Light Angst - Blog Posts

STAN TWINS BONDING IDEAAAA

OK SO. I was watching the movie WALL-E with my little sister a few nights ago, and I thought: What if the Stan twins watched it?

Obviously Mabel probably would make them watch it bc its a romance and she loves those, but it would also be relatively new in the GF timeline (the movie came out in 2008 so it would only be 5-ish years old in 2013)

HOWEVER.

The end of the movie end with EVE and WALL-E finally getting together, but not before EVE has to fix WALL-E. And what happens after that?

WALL-E HAS NO MEMORIES.

So I was thinking that the Stans would get sorta emotional at that part because like. They kinda had to go through the same thing? I mean, OBVIOUSLY THEY ARE NOT A COUPLE (do NOT reblog and tag as a ship or so help me), but the concept is similar.

Jut a silly, angst-filled idea I had. Carry on with your day :)

Redrawing my fav tpot 16 scene!!

Scene !!

My version >: D

I like it, its cool. I think

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I've forgotten about you, haven't i? You told me you liked apples.

Reminds me of The Nightly Manor.

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Fractures in the Silence

When a moment of anger turns into a lasting scar, both Shanks and the one he loves must learn how to heal from wounds they never meant to inflict.

shanks x reader ౨ৎ🖤 ONE SHOT

main characters: shanks

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: angst, sfw, angst with comfort

words count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The tavern was loud with laughter, the scent of spiced rum and sea salt thick in the air. The evening had started light, stories swapping like currency, the Red-Haired Pirates gathered together in their floating haven. You leaned against the wall, watching them with a small, fond smile. Shanks’ voice rang louder than the rest, that familiar carefree grin on his face — but there was tension in his shoulders tonight. Something was off.

You knew him better than most did. The way his laughter faltered half a second too soon, how his jaw clenched when no one was looking. It wasn’t the drink. It was something heavier. A rumor? A betrayal? You weren’t sure.

But it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

“Captain,” Benn Beckman’s voice was low, cautious. “We can deal with this later.”

Shanks scoffed, slamming his cup down on the table hard enough to spill rum across the wood. “Later’s too damn late.”

You stepped forward, reaching for his arm gently. “Hey,” you murmured, “whatever it is, it’s not worth losing your head over tonight. You’ll handle it. You always do.”

But his eyes — dark, stormy, and burning with a mix of anger and helplessness — didn’t soften. Not like they usually did when you spoke to him. Not this time.

And then it happened. Too fast to stop it.

His hand shot out, sharp and unthinking, an open palm meant for the air — a gesture born from frustration, meant to chase away his demons, not hurt you.

But you were too close.

The slap connected with your cheek, a crack splitting the room’s noise in two. The sting bloomed instantly, white-hot against your skin. A sharp, horrible silence swallowed the room whole.

Shanks froze.

His eyes widened in horror, color draining from his face as if he couldn’t comprehend what his own hand had done. You blinked at him, your own shock mirrored in his expression, your skin throbbing.

“I—” his voice broke, barely a whisper. “Y/N…”

You forced a tight, almost too-wide smile, the taste of copper on your tongue. “It’s fine,” you said too quickly, waving a hand like you could swat away the moment. “Just… an accident. No big deal.”

But you saw it in his face. The guilt. The way his hand trembled as he lowered it. The way his whole body seemed to recoil from itself.

Benn Beckman stood up then, murmuring something about giving you both space as the rest of the crew quietly filed out, heavy boots against wood the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

You didn’t look at Shanks. Not when the world was spinning, not when you felt too much and too little all at once.

“You should sit,” he rasped, voice frayed.

“I’m fine.”

But you weren’t.

And for the days that followed, you kept pretending.

The bruise faded quickly enough, but the damage didn’t. Not the kind you could see.

Every time Shanks lifted his hand to run it through his hair, to gesture wildly in a story, to reach for you — you flinched.

It was a small thing, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. But he saw it every time. And every time it cut deeper than any blade could.

He stopped raising his hands altogether.

Stopped reaching.

And the distance between you, once so easy, so natural, stretched like a wound neither of you could name.

“Y/N,” he tried, days later, as you sat alone on the deck under a half-lit sky.

You didn’t look up. Couldn’t.

“I… I need to say something.”

You forced a weak smile, pulling your knees to your chest. “You don’t have to. It was an accident. I get it.”

“But you’re scared of me.”

The words cracked in his throat like breaking glass. You finally looked up, meeting his gaze — and saw it. The raw, aching guilt in his eyes. The weight he’d been carrying since that night.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lied.

His shoulders sagged. “Y/N… please. Don’t… don’t lie to me.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not scared of you. I just…” You trailed off, closing your eyes as the memory hit you again, unbidden. The sting. The shock. The way your body instinctively flinched when he moved too quickly now, no matter how much you told yourself it wasn’t real.

“I hate that I did this to you,” he whispered. “I swear on my life — on the sea, on everything I am — I never wanted to hurt you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, hot and blinding. “I know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with all the things neither of you could say.

“I love you, Y/N,” Shanks said quietly. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have a reason to flinch around me again.”

You swallowed, wiping your cheek roughly. “I love you too, you stupid idiot.”

A broken, shaky laugh escaped him then — the first real sound in days. He didn’t move closer, didn’t reach for you. Instead, he sat a few feet away, letting the space stay. Letting you control it.

“Can I tell you a story?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

And so he talked. About old battles, about mistakes, about fear and fury and the weight of being captain. About how sometimes anger takes the shape of something monstrous when you’re too exhausted to hold it in.

About how it doesn’t excuse anything.

But how it could maybe, one day, be forgiven.

By the time the sun rose, the space between you felt a little less jagged.

Weeks passed. It wasn’t perfect. You still flinched sometimes. Shanks still froze every time you did. But little by little, the distance closed.

The first time he reached for your hand again, he moved slow — giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

His calloused fingers brushed yours gently, and your heart stuttered. But you didn’t flinch.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

And you were.

Not all the way. Not yet.

But enough to hold on.

Enough to let him stay.

Enough to know you’d both heal, slowly, piece by piece, in the quiet places between the crashing waves.

And maybe one day, the memory would stop hurting.

But for now, his hand in yours was enough.

It was hope.

Something not quite right

a/n: I’ve decided that, instead of simply putting my thoughts and headcanons and ideas as simple and quick drafts, to just instead start actually writing it all.

summary: Kuai Liang’s (Sub-Zero) last thoughts about Hanzo during the timeline resetting.

warnings: hurt/no comfort (?), canon character death, probably not properly tagged, angst. not necessarily written as couple, could be considered as platonic and viceversa.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was all happening so fast. The world, disappearing around them. The trees, the sky, everything, all turning into nothing in mere seconds. Had Kronika won? For the Elder Gods, he begged not.

Maybe Liu Kang had won? Maybe he was now restarting everything with the Hourglass. Restart everything. All back to zero. Would he remember his life? Would he remember his family? His parents, his brothers, his friends and the people important for him. Would Kuai Liang be able to remember any of them? Probably not. But if he didn’t remember anything or anyone, what about…

Hanzo.

It felt weird. Knowing he would probably not remember him. That didn’t seemed all that fair, did it? After all their years of rivalry, of hatred. It took them more than 10 years to finally feel comfortable by each other’s side, to be able for Hanzo to let go of his rage. To manage it in a healthier way. And now, all of that effort would end up in the trash. Like garbage. It suddenly all felt useless. All that effort spent in helping each other and themselves, it would now all be thrown away.

And it made him feel indignation. On Hanzo’s behalf. On Bi-Han’s behalf.

This just wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t they all just have normal, peaceful lives? When had it all went to shit? Kuai Liang felt like a petulant child throwing a tantrum because he didn’t got the toy he wanted. But it still didn’t felt fair. Why couldn’t they just have peaceful, calm lives?

Bi-Han didn’t deserve to get blamed and murdered for crimes he didn’t commit. Hanzo didn’t deserve to have his family murdered, get tricked by that sorcerer and have his rage be misguided for years. Didn’t they deserve a happy ending too? When did things get so complicated?

‘I wonder what you would think, Hanzo. Would you be angry too, if you were still here?’

Maybe, in this new timeline, things will be better. Maybe Bi-Han won’t suffer for something he didn’t do. Maybe Smoke won’t die this time. Maybe Hanzo…

Or maybe they wouldn’t even know each other this time. Or maybe this whole train of thoughts was useless after all.

Danny Phantom Head Canon - Dani’s Shadow

A ghost’s trauma tends to stick around in one form or another, and reminders are never pleasant.

TL;DR:

Regardless of her physical appearance, current health, and stability, Dani/Ellie’s shadow always appears to be slightly dripping or melting, and more so in ghost form. It’s not overly obvious in human form, and people who notice tend to dismiss it as a trick of the eye.

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

Ellie can’t escape her shadow. It catches the corner of her eye when she’s least expecting it, and her smile wavers. The dripping edges, that half melted arm… Dani looks away. She was never meant to survive.

Danny asks if she’s alright when she doesn’t respond as he’s telling her about his latest scuffle with Skulker, and Dani pastes on a grin, laughing and giving some inane excuse. Of course she’s alright. She’s fine, just fine.

Danielle Dani Ellie it’s Ellie, she’s her own person isn’t she? cracks a joke about the sequel being better than the original, and she’s more than just a failed copy, right? She doesn’t even have her own name.

Danny smiles and laughs, but if his eyes are concerned as he meets hers, carefully avoiding looking at her shadow, neither of them says anything.

He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know how to handle any of this, let alone raise the clone/cousin/sister/daughter he never asked for, and she won’t make him.

She leaves again, and she enjoys traveling, really, she does, but… does she really want to do it alone?

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

Ellie eventually gains confidence in herself, both as her own person, and as Danny’s clone. Just like any kid taking after their parent, sharing his DNA doesn’t change the fact that she’s still her own unique person.

Eventually even the clone jokes are less of a nervous traumatic response and more because she finds them genuinely funny. (Her sense of humor and coping mechanisms definitely take after Danny. Death jokes anyone?)

One day, the dripping, melting form of her shadow will no longer haunt her, but for now… she’s taking it one day at a time.

Take My Hand, Give Me Your Soul and Fire

Pairing: Zack Addy/Seeley Booth

Summary: A rewrite based on 1x09 The Man in the Fallout Shelter where Zack finds it odd that he keeps bumping into Booth at every turn even though they're locked down in the lab. He discovers something about himself while observing him.

Part: 1/3

Word count: 4.5k

Song: Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol

My bones ache, my skin feels cold 

And I’m getting so tired and so old 

Zack winces as the needle pricks his buttock. He isn’t the biggest fan of getting shots but, if it means not dying of Valley fever, then he can set aside his feelings for the pointed instrument momentarily. He slides his pants back up, not that he had lowered them much, and glances awkwardly between his colleagues and the floor as they talk about what to do next now that they’re aware of side effects or symptoms they should look out for. 

For now, they’re told to get some rest. Hal, the head of the hazmat team, bids them a good night and reasures them not to be too worried before packing up the equipment. Once they leave the medico-legal lab, it’s his team’s turn to complain about their ruined holiday plans. Well, everyone except for one person. 

“You know what?” Booth says humorously. “I’ve never realized how pretty all this shiny stuff is.” 

The others watch him with mixed feelings of awe and jealousy solely for the fact that Booth is the only one with the preferable side effects. There’s not much that they can do other than discuss how they should get some sleep and then regroup in the morning to examine the unidentified remains now that they have the time to do so. Once the sleeping bags are brought in, everyone grabs a sleeping bag before dispersing to their little nooks. 

Hodgins claps the back of Zack’s shoulder. “I’m calling our workstation if you want to bunk with me.” 

Zack doesn’t say anything but nods as he considers taking Hodgins’ offer, it’s the most logical seeing as they’re closer and more accustomed to each other’s presence. Plus, they’ve shared the same sleeping area before after having a few too many drinks while watching anticipated basketball games. There was no other reason as to why he shouldn’t. 

He’s ready to follow Hodgins and grab a sleeping bag from the lone pile when his eyes latch on to the only other person who’s been quietly staring at the lab’s light fixtures. Booth turns away from the twinkling lights and locks eyes with him, the doltish smile still plastered across his face. Panic shoots up Zack’s chest and bubbles at the cusp of his throat as he looks for something to say. 

Booth is acknowledging him, and although he might not be saying anything he’s maintaining eye contact, which is something he isn’t used to. He feels like he’s under some kind of spotlight. 

“You see this?” Booth asks him as glances back at the lights, his eyes speckled with their reflection. “Wow, I mean these are… beautiful.” 

Zack’s fingers twitch from where they hang uselessly by his side. His eyes flit from one side of the lab to the other in a last-ditch effort at shifting Booth’s attention from him onto something else. There’s no one else in the lab other than the two of them. 

“Uh, Agent Booth?” 

All he receives is a noncommittal, “Yeah?” 

“Shouldn’t you be with Dr. Brennan?” 

At the mention of the anthropologist’s name, Booth turns, his brown eyes on him once more. 

“Bones?” he asks. Zack nods. “Should I be?” 

“I suppose not, but you always accompany her wherever she goes.” 

Booth lightly scoffs. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do,” he refutes. He’s not sure where his sudden burst of dissent is coming from but it doesn’t burrow itself back down immediately. “You tend to seek her out whenever you’re assigned to a case that requires the Jeffersonian’s resources.” 

“Because the FBI and the Jeffersonian have an agreement.” 

Zack shakes his head. “Although that’s true you never seek the others. You always seek out Dr. Brennan specifically.” 

Booth’s eyes shift and there’s an odd emotion in them Zack can’t quite identify (not that he can recognize most of the looks people give him anyway). All he knows is Booth would never give him this type of look during their regular, albeit limited, interactions. 

“Yeah well,” Booth scratches at the corner of his mouth and sniffs, “Dr. Goodman assigned her as the leader of your squint team, she’s the most qualified to be in and out of the field when it comes to our joint forces… we work well together.” 

“We as in?” 

“The FBI and the Jeffersonian,” Booth says quickly with an awkward smile. 

