#I needed a break from something else and wanted to see if I could do a project quickly and I did!

[jupiterpiss]

Remmick x reader who is blind, she traces his face with her hands learning him in the only way she can. And Remmick nearly breaks. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that someone has touched him with love, not fear. It becomes their quiet ritual a language spoken only between their hands and silence.

AHHH AHHHH AHHH AHHH AHHH AHH.

Yeah. I screamed in my car while reading this ITS SO SWEET AHHHH SAVE ME SAVE ME.

Also I was gonna make something else for the 200 follower special but this is really nice, so here you go!! Thank you so so so so much for the support, I love all of you!!

Warnings: no smut. Hahahah. Uh.. terrible writing of an Irish accent, I watched a few YouTube videos of it but I’m literally SHIT at writing accents.. especially Irish or British like it’s sad. So.. sorry. Just really soft stuff.. mentions of teeth and claws but nothing crazy. I ain’t a Remmick apologist.. matter of fact I want him to suffer.. however, I do find this idea very interesting. Reader is nice to him for once that’s all I’m saying.Also they are blind. It says in the fucking ask so ur blind in this. Remmick is also lowkey ooc.. he’s never THIS nice.

He’s been showing up for months now. Before, when the silence was still loud and jarring, when the lingering of a cold body was still confusing, he would watch from outside. Didn’t say anything, didn’t approach, just watched.

Watched as you would trail through your home, eyes open but unfocused.

Easy prey. That’s what it was at first.

He didn’t feel the need to plan his attack, not like he had done in the past. A sweet accent, a few kind words.. he’ll have you under his thumb easily.

That couldn’t be further from what actually occurred.

You caught onto his bullshit easily. Didn’t allow him in at all despite how nice he sounded, or how kind he was, it was still a stranger at night. Someone who could easily cause danger to you, and you weren’t stupid. Maybe vulnerable, maybe, but not stupid.

So you kept him out, but that didn’t mean you were any less kind. He came under the front of needing some help with the area, that he didn’t quite know where he was.

“North Carolina,” that’s where he said he was from. Deep in there alone, but he had to travel out to see some family. But how he said it, how he explained his whole situation and dynamic with said family.. just felt wrong. Detached. His tone was more dead, like it was from a script. Just speaking to speak.

It scared you. So, you sent him on his way, told him exactly where everything would be based entirely on your own experience with the travel, from memory.

He later checked, after you had closed the door and went off to bed, he walked the same directions you gave. Everything was to the T, just as you said.

Hell.. he knew your town like the back of his hand from your directions alone.

So he watched you some more. How you just knew the home, knew where everything was, and if something was out of place you would simply go around it or fix it quickly. Not entirely phased, the world wasn’t going to accommodate for you, so you worked around it.

Even outside your home, though it was always late out and you weren’t exactly going far just a few feet, you would still trek around like you knew everything.

Like the roots, dirt, leaves, wind and trees were one with you. Things you’ve come to long understand and form mutual respect with. Like they lead and you only followed.

Eventually, he grew antsy with the space, with the distance that lied between the two of you. It became less of mindless stalking and more obsessive, more curious.

He found himself jealous of inanimate objects. Jealous of the fact they could feel the soft traces of your touch, the care you put into everything. How you feel everything to remember it, understand it.

He wanted to be remembered.

Understood.

So he would find a way in. Find a way to break that barrier and to get you to welcome him into your space. Into your life.

Found a way under your nails and beneath your touch. And he fucking thrived under it.

Thrived under how soft you were, how kind you were.

You touched him with so much emotion, so much energy. Fingers threading through hair, breath against his back as you would help him out of his jacket, or the edge of your nail as you lightly scratch shapes into his arms.

He found that you were just as curious as he was. Not just for who he is, but for what he was. He would tell whole stories about his past life, stringing in some from his current one— about how he once had a dog, or that he sucked the blood from a lamb once and it became a vampire. He would explain all of this while you trace your fingers along his claws, tapping the pointed ends of cold skin wrapped around solid bone.

You would eventually come to share your own stories, about anything and everything. Explain that no, blind people don’t magically have impeccable hearing just because they can’t see while your thumb would be tapping the edge of his fangs, other hand busy sliding against his golden chain.

His fangs were another thing, something he was certain would frighten you to death upon first feeling them. And they did, sorta. Of course, not to death, but enough to flinch before ripping your hand away.

“The fuck are those.”

He closes his mouth, quiet for only a second before muttering, “my teeth.”

Your nose twitches, face scrunching in confusion, “they always like that?”

“No., only when I want them to be.”

He slowly grabs back your hand, doesn’t guide it back towards his mouth but just holds it. He can’t go too long without your touch or he feels himself slowly dying

(He isn’t.. but he far too nervous and weird to really care whether he’s going to actually die or not. He thinks he is, and that’s all that matters.)

“Don’t gotta touch them if you don’t wanna, won’t hurt me.” It will, actually, if you don’t fully accept this bit of him. But he doesn’t add that.

You don’t say anything in return, don’t need to. Just slowly reach out your hand again, tap it against his face to get him to open up. Your nail lightly scratches against the sharp tip of one is his jagged teeth, the sound unsettling but not quite unwelcomed.

His teeth later become your most favourite thing to trace on him.

His whole face is, really.

Your fingers are always so so soft, they trace up and down his features, soothing soft patterns into his skin. His flesh isn’t warm, it hasn’t been for centuries.. but for tonight, now, it seems to heat in a way that is only coaxed out through your touch.

He shivers each time, has yet to get use to this. The softness, the gentle hands and the gentle voice. It almost makes him sleepy, another thing found impossible since he’s been dead. He softly rocks you two back and forth, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as you both stand in the middle of your room.

It’s quiet, save for a few steady breathes and the occasional whisp of the breeze against the leaves outside. The floor boards creak under your shared weight as you sway slowly, a silent dance.

You trace your fingers over the ridge of his nose, feel the cartilage underneath, nails lightly scratching against his flesh. Not that it bothers him, nothing could. Not from you.

You give a small hm, puzzled. He isn’t sure, his eyes flickering open to look at you, though your eyes remained closed. As if you’re focused.

He mimics you, giving a small hum in response.

“Broke your nose?” You ask, whispered. Quiet.

Your breath tingles against his skin, curls its way around his skin and beard. Smells like peppermint and sugar.

“Aye, few times,” here, he speaks in his usual accent. Thick with unspoken Gaelic, words jumbled into traces of an olden tongue, long clipped from his people.

You only nod, continuing your admiration further down, over to his lips that luckily aren’t chapped. Haven’t been for a while now. You’ve mentioned it before, the first time.

When you traced your fingers over his skin, pointer softly tapping against his lips, you muttered, “rough skin.. you should drink more water.”

He only gave a small frown then, tongue darting out to give some moisture to his otherwise cracked skin. He didn’t drink any water, but he kept a chapstick on him from there out, one he would use anytime he needed to visit you.

From there, your fingers work down to his chin, the rough stubble of determined hair scratchy at you a tiny bit.

A small smile tugs at your lips, teeth faintly shining against the light of the oil lamp. His eyes stick to it, mouth slowly falling agape. Adoration written all over his face, so bold and loud, one would feel the same adoration from his expression alone. As if the sight of your smile alone can melt even the strongest of men.

He thinks it could.

“Gonna’ shave?”

He shakes his head. You smile wider, “Good, don’t. Feels nice.”

He plans to never shave his beard again.

[lilpaigeywbb]

☆✷ relief ✷☆

➜ summary: paige is on her period, so you have to make her feel better and loved.

➜ warnings: period sex (sorry if you're not into that), smut, fluff, fingering (p receiving), not proofread (duh)

➜ pairing: sub!paige bueckers x reader

➜ author's note: sorry this took so long!!!! idk what else to say other than enjoy :) might take me longer to get some other stuff out bc i have work all weekend so bear w me plsssss k bye

you found her curled up on the couch, her face in the pillows. paige had had a stressful day; between getting her period, one of her best friends and teammates being traded, and being named an all-star starter, she was breaking down. you could see the outline of a heating pad under her hoodie. she barely acknowledged you when you came back into your shared apartment.

“bad day?” you asked, gently moving to kneel beside her. paige nodded, nose scrunched. “cramps,” she mumbled. “lyss is gone, six-flags was chaotic, and everything hurts. ‘nd my body’s bein’ mean… but hey, at least i’m an all-star.”

you brushed some hair from her forehead, feeling the heat of the heating pad even through the fabric of her hoodie. “you are an all-star,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “and even all-stars are allowed to have really crappy days.” she smiled and hummed, grateful for your understanding, but then she pouted.

