him, but still manages to get caught along the top of his right pec. He wraps a thick hand around Mahito’s wrist, stopping the knife from doing any further damage. With his other hand, he fixes a firm grip around mahito’s shoulder, and with a savage twist and brutal cry, he tears his arm back. 

Blood spurts like a fountain, painting everything in a sea of red. 

In Toji’s hand, he holds the severed remains of Mahito’s arm, torn completely free from his body. 

Mahito’s screams echo in the cavernous room. He squirms from beneath the bulk of Toji’s body, flailing his remaining arm against Toji’s thick thighs in an effort to get free. 

It reminds me of the dying throes a rabbit caught between the teeth of a lion. It’s a last, desperate attempt at life when he knows it’s coming to an end. 

Toji grabs the knife from Mahito’s severed hand, then tosses the limb carelessly to the side. He twirls it around once more, before viciously plunging it down into Mahito’s torso. With a ferocious smile, he licks his lips, then starts carving into Mahito’s chest.

Mahito’s screams cut off abruptly. The absence of it echoes just as loudly. 

When he’s done, Toji leans back onto his hips, and appraises his work with a sadistic grin. He raises the knife to his mouth, and his tongue licks along the side of the blade. He smiles at the taste, before plunging it down into Mahito’s head, right between his brows. 

Toji rises to his feet. He towers over Mahito’s dead body. Power and aggression pour off of him in waves. His grin is absolutely feral, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. He wears the other man’s blood like war paint. 

He picks up Mahito’s head, and with one hand, he dangles his body upwards for all to see. 

What remains of Mahito’s torso is mutilated by a crudely carved letter ’T’. The roar of the crowd is animalistic. Men holler and cry out into the air, pounding their fists to their chest and stomping their feet on the ground. Toji holds the body aloft for a few more moments, before throwing it carelessly back to the ground. 

He steps back to the center of the ring. The announcer trembles forward. He stares at Toji with wide fearful eyes, before gingerly grabbing ahold of the fighter’s thick wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises Toji’s arm high in the air. 

“And the winner is TOJIII FUSHIGUROO!”

My blood rushes in my ears, and my lungs constrict. Any alcohol in my system has all but evaporated, and I’m stone-cold sober. The primal energy storms around me, and my body tingles with the electricity and the adrenaline. My instincts are quiet, and I fear its silence more than I feared when it was screaming at me earlier. My mind is blank, but my body burns. 

I just watched a man die. 

I just watched Toji Fushiguro kill a man. 

And yet. For reasons that defy logic. For reasons that make me want the earth to split open beneath me and swallow me whole.

I am undeniably, irrrefutably, achingly aroused. 

I’m trembling from the force of the heat that burns inside of me. Absently, I grab my drink and chug it all down in one go. It dribbles down my chin and into my shirt, but I don’t care. I wipe carelessly at my mouth with the back of my hand and take in deep, greedy gulps of air when it’s done.

Toji’s team wipes him down, cleaning off the other man’s blood. I can’t process it. Mahito’s team walks away, with Geto yawning as he exits the ring. I watch as some of the event staff approach Mahito’s body, pick him up, and carry him out. Two others immediately start wiping down the area, scouring the concrete for every drop of blood. 

After a moment or two, it’s like there was never any blood at all. 

I watch as Sukuna saunters up to Toji and claps him on the back. The two men standing together look like giants surrounded by ants. I watch idly as they converse, and my heart stutters at the wide, sharp grin on Toji’s scarred lips.

I need to calm down. Now. 

My skin prickles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breathing stops, and my blood sings. 

I can feel them looking at me. 

I know it like I know my own name. 

I drag my unfocused eyes from the fist-sized crater in the ring, over to where the two men stand speaking. 

Heat burns in my veins, as my eyes lock on to Sukuna’s. 

Adrenaline pumps my blood fast, and all at once my instincts are screaming at me again. 

Run. Hide. Escape.

But I’m frozen. I can do nothing more than return his stare. Sukuna nods his chin in my direction while he says something to Toji. The fighter turns to look over his shoulder, and his sharp green eyes seek out mine. 

Oh fuck me. Fuck me sideways to hell and back.

The combined weight of their stares makes me tremble. Toji’s eyes light a path of fire as they dip to my legs and trail upwards along my body. His look is like a physical touch along my skin and it makes me shiver. My arousal drips out of me, and I press my thighs together tight. Sweat tickles my spine as it runs down my back. Toji turns back to Sukuna. He says something which makes Sukuna laugh, and my cheeks flush with heat and shame. 

They’re laughing at me. I’m certain of it.

What pricks.

My anger breaks me out of my trance, and I jolt back to life atop the shipping container. Shogo has begun packing up our things and stuffing it into his backpack, all while feverishly scrolling through the discord. 

I’m sure the live chat was going crazy after watching Toji Fushiguro brutally murder a man. 

I spring into action in a dull haze, helping Shogo pack the last of our things, before scaling down the ladder to the ground below. My body moves on autopilot.

“That was fucking insane,” Shogo says.

His thumbs are furiously flying across his keyboard, and I know his attention will be preoccupied for a while. 

“Yeah, that was crazy,” I agree. 

I’m surprised I can even speak, and that my voice sounds this strong.

“That wasn’t even a fight, that was a massacre,” Shogo continues, his voice filled with awe.

I hum in agreement. 

I was wrong before. Very wrong. Toji and Mahito were never evenly matched to begin with. 

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need a drink. Actually, scratch that. I know I need a drink. Several. You game?” 

I let out a hollow laugh. 

“Yeah, lead the way.”

“Yo, Shogo!” A voice calls out. 

We both turn towards a man jogging towards us. He has a shaved head and ink covering every visible inch of his dark skin. The piercings in his lip shine as he smiles at my friend. 

“Oh shit, Rocco! Good to see you, man. I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Shogo smiles back. 

The two embrace, before Shogo turns back towards me. 

“This is my best friend y/n,” he introduces. 

Rocco nods his head in greeting, and his smile is warm and inviting. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, while extending my hand out for him to shake. 

He takes it with a grip as warm as his smile. 

“Rocco. It’s a pleasure. Any friend of Shogo’s is a friend of mine,” he says before he turns back to Shogo. “Say, we’re all gonna go over to The Alley Cat. It’s a bar about two doors down that way. You tryin’ to grab drinks?” 

Shogo looks at me for approval, and I shrug. 

We were planning on getting drinks either way, and it didn’t matter to me who or where we got them from as long as they were strong.

“Yeah, sure, why not. We’re were just talking about it anyway,” Shogo agrees for the both of us. 

“Cool. If you wanna give me a second to grab my stuff, we can walk over there together,” Rocco says. 

We follow Rocco as he leads us to his things, and I can’t help but watch as the two boys animatedly talk over the details of the fight. I don’t mind stepping back from their conversation, as my brain still feels like it’s only operating at half-speed.

I blame that for the reason why I don’t realize he’s leading us back over to the VIP section until he’s stepping over the ropes. 

My heart pounds as the realization sets in, and my eyes frantically scan the crowd inside to look for that signature pink hair. 

I try everything in my power to ignore the sting of disappointment I feel when I realize he isn’t there.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #toji x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #toji x sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #1st person #jjk fanfic

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

i am back with a wholesome scenario for our boys! (shoutout to my bestie for helping me with this)

so we know that scent glands and biting bond marks can help alphas calm down, yeah? well, i think they also have little fidgets that they do if they feel too overwhelmed/stressed to bite or scent (nobody did this right?)

i think jing yuan and blade would be the types to stare at their partner’s hand bc they want it in their hair or to mess with their mate’s rings/jewelry, 100% can see jy as the one who hides in the crook of your neck or between your shoulder blades while hugging from behind

welt would keep touching his glasses or twisting his cane in his hand, and would probably want to lay his head in his mate’s lap to get his hair played with

luocha, we genuinely have no ideas for bc he probably would just be like “i want attention bc i don’t feel good” or just would suffer in silence until his scent soured so bad to the point his mate was like “dude wtf happened to you? you were fine like .2 seconds ago”

- messy nest + friendo

These are so cute! Messy nest tell friendo thank you for the ideas too and also welcome to hsr omegaverse hell :Dc

cw: omegaverse

I can't get the image of Blade and Jing Yuan being like "Plz pet" as they stare at their omegas hands!

Blade

Playing with his omegas hands while they sit on his lap or rest beside him. The combined warmth of their hands and the difference in how smooth their hands are compared to his is a nice stress reliever. He'll also do it slowly taking in each segment of their hands and following veins and or life lines of their palm.

If they wear any jewelry on their hands or wrists he's fiddling with it, spinning them around, gently tugging it.

Would like his omegas hands in his hair if he's going through a pretty rough time as his hands aching but he still wants some stimulation. Head massages are a definite yes, he might even purr quietly.

Jing Yuan

Uses his omega's lap the most out of any of them he loves how comfortable they are as he rests his head. Enjoys having them comb through his hair with their fingers or brush it for him, puts him to sleep every time. Scratch his scalp and he'll melt.

Definitely buries his face in between their shoulder blades as he uses them as his personal teddy bear. Though it's not as much as it would be if he had his face in their chest he can hear their heart and their breathing which soothes him.

If his omega has any jewelry on them, earrings, rings, necklaces, you name it he's playing with it between his fingers. Loves to gift them jewelry that has varying textures and moveable parts for this purpose, besides knowing it'll look great on his omega of course.

Welt

Another who likes to have his hair played with and rest his head on his omega's lap. Open to head massages and scratches, either will do but massages are best on the days he's got a headache.

Runs his hands over textured surfaces with dips and groves like his cane. Might even begin twirling a pen if he's got one or fiddling with the edges of any book he's reading for stimulation. Adjusts his glasses multiple times and even takes them off to clean invisible dust from them just so he has an excuse to mess with them even more.

Out of all of them he's the one who asks his omega for comfort only after trying to soothe himself first. Though his omega may figure out he needs comfort after seeing him adjust his glasses for the 5th time in 3 minutes.

Luocha

Doesn't want to bother his omega to comfort him as he's more used to looking after them rather than being looked after himself. Will try to resolve his discomfort by himself or keep it bottled up. His omega will be shocked when they catch his scent souring though so he let's them know pretty quickly after that.

It takes a bit of time but eventually he learns to be more open with his needs and let's his omega know, should they not be busy of course, that he needs some comfort. His omega is very willing to being used as a pillow by him or even hold him rather than be held.

Being held by his omega is a great source of comfort for him, if they brush through is hair during it it'll soothe him even more. He'll bury his face in their neck or chest and just listen to their rhythm.

#honkai star rail a/b/o #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #welt x reader #luocha x reader

[phenomenalgirl9]

Yeonjun x Reader: Thrill ride

Summary: You're the head of one of the most feared mafia groups in the town, along with your Racer boyfriend. Just a drabble with this scenario.

A/n: Happy Birthday 🎂 Yeonjun 🎉 the loml. This one has been in my drafts forever, thank God I completed in time lol.

W/c: 1.6k

_____________________________________

"Yeaaah" you cheered as you watched Yeonjun zoom down the track leaving the challenger far behind eating dust. You cocked an eyebrow and side eyed the chick that was accompanying him, where the smugness now?, You thought. With ease Yeonjun touched the finish line and stopped the bike and you walked to him, intertwining your hands behind his head as he pulled you close by your waist. You heard yelling and turned to find the losing biker grumbling. He rushed towards Yeonjun, pushing you away, but you reacted just in time and held his hand, immediately twisting it behind his back. Your assistant Ryujin pulled out her gun and pointed at him. He froze.

"You thought you could touch my boyfriend in front of me?" You said now turning him as your men walkin to hold him. "Take him away and put him on the banned list, also find his whore and do the same'' you said and walk to Yeonjun. "Are you okay?" You asked, "I should be asking YOU that!" He said "I've told you I can fight" he pouted. "I know you can fight, but I don't want you to," you said, kissing his cheek. "You get ready for the next set, I'll go check with a few VIPs okay?" You informed him and walked away with Ryujin at tow.

_____________________________________

It was after two more races when Yeonjun finally sat down to rest for sometime. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm. "Hey" a coy voice said, "sorry, why are you here?" He said flinching away. "Oh don't be like that, I could give you a better night than that harsh girl friend of yours" she said looking at him with fake coy eyes while she twirled her hair.

"You know you really shouldn't be doing this" he said, plucking her hands off himself gingerly and stepping back. "Leave me alone." he said and was about to turn around but the girl touched his shoulder and stopped him, and before he could react. The sound of the safety of the gun was heard and a cold metal touched the back of the chick's head.

"I thought he asked you to back off. Hands off my man bitch" you said. The chick stopped in her tracks and cowered in front of you as you put the gun back and signaled the security to take her away. "You do know you're free to leave if you wanna" you said shrugging, looking down. "Where would I go without you?" He said and wrapped his arms around you. "Dude, no company would hire you for racing. You're an exceptional engineer and mechanic" you said, trying to hide the pain it took to say these words to him. But he must know you don't wanna hold him back. "I don't even want to," he said, rocking you in his arms. An idea came to your mind as you smirked and asked. "You. Want me to show you?" He asked.

⚠️smut⚠️

He took your hand into his and pulled you to your trailer that was parked by the side and pulled the door close shutting it. "Fuck" you say and crash your lips onto his, he tasted of fresh mimt and your strawberry lipbalm (that be steals often). Watching him all dressed up in this tight suit just does something to your brain. The kiss got heated as he slid his tongue into your mouth and fought for dominance. You grabbed him by his collar and pulled you as close as possible by your waist. He pulled you further inside and pushed you onto the couch. "We have the races going on" you said as he nibbled onto your neck leaving marks and making you a moaning mess. "Then we'll just have to be quick," he said. And pulled down your trousers. "Fuck baby you're so wet" he moaned massaging you aching core over the cloth of your panties. In a single move he pulled them down as well. You see him quickly pull out his hard member and before even giving a warning he rammed it all the way in, making you jolt. He rammed into you, as you grabbed his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

"That was so hot out there" he mumbled into your ear. "You see what you do to me without even trying. Only you. That's all I want. Don't you dare to ever think otherwise" he said. "Ah- Jun-Jun- I'm-" you whimpered. "Together" he said and so you did, you lied breathless as Yeonjun rode the two of you through your highs.

⚠️smut end⚠️

_____________________________________

"When will you come back?" Yeonjun asked you, pouting. "I'll come home as soon as I'm done with the meeting. Why aren't you going to the garage today?" You asked him and he shook his head, "I don't want to, beside there's no need all the deliveries have been done it's a slow day" he said. "Call me if anything is up" you said and kissed his cheek. "Be careful," he said. "It's just a meeting," you said.

_____________________________________

"Are you missing your pretty little assistant?" came the voice. Indeed neither of you had seen Ryujin since the morning and her phone wasn't reachable either. "Wtf? Whoever you are. If you hurt her-"

All your staff looked at you in alarm. You signaled them to clear the room. Your security personnel Taehyun and Chan looked alarmed.

"I have no interest in hurting this pretty little thing. Cancel the deal and come and get her alone. She's dead if you don't maintain either of the two" they said and an image was sent to your phone, it was Ryunjin. Tied up to a chair, passed out.

"FUCK!" you cursed and took one of the cars alone and left for the area they had sent the coordinates of. "Don't follow me," you told them and left.

It was in the outskirts of the town and of course secluded. You stepped out of the car and walked into the building, of course it's an abandoned factory, how cliché can these bitches be. Suddenly you felt a hit on the back of your head and everything went black.