Zack doesn’t know what to make of that so he agrees. “Right.” 

“Right.” 

Booth goes back to staring at the lights. Zack sighs and makes up his mind to get the man’s attention again. He carefully makes his way over and lays a hand on Booth’s arm. It works and he earns a mildly confused Booth staring at the sudden touch. 

“Let’s go find Dr.Brennan,” he says with much effort. Zack feels like his heart’s going to shoot out of his chest; he’s sure Booth would be able to pinpoint his location with the sound alone if he had a gun trained on him in a dark room. “She’ll know what to do with you and I’ll get to keep all of my fingers.” 

“Why wouldn’t you keep all of your fingers?” he asks, genuinely confused. 

“Because I’m laying them on you?” 

Booth’s eyes soften.“You know I don’t mean it when I threaten you and Hodgins, right? I’d never hurt you.” 

Zack almost wishes the agent would threaten to shoot him and stuff his lanky body somewhere obscure where no one would find him. However, something inside of him grows fond of this side of Booth he’s never let him see and he learns why. It isn’t difficult to develop some kind of soft spot for him. 

The corners of his lips twitch upward. “Of course I do.” 

Booth returns his attention to look ahead of them, his eyes following the lights from time to time as they make their way to Brennan’s office. Zack’s sure he hears the FBI agent mutter some things under his breath but pays no attention to his hallucinogenic ramblings; he’s focused on getting Booth to Brennan in one piece and bruiseless… if only Booth could stop looking up at the lights every five seconds. 

*

“Where are you going?” 

“To the restroom,” Zack answers, showing Hodgins the packaged toothbrush and toothpaste they were provided with. “I just remembered that I haven’t brushed my teeth.” 

Hodgins made a sound of acknowledgment before settling comfortably into his sleeping bag and tucking the fabric beneath his arms. 

“If you find any eggnog that managed to survive the bone dust, bring it over.” 

Zack gives a short laugh. “No promises.” 

He can practically hear Hodgins roll his eyes and takes that as his cue to leave before he gets something thrown at the back of his head. 

The bathroom’s empty like it typically is even in hours of service. Still, Zack waits a few seconds to see if anyone’s inside before walking over to a sink and running his toothbrush under the faucet. The bristles are harsh on his gums but he powers through it finding that he’ll find it considerably worse if he doesn’t brush at all. 

He rests a palm on the cold counter and leans into it, humming to himself as he gets into every crevice that he can. Zack rolls his head onto his shoulder and eases into the peaceful quiet especially after the commotion where everyone had been so quick to point the finger at one another. The quiet felt duly needed and he’s grateful for it. 

However, as if a testament to his dwindling luck, the door to the restroom opens and Zack looks up at the mirror to see a quiet and mild-tempered Booth waltzing in. Well, the mild-tempered part doesn’t last for long as the man’s entire demeanor changes the second he realizes he isn’t alone inside the men’s restroom. Zack almost finds it endearing actually. The sudden change in conduct reminds him of his sister’s golden retriever when he returns home for the holidays: bright, captivating eyes, perked ears, and a wagging tail that smacks him when she begs for pets. 

No, he reminds himself. Booth isn’t a dog and he doesn’t have a tail — but if he did, it would definitely be wagging, he concludes. 

“Zack,” the man breathes out a sigh of… relief? 

Zack quickly looks away from the mirror to spit in the sink. “Booth, what are you doing here?” 

“I was looking for —” he stops to look for the right words to say “— the restroom.” 

Zack cups a hand of water and rinses out the toothpaste before using the sleeve of his graphic tee to wipe away the remaining water that clung to the corners of his mouth. 

“Well, I just finished up here.” He finds that he can’t keep the eye contact Booth’s been so insistent on holding with him anymore and he looks down at the wet sink. “Restroom’s all yours.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’m not rushing you.” 

He rinses his brush and taps it against the edge of the basin all the while stealing a glance at Booth; he finds it odd that the man hasn’t moved. Zack decides to crack a little joke with Booth and see where he is in terms of reality while putting his toiletries away. No one really knows how long it’ll take for the effects to wear off. 

“So, did you finally wear Dr. Brennan’s patience down or did Angela kick you out?” 

No response. 

Okay, maybe Booth’s back to ignoring him. That’s fine with him, he knows what to do when Booth isn’t acknowledging him anyway. It’s clockwork. 

“I’m sorry by the way,” he muses. “I didn’t mean to blame you for keeping us here at the lab, I was just annoyed that you brought something for Brennan to —” 

The sound of footsteps causes him to look up at the mirror and see Booth approaching him. There’s something off about him, an indecipherable look in his eyes. It’s quick, like the snap of a rubber band tenfold, but noticeable all the same. Zack barely has any time to turn around and face him by the time Booth’s standing directly in front of him, the proximity of his broad chest making him take a step back until he’s met with the cold countertop digging into his lower back. His eyes snap up to meet Booth’s own, who are watching him curiously. 

“Why do you keep bringing up Bones?” 

Zack feels like prey being stared down by a predator, save for the fear that would usually be instilled in the prey, he feels small. There was something else deep within him. The sensation roiling in his abdomen wasn’t dread he knew that much, but it was disquieting nonetheless. He swallows anxiously and the motion triggers something in the man in front of him. 

Booth leans in closer and Zack feels his chest press against his own. It’s warm unlike the room they’re in, the dichotomy between his warmth and the cold marble drove him crazy, like a circuit on the fritz. He quickly shot his hands up and put them between them to stop the sensation. His palms pressed against Booth’s shirt while the pads of his fingers connected with exposed skin just above the seams. The feeling crackles and burns his fingers like exposed wire. 

It did nothing to calm the feeling. 

“Dr. Brennan this. Dr. Brennan that.” Booth’s breath fans over his cheek as he leans down, his arms caging Zack in. “You’re driving me crazy.” 

Zack finds it odd that Booth’s breath is fresh and minty. He assumed Booth had also forgotten to brush his teeth, like he had, and had therefore entered the restroom to do so but now he isn’t sure. 

“I’m sorry,” he pushes through a single breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just thought that, since the two of you work together, you’d appreciate spending more time with her. I’m surprised you’ve even acknowledged me for this long.” 

“I already spend enough time with her during work, Zack.” His body trembles at the way his name sounds coming from Booth’s lips. “Ever thought that maybe I felt intimidated by you? All that knowledge stored inside that pretty little head of yours and I don’t know what to say without making a fool out of myself in front of you?” 

Zack blinks. Huh? 

Before he can ask what he meant, ask for some type of clarification, Booth withdraws his arms and takes a step back. Zack feels his skin prickle at the cold that rushes over him and finds that he misses the warmth, the way his body felt pressed against Booth’s, he craves its comfort and pulls closer — he snaps himself out of his thoughts and looks up to see that Booth is still standing close, brown eyes dark and piercing. His body betrays him and he shivers. 

They stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, when Zack finally gains the ability to speak.

“It’s late,” he whispers. Booth nods. “I told Hodgins I was only going to go brush my teeth. He’s probably taken my sleeping bag hostage by now.” 

Booth blinks and his gaze softens. “You were getting ready for bed?” 

Zack nods, not fully trusting his voice. 

“Sorry for keeping you up.” 

Heat rushes up Zack’s face, he’s unsure why. He wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof. 

“It’s okay.” 

* 

“What’s he doing here?” 

Hodgins is no longer inside his sleeping bag by the time the two of them get back to the shared sleeping space. It looks as though his friend had been ready to go looking for him if he hadn’t come back the moment he had… he isn’t even sure how he’d attempt to explain why Booth had pinned him against the bathroom counter if he had found them. In all honesty, he still isn’t sure how to explain it to himself. 

Some sort of display of dominance? Zack’s already seen Booth do that on a few occasions but he’s proven his dominance over him on multiple occasions through a multitude of ways. This time it felt different. 

Ugh, he really — really — wants to jump off of the Jeffersonian’s roof. Lucky, or rather unlucky for him, they’re in quarantine and he didn’t have access to it. 

“He followed me here,” he whispers to Hodgins as he makes his way over to his sleeping bag. 

“You know I’m just high, not deaf, right?” 

“Shut it, Shrooms.” Hodgins points at him and then shoots a mildly annoyed look at Zack. “I can’t believe out of all of us he’s the one who gets to be blissfully stoned out of his mind.” 

So far, from how he’s seen Booth act, Zack’s not sure he wants to be blissed out of his mind. He’d rather be in control of himself, thank you very much. 

Booth walks over to a shelf stocked full of all sorts of equipment and pulls something out of its proper place. He turns it over in his hands, reading the label if it has one before putting it back to grab something else. If it doesn’t have a label he proceeds to ask Hodgins, who only has so much patience before he’s itching at the band on his wrist, what it is. Zack steps in and answers a few of Booth’s questions to diffuse the situation. 

Booth grows quiet for a few moments… before moving onto the next shelf and pulling something else to examine. Zack goes to take it out of his hand and shush him before he can ask but he’s too late. 

“So what does this –” 

“Alright, out.” Hodgins shoots up into a seated position. “Both of you need to go find somewhere else to sleep.” 

Zack scrunches his brow in confusion. “Both of us? C’mon —” 

“Yes, both of you. You brought your little friend here and he’s worn my patience down enough.” 

Zack groans and, not wanting to put up a fight, pulls both his sleeping bag and pillow off of the observation table. He doesn’t even attempt to roll it back up and lets it drag across the floor as he makes his way to the door. When he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, Zack turns to look at Booth and glares at him. 

“You heard him.” 

Booth falls into step with him. “Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to my office.” 

“You have an office?” 

“Kinf of… not really,” he says as he tries to find the right words to use. “I call it my office but it’s more of a workstation than an actual office. There’s a couch thrown in there by the Jeffersonian but it’s nothing like Dr. Brennan’s.” 

“Huh. For some reason, I never entertained the idea that you'd have an office.” 

Zack spares him a glance. “Not sure why you’d waste a second of your day wondering if I had an office or not.” 

Booth hums as if reminding himself of something. “Right.” 

Zack looks up to see him staring straight ahead, a pensive notch carved on his brow. He decides not to question what that look meant, it’s far too late and Booth’s been enough of a pain in the ass as of tonight. He just wants to sleep and hopes that somehow they will all be given the green light to go home when they wake in the morning. 

Zack smiles at the sight of his ‘office’ door and pushes it. Thankfully, it’s a part of the quarantine zone and it opens without much resistance. Booth follows close behind and gives a quick look around, not that there’s much to look at. 

He doesn’t have much in there, not many personal things at least. He keeps most of his belongings in his apartment, of course, but a few things are scattered throughout his workspace like his favorite books mixed in with research texts and trinkets from shows or comics he enjoys. Besides that, he has a throw pillow his little brother made him a few years back when he first moved out to DC. It was one of the first sewing projects he made in his art class that had sturdy enough stitches in it to have not fallen apart during the move. He makes his way over to the couch and fluffs the pillow before returning it to its rightful spot. 

Right, they still need to figure sleeping arrangements out. There’s enough room for Booth to set up his sleeping bag parallel to the couch if he moves the cart of tools closer to the shelf. Zack turns to instruct him to do as such when he realizes a crucial detail. 

“Where’s your sleeping bag?” 

“My what?” Booth’s confusion only serves to raise Zack’s eyebrows… until he remembers and snaps his fingers. “Oh right, I left it with your boss.” 

“You left it with Dr. Brennan?” 

He shakes his head. “Your boss’ boss.” 

Was that who Booth was with prior to finding him in the restroom? He hadn’t spoken much with the others after they had all gone their separate ways but it wasn’t too far of an assumption that Booth would’ve bunked with Dr. Goodman; Booth never did fit the type of person that likes being alone. 

“If you left it with Dr. Goodman, then why aren’t you with him?” 

“I – good question – I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Eh.” 

Zack smacks a hand over his face. “Okay well you can either return to Goodman so you can sleep in your own sleeping bag, or –” he raises the sleeping bag “– you can stay here and take mine.” 

The gesture surprises both him and Booth. He’s not sure why he’s giving Booth an option; knowing Booth, he would take the option to spend as little time with the socially awkward assistant anthropologist. But this new side of Booth? Zack isn’t sure what he’d do now… and he’s a little curious as to what he’ll do. Besides he would feel bad for kicking him out after Hodgins had done the same. 

“You’re letting me bunk with you?” 

Zack shrugs and furthers the man into making a decision by motioning Booth to take the lump of fabric in his hand. “I’m being nice and letting you take this rather than the cramped couch.” 

Booth smiles in that dopey way he’s been doing since receiving the shot. Even his eyes have this odd attentiveness to Zack in a way he’s still not used to… he’s not quite sure what to make of it or how it’s related to the side effects of the shot. 

“You are nice.”

Zack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That’s what I just said?” 

“I –” Booth sighs and fails to continue his thought before taking the sleeping bag. “Never mind.” 

Silence falls over them as they tend to their sleeping arrangements. Zack plops the pillow on one end before dropping himself onto the couch and hugging his brother’s throw pillow to his chest. He stares up at the ceiling and listens as Booth zips himself into the sleeping bag, the rustling fading as he settles into it. 

“These are far more comfortable than the army–mandated ones we got in Kosovo.” 

Zack stays quiet for a good second before something in him prompts him to blurt out: “Army–mandated?” 

“Yeah —” he hears Booth take a deep breath “— we never got much sleep but when we did, and if we were lucky, we’d get a few hours of sleep in these really thin sleeping bags. We were extremely lucky to even get them sometimes.” 

“That sounds terrible.” 

“It was terrible,” he chuckles quietly. “You wouldn’t believe the places we used to get some shut-eye.” 

“Try me. I’ll listen,” Zack says quietly when he doesn’t say anything else. Booth looks up and they lock eyes, curious eyes chipping at his to find some answer. “Where else did you sleep?” 

A faint smile graces Booth’s lips. 

“Anywhere we could. We’d sleep inside our operation vehicles, sometimes on or under them. Depending on where we were, sometimes we’d dig a trench and bunk there. And sometimes, if you wanted some space away from the others, you would go look for an isolated spot in some shrubbery or other foliage.” 