“i feel gross,” she murmured, huffing and hiding her face in the pillows of the couch. “you look beautiful,” you said without hesitation, letting your fingers trace gently over her arm. she smiled and blushed a bit. she always got soft and less dominant during this time. “lemme take care of you tonight, p,” you purred, your voice smooth in her ear.

paige knew that voice all too well. it was the one you used when you wanted sex, and it made her blush even more. “you don’t have to…” she whispered, the embarrassment and hesitation clear in her voice. “but i want to. and just because you’re on your period doesn’t mean i think you’re any less sexy.” she huffed and her blush grew. “fine.”

she wanted to take a bath first, so you obliged, turning the water on to the perfect temperature and adding her favorite scented bath salts. you helped her undress with the utmost care; it was almost overwhelming for her. she settled in the tub once she was fully naked, feeling the warm water soothe her body. she watched intently as you stripped, feeling something warm in her tummy, but she tried to ignore it.

you got in behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle and resting your hands on her abs. she sighed happily and leaned back against you with ease. she always felt safe and content when she was in your arms. your hands slid lower, just under her belly button, and as you caressed her skin, you could feel her squirm - just slightly - but enough to know that she liked what you were doing.

her head lolled back against your shoulder, her lips finding your jaw, and she began to leave sloppy kisses all over it. this was your sign that it was okay to continue, but just to be sure, you whispered in her ear, “can i make you feel better, baby?” she whined and nodded instantly.

it was rare for paige to ever let you touch her on her period, mostly because she found herself gross, but she was also embarrassed by how submissive she would get. for some reason, today was different. maybe she was just horny as hell, or maybe she got over her embarrassment.

your hand slid lower, just barely ghosting over her pussy but enough to make her squirm and whine out your name. her hand gripped your wrist, a desperate motion to let you know that she wanted needed more, so you gave it to her. 

your fingers slowly touched her clit, causing a soft moan to escape her lips, so you started moving your fingers in gentle yet calculated circles. you wanted to make sure she felt as good as possible, especially since she was so sensitive during this time. 

paige’s whines and moans grew more frequent, her hips shifting up and causing the water to lap around you two in the tub. “relax, baby… you’re gonna get water everywhere,” you murmured, moving your fingers faster against her. she moaned and huffed, “can’t help it… you feel too good. feel like i could cum alre-” you cut her off by stopping your movements, prompting her to whine pathetically loud.

“no!” she all but squealed, grabbing your hand and putting it back in place. she guided your movements, her hand over yours, making you rub her clit at just the right speed. you smiled and started nipping at her neck, allowing her to take control for now.

she sighed in relief and continued to let out mini-moans and whimpers, her hand gradually moving faster. “you want more?” you breathed in her ear, prompting her to nod and gasp, pushing your fingers into her and letting you take the lead again.

your fingers moved in and out of her, the only sounds being her heavy breathing, whines, and the bathwater lapping around you. she felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements, “don’t…”

you paused and obliged, stopping your movements. your eyebrows furrowed, and you kissed her cheek. “baby, what’s wrong?” she huffed and looked down at the water, almost bashfully. “i just- i feel gross. i’m probably just gonna bleed all over your fingers and-” “baby, stop.” you interjected, letting your hands caress her thighs. “you’re beautiful no matter what, okay? even if you’re bleeding. i don’t care. i still and always will think you’re perfect.”

she was a goner.

she pushed your fingers back in, whimpering and gasping. you started pounding her shit, knowing she didn’t need time to adjust. she was ready for you, and she made it known. her moans grew louder, her pussy tightened around you, and she was whispering your name like a prayer.

you loved her like this, all needy and vulnerable for you. it was a side she rarely showed. her lips found your jaw again, craning her neck so she could kiss your soft skin. as her bites got harder, you knew she was close. you sped up your fingers, curling them deep until you found that perfect spongy spot within her.

paige whined and her mouth hung open, so you caught it in a kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth with practiced ease. she whined again against your mouth, allowing you to swallow all of her beautiful sounds. your fingers sped up even more, her pussy clenching around them so tight until she came.

she looked like an angel, her head tilted back against your shoulder as the most beautiful noises came out of her mouth. your free hand caressed her side as your fingers slowed, her pussy fluttering around them as she came down from her high. you slowly removed them and held her closer. she sighed and leaned back against you, just wanting to be in this moment forever.

you helped her stand, draining the tub and turning on the shower. you wouldn’t let her move an inch, wanting to take care of her. you washed every inch of her milky skin until she was clean, massaging her head as you scrubbed her scalp, all while pressing soft kisses to her shoulders or neck. 

paige was quite pliable like this, just willing to do whatever you asked. you helped to dry her, get her in new clothes, and make sure she was comfy in bed. you offered to get her a heating pad and a drink, but she refused. “you’re all i need,” she murmured, snuggling into your chest. you held her close, combing your fingers through her wet, blonde strands. 

“i love you always,” you whispered, kissing her head. she smiled up at you and kissed your lips gently. “thank you. i love you too, always.” she paused before adding, “thank you for always making me feel beautiful.” your heart melted, and you kissed her again, this time longer. “you are beautiful. you deserve to know and be reminded on a daily basis.” and she was.

paige was always reminded that she was beautiful because of you, and what more could she ask for?

[aahsokaatano]

It's kind of a frustrating ability.

I can't extend it to protect someone else, or even really control it. One time I gave an entire presentation to my 8th grade class, only to realize at the end that no one heard it, because time had stopped to give me time to get away from a bee that had somehow ended up in the classroom (turns out I have an allergy that I wasn't aware of).

I've made the best of it, though. If the universe wants to give me a get-out-of-jail-free card, then I'm not going to complain (too much). I just wish that there was something I could, y'know, do with it.

And then everything stopped while I was walking to work one morning. I could tell immediately - the rain froze in place, and the people around me stopped moving. Great, okay, what is it this time? Car skidding out of control? Lightning about to strike? Mugging about to go wrong?

Except... I couldn't see anything around me that seemed to be the issue. I kept going, down the block, and then the next four, weaving through the people frozen like statues and grimacing at the weird sensation of walking into stagnant rain.

I walked until I hit the edge of the city, but nothing changed, and my stomach sank. This couldn't be good.

I ended up just going back home - partly because I wasn't sure where else to go, and partly because I wanted my bike. It seemed I was going to have to really cover some ground to get away from whatever this was.

But when I sat down and balanced on one foot, the other resting on its pedal, I hesitated. Something bad was about to happen. Something that was big enough to cover at least half of the city, and probably more. And I was going to... run away? Hadn't I always bitched and moaned about how frustrating it was that my power wasn't good for helping other people, just myself?

Maybe this was my chance to actually fucking do something, for once. After all, I had all the time in the world.

Biking around the city was pretty fruitless, until I thought to look up. And there I finally found them - two small shapes, way up in the sky, clearly caught in the middle of a super-powered tussle. Irritatingly high, in fact. Why does it seem like all the people who end up doing the super hero/super villain shit end up flying? It's very inconvenient for the rest of us!

Whatever they were doing was about to destroy the city, clearly, so I needed to break up the catfight somehow. And to do that, I needed to get up there.

Machinery doesn't really like working outside of time - hence the regular old bicycle - but I can make it happen with enough patience. And god knows I've got plenty of that. Good thing, too, because first I had to read up on how to operate a crane, and those things are fucking complicated. Then there was the issue of moving one close enough to the idiots to be useful (more carefully than anyone has ever moved a crane before, because I couldn't exactly ask people to move out of the way), and getting the arm in position... Let's not even get into how sketchy it felt climbing the arm up towards the idiots.

But I did it, some how. I was still quite a ways below them, but a lot closer than I had been on the ground. This close, I could at least identify the idiots. The hero was actually from the much bigger city a short ways away - I guess we technically count as part of their territory, but they weren't usually seen around here, which meant that it was probably the villain who had tried some shit. She wasn't even one of the heavy hitters that was on the news with some kind of regularity; in fact, the most recent story on her had ended with a group of aspiring teenage heroes shutting her down.

She must have upped her game since then, if whatever was about to happen between these two was going to destroy my city. Not that I have any particular claim over it, I'm not a hero myself, obviously, but shit, I live here. I'd like to continue living here! And that can't happen if these idiots level the place!

It was a little difficult to work out exactly what was happening from my awkward angel below them, but I eventually pieced together that the hero's palm, glowing with energy, was millimeters above some kind of contraption that the villain was holding. Seemed as likely the culprit as anything else. And if I was wrong, then I would just have to try something else.

The best tool always has been, and always will be, a big stick, and you can quote me on that. It's what started our distant ancestors on the path of becoming human, and it's what I used to knock the stupid hexagon-box-thingy out of the villain's hands. It dropped right down towards me, and I did not catch it, because I was still holding my stick with one hand, and hanging on to the crane with the other.