_____________________________________

"What?! And you let her?" Yeonjun exclaimed. "We can't talk over the boss or not obey her. So we came to you" Chan told Yeonjun. "She even took a car without trackers," Taehyun said, panicking. "Tracker!" Yeonjun said and pulled out his phone. "Please Y/n don't switch it off" Yeonjun said as the application loaded. "Please, please" he said tapping into his phone. "YESS" He said and showed the location to Them. "Let's go," he said, grabbing his bike keys. "No. No. No." Chan stopped Yeonjun, who immediately glared. "We can't lead you into danger, Y/n would kill us" Taehyun said. "Either I go alone, or you come with me" he said, locking the phone, "that's my girl's life on the line" he added. So the three set off for the location.

_____________________________________

"The fuck do you rascals want?! Bloody bastards can't even face me head on!" You cursed as what looked like henchmen sat in front of you. You hoped that by now your personnel had figured some kinda plan out because you didn't think twice before jumping into the situation.

"Did you think you could just walkin here and get away with you little bird so easily?" another voice said from behind and Kwak Dongyeon stepped in front of you. "So it's your doing. What else do you want, I even gave you the shares you wanted" you said. "You think your petty shares can make up for my father's death?" He said bitterly. "Your father killed My dad! I brought him to justice, if he decides to suicide in the jail, that wasn't my fault! I! I made sure you and your mother are taken care of! You ungrateful bastard!" Your berating came to a halt when a crash sound was heard. Immediately bullet fires were heard, and three very familiar men rushed in. There he was your knight in shining armor or more like a shining leather jacket. Rushed in. The moment his eye fell onto you his features hardened. He kicked and disarmed and injured (making sure not killing) the men who tried to guard him as Taehyun and Chan made way for him.

"Fuck!" Dongyeon cursed, you quickly kicked him with the leg you had been trying all this time to free without these idiots noticing. You quickly grabbed the knife out of that boot with a little struggle, and freed yourself. In a moment the other three were by your side as Chan held the now silent Dongyeon on his gun point.

"Don't!" You said as you freed Ryujin who was unconscious. Taehyun picked her up, and you turned to say "set him free. I cut ties with you, the money of the shares will reach your account and I am done with you." You said and walked away.

The moment you left the building you were pulled in a hug. "Thank God you're okay!" You heard Yeonjun mumble. "Thank you for working your brain, but" you pushed him away and hit his chest, "why would you throw yourself at the face of risk like that, these two were more than enough to take down those clowns" you said, he held you neck and pulled you into a kissed a brief one that left you wanting more and he said "I know you'd do the same. Besides, nobody touches my girl" as he climbed his motorbike revving the engine alive and you climbed on, behind him.

_____________________________________

Other work

Send an ask to be tagged or for requests.

#imagines #txt au #txt imagines #txt boyfriend #tomorrow x together #txt x you #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x you #txt smut #happy birthday Yeonjun

[crystallizedkingdoms]

TAZ NC: Forget

Avi’s memory fails for the first time.

wc: 1,210

you can also read this on ao3 <3

my first fic for @taznovembercelebration. twirls hair. I’m most likely gonna be veryyyy inconsistent (aiming for Sunday, Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays but no prommy) and very likely gonna be pretty johavi centric so well theres that. but it’s okay it’s gonna be very fun yayy!!! yippeee! Enjoy 💖💖💖

Memory falters on the third anniversary of the Day of Story and Song. 

Avi’s memory was far, far too good on the first anniversary. Every single memory seemed to plague his mind that first night, his voice stuck in the cracks of his broken heart that no amount of drink could fill. The second anniversary went much, much better, as Magnus dragged him out of the house to enjoy the musical festivities celebrated all in Johann’s— his  Johann’s— honour.

When the third anniversary comes around, Avi’s in his home, but there is no drink in sight. The living room window is open, sunbeams and symphonies from a nearby celebration fill the house with music and life. Avi hums along to every note, all of it memorized so deeply he’s convinced that each piece has been etched into his soul. Avi sits down on his chair closest to the window and lets his eyes rest. The afternoon festivals tend to be a little too happy than what Avi is ready for, so instead he waits by the window, listening to the sounds of bards trying their best to match Johann’s greatness.

Avi’s hums verberate in his chest. He follows along with one piece, the closest to him, and matches along with every note possible. This piece, oh how popular it’s gotten, is one that Johann had written after Magic Brian had died. The rumours surrounding the piece have been strange, and it was one of the first things to make him laugh in his first year of depression.

“…Can you believe they think it’s some secret love song you had for him?” Avi whispers. To nobody, to somebody, but not to everybody. “It’s a little funny, honestly. I’m not mad. You’ve written plenty enough cheesy love songs for him that I can actually make fun of you for. No need to make up another one.”

It’s kind of an embarrassing habit, Avi knows. Gods forbid anyone, especially Magnus, heard that he still falls into this little spell of talking to a lover who’s no longer here. Avi wouldn’t hear the end of it. That’s why he reserves it for quiet days like these. Alone and loving.

Avi strains his ears and listens. One, two, three… there! “Hah. They always fail on that one, you know? Yeah, you probably know. You probably get pissed about it all the time up there. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to show off all the time, even in your intimate compositions.” It’s a silly jab, he knows that Johann wasn’t necessarily showing off. He was just that good, in private and in public. There was no need to pretend he wasn’t.

Still, Avi loves to poke fun at him and the performers. That connection, however frail, is easy and hard to forget. I mean, come on, it’s impossible to forget their banter from back then. It’s Avi’s own little form of song, something so unique to them that he remembers it like the back of his hand. Johann says something serious, Avi teases something about the way it was said or why Johann said it, and Johann would quip back. 

Avi tries to imagine what Johann would say in response. 

Not my fault they can’t reach my fucking level. 

Wow. That sounds… weirdly mean. No, no, Johann wasn’t that rude. How silly.

I wasn’t showing off, dude. And it was barely intimate. 

Ugh, no. Johann didn’t sound like that. He didn’t sound like that at all. Did he?

Avi feels his heart pound in his chest. 

Hah, right. I think it cements my place as the best violinist ever. These guys can’t match my level if they tried, 

That felt more right, but the voice in his head didn’t match. Johann’s voice was deeper than that? But, no, it wasn’t too deep. And it couldn’t have been that monotone, right? 

Avi’s eyes open and he straightens up on his seat. The music from the outside world becomes loud, far too loud, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear it. He can’t hear it. How could he stand to hear it, when he’s struggling to hear his boyfriend’s voice clear in his mind? Why couldn’t he remember what Johann really sounded like?

Avi. His own name. Avi would remember what Johann saying his name would sound like, right? Avi, Avi, Avi, Johann would always say his name like that, under his breath, like it’s the most important word in the world. Avi imagines it in his head, and he thinks that’s it. That’s Johann’s voice. No need to worry, he’s still there. Avi hasn’t forgotten Johann.

…but the inkling of doubt clouds Avi’s mind like a familiar static.

Avi stumbles out of his chair. He reaches and shuts the window closed again, and suddenly, the thought of ever opening them makes him feel sick. Avi casts away any thoughts of music or festivities and he tries to focus only on Johann, Johann, Johann as his hands search his living room. His brain scrambles to pick up each and every memory of Johann, searching deep for the memory of voice. Yet every memory sounds slightly different. Some sound completely stranger to him. Some sound almost like a parody of what Johann must have sounded like.

Avi opens the junk drawer of a console table. His hand dives into the garbage of years well-lived until his fingers grasp a smooth, round object. He picks it up with trembling hands. Shortly after the Day of Story and Song, Lucas Miller had created small copies of a device that recorded the knowledge sent out by the Voidfish. Including the bard’s final inspiration. 

He had sworn off of using it during that second year, after he listened to it nonstop during his first year of pain. Avi wonders how terrible of a mistake he has made. Avi clicks the button right in the middle and his pounding heartbeat roars in his ears so loud that he worries he won’t hear Johann’s words. But they shine through. They always do. 

“You’re going to have to fight. And… you’re gonna win!” Johann’s voice pierces through the silent room. Avi’s breath hitches in his throat. He has a low voice, as Avi remembered, but has it always been as deep as that? His voice is passionate, as all were on that fateful day, but even then his distinctive flat tone gives him away. The voice is so familiar, yet jarringly surprising to hear.

How could Avi forget Johann’s voice?

“Oh, Johann,” Avi cracks. Tears swell up in his eyes with no second to recuperate. He presses the button once again, and he listens to Johann’s voice. His heart aches to remember every single little inflection in every syllable, every tone, until Avi could never forget it again. How could he forget it? When all that Johann ever asked for was to be remembered, his boyfriend can’t even fulfill that only three fucking years later— 

Avi pulls the device to his chest and sobs. “Johann,” Avi cries out. Repeating his name and pressing that button over and over and over and over again. Until it drowns out any piece of music in remembrance of Johann that plays outside. Until memory falters, and an obsession relapses.

#taz november celebration #taz nc #taz balance #taz avi #taz johann #johavi #my writing

[spicysix]

🔀 stargyle (if you’re still accepting these <3)

yes i am! thank you for sending ♡ i got Butter by BTS

ooohoho so i'm thinking spicy six get-together and they're all a few (a lot) drinks in and so they start talking about their love sex lives and steve's bragging on and on about how he's the best flirt, that people fall to his feet all the time and robin and eddie are begrudgingly agreeing because they go clubbing together and steve always has a line of people wanting him and he never leaves alone. steve's like "yeah i treat them right y'know can't help it i just got it" with the most ridiculously smug smile. jonathan looks at nancy who just shrugs and robin points it out that steve was able to make nancy 'cool head' wheeler fall for his harrington charm so there's no arguing there. and jonathan's like, ok nancy's a big one but it's not possible that you are able to just make everyone melt and steve's like "bet" so jonathan looks at argyle who's on the armchair just smoking his joint and watching the whole banter with a soft smile. argyle's the chilliest dude there is. he doesn't yearn. he doesn't pine. things like that are simple for him, jonathan's seen him getting it time and time again and he might get a little nervous sometimes but he goes straight for the prize and his sincerity always makes him more attractive to people (cue to argyle's soft smile turning into a funny smirk and his eyebrow rising as jonathan is so very adamant in defending his chilliness... no one else notices, but eddie thinks that's Suspicious). so anyway jonathan dares steve to make argyle lose his shit with the harrington charm, is so sure steve can't do it and steve's like "you're gonna eat your words byers"

long story short steve spends the next two weeks wooing argyle in every way he can, brings the harrington charm to a top level, stuff no one's seen before, the best dates he can come up with and. it really is kind of hard, he hates to admit it. but argyle is always so casual about stuff. he nevers turns steve down and he compliments his efforts but it's really so different than the infatuated responses steve's used to

so the next biweekly spicy six get-together comes around and jonathan asks steve for his results and steve's shoulders drop and he looks down ready to be humiliated when he feels argyle's arms on his shoulder and wow he never noticed how good the guy smells, and is he playing with steve's ear and are those goosebumps steve's feeling? argyle looks jonathan straight in the eyes and is like "my man here won the bet, he's deliciously charming" and steve's never been more confused because he really didn't think it was working, and is argyle lying for him? "are you lying for him?" robin asks because let's be honest she knows everything that happened because steve told her, the boy's ego is crushed. argyle shrugs without taking his arm off of steve's shoulders "nah man i really can look chill from the outside but i was mentally like twirling my hair n shit" he giggles, GIGGLES. steve's going feral. then he turns to steve and jesus christ his face is so close and he looks so pretty "guess i should have my turn to woo you now huh stevie-boy?" with a shit eating grin and steve is fucking red everywhere and eddie is cackling in the background and jonathan and nancy share a funny look as if that has been the plan all along...

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, and i’ll shuffle my playlist and make an au based on the first song that comes up

#lui answers #wren 💚 #i am actually obsessed with this idea..... #stargyle #lui writes

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Three Doors Down

Title: Three Doors Down

Word Count: 11,000

Warnings: Bullying, descriptions of blood, a little bit of a slow start.

Summary: Alright, so maybe pretending to be Jeremy Gilbert's neighbor wasn't all that bad. After all, the kid's gorgeous cousin lived just three doors down. She stutters, but it's kinda cute... || Kol x Disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

A/N: No, I am never going to stop with the disabled fics. Please note that any misrepresentation of Hypoxic brain injury and speech aphasia in this fic was done on purpose to make things clearer for those who are unfamiliar with the condition. Thank you!

"Dude, we can do anything you want, but not before we get some lunch. I swear, if I don't eat something soon, I'm gonna drop dead," Jeremy said, a little out of breath as he tugged his helmet off and placed it back on the shelf. 

"You're worse than me, mate," Kol chuckled. He twirled the wooden baseball bat in his hand and shook his head, pushing himself off the wall. Turning around, he moved over to his locker and opened it up. He messed up on the lock code the first try, not because he was trying to seem more human, but because he simply hadn’t bothered to memorize it and just resorted to listening for the click of the tumblers. No one would be able to tell the difference, however, so like most things, this just served to work in his favour. He stashed the bat and helmet in the locker and retrieved his camera bag, slinging it around his shoulder before closing the locker door. 

Kol Mikaelson was in Denver on his brother’s orders, posing as Jeremy Gilbert’s friend and neighbour from across the hall. He was here to serve as a proverbial axe poised just over the boy’s head so the kid could be used as motivation for a Benett witch to unlink him and his siblings. Kol despised following orders of any kind, even more so when they came from his brother, but he also liked not being dead so self-preservation was trumping his grudges and personal feelings for the time being. Besides, Nik’s doppelganger and her friends had the white oak stakes, and they were in Mystic Falls - easily 1,500 miles away from him - thus he was quite alright with leaving Nik and Bekah to handle that task. That way, if one or both of them messed up and they all died, then that was one less thing for them to pin on him in the afterlife. Anyway, Kol was there playing the part of Cole Mitchell, a British photography student shooting photos for a project about something to do with America and culture and whatnot. Though it had originally been a prop, Kol had actually come to enjoy photography beyond just playing pretend.

Jeremy raised a brow. "And what's that supposed to mean?" He asked, falling into step beside him.

Kol shrugged. "Well, my sister claims my mind is occupied solely with the thought of food, but I think you make me look tame. Do you ever think about anything else?" He teased. Jeremy just snorted, giving his newfound friend a playful shove which he returned in kind, naturally.

"Is this you telling me you wanna pick what we eat?" Jeremy demanded, ducking Kol's attempt to whack him upside the head.

"That is exactly what it is, mmhm," The taller boy stated matter-of-factly.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Okay, then what do you want?"

What he wanted wasn’t exactly something the human would like very much. He would just have to go find himself someone to snack on later.

"I wouldn't say no to never ending breadsticks…" Kol drawled, glancing at the younger boy with hopeful eyes and a cheeky grin.

"No way, man," The younger Gilbert scoffed. "I'm seriously too broke for Olive Garden."

"I'll pay!" The taller boy offered. 

"You don't have a job," Jeremy pointed out.

"Nope!" Kol cheered, flinging an arm around his shoulders. "But I do have two loaded parents who hate my guts!” The dysfunctional family was part of his cover story; no acting required there. “Thus, I get all the money I want as long as I stay far, far away from them. You know what that means?" 

"Drowning your emotions with spaghetti?" The kid guessed.

"Yeah, pretty much."

Jeremy laughed. "Alright, man, whatever you say. Let's just-" Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he stopped. “- Hold on just a sec…” He was staring at something at the other end of the batting cages. His relaxed disposition vanished and the smile on his lips morphed into a thin line. "There’s something I gotta take care of,” He muttered.

Kol stopped and caught his shoulder, frowning. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

The Gilbert boy didn’t answer, he just sighed and shot Kol an apologetic glance. “You know what? Why don’t you just go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.” He started moving and Kol followed without a second thought.

“You look like you’re about to start a fight,” He remarked, trying to hide his amusement at the thought.

“I might,” Jeremy grumbled, his eyes still fixed straight ahead.

