#I know its supposed to be at about the same time

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 9

Summary: Secrets are revealed on New Years Eve.

CW: Alcohol consumption, sexual references, mention of cigarettes, swearing, lots of drama.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

--

"YOU SLEPT WITH SIRIUS?!"

"Shh! Mary keep your voice down," you uttered, looking around to see how many of your coworker's heads had swivelled towards you in response to Mary's loud exclamation.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I'm just.. I'm in shock."

You sighed and leaned back where you were perched on the corner of her desk. "I think I am a bit as well."

There was a pause.

"Well, was it good?"

"Mary! Oh my god!" you groaned and threw a hand over your face to hide your mortification.

"What? I'm just asking. I can't say that I haven't imagined it once or twice myself-"

You slapped her gently across the shoulder with the back of your hand. "You're distrubed. You know that?"

She smirked. "You know you love me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. "Anyway, we'd been drinking and it was Christmas and we were having such a wonderful time. I think we just got swept up in it all and now I don't know what to do. Things have been kind of... weird between us."

"Well have you guys talked about it?" Mary inquired.

"That's the thing. Afterwards he just kind of moved on like it never happened. I don't know if he thinks it was a mistake or something but it's stressing me out."

"Hmm," a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face as she took everything in. "Well how are you feeling about it? Do you think it was a mistake?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No? I-I don't think so. I dont know."

A look of realisation washed over Mary's face. "Do you like him??"

"I mean, of course I like him. I'm just not sure I like like him."

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god! We're not in Primary School, just answer the damn question!"

"Fine! I guess the answer is... yes?" you sighed. "But whatever! Does it even make a difference? He's made it exceptionally clear that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Look," Mary huffed, her expression growing sincere. "Sirius is great. He's fun and friendly and a total flirt but he's also been known to be a little emotionally constipated. Just be honest with him. Talk to him about it. He's not going to be able to pick up on any signals you're trying to send him."

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a breath throught your nose. "Ugh fine."

"Good girl," Mary smiled. "Now go away. I actually have some work to get done today."

"Oh fine. I suppose I know when I'm not wanted," you teased, getting up and walking back towards your desk.

"Love you!" Mary called lightheartedly as you walked away.

"Yeah, yeah," you joked in response.

As you arrived back at your desk and slumped down in your chair, prepared to get back to work, a head peaked down at you over the cubical.

"Oh, you're back, I see."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and looked up to see its perpertrator.

"Yes, Glenn. Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Glenn was a new employee in your office and he sat in the cubical opposite yours. He was only a few years older than you and he was tall and fit with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In the few weeks you'd known him for, he'd been particularly friendly towards you and recently you'd been getting the idea that he had taken a liking to you.

You weren't interested of course. He was an attractive guy but not really your type. And with everything going on with Sirius over the last week, you'd been making a effort to put some distance between you. You definitely weren't looking for anything of that nature right now and you didn't want to give him the wrong impression. However, Glenn was nothing if not persistant.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for new years tonight? A few of my mates are throwing a party and you're welcome to join us if you're interested."

You sent him you're most empathetic smile. "That sounds lovely but unfortunately I already have some plans with my friends."

He sighed, flashing you a grin that looked suspiciously rehearsed. "Oh well. No problem. It was worth a shot. You have fun tonight."

"You too, Glenn."

As the man dissapeared back over the divider, you let out a heafty sigh. Tonight was surely going to be interesting.

--

The view was impeccable from the bar where your friends had gathered to spend New Years. In fact, seated beside a huge floor to ceiling window, you suspected you'd have a clear view of the New Years fireworks.

It was a classy joint, one that Dorcas had managed to get you access to through one of her fancy lawyer contacts.

Everyone was assembled on stools around a table, looking out over the London skyline. It was about four hours until midnight and the group was chatting excitedly in the lead up.

"I've got shots!" Mary called out and everyone cheered as she returned to the table with a tray.

She passed the drinks around and then took her seat beside you.

"Well, I suggest a toast!" James called out, grabbing the attention of the group. "To a wonderful year ahead, and many more memories with old, and new, friends!"

He emphasised the last line with a pointed look in your direction and you felt your cheeks growing hot.

"Cheers!" Marlene shouted enthusiastically and the others echoed her sentiments, clinking glasses and swallowing their drinks.

The burning of the liquor was welcomed as the drink ran down your throat. You'd been thinking a lot about what Mary had said to you in regards to your situation with Sirius. And as he sat beside you, laughing animatedly at one of Peter's stories, it only confirmed your worst fears. Maybe you were starting to develop feelings for your roommate. You grimaced at the thought. Things were bound to get messy in situations like this.

"So guys," Sybil piped up from across the table. "Let's all go around and say our New Years resolutions."

"Oh, I'll go first!" James volunteered. "I hope my team continues to play a great season annnddd... I want to work out more."

There was a collective groan.

"Come on, James. That's not a real one!" Mary complained.

Sirius chuckled, taking a pointed sip of his drink. "Yeah! You already work out like 7 times a day!"

"Ugh, okay fine!" James responded with groan. He thought for a moment. "How about this one. I'd like to fall in love this year."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered across the table towards Lily and you felt your heart sink. Lily seemed to take notice a well as she averted her eyes, taking a heafty gulp of the drink in her hand.

"Aww, James. Always the romantic, aren't you?" Marlene chuckled.

"Shut up." James rolled his eyes playfully. "Your turn then, Marls."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "My goal this year is to become super rich and famous and sucessful."

"I second that!" Mary called across the table and you giggled as they clinked their glasses.

"Y/n. Your turn," Dorcas announced.

"Oh okay, um..." you thought for a moment, your gaze flashing to James and Remus across the table, then over to Sirius, who was watching you expectanly, a playlful glimmer in his stormy eyes.

You then looked back towards the rest of the group. "This year, I'd like to spend some more time with you lovely people."

A round of cooing echoed across the table and Mary threw her arms around you.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest!"

"Oh, and I'd like to work more on my novel," you added.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, you're up!" Marlene chimed.

The boy beside you pursed his lips, looking off into the distance as if deep in thought. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to all of you with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"This year, I want to have lots of amazing sex!"

"Ew. Sirius, you're so foul," Lily exclaimed, followed by a symphany of similar sentiments from the other members of the group.

While everyone else was distracted, grumbling and groaning about Sirius' bluntness, the man leaned down towards you.

"You look great tonight, by the way." He whispered into your hair.

You gulped thickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You opted for downing the remainder of your Vodka, Lime and Soda.

--

As the evening drew on, you found yourself growing more anxious in Sirius' presence. You weren't quite sure what his game was, whether it was the alcohol or he was just feeling extra bold tonight, but he'd been suspiciously flirtatious.

You didn't know how to respond. Part of you wanted to let him. To let him woo you and go crawling back for more of what you'd had together on Christmas Night. However, the other, more logical part of you, told you that was a terrible idea. He was your roommate afterall. The last thing you wanted was to start some complicated friends-with-benefits situation with a guy you lived with, especially one that you had sort of, maybe, possibly had caught feelings for.

You downed another drink, feeling the alcohol grip you and hoped it would help to ease the nerves ever so slightly. You realised then, that you were staring.

Sirius had gone to the bar to order another round of drinks and you'd been watching with bated breath as he sent his signature smile to a girl wearing an explicitly tight black dress. You noticed the way she leaned forward, pressing her cleavage up against the bar as she spoke to him. God, could she be anymore obvious?

"Calm the hell down, y/n!" You thought to yourself. "It's not like you guys are together. He can flirt with whoever he wants."

"Hey, are you okay?" you raked your eyes away from the scene as a voice came from beside you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," You muttered absently, too distracted to notice that it was Remus who asked the question.

"Okay, never have I ever... made out with more than one person on the same night!" Mary's voice rang out and you forced your attention back to the group.

You weren't sure when this game had begun but you suspected it was suggested by one of the girls (likely Mary or Marlene) as a way to pass the final hour until midnight. You hadn't participated in this game since probably highschool, but you were all a few drinks in at this point so you figured, what the hell?

You watched as Marlene, James and Dorcas all took a sip. Then Lily sent Mary a pointed look.

"Come on, Mary. That's not how the game works. You have to say something you haven't done."

"I haven't!" Mary responded. Then she paused. "Oh wait, yeah I definitely have."

Everyone chuckled as she took a drink.

"Alright! Dorcas! Your turn." Mary nudged the girl in the side.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "For the record, I just want to say, I think this game is stupid."

"Come on babe. Don't be a party pooper!" Marlene exclaimed, leaning in towards her girlfriend. "How else are we supposed to learn everyone's deepest darkest secrets."

Dorcas sighed and shook her head but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She really could never say no to Marlene.

"Ugh, fine. Never have I ever stolen something."

"Well that's a hard one," Mary muttered. "What do we count as stealing? Because I've stolen stuff from James a ton of times."

"Oi!" James shouted, looking positively affronted. Mary sent him an apologetic smile.

"No, not like that," Dorcas clarified. "It had to have been from an actual shop."

You all sat up straight for a moment, curiously looking around the group to see if anyone had. Hesitantly, Peter lifted his glass to his lips.

"Pete! What the hell!" James exclaimed.

"I don't know, I went through a phase in highschool!"

"What sort of stuff did you take?" Marlene pressed.

Peter shrugged. "Chocolate and ciggarettes, mostly."

There was an eruption of laughter that rippled across the table at Peter's revelation.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a degenerate among us," Lily teased, watching Peter's face flush bright red.

"Okay, okay. My turn!" Marlene said, once the laughter died down. "Never have I ever... gotten really sloshed and fallen down the stairs at my 18th birthday party"

"Hey! That's not fair!" James moaned, taking a sip of his beer. "You can't do targeted ones!"

Marlene just shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think that was established in the rules."

James smirked. "Fine then! Never have I ever had sex with someone at this table."

Your blood ran cold for a moment as you glanced back towards the bar. You sighed in relief when you saw that Sirius was still over there. In that case, you technically hadn't slept with anyone at the table. You were off the hook for now.

Marlene rolled her eyes at James and took a drink, as well as Dorcas, Peter and Sybil, however, you watched James' eyes widen as Mary also took a long sip.

"Mary!" Lily hissed across the table. Your heart plummeted.

"What?" Mary shrugged, the alcohol clearly having gone to her head. "We have to! It's the rules."

"Wait! Hold on," Marlene murmered, her eyes drifting between the two girls. "Did you guys..."

There was a heavy anticipatory silence that hung over the table as you all awaited Lily's response. The girl grimaced, as she tried to muster some kind of explanation.

It was then that her eyes drifted up to meet James' pleading ones.

"Lily?" the boy asked softly. Your heart broke for him.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?" the girl sighed. "Mary and I have sort of been seeing each other. Romantically."

"Holy shit!" Marlene shouted, candid and straight to the point as she usually was in these situations.

"How long has this been going on?" Dorcas questioned.

"It's still really new," Lily explained.

"We were just trying to figure out the right time to tell you guys," Mary added.

"So you're the one Mary has been seeing?" James murmered.

"Yes," Lily responded. "I'm sorry James but you had to know it was never going to work out between us."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, I know."

Then he started to stand. "I think I just need some air for a minute."

"James, wait-" Remus reached out to grab his arm but James shook him off.

"I just need minute," he repeated, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and hurrying towards the exit. Part of you wanted to go after him but the other part recognised that he probably needed some space to process things.

"Sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to ruin the night," Mary murmered folornly.

"No hun! you didn't ruin anything," you comforted.

"Yeah, we're really happy for you two," Dorcas added.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

"Absolutely. You both deserve to be happy," Remus confirmed.

Wide smiles crossed over the girls' faces.

--

It was two minutes until midnight and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't help but feel slightly disapointed. You supposed that there was some small aspect of your mind that hoped Sirius would be your New Years kiss.

You knew it was wishful thinking, especially when you hadn't even spoken about what happened between you, but with how he'd been acting towards you throughout the night, you'd allowed yourself to nurture that flicker of hope.

As people crowded around the window and the countdown began, you found your eyes searching the room for the dark haired man, wondering if just maybe, he'd make a last minute appearance.

"Five, four, three, two..."

You scanned the space one last time.