Didn't really matter, though, because suddenly things were moving again.

" - end your... What the fuck?"

"Hi!" I waved cheerfully, causing the idiots to look down at me in shock. Which, fair. From their perspective, I - and a huge crane - had basically just appeared out of nowhere. "Both of you need to stop, 'kay?"

"Who are you?"

"No one important," I shrugged. "But you guys were about to destroy the whole city, and that would really suck, because I live here and also my favorite coffee shop is here."

"What did you do?" the villain demanded, looking around frantically for her device.

"Stopped you both from doing something stupid. You're welcome, by the way."

"How?" the hero asked. They looked even more confused than the villain.

"Oh, it wasn't easy! Took the equivalent of several weeks, which is the longest I've ever had by far, it was a very weird feeling, but I got here in the end. Now please go finish your fight somewhere else, I'm gonna be so late for work."

I turned and started shimmying my way back down the crane, ignoring the questions being shouted at me.

After all, I was on the completely wrong side of the city now, and I did have to get to work.

You were born with a strange power. Whenever you are in immediate danger, time freezes until you move out of the way. One day, time freezes, but no matter how far you go...it doesn't unfreeze.

[letsnowtalk]

You always show up

Nika mühl x Fem!Reader

⸻

You waited until the crowd had cleared out.

The noise of Gampel had faded to a hum by the time you stepped back inside. You liked it like this—empty bleachers, dim lights, the echo of your own footsteps. There was something sacred about the silence after a storm.

And tonight’s storm had a name. Nika Mühl.

Twenty assists. A handful of steals. And the kind of fire only she could bring—snarling on defense, smirking on fast breaks, screaming after every big bucket. You swore you’d never seen someone play with that much heart.

She hadn’t noticed you earlier, not really. Maybe a quick glance while she jogged to the bench. But your seat behind the scorer’s table wasn’t exactly subtle. You weren’t just another fan. You never were.

You leaned against the wall and waited, arms folded, backpack slung over one shoulder. She always stayed late after games. Sometimes it was shots. Sometimes stretching. Sometimes just pacing while everyone else left, trying to let the adrenaline come down.

This time, it was pacing.

You heard her sneakers first, squeaking against the hardwood. Then the thump of a basketball echoing as she crossed half court, dribbling absently. Hair damp with sweat, jersey loose, expression focused like the game hadn’t ended.

“Stalking me again?” she asked without looking up.

You smirked. “Only if you count showing up after your best game of the season.”

She turned, eyes catching yours—mischievous and sharp. “You always show up when I go off. Coincidence?”

“Maybe I’m your good luck charm.”

Nika walked closer, spinning the ball on her fingers, a cocky little grin pulling at her lips. “Or maybe you just like watching me lose my mind out there.”

“I do like it,” you said, voice softer now. “Not just the game. The way you fight. The way you don’t back down. It’s impossible not to watch.”

Her smirk faded slightly. Something flickered in her eyes—something real. Vulnerable, even. But she covered it like she always did, pushing the ball into your hands and stepping back.

“Show me what you’ve got, then.”

You blinked. “What?”

“One-on-one,” she challenged. “If you’re gonna talk like that, you better back it up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to play me right now?”

“Scared?”

You scoffed and dropped your bag. “You wish.”

⸻

She let you score the first point. You knew it. And when you made a jumper over her, she even clapped, laughing like she couldn’t believe it.

But then she turned it on.

Quick feet. Fast hands. All instincts and control. She didn’t even need to trash talk—her body said it all. Loose and locked in. Playful but dangerous.

You got the ball back after a missed shot and turned toward the top of the key—but before you could dribble, her arms wrapped around you from behind, and she whispered against your ear, “Game’s over.”

You froze.

Her breath was warm. Her hands didn’t move. Just held you there. Close.

“You always show up for me,” she murmured, voice low and serious now. “Every game. Every time I need someone… you’re just there. I don’t think you know how much that means.”

Your heartbeat picked up. You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or her. Probably both.

“You never ask for anything back,” she continued. “But I see you. I feel you. And I think—” She hesitated. “I think I want something to change.”

You turned in her arms slowly, face inches from hers now. “Change how?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you like she was trying to memorize every line of your face.

Then she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t wild. Just honest. Like the first time she ever passed you the ball and trusted you’d take the shot.

When she pulled back, she whispered, “I don’t want to play it cool anymore. I want people to know.”

Your breath hitched. “You mean—”

“I mean I want to walk off the court and kiss you in front of the whole damn student section one day,” she said, grinning now. “I want to win, and the first person I run to is you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. But we can start slow. You and me. Post-practice shootarounds. Long bus rides. Late night texts. Sneaking into the gym when we both can’t sleep.”

You nodded, smile widening. “Sounds like the perfect game plan.”

Nika took your hand, fingers lacing through yours with no hesitation. “Then let’s run it.”

And when you walked off the court together, she didn’t let go.

———

Have no motivation to write😞

[ashlynlovestlou]

hi hi idk if you can but could you write boss abby helping reader with a panic attack at work or smth???

hii of course i can

tw: panic attack comfort ; gn!reader ; cursing ; (reader is embarrassed about it)

masterlist

ellie version

you knew when you woke up this morning with a pit in your stomach that today would be hard. of course, you didn't exactly anticipate sitting at your cubicle in front of your computer, shaking so hard that your entire body hurts.

what caused the panic attack, you don't know. all you know is that you want it to be over. for the thoughts and the shaking to stop, just so you could have a moment of peace.

and of course, today of all days, abby fucking anderson is in the building. now, usually this wouldn't be a problem. abby is sweet to all of her employees and colleagues. nobody really has anything to say about her, except how awesome her bonuses are around the holidays.

but you're unsure of how she would react if she saw you in the state you are in now. sitting silently, not doing anything productive, just having a panic attack. she's not cruel, you know that much, but you also happen to know that she values her business and doesn't believe in wasting time.

so you type away idly at the computer, writing off emails to clients and trying to push through.

the doors to the room open, a few other employees' heads popping up out of their cubicles to see who's there, so you do the same.

of fucking course.

abby anderson and her long braid and tailored suit. she and her... perfectly sculpted jawline and soft eyes and... wow, has she been working out?

seeing her was a nice distraction for a moment, before you're pulled back into reality. your anxiety was almost making you feel nauseous, the "pit" from this morning growing into something much, much more extreme.

you duck your head inside your cubicle, trying to control your breathing as abby makes her way around the room, graciously greeting all of the employees.

head ducked, hands sweaty and shaking. god, please just get it over with before she comes over here. please, please, please.

"whoa, you okay?" her soft, sultry voice says from behind you.

you turn, trying to keep your cool as you respond. your mouth opens with the intention of speaking, but only a quiet, strangled breath comes out.

abby had read your employee file, along with everyone else's, front to back. something about "feeling closer to your employees." or whatever. so she knew about your condition, and she knows how it can get in the way of working. plus, it didn't take a genius to figure you out.

"come with me to my office." she murmurs, putting a hand in the center of your back to guide you out of your chair and too her office in the front and center of the room.

as soon as you hear the door click behind you, you break down into tears, your breathing increasingly shaky.

"okay, slow down." she says, guiding you to sit down on one of her faux leather chairs, "breathe. slowly."

you try to calm down, attempting to calm yourself out of the sheer embarrassment. jesus christ, why does your boss have to see this?

"talk to me. what's going on?" she coos, putting her hand back on your back and rubbing large circles with her soft, yet calloused hand. why is she being so... understanding?

"i need to go back to work." you choke out.

she's quick to tut at you, "the hell you are. you're staying right here until you calm down. can i get you anything?"

you shake your head no, swallowing the lump in your throat. you're too busy in your head to notice abby's thick thumbs swiping the tears off your cheeks.

"do you want to talk?" she asks in the softest voice you'd ever heard. god, why does she have to be so sweet?

you numbly shake your head to her question, the tightness that consumed your throat starting to ease, breathing becoming just the slightest bit easier. she could tell, too, by the way that your chest didn't rise and fall as fast, and that your eyebrows relaxed after being squeezed together.