The vampire nodded and shrugged easily. “Well, you know what they say. Friends don’t let friends go to prison for assault and battery alone!” That comment earned a huff of a laugh and Kol turned his attention to what the other boy was so focused on.

Towards the other side of the batting cages, there were these three girls all standing around a fourth girl who was clearly their victim. The fourth had her back to a wall and the other three stood one on each side, boxing her in like a pack of hyenas. Though none of them were much taller than the girl they were ganging up on, they each wore these enormous heels that allowed them to tower over the girl in her grey sneakers. Now that he paid attention, he could hear them talking. The voice of the girl that was doing most of the talking - Kol would assume she was the leader - was high pitched and piercing and her tone was sickly sweet.

"You know, I actually really love what you've done with your hair, Y/N," The leader said. The other girl, Y/N, shifted her feet, tugging on the strap of her satchel. She stood sort of curled into herself and her eyes flicked nervously between the three girls as the first one continued to speak. "I mean, I think it looks really cute on you, yeah. Just makes me wonder why you did it." Y/N shook her head, shrugging a little. Kol wasn’t sure why her hair mattered but girls always seemed to make a big deal about stuff like that. "I mean, did you do it 'cause you want attention? I know I’m not you, but if I were then I don’t think I could handle any more than what you have to deal with all the time. Though, now that I think about it, that’s probably not the right kind of attention so, like, is there someone you're trying to impress? Oh! Or are you just attempting to go blonde so you can try and keep with the whole blue eyes, blonde hair, dumb ass thing you got going on?"

Y/N hung her head, shuffling her feet as the girls around her did nothing but laugh. Kol raised a brow and scowled. They  were within human earshot for that last bit, so he had to keep in character, though doing so wasn’t very difficult. For whatever reason, something about the situation just bothered him; he didn’t like seeing the shy girl getting ganged up on. It reminded him a little bit of his own family, and he didn’t like it. Clearly, Jeremy didn't have an ounce of patience for this sort of thing either.

"Well if she's dumb then, man, I'd hate to see your IQ scores," He remarked, comming to stand behind the girl doing most of the ridiculing. The leader turned around with the sort of smile Kol had seen more times than he could count. It probably would have been attractive had he not been able to see right through it. Now he just found it equal parts pathetic, hilarious, and revolting.

"Oh! Hi, Jeremy!" The lead girl's gaze flicked from the Gilbert boy to where Kol stood just behind him and she paused for a moment. Her eyes raked up and down Kol's figure and that smile of hers sharpened. He was used to reactions like hers by now, they amused him. "Who's your friend?" She asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger in an attempt to be cute. He knew exactly what sort of thoughts were running through her head at that moment, he knew the game girls like her loved to play. He could play that game too, and he was much better at it.

"Someone way out of your league, darling,” Kol said, sending her a smile that was all teeth. The lead girl blinked and her smile faltered. She glanced at her little minions, clearly shocked.

"How many times do I have to tell you to leave Y/N alone?" Jeremy demanded, glaring at her. The lead girl recovered and shifted her attention back to him, rolling her eyes with a huff.

"I don’t know, maybe until I see a good reason why I should.” She smirked.

“Oh, I’ve got your reason,” The younger boy sneered, stepping forward. The other two girls took a step back, but the leader didn’t flinch. From behind them, Y/N looked up with wide eyes and shook her head at him frantically.

“What are you gonna do about it?” The leader challenged. “Ya’ gonna hit me?”

“Maybe,” Jeremy growled, taking another step. That was something Kol liked about Jeremy Gilbert, the boy reminded him a little bit of himself. He was an all-or-nothing sort of person and if he was going to confront someone then he wasn’t afraid to take it all the way. Kol, however, was older and he’d been raised better… in a way. He held a hand out to stop the kid.

“You don’t touch a lady, mate,” He muttered, shoving Jeremy back. The lead girl folded her arms and gave a prim little huff. Kol glanced up at her, raising a brow with another very fake, very threatening smile. “That being said, you, darling, are far from what qualifies as a lady and even further from deserving to be treated like one. You are a sad, pathetic little girl who preys upon the weaknesses of others to make herself feel better about her own insecurities. You are terrified that no one will ever have any respect for you and thus cannot stand it when another person has even a little bit for themselves. Now, if you have a modicum of intelligence, I would suggest you go home, rethink your life, and decide to do as my friend says and never come near this lovely young woman again.”

The girl’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then she clenched her teeth and hissed. “Or what?”

"Or I'll fetch an eraser and remove those eyebrows you drew on yourself this morning," The older boy supplied, not missing a beat. That seemed to have an effect. The ugly-pretty girl blinked and tried to hide her complete demoralization with a scoff.

"We-we were just kidding!" She defended. "Don't take things so seriously!"

Kol's smirk grew.  "Duly noted. Have a lovely day, darling." The girl pouted and slunk away, dragging her minions along and he waved at them as they left. It was quiet for a moment before Jeremy let out a low whistle.

“Dude…”

Kol just waved him off. “If there’s anything my parents ever taught me, it’s how to offer an insult. Now, are you going to introduce me to your friend or what?” 

He shifted his gaze to the girl left standing before him. Now that he actually took the time to look at her he noticed several things. The first being that she was beautiful, no question about it. Her’s wasn’t the show-stopping beauty of some, but rather an endearing sort of beauty. It was less something found in her face and more something he caught in her sparkling E/C eyes that gave him pause. Her eyes were deep and soulful and, good Thor, he could stare into them all day. Those eyes were so full of life and enthusiasm that he found himself wanting to smile; he could see why any woman - any person, really - would be jealous just looking at her. 

The second thing he noticed was her heartbeat. Her heart was racing as she now took the time to look at him. The reaction was similar to those of millions of other women when they first saw him, but the expression she wore was completely different. She was smiling, yes, but not in the way he had grown so used to. Her smile was enthusiastic and flattered, though a little bit shy as if she was surprised he could even see her but ecstatic that he could. She smiled at him like he was a dear friend, not like he was an object she was trying to appraise. The cynic in him wanted to call her a fool but, oddly enough, he found himself enjoying the change of pace. 

The third thing he noticed was the crescent-shaped devices perched over her ears. Hearing aids - as they were apparently called. They were bright green and she’d clearly had them for a while, which led him to wonder when she’d first gotten them and why. Although, the scars that caught his eye next led him to believe her hearing loss hadn’t been natural. Whatever the accident had been, he could tell it had happened a long time ago. The scars were pale and stretched from where she’d grown, they crisscrossed her cheek and jaw bone, moving down the right side of her neck where they disappeared beneath her shirt. Yet, they did nothing to mar her beauty. This girl had him looking twice… and that was a first.

“Um, sure.” Jeremy’s voice pulled him back to reality. “This is my cousin Y/N,” He said, gesturing back and forth between them. “And uh, Y/N, this is my friend-”

“Kol Mitchell,” He lied easily, stepping forward and offering his hand. Y/N smiled and took it, but instead of shaking, he pulled her hand to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss against her knuckle. She grinned, and her nose crinkled up in a way he couldn’t help but find adorable, and the laugh she made was more of a snicker than a girlish giggle. She surprised him - another first. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, darling.” Y/N nodded enthusiastically but said nothing. He tilted his head. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

There was a sharp pain sprouting from his side as Jeremy elbowed him in the ribs. “Aheh! Aheh! Shut up! Ahem!” He coughed, trying without success to disguise his words.

Kol shot him a questioning look but didn’t have time to ask. 

“It-it's al-alr-right.” 

The girl was the one to speak. It was strange, the way she said the word - as if she was learning how to say it out loud as she spoke. She nodded and smiled, waving her hand a little in a dismissive gesture. "H-hello, K-Ko-ol. Thank you for… for… uh, for, um…" She frowned and flicked her eyes upward as if trying to remember something. "For-for, um…" She started snapping her fingers. "What-what's the word? Gimme the word." 

"Defending you?" Jeremy suggested.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed. "Yeah, that's it! Thank you for de-defending me. A-and for ke-eeping Jer-rr out of pr-risio-on."

"Eh, it was nothing. What are friends for?" He shrugged. 

"B-bail money," She replied.

Kol snorted, that was actually pretty good. He was surprised by her quick wit because she didn't seem like the sardonic type. "So how exactly are you two related?" He asked, gesturing between them. He didn't actually care, he just wanted to ascertain whether or not the girl was aware of the supernatural. The two cousins looked similar in age, though Y/N seemed just a little older and he knew the Gilbert family had a legacy but was unsure if their sense of duty had spread through the family tree. He thought it unlikely considering how clueless the kid seemed to be, but he couldn't rule it out.

"Uh, on my mom's side," Jeremy answered. 

"Sh-she was my Da-ad's sis-t-ter," Y/N added. Alright, so he would label her awareness as a loose maybe.

"You know what? No, I just can't see the resemblance," He joked. "You're much too gorgeous to be related to him." He jabbed a thumb in Jeremy's direction, simultaneously dodging another jab in the ribs from the same while his cousin just snorted.

"I've seen you," She said. "I-I've seen you places a-and h-here when I'm doing. I-I should - no, uh, I wanted to… I-I wanted to… um…" The girl started snapping her fingers again, bouncing on her heels. "What's the word? It's, um, what is it?"

He frowned. Again, that stutter irked him. Women often struggled to think clearly around him - an occurrence he enjoyed thoroughly - but she didn't seem nervous. A little shy, maybe, but not enough to be stumbling every other word. Then there was her speech pattern. While her voice was pleasant, it sounded almost hampered by something; she spoke in a halting way that put emphasis where it wouldn't typically belong. If he didn't know better, he would have thought her brain and her mouth couldn't agree on what they were trying to say.

"Help? Uh… talk?" Jeremy tried. 

"No, no!" Y/N cut him off. "L-Let me get it! It's uh…" She scowled. "Ugh… it's… GREET! Yeah! I sh-wanted to g-reet you w-when you come, er, came. Your eyes- I saw them a-and th-thinking you were ni-ice. But there's a… there's a…"

"Reason," Her cousin muttered.

"Uh, huh. There's a reaso-on I don't ta-alk to… to, uh…"

"People." 

"To people." Y/N's voice faltered to a whisper and she looked away, fixing her eyes on her shoes. 

Kol nodded. "I see. Darling, not to be rude, but I can't help but notice the way you speak. Am I allowed to ask about that?" He wondered.   

Jeremy shot his cousin a sidelong glance. She smiled slightly and nodded at him. "Um, I don't know what it's called…" He trailed off.

"It's spe-ech a-apha-aphasia. From, uh, from H-Hypox-Hypox-oxia," She told him quietly.

"And what is that exactly?" He wasn't strictly familiar with modern medical terms. 

"Oxy-Oxygen def-deficie-en-ency in-in the brain for an exten-en-ded period-d of time that caus-s-es perm- uh, u-um… perma-perma… um…"

"Permanent."

"Yeah, perma-nent brain d-dam-damage," She admitted in a whisper. So Y/N was like him then, damaged beyond repair. That was something he could understand.

"Yeah." Jeremy reached out and draped his arm around her shoulder, comfortingly. "Car crash. Happened when she was six. Y/N and her mom were driving home one night and a drunk driver ran 'em off the bridge and into the water. A lot like what happened to my parents, 'cept my aunt was able to get out and she got Y/N out, but she'd been under for too long." He sighed. "She ended up with hearing loss too but the doctors said it was a miracle she made it at all."

"Ah, I see." He nodded. The girl just fixed her eyes on her feet ashamedly. Not that there was any reason she should. Losing a part of one's self wasn't something to apologise for, he knew that better than most. "Well, I'm glad you did, darling," Kol said, offering her a small smile. 

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smirked and figured he would try his luck. "May I just say you have the most fascinating eyes I've ever seen?"

Y/N shook her head, blushing and hiding her face in her hair. 

"Here we go again," Jeremy muttered. Kol shot him a cheeky smile before reaching out to touch Y/N gently on the hand. She had soft hands. 

"We were just about to grab something to eat, would you like to come with?" Because he was actually rather enjoying not having to be anyone and as long as he was faking one friendship, he might as well go for two. Besides, Y/N was interesting and for some reason he couldn't quite place, Kol found himself drawn to her. 

The girl lifted her head, blinking in surprise. She glanced between the two boys, seeming almost confused. "Y-you want me t-o?" She asked. 

Kol raised a brow. "Well, I am inviting you so… obviously," He said with a charming smile.

Y/N's eyes gained a suspicious gleam. "Wh-why?" He opened his mouth to answer when Jeremy spoke for him.

"'Cause he's a nice guy, Y/N/N," The Gilbert boy reassured his cousin. "I mean, yeah, he flirts with anything that breathes, and I apologise in advance for that, but he's not inviting you along just so he can make fun of you." The girl didn't seem entirely convinced but she nodded anyway, deciding to trust him.

"I'm sorry but… do people do that often? Stab you in the back like that?" Kol wondered. The idea seemed unnecessarily cruel to him and certainly uncalled for. 

Neither of the cousins answered, but Jeremy looked up with an expression that told him all he needed to know. He gave Y/N's shoulder a little squeeze and Kol could tell that the boy was extremely protective of her, which wasn't hard to understand. What he couldn't seem to comprehend, however, was why he - Kol bloody Mikaelson - suddenly felt the same way. Perhaps it was something about her frail stature or the way she'd been ostracized by her peers. She was small, like Henrik had been, and with the same willful yet vulnerable heart as Rebekah. 

"Well, those people are clearly idiots," He replied with an empathetic smile. "Do you like Olive Garden?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Olive Garden? Yell heah!" She cheered, grinning. He snickered at her little mistake, perhaps some would find it annoying but he just thought it was cute. "Sooo… we fr-riends?"

"Of course, darling. I defended your honor and now I'm inviting you to lunch - that practically makes us cousins," Kol mused. Her enthusiasm made him smile. Y/N's eyes flew wide and she gawked at him, then she turned to Jeremy in disbelief. 

"Fr-friends!" She squealed. Her cousin chuckled and nodded, clearly not as shocked by this as her. She turned back to Kol and threw her arms around him. He froze, unsure what the girl was hugging him for before accepting her embrace. She tapped his back softly.

"One," She muttered. "No, no… that's wrong… Start?"

"Do you mean first?" Kol guessed.

"Yeah! Yeah. You're my… my first! That's it." She hugged him a little tighter. "You're m-my first."

The one-thousand-year-old original found himself smiling then, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “In that case, I’m honored.”

***

Food is always good; however, it’s even better when someone else is paying for it. You had offered to pay for yourself but Kol had adamantly refused. You had been wary of tagging along with your cousin and his friend, having no desire to be the third wheel but you were pleasantly surprised when that wasn’t the case at all. Kol gave you the same attention he gave Jeremy and that surprised you. People didn’t really do that outside your family because everyone else didn’t care enough to put forth the effort. Yet, Kol did and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He was animated and lively when talking and an equally engaged listener - he was fun! The three of you talked about all sorts of things while eating breadsticks like there was no tomorrow. 

So far you had learned that his favorite color was purple (he insisted there was no such thing as a ‘girly’ color), he was insanely good at close up magic (the guy was wearing short sleeves and he disappeared a pen right in front of your face), his family was apparently wealthy but he didn’t like rich people, his favorite animal was the fox, his favorite dinosaur was the velociraptor, he was claustrophobic (for reasons he would not expound upon), he spoke multiple languages (because his parents were apparently unpleasable and once you learn one of each type you can figure the rest out pretty easily), and when he was a kid he had wanted to grow up and become a professional wizard. 

“A-are you lov-ved?” You asked next, mentally cringing a second after the words left your mouth. That was just your condition; you knew what you wanted to say but could never find the right words to say it how you meant. Often your words offended people, it was one reason why you’d never really had a friend outside of your family. Over the course of your conversation with him, you had put together that Kol came from a dysfunctional family; thus, it wasn’t exactly hard to see how your words could hurt him.