“What if you overslept? Wouldn’t you be left behind?” 

“Yeah, well… it happened to me once.” 

Zack turns on his side and peers over the edge with an alarmed look on his face. “What?” 

Booth snorts, entertained by his outrage. “I mean yeah, but they found me not long after. I woke up to see the OV gone and none of my teammates there.” 

“Weren’t you terrified?” 

Booth’s eyes flit to the ceiling above them. “Of course I was. We were close to enemy territory and we had been very close to being spotted a few times but we toughed up, we pulled through. We were trained for those kinds of situations.” 

“I’m assuming you found each other again.” 

“Maybe half an hour later they realized I wasn’t in the vehicle and they hauled ass to turn around and find me.” 

Zack feels the need to lighten up the mood a bit. He’s sure that what Booth just told him is something extremely personal that’s probably left him feeling vulnerable, so telling him a story from his own past might be helpful. From what Angela’s told him about interacting with other people, replicating conversation or body language is beneficial to forming a connection with someone. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

“One time when I was twelve, my brother thought it would be funny to prank me by taking me out of our shared tent and leaving me out on an open field in the middle of January.” 

Booth does this sound like he doesn’t know if he should laugh but does anyway. “Older brother?” 

“Third oldest, just by three years.” 

“Sounds about right. Older brothers can be a pain in the ass like that.” The smile on Booth’s face turns mischievous. “So what happened?” 

“Luckily we were only camping in the woods behind our house, but he pulled out the air mattress I was on and packed everything up just before breakfast was called,” he explains and stops for a second to brace himself. He’s not sure why he feels embarrassed telling him now and curls into the pillow. “I woke up buried in a pile of blankets and snow with a deer licking my face.” 

Booth breaks out into a fit of laughter and Zack feels his face burn hot. He presses his face against the pillow in a poor attempt to hide it. Rarely does he see Booth this talkative and unabashedly open so hearing his boisterous laughter tugs at something in his chest. 

“I just thought of the perfect nickname for you and it’s better than Mini Bones,” he says between gasps of air. “It’s perfect.” 

Zack’s aware of that nickname, Booth’s called him as such before and he found no offense to it. If anything, it was an honor, he is her assistant after all. (Even if the name was at the expense of Dr. Brennan.) Still, he’s intrigued as to what Booth could’ve come up with so quickly. 

“You did?” 

Booth tilts his head away, stifling (poorly, may he add) more laughter. It’s an odd gesture to do, seeing as he’s already laughed a couple of times inside the enclosed space, but Zack says nothing and studies his features. The stretch of his neck, the slight crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, the lightly scarred tissue stretched over his knuckles and forearm as he hides his laughs behind his hand, the scrunching of his nose. He takes it all in. 

He knows this won’t last. The effects of the shot will wear off by morning and everything will go back to normal. Booth will go back to ignoring him and Zack will go back to stealing little glances when they share the den during cases. 

“You ready for it?” Booth regains enough breath and turns to look at him with teary eyes. “Bambi!” 

Zack groans and rolls onto his back. He takes it back, he really hopes it goes back to normal after tonight so Booth wouldn’t have to call him that. 

“Oh, c’mon it’s great!” 

“I should’ve taken you back to Dr. Goodman. Let him deal with you.” 

“Don’t be mean, Bambi.” 

“Do not call me Bambi, it’s demeaning. I’m a Ph.D. student and deserve the utmost respect.” 

“But you look just like him: lanky, fluffy hair, big brown eyes, long eyelashes… all the reason to call you Bambi,” he teases with a stupidly charming grin. “Y’know, you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” 

Zack freezes, astounded by the comment, and unsure how to respond to something like that. Booth just said he’s cute — scratch that — he said he’s cute when he’s annoyed. He’s merely saying this to get a rise out of him. Zack opens his mouth to tell him just that but finds that Booth has already closed his eyes and is humming to himself, the notes later replaced with soft breathing within a matter of seconds. 

“Booth?” Zack asks and receives a soft grunt. He can’t help but smile softly. You only have tonight, he reminds himself. And that’s fine. “Goodnight.” 

“Night, Bambi.” 

First Fic: Thank You for the Topic of My Next Therapy Session

Crossposted on ao3 Leave a comment if ya like it or have ideas!

Inspiration: BioDad!BruceWayne

Chapter 1 of 4

Marinette has not been having the best few weeks lately. Akuma Attacks are becoming more frequent and violent, Luka has just been turned into an Akuma (again), and she is having to deal with a life-changing revelation (also again!?) that she should have been ignorant of for the next few years! But no. Her Ladybug luck just had to be with her as she opened her mother’s important documents drawer while in search of something significantly less important than what she did find! Her Maman only asked her to find her pearls, but what Marinette found were lies and significant emotional damage.  

That happened weeks ago. She refuses to acknowledge it, so Sabine has no idea that Marinette knows, and honestly? Marinette would like to keep it that way. For as long as possible. Which might not be very long at all with the way this day is shaping up.  

Luka Couffaine, an amazing boy who Marinette genuinely cares about and trusts as a friend and permanent member of Team Miraculous, has been akumatized into Truth (AGAIN! Can Hawkmoth be original? For once?) because she refuses to admit to being stressed and yes she was fine, Luka. There is no need to be worried. Now, he is gunning to expose her secrets. Starting with her classmates who are with them on the Liberty.  

“What is Marinette’s biggest secret?” Truth demands, enforced by the magic eye-thing strapped to his back. Hawkmoth’s really pushing it with these Akuma designs lately. Like, the black with the blue assented suit is nice and the glowing three eyes are a cool touch. What Marinette draws the line at is the frEAKING HUGE HUMAN EYE THAT IS HANGING JUST BEHIND HIS HEAD. Safe to say, she is not impressed.  

“Marinette has a crush on Adrien!” Each student yelled when hit by a beam of white-colored light. Right, the Akuma is trying to find her secrets and should be taken down without getting hit. She can do that. Also, this is exactly why she will not be sharing Ladybug's identity with you, Alya. Just because you are part of the Underground does not mean you are privy to all of the secrets. 

“Everybody knows that! That’s not a secret!” Wow. Like... ow. Truth is just being mean at this point. Marinette can keep a secret! She has been Ladybug, Multimouse, and the Guardian for years with nobody finding out her civilian identity unless given permission. ALSO! She can confidently say that she has gotten over her crush on Adrien Agreste. Was it hard? Yes. Will Marinette always have a soft spot for the boy who was also her partner in cri- heroism? Absolutely. Did she realistically have time between being Ladybug, running the Underground as Multimouse, going to school, completing commissions as MDC, and helping her parents in the pâtisserie for a crush? No, she did not. The stress of doing so was actually the main motivator to let the crush go (unknowingly advised by said crush before the reveal).  

Though it is a bit freeing to know that she now blushes, not from the reveal of her once crush on Adrien, but because everyone still believes she hasn't worked past it. Which... wow, that really says something. Something that Marinette will put on her "deal with later" list. 

Oh no, Truth is looking at her. He must have heard her sigh. Fuck 

“Ladybug, tell me your biggest secret!” he demands. If she was just a bit faster in hitting the deck, she wouldn’t have been hit on her right foot. was touched by the compelling laser. Double Fuck.  

The distinct purple moth mask appears over the face of Truth. Hawkmoth was watching, the psychotic bastard. Marinette has run out of fucks to give. Three is too many.  

“M’lady!” yells her partner, Chat Noir. He must have seen her get hit because he began to run at her, unbuckling his belt. Thank all that is good, for she had the same thought as Chat to use the belt as a gage. The problem with that idea is that it is assuming that he can get it to her before she spills any secrets. You know what they say, assume makes an ass out of u-and me.  

Marinette could tell from the sudden tension on the boat that everyone on that boat, Hawkmoth, and the thousands of people watching on the live stream Alya's blog was hosting were waiting for the admission of her civilian identity. It was what made Chat Noir run faster. What made the students (and Hawkmoth) hold their breath. It was not, however, what was causing Marinette to go through three panic attacks at the same time. No, that went to the knowledge that written on her birth certificate, in the space that was for the name of the birth father, was Bruce FREAKING Wayne. Also, the adoption papers claim her as Tom Dupain’s daughter.  

Her birth father wasn't the man who raised her! The man that she has grown up loving and hugging and bonding over video games with wasn’t her blood. The man who was her blood didn’t want her. And she knows this because she found no divorce or marriage certificates between her mother and Bruce Wayne: meaning he got her mother pregnant in a one-night stand or broke up with her as soon as he found out she was pregnant!  

Then he went and adopted Richard Greyson only a few months after she was born, making her self-confidence dive off the Eiffel Tower! The emotional weight just got heavier as she researched, and Instagram/Twitter stocked her would-be-siblings in the weeks since she found out. They looked so happy and comfortable! Happiness she could have been a part of if she had reached some type of criteria her father had that the others did. Marinette is sure that she would get along super well with them, yet she couldn't be claimed as their sister when Bruce had so easily thrown her away. 

Under no circumstances can she say all that as Ladybug, though. It could lead anyone curious enough to look to find out her identity. Good thing she knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. A startling realization at the time, but ultimately made sense. Didn’t make the feeling of inadequacy any better. Against her will, she opens her mouth and just barely finds the mental strength to switch the names Bruce Wayne and Batman before speaking.  

“My father isn’t my father! My bio dad is Batman, and he abandoned me, and my mother doesn’t know that I know now... FUCK.”  

Silence. Pure silence. Able-to-hear-a-pin-drop silence.  

“...what?” The silence is broken. Chat stands stunned staring incredulously at Ladybug like everyone else on the boat, but with the added layer of actually knowing her civilian identity. If Marinette could see Hawkmoth right then, she would have seen the same state of shock as her classmates. The would-have-been-helpful belt lays limp in Chat’s hand as they all try to reboot their brains. Truth rebooted faster than the others.  

“Why did he abandon you?” Ladybug, mentally screaming, couldn't move before the laser hit.  

“The hell if I know, he left as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant!” An assumption on her part, but pitying and sympathetic looks come from her classmates anyway. Chat is still stunned. The chat on the live stream Marinette had forgotten about stops for a second before rapidly whizzing by with many expletives and shocked face emojis. This will hopefully be a moment to laugh at in a few days... oh Kwami, please. 

“Do you resent him for it?” Ladybug tried to dodge, but her section of the boat was small and open. She got hit.  

“Yeah, a little. He abandons me and my mom and then a few months after I was born, the first Robin comes into the picture. So, it kind of hurts.” At this point, the students are too invested to move, and it is safe to assume that Chat will not be of any help during this fight as he is too far gone.  

“Are you jealous of the first robin?” Ladybug has no choice but to charge head-on and take the laser.  

“I don’t think so. I’m more hurt by the fact that he continued to adopt more kids, but never came back for me. And STOP ASKING INVASIVE QUESTIONS!” He engages her in hand-to-hand combat that has her performing awe-inspiring acrobatics to get around the eye. She lands a solid punch to his liver that has him doubling over just as the next question is asked.  

“Would you want a relationship with your siblings?”  

“I have always wanted siblings, but I don’t know if I can even call them that since Batman didn’t choose me but chooSE THE OTHERS!” Her last words were yelled in exertion as she judo-flips Truth over her shoulder with impressive agility and core strength. She is quick to snatch the akumatized necklace and break it. Purifying the Akuma and Amok, Marinette looks to the sky and heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Holy FUCK Batman. Thank you for giving me the next topic of my therapy sessions.”  

The French Government issued a blackout of all things Akuma-related at the beginning of this whole fiasco to keep from attracting the Justice League and their million-dollar guarantee solutions. It did not, however, withstand France's 64.6 million citizens working towards the same goal.  

They loved Ladybug. Like they loved her. She is the hero that created the team they can always depend on to save the day anywhere in France! Much more than the Justice League who had ignored her repeated calls that were sent outside of France and the blackout (It was a busy week for reporters when their beloved heroin had gone public with the ignored request for help. Fuck you Green Lantern).  

They loved her so much that to not only find out that Ladybug is the daughter of the American vigilante, detective extraordinaire, Batman, but that he also abandoned her, their displeasure will not go unheard. Every one of the thousands of people tuned into the Ladyblog’s live stream had saved it, cut it to manageable bits, and then sent it to everyone they knew on every internet platform they were on. 26 hours later, the rest of the world was calling for an explanation for the viral video that kept changing titles to not get deleted.  

The French government had no choice but to lift the blackout.   

As a result, the Ladyblog skyrocketed in viewership and recognition for its consistency in recording the Akuma fights (much to Alya’s delight and her friend's bemusement). Many viewers would just watch the saved live stream. More would watch the rest of the videos. News articles are read, websites visited, and people watched the Duo of Paris and, later, their Miracle Team take down villain after villain, day after day, battle after gruesome battle. With the Parisian public singing their praises, it wasn’t long before the rest of the world adored the Parisian Heros just as much as the locals - if not more so.  

All that the world was waiting for at this point was the inevitable reunion of the "Batfamily" and the Justice League's response to the Heroes of Paris. 

Hey, so it's me again, I absolutely loved the Teddy fic you just wrote, it was sooo good! Great job! Anyway, you totally do not have to, I just get a lot of prompt ideas and I don't see a lot of writers writing for Teddy so I just wanted to request another, it's pretty similar, but Teddy is a kid and he wakes up sick in the middle of the night and his dad is the one to take care of him. It's a little different but I feel like we don't see much regarding his relationship with his dad and I feel like it would be a really sweet one. No pressure, if you're not up to it you don't have to but I just wanted to send the prompt. :)

Family First

"You'll live forever, right? You won't ever leave...?"

[Platonic Son Teddy X Father Doug Pierce]

Word Count: 0.8K

Warnings: Fluffy, Angsty (cuz we know what happens in the film), Mentions of vomit, Vomiting (somewhat detailed), Crying, Mentions of death, and sorta Foreshadowing into the details of the movie.