"One!"

You're last flicker of hope died out as your eyes finally landed on his form.

"Happy New Year!"

The shouts and cheers faded into the background as you watched Sirius press his lips to those of the boob-y blonde you'd seen him flirting with before.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion. You watched from afar as he tangled his hand in her hair, just as he'd done in yours only a week prior.

"Of course," you thought. "Typical"

It was Sirius Black you were talking about. You were stupid to think you meant anything more to him than a casual night of fun.

In an instant, you turned on your heel and walked towards the door, the sounds of the party fading into the background. You decided, instead of bumming around waiting for Sirius to notice you, you'd go look for James, just as you should've done much earlier.

The cold hit you like a block of cement as you stepped outside onto the street. It didn't take you long to find him.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of he bar, arms resting on his knees as he looked up towards the sky. Another explosion sounded and a flash of colour filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the cheers of excited people all around as they celebrated.

"Happy New Year, James."

He turned to look at you and in the flash of light, as another firework flickered across the sky, you were able to notice the faint tear tracks that lined his cheeks.

"Oh hey." he sniffled, rubbing a hand beneath his glasses and trying to regain a semblance of composure.

BANG!

You flopped unceremoniously onto the ground beside him as another flash filled the sky. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Funnily enough, in that moment, you knew exactly how he felt.

"Are you okay?" You asked him gently.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. I will be."

BANG!

"Good."

You both turned your gazes back to the display, taking in the beautiful array of colours filling the air. It wasn't quite the view you'd expected for the night, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

As you continued to watch the fireworks, you felt the gentle touch of a hand wrapping around your own. You smiled slightly as your fingers intertwined.

BANG!

Slowly, you shuffled closer and leaned into him, gently resting your head on James broad shoulder.

You stayed like that a while, just taking in the show, and each other's company.

--

Taglist:

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[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll��”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[pleasureable]

Pink Goes Well with Purple

Summary - After entering in a series of death games, a popstar fallen from grace finds comfort in a certain purple haired stranger.

Warnings - mentions of reader having pink hair (hence the title lol), ooc Thanos?, bad writing, please excuse any grammatical errors, this is pretty short

A/N - this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction for a character so I know this story might be hot ass, I just really wanted to jump on the Thanos bandwagon since he's one of my favs from this season and there's not enough fics on here for him to quench my thirst lol

Once a universally loved popstar, the emotional distress caused by the separation from your ex-boyfriend caused you to fall down a rabbit hole of sex and drugs, not to mention the $70,000,000 lawsuit you were slapped with after punching a paparazzi for putting his camera just a tad bit too close to your face. The heavy fallout from the legal battle was enough to make the whole world turn its back on you. Essentially blacklisted from the industry as a whole, you were desperate to rebuild your image (or at least get your money back) in any way you possibly could.

That's when you were approached by a man in a suit offering you $100,000 if you beat him in a game of ddakji. Managing to win 2 out of the 3 games played, you were given your $200,000 as promised by the suit-clad man standing before you.

"You know, I have a simple solution to your debts." he said. You were confused as to how he knew you had debts, you didn't recall mentioning your financial situation to him, at all. You tried to brush his comment off, maybe he had seen your name in a tabloid mentioning your lawsuit somewhere and he recognized you.

"How do you know I'm in debt?"

No answer, he just pulled a card out of the inside pocket in his suit and handed it to you. "We don't have many spots left so if you're interested, please call us as soon as possible." Then, he was gone.

You spent the rest of the day looking at the brown business card given to you, you took notice of the shapes that were on the front of it. The simplistic design of the card was weirdly intriguing. On the back, a phone number. On one hand, you didn't want to be wasting your time. On the other hand, you needed money in order to rebuild your life. So, this could either be the biggest scam or the biggest blessing of your entire life.

Fuck it, you dialed.

You didn't really know it at the time, but that phone call would unleash a chain of events that would change your life, forever.

That's how you winded up in the situation you were in now. Transported to a room designed to simulate a courtyard, a giant doll on the other side of the room.

Suddenly, you heard a voice come up from behind you, "Hey señorita" the deep voice spoke. Turning your head around, your eyes were met with the sight of a tall, purple haired man. "Knew I recognized that pretty pink hair from somewhere. You're that singer that socked that paparazzi guy in the face; Y/N, right?"

"Yes, Y/N. Who are you?" I said back. "You don't know who I am?" He said, a twinge of pretend hurt in his voice. "Am I supposed to?" You always had a slight dislike for people who expected everyone to know who they were. Clearly, this guy was one of those people.

"No, but we can get to know each other. Tell me about yourself, beautiful."

"Are you flirting with me?" a slight smirk began to form on your face. While his attitude was a bit off-putting, he was pretty cute.

"Yo, pink hair, you're so fine

like a bouquet of flowers, all intertwined

You're the rose to my thorn, the petal to my stem

Red, orange, yellow, green

I'm a legend, Thanos"

You giggled at his comically bad attempt at freestyling. "Thanos, huh? I guess that would explain the purple hair. Although, you're not as hideous as the titan."

"I'll take that as a compliment, petal."

Masked men wearing pink jumpsuits began to round up every other person who was dressed in the same blue-green sweatsuit as you and Thanos; you did a quick head count, confirming the amount of people to be about 400. Once a female voice on the intercom explained that you were all going to participate in a game of Red Light Green Light, the big robotic doll began to recite the games' chant.

Red light, a bee had landed on the neck of the girl standing in front of Thanos while the doll was scanning the room for movement. ''There's a bee on you, don't freakout." Instantly, the girl began to swat at her neck in an attempt to get the insect off. While the scene unfolding was slightly amusing to watch, your heart felt like it had stopped once a single bullet pierced her forehead. Her blood had splattered onto Thanos's face, and you watched as his face dropped once her body hit the ground.

Green light, Thanos picked up his cross-shaped necklace and opened it, revealing an array of colorful, circular pills. "Want one, petal? They'll help you relax." Red light, you stood still while staring at the pills in his hands; you had been clean for a little over 3 months now, but pill popping had never sounded better. "Fuck it, give me one."

Green light, he quickly placed a blue colored pill in your hand then grabbed an orange pill for himself. He grabbed your hand and started to lead you both further across the courtyard. Immediately, you began to feel the effects of the mysterious pill you had just ingested. As you continued to advance through the game, your vision became nothing but a colorful kaleidoscopic blur. The sudden energy burst allowed you and Thanos to quickly cross the red finish line, jumping, dancing, and twirling together on the way there.

After the game was over, the remaining players were all taken back to the room where your bunk beds were. You and Thanos were standing against a wall together, giggling at seemingly nothing. "Stick with me from now on, petal. I'll protect you." He said, finishing his statement off with a playful wink. "THE Thanos wants to protect me? Wow, I'm so fucking lucky" you chuckled. "I'm serious! I wouldn't want anything to happen to my flower now, would I?"

You just looked at him with a slight smile. His nickname for you made you blush, your cheeks taking on a subtle hue that matched your hair. He had such a way with words, you couldn't help but be totally charmed by him. "Fine then, let's team up. Thanos the Mad Titan and Y/N, Popstar Fallen from Grace; world's greatest duo." Your words made him smile like an idiot. He loved your company already.

"Of course we're the world's greatest duo. Pink goes well with purple, petal."

[fortunxa]

「 ✦ first position, first impression ✦ 」

Jinx x ballerina!reader / modern AU

─── ballerina masterlist ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ // first position

summary: In the quiet of the studio, you were all precision and grace—until chaos herself walked in, grinning and uninvited, ready to flip your world upside down the same way she flipped the spray paint can in her hand.

contents: modern AU, opposites attract, meet-cute (kind of)

author's note: me? writing a ballerina fic? who would’ve thought.

The ballet studio was supposed to be empty. You had made sure of it. No prying eyes, no unwanted interruptions—just you, the mirrored walls, and the steady rhythm of your pointe shoes against the polished wood floor.

You loved these late-night practices. They were your time to breathe, to refine, to let your body tell a story words couldn’t. Tonight, the story was one of frustration—rehearsal hadn’t gone well, your instructor’s criticisms echoing in your mind.

More passion. More presence.

You stood at the center of the room, your feet perfectly aligned, arms curving into the first position. The music from your phone swelled, something classical and haunting. You’d been at it for hours now, the soreness in your legs creeping in, but you refused to stop.

Perfection doesn’t allow for breaks.

Your movements were precise yet flowing, each step a piece of something larger. You didn’t notice the faint click of the door unlocking or the light shuffle of boots on the floorboards. You exhaled deeply and moved into a pirouette—the rotation was smooth, but your landing faltered, your weight wobbling slightly. A sharp sigh escaped your lips as you returned to your starting position.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

You stumbled, spinning around to face the sound. There, leaning against the doorframe with a grin so wide it bordered on mocking, was a girl.

Blue hair—bright, messy, and sticking out in every direction. A pair of goggles sat pushed up on her head, catching the studio’s harsh fluorescent light, her jacket covered in patches and scuffs. She had a can of spray paint in one hand, and you swore you could see the air of chaos around her.

“Well, don’t stop now,” the girl said. “That was almost good.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

She pushed off the doorframe, completely unfazed, sauntering in like she owned the place. “Me? Oh, I’m just the humble artist who’s about to improve these boring white walls.” She gestured grandly at the pristine space. “But now I’m thinking maybe I’ll stick around for the floor show instead.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “This is a private studio. You’re trespassing.”

“Pfft, ‘trespassing.’ Such a fancy word.” The girl smirked, walking further into the room. “I was just passing by and heard the music. Figured I’d check it out. Didn’t expect to find you, twinkle toes.”

You straightened, a spark of indignation flaring. “I’m practicing.”

“Oh, so I saw.” She tilted her head, grinning. Was she mocking you? “Don’t get me wrong, you’re good. Very swan-like. Majestic.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. “I—thank you?”

The girl grinned again, and you instantly regretted acknowledging it.

“But,” she added, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey, “you’re so stiff. Like, do you even know how to have fun? Or is it all, like, one-two-three-four, rinse and repeat?”

“Stiff?” You echoed while the faintest flush rose to your cheeks—from the casual compliment or the taunt that came after, you weren’t sure. “Ballet is about discipline. It’s not supposed to be—”

“Fun?” she cut in, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Chaotic,” you finished, your eye twitch barely perceptible.

“Chaos is fun!” she declared, tossing her spray paint can into the air and catching it. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Before you could protest, the blue-haired girl spun in place, flailing her arms in an exaggerated parody of a pirouette. She stomped her boots loudly on the floor, throwing herself into a clumsy leap that ended with her sliding on her knees, hands outstretched like she’d just performed a grand finale.

“Ta-da!” she exclaimed, grinning up at you.

You blinked. And then blinked again.

You tried to hold onto your irritation, but the sheer absurdity of the performance made it impossible. The only graceful thing about it was her braids, flowing like water despite herself. A giggle escaped before you could stop it.

And her grin only widened. “Oh, I like that sound. You should do that more.”

“Laugh at you?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Exactly.” She stood up and dusted herself off. “So, what’s your name, ballerina?”

You hesitated. The girl radiated trouble, the kind that left a mess wherever it went. But there was something oddly magnetic about her—like she carried her own orbit and dared people to get pulled into it.

“…Y/N,” you finally replied.

“Y/N.” she tested the name, her voice turning almost sing-song. “Fancy. Mine’s Jinx.”

“Jinx? That’s your name?” you asked skeptically, although it explained a lot.

“Yep. Short, sweet, memorable. Unlike your stiff little arabesque.”

You frowned. There’s that word again. You knew she was just pushing your buttons on purpose now, baiting you. But you fell for it—line, hook, and sinker. “My arabesque isn’t stiff.”

“It is,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Show me again.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you wanna prove me wrong,” Jinx said, flopping dramatically onto the floor with a smirk. “C’mon. I’m here, you’re here. Might as well. Promise I won’t make fun of you this time.”

Something about the way she said it made you pause, your instincts warring with your pride. You weren’t sure if it was the challenge in her tone or the fact that this strange, chaotic girl had somehow made you laugh. You didn’t owe her anything, especially not a performance. But either way, you stepped back into position, adjusting your posture.