The British boy choked on his drink. “Excuse me?” He strangled out. You saw a twinge of hurt flash through his eyes and you wanted to run and hide.

“No, no! That’s not… I m-mean are-are you, uh… Do you… Do you, um…” You started snapping your fingers, trying to remember and looked desperately to Jeremy for help. He just shrugged, equally as confused as Kol. “What’s the word? It’s… It’s, uh… Where did it go?” You couldn’t remember the word you were looking for and you could feel your cheeks begin to burn as you grew more and more frustrated and flustered. You bit your lip and tore your fingers through your hair - another one of your nervous tics when you struggled, like snapping your fingers or bouncing your feet. A lock of hair got caught around your birthstone ring, tugging painfully and giving you a sudden idea. You gasped and slipped the ring off your finger. “Ring!” You exclaimed. The two boys glanced at each other, still confused and you huffed. Kol made a shocked noise when you suddenly snatched his right hand off the table, pointing first at his ring finger and then at yours and then holding up your ring. “Ring!” You said again.

Then something seemed to dawn on him and he smiled. “Wait, are you asking if I have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah! Yeah.” You relaxed, feeling a shy smile flutter across your face which was surely flushed. 

“Well, no, actually, I don’t have one - not at the moment - but I’m open to auditions.” A slow but very cheeky grin spread across Kol’s lips. The boy was a thousand miles beyond cute and he knew it. “Why is it that you ask, darling?” 

“‘Cuz she’s into you,” Jeremy said through a mouthful of breadstick. Now it was your turn to choke on your drink. 

“N-no! I just-” Jeremy cut you off, pointing his breadstick in your face.

“Liar,” He deadpanned. Then he turned to Kol. “She never makes this much of an effort to talk to anyone. Not even me. I mean, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard her actually speak. Most of the time she just uses google translate or this funky text to speech thing to talk for her.” 

You glared at him and made a show of pulling your phone out of your bag and turning it on before typing something in. Thankfully, you had fast fingers. “It’s pretty hard to type while you’re eating, dofus.” Your phone said in the monotone voice of a computer.

“Is it really?” He challenged. “I bet I could do it.” You typed another message. 

“There is no way you’re touching my phone, butterfingers.” 

Your cousin rolled his eyes. “I dropped that lego set one time,” He insisted. “And that still doesn’t explain why you’re so chatty. I haven’t heard you talk this much since you were six!”

You raised a brow at him. “It's a little thing called being polite. No one has bothered to engage me in a conversation since I was six, outside of our family, but I don’t have to be polite to you maggots.” 

Kol laughed at that but quickly tried to cover it with a cough.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” Jeremy pressed, leaning over to ruffle your hair. You moved to smack his hand away but he used the opportunity to snatch your phone out of your other hand. When you reached for it back he held it out of reach. “Nope!”

“Give!” You demanded. You reached for it again but he quickly slid it over the table to Kol who swiped it up. He glanced from the phone to you and back with a very satisfied smirk. 

You raised a brow. “Not girl talking with you. I’m a gir-rl. Not you.”

“Well, you certainly have the figure of one,” Kol pointed out. His eyes wandered to your neckline and you knew he did that just to make you blush and of course, it worked. You weren’t used to being noticed.

Jeremy groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “Dude, this is Olive Garden. Could you not?”

Kol shrugged. “You’re the one who brought this up,” He retorted. 

“Well, someone had to. I know a good thing when I see it, but you’re too stupid, and she’d never admit it,” Your cousin claimed. You scoffed, that boy wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him on the rear. “If I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s that drama sucks. So, yeah, just kiss but not here and not in front of me. Get a room.”

“I have one.” Kol smirked. “It’s right across from yours.”

Jeremy frowned and turned back to you. “Nevermind. Stay single, please.”

You groaned and put your head down on the table. A waitress must have seen because a second later, one was kneeling beside you.

"Are you alright, miss?" 

You glanced up and nodded before picking up a breadstick from the basket.

"How many of, uh, of these to cl-clean-cleanse a sou-l."

The woman frowned. "The jury's out on that one, sweetheart."

You hummed and sent her a thumbs up. She walked away. When you finally worked up the courage to look back up at Kol, he was staring at you which didn't help your confidence in the slightest. He seemed a little out of it, though. His eyes were glazed over and they fixated on your shoulder… or was it your neck he was staring at? He was probably just lost in thought so you waved a hand in front of his face. 

The boy blinked and met your eyes with a slight frown.

"I'm sorry, but I just remembered that there's something I need to take care of. I need to go," He said, standing up. His tone was remorseful but there was a trace of something else… something uncomfortable. You frowned.

"Oh…" You knew you would probably never see him again. At least, nothing more than a brief encounter on the street. You were a fool to think he actually tolerated you - a person who was a burden simply to talk with. "I'll look ar-round."

"It's 'I'll see you around'," Jeremy muttered.

"I mean, I'll see you ar-around," You corrected yourself in a whisper. You expected him to just leave then but he lingered. 

"You really do have the most captivating eyes, Y/N," He said. You just kept your gaze on your lap and nodded, not wanting to watch him go. Then, you felt a finger lifting your chin, guiding you to look up. "You know, when someone calls you beautiful, it usually means they like looking at you." He smiled a little and all you did was nod. You were trying really hard not to let him see you cry. "When can I see you again?" He asked softly. 

You blinked and finally met his eyes. "Y-you want to see me?"

Kol chuckled. "As a matter of fact, darling, I do."

"A-any-t-time. Jus-just hit," You said. He raised a brow.

"Oh, we didn't tell you?" Jeremy asked, leaning forward. 

"Tell me what?" The British boy asked. 

"Y/N lives three doors down from you. She means knock, by the way, not hit," Your cousin supplied.

"Uh, huh," You agreed. Kol grinned and you were surprised by how genuine it seemed. 

"Well, you can be sure I won't keep you waiting long." Then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Kol's lips sent bolts of electricity down your spine and through your limbs. Then he turned to leave.

You gasped. “Game nigh-t-t?!” You suggested. He stopped at the door and glanced back, spreading his arms.

“Why not? There's always time for games!”

So three nights later, that’s exactly what the three of you did, deciding to play board games instead of video games, at your suggestion. The event was held in your apartment, on your kitchen floor because you didn’t have a table big enough, and Kol had shown up wearing one of those tacky poker vizors. After getting your butts handed to you in Monopoly, you and your cousin decided to play Uno and unleash the full power of all the draw four cards you could find on Kol who had been less than amused. Currently, the sun outside your window was sinking low in the sky and the three of you had moved on to the Game of Life. Evidently, Kol had never really played board games before because his parents were jerks so explaining the game took a while.

See you were quickly approaching 8:00 PM and by nature that meant things were very dark, which was a problem because your apartment didn't have enough light to see the game you were playing. Luckily, you were prepared. 

"Y/N, your lights in here are awful," Your cousin declared, squinting in an attempt to see his cards.

"I hate to agree with him, darling, but I can't even see how badly I'm losing," Kol hummed.

"You got anything to fix that?" Jeremy wondered. You nodded vigorously and scrambled to get off the floor, moving over to the cupboards. You reached in, pulling out a long tube and a bowl full of little plastic pieces. 

"Sn-nap light!" You cheered, pouring a few hundred glow sticks out on the floor in front of you. 

"Glow sticks, Y/N/N," Jeremy sighed. "They're called glow sticks."

"Uh, huh. Yeah." You giggled a little and glanced at Kol who was studying the multicolored rods as if he'd never seen one before. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe British people didn't have glow sticks - you'd been born and raised in Denver so you wouldn't know - or maybe his parents had just been truly awful. You grabbed three of the sticks and cracked them, watching Kol's eyes widen as they began to glow. Then you used the plastic pieces to fashion them into a ring, which you proceeded to place on his head. He went a little cross-eyed, grinning as he tried to look at it.

"A crown fit for a king," He announced. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of sticks from the pile, copying what you had done. "And one for a queen." Kol placed the so-called crown on your head and you smiled, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was a quick, impulsive thing and both parties involved were equally surprised. Your insides felt all tingly.

"Do I even wanna know where you got all these things?" Your cousin demanded, cracking two handfuls of the little rods. Glow sticks may not give off much light but you had a lot of them, like a LOT.

"Uh…." You snapped your fingers a few times. "The… The groove?"

"You mean that dance a few weeks ago?" He guessed. "Why would you-"

"Free!" You claimed defensively. The people running the thing had been desperate to get rid of all the extras so you had done your part. You weren't one to turn down free stuff no matter how unnecessary it was. 

You continued to play the game, all the while making more and more rings with the glow sticks. Your cousin wouldn't permit you to make him into a human light fixture but Kol just laughed and let you hang as many glowing rings on him as your heart desired. There were quite a few by the time you were done.

"Ph-phone!" You held out your hand expectantly.

"What do you need mine for?" He asked, regarding you with a somewhat cagey expression. You could feel a throbbing ache beginning to build at the base of your skull but you didn't want the night to end so you decided not to start a wrestling match with your frontal lobe. Instead, you opted to make a rectangle with your fingers and a little click-click sound with your mouth. "A picture?" He clarified.

"Yeah."

"Alright then," He grinned, shaking his head. "Just be sure to get my good side." He handed you his phone and you took the picture, flipping it around to show him when you were done. "You're going to steal my career, darling," He said. You just snickered. "Hey, why don't you send that to my sister? I think she's under the contact name: Fingernails."

"Fingern-ails?" You repeated. What kind of contact name was that? Kol just smirked.

"Yep. Fingernails."

"Okay…" You went searching through his contacts and Jeremy came to lean over your shoulder.

"Dude, what is with your contact names on here? I mean first Fingernails…and here's uh… Rover… The Stick + The Mud… this one's just an eyeroll emoji…" Your cousin laughed and Kol shrugged, taking his turn. "What, do you have something against using names?"

"Yes," He replied with a smirk. There was something behind that expression but you didn't know what.

"What d-did you ca-call me?" You asked.

"Oh, I don't think I have your number," He replied. "Which is a criminal offense on my part, now that I think of it. Here, put your number on that while you've got it."

"Okay." You did as you'd been told, sending the picture to his sister and putting in your number. "Back." You passed it back to him. He thanked you with a soft smile and glanced down to read what you'd sent along with his picture.

"Really, darling?" He sighed, though his lips were twitching. "I'm a pretty, pretty princess? That's what you choose to send?" You just nodded vigorously, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. Kol glanced up and his chocolate eyes met yours. He was just looking at you but no one had really done that before, you weren't used to attention that wasn't annoyed or pitying. Your cheeks heated and you tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear.

"W-what?" You mumbled. Was there something wrong? Had you done something? 

"Nothing." He shook his head. "You're just adorable."

You ducked your head, unable to keep the smile off your face. Why was he so kind to you? People didn't do that. So why did he? You didn't get it.

"Your turn, Romeo," Jeremy interrupted, snacking on a bag of pretzels. 

Kol just laughed and took his turn. He moved his piece along the board and his face fell. "Tree falls on house, pay seventy-five thousand if not insured. Great." You snickered and reached up to ruffle his hair.

"Sucks to be you," Jeremy supplied. "So what's my contact name on your phone?"

"Han Solo," Kol replied without missing a beat. Jeremy nodded.

"I can live with that."

"Me?" You asked hopefully. Kol hummed.

"Let me think…" His eyes skimmed up and down your figure and you knew he did that just to make you blush. A smirk spread across his lips when it worked. "Candy," He decided.

You tilted your head. "W-why?"

"Because you're sweet," He answered with a shrug. "And eye candy," He added under his breath.

Kol's response made you laugh, which subsequently made you flinch at the pain that jolted through your skull. That migraine wasn't going away. Your heart sank, you had really been enjoying yourself. Now you had to be the one to end things. This was why no one wanted to be friends with you; geez, you were always such an inconvenience.

"Whoa-" Jeremy placed a hand on your shoulder. "You good, Y/N?"

You shook your head, rubbing your temple. "Mi-migr-ra-raine," You stuttered out, guilt taking over your features. "I'm sorry. I just- I can't-"

"You want us to leave?" Your cousin asked. Kol was watching you intently but you couldn't meet his eyes. Always an inconvenience.

You shook your head. "I'm so s-sorry."

"Well that's just bloody fantastic," Kol spoke up. You flinched a little at his words, though they didn't sound particularly angry or even annoyed. "How convenient of you to make friends with possibly the only person on the planet who knows how to cure a migraine." You glanced up and there he was, smiling at you as though this changed nothing. As though this wasn't just another reason to prove you were more trouble than you were worth. He smiled as if - No. That wasn't a thought worth entertaining. You weren't going to delude yourself into getting your hopes up.

"A, uh, a cure?" You asked, a little bit skeptical.

"Not for the cause, I'm afraid - just the pain," He said. But that was enough for you. "Would you like to try it? It's back in my flat but I can go and get it, if you'd like."

"Apartment," Jeremy muttered under his breath.

"Flat," Kol affirmed, eying you with an expectant gaze. You just shrugged.

"Y-you had me a-at-t pa-ain."

Kol blinked. "That's… good to know." You could see the smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth and you groaned, hiding your face. He barely withheld his laughter as he patted your arm and got up, moving towards the door. "It's alright, darling, it's cute - part of your charm. I'll just go get that out of my flat. Be right back."

"Apartment," Jeremy grumbled.

"Flat!" Kol countered.

"This is America! It's called an apartment!"

"I'm British! I'm calling it a flat!" He shut the door sharply behind him, effectively ending the debate. You would have found their ridiculous banter amusing if not for your migraine. The harsh bang of the door reverberated painfully through your aching skull and you whimpered. The door opened just enough for Kol to peak his head back in with a sheepish expression. "Sorry 'bout that." He closed the door again, much quieter this time, and you sighed.

As far as his supposed migraine cure went, you weren't exactly convinced. You had been dealing with frequent migraines since the accident and though you took medication for it, it could only decrease the frequency of your migraine days. The pain was the real problem and nothing, it seemed, could make the vicious combination of searing, pounding, and ringing sensations disappear completely. But that was your lot in life. Your bedside table was a pharmacy and you knew the local hospital staff on a first-name basis. A normal life just wasn't in the cards for you and you had given up hoping for one a while ago.

"Do you think this migraine cure will actually work, or are you just humoring him?" Your cousin asked, taking his turn. You lifted your head just enough to look at him, lifting a very weary eyebrow. "No, huh? Is it 'cause you think he's full of crap or 'cause you just don't wanna get your hopes up?" You clicked your tongue and shot a finger gun at him. "Little bit of both?" He clarified. You nodded; non-verbal communication was just easier, especially when it was just you and Jeremy. You didn't have to perform for him, anyone else was another story.

"You know… you're allowed to like him, Y/N," Jeremy tried, sounding a little hesitant but convinced. "I mean, there's no law that says you can't." You huffed a bitter laugh. It must have been so easy for him to say that.

"Yes, there i-is," You muttered, a sour smile creeping across your face.

Jeremy sighed, giving you that same look as so many others. It was pity and you hated it. "Y/N, what those girls say-"

"I-I-I d-don't care, really. I-I don't-" You shook your head. "I'm a… uh… um… I'm not-not… um… what's the word?" You tapped your hand softly against your thigh, not wishing to insight further wrath from your migraine. "Bird? No, no…. Burden! Yeah. I'm a bur-burden, Jer. I-I'm not gonna ma-make him, o-or any-o-one, de-eal with me." That wasn't his responsibility. You couldn't expect anyone to actually like you and you weren't going to put Kol in a position where he would feel obligated to cater to a silly crush on your part. You knew he only hung around you because of Jeremy - you knew that - but as long as he wasn't actively protesting your presence, you would enjoy his. You had learned to be a scavenger by now. 