"better?" she asks after a moment, to which you nod.

you didn't know why, but your heart was still racing. not with panic, no, but this time with something else.

sorry i haven't written in a while guys🥲 this probably sucks

[juceys]

just this once jimmy uso

pairing jimmy uso x female reader wc 1.2k+ genre fluff warnings not proofread.. per usual leki’s note hellooo new formattt ? loverboy jimmy has been living in my mf head gosh darn it

mini playlist just the way you are, bruno mars. all my life, k-ci & jojo. get you, daniel caesar ft kali uchis.

you hate being injured.

not because it hurts — although it definitely does — but because it makes you feel… helpless. one of the things you pride yourself on is being an independent woman. and you hate the feeling of that independence getting yanked out from under you the minute you felt your ankle bent sideways in that God-awful fall mid-match.

but what’s even worse, is what comes after getting injured.

the sympathy. the coddling. the babying.

you know everyone means well, but there’s only so many “you okay, sweetheart?” you can take before getting irritated. you don’t want to be doted on — you just wanna get back into the ring. back to taping your wrists and jumping over the ropes, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins.

now the only adrenaline rush you’re getting is from annoyance, thanks to everyone being extra attentive.

especially your boyfriend, jon.

you love him, you really do. and you’re grateful he’s as helpful and caring as he is. but Lord help you, you’re going to lose your mind if he insists on doing one more thing for you.

you just pulled into your driveway after a long day of traveling, and the only thing you can think of is taking a warm bath and going to bed. reaching for your bag in the backseat, jon stopped you and insisted he’d take them in for you — you almost barked at him.

almost.

and he knew that. “c’mon babygirl, lemme jus’ help you, okay?”

he’s been helping you all day — from the airport in los angeles, to arriving in pensacola, and even now. you’ve insisted that you can do it yourself, but jon, being the gentleman he is, wouldn’t have it. in your head, you’ve been nothing but upset with him. but somehow, it’s not until now when your frustrated demeanor cracks.

he has this annoying habit of calling you ‘babygirl’ whenever he wants something. usually it’s playful. teasing.

like when he wanted you to pass aux in the rental so he could play his ‘goated’ playlist. spoiler, it wasn’t.

or when he wanted you to try his smoothie that he swore didn’t taste like chalk. it did.

or when he wanted you to hold his hand for “balance” on the moving shuttle — which didn’t explain why his fingers were still laced with yours an hour after getting off the shuttle.

but this time, it sounded… different. it was softer. sincere. like he needed you to let him do this.

so this time you didn’t protest, and you let him swing your bag over his shoulder and roll your suitcase in. didn’t protest when he gently took your crutches and replaced them with himself to help you up the stairs. didn’t protest when he sat you on your bed and took your shoes off.

“baby,” you mutter, half-rolling your eyes at him. “you don’t have to-“

“i know,” he says while continuing at his task. “but i’m here anyways, so deal with it.”

he stands up, placing your shoes on your rack before looking around, assessing what else you might need. so thoughtful, you think. he hands you your water bottle and you give him a look. “don’t make me feed it to you girl,” he jokes. you snatch it from his hands, muttering, “i’m not helpless.”

“i know mama, but even strong women need a break sometimes.”

you blank at that. you take a long sip, staring out your bedroom window as he continues doing… whatever it was he was doing.

you hate how he can see right through you. how easily he can cut through the exterior you’ve built over the years — especially now, when you’re still feeling embarrassed about crying on the trainer’s table as he stayed by your side, holding your hand.

jon never pushed.

he just moved around your room like it’s second nature — plugging your phone in, refilling your humidifier, running and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer.

even with the pissy attitude you’ve given him all day, he’s still running around doing everything he can do for you. and your heart melts, suddenly feeling guilty about the attitude you’ve had.

“scoot back and move your leg up baby.”

you frown. “i was gonna take a bath.”

“you can bath after you ice that ankle for twenty minutes like the doc said to mama,” he says, and you know he won’t take no for an answer. “don’t make me carry you.”

you squint at him. “you wouldn’t.”

“watch me.”

you grumbled under your breath as jon moves to pick you up off the edge of the bed, to you leaning on the headboard. you flinch as he moves your injured ankle to lay atop of a pillow, before gently placing the ice pack over it.

his hands are warm. careful. treating your ankle as if it’s the most fragile thing on earth. maybe letting him take care of you isn’t too bad after all.

“feels good?” he asks. you nod. “good.”

he moves to adjust the pillows behind you, “relax mama. you ain’t going anywhere, and neither am i.” you smile softly.

-

some time had passed — you finally took your bath (with the help of jon of course) and changed into comfy clothes, same as him. you were in a similar position on your bed as earlier, but without an ice pack this time as jon sits on your vanity chair with his legs up on your bed.

you’re watching tangled, a comfort movie of yours when you look at jon to see him already staring at you.

not in a flirty way, or a joking one.

just… looking. intently. softly.

“what?” you say quietly.

he hesitates at first. then he moves his legs off your bed and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“y’know,” he starts. “you ain’t gotta be strong all the time baby.”

you blink before furrowing your eyebrows. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” he says, holding your gaze. “i know you don’t like feeling weak, i get it. but damn girl, it’s not like you gotta prove something. not to me. not to anybody.”

“i’m not trying to prove anyth—“

“you are, sweetheart,” he says gently, careful with his tone. “you think needing help makes you weak. lesser than. it doesn’t.”

you swallow hard. those words hit somewhere deep — somewhere raw you haven’t let anyone, or yourself, touch in years.

you look down. “i just… i hate feeling like this. like a burden.”

he gets up and moves to the empty spot beside you, taking your hands in his.

“y’not a burden, baby. you’re you. and that’s all i need.”

you look up at him, letting the silence linger in the air.

“you gotta let me in, mama. let me take care of you. not just today — but forever. whenever.”

for the first time since you got hurt — since the pain, the frustration, the overwhelming weight of being benched — something cracked in your chest. but it wasn’t pride or irritation.

it was something softer. something scared.

you didn’t say anything, just leaning into his arms that wrapped around your smaller body.

he rubbed reassuring circles on your arm before kissing the top of your head and whispering —

“i gotchu babygirl, always.”

[lightsoutmatthews]

please could i request doing the current boyfriend tiktok trend on auston or joseph woll ??? i feel like they are both Lovers and would be funny as fuck

YES!! I love writing about TikTok couples pranks, I spiced it up a little because it would´ve been a little short otherwise 🤗

"Current boyfriend" – Joseph Woll

“Hey babe?” you called out to your boyfriend who looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone as soon as he heard you speak up.

“What´s up?”

“Can we do a TikTok together?”

His eyebrows raised at your request. It wasn’t unusual for him to appear in your TikToks, but he was mostly in the background. A shadow in the mirror, a known cap halfway in a clip or his back behind you. 

You very rarely asked him to be an actual part of the videos, partly because you knew he wasn’t big on social media and partly because you didn’t want to be the girlfriend that used her famous boyfriend to become some sort of influencer.

“Yeah, why not. What do you have in mind?”

You explained to him that you would to the put a finger down challenge where each one of you would tell the other statements and if either of you had done it you would put a finger down.

Little did Joseph know that your plan was a different one.

The entire week you had seen the “current boyfriend” trend on your for you page and you were dying to pull it on him.

He wasn’t on TikTok, which meant he had no idea it even existed, and he would be as clueless as ever.

“Hold on a second!” he said as you were about to press start on your phone.

You rolled your eyes giggling as you watched him fixing his hair in the screen of your phone. “You look perfect, babe. No need to make it worse while trying to fix it!” you laughed.

“I woke up from a nap 15 minutes ago and did not have the chance to look in a mirror yet. I looked exactly like that,” he laughed, brushing through his hair one last time before finally accepting how it fell around his face.

“Are you ready now?”

“Ready!”

You pressed the red button on your phone and the familiar “ding” of the recording start rang in your ear.

“Hey everyone! Today we have a special guest in the video!” you smiled and held your hands out like you were presenting something on a silver platter. “For everyone that doesn’t know who this is, this is my current boyfriend, Joseph. He….”

You said it casually, like it was a normal thing that was part of your daily conversation but from the corner of your eye you saw him freeze up.

Laughter threatened to spill out, but you had to pull yourself together and act like nothing unusual happened, so you just kept going with what you wanted to say. “Well, anyways my current boyfriend Joseph and I will do the put a finger down challenge today where we…” you repeated the words.

“What did you just say?” he interrupted you mid-sentence, eyes wide open, confusion spread all over his face.

You pressed your lips together trying to hold back the laughter that was still threatening to spill out of your mouth. Then you tilted your head like you had no idea what he was confused about.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“Did you just… did you just introduce me as your current boyfriend?” The perplexity in his voice almost made you break but you swallowed hard to keep it down.

“Uhm, yeah…?”

“On camera?” he clarified. “For the people of your TikTok and everyone else to see?”

You nodded, still pretending to be confused about why he was asking that. “Yeah? Was I supposed to say something different?” you questioned, now matching his raised eyebrows.

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head in disbelief and just… walks away.