“Fine,” you conceded. “But no commentary.”

She zipped her lips and made an exaggerated motion of throwing away the key.

The music started again, and you moved. This time, though, you were aware of Jinx watching you. You expected to feel self-conscious, but instead, you felt�� free. Jinx wasn’t judging you—she was just there, soaking it in, her sharp eyes tracking every move.

When the music ended, you glanced over at her. She was sitting cross-legged now, her chin propped on her hands.

“…Well?” you asked, against your better judgment and slightly breathless.

She just stared at you, uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. Then, she nodded. “Not bad, ballerina. Not bad at all.”

“That’s it?”

“What, you want a standing ovation?” Jinx teased, though her tone was softer now. “Okay, fine. It was good. Annoyingly good. Makes me want to build you a little trophy or somethin’. ”

You shook your head, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a perfectionist,” she countered. “Guess we balance each other out.”

You opened your mouth to argue but found yourself faltering, taking a seat next to her instead and finally allowing yourself a break. “It’s just… everything I’ve worked for.”

She tilted her head, her braids swaying with the movement and her expression softening. “Yeah. I can see that.”

The both of you sat in silence for a moment, the sharp edges of your banter giving way to something quieter, more sincere.

You finally glanced at the spray paint still clutched in her hand, curious despite yourself. “You really think this place is boring?”

Jinx looked back at you, an almost knowing spark in her gaze. “It could use some… color.”

You hesitated, lost in thought. You didn’t know what it was—whether it was the anticipation of seeing your instructor’s look of horror the next morning or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you were actually beginning to like the blue-haired girl beside you—that prompted you to utter your next words. “Just the back wall,” you finally sighed.

And Jinx’s eyes lit up, her smirk reappearing. “Deal, ballerina.”

A chemical scent filled the studio as she got to work, and you stayed on the floor, watching her paint wild streaks of color and chaos. It wasn’t perfect—far from it.

It was wrong. Out of place.

But there was something oddly mesmerizing about it, too. And somehow, you just couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

[childrenofcain-if]

After knowing that C and MC were in the same high school, I'm rooting even more for them. I'm also guessing C's confusing feelings for us in their route is them liking us since school? That's so freaking cute 🥰🥺

Can I ask for a scenario where they have a group project with other people and one of them gets very flirty with MC? Will C let that slide, I wonder 🫤

the diner sat on the corner of a street that tried its hardest to look charming but failed, the neon sign buzzing faintly against the rain-streaked window.

it was one of those places that seemed plucked from a movie set: vinyl booths, chrome napkin dispensers, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked since the last century. the smell of grease hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixing with the faint sweetness of syrup from the breakfast specials they served all day.

you sat in the booth, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook, watching the door with mild dread. when C walked in, you knew the meeting was about to get infinitely more complicated.

C spotted you immediately, their sharp chalcedony green eyes narrowing like they’d been assigned a particularly irritating math problem. they weren’t dressed for the rain, but their aldervale prep blazer was immaculate, not a drop of water on it, as though the universe had conspired to shield them from the rain outside. although, you guessed it was most probably because of the black umbrella that they were carrying.

C slid into the booth across from you without a word, placing a pristine leather notebook on the table. their pen—silver, of course—clicked once. twice. a quick rhythm that made your teeth itch.

“you’re late,” you said.

“i’m exactly on time,” C replied, their voice clipped like the word ‘time’ had too many syllables and they were doing you a favor by saying it quickly.

your two other group members—darcy and lowe—arrived moments later, looking both nervous and excited, as though they’d stumbled into the VIP lounge of a club they didn’t belong to.

darcy, her backpack practically bursting with highlighters, was vibrating with energy. lowe looked more like they’d been dragged here against their will, though their eyes lit up when they spotted the milkshake menu.

you exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and got down to business.

the topic was seattle, your city, and you were supposed to collectively dissect and analyze for the sake of some interdisciplinary project that combined geography, economics, and, for reasons you still didn’t understand, poetry.

“seattle,” you began, flipping open your notebook, “has many layers to it. you have the tech billionaires building spaceships on one side and grunge bands writing songs about the end of the world on the other. i think we should focus on how those contradictions make it unique.”

“that’s pretty reductive,” C cut in, not bothering to look up from their notebook. “seattle’s economy is primarily driven by tech, aviation, and trade. if we’re going to present a meaningful analysis, we should focus on its economic impact on washington state as a whole.”

darcy and lowe exchanged nervous glances. you clenched your jaw.

“not everything has to be about numbers, lacroix,” you said. “people care about stories, not spreadsheets. we can talk about the economy, sure, but we should start with what makes the city feel alive. the art, the culture—”

“and completely ignore the practical context?” C’s gaze lifted then, their expression somewhere between exasperation and boredom. “that’s like writing about a chess game and leaving out the strategy. completely pointless.”

“it’s not exactly pointless if it makes people care,” you shot back.

the argument spiraled from there, gaining momentum like a runaway train. darcy and lowe sat frozen, their eyes darting between you like spectators at a particularly intense boxing match.

“maybe we should, uh, toss a coin?” darcy offered weakly, her voice barely audible over your bickering.

C smirked, pulling a coin from their pocket as though they’d been waiting for this moment to occur this whole time. you selected tails and they flipped it, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of their hand.

“heads,” they announced, triumphant.

you groaned. “of course.”

“don’t be a sore loser, starkid,” C said, their tone practically dripping with smugness. “we’ll just have to do it my way this time.”

“fine,” you muttered, slumping back against the booth.

the tension eased slightly as the waitress arrived with your food—burgers, fries, and milkshakes that lowe declared were ‘the best in the neighbourhood’ despite never having tried any others.

you talked about school, about the upcoming math test and the cafeteria food which had reduced in quality after some new kitchen staff got employed. darcy was surprisingly funny, and lowe had a good bank of knowledge on obscure sports trivia.

C, however, remained quiet. they ate slowly, like each bite was a boring task to be completed. their posture was rigid, their eyes rarely leaving their plate.

it wasn’t until the conversation turned to favorite places in washington that you noticed something shift. darcy was talking about summers spent hiking in olympic national park, her voice full of nostalgia. lowe mentioned a family road trip to mount rainier.

“so, lacroix,” you said, turning towards the grumpy brunette. “penny for your thoughts?”

they blinked, clearly startled that you’d addressed them directly. “i... i’ve never been to any of those places.”

the table fell silent. even darcy looked surprised.

“seriously?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

they shrugged, their gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the water glass. “i haven’t lived in washington as long as you all have. besides, i’m not exactly the adventurous type. i just… don’t see the point of, you know, wandering around aimlessly. it’s not like the city’s going anywhere.”

darcy, being the idealist she was, tried to lift the mood. “well, maybe you should visit some of those places one day! olympic’s amazing—especially the hoh rainforest.”

C didn’t respond. they just nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line.

for a moment, you felt something almost like sympathy. C, the untouchable perfectionist, didn’t seem know how to belong in places like this—in diners that smelled like burnt coffee, in conversations that meandered without purpose. they were as out of place here as a chessboard at a football game.

you then frowned, something tugging at the edges of your chest. you remembered hearing something once—maybe in passing, maybe during some rare moment of C opening up in class—that their parents had divorced when they were ten. that they’d moved to seattle from rochester, new york, with their mother, who worked long hours and didn’t have time for much else.

you didn’t know why you said it. maybe it was the way their voice had dipped, the way their composure seemed dulled. but the words came anyway. “maybe we could all go somewhere. for the project, i mean.”

C’s head snapped up, their green eyes narrowing like they were trying to decipher a riddle. for a moment, you thought they were going to say something cruel—an insult that’d have you getting angry again. but then their gaze softened, just a fraction.

“why?” they asked, the word almost inaudible.

you shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “i don’t know. it might help. plus, you can’t live like a hermit forever while you’re at washington.”

they stared at you for what felt like a long time, their expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, they nodded. wordlessly, awkwardly.

you thought you saw something flicker across their face then—something like a smile, small and fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came.

for the rest of the meeting, C avoided your gaze. and as you all filed out of the diner, the rain starting up again in soft patters against the window, you found yourself wondering why you’d even offered.

but the truth was, you already knew. sometimes, your heart reached out before your brain could catch up. and for reasons you didn’t fully understand at the moment, it had reached for them.

the day began under a gauzy layer of mist that hung low over seattle. the clouds seemed reluctant to rise and the air carried a faint, damp chill.

lowe’s BMW 5 smelled faintly of peppermint gum and an air freshener that promised ‘ocean breeze’ but delivered something closer to what you’d find at a more eccentric section of bath & body works.

you sat on the passenger seat, your elbow resting against the door, the window cracked open to let in the air. darcy and C were in the backseat, the former preoccupied with her camera, snapping pictures of the dashboard, the sky, and the brunette beside her, who looked like they were already regretting agreeing to this trip.

the car wove its way through the city, past coffee shops with hand-painted signs and streets lined with rain-slicked trees.

lowe, ever the conversationalist, started talking about the destination—a landmark tucked away in one of seattle’s greener corners. but at some point, the conversation shifted, becoming less about the destination and more about you.

“y’know,” lowe said, their voice taking on a teasing lilt as they glanced at you, “i’m really happy we’re doing this. i was always curious about how it’d be to hang out with you outside of school”

you blinked, caught off guard. “um, thanks? that’s nice of you to say.” you gave them a polite smile, the kind you might offer a friendly cashier.

C, sitting stiffly in the backseat, was less amused. they had been glaring at the back of lowe’s head for the past ten minutes, their jaw tight, their arms crossed. every tap of lowe’s fingers, every casual joke, seemed to grate on them like nails on a chalkboard.

darcy, oblivious, was busy snapping pictures with her camera, capturing the rain-slick streets and the way the trees blurred as the car sped past. she hummed under her breath, the shutter clicking steadily, her energy so light and cheerful it was almost its own soundtrack.

finally, C, who had been silent up until now, shifted in their seat with a sharp huff.

“lowe,” they spoke up, their tone clipped, “maybe focus on the road instead of hitting on that idiot right in front of us.”

you squawked in indignation at being called an ‘idiot,’ not exactly getting what else they were implying.

meanwhile, lowe startled, their hands tightening on the steering wheel. “what? i wasn’t—” they caught C’s glare in the rearview mirror and quickly relented. “right. sorry. road. eyes on the road.”

you glanced back at C, confused by the sudden shift in the mood. their jaw was tight, their arms crossed over their chest, and they avoided your gaze entirely. you thought about asking what their problem was but decided against it. the day was too early, and you didn’t want to start bickering already.

the destination turned out to be kerry park. you stepped out of the car and stretched, looking around with a grin. your group followed suit and, after taking your backpacks, trudged up the steep streets of queen anne.

the park was small, unassuming—just a sliver of land carved into the hill, a place where the city stretched out beneath you like a quilt stitched together by architects, lovers of symmetry, and disarray alike.

from here, seattle wasn’t a city so much as a panorama, framed by the wide arms of the sound and the occasional, fleeting glimpses of mount rainier, pale and insubstantial like the ghost of a mountain in the distance.

the rain hadn’t yet started, though the air smelled of wet concrete and petrichor, gave you an indication that it wouldn’t hold off for long.

darcy had already pulled her camera out, its strap slung around her neck as she wandered a few feet ahead, her voice rising and falling as she described the perfect angles for her shots. lowe was by your side, gesturing dramatically at the view as if they were a tour guide instead of a co-conspirator.

C, who had followed at a distance and was now leaning against a nearby rail, their arms crossed and their face set in a scowl.

“lacroix,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light, inviting. “you should come and look around with us. it’s cool.”

they raised an eyebrow, their expression unimpressed. “thrilling, i’m sure.”

lowe shot them a weird look but said nothing, their attention soon snapping to follow darcy on her photoshoots.

you turned fully to face C. “you don’t have to be so grumpy, you know.”

“i’m not grumpy,” they snapped grumpily.

you sighed, letting it go for now. instead, you wandered over to the railing where they stood, resting your elbows on the cool metal as you gazed out at the view.

“this place means a lot to me,” you began, glancing at C. they didn’t respond, but they didn’t walk away either, so you took that as permission to continue.