Before Jeremy could say anything else, the door opened and Kol appeared with a steaming mug of something or other. "You two better not have stolen anything from me while I was out," He warned playfully. You rolled your eyes and he sat down on the floor across from you again, sliding the mug over. "There we are. I hope it's not too hot." The liquid inside the mug was a questionable peach sort of color and question it you did. "Oh, come on, darling! It's not going to hurt you, I promise it'll help." The expression on Kol's face seemed sincere, so you sent him a soft smile.

Lifting the cup to your lips you took a small sip. The taste was earthy, yet sweet with a hint of something you couldn't quite place. "What's in h-he-ere?" You wondered, enjoying the drink's pleasant warmth.

"It's herbal tea." Kol shrugged. "With a secret ingredient, of course."

"Sp-spill," You demanded. The boy scoffed.

"And give you an excuse to get rid of me? I don't think so, darling. Now take your turn." You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. You passed two payday spaces and found buried treasure so you weren't going to complain. Play moved around the board two more times before Kol spoke up again. "So how do you feel?"

Well, you felt a little tingly but other than that-

Wait.

The pain was gone. Just gone. You hadn’t even noticed it leave.

"G-Good… I'm… I'm good!" You exclaimed with a bright laugh. "No h-hurt!"

Kol grinned and there was something unusually soft in it that made you feel something strange. You felt… special. "See? What did I tell you?"

You didn't give him time to be cocky, opting to tackle him in a hug before he had a chance to react. He seemed surprised but wrapped his arms around you a moment later. You buried your face in his neck and hoped how tight you were holding him could communicate the gratitude you could never say.

"Somebody's enthusiastic," Kol chuckled. You just held on tighter. "Ah! I'm being strangled! Jeremy, she's trying to murder me!"

"Don't act like you don't like it," Your cousin scoffed. 

You snickered and Kol shifted your weight easily so he could glare at your cousin over your shoulder. "Load of help you are." 

"Thank you, Ko-ol," You whispered. For once, you really truly meant it. 

You felt Kol's hands smooth over your back, settling around your waist as he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "My pleasure, love." He sounded like he meant it too.

"Seriously? Right here? Ugh, just take your turn, Y/N. You guys can make out when I leave," Jeremy grumbled. Your cheeks flared with heat and you let go of Kol, moving back to your seat to take your turn. The game ended a few turns later and Jeremy won, only because he'd stolen your salary card at the last second so you had ended up coming in second. Poor Kol had come in last and suffice it to say, he wasn't too happy about that. 

"I still think you cheated," The British boy insisted as he helped clean up the game.

Jeremy shrugged. "You're the one who chose to skip college, man."

"It's his first time playing, give him a break." You had your phone out and let it do the talking.

Your cousin just shook his head with a smile. "Well, guys I gotta go, I've got work tomorrow. This was fun, though."

"We should do it again," Kol agreed. 

Jeremy moved over to you and gave you a hug. "Be good," He hissed in your ear. He didn't give you time to smack him before he went for the door. Then he turned to Kol. "Hurt her and I'll kill you."

Kol nodded, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips. "Noted."

Jeremy sent him a thumbs up and you a wink. "Also, keep it down. 'Night!" He closed the door before you could throw anything at him and heaven knows you would have.

You groaned. What was his problem? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? He probably thought he was being funny, but he really wasn't. His words just hurt, really because you knew you were hopeless. Kol would never like you that way, no one ever had and no one ever would, least of all him! He was so far out of your league you couldn't even see that far. He was handsome, witty, well-spoken, and British! And what were you? A broken Plain-Jane with speech aphasia who takes glow sticks from parties to make up for the fact that no one asked her to dance. Oh yeah, you had it all going for you.

"So, just you and me now, eh? Whatever will we do to pass the time?" Kol drawled, throwing himself down on the couch beside you. The grin he wore reminded you of a puppy somewhat, full of energy. You gave him your best attempt at a smile in return. 

"It's okay, Kol. You can go now, if you want." If you spoke, you were sure your voice would betray what you really felt and you hated crying. 

Kol's face fell. "Darling, is everything alright? Did I do something?" He seemed oddly sincere in his question and a tad bit nervous if you were reading him right. You had thought he was just a flirt for the fun of it but maybe… No. Getting your hopes up would only hurt. But Kol reached out and placed a hand on your knee and hope started to creep into your heart without your permission. 

"Jer-Jeremy's go-one. You-You don't have to put u-up with-with me any-any-any-m-more." You stuttered and stumbled but perhaps it was better to say this yourself. "I know-ow you o-only h-h-hang out with me be-because of-of him." You looked away, letting your hair fall over your face like a curtain.

"Y/N…" His voice was soft and had you been looking you were sure you would have seen pity drawn across his features. "That's not true."

A bitter laugh escaped you as you shook your head. "D-don't say, uh, that. Don't, um… um… w-what is it? Uh… Don't, uh… Lie. Yeah. Don't lie." That sounded harsher than you meant it to but you could barely get it out at all. "P-pity doesn't h-help me. Don't do it."

"I'm not pitying you," He insisted.

"You-You al-already did. Not-not trying though," You sighed. It was always the same. Everyone thought that they were being helpful or kind but their attempts only served to burn you further. It would be better if they just did nothing at all.

"Y/N, please look at me." His tone was patient but you shook your head, content to hide behind your hair. Apparently, such a response wasn't enough for him. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Kol's hand trailed higher on your leg. The pressure of his fingertips was all you could register and your eyes shot up to meet his. He watched you with concern and it… it looked real. "I'm not lying to you, darling. Jeremy and I are mates, but that has nothing to do with you and me. What I think of you, how I behave in your presence, that's for me to decide - it has nothing to do with him. If I choose to spend my time with a beautiful girl, it's because I enjoy her company… simple as that."

That wasn't an idea you could comprehend. People didn't enjoy your company, that was just part of your life. You were used to being ignored and pushed away. Anything else didn't make sense.

"No…" You shook your head. "No that's not-" Then it hit you. It hit you like a ton of bricks. Kol had just called you beautiful. The thought gave you pause and you frowned. "I-I'm not pr-retty." You had scars from the accident. They covered your shoulders, neck, chest, and back. Some even crossed your cheeks. They didn't make you beautiful.

Yet, Kol lifted his other hand and brought it up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along one of those old scars. There was something in his eyes - it was focused and real. "Pretty? No." He smiled. "Gorgeous? Absolutely."

"No-no one else…" You struggled to find the words in your scattered, damaged mind. But as he stroked your cheek, your thoughts were consumed by the warmth that seemed to overtake you. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his touch, and when you did, the joy - the excitement - that flickered to life across his face made your heart pound. The guarded quality he always kept melted away, leaving his eyes kind and innocent.

"I think you'll come to find-" He began softly, leaning in closer. His right hand shifted ever so slightly higher and you swallowed deeply as his fingertips tenderly clinched your thigh. "-that I'm quite a bit different from other people you've met."

"Wha-what, um… speaking like?" You shook your head, unable to make sense of it - of him. Everyone always wanted something. What was it that he wanted from you? "How? How dif-different?"

The boy sighed, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Well, for one thing, I understand what it's like to lose a part of yourself," He claimed. You nodded, encouraging him to continue, and with a shaking breath, he did. "Something happened when I was younger and-and I lost the thing that made me… that made me. It-It was just… in a snap -" He snapped his fingers. "- it was gone. Gone and I couldn't have it back." 

You could hardly believe it. He understood. He understood. He wasn't lying. In your lifetime of people trying to sugar coat things, you had gotten quite good at spotting a liar. But Kol was telling the truth. You could see it in the hurt contained in his eyes and feel it in the tremble that wracked his hands. 

He really did know, and for the first time in so, so long - longer than you could remember - you truly weren't alone. It felt wondrous. And that boy, he leaned in closer to you still. 

"I know what it's like to yearn for something you can't have; something just out of reach, so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue..." Your foreheads were nearly touching and you hadn't realized it until now, but his eyes were fixed on your lips and he was still talking. "So close but you just can't have it and you keep reaching, keep hoping, but every time it dissolves in your grip, a little piece of you dies. And all you want is what's right in front of you…" His voice was so soft, just a dull mutter and you couldn't really hear it - so soft your hearing aids couldn't pick it out. But you could read the words on his lips and feel them in the air he breathed as it ghosted over your face. His eyes were on your lips and his breathing was heavy. It was like a spell and you wanted to kiss him. "So close… but not for you to keep…"

Kol's lips brushed over yours so gently you wouldn't have sensed it had you not been so hyper-aware of him at that moment. Your eyes fluttered closed and though there were butterflies filling your whole being, you felt oddly relaxed. Maybe it was the way he held you - as if you meant something - as if you were something he wanted. The feeling that flooded you then was odd - it was pure and blissful and right, right, right! What was it? You didn't know, you had no word for it.

"What i-is this?" You asked breathlessly. The lack of air was marvelous.

"Something I shouldn't do," He replied, too low for you to hear. You felt the words against your lips, reading them like Braille. And Kol shifted his hands to your waist, squeezing lightly. 

"No?" You breathed. He was so close.

His lips nipped at yours just the slightest bit. "I shouldn't…" He shook his head a fraction and nipped again. "I-I shouldn't…" It was almost as if he were fighting something. Your hands moved on their own it seemed and fisted his shirt. It was something to feel - something you could believe in. You didn't know what he was fighting but you wanted this moment to win.

Kol cursed.

"But I want to." 

And he was kissing you. He closed the space between you, setting your senses on fire. His lips were soft and warm and the way he moved was so sweet. You gasped against his mouth and he just kissed you harder. The experience was so strange, you had never kissed anyone before but Kol felt so safe. You felt so safe with him. The way he cradled you like you were something to be cherished sent something beautiful burning through your soul. It was real, he was real, he meant it - you knew it. He tangled one hand in your hair, tugging on the roots just a bit because he needed to make sure you were real too. Kol's mouth lingered, but one kiss wasn't enough for him and he was right - it wasn't enough for you either. He came back for more, pressing you closer to him. Each kiss seemed more adoringly hungry than the last. For each time his lips captured yours and for each time he pulled away, you counted: 

One… Two… Three…  

A quick breath in-

Four… Five…

Kol moaned sweetly, slipping a hand beneath your shirt - just so he could touch your skin. He didn't want anything else at that moment, only you.

Six… Seven… Eight…

He broke away, only for a moment and only so he could speak. You opened your eyes to look at him and he was perfect. He licked his lips. His voice was hoarse and pleading, his breaths ragged -

"Lay back." 

And you did. Because Kol was safe. His lips found yours again and he positioned himself over you.

Nine… Ten…

Kol's perfect kisses left your lips, moving lower. Over your jaw, down your throat. He tugged at your shirt to leave a trail of tantalizing bruises along your collar bone and back up. He stopped at your jugular, pressing his lips against your pulse and groaning as if he were in pain… Why was he in pain?

"This wasn't in the plan," He murmured against your neck. "I should stop… I need to stop." Words spoken absently, as if to convince someone else.

You frowned and opened your eyes. "My f-fault?"

"No." He sighed heavily and his grip on your waist tightened. “No, it's not your fault.” With one final, lasting kiss to your lips, he shifted his hold on you and moved over so he could lay by your side. Twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, he smiled at you. "If anything, you're a little too fantastic." You weren’t sure what he meant and for a moment you wished you could read his mind. You wanted to know everything he was thinking.

"I don't see in-inside," You said, frowning. You ran a hand through his hair because you could and to tell him what you meant.

Kol laughed softly. "I'm saying I fancy you, darling.” He slid his hand away from your waist, over your hip, and down your thigh, squeezing carefully - as if asking permission. You shivered but didn’t protest and he repeated the motion over and over. “Was that not obvious?" You blinked, searching his face for any sign of a lie. You couldn’t find one.

"You… like… me?" It was real. He really did. That was more than your brain could process. "Why?"

And Kol just smiled, his sweet grip on your thigh tightening just a little in a way that told you he wanted you to pay attention. "Because you see with more than just your eyes. You look deeper and… you like what you see." He sighed, shaking his head with a laugh that held a ring of pain. "Not many other people do."

"We-we dance," You muttered, nodding. “Per-per-f-form.”

"It gets a little old, doesn't it?" He agreed.

"Yeah." 

"You don't have to perform for me," He promised. Kol smiled in that crooked way he always did and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a butterfly kiss to your hair. "Come here, darling." He wrapped his arms around you and guided you to rest your head on his chest. It was warm and you could hear his heartbeat and this was all a first for you but it felt like the first of many.

He was so warm and you could have sworn you only closed your eyes for a second…

But when you opened them again, Kol wasn't there, and you knew you'd been fooled. It was ten AM and you were all alone. He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye!

You sighed to yourself as you sat up, burying your face in your hands. You kept your eyes screwed shut to keep the tears at bay but a small sob escaped your lips without your permission. As much as you wished you could shrug it off like you had every time before, you just couldn't, because it was different this time. This time it wasn't just a little scratch on the surface of your heart. This time it was a gouge the size of the Grand Canyon and it hurt like hell. It was different this time because Kol was different - at least, you'd thought he was. For once, you thought someone had actually meant their words to you - he'd had you so convinced. But you'd been wrong about him. He was just like everyone else.

To be honest, you should have known better. Kol was a flirt and he always would be. That was just who he was and maybe he couldn't help it, you thought.  Maybe he was still a decent person, maybe he hadn't really meant to hurt you the way he had. After all, the boy had the attention span of an adult child and the impulse control of a- 

Nevermind. He had no impulse control.

You just should have known better than to think he'd see something in you worth sticking around for. You were lucky to have gotten what you had from him. Guys like Kol didn't look at girls like you. Sure, you weren't ugly, but you were damaged beyond repair. Just a burden you couldn't expect him to bear.

That didn't make it hurt any less though. The way Kol had kissed, and touched, and held you - it had all seemed so real. But maybe you were just a fool to have believed it. No one had showed interest in you like that before, you should have known better that to think anyone ever would. Kol had been the first, yet you wished you'd never met him because you knew now that he would be the only one. And if he was the only one, then you could be sure you would never forget him. You would never forget his kisses, the gentle way he spoke to you, that playful glimmer in his eyes, the laughter he could coax from you, or the bruises he'd left along your collarbone. Even when those bruises faded, they would leave a sweet pain behind.

Resigning yourself to that fact, you stood and started with your day. You got dressed, made yourself breakfast, washed the dishes, and then checked your phone. You were somewhat surprised to find fourteen missed calls from Jeremy, though you weren't much in a talking mood, so you ignored them.

You really shouldn't have.

Because sometime around eleven-thirty, there was a knock at your door. You ambled over - a little listlessly if you were being honest - and answered it, fully prepared to tell whatever salesman was standing there to go away. The door swung open and your jaw dropped. There, leaning in the doorway, stood Kol. Now, normally that fact alone would have been shocking enough, but that was the least of your worries at the moment. 

Because Kol was covered in blood.

"Good morning, darling. How are we today?"

He was smiling at you - beaming really - but his shirt was soaked in crimson, along with his jeans. It almost looked like he'd been laying in a pool of blood. His face seemed slightly ashen and in his shirt, right over his heart, was a large, jagged hole. Like he'd been stabbed. Yet the flesh beneath that hole was completely intact, without so much as a scratch.

"Kol? W-w-wha-what?" Your eyes were wide and you shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "W-what ha-ha-happen-end?" You demanded.

"Funny story about that, actually." There was so much blood. Yet he laughed. "Jeremy and I had a bit of a falling out, if you can believe that. One if his other friends stabbed me."