I do not write like this at all, but I am willing to try it! I normally do only Xreaders, but I step out of my comfort zone every once in a while. So for you I'll try! We don't know much about his father so it will most likely be OCCish. BUT I tried so yeah please don't EVER stop sending requests. It's like the only reason I have been writing recently so thank you! But anyway, enjoy my efforts.

It had only been a few days since Teddy's first break of his kindergarten year. That was his first time being a "big boy," and he was loving it! He got to play all day, they learned some stuff, but they got to go outside and play and play inside too. He loved the trucks, and he told all his friends his dad had one of the firetrucks, and he got to go in one. A small bluff, but his dad said when he was older, he could go in one, he just had to wait a bit. Sadly, the first day of Christmas break he woke up in the middle of the night, with a strange feeling in his tummy. He knew that feeling. He had the feeling before. Many times, before, anytime he had something his father told him not to eat.

He tried to make it to the bathroom, like his mother told him. Really, he did, but he couldn’t stop it. He managed to crawl out of bed and open the door on his tip toes. He walked down the hall towards his mommy and daddy’s room and the bathroom. He couldn’t hold it. The back of his throat burned as he gagged. The late-night chocolate milk he had before bed spilled out of his mouth. The brown liquid is chunky and disgusting. A person could only wish it had the same delightful taste coming up. The brown liquid chunks hit the carpeted hallway with a soft plop. After a quiet moment, he finished up. Tears welled in the small boys' eyes. Climbing over the puddle of brown liquid chunks, he tiptoes over to his father’s room. His mother was out at work. She had kissed him goodbye, now it was only his father laying in the huge bed.

He stood in the doorway for a bit, just standing there. His arms to his side, the small light in the bathroom shone into the room. His father groaned. Sitting up slightly, to see his son, Teddy, just standing in the doorway. He looked guilty. His eyes had tears, and the poor boy was barely holding back. What had happened? So, Doug sat up, “What’s wrong, buddy?” He asks worriedly. He didn’t know what happened but if he was so upset, it had to have been something bad. Teddy started crying before crawling onto the bed, staying at the end. “I- i threw up,” he slurred a bit; his speech and vocabulary were very good at his age. But he still couldn’t say some words correctly. He had been in speech for a while, though.

“Buddy, come here," his father said, pulling him onto his lap and comforting the poor boy. "It’s not your fault, ok? I’ll go clean it up. You just stay here.” Teddy didn't want to sit there. He felt bad. The boy was waking his father up before the clock on the timer said 6, something his parents had told him ever since he got his big boy bed. He didn't follow the rule. He always followed the rules, thats how everyone has a fun time. At least thats what Mrs. Baker, his kindergarder teacher, says. Still babbiling through tears his father set him on the bed. As he stood up and walked out of the bedroom to the bright light of the hallway.

After what felt like forever, Doug came back. His large frame was in the doorway of his room as he walked in slowly, believing that Teddy was asleep. He was, in fact, not. His tiny frame was on his father's warm spot on the bed. "Daddy..." Teddy spoke up softly, like he was scared he would get scolded. Doug would never. Never ever in millions of years would such. Well, maybe if he stole a car or something, he would never. He sat on the other side of the bed, sliding over the covers over his body as he tucked in the small child beside him. "Yes, teddy bear?" A long silence followed. One that was too long. Uncomfortably long. "You'll live forever, right? You won't ever leave me?" His heart broke for his baby boy. What happened to make him believe that? Yes, firefighting was dangerous, but he would always make sure to get out. For Teddy. For his family.

"Teddy bear, I'll always be here for you. Always. You have nothing to worry about. Let's just sleep. I'll make your favorite pancakes in the morning." That made the little boy smile. After some thought, that was faked. That kid would do anything for those famous pancakes. His mom never cared to learn to make them. Doug was always there. "With chocolate milk." He laughed. "Yes, with chocolate milk." There was only a while notice before that small Teddy fell asleep. The darkness of the room blended with his falling eyelids. Dreams filled with those sweet pancakes.

Sorry, it took so long, I just have like no motivation. Not to mention the erm English essay that I had due that I was supposed to be working on last time I posted. This was rushed, and I hate it, but whatever. It's so sad to think his dad died after he told little Teddy those words. That's why I made him say them.

That Sketchbook of Yours

Teddy Pierce X reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of mention of his fathers passing, Cussing and violent language, Teddy acts like a bully for a paragraph, making out, and parent interrupting making out. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1.2K not including title

I saw some in need for Christmas chronicles X readers and being someone who thinks teddy was attractive here we are. I'm sorry if some parts are wrong, I barely even had my first kiss (I'm a loser for my age). Also if you have anything else you want don't be shy to ask! Now enjoy!

FYI, it's really late for me and I should be studying for finals but I'm not so if you see a mistake, please let me know and honestly, I kind of hate this but whatever.

After Teddy's father died, he didn't really have anyone to turn to before he met you. You were a nerd as people saw it, you read and wrote, hell you could draw really well too. He thought you were quite pretty too. He only saw you in one class and that was geometry, one he recently failed, but boy was he glad he failed.

You were a shy thing too, not talking much; sitting in a corner seat; head down and always drawing something. He knew of your artist skill from having to sit away from his "gangster" friends and next to you. He always did sneak glances at you how could he not? You were so easy to fall for. Nodding or shaking your head when people talked to you, when you did talk your voice was adorable.

Randomly one day before Christmas break he took your sketchbook, he stood a few inches taller than you. Flipping through the pages mostly filled with cats or sometimes a friend or too. You panic and desperately try to grab the notebook. He stood his ground, looking at each page for a second.

He came across a page, filled with drawings of himself. He laughed before leaning down to your height. "Does this mean you have a little crush on me?" You blush a bright red, he laughs again. "I'm taking that as a yes, am I right? Sweetheart." You stumble on your words, trying to make up a lame excuse to why you had those drawings which consisted of "Your easy to draw," "You sit next to me and are an easy reference." There were a few more but he didn't really bother to listen. The blush that was darkening on your cheeks was more than an answer.

But before he or you could say anything else, you grabbed your notebook and ran off; embarrassed. Running home straight away not stopping till you were safe in your room, cooped up in your feelings for him. Christmas break the rest was a blur for you until a day or two after Christmas...

~Flashback for Teddy on Christmas Eve With Santa~

"If you know what everyone wants, tell me what I want." Kate looked up at him "Teddy! Stop it, you don't have to do that Santa." Santa looked at Teddy a bit annoyed and a bit; prideful? "Her." He fell silent for a long while, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Kate was just confused "Who?" Nobody answered her though.

She very quickly forgot about that when she was asked to find the reindeer. The boys sat in the car for a minute in silence, still running from the police. "She asked for you for Christmas, you know." Teddy smiled a bit, he knew exactly what to do when he saw her again. He even thought about finding you himself.

~End of Flashback~

A day or two after Christmas you were sitting in your bedroom before a faint knock at the door, thinking it was your mother, you politely say that they could come in. You turn to ask 'your mother' what she needs and your face to face with Teddy Pierce. Honestly he doesn't know whether to laugh or walk out with the look of surprise on your face. He spoke before you had a chance to, "Listen I know I was kind of an asshole last we saw each other and I just want to tell you that well. Damn it this is harder than I thought. I like you. I did all that teasing because I liked you."

You stood there, not really being able to muster up any form of words. "Say something please. Yell at me, tell me i'm a dick and kick me out, do anything!" You worked up as much courage you had in many years, got on your tip toes, leaned in and kissed him. Now it was his turn to be surprised. Your kiss was short and sweet your lips tasted like candy-canes and sugar cookies, his tasting like milk and maple syrup. Pulling back from kiss and him you look away a bit sheepishly and quietly speak, "Were the drawings of you not enough, do I really have to say I like you too?"

He was staring at you, "No they weren't. Say it again. That you like me." He was a bit in disbelief I mean hell Santa is always right about that kind of stuff but, he needed to hear it from you. "I like you too, Teddy Pierce." You smile shyly looking back at him, when you feel a tug. Pulling you closer he speaks quietly a bit embarrassed, "Can I?" You don't know for certain what he is asking but you whisper out a yes.

Almost evidently he kissed you, rougher than you kissed him but still soft. He turns you both around having your back to the door, pressing you against it; his hands on your waist teasingly moving up and down, testing the waters to see if he should go down any farther. You, your hands moving to his hair, tugging a bit; trying to get some type of oxygen. He bites your lip not hard just enough to shock you a bit into opening your mouth, his tongue sliding in slowly. Not wanting to rush or scare you.

Seeing you were fine with it he started to get a bit more greedy. Taking a breath he leaned into you more, his body competently covering yours; his leg moves in between your legs, for "More space" as he phrased it in his head. Lightly moaning, you hungrily pull more on his hair; as his tongue takes the more dominant control. He perks up at your little moan.

He made you do that. Not that loser kid that tries to walk you home everyday, not the kid in geometry who tries to get you to look at him, not the kid always asking for homework answers to start a conversation, not even that kid who would compliment your drawings all the time. HIM. Just when it's about to go farther, his hands moving to your ass, you hear a knock. More like he heard the knock. He leaned back, you leaned to him. He gently grabs you and opens the door face to face with your mother.

"You two alright I didn't really hear any talking or anything, do you guys want some cookies?" Your mom spoke, you honestly have never been more mad at your mother for ruining the moment. Teddy smiled at her "No, maybe next time my mother would get worried." Your mother being the kind lady she is smiled back and told him she would let you two say goodbye before he left.

"We are dating now right," you asked questioningly. He laughed, "I wouldn't kiss you and do all that for you not to be my girlfriend." You smile at him, and he opens your bedroom door to leave. Pulling him back you give him a kiss, a soft and quick one before walking him outside. Walking back to your room you realize something.

Teddy Pierce a guy who stole cars, hung around gangsters, and has failed a class was not your boyfriend he was just a random guy. Your boyfriend was kind, loved photographing and had a passion for it. He loved the snow and would never admit enjoying baking and how much he really loved his sister. To think it all happened because he took that sketchbook of yours and maybe a bit of help from old saint nick.

I hate the ending, but I didn't want this one-shot to be over 1.5K words. Well, I hope you like this, please if you want to re-post this somewhere you give me credits and permission. If you want any more of Teddy Pierce don't be shy, I'm always open to suggestions and as well as help in making my writing more enjoyable. Please let me know your opinions!

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

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You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

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Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

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Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

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During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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Gojo x reader; A nightmare that couldn’t hope to exist again

So I uh saw the newest leaks on jjk, and I wanted to be heavily comforted as I don’t know how to feel about it. Don’t worry this doesn’t contain the leaks, this is a what if scenario (info down below)

Here’s just some comfort as a what if, what if maybe after everything they somehow revive Gojo? I mean this Gojo right? He’s not a regular sorcerer…right? This is honestly to comfort me, don’t come at me if he’s truly truly gone.

Tw: Nightmares, fluff, Au of post canon where everything is saved and all, because I don’t know how the ending will go yet, ptsd, SPOILERS LIKE HUUUGE-

Poke poke

…

poke poke poke

…

poke poke poke po-

“ALRIGHT, I’m up I’m yawn, up, wha- OW!” His waist was still sensitive as heck, no wonder, he was slash- no, SPLIT, literally. Gojo groans as he blears out from his sleepiness due to the insistent poking, the poking who he assumes is coming from you, “listen I know you want me up but could you turn on the lamp? It would be easier to se- yelp agh…shoulda warned me, gosh my eyes… rub rub I hope it’s not to early, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep” he continues to ramble out of sleep for a bit and turns to you, or more surprisingly, your back.

Now that he thinks about it you haven’t done or said anything, minus the poking of course. “Hello…? Uh your awakened husband is here, seriously you can’t just poke me awake as I’m recovering from, well I dunno…MY BODY SPLITTING IN HALF and just remain in the edge all quiet and everything.” He tried to sound playful but you didn’t move, it was almost like you didn’t hear him, and suddenly he felt chills.

What if maybe…he was still out there, rotting in half? What if he left you behind..? What if what if what if-

He didn’t realise he reached out for you unconsciously until he felt the warmth of your skin and you turned your head slowly, not enough for him to see your face but well…enough for him to know you acknowledged his presence, he runs his fingers up and down your back “hey, uh, you okay? You woke me up and yet you seem so…distant and odd, love you know I’m here right?” He hesitated before holding your shoulder, where he felt the trembling and realised why you weren’t facing him, why you were so quiet. You turned around facing him which confirmed it, you were crying. With this knowledge he wasted no time in sitting up at the headboard despite his waist screaming otherwise and trying to situate you in his lap, which came along with your protests;

“Satorou! No I can’t…it’s still healing!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m alive and it’s not like it’s gonna fall off.”

“It’s still healing, what if it gets infected due to a blood clot or something! Satorou I can’t, even if you claim it’s okay I won’t be okay…so please..”

The fear and helplessness is your voice is what got him to stop, so, rather than you sitting on his lap he had you both lie down and cuddle up to each other, making sure you were comfy while also proving he was comfortable aswell. He kept kissing your face, wherever his lips could touch as a gesture of comfort, he wanted you to feel, to know he was here, and he also wanted to know that he was here. He kept you against him while running his fingers up and down like earlier in a comforting manner, hoping to soothe you.

“…so, my scrumptious little dollop of happiness, love a-“ “Satorou don't you dare,” you interrupted with a giggle, both cringing and giggling at the super long phrase he tried to give you “haha! Just wanted to make you laugh, or atleast a it happier darling. Seeing that you giggled I had done an amazing job, right sweetheart?” He said as he kissed your cheeks, to which you giggled.