“when i was little, my dad used to bring me here. we’d spend hours looking at the birds. he had this old, beat-up field guide he carried everywhere. i still remember the smell of it—old paper and leather. he’d flip through it so fast, trying to identify every bird we saw. i think he liked the challenge of it.”

C’s features softened, almost imperceptibly, as they listened.

“there was this one time,” you said, your voice growing warm with the memory, “we saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees. it was so close, you could see the feathers on its chest ruffling in the wind. my dad was so excited, he nearly dropped his binoculars in a muddy puddle.”

you laughed. C smiled. it was not their usual arrogant smirk, but something too genuine to be described without it being an understatement.

even darcy noticed as she was snapping pictures of passers-by under the railing where you and C were leaning against.

from behind her camera, she whispered, “i think i just saw a miracle,” before snapping a picture.

in the photo, you were looking up at the sky, your face alight with wonder. and beside you, C was looking at you—not the sky, not the birds, but you. their expression was so unguarded, so tender, it made darcy pause, her finger hovering over the shutter button.

“and it’s not just the view or the birds,” you continued, your voice picking up momentum as you spoke. “there’s this whole history to it. did you know the park was named after albert sperry kerry? he was this big real estate guy in the early 1900s. probably bulldozed a lot of land to make a fortune. but this place? this tiny slice of the city? he gave it back. said he wanted people to have a place to breathe, to see things differently.”

you glanced over at C, expecting the usual sardonic remark, but they were watching you with an expression you didn’t expect—soft, almost eager, like they could never get tired of you talking about things like these.

“i guess i just like thinking about that,” you said, your voice trailing off as you turned back to the horizon. “how even someone who takes and takes can give something so beautiful.”

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, C said, “you really are a nerd, aren’t you?”

you laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, and while you didn’t have C laughing alongside you, you had a distinct feeling that they were too distracted by a certain someone to do so.

lunch was a quiet affair. you all sat on a damp wooden bench overlooking the trees. you plopped down beside C without a second thought, your shoulder brushing theirs as you unwrapped your sandwich.

C stiffened, their gaze flicking to you in surprise.

“you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, already halfway through your first bite.

they shook their head, though they looked puzzled, as if trying to understand why you’d willingly sit next to them when lowe was right there, still buzzing with laughter after a joke darcy shared with them.

“thanks for listening to me earlier,” you said softly.

C cleared their throat, their voice rough when they replied, “no problem.”

you still gave them a smile despite their (apparent) surly mood before turning back to your sandwich.

C looked down at their own food, their expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of pink dusting the tip of their ears.

maybe, C concluded, the whole practical aspects of the project could take a backseat for now. it seemed like they didn’t mind focusing on the people of the city after all—or maybe it was just this infuriatingly intelligent seattle native that they couldn’t stop smiling for.

you wondered if the extreme makeover crew ever came to take darcy’s house as an inspiration for a lot of their renovations. it was a gleaming two-storey in a neighborhood where the lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and the houses all had names like “birchwood” or “côte d’azur.”

her parents were insanely successful real estate agents and it showed in every detail, from the perfectly symmetrical hydrangeas flanking the front door to the wrought-iron chandelier hanging in the entryway.

her room was a microcosm of the house itself: spacious and spotless. honestly, it made you want to take your shoes off just to avoid dirtying the carpet.

the walls were painted a muted teal, lined with shelves holding an army of books and a smattering of knick-knacks from trips abroad. there was a citrus-like scent around, and her plush white comforter made her bed look like a stratocumulus cloud.

you all sat cross-legged on her floor, laptops and papers spread out in a semi-circle as you planned out your presentation. ‘soren’ by beabadoobee was playing from darcy’s bluetooth speaker and the conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter—mostly lowe’s loud, carefree chuckles and darcy’s softer, chiming giggles.

C, true to form, sat slightly apart, their long legs folded under them, their expression guarded but not unkind. they were listening more than talking, as always, their gaze darting between everyone like they were trying to keep up without wanting to look too interested.

“okay, but what if we start with the history of seattle, like the gold rush and all that, and then connect it to how the city evolved into this tech hub?” you suggested, glancing at C for approval.

the green-eyed brunette nodded once, their expression unreadable. “that works. it gives us a narrative to build on.”

lowe sidled up to you with an encouraging smile. “you’re always full of good ideas. i swear we’re going to ace this project at this rate.”

you laughed lightly, not catching the undertone. “it’s a group effort, lowe.”

“yeah, lowe,” darcy said, rolling her eyes in an annoyed manner from her spot near the window. “you’re really laying it on thick.”

you tried to smile it off but you couldn’t help but notice that she seemed almost... angry at lowe about something. the latter, on the other hand, was not meeting her eyes at all.

as if that wasn’t weird enough, you caught C stiffening out of the corner of your eye, their fingers tightening around their pen.

the awkwardness simmered quietly for a while, manifesting only in the way C’s responses grew shorter, their gaze darting less toward the group and more toward the window, where the rain streaked against the glass.

it wasn’t until lowe leaned closer to you, their voice dropping just enough to feel pointed, that the tension finally broke. “y’know, if you ever want to grab coffee or something after all this, i know a great place near pike place. it’s got this cozy corner that’d be perfect for—”

“i’m getting some water,” C announced abruptly, standing so quickly their chair scraped loudly against the floor.

the room fell silent for a beat as C walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hall. darcy glanced at you, then at lowe, and then back at you.

“you should go talk to them,” she said softly.

“what?” you asked, surprised.

“just... go,” she urged, nodding toward the door. “i think they need to hear from you.”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between the door and the others. but there was something in the way darcy looked at you, a quiet insistence that made you realise the urgency she was feeling. besides, with the way she turned her attention to lowe with a scathing glare, you did not want to get in between whatever they had going on.

so you stood, mumbling something about being right back, and headed for the kitchen.

you found C by the sink, their back to you, their hands braced against the counter. the faucet was running, though the glass they were holding was still empty.

“hey,” you said tentatively, stepping into the room.

they didn’t turn around. “what do you want?”

“i just... wanted to check on you,” you said, your voice faltering. “you looked kind of... i don’t know, upset?”

C finally turned, their chalcedony green gaze indecipherable and cagey. “i’m fine. you can go back to lowe now. you two were having such a great time.”

their tone was harsh, and it made you blink in surprise.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

C rolled their eyes, the motion exaggerated, almost theatrical. “don’t play dumb. it was obvious you two were flirting.”

you sighed, caught between disbelief and frustration. “we weren’t flirting. that’s probably just how lowe is. they were just being friendly.”

C let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound more of a bark. “you’re an absolute dunderhead if you believe that. lowe wasn’t just flirting for fun—they meant it.”

you felt heat rising to your face, your irritation bubbling over. “okay, first of all, stop insulting me. and second, would you please stop ruining everything with your assumptions.”

C flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause. their voice dropped, colder now. “maybe i should’ve asked the teacher to switch groups. if my presence bothers you that much—”

“maybe you should have,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “then maybe we wouldn’t have to deal with you being a burden all the time.”

for a moment, the kitchen was deathly silent except for the faint patter of rain against the window. C’s face twisted, not with anger but with something closer to hurt, and you immediately regretted what you’d said.

“okay,” they said quietly, their voice flat. “i’ll let myself out then.”

before you could say anything, before you could take it back, they were already walking up to the front door and reaching for their umbrella, their movements mechanical as they stepped toward the door. the rain outside had picked up, a relentless downpour that blurred the edges of the world.

you wanted to say something, to fix the fracture you’d caused, but the words wouldn’t come out on time.

C stepped into the rain without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them. you stood frozen, the echo of their retreating footsteps mingling with the sound of the storm.

your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides as you stared at the front door. you wanted to curse. to rewind the last five minutes and unsay every single word.

you ran a hand through your hair, muttering something unintelligible under your breath as you paced. your foot caught on the corner of the coffee table, and in your aggravation, you stumbled forward, knocking over the pile of photographs darcy had laid out so carefully.

“great,” you muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered pictures.

they were glossy and vibrant, capturing moments from your trip to kerry park just two days ago. you hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but now, as you picked up photo after photo, a pattern began to emerge.

in nearly every image, C was looking at you.

your fingers froze on a picture where their smile was so open, so completely unlike their usual self, that it felt almost like intruding on a scene you weren’t supposed to see. their dimples were unmistakable, softening the sharpness of their features in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

in another photo, they were standing slightly behind you, their chalcedony green eyes focused entirely on you as you pointed out something in the distance, completely oblivious to their adoring attention.

for a moment, you just sat there on the floor, staring at the pictures, the edges of the glossy paper dampening under your trembling fingers. then, as if pulled by an invisible string, you stood.

darcy had made her way to the living room and said something as you made for the door, but her words were lost to the roaring in your ears.

the rain hit you like a wall as you stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but you didn’t care. your feet moved on instinct, splashing through puddles as you ran down the street. it was a foolish thing to do, running in a storm like this, but every step felt like it was carrying you closer to something you couldn’t name but desperately needed to reach.

you didn’t know which way C went exactly, but you had a feeling.

and then, through the curtain of rain, you saw them.

C was standing under their umbrella, their posture stiff as they glanced down the street. the soft glow of their phone screen illuminated their face, but they weren’t scrolling or texting. they were waiting for an uber, probably. or maybe just waiting for the storm to pass.

you skidded to a stop, breathless and drenched. when they turned and spotted you, their eyes widened incredulously like you’d just teleported there.

“what the hell are you doing?” they demanded, their voice rising over the rain as they speed-walked up to you, umbrella in hand. they immediately held it over both of you, shielding you from the worst of the downpour. “have you finally lost your mind? you’re going to catch a cold!”

you were out of breath, your chest heaving as the water dripped from your lashes, but you didn’t care. “i’m sorry.”

C blinked, their mouth opening slightly as if they were going to argue, but you kept going. “i’m sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean it. you’re not a burden, C. i’ve never ever thought of you like that. the truth is—”

your words caught in your throat, the weight of them almost too much. but you forced them out. “the truth is, i’ve had a great time doing this project with you. i really didn’t mean any of it—about switching groups, about ruining things, you being a burden. i’m glad we got paired together, even if you drive me completely insane sometimes.”

“are you done?” they asked gruffly, though their tone lacked its usual edge.

you nodded sheepishly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

they sighed, lowering their gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. “i had a great time too. you... you made me see the city in a way i never had before. you made me appreciate it. i...” they sighed, “i was being too stubborn and i shouldn’t have given you a hard time with everything. and... i don’t mind your company, even if you’re way too dense sometimes to see what’s in front of you the whole time.”

the sincerity in their voice made your breath catch. right now, all you could do was stare at them and bask in the warmth they made you feel.

you admired the way their dark brown hair curled slightly at the edges, damp and clinging to their skin. the way the rain caught in their lashes, making their chalcedony green eyes glow as though a thousand hues were shifting like sunlight through sea glass. the way their fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the sharpness of their cheekbones, the curve of their lips, soft and slightly parted.

they shifted under your gaze, their cheeks suddenly flushing pink.

“what?” they snapped. “why are you ogling me?”

but you didn’t answer. at least not with words.

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, leaning in until your lips brushed against theirs in a kiss that felt as inevitable as the rain falling around you.

C froze, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief before they pulled back, their fingers flying to their lips.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurted out, the heat rising to your face as you realized what you’d just done. your heart was sinking in absolute shame. “i—”

but before you could finish, C let the umbrella drop to the ground with a soft clatter. rain cascaded over both of you as they grabbed your face with trembling hands as they surged forward, their lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

the world seemed to fall away in that moment, leaving only the two of you, your hands tangling in the fabric of their rain-soaked sweater as their fingers threaded themselves in your wet hair. it was cold, sure, but their kiss was warm, searing, as if it had been waiting to catch sparks all along.

your clothes were drenched and your hair was practically plastered to your face, but it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered.

it wasn’t until the honk of a car horn shattered the moment that you finally broke apart, both of you panting as you turned to see the waiting uber that C had previously booked.

C’s face turned crimson as they also turned to look at the car, their expression mortified and exasperated at the same time.