“Joey, come back,” you giggled but a small part of you started to feel guilty about bringing this kind of reaction out of him for a silly prank. You didn’t want to make him feel so bad he would leave the room.

He didn’t answer to your calling of his name, but it didn’t take him long to come back. You didn’t even have to stop the video before he was walking back into the room.

The frown was still on his face but this time he had his phone in his hand as he walked towards you. “Current…” he said again, and you were about to put him out of his misery when he continued. “As in just right now? At the present time?”

Right then you decided to keep going just a little longer, so you just shrugged but didn’t give him a verbal reply. 

“Are you planning on replacing me anytime soon?” he questioned which made you feel even more guilty.

“No, but you are my current boyfriend. You are my boyfriend right now and that means you are my current boyfriend. Does it not?”

He raised his eyebrows again. “I mean I guess that’s right, but the way you said that made it sound like you don’t plan on having me as your future boyfriend.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jo,” you shrugged still trying to stop yourself from laughing at his puppy dog eyes that looked a little bit too much like heartbreak for this just being a silly prank.

“I guess, since we´re being honest here, I think now is the time for me to tell you something. You should probably sit down for this.”

His voice was flat now and your heart dropped immediately. “Uh…okay…?” you said, the sudden change of tone making you worry and forget about the trend you were doing immediately.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats, like he was contemplating how to drop whatever he wanted to say on you.

“I don’t want to be your current boyfriend… I have been thinking about it for a while and…”

You jumped up from the couch in shock, slapping your hands over your mouth, tears picking at the corners of your eyes immediately. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest.

“Joseph…” you breathed almost soundless.

That’s when he broke into a fit of giggles and a cloud of heavy confusion settled over you.

Your heart was still racing at a hundred miles per hour because you did not understand what was going on at the moment.

If he was really breaking up with you, why was he laughing?

“You should see your face,” he laughed breathless, holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

You shook your head in an attempt to make sense of what was happening.

“What is happening right now?” you questioned, whipping the wet spots under your eyes away.

“Do you really think I didn’t know what you were doing to me? I´m not a grandpa that´s never on social media and Matt showed me that a few days ago at practice because one of his ex-college teammates had it done to him too.”

Relief washed over you immediately. “So, you´re not breaking up with me?”

Joseph shook his head laughing. “No, silly.”

He walked over to the couch and sat down, then patted next to him, signaling for you to sit down.

“At first, I was confused by the current boyfriend thing but then I remembered that video when you said it for the second time. I have to admit I was also kind of suspicious when you were suddenly asking me to be in a video when you literally didn’t do that for months.”

You swatted his arm and then buried your face in his shoulder. “And instead of just laughing and telling me that you knew what I was doing you decided to give me a freaking heart attack?” you whined as you leaned back again and buried your head in your hands.

“I saw the opportunity and took it, look at it like immediate revenge,” he laughed.

“That was so mean, I genuinely thought you were about to break up with me.”

“No way, sweetheart. The only way you´ll not be able to call me your boyfriend anymore is when you start calling me your fiancé at some point in the future.”

That made your heart flatter in the best ways. “Promise?” you asked hopeful, batting your eyes up at him.

A soft smile spread on his lips before he leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to your lips. “Promise.”

[serveandchoke]

Message In a Bottle

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Synopsis: You ever send someone a message at 2am and wonder if it actually landed somewhere? This is that — long-distance tension, bad timing, soft yearning, and the one person you can’t stop thinking about no matter what timezone you’re in. Just two people throwing feelings into the universe and hoping the other catches it.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm reallyyyyyy sorry for not writing and publishing! College's been taking up all my time, and I was lucky enough to have the rarity of getting free time so I could write this small fic. I have a few ones in the works, so yeah look out for that one. ♡♡

The thing is — she never meant to fall for him.

Not really. Not like this.

It started harmlessly. A conversation at an event. A shared laugh over the same stupid meme. A follow-back. A couple of DMs. Nothing serious.

But somehow, "nothing serious" turned into late-night FaceTimes. Turned into missing each other’s texts. Turned into looking at the sky in two different countries at the same time, wondering if he was doing the same.

And now, she’s sitting at her kitchen table, staring at her phone, pretending she doesn’t want to text him first.

Because it’s been three days. Not that she’s counting.

(But she’s totally counting.)

--

Jannik’s on the other side of the world — literally. Somewhere between press, practice, and pretending to sleep on a plane again. He’s been running on caffeine and adrenaline, earbuds in, hood up, zoned out to music he can’t even hear.

He’s been trying not to think about her. Not because he doesn’t want to — but because it’s getting harder not to.

It’s stupid, how fast it all happened. How easy it felt. How the second he met her, something in him just… clicked.

She was all fire and charm, didn’t try to impress him, didn’t ask for photos or act like she cared that he was that guy. She just handed him a drink and said, “You looked like you needed this.” And honestly, He did.

And now, weeks later, he’s opening his phone mid-layover, scrolling up on their chat thread just to reread the old stuff.

She hasn’t texted first in days, which means he’s probably next up.

He types:

this airport is so cold it’s actually illegal

Then deletes it.

Types again:

why do all sandwiches in europe taste like regret

Deletes that too.

Jesus. What is he even doing?

---

She’s doing the same thing — hovering over her keyboard, staring at a half-written message:

I walked by a guy who smelled like your cologne and now I hate everyone else

Too much. She deletes it.

Instead she types:

hey, are you alive?

or did you marry your physio and forget to tell me

She hits send before she can overthink it. Then immediately tosses her phone across the couch like it’s cursed. Fuck.

---

He sees the message while boarding the plane.

Smiles. Actually smiles. His physio side-eyes him like he knows something.

He replies:

yes, he proposed. i'm sorry you had to find out like this.

And she fires back:

wow. not even a voice note? fake husband.

The banter slips right back into place. Easy. Familiar. Like no time passed. Like they’re right back in that weird little space between something and not quite.

And Jannik thinks: god, I miss her.

---

Weeks go by like this. Back and forth. Messages in different time zones. Snapshots of whatever city he’s in. Voice notes of her rambling while walking home from work. He saves the ones where she laughs without realizing it. And then, finally–

He has a break. Not long. Just enough.

So he books the flight. Doesn’t even tell her. Just shows up in her city, texting:

any chance you’re home tonight?

She’s confused. Texts back:

yeah?? why

And then her doorbell rings. She opens it, and he’s standing there — hoodie up, hair messy, suitcase by his side. Looking tired. And annoyingly perfect. He grins.

“Hey.”

She just stares for a second. Then hits him in the arm.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I was gonna ask if you had dinner plans,” he shrugs. “But I’ll also accept being physically assaulted.”

She’s still blinking, like she doesn’t believe he’s real.

Then: “You’re seriously here? Just like that?”

He nods. “Just like that.”

She pulls him in — into the apartment, into a hug, into whatever this thing is between them that neither of them wants to label but both of them feel.

And as he wraps his arms around her, tucking his chin into her shoulder, he says it — not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough.

“I kept thinking about you.”

She breathes in his scent. It's familiar, and it's real. It was an addiction.

Warm and kind of overwhelming in the best way.

“Me too,” she whispers.

Because for weeks they’d both been tossing words into the void. Hoping the other would catch them. Hoping timing wouldn’t win.

And now, it feels like the bottle finally washed ashore.

Exactly where it was supposed to.

[hiddenhornsclub]

nsfw/mdni Jester!Huening Kai x Princess!Reader

not proofread, reader has female anatomy, fingering, tit+clit stim, p in v, aftercare

Evil ruler of a father loves torturing the Jester, Huening Kai. Causing him to make a fool of himself, blabber jokes, and lose his voice while singing for hours. But Kai thinks it’s worth it because it makes you smile.

One night, Jester!Kai is called to your chambers. He’s sweating, nervous because he has never been to your room, nor has he been called by you. Fixing his messy hair under the idiotic hat, shining his guitar, then rushes through the castle halls.

Coming upon the door of your chambers, he takes a deep breath and pushes forward. That same breath gets caught in his throat seeing you in your nude color slip dress. It was unlike anything he’d seen on you, always wearing vibrant colors adorned on outrageous dresses. This was different.

You walk towards the jester, nightgown clinging to your hips and legs while you walk. Kai gulps when he notices your perky nipples peaking through the satin. You lift a gentle hand placing it on his shoulder, greeting him so casually. However, Kai falls to his knees, not able to handle your beauty, your glorious aura.

“Your majesty,” he swallows hard trying to hold back a stutter. Eyes lifting to your face, that glistened in the moonlight. “D-do you want me to sing you a lullaby? Tell you a story? Entertain you?”