“Seeing that my first job is done, we are moving to the second job!” He said as his voice toned down slightly, “and that is finding out why you were crying when I woke up, my lovely spouse here shouldn’t be crying as I was sleeping, oh do tell me if it was the snoring, wait that explains as to why you were poking me aggressively!” He said dramatically to which you chuckled “no no Satorou, I’m sorry I woke you up, I just…I had a horrible nightmare about…about you and I thought you were…let’s just say I needed you, I needed you talking to me, touching me, I mean the warmth is enough but you sleeping, considering how your body has been…I just needed to see you alive” You mumbled the last part out quieter but he caught it. He didn’t know that his sleeping was THAT bad, he was told by Shoko that he slept like a dead man, but to make his one and only think that too? It broke his heart seeing you crying because of him, because he looked dead, and while you trailed off he had a good idea as to what you might have dreamed about, sure you weren’t out there but you knew the contents of his…death. Hmm…

”Is that so darling? Hm…what to do, this is rather a pickle isn’t it? Well as much as I would love to say that everything will be okay…I can’t confirm it considering the situation is still unknown,” he murmured while stroking your hair, you tensed against him as you knew this, but didn’t want to hear it. “However, Yuji and Shoko both are on my case, they refuse to leave me alone, and are basically forcing me into temporary leave, heck maybe considering my condition they will force me to retire all together,” he said with a joking tone which made you smirk. “I don’t know what will happen, for despite my amazing capabilities I cannot tell the future, if I could I wouldn’t have been split in half now would I? Hey…no I meant is as a joke, no I’m sorry I didn’t mean to dampen the mood..” he said upon realising you were tensing, fretting over his words,”damn it…I really suck with comforting don-“ “yes,”you deadpanned.

“…haha, did you really need to call me out?” He said awkwardly, when he got no reply he just continued running his hand up and down your back, the atmosphere eventually got comforting. The night was quiet, minus the ticking of the clock, and the wind outside, it was cozy and warm, safety was guaranteed, yet your trembling had yet to cease, he was about to speak up again when you interrupted him,

“I always hated your cockiness you know?” He looked down at you, “I hated how you always assumed you would win due to your abilities, it was because of that, that you became reckless and lazy, and even when fighting against a formidable enemy you still remained confident no? How do you think I felt in regards to that?” Gojo wasn’t stupid or deaf, you would always complain about his recklessness and how he could die, to which he would always brush off, one day it even lead in a fully fledged argument between you both, which lasted for days on end until you both broke the silence, realising that it wasn’t healthy for either of you to continue with this silence since you both had issues taking care of yourselves. That’s not to say your worries ceased, nor his cockiness, but he promised to be more careful, and well…he was cut in half. “I knew you know? I knew that the jobs were dnagerous and I knew you weren’t guaranteed a happy ending or anything, especially with your cockiness and all,” happy ending? Damn you had unique phrases didn’t you.

“I hate you so much, I hate you for making me worry! I hate you for dying! I hate you for making me grieve and mourn!” You kept crying over and over and letting your resentment be known until “I hate myself for being weak, for being unable to protect you…” Gojo froze at that, while he was aware of your worries, he wasn’t aware of how it affected the image you projected onto yourself, the fact that you couldn’t help him on the field, the fact that he surpassed you miles ahead, and the fact that he basically died. He thought about it for a moment before finally speaking up:

“I won’t lie to you, I haven’t necessarily been thinking about your needs on the field, or in general despite the fact that I love you. Getting stronger, teaching my students and defeating curses were mainly on my mind. For that, I am really sorry…but that doesn’t mean I loved you any less. If anything I’m at fault for not taking you into consideration, because the last thing I want to do is break my dearest spouses heart. Now that everything has changed, if there are curses they are most likely not strong, something I could take out within minutes, seconds even…hey dont give me that look, I’m not being cocky.” He trembled under your glare..

“Okay, maybe I’m being a little cocky, but that isn’t my point. The point is, the curses are weakened drastically and if that’s not the case then they are gone for good. Regardless of the outcome we don’t have to worry about danger, for we both are capable enough to defend ourselves, you with your self defence and me with my abilities. Don’t you see what this means?” He wiped the stains off your cheeks. “Just because everything is over doesn’t mean the pain and suffering will go away immediately, heck maybe never, I know Yuji will be unstable for a while, but that isn’t all there is. I’m not young, but I’m not old either, same with you. We still have a life to lead you know?” He pulled you against his chest while smiling, a soft smile reserved for his closest ones, like you. “So let’s live with happiness moving forward. Whenever you suffer I’ll be there to support you, just as I expect you to do the same. Let us live our lives to the fullest, like a normal married couple, it is my job as your husband to make you the happiest person alive no?” He murmured softly. You listened intently while resting against his chest, and then you spoke up:

“Can you at least promise me that you will remain safe moving forward? That you will take care of yourself?” You asked, looking at him expectantly, to which he hesitated a bit, to which you spoke up once again, “you said it yourself, there are no more major threats with the curses, so you shouldn’t be out there fighting and returning home all banged up, so it’s impossible for you to be able to break said promise…unless you plan to pull something?” You eyed him suspiciously to which he spoke up quickly,” NO! I uh…I mean no, I wouldn’t dare, and your right about the curses…so yes, I promise that I won’t ever put myself in danger recklessly ever again, and that I will make sure I return to you, in one piece, not two- OW!” He winced at your smack, however you were satisfied, and with that you snuggled up to him. A comfortable silence ensued again, until you asked one last question:

“Satorou…you said we would have a future of happiness earlier…what future do you envision when thinking of that? I mean I can’t expect life to be simple for you after everything that’s occurred…” He was silent for a long time, until he replied, “honestly I don’t know, I just tend to dream about your happy face, and me being by your side, touching you, kissing you, loving you, and living a happy life with each other, heck maybe even with a child,” he smiled at the thought.

“…then let’s make it come true.” You finalised, to which he looked down raising an eyebrow. “Let’s make your dream come true, for that is now my dream as-well! A dream like that…is a thousand times better than the nightmares.” You said with sparkling eyes, the first genuine emotion of happiness you showed that night.

He smiled, but didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, for all his words could be felt with his eyes, hands and body. He wanted nothing more then to secure that future, and so he squeezed you a bit tighter, to which you reciprocated, and just like that, both you and him dreamed.

He dreamed of you, your smiling face, your laughter, your iconic glaring face, you scolding him, and just living a happy life.

You dreamed of him, his smiling, his laughter, his face when he is trying to hide from your scolding. A happy life with a happy man, and even a glimpse of a child, a child you desired to have with him.

You both didn’t know if the world would even be safe, and knew that a “happily ever after” was near impossible for sorcerers or those within the circle, especially with someone like Gojo who had been different from the other sorcerers. However the world had changed for the better, you both knew that, so maybe, just maybe, his ending that intertwined with yours, and continues intertwining, could change too. However all you could do was dream in the meantime.

Nightmares became less common after that night.

*Credits to the amazing manga of JJK, also GOJO PLEASE COMEBACK ALIVE* *I hope you enjoyed! Mind you I’m not into JJK as a whole so I don’t understand the lore, please correct me if I do get things wrong!Also IM ALMOST DONE WITH SCHOOL AND FINALS AAAAA*

Gallagher x Reader; The Devil in Disguise

Pairings; Reader x Gallagher

Warnings; HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE 2.1 QUEST, also this isn’t canon, in other words the way they implied stuff at the end may be there to throw us off, this is a “what if”, if what was implied is true. Death mention, secrets, suspicions, already established relationship between the two

Creek

You glanced up to see a slightly tired Gallagher enter the room, noticing he looked slightly disheveled, on top of that he was a bit late.

“Gallagher? Are you okay, why are you so messy, didn’t you say you were having a meeting in regards to your job?” You headed over to him to help remove his vest and accessories, suddenly he grabbed your hand a bit frantically but nonetheless gave you a smile,

“I’m fine hon, just a bit of trouble on the way here, some hooligans on the streets were a bit to drunk,” he chuckled, and once again smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

You knew something was up for a few days now, despite the fact that he kept his calm demeanour and relaxed behaviour, you knew something was up, and well it made sense. He explained to you that “Death” was among the dreamers and that a stowaway and the famous singer Robin, had been killed, thus he asked if you could simply stay inside. You knew he was working off the clock to figure out who could be behind it, but even so there was something…off…

You have known him for years now. How he approached you on the streets complementing you and serving you a drink, he wasn’t a bartender then, but he was exceptionally good. You eventually figured out his ties to the bloodhound family, which you didn’t mind but you found it odd how many of his coworkers never recognised him, to which he told you he simply did most of the work in the shadows.

Even with your suspicions you chalked it up to him being exhausted and him trying to prevent “Death” from taking any more people, so you simply kissed his cheek and told him you would prepare dinner, as well as the fact that he should go shower, to which he said he would as he headed for the bathroom.

Once he was in he closed the door and sighed. “Almost got caught,” he thought as he looked down at the inside of his vest and gloves, covered in the goo. He used them to cover up the remains of Sunday but he was also careful you wouldn’t find any of it on him and question him. He sighed again upon thinking of the events that had occurred before.

So what if he killed two prominent members of the family? The family, the supposed family that was open to peace and harmony, the family that had took away so much from many, the family that outed Mikhail as a traitor…Mikhail.

He would be lying to say he was doing all of this solely for Mikhail, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t one of his motives. Guilt eventually came at him for betraying his old companion, and then anger seeped in when figuring out that the family wasn’t all so innocent either. Naturally before he could strike he needed a good alias, and that’s where you came in.

He knew once a killer was a front, people would be less likely to suspect someone who not only was high in terms of security but also someone who had a lover, after all why risk their lover’s security when he planned to kill right? He knew you were the right one when meeting you, he complimented your looks to start small talk, not that he didn’t think you weren’t pretty, you were gorgeous. Then he kept meeting up with you and eventually you agreed to be his lover. At first everything was going according to plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was using you from the beginning and yet, he grew fond of you, he truly cared about you and knew what he was doing could put you at risk, yet he was to far in deep to turn around and prioritised his plan above all. He wanted to break things off to protect you but at the same time, he couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why.

He knew he wasn’t a good person, and knew you would be better off if you both were not together, but still. He didn’t know if it was love or simply respect, or anything in between but he truly did want to stay with you.

But it’s fine, all he has to do is to carry out the remaining tasks and finish his plan while also protecting you, and continue being a “minion”, of the enigmata without you knowing. All he has to do was continue to keep up his facade without any suspicion, all he ha-

“Gallagher, honey?” Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, wow he was actually getting into this anti hero role wasn’t he? “Are you okay? Do you need me to come in? You’ve been in there for a while and I didn’t hear any shower, just some mumbling…”

“Don’t worry! I was just zoning out, I’ll be out in a moment love, just give me some time,” he replied almost immediately. After hearing your footsteps leave he cleaned what he could of his clothing and took a nice shower before changing and coming outside to you setting the food on the table. “It’s fine, it will be over soon,” he thought as he headed to the table. Even if it ends with deception, he just needs to be secretive just a tad bit longer and everything will be okay…

“A complete Gallagher,” he recalled Sundays words, yes, he would just have to continue on and be nothing but a Gallagher to his “beloved,” if not for your sake, then for his own.

Once again nothing is canon, just my personal interpretation of him and his lover at the end of the quests, I hope you enjoyed this fic!

Little post.

smol story of wasp and outer space (during war)

One drop, two drops. The liquid seems to fall unending, the leak has been often. Wasp wasn't good at fixing anything other than himself. The battle marks are well-over done on his frame.

Maybe he could learn how to make something better. Perhaps life could change for the better? *he shifts himself in a nicer position on the chair next to his over-crowd desk.* The drops are now tuned out now, Wasp was thinking of changing.

Maybe for the better.

—————————— ⋆｡°౨ৎ°｡⋆ —————————

title : “you weren’t supposed to find out this way..”

warnings : none!!

luke castellan + reader

a/n : yes a sad imagine for my first post 😣

—————————— ⋆｡° ꨄ°｡⋆ ——————————

you weren’t supposed to find out this way, luke had never planned for you to find out this way, to see him completely flip out on percy, to see him such a wreck. you were supposed to find out with him talking to you about it saying something among the lines of “i want you to join me.” but instead you found out is such a horrible heart wrecking way.

you were just following annabeth since clarisse (gf mentioned) had gone to her cabin which a few friends completely uninterested in celebrating percy who she envied, you heard a loud yell of pain with the sound of metal clashing looking at annabeth you two quickened your pace when you saw percy and luke fighting? you were confused until you heard Luke trying to convince percy to leave camp with him ‘why would luke want to leave camp??’ your thoughts consumed of the possibilities for answers but that was when luke raised his sword at percy and you knew you had to speak up and save him despite being lost for words your tounge almost incapable of moving you let out the name of the boy who had left you confused. “luke?”

it was barley audible but loud enough for both percy and luke to turn their heads to annabeth and you luke’s eyes had softened in realization the beings that meant so dearly to him bringing him back from his outburst. “annabeth..”

was the first thing he said before looking to see you the tears were brimmed in your eyes just like his (TWININGGG) his demeanor was changed from before when you found the two boys fighting “we heard everything.”

annabeth spoke her voice rough her tone so different from how she would normally use to the boy who practically raised her and cared for her, her older brother. lukes attention drew to you once again seeing the hurt expression

“sweetheart..” he let out stepping closer to you to which you backed up from him in fear as he reached his hand out to you. a tear escaped from his soft brown eyes realizing that his worst nightmare had come true. his girlfriend and his darling little sister were afraid of him, annabeth looked at you before going to percy helping him.

“you weren’t supposed to find out this way.” his voice breaking he wanted to come closer to you but stopped himself seeing how fearful you were without saying it he could just see it in your eyes, the way your beautiful eyes that he loved staring into had trailed over his face, orbs shaking he hated seeing you like that. he rarely ever did but when you were it hurt to see but this time was different from those other times, instead of you being afraid of the wars you were scared of him.

“i trusted you luke.” you let out and hearing those words it was like a punch in the gut he regretted not telling you sooner like he planned. “was everything you said a lie? is this relationship a lie? do you even love me?” hearing your heart broken voice shattered him to pieces he was disappointed in himself for making you doubt his love for you.