“putain,” they muttered under their breath before grabbing your arm and their umbrella. they then shut it quickly and tugged you toward the vehicle.

the uber driver, to his credit, said nothing as you both slid into the backseat, though the faint twitch of his lips and the knowing look he gave you two in the rearview mirror didn’t go unnoticed.

“could this day get any more embarrassing?” C asked as they crossed their arms over their chest, staring determinedly out the window.

“uh huh,” you mumbled, still in a daze from what just happened.

“that was my first kiss, you know,” C muttered.

you turned to them, still not registering their words. “you’re so gorgeous.”

C scowled, their blush deepening. “shut up, you dolt. you’re not even listening to me.”

but when their hand crept over to cover yours, you couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across your face.

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[valalice]

hear me out… combat training with rival!caitlyn where she gets all mad n frowny when you shit talk her so she pins you down on the mat. i’ve been thinking about this for WEEKS.

this is what i'm talking about !

you should've known better really, shit talking caitlyn kiramman of all people. but she makes it hard to somewhat tolerate her to a certain degree when she parades around like she owns the fucking place, her lean figure pin straight (perfect posture of course, nothing less expected of a kiramman), head held high (cassandra made it a point to instill the objective into young caitlyn's mind that you never let people persevere you as weak), and a cocky smirk that for some reason stays glued to her face at all times. she had every reason to be cocky—full of her self when she's the best at everything, everyone is either intimidated by her or adores her, and no there is no in between. you feel neither towards her, having the same prideful air about you, and there's no way in hell you'd ever adore her, you hate her, but again, hate does no lie between intimidated and adoration, it's the rotten third, born from pure animosity you have for her. it's something sacred really what you and her have, something so foolish, childish about your rivalry, but still serious in its own way.

you should've known your words would've been whispered right back into the ear of the heiress, too deep in the pits of blinded hatred to realize that kiramman has ears everywhere. and you know she knows when the next time the two of you cross paths her stare is more daggered than usual, and if your words hadn't sent the blue haired beauty into a frenzy, the laugh in her face upon seeing her had lit the spark, setting her ablaze.

you should've know caitlyn would come marching up to you like the prissy person she is and demand a combat match immediately, rolling your eyes at her temper and the shrill in her accent, she annoys you immensely by thinking she can get anything at her beck and call.

"can't you see i'm eating, kiramman?"

"i do. and i don't care. you talk shit, you're going to back it up."

"you're really looking to get another ass beating already?"

your words stung like a fist full of salt in a wound. the last match you two had, you won by a sliver, a tiny one, but you took the victory nonetheless. and it sends a tingly sensation down your spine, to the tips of your fingers, and then your toes to see the ever so barely noticeable twitch in her eye. but, of course you notice, you love seeing how you're able to get under her skin.

you should've known better than to accept that damn match, because now caitlyn has you pinned on the mat, struggling to think quick and reach for her weak spots to get you out of this position. you hate it, you hate her. but more importantly you hate how quickly she was able to pin you down, the swiftness and pure skill and talent (you'd never mutter these words out loud, even with a gun to your head) it took for her to pull off that move. it's all that damn excessive training with ambessa, you'd wander pass this very room time and time again heading the hits and grunts, caitlyn always overworked herself to the bone until she was able to get something right, and do it better. and you hate that when you opened your eyes from being slammed against the barely soft surface you were met up and close with gleaming cerulean eyes and that fucking smirk; it was in the moment you realized how close the two of you were, you always get this close but you're always too caught up with your motive of defeating her that you never took into account the compromising positions you'd put each other in.

"am i supposed to be getting my ass beat right now?"

should've spit in her face, but instead you're too stunned, focused on the knee slotted between your legs, pressing up against your pulsing heat. too focused on the wispy blue hairs fallen from her bun and how the usual sweat trickling down her eyebrow isn't there; she didn't even break a sweat. it takes a lot of restraint in you to not squirm beneath her, you won't give the satisfaction of seeing that (no matter how badly you want to sooth ache she's caused), you'll figure away out of this, eyes darting around to find anything's she any opening to free yourself or flip over, but you're too slow;

one.

two.

three.

the grip on you lessens when she's done counting, un-slotting her knee, and standing to her feet, gaze raking over your unmoved body, eyes swirling with gloat.

"i won."

and with that she walks out the room, no outstretched of a hand to help you off the matt, leaving you to lie there. she plays dirty.

you hate caitlyn kiramman.

[ohmy-gojo]

geto suguru falling for an underclassman reader ෆ (no curse au) pt.1

it was a new year— geto was already on his 2nd year at jujutsu high with the same two friends, not that he really cared about making friends. satoru just appeared one day and called him his 'best friend' and shoko tagged along. it was actually a quite comical group he thinks; a rich kid, a chain smoker and a boy who just wanted to die. but he supposes they were also popular around the campus (though he doesnt understand why)

he was casually strolling near the pond in front of the campus during break (actually hiding from gojo bc a new episode of digimon aired and he really doesnt want to hear his rants) when he saw a trail of... chips? leading near the back of the campus

his first thought was 'this is too weird imma dip' but alas curiosity got him and he decided to follow the trail of.. chips. who knows if thats how they lure people and kidnap them nowadays? if so hes sure people like satoru would surely fall for the trap (he thinks as he himself follows the said trap)

after reaching the end of the trail, he was surprised to face a young girl instead of an old beefy hitman. this was his supposed kidnapper? she was pretty cute so he wouldnt really mind he guesses. but the girl actually looked equally surprised to see him. the two stared at each other and owlishly blinked.

"um.. what are you doing.. here? if i may ask." geto broke the silence

"oh uh i am waiting?" she spoke softly and didnt elaborate further

'maybe for a friend?' geto thought and didnt ask for more details. though the reason he was even here— "do you know who placed these chips in the grou–"

before he could even finish his sentence, the girl pulled him and hid behind the concrete plankets. okay, this girl was nuts

"i was the one who placed the chips," she whisper-answered. "for him" she gestured to their front. geto followed her gaze and saw a.. puppy? he raised his brows at that, if she wanted to feed the puppy why not just give it that directly instead of doing whatever the hell that was.

she probably understood what he was thinking and finally told him, "that little guy was actually trapped in one of the slabs. i tried helping him but he was probably afraid so i decided to lure him with these chips and into safety."

oh, he thinks. that makes sense. they both then sat in silence watching the puppy eat the chips. it was a comfortable silence though. this is not a bad day, he muses. the nice weather, watching an adorable puppy eating chips with a cute girl sitting beside him.

after some time, the puppy left and he realized they were still holding hands from earlier when she pulled him. she let go of his hand after realizing herself and blushed lightly (he was a little disappointed).

"what you did was kind." he smiled at her.

"oh its nothing. i felt bad for him and i dont even like chips that much."

geto laughed at her reasoning. he was getting enamored by her weird charm and awkward mannerisms. they were starting to walk back inside their campus. "well.. whats your name?"

"i am (name)," she bowed her head lightly "please take care of me."

"of course, nice to meet you. i am geto." he smiled. "are you a 1st year?"

"yes i am. are you one as well?"

"no," he shaked his head. "i am a 2nd year."

"oh!" she suddenly stopped. "youre a senpai!"

he laughed at her matter of fact tone and nodded his head. this girl was actually weird but in a.. cute way.

before he could ask more about her, his white haired friend appeared and he just sighed heavily

"suguru??? what are you doing?" he looked at (name) and gasped "do you have a secret girlfriend? oh my god! shoko!"

"lord help me," he sighed again. he looked at the girl with him and saw her blushing and looking bewildered. as much as he found her blushing face adorable he decided to help her

"this is not my girlfriend you doofus," he slapped gojos back of head. "shes an underclassman, be nice to her."

"ohhhh?? shes a kouhai?" he gasped once again. "i always wanted one!"

geto deadpanned at that. look at this weirdo talking about the girl like shes some shiny rock. he was starting too feel weirdly possessive over her. after all he was the one who found her first so she should be his kouhai only, it's only natural.

with gojo blabbering about himself to her and her politely nodding at his words, they made their way to their classes. geto wanted to ask her about herself but found himself being cut off by gojo everytime. he was starting to get pissed but then saw (name) smiling reassuringly at her which made him calm down a little (he was almost pouting). then she had to leave for her class and waved at them bye. 'oh well,' he thought while waving back. he could try to meet her after school maybe? but this time without that blue eyed freak he huffed.

[soul-collectors]

SOUL Collectors 101 - #1 : Anomaly SOULs

Presented by Edu! a Science!Sans variant specializing in studying these anomalies!

-What are Anomaly SOULs?

Put it simply; They’re SOULs affected by a timeline glitch that gives the concealed human SOULs shape and matter, virtually reviving them!

it usually happens after an “ending” has registered into the timeline Where the SOULs are supposed to just- disappear.

Every time the file save of that timeline is loaded or reset without properly handling the Anomaly SOULs, they’re reformed.

-Stages of reformation

Beginning with a simplified Vistage, they eventually develop to a more accurate shape of the departed human, even recovering their memories at a certain point- until uhm...I haven’t gotten enough data to know haha..!

Their memories may develop in different ways with each reset! Some might only remember their fall and some might recall everything to their last breath..oof...

Anomaly Souls cannot be absorbed nor shattered! They simply “refuse” to. Literally.

Only SOUL Collectors can properly contain Anomaly SOULs. Other methods have been used, but they usually yield less favorable results. We’re still discovering more about them, though!

If a SOUL Collector frees an Anomaly SOUL after containing them, it usually takes from a few hours to days or even weeks for their Vistage to reform depending on what phase they were collected in.

-How do you tell the difference?

You can’t- at least not your normal, everyday person. By themself, SOUL Anomalies look almost indistinguishable from a normal SOUL. You won’t know unless you try shattering or absorbing it-!

Some Monsters and humans from other universes have trained themselves to tell the difference! And some are just “born” to it- like SOUL Collectors-!

-Are they dangerous?

ehhh…Not really- I mean Yes!! *some* are! But for the first few phases that ARE harmless, down the line, they may pose a threat to the timeline and its inhabitants, especially if agitated…

-Monsters affected by Anomaly SOULs.

If an Anomaly SOUL attacks and kills a monster and the save file is loaded/reset, the Monster will return somewhat physically similar to an amalgamate.

Their SOUL reforms their body in the same way as a SOUL Anomaly’s “but it refused” mentality.

Except- unlike a human’s, the Monster’s SOUL isn’t capable of properly reforming itself…thus they come out...misshapen.

I haven’t seen many cases, thankfully. But, from the data I collected from SOUL collectors themselves; this is one of the main reasons they collect anomaly SOULs: to protect the inhabitants of timelines and the multiverse from collapsing into itself in chaos.

That's probably the gist of it- We're still researching Anomaly SOULs especially Whenever Soul visits this timeline-

.

[This is just the basic info about Anomaly SOULs, More information and examples will be posted throughout the account/story!]

[paperclipninja]

I will also die on this hill. Whether we actually get the third flashback, nothing will ever convince me there isn't supposed to be one.

It's the only time we had a flashback to the same period twice and more than that, the second flashback was an immediate continuation of the season 1 one. And I did remember that I had an unhinged ramble about it here just after season 2, but tldr: it's its own self contained story within the bigger story and so far we have the beginning and the middle. And we know that every story needs an end! (And they 100% had an almost moment or more, I'm certain of it).

Hey chat, why do we think we'll get a third part of the 1941 flashback in s3?

I'd be absolutely on board with it (it's my favourite flashback), but is there a particular theory or headcanon behind it? I've seen a lot of posts referring to it, but I couldn't find anything specific and I'm very curious.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bad mood. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: bad moods were holding you all, then you found this place

Warnings:  a bit of angst, but they finally make up, Ellie shows up, some swearing, guns, they're pretty mean to each other

A/N: This was requested by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you sweetie. I hope you enjoy it. it's short and boring!❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was a difficult time for Joel. 

It all started with the worsening weather - the cold and rain were becoming more and more difficult and made you have to walk on roads that were drowning in mud and puddles. One day Ellie declared that even her underwear was wet and she was tired of this shitty march towards Jackson. 