You chuckle so sweetly, a sound that had the man’s heart flutter. Your hands hold the jester’s face, Kai almost leans into the hold before going back to work. Suddenly standing up he grabs his guitar and strums the strings, but you lower his grasp of the instrument.

“No, I wanted something else from you.” You admit.

“I will do anything for you, Your Majesty.”

A faint smirk turns your lips. “Is that so?”

He looked ethereal, his features were soft, yet striking, like a marble sculpture of an idea of the most handsome man. It was a shame that there were no suitable princes that could match his beauty and talent. You stare into the Jester’s big brown eyes with twinkling stars reflecting on them. Iris flickered trying to read your mind as to what you wanted from him.

Your gentle hand grazes the curve of his blushed cheek down to his chin, guiding his face so that your lips touch. Kai’s knees fall weak, close to falling into you. The princess is kissing him, and he is beyond delighted. However, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. One still held the guitar whereas the other stiffly hung by his side.

Cupping his jaw, threading your fingers through his wavy hair as if needing more closeness, more warmth, more of the jester. The kiss grows hungrier, tasting everything unsaid, longing for one another, tension, months, and years of glances every time Kai goes to work and entertains the king.

Lips part, only to find each other again with more fire, more need. A loud crash of the guitar hitting the floor from Kai finally giving in to the touch of you. Tongues brush in a passionate rhythm, breaths hitching and mingling, chests rising fast and uneven.

Heartbeats faster as both of your footsteps bring you to your bed. Falling into the soft quilt, Kai lifts his upper body to look at you under him.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” He says breathlessly, overwhelmed by your sprawled-out body. A lustful image that will be added to his next songs.

You nod your head, “Yes.”

Kai’s fingers lightly lift the thin layer covering your body. He treated you like a delicate crystal that could break with any wrong move. His long fingers slipped in between your legs and felt your arousal coating them. You whine at the feeling, back arching and bringing your tits to Kai’s face. He leaned down and sucked your pebbled nipple through the silk cloth as he rubbed soft circles on your folds.

Burning desire filled from your core to the rest of your body. Squirming and thrusting your hips against the jester’s hand. Kai focuses on your clit causing you to moan out. His eyes were on you, still stimulating your breasts. In awe of how your body reacted to him, your head was thrown back and limbs twitching from pleasure.

After you cum on his fingers, his lips are back on yours. Softly kissing you, letting you take your time to recover. You sigh, and look at him, eyes dark and your mischievous smile telling Kai that you’re not done with his entertainment.

He tears away the crazy attire he’s forced to wear, stripped down naked. His broad shoulders cover you like a roof as he hovers over you. “That’s more like it.” You say while feeling his muscular arms.

“You know for a princess, you’re quite naughty.” Kai smiles before going down for another kiss.

He lifts your legs to wrap around his waist. Then lining his dick to your hole. Slowly pushing into you, still delicate for the princess. Stretching you and going so deep you could feel him in your throat. You were in absolute heaven, yet asking for him to go faster.

Kai has to restrain himself from turning his kisses into bites. He doesn’t think the kingdom would be pleased by the markings of a jester. All he could do was hold your hips tightly and follow your commands. Thrusting into you, angling you to get that perfect spot. Your moan increased and became louder until you both couldn’t hold on any longer.

The jester is quick to clean you up. Dipping a rag into a bowl of water, wiping you. He memorizes every curve and marks of your beautiful body. Kai was glad that he could fulfill his duty by entertaining the princess. To his surprise, as he starts to get dressed you reach out for him. You beg for him to get back in bed. There he sang you a lullaby as you fell asleep.

[naomissecret]

loser!matt says something he shouldn’t have!

based on this ask ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

the whole party was going well, everyone was enjoying, you felt pretty like always, your friends were having a good night, no one had to drive tonight and matt was looking extra good

you lost matt for second,and the next one? you and jasmine found him laughing with nick like dumbass in a couch very far away from where the group was, both of them were drunk, you and jasmine decided to join them for a while and then take them where the rest of the group was just so they wouldn’t got lost between all the people, you and jasmine sat by their sides, nick keep laughing and explaining jasmine what was so funny as matt turned to look at you

“want some?” matt offered you the rest of his drink as he tried to stop giggling “no thank you baby” he rolled his eyes with a smirk “I’m not-“ you already knew what he was about to say “your not my baby, yeah I know, that’s just for now, someday you’ll be mine” you chuckled, that was your way to treat matt, it was a thing between you and him, kinda like an internal joke, just for the two of you, he chuckled and shake his head

“what? c’mon don’t you think I’m pretty at least?” you said jokingly and flirty

“Yeah uh huh… if that’s what you wanna hear” he murmured and scoffed before drinking from his cup

oh… that was low… really really low, it wasn’t exactly what he said, it was how he said it, out of the joke tone, like if he really didn’t thought you were pretty, it would’ve been better if he would’ve just stay shut rather than that shitty answer, you knew matt sometimes could give a little bit of attitude but you never thought that he would ever say something like that in that tone, it kinda made you lost a little bit of the charm of him, why work on a boy who can’t even give a compliment when you chase him like crazy?

you quickly stud up and went back with the group, not even waiting for jasmine or nick, your night was already fucked up thanks to matt and his attitude

the rest of the night you tried to focus on anything else that was not matt, and he noticed it, every time he would ‘discreetly’ sit by side you when you had a little break from dancing, he was expecting the same flirty attitude of yours, he was waiting for you to try to seduce him, tease him, do whatever instead of just ignore him and pretend he didn’t existed, he didn’t understood why, in his head he hasn’t said anything bad or do something, but he was also not gonna start the conversation, it was supposed to be you the one chasing him, not him chasing you, why would he do that? he ‘doesn’t even want you’ and when it was time to leave, he didn’t understood either why you didn’t you wanted to go in the same uber as him

he got inside the uber with his brothers and two other people, this whole change in your attitude… it was weird but he didn’t thought you were mad at him, maybe someone at the party did something to you and that made you mad, why would you be mad at him?

but at the next day he started to think you were actually mad at him, usually he wakes up with a message of yours trying to make a plan for later or see somehow to spend some time with him and seduce him, but that morning was different, there was no message, no lost call or anything, he was also not gonna send anything, but secretly he was checking his phone every 10 minutes for a text of yours but the whole day went through and you didn’t send anything, you even posted something and didn’t texted him in the entire day

matt confirmed you were totally mad at him when 4 days passed and still no signs from you, the group decided to make a little movie night at jasmine’s house and that was his opportunity to know what was going on

matt, nick and chris arrived to jasmine’s house with their assigned food to share and he spotted you in jasmine’s kitchen cutting some fruit, he approached you with the excuse that ‘he needed to put the ice scream in the fridge’

“um… hi…” he muttered as he fidgeted his fingers with the hems of his hoodie

you hummed in response and kept ignoring him, that was all he needed to know you were a 100% mad at him, matt walked away and sat on the couch trying to think why, but he did knew someone who can give him the actual answer, jasmine

he got up and looked for her, at this point he didn’t care if he had to keep the nonchalant act, he needed to know what did he do to got you mad enough to ignore him, matt approached jasmine nervously and took her to her backyard

“jas… um… do you know why she’s mad at me?”

“uh… I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you”

“please just tell me, she’s been ignoring me since the party and I don’t know why, I’ve done nothing” he said almost in a pleading voice, jasmine hesitated for a second but in this months since the triplets became part of the group no one has seen him this willing to talk to you, it’s usually backwards

“well… at the last party you might have said something… you know how you sometimes give a little bit of attitude? well you kinda give it to her and she didn’t took it that well” the mattitude, of course you got to be mad about that

“and what did I say to be exact?”

“uh… she asked you if you at least thought she was pretty and you said “yeah sure, if that’s what you wanna hear” in like a very um bad tone”

shit, it did sounded bad.

the movie night went through and all that time all he did was thinking a way to apologize or even thinking if he should actually apologize, maybe if he give you time you would forget about it and reach for him again, but what if you didn’t? what if you actually move on, what if he just fucked it up and you would just get over him, I mean he would be victorious on being the only man to reject you but he actually liked being with you, but as friends, of course not in other way

he give up and decided it was better to just try to apologize, after the movie ended he saw you on your phone probably texting someone else so he took the opportunity that no one was paying attention, he sat by side you and muttered “can we talk?” you had to hold back from rolling your eyes and decided to stay quiet, he sighed and kept talking “I-I know last party I said something… um not very nice-…. I’m sorry, ok?…” he murmured trying to reach your face, seeing you keep acting like you were so nonchalant about the situation and his apology kinda made him got mad and get up to leave you alone until an idea popped in his head

matt took a deep breath, god he was gonna regret this decision his whole life, he looked around to the group to make sure no one was watching and mumbled almost in a forced tone “i… do think you’re pretty” he then quickly pressed a quick peck on your cheek, that definitely took you off guard, you were actually gonna drop the nonchalant act after his first apology but this was way better, like him admitting out loud he thought you were pretty? you were definitely gonna tease him about this later

“I forgive you, but… you have to give me another kiss” you said with a smirk, he scoffed and shake his head “hell nah, you’re trying to take advantage of my kindness” he said getting up and walking where his brothers are to go home. at least he could’ve give you a damn ride but that’s too much kindness in a day for him.