“no, no.. baby of course i love you i only ever lied to you about this i promise. i’m so sorry.” he cried only getting closer to you without realizing it. he had brought up a hand to your cheek running his thumb over the soft skin looking down at you he knew what he soon had to do and it pained him to leave like this he wanted to beg for you to come with him, beg for your forgiveness, beg for you to join him but it was no use seeing the fear and hurt in your eyes he knew he cut you too deep. he turned his attention from you to annabeth who was currently holding percy up his arm around around her waist luke took a deep breath.

“i love you.” he brought a soft kiss to your temple before he was gone, he ran off inside the portal he opened leaving you hurt and upset.

—————————— ⋆｡° ꨄ°｡⋆ ——————————

a/n: i literally hate this but kinda love it, dk how to feel. i didn’t know how to end this so sorry if its bad but hope you enjoyed! and feel free to give feedback back !!

this scene broke me m still in shock, leah, walker and charlie acted SO WELL in this scene like rent was DUE

My intro post! :D

Welcome!~

Welcome to my blog! My name is Aaron, I'm 18, and I write for fun. I love to read, my favorite so far is diffidently lights out by Vanessa Allen. But back to what you're probably here for, I mostly do my hero academia, Attack on Titan, and occasionally TWD videogame. all one-shots of course! so, you can expect all that. all of these will be x fem!reader. Not all will but be NSFW, but most are NFSW so MDNI please!

I will write certain kinks such as:

NSFW Praise Degradation Breeding Choking Hair pulling Light impact play Roleplay Threesome slight dub-con And much more!

However, I will not write:

Feet Scat Vomit Incest Piss play

With this being said, please feel free to let me hear it! give me suggestions of what y'all would like to read! If any of this makes you uncomfortable then please don't click on the stories with these tags! If you don't mind them, then go right ahead and enjoy~

Thank you so much for checking out my blog and enjoy your stay, little dove~

can you pwease do some ted nivision / schlatt / charlie angst about them and reader having a stupid and petty argument that ensues over to recording where you can tell there's somethinf going on but can't tell whether its banter or not-

i just want some good classic argument angst 🤭

Pick who?

sfw !

fem!reader x ted x schlatt

rei writes angst for a while then failing miserably

@.giggleburger • 10 mins

guys y does the new episode seems off 😭??

#chucklesandwich #schlatt #ted #y/n #charlie

↳ 12 ⇆ 10 ♡ 301

@.numberoneschlaggotever • 6 mins

↳ replying to @.giggleburger

TRUE IT'S MORE DRIER N SAD, like no banter? no flirts? no jokes?

↳ 2 ⇆ 0 ♡ 3

@.milkthemilkman • 1 mins

↳ replying to @.giggleburger and @.numberoneschlaggotever

lmao it's either a bit or they actually fought

↳ 0 ⇆ 0 ♡ 1

you sigh out, reading recent tweets from their latest episode, it was two the three of them fought, you, ted and schlatt

the whole ordeal was schlatt and ted had been courting you, they've been trying to outdo eachother by giving you gifts, flirting with you, compliments and affection

during the past few weeks, you and ted had been hanging out, and of course schlatt noticed, he was blazing with jealous

so before a few minutes on your recording for the new episode for chuckle sandwich, he approaches you

" how's the dates? had fun without me? " schlatt states, glaring you as he crosses his arms

" jay? what are you talking about? " you reply, confused and shock at the sudden confrontation

" you've been going on dates right? you guys hang out like im also not into you " he added, " why can't you just decide already? "

" decide on what? " ted approaches the both of them as he rests his arm around on your shoulder, " oh, your boyfriend's here too " schlatt commented, his tone, snarky

" jay you're getting things wrong.. it's not like that " you try to explain, but ted accidentally interrupts you, " what like that? "

" i dont know, maybe she finally actually decides on who she likes? " schlatt retorts, glaring at ted's hand around you, " you can't just for her out to pick on both of us, she can have the time she needs " ted defends you with a sigh

" how fucking much more does she needs? it's been months, months of us going back and forth, aren't you tired ted? "

" schlatt, you do realize this is a huge deal right? you can't just suddenly confront her at topics like this " ted shakes his head, patting your back for comfort as schlatt pushes his hand off of you

" jay.. im sorry but this isn't just fair " you mumble, " fair? no, y/n, fucking make your decision, make me realize if all the things i did for you was worth it or no " schlatt continues

" schlatt, you're pressuring her " ted states, " im pressuring her to finally know the truth, does she likes me or you, that's just what i wanna know. "

" i.. i can't.. i cant decide right now " you mumble as ted rubs your shoulder but schlatt scoffs, " did sucking ted's dick feel that good? " schlatt blurts out

ted gasps, as you froze in your spot, flabbergasted and overwhelmed but then feeling anger as you hit a slap on his face, leaving a red mark

" you know what schlatt? maybe you're right, maybe... maybe the things you did for me weren't worth it " you mumble, teary eyed, " im sorry if i made you waste your time, you can fucking leave "

ted glares at schlatt, as he follows after you, leaving schlatt all by himself as the man comforts you

the whole argument caused the rest of the episode to be dry, cold and just.. not it, you avoided schlatt the whole episode, talking to only ted and the oblivious charlie

you groan out as you rolled on your bed, blaming yourself, maybe if you could've picked at that moment this wouldn't happen-

a knock interrupts your overthinking, you glanced at the clock, 11 pm, maybe your pizza had arrived? as you get off your bed, you slowly open the door revealing a teary eyed schlatt, a bouquet on his hand

" ... hi " he greets as you look away, " .... hi " you respond as he sighs out, " im.. im so fucking sorry " schlatt mutters

" i know.. i know i was impatient and so fucking jealous, i acted out my anger and im so fucking dumb to only realize that id hurt you " he states, " i should've waited, i should've never said those to you during our argument, y/n, i.. i fucking love you, im so.. im so fucking sorry "

your eyes widened, schlatt wasn't always the one to talk about his feelings, he'd rarely mention it, " it's alright.. if you.. you know.. wont let me have a chance anymore, i understand, im a fucking dick "

" but yeah.. i hope you forgive me " he mumbles, handling you the bouquet as you slowly face him, " .. jay.. im also.. uhm.. sorry for making you wait this long.. " you mutter, receiving the bouquet, " i understand why you'd suddenly confront me and.. say those things "

" it's fine.. if you dont want to chase after me anymore, i genuinely understand- " you were cut off by a hug, " no, im not letting that loser take you all by himself "

" this feels fucking cringey to say.. but i love you y/n, i dont care how long you'll love me back... or never love me back but that's just.. that's just what i wanna say, i fucking love you "

Scarlet Sky

[A recollection of the events preceding Spike Spiegel's "death" by Theo V. Morgenstern in the Red Dragon crime syndicate.

Set in pre-canon period where Spike avails himself of some time to spend with a friend away from the crimes of every day in Tharsis, Mars.]

Chapter - 1. One Last Drink

Throughout Tharsis, the one business that profited the most was anything open after 8 in the evening. The Conan was one such business, a rustic bar nestled between other small diners, cafes and homes. It didn't have much of a presence, blending into the street that held it, yet at the same time, it looked significantly different from the rest.

Compared to other, more flashy and bustling dwellings, it looked like a place running for its money but they managed either way because there was no place that served alcohol in this part of Mars that could go out of business, even when it looked like it was snatched right out of a century-old movie.

In spite of its eccentricities, or rather, because of them, Theo found herself sitting at one of the stools with a glass of Pomegranate juice, listening to music on her headset. It had been an hour since she walked in, so she would come to know when she glanced at her watch for the nth time. As if on cue of her adjusting her sleeve over the watch again, the doorbell tingled, bringing a cold breeze in the warm haven.

The familiar tapping of a pair of large boots soon followed. She didn't need to look back to make sure they made their way to her.

"Hey." The usual greeting. He strode around the rounded corner of the counter to the stool adjacent to hers.

"Took you long enough."

He exhaled as he sat down. There were other seats available to her left, it was a tranquil evening after all. But they naturally gravitated to the corner, sitting on the edge of each side of the counter.

"I was busy."

She didn't push it, this was the routine after all. She was always the one to arrive first. Their seating was also a result of her choice to sit at a secluded side instead of the centre of the counter which was more popular. He would always be late enough for someone to come and occupy the seats beside her, leaving only the seats to the side where the bartender's attention only sometimes went. That side was always empty though, leaving the seat to her right always available and even on days like this, where her left was free, he still preferred to sit to her right. She didn't mind it either as it was easier to see each other's faces this way, easier to talk.

"Juice?" he asked, loosening his tie after unbuttoning his jacket. "Don't tell me you're planning to stay sober."

She set the glass down. "No, I ordered it 'cause I didn't know how long you'd be. I am trying to be mindful though. I have a pretty big job tomorrow, can't afford to get plastered."

"Hmm." He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and held it between his lips as he searched for his lighter. She watched it quite mindlessly, attention still half occupied by the song playing in her ears. "Where did I put my lighter…?" he mumbled as he patted all his pockets. 

She clicked her tongue before taking her lighter case out— a small, textured black cuboid that clicked open a push at its opening. Encased in red velvet cushioning was a gold-plated lighter which she lit in front of him.

"You seem out of it. Had a rough job?"

"Cut me some slack, will ya?" he said as he leaned forward, holding the cigarette between two fingers to the flame.

His cheeks hollowed breathing in the smoke, the circular end raging a bright orange. It was a little mesmerising, the fire— or what remained of it on the tip of his cigarette when she turned the lighter off. Shame she missed the reflection of the flame in his part-lidded eyes before he moved away.

"Want one?" He extended the pack of tobacco, to which she merely shook her head and put the lighter back in its case.

"You never smoke but carry a lighter all the time," he huffed, earning a light shrug from her as she stuffed the case in her pocket.

"What would you do if I didn't?"

A dry chuckle left him. "Fair."

He was silent for a moment, eyeing her headset.

"What're you listening to?"

"Hm?" She looked at him. "Just an old song from Earth. Wanna listen?" She took one of the earbuds out and handed it to him.

He had to move closer again, owing to her persistent use of wired headsets instead of wireless ones like most people in this day and age. The song was already past its first chorus and halfway through the second one, slowly ascending to its finale.

Theo guessed it wasn't out of the ordinary that she felt a little more conscious of the song now that there was someone else who was listening to it too. Perhaps because it, in a way, represented her musical tastes to him, for the first time nonetheless. She wasn't one to do that with a lot of people.

Spike stayed mindful of the smoke emanating from his cigarette, making sure he wasn't blowing it right into her face. There was little need for words as the lyrics sufficed to fill the silence for now. He continued smoking and she continued drinking her juice and maybe just a little too early, the song ended. He handed back her earplug, leaning into the backrest of his seat.

"What do you wanna drink?"

The bartender had shifted towards them. She thought for a moment as she put away the headset, leaving her ears open to the ambience of the bar.

"How about a Whisky Mac?"

"Always sticking with the classics. Two Whisky Macs," he ordered.

"Coming right up," the bartender said with a knowing smile on his wrinkled face.

Theo pillared her arms on the counter and rested her chin on intertwined fingers, watching the seasoned hands of the bartender as they prepared two glasses of the cocktail while a plume of smoke hazed her sight.

"So, how's work been going for you?" Spike asked.

She inhaled, feeling a sudden exhaustion weighing down on her at the mention of work.

"Same old, same old. Collecting, coercing…" Her voice trailed, eyes losing their focus. It didn't matter. He wasn't too focused either as he put out his cigarette on the ashtray the bartender habitually put there each time he sensed they would stroll in.

"You said you had a big job tomorrow. What's that about?"

"We're closing a pretty big deal tomorrow. I'm representing our side." She leaned back as the bartender set their drinks in front of them.

He let out an impressed noise.

"Aren't you a whiz?"

Despite the nature of his words and the faint smile on his lips, there was a hint of something else in his demeanour that she couldn't quite ignore. He didn't seem uneasy. Maybe he was just tired. Either way, she brushed it off for now.

She tilted her head, acknowledging the compliment before he raised his glass.

"Toast to what?"

She mused for a moment. They didn't toast normally but sometimes, he just was in the mood for that sort of stuff.

"To whatever significance we think this moment holds three or four years in the future."

She said it quite simply as she raised her glass as well, no deeper meaning embellished into it, on her side at least.

He huffed yet again. "Ain't that poetic?"

With a light push forward, they clinked their glasses before taking their first sips at the same time. The faint thud from the glasses being set on the wood was lost in the beginnings of a song being played on the record player. That was late too. Usually, the music would start around the same time the bar opened but it had been long since then.

Theo jerked her arms in front of her to pull the jacket sleeves up a bit before resting her wrists on the counter, getting more comfortable as she picked up the ice-cold glass again.

"New watch?" His voice cut through the vague ghost of 'silence' they had amid the music-filled air.

He pointed to her wrist with a flick of his chin and she looked down at it.

"Oh, yeah," she lifted her hand and pulled the sleeve away a little more to see the dial fully.

"I got it a couple of weeks ago." She extended it towards him.

He pulled her hand closer to look at the watch better in the dim light. A low hum reverberated through his chest as his thumb brushed over the shiny, sleek glass; fingers feeling the black, full-grain leather strap.

"Neat." He let go and she retracted her hand.

"Cost me a pretty penny."

"M'yeah, looks like it."

They took their sips for a pause before there was more to say.

"So, how about you? I haven't heard from you in a while and you suddenly invite me for a drink."

"Yeah, I've been busy." He pulled out another cigarette. "But you know it has been a while since we met up, so."

He didn't thank her as she lit his cigarette again— he hardly ever did. He hardly ever needed to.

"That's strangely sentimental."

He laughed; a wry, throaty kind of laugh, the kind that suggested that he wasn't expecting to laugh, not now, not for the rest of the evening.

"Is it really that odd?"

She placed the lighter case on the counter and left it there, sure of the probability that he was going to need it again.

"Hm, I don't know, maybe."

There was a pause, Theo leaned all the way back in her seat, stretching her legs, dark eyes carrying thought.

"They say people who know they're about to die soon suddenly start acting all nice," she commented.

He laughed yet again, but nothing like before. He laughed, a genuine, light-hearted, out-loud laugh that left him with a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face.

"You're on a roll today, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Aren't I always?"