The shelter you found was of little use and you couldn't stay there for long for fear of riders or other intruders. Then something started happening to you. Joel noticed it immediately. You became quieter, and every time he pointed something out to you ended with a sarcastic comment or an angry look from you.

"Jesus, what's gotten into you..." Joel muttered once, irritated, and at his next remark you just shrugged your shoulders, mumbling something like "Whatever."

Your food supplies were dwindling, and the accommodations didn't allow you to rest. And that fucking weather. Joel knew exactly what was causing the bad moods. And he himself was becoming more grumpy and quiet.

When some buildings appeared on the horizon, you were already so tired that you didn't care anymore - you wanted to get there, hide and catch some sleep.

"It must have been a warehouse of nearby farms." Joel muttered, approaching the metal door.

"Do you think we'll find something to eat there?" Ellie asked hopefully.

Joel shrugged, he didn't want to tell her that he was counting on it too. He readied his weapon, and you did the same, Ellie was supposed to guard the entrance. There was a long, dark corridor in front of you. You both entered and your footsteps echoed quietly inside. 

Soon it got dark and you turned on your flashlights to illuminate the place. Every now and then you passed a door, which you pushed gently, but it was closed.

"Shit." you hissed again, and Joel felt his irritation reaching its limit.

“Stop following me.” he finally muttered, even though he knew it was pointless, he kept repeating that you should stick together "You're going to give me a heart attack."

“Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?” you snorted ironically.

You couldn’t see his face well, but you were sure Joel rolled his eyes. He had been annoying you so much lately, that you wanted to get away from him for a moment. With relief, you noticed a corridor leading off to the right.

“I’m going this way.” you declared.

“We should stick together.” he hissed.

“You just told me to fuck off.” you said angrily. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Whatever.”

Fuck. He watched as your flashlight flickered and you moved further and further away from him. If you survived this night and didn’t kill each other, or someone didn’t kill you, Joel would consider it a success.

The corridor continued for some time until he finally stopped in a large room. Overturned shelves, remnants of warehouse equipment, but silence reigned everywhere. On the other side he noticed another door, this time with a sign indicating the cafeteria. 

He was about to grab the door handle when he heard a strange noise from the other side. He put his working ear to the door and began to listen. A strange shuffling, something he couldn't identify. If those were clickers, then you were screwed. He didn't know where you were or if he would be able to find you fast enough.

Something slammed into the door, and then again. Joel adjusted his fingers on the rifle. He could take care of this quickly. If it was one or two clickers... Yeah, he should be able to handle it.

He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, something fell out from behind it, and Joel aimed the barrel and...

You stared at him, and he saw surprise and fear in your eyes. He felt like something had cut off his power and his knees buckled.

"Fuck!" he groaned "I could have killed you!"

"After the last few days, I wouldn't be surprised." you replied, but you didn't sound too sure "I managed to get into this room, I wanted to get out and..."

Joel nodded, trying to calm his faster heartbeat. Then you lifted something you were holding in your hand. "Look what I found! It's not much, a few cans, but it's still something. I think it's some kind of soup, but I also saw risotto and some stew. Ellie will be happy."

You weren't wrong. As soon as you arranged your stay in one of the rooms, you started heating up what you found. 

When the warm meal filled your stomachs, you immediately felt better. Ellie quickly regained her good mood. Eventually, however, she started yawning. She squeezed herself into the sleeping bag somehow, mumbled a quiet "Night!" and soon you heard her soft breathing.

You took a few sips of tea and adjusted the blanket that was thrown over your shoulders. Joel was sitting against the wall. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest, you could see that he was slowly dozing off.

"You should get some sleep." You said quietly, he opened his eyelids lazily "I'll take the first watch."

"No need." he replied, but then yawned.

You chuckled. "Do you want to keep arguing?" he shook his head and reached for the blanket.

He finally laid down. "Sorry I tried to kill you. I thought it was infected."

You looked at him with a smile "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

He smiled and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that."

"Joel?" he looked at you once more, your face wasn't as tense anymore, you seemed more relaxed "I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

"It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

You both laughed quietly. The rain was pattering slower and slower on the roof and soon Joel's quiet snoring informed you that he had fallen asleep too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven

[eris-snow]

10. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff

A lead after lead, questions that lead to more questions. See the unseen, find what has been lost. If you search for memories, what must you then see?

28 February

“Kacchan, you’re unfocused.” Izuku frowns, One For All crackling with energy. The green-haired’s face is scrunched up with concern, and Katsuki has to physically tell himself to remain still at that.

How do you tell someone what the issue is when they’re just going to forget it anyway?

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

Yeah, no freaking duh, thanks a lot, Saito, that explains a crap ton.

That evening home with you was one of the quietest he’s seen you. So quiet, he has to focus to remember you’re side.

When he concentrates, however, there’s the faint yellow skein he found winding across the library that started this all.

It coils around you and leads the both of you back to U.A, nothing more specific, nothing less.

Some help it was, he thinks bitterly.

If everybody forgets, nobody remembers.

You’d said yourself, and you were right. Nobody remembers you, he’s the only one who notices you, and you have less than a year left to go.

He’s all you got.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice breaks him out of his trance, and Katsuki straightens his body and winds up his arm again, sweat pooling in his palms.

“I’m fine, nerd. Don’t worry about it.”

1 March

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

It takes Katsuki little time to find out what the latter part means.

“My memories” He pointed out. “They’re still gone.”

Saito got his immediately after his dead best friend told him the truth, while Katsuki still didn’t have a clue about how you met from his own perspective.

“Any idea on the former?” You ask, swinging your legs back and forth with your hands perched on the piano seat at your sides. It’s as if you’re completely unbothered by being on death’s door, when Katsuki knows it’s the complete opposite. He snorts.

“You should know better about this than me. You’re the one with memories.”

You’re the one under this curse.

Katsuki watches you think pensively for a few moments, before you shake your head. “Can’t think of any. Unless you mean our professor’s words of ‘reading between the lines’ for all our scores.”

“Professor?”

“We went for piano lessons together, remember? We were under the same teacher. He’s the one who got us to start dueting our pieces.”

Yeah, this phenomenon seems pretty clear about its attachment to just the Target and the Saviour, Katsuki thinks dismissively. The both of you will have to figure it out in due time.

He looks at your face, and realises you have that expression again. The one you have every time you’re swimming with happy memories encapsulating your perfect past, before the phenomenon, before 14. It makes part of his heart ache (no it doesn’t, you shut up), because it means that somewhere in there, he’s supposed to be there, too.

He’s supposed to know.

He’s supposed to remember.

But he doesn’t.

“Tell me about your childhood,” He blurts impulsively. You give him an amused look, as if he’d just shitted sprinkles.

“I mean, us.” He corrects with caution. “You think about it all the time, but you never tell me about it.”

You give him a wry smile, and your voice is a breath of fresh air as you heed his words.

“It’s silly because it’s all so mundane. Those assignments we used to group up on, the bentos you shared with me and the songs we played, all of it. It was a lightning in a bottle window of my life that I didn’t appreciate until it was all gone.”

You don’t stop. He doesn’t ask you to stop. In fact, the more he listens, the better picture he gets of the two of you.

Pieces in his mind are reshuffling, reforming, breaking down and building up every time he interacts with you because there’s always so much he doesn’t know.

You and him, skipping stones and seeing who could get it to go the furthest, because unlike stupid Deku at that time, you were a worthy opponent. You would wind your hand up and throw, trade techniques with each other like it was forbidden blueprints. Always aiming for something better, always trying to outplay each other.

You and him, sitting on the rickety piano outside a mall in its prime. Smiles and laughs but also brows knit in concentration because both of you were dead set on playing the pieces perfectly. Every note, every timing, every beat.

You and him, sitting on the rooftops and him sharing half his bento to you, because you know he’d always have a portion for you. Under the sunshine, just as warm and bright as your smile.

Now that the photograph has been taken, albeit over years back, he must admit.

It is a pretty picture.

—

7th March

Maybe it’s the phenomenon, but if Katsuki was being brutally honest, you’re one of the dullest people he’s ever met.

The things you talk about are mundane, simple, as if the war never happened, as if villains were the least of your concerns.

They probably were. A question you couldn’t solve, your considerations for new cacti (he needs to make a mental note to give you the one he got awhile back.), if he looks at you, squints at you, you’d be his definition of an extra.

However, now he finds that it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“You’re terrible at making small talk,” He tells you midway through his essay, not even pausing to look up.

You grow quiet, and almost shrink into yourself. Well, fuck him too, honestly, if he didn’t want you to talk then you won’t—

“Why’d you stop?” Katsuki glances up, eyes meeting yours.

You shoot him a glare, and he shrugs. “I didn’t say it was bad, idiot. Continue.”

“You probably have bigger problems than my stupid—”

“You were talking about shitstain that forgot your order at Mc Donalds the other day. I’m listening, L/n.” He scoffs, turning back to his paper. “And yeah, you have every right to be angry. I’d be too.”

Sometimes, you wonder why you even liked him in the first place.

And it’s times like this that make you question why you wonder that at all.

—

17th March

Katsuki squints at the yellow skein, flicking it as he watches it coil around the corner of his class door and wind to outside of the hallway

“Oh, and one more thing. That yellow thread you mentioned? It’s a guide, so follow it.”

“Mine was blue, but that isn’t the point. It led me too.”

Yeah, some advice that was. All it did was lead them back into the hall, where you always were. “I get it,” He growls, coiling the string around his finger and tugging. “It involves Y/n to break the phenomenon she’s under. Brilliant insight, just brilliant.”

The string, obviously but infuriatingly, does not respond.

A jacket, a cherry blossom tree, and pianos.

Those were his hallucinations, and those were their best leads.

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

Find his memories, and see…something. Could it get any more cliche?

The bell rings, and he stands up quickly and escapes from the back door before anybody can intercept him. He’d managed to snag the keys to the storage unit the old hag keeps all his old things. Not sentimental his ass, that woman can deny it all she wants, but she’s a hoarder when it comes to clothes.

Especially Katsuki’s.

You’re already waiting by the gate when he arrives, and you flash him a smile and a wave.

He smirks back, already striding out of the gate. He dangles the keys from between his fingers, watching your expression shift to determination with a touch of hopefulness. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath and reply. “I am.”

“Let’s find that jacket.”

244 Days Until Death.

-----

Taglist:

@genderfluid-anime-goth

[cr4yolaas]

WHIPLASH — DISTRACTOR

she loves journalism, she tells herself for the umpteenth time this week to cope with the immense overload. there's nothing about this industry that she could possibly hate. not at all. totally not.

003. look back / masterlist / 005. clueless

At 5 PM every day, just when she's about to leave the office for the day, she gets an overwhelming rush of energy. Not the good kind.

Her spine creaks and aches from constant attempts to keep her posture upright while reading email upon email upon email, the lines scrolling past as she orders them all neatly in her head — a waste of her time, something to keep note of later on, and the urgent stuff. It's routine. The click, click, click of her foot on the ground is almost in time with the clock at the front of the room, and she can feel each fiber and strand of fabric that prods at her skin. Her desk is the same every time, featuring a poor, worn-down notepad with barely legible notes and papers passed down to her through the journalistic hierarchy (however, most of them are from her editor-in-chief), and she can't be bothered to fix it because it's the only way she can find anything.

She adjusts her top, just as she has been every ten or so minutes. Another one gifted from Nobara, with the remark that she'd "sway all of her editors' hearts." And while it did prove to be true, she can't say she enjoys it. All the same, she knows it's the only way to survive in the industry.

It's systematic. Her fingers click and clack away at her keys while she goes over another writer's work — a new one that just transferred from the Lifestyles department into Sports, with the argument that he'd "find more opportunities here."

It's sloppy. He can't tell the difference between their, they're, and there. There's a significant lack of Oxford commas everywhere she looks. And on top of that, the tone reeks of bias, namely towards the volleyball player he's supposed to be neutral about.

She straightens up again before angrily typing in her edits. Add a comma here. Simplify this — no points are being made here. Elaborate? Reword this. By the end of it all, his page is littered with highlights and comments, likely a new record for her.

It's all too much.