♱note: im kinda back, gimme ideas to help my brain be more lazy and not work on my own ☺️

(English is not my first language)

🏷️: @izzylovesmatt @fadedstvrn @sturnvdds @sorrybirds @viviansturns @whore4chris @matthewbernardswife @adorematt

[suspiriuums]

The sexual tension between Y/N and nam-gyu is driving me insane, you are so mean for that 🫣 Anyways... I was wondering if maybe we could get some fluff? Like nam-gyu walks in on her crying and trys to comfort her. (Even though hes really bad at it.) Tysm!!

.ᐟ.ᐟ contains. mention of suicidal ideations .ᐟ.ᐟ author's note. i'm glad you're enjoying everything so far! i can definitely do some fluff for u. even if in the end it's not really fluff bc our poor little gyu doesn't know how to be a comforting presence to save his life ASJAKDHJ.

ROOMMATE!NAM-GYU's best efforts still weren't good enough.

You were over it. It had been a long, insufferable week, running on fumes and only living for collapsing onto your bed at the end of the day. And Nam-gyu was no help, asking you everyday if you were cooking dinner, leading you to snap at him and tell him to just order something for himself. Or, god forbid, learn how to cook.

Tonight was your breaking point. You walked in through the door to your apartment, announced your arrival, and nothing. Usually, Nam-gyu would say something like a simple hello to acknowledge your presence.

But the apartment was deadly quiet. You were alone.

Something about the stillness of the lonely air made you want to slump down to the floor. Bricks were tied to your feet and you struggled to breathe.

You couldn't get to your room fast enough. There, you threw your bag down on the ground and flopped first face into your bed. To which you couldn't hold it in anymore, and you began scream-sobbing into your pillow.

You hated your life. You hated your shitty apartment. And your shitty job. And your shitty, loser roommate. And you were so fucking lonely. You didn't have many friends. Your family lived far away. You could only see your therapist once in a blue moon because of the unbelievable wait-times.

If it weren't for your cat, you'd be dead by now.

In the midst of your sobbing, you are startled out of your skin when you hear a knock on your door and you gasp, quickly wiping your tears. "What?" you called out. "Nam-gyu? Is that you?"

The door opened and there he was, Nam-gyu, leaning against your door frame with his arms crossed. He didn't say anything, which just added fuel to your breakdown, and a few drops of hot tears fell down your cheeks once again. You wiped them away, but they kept coming. "What the fuck do you want?" your voice wavered and cracked, blowing away your pathetic attempt at covering your lost composure.

"I can hear you all the way from my room," he responded. "You didn't even announce that you were home, so imagine how I felt when out of fucking nowhere I start to hear some woman crying bloody murder or some shit. So I came to check on you,"

Check on you? As in show concern? Yeah, right. You waved him off, shaking your head.

"Whatever, 'gyu," you choked. "Go check on me from somewhere else. I don't need your bullshit right now,"

You laid back down on your bed and stared at your closet, sniffling and whimpering with Nam-gyu's presence still looming from your doorway. You wanted to scream at him to get out, but you didn't have the energy. You didn't even flinch when you watched Nam-gyu kneel at your bedside, looking at you face-to-face.

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion, wiping at your runny nose. "What are you doing?" you asked him, voice pathetically small.

Nam-gyu clicked his tongue. "Well, since you're not cooking dinner tonight," he began. "I'm gonna order us some pizza. How does that sound? Would that make you stop crying?"

You sniffled. "Yeah... yeah, I guess,"

Nam-gyu clapped an awkward hand on your shoulder before he left your room, taking out his phone to put in the order.

You decided to lay there until the pizza came. And in a moment of rarity, you two ended up actually eating together.

For a night, you two were normal roommates.

[kaizzz]

Part ll

——

Part l Part ll Part lll

Title: The Bloom Beneath The Silence

—

It starts after a long training run.

You’re helping Tuffnut wrangle Barf and Belch back into their stall. The sun’s setting, your braid’s a mess, and your arms ache in a good way.

You’re laughing — really laughing — as Tuffnut nearly faceplants in a pile of wet straw. Again.

“That’s the third time this week,” you snort, tossing a brush his way.

“Gravity has a crush on me,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Can’t keep her hands off.”

You roll your eyes and keep brushing. Just another moment of chaos, laughter, ease.

You think you’ve hidden it well.

Until he speaks.

Quiet. Calm.

Too calm for Tuffnut.

“Y’know, your laugh sounds different when we’re alone.”

You freeze. Just for a second.

Then smirk over your shoulder. “What, you writing poetry now?”

“Pshh. Please. Poetry’s for people with fewer issues.”

He tosses straw at your face. You dodge it.

But he doesn’t drop it.

“I’m not asking what’s wrong,” he adds after a pause. “But I’ve seen you go quiet when no one’s looking. And you hold your chest when you think no one notices.”

You say nothing.

“And don’t give me that ‘forge dust’ crap again. It’s not forge dust if it happens in the middle of the woods.”

You slowly look up from your brush.

And he’s just standing there — no jokes, no dramatic poses. Just Tuffnut. Tall, crooked, a little too observant for someone who once tried to marry a rock.

“I’m not asking,” he says again, gentler this time.

“But if something is wrong… I got you, okay?”

You stare at him.

You could lie. Laugh. Say something sarcastic.

Instead, you just say:

“…Okay.”

And he nods. Like that’s enough.

For now.

⸻

Later that night, you press a cloth to your nose again.

You don’t cry.

But it’s the first time someone’s seen you in weeks.

Even if they don’t know what they’re seeing.

—-

You’re sitting on the edge of the docks, boots dangling just above the water, sharpening a blade you haven’t had reason to use in days.

It’s peaceful here.

Until Astrid drops down beside you, relaxed in a way few people ever get to see her.

You don’t mind the company. She’s quiet at first, like you are.

The waves lap. The whetstone scrapes.

And then, casually, like it’s nothing, she says:

“So… Snotlout and Minden, huh?”

Your hand stills. Just briefly.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. “What about them?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Just seems like it’s becoming a thing.”

You force your hand to keep moving, the soft scrape of metal against stone covering the silence between her words and your thoughts.

“I mean, he’s different around her,” she adds. “Less performative. It’s kind of… nice.”

You nod. Just once. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Because it does.

Minden is calm. Kind. She listens. She fits.

Astrid doesn’t see the way your grip tightens. The way your jaw clenches before you breathe out through your nose and keep sharpening.

“You okay?” she asks suddenly, glancing at you.

You smile, easy. Perfect.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She doesn’t push.

No one ever does.

⸻

Later, you pass by the stables.

You don’t mean to stop.

But there they are.

Snotlout and Minden,

She’s laughing. He’s close. Too close. Not quite touching, but it’s the kind of space two people leave when they want to be touching.

She leans in. He doesn’t pull away.

You don’t hear what they’re saying.

You don’t need to.

⸻

You keep walking.

You go straight to the forge. You don’t work. You don’t build. You just sit on the bench in the far corner, back to the wall, arms around your knees.

Your chest feels like something heavy’s sitting on it.

Not enough to break you.

Just enough to keep you from breathing deeply.

—

You’re sitting outside the forge, staring at the ocean.

Not doing anything. Not fixing. Not working. Just… being.

It’s late. Everyone else is either asleep or pretending to be. The night air is cool, salt-wet, and soft against your skin.

You don’t hear Tuffnut approach.

But then he’s there. Dropping down beside you without a word, plopping a small, half-burnt muffin in your lap.

“Peace offering,” he says. “For no reason.”

You raise a brow. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you look like the kind of person who needs a muffin anyway.”

You don’t argue.

You don’t eat it either.

You just let it sit there between you, warm against your leg.

⸻

He doesn’t speak again for a while. He just hums something tuneless, rocking back and forth with his knees pulled to his chest.

Eventually, he says, quiet:

“Still not asking.”

You nod.

“Still not ready to tell you.”

He shrugs like it doesn’t hurt. “Cool.”

A beat passes.

Then—

“…But I’ve been getting nosebleeds.”

Your voice barely breaks the silence.