He shook his head, taking a drag and sip.

"Well, spare me for wanting a drink with a friend."

"Alright." She swirled the liquid around before a sip. "I haven't been here since our last time either."

"Your partner doesn't take you out?"

She shook her head. "Roderick is too uptight for drinking." She paused. "Then again, he'd say the same about me."

Spike leaned forward, placing his elbow on the counter and resting his cheek in his hand. "Simply can't enjoy a drink without me, can you?"

Theo rolled her eyes. "You flatter yourself."

"It's a matter of admitting. I admit that a drink just doesn't taste the same without a good pal beside you." He made his appeal by moving his cigarette-holding hand around.

She couldn't help the tiny smile. "Okay. It doesn't taste the same without you. Happy?"

He nodded and leaned away again, giving his back a rest.

Another stretch of wordlessness settled between the two Red Dragon members. The alcohol drowned the light chatter around them, the clink and clatter of glasses and plates an ornament to the subdued jazz.

Theo's eyes watched; the golden reflections of the old-style lamps in the rocks glasses atop polished dark wood, the spherical ice bobbing up and down with each movement of the lemony, gingery cocktail, the long, slender fingers resting their tips on the wide rim, the wisps of smoke oozing out of the rolled paper held between said fingers. Quite commonplace for her. She always was focused on little things, things that most would say didn't matter.

What mattered, truly, was what she never looked at; the solemness in the eyes of her drinking buddy as they were lost somewhere ahead. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray, crushing it in a drawn-out, ruminative manner. His fingers, eager to stay occupied, opted to play with the slice of lemon wedged on the rim of his glass.

"You know, I wanted to get drunk tonight," he said without looking up.

She did raise her gaze to his face this time.

"Be my guest. Someone's gonna have to get you home. I'll do you the favour."

He stayed quiet.

Interrupting the slow symphony that the bar had established, a rumble was heard outside.

She glanced at the door. "Looks like it's going to rain."

"I hope it does."

She frowned ever so slightly before turning to him again. He hadn't looked up for a second, eyes glued to the glass. She would have to be stupid to not notice the dejection in his eyes now that she was seeing them. For a second, she didn't know what to say, however uncharacteristic that was. Although, that seemed to be a running theme whenever it came to Spike. But eventually, the intrinsic nature of analysing and formulating kicked in as was common in her more professional conversations.

"Is there something you want to say?"

Something told her his raising the glass to his mouth was an attempt to bail, even just for a second before putting it back down with a little smack of his lips. He gulped thickly before taking a deep breath and holding it in his chest like the weight he couldn't seem to let go of.

"I'm leaving." For a second, she couldn't tell if she even heard him, his voice nothing more than an exhale.

And for a second, time seemed to halt in its merciless stride, the music and prattle fading to absolute nothingness. Complete, stark, deafening absence of sound. She didn't know how long she sat there, still as a statue, staring at him agape. Despite the vagueness, she knew what he meant.

The slow ascension of the pattering of rain outside was what brought her back to reality. In an unwitting imitation, she inhaled deeply.

"That's what this was about…" she murmured, averting her gaze from him to glance at the ceiling to collect her thoughts.

And yet again, she was left scrambling for something to say. The difference this time was that there was so much to say, so many questions. Yet she couldn't bring herself to ask any of them. It didn't matter, after all— how? why? when?— he wouldn't answer. Even if he was willing to answer, there was no point in knowing. What mattered was that he was leaving the Syndicate.

Regardless, she shuffled in her seat, unsure what was the right thing to reply with. He was quiet too. He probably wasn't expecting anything from her. That was probably why he told her in the first place; because she rarely ever asked questions.

"Well…" she took another deep breath and opened her mouth just a second before speaking, "All the best for that."

Any other time, she would have slapped herself for something so generic but in the moment, there was nothing else she could think of. He nodded rather mindlessly, forcing a tiny whisper of a smile as he raised his eyes to meet her again.

"Another round?" he asked, making her realise both of their glasses were empty now.

She nodded and the bartender was at it again after an intimation. They didn't toast that round. Or any that followed for that matter. Not that things had soured or anything. It just didn't cross their minds. Perhaps it was better that way, sticking to the regular rather than trying to turn it into something special.

The night advanced, full of light discourse that got increasingly muddled with alcohol— more on Spike's side than Theo's. They talked for hours as the bar got emptier over time, the storm on the outside barely anything to consider. It served as another reason for Spike to keep drinking, and that, he did.

Before either of them knew it, it was already well past 3 AM. The closing hour was still a while away but Theo decided they had had enough to drink. She paid for both of them before dragging an absolutely hammered Spike out. She had him draped over her shoulders as they staggered out the doors and waited for a taxi.

He kept mumbling incoherent nothings as she held him up, the chill night air causing her hair to stand on end. Still, it was a scene she would likely never forget; a moment of calm and strange allure. The array of neon signs reflected on the damp concrete, the faint clouds that lingered in front of them with each breath, and the much-needed warmth that came without asking— all forever etched themselves into her memory. Perhaps because this could turn out to be their last drink together for a long, long time until someday, maybe, by chance, they'd stumble upon each other again.

Spike fell asleep in the backseat of the taxi, or so she thought until she instinctively turned to check on him, only to find him fighting his slumber, watching the flurry of lights whizzing past the window. Slumped as he was, he was awake, catching every glimpse of the familiar streets of Tharsis that he could, looking as if they would disappear if he didn't capture them in his eyes.

She was a little disappointed when the car stopped in front of his apartment. Too soon. But she knew no matter how long it took, it would always be too soon. She got him up to his flat where he fumbled for the key, muttering something the whole time.

She pushed past the door and stumbled into his bedroom, with remarkable ease in the dark, no less. She had been there before, though only a few times— times just like this when he'd get drunk to a stupor and she stayed just sober enough to get him home. Yet that was enough for her to know his home space like the back of her hand.

"Thanks a bunch," he slurred, "You're a real one."

He had the mind to shrug off his trench coat and jacket before dropping on the bed with a thud. He kicked his boots off afterwards. She pulled his blanket over him, making him melt into the mattress.

"Mmm… I'll miss you when I'm gone…"

She stilled for a moment, gazing at his drowsy face.

"…I'll miss you too." She paused, partly losing her focus behind the haze of thoughts and alcohol. "How will I ever enjoy a drink again?"

He wasn't listening, of course. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the peace that settled on his features alluded to it. She sighed before standing up straight. Each time she would witness this sight, each time she would be left surprised. Spike was a revered member of the Syndicate, the strongest perhaps but like this, stuffed in his bed with a light flush on his cheeks, sleeping like a baby, he was just another man.

Maybe this was what she had failed to see all along— the man he was deep down, the man Julia saw in him. He was lucky for that. If not her, he at least had Julia to see him for who he truly was, to love him. He deserved that, however hard it was for them to keep loving each other.

She walked across the room, holding the doorknob before she turned to take one last look at his sleeping form.

"Good night, old sport."

She closed the door, unaware of the subsequence that three days from then, she would receive the news of his death.

————————————————————————

Here it is!

Cursed Fate: Chapter 1

"You’re not alone, you know."

Kaito’s eyes flickered open, the memory of that night drifting back into her mind like an unwanted visitor. She was small again—too small—sitting curled up in the corner of a room that wasn’t hers, in a world that still didn’t feel real. Even though she was saved and brought to Jujutsu High, she still felt the cold grip of fear in her chest, like she was being watched.

And, of course, she was. She could always feel them, even now—lingering just beyond her sight, in the shadowy corners of her vision. The forms. The things that had followed her since… since forever.

"They’re still there, aren’t they?" a voice broke through the silence, softer than usual. It was Panda, sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor, much smaller than he was now, his black-and-white fur glowing faintly in the dim light.

Kaito didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Panda always knew when something was wrong, even if she didn’t say a word. She felt his round eyes on her, not prying but patient.

"You don’t have to talk about it," Panda said quietly, leaning back on his paws. "But, you know, I get it."

Kaito’s eyes shifted slightly, her brows furrowing. She doubted that. No one could understand what it was like to always be haunted by… them. The cursed forms that had attached themselves to her. They never left her alone. Not for a second.

But then Panda continued, as if sensing her disbelief. "I’ve got them too, you know."

Kaito’s gaze finally moved toward him, narrowing. 

"What?"

"My siblings," Panda said, tapping his chest lightly with a paw. "They’re not like most people’s brothers and sisters. They’re inside me. I can feel them all the time, just like you can feel…" He trailed off, not pressing further, but Kaito knew what he meant.

"You mean they’re part of you," Kaito muttered, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She didn’t mean to sound rude, but the comparison felt off. Her… whatever they were… didn’t feel like family. They felt like threats. Like she was constantly one bad moment away from losing control.

Panda just shrugged, his easygoing smile never faltering. "Yeah, they are. But they’re still with me, always. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. I think it’s like that for you too."

Kaito scowled. "It’s not like that." Her fists clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling up. "They’re not… they’re not like siblings."

Panda didn’t flinch at her tone. He just nodded, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Maybe not exactly. But they’re still part of you, right? And that means you’re in charge. No matter how loud they get, you’re the one calling the shots."

Kaito scoffed, but deep down, she wanted to believe him. How could he make it sound so easy? He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, to live with something inside you that you couldn’t control.

But the way he said it—like it wasn’t a curse, but something normal—made her chest feel a little less tight.

"It’s not about them controlling you," Panda added gently. "It’s about you making them part of your strength. You’re stronger than you think, Kaito."

She didn’t answer, but her fists slowly unclenched, the tension in her body easing just slightly. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was about more than control.

"You don’t have to do it alone," Panda said, his voice soft but steady. "You’ve got me, and Yaga-sensei. And hey, I’m your big brother now, so I’ll help you with whatever’s going on in that head of yours."

The words sunk in slowly, their weight sitting with her as she sat in the quiet. Panda, despite being younger than her in terms of creation, always had a way of making her feel safe, even when she didn’t want to admit it.

Kaito exhaled slowly, the heavy knot in her chest loosening just a little. She wasn’t ready to believe everything he said, but it was the first time in a long while that she didn’t feel completely lost.

---

“Kaito!”

The door to her room slammed open with a loud crash. Kaito groaned, already knowing exactly who was responsible before she even opened her eyes. She threw a hand over her face and mumbled into her pillow, "Is it too much to ask for a normal wake-up call?"

Panda’s heavy footsteps stomped into the room, his towering figure making the space feel smaller as he leaned over her bed, his grin as wide as ever. "I tried knocking last time, remember? You threw a book at me."

"I missed on purpose," Kaito grumbled, rolling over to face the wall, making it clear she wasn’t ready to start the day.

Panda flopped onto the edge of her bed, clearly not getting the hint. "Yaga’s sent me to get you. And you know how he gets when someone doesn’t show up on time."

"Yeah, yeah. What’s the grand lecture about this time? Do I need more ‘self-discipline’? Or maybe it’s about how I ‘lack focus’? Really looking forward to hearing that for the hundredth time." Kaito’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but she sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was used to Yaga’s never-ending lessons about responsibility and discipline—it was practically a tradition by now.

"Actually, no lecture this time," Panda said, leaning in with an exaggerated whisper. "You’ve got a mission."

Kaito’s eyes opened fully, now interested. "A mission? What kind of mission?"

Panda shrugged, still grinning. "Something about cursed objects. Yaga didn’t give me the full details, but he seemed serious about it."

Kaito sighed and dragged herself out of bed, grabbing her jacket off the chair. "Great. If Yaga’s serious about it, then it’s probably not good news."

Panda bounded to the door, waiting for her. "Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine! I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?"

Kaito gave him a withering look as she pulled on her boots. "You know you’re never supposed to say that, right? You’re just begging for something to go wrong."

Panda chuckled, completely unbothered. "What can I say? I like living dangerously."

"Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t regret getting out of bed for this," Kaito muttered, more to herself than to Panda, as they made their way to the main hall.

__

By the time Kaito reached the main hall, Panda had disappeared to do whatever it was Panda did when he wasn’t annoying her. She dragged her feet a little as she approached Yaga, already preparing herself for whatever this "mission" was.

"Finally," Yaga said, arms crossed as he watched her approach. "You’re late."

"Technically, Panda’s late," Kaito said, raising a lazy hand as if to make a point. "I blame him for being a terrible alarm clock."

Yaga’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He waved a hand dismissively. "We don’t have time for your usual excuses, Kaito. This isn’t a lecture. I’m assigning you an important mission."

Kaito raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "No lecture? Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Should I call Gojo to check your temperature?"

Yaga’s expression didn’t waver. "Keep the jokes to a minimum. You’re going to retrieve a cursed object—a finger of Ryomen Sukuna."

Kaito’s sarcastic smirk faded instantly. Sukuna? The King of Curses. She’d heard the stories, knew how dangerous even a piece of him could be. And now Yaga wanted her to go after one of his cursed fingers?

"Wait, wait, wait," Kaito said, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "You’re sending me to get a finger from the King of Curses? Isn’t that like… serious cursed energy business? Don’t you usually send, I don’t know, someone who doesn’t skip morning runs for stuff like that?"

Yaga’s gaze remained steady. "You’ve been training for this, Kaito. You’re more than capable of handling the retrieval. Fushiguro will be accompanying you."

Kaito snorted. "Fushiguro? Great. Can’t wait for him to stare at me with that deadpan face while I’m trying not to die."

"Fushiguro is a capable sorcerer," Yaga said, ignoring her joke. "You’ll work well together."

"Yeah, if I don’t fall asleep mid-conversation," Kaito muttered under her breath, though the knot in her stomach tightened. Sukuna’s finger wasn’t just some random cursed object—they were talking about one of the most dangerous relics in existence. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for something like that.

"So, let me get this straight," Kaito continued, her sarcasm now a thin veil for her growing anxiety. "You want me, your most undisciplined, least reliable student, to go pick up a piece of the literal King of Curses? Do you really think that’s a good idea?"

Yaga’s expression softened, just a fraction. "You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Kaito. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it."