There's a ticking in her head that, by whatever force of nature, powers over the sound of her fingertips slamming into the keys, and a ringing in her ears that lies beneath it. Her eyes burn with every second she spends staring at her screen. The hairs on her head — neatly done, to please the "office worker image" that her editors seem to love — feel as if they're falling out of her scalp by the minute. Every sensation washes over her. It's exhausting.

She looks up at the clock. One, two, three more seconds pass, and when the hands switch to the neatly printed 6, she almost jumps out of her seat, her documents haphazardly stacked and stored away into her drawers and her laptop falling shut. Every extra moment spent only allows the rot in her head to fester. Before she can process her actions, her bag (the new Samo Ondoh one she picked up last week, after much deliberation) finds its way to her shoulder and her feet are firmly planted in the elevator.

After five seconds, she heaves out a long, heavy breath.

Her head thumps softly against the metal wall behind her. It’s a gentle noise. She watches the numbers count down until the lobby, the doors opening slowly. Almost too slowly.

She loves her job. She really, really does. It's what she tells herself as she rushes out the main doors, and it's what she'll continue to tell herself until the end of it all.

★ there’s supposed to be another msg from yn before the “left my keys @ work” text </3 i’ll leave u guys to fill in the blank with ur imagination

★ sorry not sorry for pushing the cr4yolaas workaholic yn agenda …

★ maki loves zelle she refuses to use paypal or apple pay or anything else

★ it’s her beige flag i fear

★ also the last time she tried to drive yuta’s car was right after she got her (much delayed) license … n she almost totaled it completely </3

★ she’s a wonderfully intelligent woman in stem but u do NOT want her as ur designated driver

★ nobara begs to use maki’s digicam every time they go out like a little kid asking to play games on their parent’s phone

★ 50% of the time it’s a yes

★ yn’s EIC is heavily inspired by mine from 2 yrs ago 😙 i dislike her so bad she acc made me quit LOL

★ yuuji and yn’s dynamic is like best friends since diapers but they’ve known each other for 6 months max

★ they met thru toge and toge gets a little jealous of their dynamic #enviousking

★ “were u there when she shat her pants on the way home from elementary school? didn’t think so”

TAGLIST: @kameyyy @s777athv @solecitoszn @1l-ynn @valvoria @standcom @kissunday @hqnge @applepi25 @fushiguruuzzzz @reveurdoll @anotherwriternamedclara @sh0ot1ngst4r @starrysho @lizbix @diearama @cherryredribbons @asuritam @tiramizuloz @saltypuffin1040 @burnishingbagels @beepbopzlorp @reezerdotcom @tibibibi123 @carneries @gumims @chososcamgirl @anngelllla @fefesooli @vrxouei @s3ns4ti0n4l @lucentwings @sentifua @in-the-marina-trench @k4ss11333

[rubywillkins]

Lando Norris| you belong to me

Pairing | lando norris × female reader

SUMMARY: Recently, you and Lando came out as a couple. Franco Colapinto got to know you, too, from the news, and he started to like you. Upon learning this, Lando tried to make him jealous.

Lando Norris

❤️ 1.6M 🗨️17.4k  ➢4,987

liked by yourusername and others

landonorris can't help falling in love with you

Comments

f1wags omg! we got a new wag hereeeee!!!

Ln4ig she is a true beauty but I am so jealous.

formulanews guys, she is nice but why tf Franco follow her? do they know each other or it's just Franco being Franco

user125 franco u womanizer

landogirl idk why people can't accept the fact that people can be friends too. Maybe Franco and her are just friends. And this post is supposed to be about Lando and y/n and not about Franco following y/n.

          ⤷thisisf1baby is true but y/n does not follow back Franco. And we all know that Franco has a jolly nature so maybe some of us suspect that.

After about a year of dating me and Lando decided to reveal our small little secret.

And after that, my phone just blew up. out of all the notifications, 1 got my eyes "Babe I think your friend just started following me should I follow back" I decided to ask this to Lando because I never met Franco in person so it was just weird." Nah who followed you?" "franco! you never told me u guys were close" you said. "I never told you because we are not that close. I mean we met a few times on track but we are just colleagues" Lando said a bit irritated. U decided to not follow him back.

This evening you guys have to go to a party related to f1. You decided to wear a tight halter neck ruffle dress with a slit cut right around your thigh. The dress embraces your curves in the right places. Gosh, u were looking beautiful. 

Everyone was mesmerized by your beauty. Especially two people in the event. Your boyfriend and Franco. Lando was head over heels for you and so was Franco and Lando can sense that. Boy instinct . he noticed Franco's eyes taking a glimpse of you  every now and then. He knows franco was checking you out. 

Lando took you to franco with him. "hi mate! how its going" he said while having his hand tightly grabbing your waist. you know what he was doing and you obviously were loving it. you and Lando can clearly see jealousy in franco's eyes. " nice man! your gf is truly beautiful." 

"I know right" Lando said.

after some time you guys decided to leave. your feet were hurting because of the heels so Lando decided to hold you bridal style in front of everyone until the car.

it was silent ride to the hotel with his hand not leaving your exposed thigh.

he wasted no time and he just grab you by the waist and you cant even process when you landed in hotel bedroom from your car seat.

he was kissing you. but the kiss was not slow and soft. it was deep and rough. clearly depicting he was in the mood. while kissing he stripped you both. he was giving you rough hickies from your jaw to chest. and chest to stomach while pinching and massaging your breasts. your nipples were as erect as his lil Lando. and he was loving the sight. you were a moaning mess. he slowly moves from your chest to your right breast while kneading your left breast . his one hand was groping your right breast which he was sucking definitely not like a baby. he than moves to your left breast doing same what he did to your right one except his right hand was not on your breast now. from his right hand he starts to circle and massage your clit which was making very very impatient. " Lando baby just put it in" " it? it? you're calling my dick it! you have to wait now" he starts to finger you.in and out. in and out. it was rough but it was so good u were on cloud nine to be honest u were loving it. and when u were just about to cum he put it in. inside of you. you were just surprised but it just felt soo fucking good. he starts to pound in....with his last stroke he said " you are mine.. only mine " after that hugs you. you cant believe that seconds ago he was like a beast pounding in and out you and now he is the same guy who is acting like a baby now... with a small laugh you said "yes i only yours baby I only belong to you" "btw how was it?" you were just so shy to say anything so you just hugged him back tightly.

it was good really good u were moaning so loud that the person who was just beside your room can clearly listen you while burning in jealousyyyy!

F1insider 

two guys were seen fighting in a recent event. most of the f1 drivers were there and people are suspecting that its lando and franco.do you guys think its true? 

we are good at taking sneek peeks lol.

[hueningstar]

Beneath the Thorny Vines

Summary : You and Yeonjun go from bickering rivals to sharing charged, intimate moments during a late-night study session, where unspoken tension turns into undeniable attraction.

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A/N : Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions. Your support means the world ! <3 Alsoo,requests are open🙃 And about my 2 reqs that I got..school is starting and I really need to do my hw and study but I promise that in a few days you WILL get them☺️

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Pairing : Yeonjun × reader

Genre : Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, College AU

Warnings : nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it)

MDNI

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The first time you met Choi Yeonjun, he was leaning casually against the doorframe of your lecture hall, a smug smirk plastered on his face like he owned the place. And maybe he did, judging by the way everyone’s eyes flitted to him as though he were a magnet pulling their attention.

You hated him instantly.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “Looks like you’re in my spot.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked up from your notebook. The lecture hall wasn’t even half full, yet he had the audacity to claim ownership of the seat you’d chosen near the window.

“I don’t see your name on it.” you shot back, folding your arms.

Instead of being deterred, he chuckled—a sound that irritated you more than it should have. “Well, I usually sit here. But if you want to fight about it, we can flip a coin.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your things and moved a few seats down, muttering under your breath about entitlement. You thought that would be the end of it, just another annoying encounter in a sea of college chaos.

You were wrong.

From that day forward, Yeonjun seemed to make it his mission to get under your skin. Whether it was cutting you off in class discussions, conveniently signing up for the same group projects, or flashing that infuriating grin every time he passed you in the halls, he was always there.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” you snapped one afternoon after he’d turned in another half-hearted attempt at a group project. You’d spent hours perfecting your section, only for him to barely skim the surface of his.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Relax, it’s not like it’s the final grade. Besides, I figured you’d overachieve enough for the both of us.”

Your jaw clenched. “Unbelievable.”

“You say that a lot,” he teased, his voice light. “I’m starting to think you actually enjoy arguing with me.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

As the semester dragged on, your interactions with Yeonjun became a strange routine. He’d rile you up, you’d bite back, and somewhere in between the tension, there were moments where his charm almost—almost—made you forget how infuriating he was.

Like the time he caught you struggling to carry a stack of library books and, without a word, took half of them from your arms.

“Don’t get used to this,” he said, smirking as he walked beside you.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you replied, though your tone lacked its usual bite.

Or the time he stayed behind after class to help you clean up spilled coffee, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a paper towel. For a split second, you saw something softer in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

The turning point came during a campus fundraiser. You’d been assigned to work the same booth as Yeonjun—selling homemade baked goods to raise money for the art department.

“Try not to scare off the customers.” you said, eyeing him as he lounged lazily behind the table.

“And miss out on the chance to charm everyone who walks by?” He grinned, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

“You’re supposed to sell those, not eat them.” you scolded, swatting at his hand.

“What, you think people won’t buy them if one’s missing? Watch and learn.”

To your surprise (and mild annoyance), Yeonjun’s charm worked wonders. Within an hour, he’d managed to sell more cookies than you thought possible, effortlessly chatting up every passerby.

“See? I’m not completely useless,” he said, leaning closer with a playful glint in his eyes.

You hated the way your heart skipped a beat.

As the weeks turned into months, the sharp edges of your rivalry began to blur. You still bickered—some things never changed—but there was a new undercurrent to your interactions, a warmth that neither of you acknowledged but both felt.

One evening, as you sat alone, frantically typing away at an essay due the next day, Yeonjun appeared out of nowhere and slid into the seat across from you.

“Need help?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically genuine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why would you offer to help me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I don’t hate you as much as you think.”

For the first time, you allowed yourself to smile back.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t hate him as much as you thought, either.

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with that ever-present smirk. For once, though, it didn’t feel condescending—it felt… softer.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh, sliding your laptop toward him. “But if you mess this up, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal.” He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing forearms that were unfairly distracting. Settling in, he scanned the notes on your screen, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You tried to focus on anything but him: the sound of the clock ticking, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the scratch of your pen on paper. But your eyes kept drifting back to Yeonjun, to the way his lips pressed together as he read, to the faint strand of hair falling into his face.

“Your formatting’s all wrong,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

He grinned, tapping at your keyboard. “Relax, I fixed it. See?”

You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you followed his gesture. He smelled faintly of something clean and woodsy, and you were suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were.

“Uh, thanks.” you mumbled, your voice quieter than intended.

“Don’t mention it.” he replied, but his tone had shifted, too. When you glanced up, you found him looking at you—really looking.

The smirk was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made the air between you feel heavier.

“Why do you do that?” you asked softly, your heart pounding.

“Do what?” His voice was just as quiet, his gaze locked on yours.

“Act like you don’t care about anything.”

He tilted his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him. “And why do you act like you care about everything?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could think of something, Yeonjun leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Maybe we’re not so different, after all.”

The tension crackled like static electricity. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed yours, lingering for a moment too long. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, as if he were testing the waters.

“Yeonjun…” you started, your voice wavering.

“Shh,” he murmured, a teasing edge returning to his tone. “I’m just helping you with your essay, remember?”

But the way his hand lingered on yours said otherwise.

As Yeonjun's fingers intertwined with yours, he slowly pulled you closer. His other hand reached up to cup your face gently, tilting it up to meet his gaze. He looked at your lips, then back into your eyes, asking a silent question.

His thumb caressed your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. "You're so..." he murmured, seemingly at a loss for words. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something deeper. "...annoying. And frustrating. And..."

He paused, his forehead resting against yours now. "And so infuriatingly kissable." he finally whispered, his warm breath fanning across your face. His hand on your face tightened, pulling you into a gentle, tentative kiss. His lips were soft, questioning, almost unsure.