You gaped at him. He shouldn't have been standing. He should've been dead. "Y-you-you can't… You can't be h-here…" You whispered. You wanted to ask how he was still breathing but the words were lost on you.

Kol grimaced, but not as if he were in pain. "Sorry about that disappearing act earlier, darling. I think there's something you should know," He declared. "I haven't been entirely honest with you, and I promise I'll explain everything, but first…" Kol pushed himself off the door frame with a slight groan and stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder and trapping you in a vice-like grip. He looked deep into your eyes and you found yourself unable to break free. 

"First, you're going to do exactly as I say."

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid (Tell me if you want on or off the tag list!)

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson fanfiction #the originals #canon compliant #the originals fanfiction #the originals fan fiction #tvdu #tvd fanfic #vampire diaries fan fiction #fan fiction #fanfic #the vampire diaries #my name is cas and i write stuff #angst and fluff #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol x reader #disabled reader #reader has a disability #elijah x reader #kol mikaelson fan fiction #klaus x reader #jeremy gilbert #gilbert cousin

[holylulusworld]

Big grump

Summary: Sam and Dean reconsider their relationships.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Square 24 filled for Lulu’s X-Mas Bingo: Square 24: Love confessions  

Square 20 filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo: Square 20: Love confessions

Square 2 filled for @spnfluffbingo​​: Old flame au

Square 2 filled for @spnchristmasbingo​: Photographs

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of former relationships/break-ups, fluff

Words: 1,1 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“Dean, stop being a grump,” Sam grumbles. “I know you’re not a big fan of Christmas and parties, but this is getting ridiculous. You’re a grown-ass man acting like an angry child.”

“I just don’t know what to celebrate this year.”

“We had a very successful year. You’re healthy, got a loving family and you still can get your dick up,” the younger brother grins.

“What do you know about my dick?” Dean grumbles. “I never told you about my qualities in the bedroom.”

“Well, the stream of grinning ladies leaving your house tells me all I need to know.”

Dean huffs.

“So, why the bad mood? I thought you wanted to bring Lisa to mom’s infamous Christmas party. At least that’s what she told Amelia.”

“Lisa and I didn’t work out,” the elder brother shrugs.

“Dude, what happened? Not weeks ago, you wanted to move in with her,” Sam gasps at the news. “Did you mess things up? What did you do this time?”

“She wants to try with her ex again,” Dean looks around the large ballroom. “I tried to not mess things up with Lisa and then she goes and breaks up with me not four weeks before Christmas.”

“Fuck, that’s just awful. I’m sorry Dean,” patting his brother’s shoulder Sam sighs. “Do you want me to ask Amelia for her friend’s number? You know the cute redhead you liked so much.”

“No. I don’t want a date for mom’s party. If things didn’t work out between me and Lisa it would’ve been fine with me. But this is just…”

Dean sighs deeply.

“I feel ya man,” Sam nods in understanding. “Do you remember Ruby? The quirky brunette I brought home four or five years ago. She gave me the boot for her ex too. Never heard of her again.”

“Sex with the ex can be fun,” Dean grins. “Did it a few times before too. I just don’t get why they have to try again with their ex while being in a relationship with someone else.”

“I got no clue, Dean.”

The brothers watch the staff twirl around the ballroom to make sure the party will be even better than the last one.

Both men sigh as they think about their past relationships. In not three days they must attend the party but none of them seems to be in the mood.

“Maybe there are things left unsaid and done that won’t let you move on,” Dean wonders aloud.

“I get it... I guess. Don’t get me wrong. Amelia is great but…” Sam clears his throat, “there was something about Ruby making me go crazy. It was the wildest and most animalistic sex. We just clicked on a primal level.”

“Animalistic, huh?” Dean chuckles.

“It wasn’t just sex, Dean. We had a deep connection. I miss the mind-blowing and crazy sex, though. Ruby scratched and bit me. Sometimes she even threw things around the room and jumped at me. Ruby was…she slapped my face, and I held her down…”

Holding up his hand Dean makes a retching noise. “DUDE, too much information,” he mutters. “I really didn’t need to hear about your kinks.”

Sam laughs. “…says the man destroying a bedroom and christening mom’s kitchen counter with Y/N.”

Dean swallows thickly. He hasn’t heard your name for the better of three years.

 “It wasn’t my fault,” he says after a moment of silence. “She was a little drunk and one thing led to another.”

“Why did you break up with her again?” Sam dips his head to glance at his brother. “Everyone saw her walk down the aisle to marry you. I never understand you let her go.”

“She wanted one thing, and I was…”

“An idiot?”

“A big grump,” Dean mutters. “That’s what she called me the last time we talked. Y/N wanted me to open up and talk about my feelings. I just couldn’t and then I said something stupid. Y/N told me that she doesn’t want to waste her love and more time on a man ignoring her feelings and I said…”

Dean shakes his head.

“What did you say, Dean?” Sam presses on.

“I said she should stop waiting then…”

“I was right. You were an idiot. Dean, you should call Y/N and tell her you were in the wrong.”

“Who’s in a relationship with a woman he doesn’t want to fuck?” Dean sneers. “If you break up with Amelia and call Ruby, I’ll call Y/N and invite her to mom’s Christmas party.”

Sam stares at his brother. Dean holds his brother’s gaze, challenging him.

“Fine.”

“What?” Dean splutters. His eyes grow wide as his brother gets his phone out.

“I’ll break up with Amelia and call Ruby. Maybe she still has those handcuffs and the riding crop,” Sam bites his lower lip. “That was a night to remember…”

“Wait! What? I was just joking!” he calls after his brother.

“A deal is a deal, Dean. Go and call Y/N…”

“Dean Winchester in all his glory,” you cross your arms over your chest as your former lover stands right in front of you. He mumbles something under his breath, eyes cast down. “I didn’t get that. Why are you here?”

“I-uh,” he shrugs. “Mom is planning this huge Christmas party. You know how much I hate parties. It’s in three days and...”

“I remember…”

“I was wondering if you would give me the honor to come with me,” he scratches the back of his neck. A nervous habit.

“Why would I do such a thing?” you huff. “It’s been almost three years since I last saw you. We are not a pair anymore, Dean.”

“I was a fool and scared back then,” Dean steps a little closer. “I chickened out and you left me.”

“I did not leave you, Dean,” pointing your index finger at him you raise your voice. “You broke up with me. It was you telling me I should stop waiting for you to admit your feelings.”

“It was just a suggestion,” he argues. “You never wanted to see me again.”

“Now it’s all my fault? Are you fucking kidding me, Winchester?” you get louder, drawing your neighbors’ attention. “Why should I even consider talking to you?”

He takes a deep breath. “I love you. I should’ve told you so years ago. No, the moment we met,” he says. “I still got that old photograph of you. It’s the first one I took of you. If only I could turn back time and admit my feelings three years ago.”

“I looked awful. My hair was a mess and I didn’t wear make-up,” you clear your throat. “Why did you never call?”

“I was scared. You know how I get when someone rejects me,” he whispers. “Can I—come in? Maybe we can talk for a while. Please.”

“I wanted to have a beer and ordered pizza,” you glance at Dean. “Do you want to come in? I was about to put up my Christmas tree and could need help.”

“I-of course sweetheart. I’ll help you with pleasure…”

  Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #spnchristmasbingo #spnfluffbingo #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #lulu's winter bingo #lulu's xmas bingo

[h3artstar]

Color coded names and dialogue to know who is saying what!

Mike wished he looked more like his family.

They all looked alike, except for his mother and father, obviously. But even Nancy and Holly shared tue same features as each other: blue eyes and the same face shape, and Nancy was a little blonde as a child. Even their noses were the same. But Mike wasn’t like them.

His eyes were brown, not like his dads, but a deeper, darker brown, almost black. His nose had a hook to it, different to his mothers button nose and his fathers straight one. Even Mike’s hair was black and curly, different from his mom and dad, different from Nancy’s and Holly’s.

So why was he so different?

His mom says it’s recessive genes. Mike thinks otherwise. But Mike was always obsessed with the idea of not being normal in society. He liked being different; he liked dressing and looking different from other people, because the people around him were always so unique. But… why didn’t he look like his family? Why couldn’t he fit in?

Mike looked in the mirror before showers, or baths, and stared, looking deeply at the person who stared back with deep eye-bags under their eyes. His eyes were tired and drooping with the lack of sleep. Being an insomniac, Mike always had deep, purple eye-bags, and he never tried to do anything to make them go away. But the longer he stared in the mirror the more the person looked distorted and fake.

Mike touched at his face, turning his head at different angles and pointing out any blemish. He pulled at his skin and let it go, watching the red, hand-print marks on his face stand out against his pale skin. Wrong. He looked all wrong. Because this face wasn’t his own, was it?

He took off his clothes, listening to the water fill the bathtub slowly. His bony shoulders were revealed, and his sternum almost visible as his ribs were. When was the last time he had a fulfilling meal? His arms were so skinny that his hands (his abnormally big ones) could wrap it with his fingers overlapping.

His mother did this to him, didn’t she? Or was it his dad? Whoever it was, the comments about his body and weight (“Your gaining a bit of meat, honey! Your shirts and pants are not fitting you anymore!” “Cut back on the food, son. Your starting to look fat.”) got to his head. The thin layer of fat on his stomach was gone, and his clothes fit him, if not, a bit more baggier than before.

Mike let his hands grip the sides of the sink, his knuckles bumping against a pair of old scissors. Mike let his eyes open again from where he had them clenched. Scissors: they were a familiar object from his childhood (“Your hair is a mess!” “Look, Mike. These can hurt you of you press deep enough. Do you want to try?”).

His fingers unfurled from the side of the sink and wrapped around the cold metal of the scissors.

“Fuck, does your mom even let you do anything?! Look, it’s just a ride around town; you’ll be back home by nine!”

“You never do anything right, Ted!! What the fuck do our children have to do with our goddamn problems?!”

“Awe, look at him, Lola! He’s a pretty princess! Twirl for us, babe!”

All those words of the people he hated the most swirled in his head like water.

You did this to me.

His blood ran down the metal in a small trickle, but ignored it in favor of bringing up the scissors to his hair. It was the only thing about him that he genuinely liked, the one thing about him that wasn’t corrupted. But he can’t get rid of the fingers threading through his hair, unwanted and harsh as it trailed down to his neck.

“Your such a pretty girl, babe.”

“Don’t be such a bitch, Mike. James just likes to joke around! Take the fucking joint and stop crying.”

Fuck you… Fuck you. FuckyoufuckyouFUCKYOUFUCKYOU!

The scissors were brought closer to a loc of his hair, but Mike couldn’t being himself to snip it off. Tears streamed down his face in ugly streams.

“Your hair looks cool, dude! I think it’s my second favorite part about you.” Lucas had told him that once. Second favorite. What’s the first? Mike pondered on that part for a moment. Naturally, he spoke up about it.

“Really? Your second favorite? What’s your first?” Mike asked, tilting his head as he grasped a piece of his hair between his fingers. Lucas just smiled and huffed out a laugh.

“Everything else. Really, I’d put your hair in first place, but it’s not as great as the rest of you.” Those words had much more of an impact on Mike than Lucas thought it did. He said those words like he meant it. Like he wasn’t lying, or just trying to make Mike feel better of himself. Lucas already thought Mike was great.

Mike put down the scissors with a silent sob. He couldn’t cut it off; it meant a lot more to himself than what James and Lola, or his dad did to make it seem like a negative part of himself. Fuck them; Mike doesn’t need their validation anymore. He hasn’t needed it for over three years.

The bathtub started to over flow, courtesy of Mike’s trip down the memory lane. He shut off the knob, not caring if his dad would yell at him because he wasted water, and got inside the bath. Water splashed over the edge because of how much there was in it already, but Mike sunk inside the water until his nose just barely grazed the top. He sunk inside the water further, sliding back until the only part of his body outside of the water was his knees. Mike let himself drown for a few seconds, maybe even longer than a minute. Maybe he wanted himself to drown, maybe he just liked the feeling of the hot water. But Mike didn’t come back up until he felt like he was close to finally dying.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

#wheelclair #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #male oc #female oc #trauma #mike wheeler angst #childhood trauma #fanfic #stranger things

[panandinpain0]

Hi I rlly like your writing style and was wondering if I could request a Leo (ROTTMNT) x male reader (He/They) who likes to cross dress (like he likes to wear dresses and skirts and junk) and Leo’s interested in it to and they kinda have a mini fashion show going through readers closet for things Leo likes and wants to try on

No pressure obviously hope you have a nice day dude :]

Fashion Show

Hey! And thank you! I really appreciate that. This is a cool request, I'm excited to try it. Have a nice day too!

(Rottmnt/Tmnt 2018) Leonardo x Male!Reader |he/they pronouns|

Warnings: TBD

--

(Y/N) had always loved wearing seemingly "feminine" clothing. Things like skirts, dresses, high heels, you name it, really. The boys didn't mind, honestly they were just content with having another human friend, but it always interested Leo.

Today, (Y/N) walked into the lair listening to his music after school. They dropped their backpack at the entryway and slid onto the couch. Leo noticed they were wearing a black skirt with fishnets underneath and he really loved the way it looked. He wondered what it would be like to wear it.

"Hey, (Y/N)! I really like that skirt!" Leo commented as he slid into the room himself, taking his spot next to (Y/N).

"Thanks, man! It's one of my favorites."

The two settled into a comfortable silence, both of them looking through (Y/N)'s phone on social media.

Leo wanted to ask what it was like to wear those things, but he wasn't sure if that'd be prying or if it was weird for him to do so. Oh, whatever, he'd might as well do it.

"Hey (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

(Y/N) turned their head to make eye contact with Leo, eyebrow raised and showing more of the subtle eyeliner he'd put on that morning.

"What's it like to wear a dress? Is it nice?" Leo asked somewhat hesitantly. He tried to seem confident that way the conversation wasn't as awkward as it needed to be.

He seemed surprised by the question, but understanding nonetheless.

"It's nice for me," (Y/N) explained. "I'm not sure why but it makes me more comfortable than if I wore other things. Do you mind me asking why?" His gaze turned soft

"I don't know..." Leo turned his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just- I was thinking of maybe trying it out, is all."

"Oh that's great! I have some stuff you could try over at my place, if you'd like," (Y/N) immediately jumped to the opportunity to share this with Leo.

Leo perked up too, enjoying that he wasn't the only one excited about this.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah- okay. Let's go!"

Leo portaled them over to (Y/N)'s house, knowing no one would be home at this time. That's why (Y/N) usually came over to the lair after school, because he didn't want to be alone at home.

The two made their way to (Y/N)'s room, where he went to open his closet.

"Come and take your pick!" They giggled. "Most of my stuff should fit you. Oh, but I think you'd look great in this!" He pulled out a blue skirt, chuckling at the color.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Leo asked as he took the skirt that was handed to him.

"As long as you're comfortable, of course it is!"

Leo took a deep breath and tried on the skirt, turning to a mirror and twirling a bit to watch it float. (Y/N) was right, Leo decided, it was more comfortable. He just couldn't place as to why.

"So, what do you think?" (Y/N) asked, leaning against his high bed frame in the reflection.

"Wow," Leo breathed, twirling again.

(Y/N) laughed a bit, "I know, right?"

The two spent the rest of the evening trying on (Y/N)'s clothes, spinning and dancing around the room. Leo was really happy that he'd asked his question, and that (Y/N) had offered for him to keep the skirt.

End

--

I love this one! It's really wholesome. Thank you again for requesting, and I hope you have a great day! (I hope this lived up to expectations.)