Kaito shifted her weight, rubbing the back of her neck, but Yaga wasn’t finished.

"You’ve come of age," Yaga said, his tone steady but not without a hint of pride. "You’re sixteen now, and that means you’re officially enrolled in Jujutsu Tech. You’re no longer the kid we took in—you’re a sorcerer in training. It’s time for you to start taking on missions like this."

Sixteen. That word hit Kaito harder than expected, but not in the way Yaga probably intended. Sixteen meant officially a part of Jujutsu Tech. Sixteen meant she was supposed to have things figured out—be someone reliable. Instead, all she could think about was how long she’d been stuck here, training, being told she was getting stronger, but never really feeling it.

She thought back to when Yaga and the others took her in, back when she was just a mess of anger, confusion, and too much cursed energy for her own good. She hadn’t wanted their help then. Hell, she didn’t even like them at first. She’d been dragged into Jujutsu Tech like a problem that no one could fix. And, if she was being honest, she still felt like that sometimes—like the chaotic mess they hadn’t managed to iron out yet.

And now Yaga was saying she wasn’t that kid anymore. Like she’d somehow become this competent sorcerer-in-training overnight just because she’d hit a milestone. As if being sixteen made her any less of a wreck.

Kaito crossed her arms, her voice dropping as she glanced away. "I don’t know… it’s been quiet lately. Too quiet." She didn’t say it outright, but Yaga knew exactly what she meant. Her cursed forms—she hadn’t heard from them in months. And the silence was getting to her.

"I haven’t felt anything from them," she muttered. "No sign, no noise. It’s like they’re waiting for something… I don’t know if I’m ready for this."

Yaga stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "The silence isn’t a warning, Kaito. It’s a sign that you’re gaining control. They aren’t running the show anymore—you are."

Kaito’s throat tightened. She wanted to believe him, but the silence felt too eerie, too unnatural. "Or it means they’re waiting for the perfect moment to throw me under the bus."

Yaga shook his head. "You’re in control. Don’t let your doubts get the better of you."

Kaito glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her arms still crossed tightly. "I don’t know, Yaga… What if they take over at the worst possible moment?"

Yaga’s hand landed on her shoulder, and she reluctantly met his eyes. "They won’t. You’ve trained hard for this. You’re ready."

Kaito let out a slow breath, the sarcasm slipping from her voice. "If you say so…"

Yaga stepped back, his usual serious expression returning. "You leave in an hour. Fushiguro’s already been briefed. This is a retrieval mission—get in, secure the object, and get out. If things escalate, you know what to do."

Kaito nodded, though the weight of the task still sat heavily in her chest. "Got it."

But as she turned to leave, she couldn’t help herself. "I guess I’ll just let Fushiguro do all the talking. If he doesn’t creep everybody away."

Yaga sighed but didn’t comment.

__

Kaito walked across the sun-dappled training grounds of Jujutsu Tech, the early morning chill still lingering in the air. Her hands were buried deep in her jacket pockets, and though the weather was crisp and clear, her mind felt far from it. The weight of the mission Yaga had just dropped on her made each step feel heavier than the last.

Ahead, under the shade of a large tree, sat Megumi Fushiguro. He was leaning back against the trunk, his usual stoic expression fixed in place, a folder of mission notes open in his lap. Even from a distance, Kaito could tell that nothing had changed about him—his sharp, serious gaze, the way he seemed to hold himself as though he carried the world on his shoulders. He’d always been like that, ever since middle school, though he used to have a rougher edge back then. Kaito had seen the transformation firsthand—the delinquent who ditched class for fights now carried the weight of a sorcerer’s responsibility, his once reckless nature now channeled into something far more disciplined.

She approached him slowly, hands still shoved into her pockets, and smirked as she sat down beside him on the grass, kicking her legs out in front of her.

"You look like someone who actually cares about this mission," she said, her tone light but teasing.

Fushiguro didn’t look up from the papers in his hand. "You’re late."

"Huh, why does everyone say that?" Kaito replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a personal vendetta against clocks."

"You'd be late even if you were the one setting the time," Fushiguro muttered, still focused on the pages.

"Always so dramatic," Kaito said, lying back on the grass and folding her arms behind her head. "Anyway, you ready for this mission, or should I give you a pep talk?"

Fushiguro finally looked up from the papers, giving her a long, slow glance before turning his attention back to his notes. "I think I’ll survive without your motivational speeches."

Kaito snorted softly, looking up at the blue sky through the leaves above them. "Yeah, you would. You’d probably outlive all of us with that stone-cold attitude of yours."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, the rustling of leaves in the breeze filling the space between them. Kaito could feel the tension coiled tight in her stomach, but Fushiguro’s calm presence next to her, however serious, was oddly reassuring.

"So," Kaito said, finally breaking the quiet, "Yaga told me we’re dealing with Sukuna’s finger. Gotta say, wasn’t expecting that when I woke up this morning."

Fushiguro’s brows knit together as he closed the folder and rested it on his lap. "It’s not the first time we’ve encountered cursed objects like this, but Sukuna’s fingers are on another level. The cursed energy they radiate has already started to affect the surrounding area."

"Rural, right?" Kaito asked, recalling what little Yaga had mentioned about the mission’s location.

Fushiguro nodded. "It’s been causing disturbances there for days. We need to get in, secure the object, and get out before more curses gather around it."

Kaito exhaled slowly, her breath fogging in the cool air. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the ground. "Right. Just retrieve one of the most dangerous cursed objects in existence. Simple."

Fushiguro glanced at her sideways, his expression neutral but observant. "You’ve been on missions before."

"Yeah, but not like this," Kaito muttered, her fingers absently picking at the grass beneath her. "This is Sukuna we’re talking about. And to make it worse, I haven’t felt anything from… you know… them."

Fushiguro didn’t need her to explain. He knew what she meant—the cursed forms that lived within her. He’d seen glimpses of their destructive potential before, but hearing that they were dormant was… strange. "You mean they’ve been quiet?"

"Too quiet," Kaito said, frowning. "It’s like they’re lying in wait. I don’t like it. Silence like this makes me paranoid."

Fushiguro was quiet for a moment, processing what she’d said. Then, in his usual matter-of-fact tone, he replied, "It’s probably a good thing. If they’re quiet, it means you’ve been keeping them in check."

Kaito chuckled dryly, shaking her head. "That’s a popular opinion. Tends to be the thing most people choose over the possibility of them waiting for the perfect moment to screw me over."

Fushiguro didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes scanning her face as if assessing whether she believed what she was saying. "You’ll handle it," he said after a pause, his voice steady. "You always do."

Kaito raised an eyebrow, surprised at the hint of reassurance in his words. She’d known Fushiguro for years—first as the delinquent who never seemed to take anything seriously, and now as the no-nonsense sorcerer who could keep his cool in the worst of situations. It was strange, hearing him say something so… supportive.

"Look at you," she said, smirking as she nudged him with her elbow. "Who would’ve thought the kid who used to skip class to pick fights would turn into this? All grown up and serious now."

Fushiguro barely reacted, though Kaito could see the flicker of something—amusement, maybe—in his expression. "People change."

"Yeah, they do," Kaito replied, tilting her head slightly. "But you were way more fun when you had a rebellious streak. Where’s the guy who used to get into trouble?"

Fushiguro gave her a pointed look. "I don’t miss those days, and neither should you."

Kaito laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, okay, Mr. Responsible. But admit it, you miss the days when I used to make fun of you for being a troublemaker."

"I don’t," Fushiguro said flatly, but the faintest hint of a blush tugged at the tips of his ears.

Kaito leaned back on her hands, her eyes tracing the outlines of the clouds above them. "Well, either way, I’m glad you’re coming on this mission with me. I’d rather not face Sukuna’s cursed energy alone, and I’m sure you’ll keep me from doing something stupid."

"I’ll do what I can," Fushiguro replied, though his voice was as neutral as ever. "But we should keep the focus on retrieving the object. The longer we’re there, the more dangerous it gets."

"Ironic," Kaito muttered, thinking about the cursed energy buildup Fushiguro had mentioned. "I haven’t been out to the country in ages, but I’m guessing this won’t be a sightseeing trip."

Fushiguro stood, brushing off his pants as he did. "We’ll head out in an hour. The mission should be straightforward if nothing unexpected happens."

"Yeah, because nothing ever goes wrong on these things," Kaito replied sarcastically, standing up beside him. "But sure, let’s keep it simple. In, grab the finger, out. Easy peasy."

Fushiguro gave her a long, steady look. "Just follow the plan."

Kaito smirked, tossing her hands behind her head. "Oh, you know me—I’m great at sticking to plans. You just better keep up."

"Right," Fushiguro said dryly, but he didn’t seem too concerned. He started toward the gate, and Kaito followed, her steps feeling a little lighter now that she had something to focus on.

As they walked toward the exit, she couldn’t resist one more jab. "So, what is the plan? You let your shikigami do all the work while I stand back and look cool?"

Fushiguro glanced at her, his expression unchanging. "Has anyone ever told you you’re not funny?" Kaito’s expression also didn’t change. 

“Yeah.”

Fushiguro said nothing, though Kaito thought she caught the faintest smirk as they headed off toward the dorms. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d thought. Or maybe that was just her convincing herself.

The Fall

Taking a stroll around the deeper parts of the central park, he seemed to be following the silent wailing in the thicker, forest-like parts. The bright, high standing full moon and the countless invisible stars being the only witnesses to the scene, to take place.

"Oh wow, that's sorta but sorta not unexpected to find ya here.. don't ya think?" The breath and sobs from the smaller, cowering figure in front of him hitched and came to an abrupt, muffled stop. It's clear that this man was hunched over, kneeling on the ground with the bottom half of his light beige coat dirty from the muddy forest floor and grass.

"Not talking with me, no more, huh? Well, suite yourself." The taller mans eyes narrowed and filled with slight viciousness, a slim smirk formed on his lips. Then he held his hand out.

"Welp, come on then. It's pathetic enough you make it such a big deal out of nothing."

"Oh hush! Not another single word from your filthy mouth, you vile creature!" Ezekiel slapped the hand of the other away, starring right into the others' eyes. His baby blue eyes were completely void of this special and divine spark, that made it clear he wasn't quiet human but not anymore. Instead they were filled with contempt, pain, sorrow and most abstractly, humanity. All the things that made this whole moment feel so unnatural to Azazel, this beeing the real reason, he felt startled. Well, rather shocked would have been a better description.

"You.. You alone are the reason, I was dragged down to feel such a degrading emotion such as hate! You are the sole reason why I lost my true meaning! And only you are the reason, that the heavens sought to punish me by taking my wings! The reason I am stuck as a human for as long until some divine higher rising pities me enough to forgive the sin of hatred, is you! And I swear to whatever holiness is left in my being, that if it will be because of you, that I should fail this last trial of mine and that the archangels should rip away my halo as result... I will personally ensure, that you not only regret the day that you crossed my path, but the fact that I will never ever forgive you in any way for it." New tears were forming, the split second the former ones either rolled down and fell or were wiped off. His posture slumped over again, as another wave of unbarable hurt, sadness and uncontrolable urge to just cry came over the former angel.

The other only now understood, why he was left on erath with no way back. To find him... the fallen angel, who didn't belong nowhere.

"Wait for real, now..?" With his left hand now on his hip, the other went up to his own mouth, covering it. His eyes wide.

"..fuck-"

"-I neither want or need your played pity, demon! Just vanish from my sight! Preferably until after the last day I have to live this misserable mess of a new life, that you caused!" He was about to stand up and shoo him away,

"I don't want nor do I need your help- ahrg!!"

Ezekiel just manged to stand up, on the first step he did however he fell over, the now former demon, right there to catch him. This excruciating agony comming from his shoulder blades filling his whole body, and he cried out in pain. The other only holding him up for a while, until Azazel too slowly kneeled down with him. And after some failed atempts of trying to get out of the others arms, the now just light blond man stopped struggling.

With the realisation, that this pain must have been even worse for the other, as he fell even further, the first small raindrops started to fall. Suddenly there were more and more until there where storm clouds in the near distance, now cementing and finalizing the fact that heaven had lost another angel, crying for him.

"Come on, now we both can get sick from beeing dripping wet..." Said the one, who was holding the other, as soft as his rough voice would allow him to, just before he scooped him up, cradling and carrying him through the now pouring rain.

Thunder and lightning wandering ever so closer, setting the tone for the rest of the night and the days to follow this event.

Just a little something I had in mind about my characters lol

OC charas:

https://at.tumblr.com/magickizu/704756456807940096/jk28v8a5m9h0

Too much happiness here get sad or whatever!

I was listening to Alex G while doodling Jack, in result I drew him angsty :P

Click to see in better quality ❄️

Chapter 19 of A Work In Progress is out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59740147/chapters/158326210#workskin

Chapter Summary: It’s the day of Vector and Vanilla’s wedding, and Sonic, Shadow, and friends attend. There will be dancing, some strolling, and maybe some light angst?

This is my first time writing angst and man idk how yall do this all the time 😭 and even then I just followed it up with fluff lol.

Anyway, enjoy!

Just wrote my first Sonadow fanfic! Well, at least the first chapter. It’s an idea I’ve had in my head for a while, and I finally just wrote it out lol. Here’s the summary below if anyone is interested!

Slow burn Sonadow :) Sonic finally convinces Shadow to open up a little more, which ends up going a long way over time. The first chapter is kinda like a long prologue that leads to the beginning of Shadow and Sonic getting closer. Each chapter after will be little one shot-type stories in the same storyline that all lead up to, y’know, relationship and feelings lol. While Sonic and Shadow are young adults in this, there will be no sm*t. If anything there may be some tension, but mostly few and far between. I’m expecting about 4-5 more chapters before the romance really blossoms, but don’t worry, there will be a lot of cute and romantic things building up to that point. Also, final thing. While I try my best to write the characters as accurately as possible, I will be inserting my own head canons ofc. Anyways, hope you enjoy! And feel free to comment tips or suggestions!

Is the title still a work in progress, or are the hedgehogs a work in progress? You decide :)

pretty face :]