His kiss was gentle but demanding, contradictory in the best way. One hand remained on your face while the other moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip, you couldn't help but melt against him. "Mmm..."

A soft groan rumbled in his chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in. His kiss turned more urgent, more passionate. He explored your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste and feel of you. His hand on your back slid down to grip your hip, pressing you flush against him.

The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity, stealing your breath and your thoughts. When Yeonjun finally broke the kiss, you were both left panting, your hearts racing in sync. He rested his forehead against yours once more, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes dark with desire. A slow, almost lazy smirk spread across his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

Without warning, he lifted you up and placed you on the desk, pushing the books and papers to the side with a careless swipe of his arm. He stepped between your legs, forcing them apart to make room for him.

He leaned in to claim your lips again, more forceful this time. One hand slid up your thigh while the other tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. You could feel his growing hardness pressing against your center as he moved closer.

His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, exposing your lacy bra underneath. He paused, admiring the view, before hooking a finger under the strap and pulling it down, baring more skin.

"Fucking hell." he breathed against your neck, his lips and teeth tracing a path down to your collarbone. His hand snaked around to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before lowering his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it, eliciting a gasp from you. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

His mouth moved back to yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his hands made quick work of your pants and underwear, pushing them down your legs. He stepped back just enough to remove his own shirt, revealing his toned chest.

He reached for his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his zipper. You watched, mesmerized, as he pulled out his hard, throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, spreading pre-cum along the length before reaching for your legs and spreading them wider.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he growled, positioning himself at your entrance. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a heady mix of desire and affection. "And I'm not going to be gentle."

He thrust into you suddenly, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, feeling like you might be split in two as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped your legs around his waist, angling you for even deeper penetration. "You're so tight."

He hissed through gritted teeth, his arms trembling as he held you up. He pounded into you, over and over, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. You were screaming, but he muffled the sound with his mouth, kissing you brutally as he took you.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any harder or faster, he reached between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, sending sparks flying through your entire being. You came with a scream, your inner walls clamping down on his cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

He followed soon after, pulsing deep inside you with a fierce 'fuck' against your neck. His entire body shook as he emptied himself, then suddenly pulled out, spinning you around and bending you over the desk. His hand came down hard on your ass, making you jump.

He didn't give you a moment to catch your breath before slamming back into you, his hips cracking against your cheeks with each brutal thrust. You were crying now, your face buried in the papers on the desk as he used you like a fucking animal. His balls slapped against your thighs with each stroke.

He snatched a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he hissed in your ear, "This is what you needed, wasn't it?" His other hand found your clit again, pinching and rubbing mercilessly as he continued his relentless assault on your ass.

A shudder ran through your body as his dirty talk mixed with the brutal stimulation, pushing you swiftly towards another orgasm. Your fingers clenched the edges of the desk, knuckles white from gripping so tightly. "Yes!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate, "Fuck me harder!"

He snarled in response, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked you with all his might. The desk creaked and shook beneath you, papers flying everywhere. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling so hard it stung, but only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through you.

Just as your orgasm hit, he released your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your waist to lift and turn you to face him. Kneeling, his mouth found yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue claimed your mouth as thoroughly as his cock had claimed your pussy.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as he thrust up into you with increasing urgency. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal rhythm that drove him closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you and held you in place as his cock pulsed and spasmed, filling your pussy with his hot, thick cum. You could feel it overflowing, coating your inner thighs as he emptied himself completely inside you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Damn, you always make me forget everything else," he murmured contentedly. His hands roamed over your sides possessively. "I need to get back to work, though. Can you..."

He gently shifted you off him, watching as cum dripped from your still-sensitive pussy. "Dirty girl," he whispered appreciatively, pulling his tie to clean you up slightly. "Be a good girl and clean my desk while I'm gone. And maybe then I'll consider bending you over it again later."

You nodded obediently, still trembling from the intensity of your climax. He winked at you before striding out, leaving you sprawled naked on the couch, his cum leaking from you and a trail of papers scattered across the hardwood. Slowly, you pushed yourself up, glancing at the messy desk.

You spent the next hour meticulously cleaning his desk, organizing the scattered papers and dusting the surface. As you worked, you couldn't help but replay the intense encounter in your head, your body still tingling from his touch. Just as you finished, you heard the door open behind you.

He stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning the neatly organized desk. He looked at you, standing there naked and covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the cleaning, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Good girl." he murmured, locking the door behind him.

Moving swiftly towards you, he pinned you against the freshly cleaned desk, his strong hands gripping your hips. "I suppose only one thing is left to do now," he growled playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief and lust.

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[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 174 spoilers and thoughts that i'm actually kinda happy about but there's just a little bit more that i wish we got to see this ep but possibly maybe itll show up later,,, maybe,,, i hope,,, and more below the cut

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BEFORE WE BEGIN. WOW. HI ALICIA. WOW!!! WOW!!! SIRENS!!! HOLY BINGLE! GOOD MORNING YUOR HIGHNESS UR GORGEOUS. HELLO!!! WOW. YES. ANYTHING YOU SAY MA'AM. YES MY QUEEN OF COURSE ANYTHING YOU SAY

SHE'S GOT ABS AND MUSCLE SHE'S TONED AND HER LEGS R STRONG AND WOW. WOW GOOD MORNING HI. YES. THANK YOU KHS THANK YOU IM,,, WOW,,, I LOVE STRONG WOMEN,,, BEAUTIFUL!!!

ok back to the ep LMFAOO

it seems i kiiinda misunderstood what was happening last ep, everyone relevant to the railroad construction is in the time bubble it's just that javier isn't going up to the mountains with lloyd,,, i see!!!

"i wanna go to him and make sure he's safe" ooogh,,, oh javier,,, u love him sm,,,, ooohhhh

tbh at first i was like, a lil confused that javier didn't go up to check on lloyd esp since javier is so willing to do anything to protect lloyd. its clear too that he knows abt lloyd's heart freezing,,, though i suppose at the same time, javier trusts lloyd's word so much that when the noble says he'll be fine, javier accepts it as he always has,,, either way his desire to run to protect lloyd and his willingness to trust that lloyd will be okay are both very sweet,,, the mutual trust always makes me so happy,,,,,,, ohhh javier ilysm,,,,,,

i am glad then that alicia went up to go check on him and that javier is reassured by this!!! look at his smile ooohhh hehehee

i think choosing to have javier trust his queen instead of sowing conflict btwn the two is rlly nice, tho mostly bc i am biased bc i tend to prefer sweet reliability over infighting,,, he trusts her to take care of lloyd the way javier would take care of lloyd,,, (is this alillovier propaganda? perchance,,, /lh)

it makes so much sense that they'd be on the same wavelength n get along,,, two peas in a pod,,, powerful and clever and oh so loyal to the person that they've come to admire, respect, and love,,, the person that's saved them time and time again,,, heehee,,, truly the besties of all time!!! red and blue!!! i love it a lot!!!

and now for lloyd,,, hehe

i need it to be known that the moment i saw this panel, lloyd wearing alicia's sweater, i yelled and kicked and nearly cried. very loudly. what the hell. THATS SO?? THATS SO. IDEK

still forever thinking abt how javier is always the first one to his mind they truly r the duo ever,,, regardless of whether theyre platonic or romantic they're literally each other's number ones and the first ones they turn to im so. thats so. ghhh my heart,,, (ALSO HI ALICIA)

his stupid face,,, HIS PANELS THIS EP WERE SO SO FUNNY AND SO SO CUTE,,, i love u,,, HE JUST LOOKS SO SHOCKED AAAAHHH SO CUTE,,, wide-eyed and dumbfounded . lloyd i love u

the gags this ep were fucking amazing too HAHA i didnt add it above but the bit where alicia was like "lol next ur gonna tell me he's the demon king" and then just turns and oh hi theres demons LMFAOOO THAT WAS GOOD

AND THESE TOO SO SO SILLY i love when they're silly like this,,, goofy ass inchworm,,, its not helping u beat the bug allegations buddy,,, ily

LIKE THIS FUCKING GRABBING BIT I CACKLED SO FUCKING LOUD HAHAHAHAHAA AND LLOYD ROLLING AWAY GOD THEYRE SO FUNNY I LOVE THEM

and then she shared her mana w him,,, the little smile she gives and LLOYD BLUSHING BACK IM SO. THATS SO CUTE. HE LOOKS SO CUTE. THIS IS SO SWEET,,, AHHH,,, AAAHHHH CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE

though smth to note here, i am quite confused as to why javier's mana is suddenly rejected when he tries to absorb it? but alicia's works just fine? and javier has shared mana with lloyd before, my mutual reminded me of the namaran wall arc where siluria and javier both help lloyd with absorbing the hell knight,,, however the fact that javier's mana components have yet to break the law of causality during this arc, aka he wasnt a grandmaster yet. maybe bc of his status as a grandmaster now, where he has the same otherworldy mana lloyd does, that makes it not possible to properly absorb the mana?

alternatively, javier technically is never fated to die/be transformed in the original story, whereas lloyd should be dead and alicia should be tainted with dark magic, so bc the two of them have warped their fates at the moment, it works? and javier's doesnt bc he's technically not? idk if that makes any sense,,, i was told by my mutual that javier has shared mana with lloyd a lot in the novel before, so i'm not sure why they made this change! i hope they expand on it a lil in the future,,,

also, while i'm yapping here, i like that alicia is straightforward abt what she likes abt lloyd, but i wish they got to have a longer conversation than this,,, like this is a good start but it didn't really go anywhere (besides some really wonderful panels of lloyd but i mean like, narrative-wise lol)

as i mentioned in my last liveblog, alicia and suho share a lot more common experiences than they probably realize! and i think if they got a chance to talk about that, talking about their past circumstances, how they became who they are now, and just more in general on what led alicia to fall for lloyd besides what he's capable of,,, this ship would actually sail pretty well, yknow?

unfortunately though with the pacing of the manhwa and i guess just their episode length requirements in general, it makes sense that they couldn't get to that,,, i just wish it happened,,, maybe in snippets in future episodes? but seeing as we're getting pretty close to the end afaik, the chances are slim

i mainly love llovier but i also really love alilloyd, and i think alilloyd as a whole would have a much better leg to stand on if they actually talked about their experiences and had more instances of saving each other, of supporting each other, the way javier does with lloyd. it's too few and too far between for alicia and lloyd, so it feels like it's flatter than what it could be, y'know?

a part of me hopes that they did get to do that in the novel, but from what i recall hearing, alilloyd didn't have a strong leg in the novel either,,, i distantly recall someone telling me that the manhwa is actually doing alilloyd stronger justice than the novel did (i may be misremembering tho so don't quote me on that lol), and seeing as the manhwa's interpretation of alilloyd is so few and far between as is,,,, it makes me worried that the novel never actually got to touch upon how their relationship evolves (if im wrong, please correct me!!!)

i just want them to do well,,, they're super cute,,, please,,, ueueueue

anyway,,, this leads us to probably my FAVORITE panel of this week,,, this one of lloyd completely flushed EEE EHEHEHHEHEHEHHEE

SO SO SO SO CUTE. I YELPED WHEN I SAW THIS,,, I LOVE THAT ALICIA FALLS FIRST AND THEN LLOYD FALLS SO MUCH HARDER THAT'S FUCKING ADORABLE. methinks it's like that with javier too. lloyd falling and tripping up over realizing someone has romantic affection for him is probably one of my favorite things EVER. that's adorable. I LOVE HIM AAAHHH CUTE CUTE CUTE

one last thing to mention is just that,,, it seems like theres a mage messing w the weather conditions up in the mountains and i aaaam a lil worried that itll kickstart fate for alicia,,,, esp considering we,,, havent seen worthroad in a while. whatever that guys name was,,, what if its him and he's gonna fuck everything up!?? im really worried for them,,, please be okay,,,

and that's all for this week! i really REALLY enjoyed this episode,,, the panels and art were so so good, and while there were some things i wished would happen i think it was still really good overall, it gave me a lot to talk about! the gags were balanced and their interactions were so fun,,, yay!

i'll see yall next time,,, im so excited to see whats next,,,!!!!!