-Author Max <3

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt leo #rottmnt x male!reader #tmnt 2018 #rise leo #leo hamato #rottmnt leo x reader #leo x male!reader #leo x reader #x male reader #x he/they reader

[ultimateluckystudent-writes]

Musical Interlude

Reserve Course Part 2.5

Summary: A quick drabble between Reserve Course!Reader and Nagito. The two bond over a shared interest in a song. Some fluff that didn't fit into part three.

Rating: Mature

Tags/Themes: Nagito Komaeda/Reader, Tentative Fluff, Two Geeks Dissecting a Song, Enemies to Lovers, Reserve Course!Reader, Mentions of Vaginal Sex, No Gendered Pronouns for Reader, Second Person POV

A/N: I know they're in Japan, but I couldn't resist writing in an English song, so sue me. Listen to Lonely Day by System of a Down here.

READ ON AO3 HERE (COMING SOON)

“Finally, a song I recognize.”

“What?” You had trouble registering the words as Nagito’s cock slid out of you. You didn’t move from your position on all fours as he stood up to grab a towel. He always scolded you if you did.

“Your playlist. I never recognize any of the music.” He didn’t bother pulling on his underwear as he swiped a clean grey towel ready on his desk. You had honestly tuned the music out, carried away by the other activities happening. You were just in time for the drums and guitar to kick in full force.

“Oh. Hah. I… actually meant to add this song to a different playlist.” You admitted, abashed at the somber, crooning tone of the song. You took the towel and wiped yourself up, attempting to chuck it into his laundry hamper. It landed hanging over the edge. You hoped he didn’t notice. He hated it when you threw the cum-filled towel across the room. You told him the same thing every time. “Hey, it’s your cum.”

“It’s better than what you usually bring me.” He snorted. He shot you a glare, unrelated to the conversation. So he had noticed. Your embarrassment only grew. “Your terrible pop music.” He waved a hand in the air like he could shoo the bad music away as he laid down next to you on the bed, nudging you over.

“What? I put that on because that’s what everybody likes! That’s not all I listen to.” You objected. “It’s not my fault you’re too- too what? Emo or pretentious? To listen to it.” You didn’t expect him to chuckle. You turned to look at him. His hands were under his head. His hair spilled over his wrists and face, wild, fluffy, curly. You rarely got to see him so relaxed. He almost seemed like… a person, instead of the abrasive jerk you knew Komaeda Nagito as.

“I’ve never been called ‘emo’ before.”

“Not to your face.” He glanced back and caught your unguarded smile. It was clear he wasn’t expecting that, because you caught his: crooked and soft. You fixed your eyes back on the ceiling. “That’s what it is, after all. It’s a sad song.”

“Sad?” He scoffed, turning to you and propping himself up on his elbow. “No, no, it’s romantic. Do they not teach you analysis over there?”

“First of all, they teach us a lot more than they teach you assholes-”

“That’s because they have to-”

“Second of all, what the hell are you talking about?” You carded your hands through the hair around his shoulders, twirling the ends around your fingertips as you listened. “Dude’s talking about how lonely he is. The whole time. Unarguable. The most loneliest day of my life.” You sang pointedly with the song.

“Yes, and through that loneliness, he describes who he longs for the most. It’s… sweet.” He traced his fingers up and down your side absentmindedly. You both listened into the lyrics carefully and sang along, considering them.

“And if you go, I wanna go with you. And if you die, I wanna die with you.” Nagito’s voice was gentle and crooning as you’d seen him be towards the Ultimates. You peered up at him while he was distracted. His long white eyelashes almost brushed his cheeks as he looked down at you. His small, pink lips you’d come to really find quite adorable formed the words. Take your hand and walk away.” You’d forgotten you were singing along, too, until he met your eye. You expected criticism, but he didn’t say anything of the sort. He seemed particularly moved by the song. His own hand came up to take yours from his hair and hold it while he laid back down. He laced his fingers within yours, holding them between your chests as you faced each other. Well, as you faced his chest, and he tucked your head under his chin.

You were thankful for the music, thankful for the proximity. You don’t know what you would have done if you could have heard either of your heartbeats or had to look back into his eyes. You’d already stayed in his bed much longer than usual after the two of you finished.

“Such a lonely day, and it’s mine. It’s a day I’m glad I survived.” He hummed to himself idly. You’d never admit it, but he had a beautiful voice. You weren’t expecting it at all.

“See? It’s, um, kind of intense.” You murmured as it reached an instrumental part of the song. “But… I see what you mean.”

“Loneliness and romance can both be intense.” He said quietly, conceding. He ran his thumb over yours as the song wrapped up, coming to the end of your playlist. With the last discordant note, it went silent. You waited for Nagito to say something, to finally push you out of bed. He didn’t.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa #bunnywrites #reserve course series #musical interlude

[rejaytionships]

Father for that one ask game! Have a fantabulous day!

thank you for the ask! i hope you have an awesome day as well :D

---

[i use myself and my s/i arnie interchangeably]

What made me like him

Out of universe, I initially got into him when designing a FusionFall s/i (CVM), and her whole schtick was being an accidental fusion of a bunch of different inserts. Since KND was one universe in the game, I wanted to make a sona for that. I thought Father was cute, and then I got into the lore a little bit and I enjoyed how over the top he was, but also that he was surprisingly chill and loved baking as well. Also, his daddy issues were a little too relatable to pass up (/lh).

In universe, the reason my insert Arnie falls for Father is because after working for him for a while and also him being the only person she would regularly hang out with (until she met her best friend Lou), she eventually found him charming and would start to see the more vulnerable side he tends to hide under his intimidating villainous exterior.

My favorite thing about him

Honestly? I love how over the top and extra this man is.

Kids want a birthday cake? Yeah, let's make an ice cream cake for the kids... except the cake is an entire spaceship, and after a laser goes off destroying all ice cream on Earth, it will also give the kids the privilege of having the last ice cream ever.

It really plays into what I like about him: just how silly and fun he can be.

I also really like the moments where he's not trying to be a villain. I loved it when he joked around with a KND operative, or made a truce with them so they could save a coveted box of cereal, or even when he gets to mention his hobby for baking; stuff like that, those are just the examples atop my head. He's literally just Some Dude underneath all of that "canonically the most evil villain (outside of his own father)" stuff.

It really shows that despite being comically devious, he's still human. I love it when evil people are actually really silly... *twirls hair*

Nicknames we have for each other

For context, Father is his business name and he's actually just some dude named Benedict.

Arnie would call him him Ben, or more commonly Benny, but would also use casual pet names, primarily dear but also babe/baby and hon(ey). She's more likely to use the pet names in public, while only calling him his name in private for the sake of Father's anonymity.

Conversely, he'd call Arnie only by her full first name when around other villains, but at home? The big one is honey pie, but in his arsenal he also uses dearie, sweetie, darling, sugar plum... just about anything silly or sweet he can possibly think of, really!

A headcanon of our relationship

Father obviously feels socially stunted, given I doubt he's got many (or any) actual friends in canon past being acquainted somewhat with the other villains. So, I think despite his ability to woo people (the result of such I'll mention in the final bullet point) he absolutely doesn't know how to maintain that sort of ability to show affection once someone agrees to be with him.

This is why with Arnie he will go all out when it comes to gifts.

Showing emotional affection via words and PDA? Sure, he could technically do that... or he could show how he feels by being the dude who will buy someone a treat whenever they so desire, except the treat is dialed up to eleven.

Craving a tub of ice cream? Why not have a whole factory of ice cream where you have any flavor at your disposal! Want to go to the beach? Let's pay a whole lot of money to privately reserve the entire coast for an afternoon, he can pull the strings! Saw a pretty dress at the store? Not only will you get that, but you're also getting matching shoes, jewelry, and whatever other possible clothing accessory could go with it (special handbag included); and screw it, next time you want a dress, he'll have stuff personally tailored for you! Hungry for literally any baked good? Hope you're excited for him to personally make a literal lifetime's worth of it from scratch!

He accidentally goes full-blown sugar daddy mode (which is funny because sometimes the sugar is actual sugar and sometimes it's what the typical sugar is for that title: money) and the only payment he wants from Arnie (or any partner, really) is a shred of validation or affection in response. Literally you could throw the man any bone; he's so starved for positive attention, that Arnie showing up and unconditionally loving him absolutely short-circuits him and makes him go above and beyond to even try and show a fraction of the care he feels like he gets from Arnie.

Arnie does slowly help him tone it down to a more reasonable level, but it took a while given this was his primary way of shouting I LOVE YOU SO MUCH from the rooftops. It took a whole lot of assuring him that she knows he loves her as much as she loves him. You'll be please to know his spending habits on his honey pie have gone down an entire 4% since they first started dating! /lh

My favorite image of him

Honestly it's hard to choose, so I'll post top three in no particular order.

Anything else!

Mild lore dump moment! This one's a little more on the serious end.

I do headcanon the Delightful Children to be biologically Father's kids, and that the "missing children of Sector Z" weren't actually kidnapped like the popular idea seems to be. We see Father with a child during A.R.C.H.I.V.E., and the history of that episode is implied to be true at the end of the episode. Really makes the whole "where did these kids even come from" question a whole lot nicer of an answer that way.

The reason I bring that up is because I feel like the kids definitely have a complicated relationship with their parents (none of them know their birth mothers, and while they respect Father it isn't like he's all sunshine and rainbow with them; typically, he's pretty strict and holds them to stupidly high expectations).

That's why I think having Arnie there gives the kids a better sense of normalcy, especially because she's not as intense on the whole becoming a perfect villain thing like Father is. The kids are still antagonistic to the KND, but they also are still kids; having a parent that just does chill normal parent stuff adds a lot of balance these kids absolutely needed in their life. Being a villain with papa is fun and all, but sometimes a kid just wants to go to the beach!

That isn't to say Father can't also be fun parent sometimes. He knows how to party down, after all!

#SORRY THIS TOOK ALL DAY TO REPLY TO LOL #jay's jots #ask prompts #ask #plucky-belmondo #selfship #self ship community #self ship ask #she's the man #arnie treize #cougarverse

[txemrn]

Is there a trait Baby Ramsey share with their parents, that makes people say “yeap, that’s you right there”?

Hey, Anon! This was such a cute Ask. Thank you so much for sending it my direction! I'm sure my answer is very similar to what others have shared, but ever since I pictured this baby, he/she has this trait (and you might be able to guess it just from knowing his/her parents. Here's a small little fic. I hope you enjoy! 💜

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Synopsis: While celebrating his/her first birthday, a few colleagues make note that Baby Ramsey looks and acts just like Tatum. Well, for the most part.

Word Count: ~1180

Warning/Rating: mature; language; brief mention of possible sexual misconduct

A/N: Some of these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry; Julian Santiago is an ENT that went to med school with Ethan and Tobias; Bryce is married to Erin Winters (a beautiful OC of @kat-tia801); also, if you are new, I have not released the name or gender of baby Ramsey on purpose--I want it to be revealed in his or her own story. Also, this is not preread! Please forgive my errors!

~🖤~

"Dr. Santiago!"

The tall, broad-shouldered man turns towards the lax voice, chirping his name. And he smiles.

"Ah, Bryce Lahela," he chuckles, giving the young surgeon a firm handshake. "Good to see you, and please, just Julian." The men raise their cups of punch in salutations before they survey the brightly decorated room. “Where’s your wife?”

“Probably with your wife,” Bryce suggests as he continues to nod hello to other people in the room. As if on a cue, a group of women squeal exuberantly from across the room. Bryce winces before offering a crooked smile at the sudden, ear-piercing screams. “Oh yeah–”

“Yep," Julian jovially gives an approving nod, "there they are.” He takes a sip of his drink, but is accidentally bumped into by another party-goer. "God,” he scoots out of their way, “can you believe this place?"

Bryce raises his eyebrows, observing the overly crowded room of joyful smiles. "Who's watching the patients?" He snickers. "I swear at least half of Edenbrook is here."

"No doubt," Julian grins. "The guest list was clearly Tate's doing. If it were up to Ethan, there probably wouldn't even be a party. Hell, he doesn't even tolerate this many people." They fall into knowing titters, taking another pull of their drinks. Suddenly, another man sneaks up between them, slapping their backs, causing each man to nearly spill their beverages.

"Fuck,” Julian mutters, instantly recognizing the obnoxious intruder. "They really did invite everyone– more like anyone..."

Bryce hides his curling lips. "Hi, Dr. Carrick–"

Tobias throws his arms around his colleagues' necks, pulling them conspiratorially close. "Please tell me there are booze at this thing."

"Dude, it’s 11:30 AM… on a Sunday… at a one-year-old's birthday party," Bryce enunciates as he raises an eyebrow.

"Clearly you've never been in the same room as two women you've slept with–"

“Pssh, because you’re the only man in the world that has game? Please,” Julian rolls his eyes.

Tobias clears his throat. “To clarify: two women… Same night." He shifts his guilty gray eyes to both men. "Last night.”

“Ha!" Julian snorts, "Oh yeah, there he is. There’s our angel Tobias,” Julian snickers, shaking his head. "You're fucked, bruh–"

"--in more ways than one," Bryce interjects, causing him and Julian to fall into belly laughs.

“Ha ha, laugh it up, fuckers–”

"It sounds like some of our favorite uncles are having a good time," Tatum giggles, twirling around with three chilled bottles of beer in her hand with a chunky blond twelve-month-old on her hip.  She hands the three men a beverage as she switches the baby to her other side. “Tobe–” she lowers her voice, “--we don’t say words like that here,” she snickers, the other men laughing along with her.

"Hey, sweetheart," Julian places a friendly peck on Tatum's forehead. "Shit, I can't believe Ramsey 2.0 is already a year old," Julian gently cups his hand around the baby's soft head.

Tatum playfully stares deadpan at her good friend. "You're telling me," she turns to look at her first born who is holding out their hand to an expressive Bryce.

“Time for another one,” Bryce sing-songs.

“And turn out like you and Erin? Three for the price of two pregnancies?” She covers her child’s ears again as she whispers, “Hell. No.”

"My God, Tate," Bryce starts, all three men clearly thinking the same thing as they admire the toddler. "This little one is like your mini-me. Same eyes, hair, nose," Bryce kindly smiles as tiny fingers grip tightly around his finger.  Tatum beams with joy as she takes in the moment.

“This is Ethan’s baby, right?” Tobias jokes as Tatum slaps his shoulder.

“Asshole,” Tatum sardonically grimaces. Tobias’s face grows serious as he quietly holds up a finger to his lips and points to the baby, causing the group of doctors to fall into quiet laughter.  “Anyway, we really appreciate you guys coming,” she kindly grins. “And seriously, help yourselves to anything.”  As the men give chaste kisses to Tatum’s cheek, they each wave goodbye to the little one who eagerly returns the sentiments by blowing slobbery kisses.

“Such a social butterfly,” Bryce mentions.

“Just like Tate,” Julian appreciatively nods his head before taking a sip of his beer.  “Thank fuck, can you imagine a baby like Ramsey?” He shudders.  Tobias titters, clinking the neck of his beer with his old colleague before taking a swig.

“Ethan’s not that bad,” Bryce defends.

Tobias nearly chokes on his beer as Julian wipes away his smile. “Look, Lahela. You know… Tatum’ed Ethan. We?” He motions his hand in between his body and Tobias. “We know the prick that is Ethan Ramsey–”

“Hey, I dealt with his wrath when I was an intern–”

“No, no. He was worse before he ever met Tatum.”

“Ah hell, really?” Bryce takes a sip of his beer. “He was that much worse?”

“Shit, this one time–”

“If I can have everyone’s attention please!” Tatum calls out in a booming, cheerful voice.  The three men along with the other guests turn towards her to listen.  She takes a moment to graciously and tearfully thank everyone for celebrating the special day with them, baby Ramsey cheesing in her arms the entire time.

“I think someone is ready for some cake,” she chuckles. “Rams?”

As if on cue, Ethan walks out with a small, single tier cake with a candle that matches the larger cake next to the snacks on the refreshment table. Tatum gently tucks her little one into the decorated high chair while Ethan lights the wick.  The little one’s blue eyes grow wide at the flame, eliciting a few awes and giggles from the gathered crowd. 

“Are we ready?” Tatum smiles as Ethan snakes an arm around her waist. “On the count of the three, we’ll all start singing ‘Happy Birthday’.” Her watery eyes find her husband’s icy blues as he gives her a reassuring squeeze.  She takes a deep breath as she looks back to her one-year-old baby. “One, two… three!”

All at once, everyone starts proudly singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

Except for Julian and Tobias.

Both men have their hands over their mouths, stifling their obnoxious laughs.  Bryce continues to sing, but glares at his colleagues.

“I can’t,” Tobias finishes his beer, walking away into the kitchen as Julian dabs the tears from his watering eyes.

“What is so funny?” Bryce whispers, grateful that the singing is much louder than their snickers.

“Look," Julian chuckles, "look at that kid right now.”

Bryce cranes his neck between party guests, finally catching a good view of Baby Ramsey. And his face falls while the corners of his mouth turn up. 

Damn, if looks could kill…

There, slumped in a high chair, was the angriest-looking baby anyone had ever seen, complete with deep furrowed brows, a frown, and a deep glare. 

“Holy geeze, that kid is mean-muggin’ everyone–and during ‘Happy Birthday’!” Bryce chokes out before falling into quiet titters.

Julian finally is able to control himself as he finishes his beer. “Oh yeah, there he is. There’s our Ethan.”

~🖤~

Tags (updated 9/26; please contact me if you wish to be added/removed)

PERMA

@21-wishes @alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPH

@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate

#open heart #choices open heart #choices oph #play choices #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x oc #ethan ramsey x f!oc #ethan ramsey x tatum erikson #ethan x tatum #tatum erikson #baby ramsey #tobias carrick #bryce lahela #julian santiago #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #oph fanfic #choices oph fanfic

[matcha-meow]

oh HEY, my first bajifuyu fic got 100 kudos on a03 so I've de-anon myself and posted it here as well~ enjoy!! TITLE: Your Latest Confession Is My Newest Obsession

PROMPT: Love Letter

SUMMARY: His friend doesn’t even spare him a glance as he keeps walking, “I’m his right hand man and his first line of defense. Nothing gets to Baji-san unless it goes through me first.”

OR

There’s something going on between Baji and Chifuyu - but Takemichi is just a simple bystander and he really doesn’t get it. Is this really how Captains and Vice-Captains are supposed to act?

---

The most confusing day of Takemichi’s life starts out completely normal - really. 

He gets a text message from Chifuyu, saying he’s waiting at the school entrance like usual. The only difference so far is that he’s being kept behind because of an overdue assignment and then after a stern lecture, he’s forced to leave his class later than anticipated. 

It’s only been a few minutes, but now Takemichi has to sprint through the hallways to keep his friend from waiting. Dodging other students left and right, Takemichi picks up the pace when he sees the gates within running distance. He then absolutelyjolts to a stop, nearly hitting the ground face down, when Takemichi realizes that it’s notjust Chifuyu waiting for him there. 

Chifuyu is talking to a girl in front of their school. She’s blushing, she’s nervous, she’s looking at anywhere but Chifuyu - then suddenly she’s pushing an envelope into the blond’s hands. 

The girl says something, shyly making eye contact again beneath her lashes and they are just so long and distracting. She’s fixing her curly hair and then messing them up again by twirling the locks with a pink manicured nail. She isso pretty, thinks Takemichi.

He feels a bit like a voyeur, watching this cute little thing pout her lips at Chifuyu as she's waiting for his response. A moment later she gets one.

Chifuyu smiles, gives her a thumbs up, and then tucks the letter into his school blazer. 

The girl covers her face in embarrassment, running back to her giggling group of friends encouraging her from the side.  

Takemichi isn’t stupid, he knows what he just witnessed - and congratulations are in order! He jogs the rest of the way, clamps a heavy hand on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and says

“ Dude ! She was so hot! Nice going, man!” 

“Um,” says Chifuyu, “...What? Why are you fist-bumping me?”

“C’mon, I saw the whole thing,” says Takemichi with a proud grin, “That girl gave you a love letter, right? And you said yes, didn’t you? So when’s the first date, huh?”

They’ve been moving along the sidewalk, with Takemichi’s arm wrapped around Chifuyu’s shoulder like they’re both in on a conspiracy - but Takemichi’s voice would have given them away with how loud he’s being.

“I can give you some pointers you know, Hina and I have been dating for a while now an-”

Takemichi gets thrown off balance when Chifuyu starts flailing, “You’ve got it all wrong!”

His friend scratches the back of his head sheepishly, looking off to the side.

“That confession letter wasn’t for me,” he says with an amused grin, “That was for Baji-san. Obviously. She just asked me if I could deliver it to him ‘cause Baji-san’s been skipping school lately and she’s been carrying that letter around for a while now.” 

Takemichi definitely doesn’t get it, “What do you mean, ‘obviously?’ Does this happen a lot or something?” 

Chifuyu shrugs, “Well, not a lot.” He contemplates the matter for a few seconds, “Maybe just twice this week, and a couple times this month.” He waves a hand in the air, as if brushing the whole issue aside, “It’s no problem to me, I live in the same building as Baji-san. It’s just a couple extra steps to drop it off for him.”

Takemichireally doesn’t get it now.

“And uh, you’ve just been playing messenger boy for him all this time?”

Chifuyu looks at Takemichi in wild disbelief, like he’s just announced to everyone that he’s a time-traveler. He also looks a little exasperated and maybe even disappointed. 

“I’m his Vice-Captain,” he says, like the title is already self explanatory, “Taking care of things like this is my duty. I’m not some messenger or mail carrier - I’m way more important than that.”

He then promptly takes out notone envelope - BUTTHREE envelopes from his school blazer and then systematically opens each one up, skimming the pages, making various sounds of disapproval, and then putting them back into the envelopes.

Takemichi watches this with no small amount of confusion.

“What,” he swallows and tries again, “What are you doing? I thought you said these were for Baji-kun.”

His friend doesn’t even spare him a glance as he keeps walking, “I’m his right hand man and his first line of defense. Nothing gets to Baji-san unless it goes through me first.”  

As they pass by a trash can, Chifuyu dumps the first two letters into the bin.

“Those girls weren’t any good,” he says by way of explanation, “They wouldn’t add any value to Baji-san’s life.”

Takemichi has no choice but to keep up - both with the conversation and with the stride. He’s walking a little faster now so he can turn towards Chifuyu and see his expression as they’re talking. He needs some more context here.

“Ok, but how would you know that? And does Baji-kun know you’re doing that? Did he ask you to go through all his fan mail, too? Are you vetting all his future girlfriends for him - is that what Vice-Captains do now?”

Chifuyu laughs, “The future of Toman is directly affected by Baji-san’s happiness. He doesn’t need to ask me to do this.” 

Takemichi just says what’s on his mind, “I really don’t get it. You’ve completely lost me.”

They aren’t able to continue the conversation, which might be for better or for worse, because they've reached their headquarters and other members are joining them in the park. The two of them make their rounds together, high-fiving comrades and exchanging pleasantries. 

At one point, Baji Keisuke joins them.

“Ah, Baji-san!” Chifuyu brightens up immediately, “This is for you,” he offers the envelope with both hands and looks for a sign of approval. “There were some others this week, but I don’t think they were worth reading.”

Maybe it’s his imagination, but Takemichi thinks Baji’s expression is a little strained.

“Chifuyu, you need to stop letting these girls run you over.” He smirks, “Are you any different from a personal messenger now?”

“Haha, that’s what I said!” shouts Takemichi, with a fist pump in the air, at last finding his validation.

Baji still takes the letter, doesn’t read it, folds it up twice, and then deposits it somewhere in his clothes. They don’t talk about it for the rest of the meeting. Chifuyu might grumble a bit under his breath, “If I don’t do this, Baji-san wouldn’t have any free time. He just getsso much mail.” 

Takemichi definitely pretends he doesn’t hear the blond justify the rest of the chores he’s taken upon himself for the sake of Baji’s quality of life. He’s also not really paying attention to the meeting and then suddenly it’s over before he realizes.

The upper heads are done discussing the upcoming changes, warning everyone to not pick fights with other gangs right now while tensions are high and the police are cracking down on criminal activity. There’s nothing planned for after this, so Takemichi is content to just say bye to his friends and head out - putting his weird interactions with Chifuyu aside. 

He gets as far as the park exit before someone pulls him back, none too roughly, but the grip is firm and tells him that his companion is stronger than him. Takemichi definitely doesn’t let out a yelp when he’s turned faced-to-face with Baji suddenly. 

“Hey,” says the First Division Captain, staring down at him with a menacing smile. 

 “B-Baji-kun?” 

“What did that girl look like?”

“Um,” he’s not sure he’s following this conversation - but the intimidation radiating out of the other boy has his brain working on overdrive and he's thinking fast. “You mean, the girl…that gave Chifuyu that confession letter?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” says Takemichi, “She was really pretty.” 

“Pretty?”

“Yeah like super pretty, don’t tell Hina, but like -” and then Takemichi launches into an explanation that is probably going into too much detail, but it’s been a really confusing day. That girl was so smokin’ hot and Chifuyu didn’t look twice at her. He didn’t even try to get her number for himself, he just handed her over to Baji like she was some errand, who does that?

And at first he thought Baji didn’t care too, but maybe he does. 

“...and like her skirt wassoooo short, I could totally see her-”

The hand on his shoulder pats him very roughly twice, almost awkwardly, signaling that it’s enough. The impact is so strong it almost sends him tumbling.

“Ah, I see,” says Baji with a quick glance over his shoulder and then, “And this is the girl that Chifuyu said was the best? This is the type of girl that Chifuyu likes?”

“Uhhhhhh,” Takemichi actually thinks about it all over again, “Actually he said it’s what you would like best?”  

There’s a moment of silence.

“Did he look interested in her or not?”

“...Yes?”

Baji looks at him in a similar way that Chifuyu had - like they were both very done and very disappointed in him. Perhaps Chifuyu had actually learned this look from Baji.

Takemichi isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, but he’s released from the grip with a tired sigh. 

“Don’t tell Chifuyu I asked about her, ok?”

Oh,

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him know you second guessed his opinion! She really was pretty - I didn’t get to see the other girls, but I think-”

“That’s not,” starts Baji, narrowing his eyes at something in the distance. “That’s not what I meant. Actually, nevermind.”

He watches as the other Toman member heads back to the group, most likely to finish up a Captains meeting. Baji throws him a quick wave over his shoulder to thank him for his time. As confusing as a time that it was. But at least Takemichi thinks he might get it now.

It starts to become a little more clear, the hesitancy in which Baji approaches his Vice-Captain, telling him to go home first. Takemichi is too far to hear their exact conversation, but he thinks he hears Chifuyu saying he doesn’t mind staying until the post-meeting is over. 

They’re walking further now, so he sees rather than hears Baji shake his head and invite Chifuyu to might as well come to the meeting then. If he’s just going to stick around, he can at least be useful or something.

As they pass by the park area trash receptacles, Baji dumps the contents of the last letter inside. It happens so quickly, so smoothly that it’s impossible for the boy beside him to have noticed the fate of Baji’s latest suitor’s confession. And maybe Chifuyu also hasn’t noticed what’s been developing between the two of them as well. 

Takemichi’s confusing day finally comes to an end, when he realizes

Baji hasn’t stopped looking at Chifuyu the entire meeting.

#bajifuyu #chifuyu matsuno #matsuno chifuyu #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokrev fanfic #tokyo revengers fanfiction #bajifuyu fanfic #matcha writes bjfy

[automatonkisser]

LOOKS AT U INTENSELY. 👋👬😘💃 FOR DOTTORE

YAYAAYAY THANK U 💛

👋 - Do you like to hold hands? What are their hands like?

ough okay first thought is just. they are BIG. very very big compared to silvio's....HOWEVER i also kind of noticed that his fingers actually seem pretty slender in certain panels, especially compared to how his general stature is more broad....i'm not sure if this was a conscious choice regarding his character design or just a part of the drawing style but either way that's how i think of them!! anyway considering his size they are still a lot bigger than silvio's ://) i also imagine his gloves to feel very soft and velvety....i'm honestly still very undecided about what i think his "skin" feels like - at his point like to imagine it as fairly lifelike, but still recognizable as artificial in some ways. in my mind it's kinda like...somewhere between touching human skin and a wax figure lmao. maybe a bit uncanny if u're not used to it but not unpleasant. i can't remember if there's anything in canon proving me otherwise but i also kinda think he wouldn't have any internal body heat but i think his skin could be warmed up...by holding hands perhaps...

speaking of which i aactuaalllyyy don't think they'd be that big on holding hands whenever they're out and about, partially because silvio prefers to sit on dottore's shoulder or get carried by him hehe :') i do imagine that dottore enjoys just taking silvio's hands every once in a while whenever they're just sitting around to take them between his own just because he thinks it's kind of hilariously cute how small they are. also i think he doesn't do it often but the first time dottore took his gloves off to touch silvios hands was very special......

👬 - What kind of hugs do they give? (Do they lift you off your feet? Bear hug you? Softly cuddle you?)

HE DEFINITELY LIFTS SILVIO OFF HIS FEET AWUWHWUWH. i guess it kinda comes naturally w their height difference but as i've mentioned silvio also enjoys being carried by him and getting picked up so he can climb around on him lmao. i also like to imagine dottore just twirling him around or throwing him in the air a lil bit...juggling that little dude...idk i guess i just think their hugs would be very playful <3 I ALSO BELIEVE HIS CHEST AND BELLY WOULD BE VERY SOFT. i know he's made of metal and wood and whatever but this is my fantasy and i can do whatever i want forever. silvio DEMANDS to be given bear hugs so he can burry his face in there.

😘 - Do they kiss your hands, cheeks, forehead etc? What kind of not-on-the-lips kisses do they give most?

HAND KISSES I AM ACTUALLY THINKING SO MUCH ABOUT HAND KISSES AHEEM HEEM. i think sometimes he'd do it in a very gallant and intimate way, kneeling in front of silvio, looking up at him while he takes his time to press kisses to his palm and back of his hand, all the way up to his wrist.....sometimes it'd just be him casually taking silvio's hand to press a quick little kiss to it while they're sitting together somewhere....also silvio caressing dottore's face and him grabbing his hand so he can press a kiss to his palm AAAAAAHHHH (smashes a cup over my head) okay i'm fine

💃 - Do you ever dance together?

waah yeah :) i think dottore is definitely a good dancer and tries teaching silvio different styles of dancing (w varying degrees of success lmao)...some moves would probably prove to be a little difficult due to their height difference but it's fine they can improvise <3 i'm also so stupidly gay for the thought of dottore actually being so gentle during this...confidently but softly leading silvio along, making sure he can follow, holding him when he stumbles so he doesn't fall.......sometimes they do enjoy dancing slowly either for the intimacy of it or because they're genuinely practicing, but we're talking about dottore here so obviously i think he would also like to get a bit more bold and theatrical with it, which silvio also enjoys especially because he likes being thrown around, twirled, dipped....sometimes their dancing probably becomes a little acrobatic. dottore definitely likes putting on a show whether it's a more classical dance or they're just free-styling it :')

#I GOTTA GO TO SLEEP BUT I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE THESE DOWN AND NOW I WILL KEEP THINKING ABOUT THIS. #HOPEFULLY IT WILL CARRY OVER INTO MY DREAMS <3 #s: eat your heart out 🫀 #letters 💌