It’s so quiet afterward you almost pretend you didn’t say it.

But he turns to you, eyes a little wider, softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“That why you’ve been skipping lunch?”

You shrug.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t tell anyone.

He just… stays.

⸻

You lean your head against the wooden post behind you, eyes closed, voice small:

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then I won’t.”

A pause.

“But if you do?”

You glance sideways.

He’s looking out at the water.

Not at you.

Not making it harder.

Just there.

“I’ll still be here.”

⸻

You don’t say thank you.

You don’t cry.

You just let the silence stretch.

For once, it feels safe.

—

It’s sparring day.

The sun’s out, the sand’s dry, and the Edge is alive with motion — swords clashing, dragons roaring overhead, voices barking orders and laughter from every direction.

You’re paired with Astrid. Fast. Ruthless. She doesn’t hold back.

That’s why you picked her.

You need the distraction.

And you keep up. Mostly.

Until halfway through the match, you misstep. A spin too fast, a parry too high. You recover — barely.

But then it hits you.

A hot pulse in your face.

A familiar sting in your sinuses.

You pause, eyes narrowing, head swimming. You blink, steady yourself—

—and that’s when Astrid knocks your blade from your hands.

“(Y/N), you okay?”

You step back. Nodding quickly. Too quickly.

“Fine. Just—distracted.”

She frowns, studying you. But lets it go.

You bend to pick up your sword.

And a droplet of blood hits the sand.

Bright. Red. Stark against the pale grit.

⸻

You wipe your nose with your sleeve like it’s nothing.

Like you’re fine.

But someone sees.

“Hey—whoa, you’re bleeding.”

Tuffnut. His voice is closer than you expected. He’s halfway across the ring before you can even respond.

You press your sleeve tighter to your nose. Shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Just dry air. I’m fine.”

But your hand trembles.

And that’s when you realize: Snotlout’s watching.

He’s standing off to the side with Minden, half a laugh caught on his face like it got stuck in his throat.

You meet his eyes for a second.

And you see it.

The hesitation.

The concern.

The confusion.

He takes a step forward.

But Tuffnut is already there — hand at your back, steady, quiet.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You don’t protest.

You don’t even look back.

And Snotlout?

He doesn’t follow.

—

Snotlout POV

He stop thinking about the blood.

It wasn’t a lot. Barely a smear across your sleeve. But it wasn’t normal. And the way you brushed it off, like it was nothing — that’s what unsettles him most.

Because you don’t just brush things off. Not when it’s real. Not when it matters.

And yet, you didn’t even flinch.

You didn’t look scared.

You looked… resigned.

⸻

He meant to check on you.

After training.

After the others had left.

But by the time he got to the forge, you were already gone.

Tuffnut said you needed rest.

Snotlout just nodded and didn’t ask questions.

Not out loud, anyway.

⸻

The next day, you’re back at it.

Flirting with Tuffnut. Sparring. Laughing.

Business as usual.

But now? He’s watching you differently.

He notices the pause you take before swinging. The second longer it takes to catch your breath. The way your hand lingers at your ribs when you think no one’s looking.

He doesn’t say anything.

Because what would he even say?

“Hey, I noticed you bled on the sand yesterday and looked like you might pass out. Wanna talk?”

You’d laugh in his face.

So instead, he watches.

Quiet. Careful.

And for the first time, he finds himself wondering—

When did you stop looking at me?

Because you used to.

He remembers that now. How your gaze used to linger when he talked, even when you rolled your eyes. How your laugh sounded different when it was meant for him.

Now?

You look at Tuffnut.

And whatever you’re holding inside… it’s not meant for Snotlout anymore.

⸻

That night, he stares at the ceiling of his hut, arms folded behind his head, jaw tight.

He doesn’t understand why it bothers him.

Why he keeps replaying your expression after the nosebleed. Why it stings that Tuffnut got to you first. That you let him.

He tells himself it’s nothing.

That you’re fine.

But the feeling in his chest says otherwise.

And it won’t go away.

—-

You find him waiting outside the forge.

It’s rare, seeing him without the usual bravado. No puffed chest, no cocky smirk, no bad jokes about how the flames match his “smoking hot personality.”

Just Snotlout.

Quiet. Fidgeting with the strap of his bracer.

You stop a few feet away, holding a pouch of freshly sharpened arrowheads.

“Hey.”

He looks up, like he wasn’t expecting you.

Even though he clearly was.

“Hey,” he echoes. Then pauses. “You… feeling okay?”

You smile.

Soft. Reassuring.

Because you know what he’s thinking about.

Because you know what he saw.

“I’m fine, Snotlout. Really.”

His eyes search your face. Not like he doubts you. More like he wants to believe it — needs to.

“It just looked bad. The nosebleed, I mean.”

You nod, stepping past him into the forge. You set the pouch down gently.

He follows, hesitantly.

“If there’s something going on, you can tell me, y’know,” he says, voice lower now. “You don’t have to act like it’s all—”

“I’m not acting.”

You turn to face him, calm and steady, voice warm but measured.

“It’s nothing serious. Just the forge, maybe some stress. I’ve been pushing too hard.”

That last part? Not a lie.

Just not the whole truth.

He exhales, relief softening the worry in his face.

And it kills you, a little.

Because he looks so glad to believe you’re okay.

And you hate how much it hurts to lie to someone you still love this quietly.

“You sure?” he asks again.

You nod.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Snotlout. I’m tougher than I look.”

He chuckles — just a little. And for a moment, he looks like the boy you used to dream about when you thought maybe he’d see you.

He gives you a smile. Not the flirty kind. Not the loud, showy one he gives everyone else.

A real one.

“Yeah. I guess you always have been.”

You smile back.

But when he leaves…

You press your hand to your ribs again, just below your heart.

And you breathe slow.

Because if he’s relieved, then you’ve done your job.

—

He should feel better.

You told him you’re okay.

You smiled — not forced, not fake — and said he didn’t have to worry.

You even made a joke about being tougher than you look.

And Snotlout believed you.

He did.

He’s always been good at accepting what people say, not questioning what they don’t.

So why is he still lying awake?

⸻

He keeps replaying the moment in the forge.

The calm way you answered. The way you looked him in the eye. How your voice didn’t shake.

It all felt real.

But the more he thinks about it…

You never used to look at him like that.

Like you were keeping him at arm’s length.

Like you were comforting him instead of letting him comfort you.

He hates how long it took him to notice that difference.

⸻

Minden finds him the next morning near the cliffs, watching the sunrise and picking at a cracked piece of dragon armor.

“Didn’t think you were a sunrise type,” she says, sitting beside him.

He shrugs. “I’m not. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

She bumps her shoulder against his. “Thinking too hard? That’s dangerous territory for you.”

He laughs, but it dies quickly.

She watches him a moment.

“You okay?”

He looks at her.

She’s kind. Easy to be around. Likes him in a way that doesn’t make him feel like he’s got something to prove.

But she’s not the one stuck in his head.

“Do you think…” he starts, then stops.

Minden tilts her head.

“What?”

“…You think someone could be hurting and still act totally fine? Like, not just hiding it, but like… convincing you they’re fine even when they’re not?”

She blinks.

“Yeah. All the time.”

“You’re talking about (Y/N), aren’t you?”

He looks away. “She said she’s fine.”

Minden’s quiet.

“She also looked like she was about to collapse in the sparring ring. People don’t usually bleed out of nowhere for fun.”

Snotlout’s jaw tightens.

He hates this feeling. Of not knowing. Of realizing he might’ve missed something important.

Of wondering when you stopped needing him — or if you ever did at all.

“I just… I don’t get it,” he mutters.

“She used to tell me stuff.”

Minden’s voice is gentle.

“Maybe you stopped being the one she trusted to tell.”

He doesn’t answer.

Because he doesn’t know if that’s true.

Or if it just hurts to consider that it is.

—

You wake up with your throat already raw.

Not from sleep. Not from yelling.

Just… tight. Like your lungs forgot how to breathe overnight.

You sit up slowly, hands trembling slightly as you press them to your ribs.

Still no petals.

But the cough that comes next drags something up anyway — not quite blood, not quite clean.

You spit quietly into a rag.

Wipe it away before your dragon stirs beside you.

⸻

Later, by the cliffs, the sky is pale and overcast. A perfect day for hiding.

You sit with your journal open but untouched, pen hovering over the page.

You think about writing to yourself.

You think about the moment in the forge, when Snotlout looked at you like maybe — maybe — he still saw something in you.

Then you remember how fast he left after you told him what he wanted to hear.

He believed you.

Because it was easier.

Because you made it easier.

And that’s what you do, isn’t it?

Make things easier for everyone.

Even when your lungs are a battlefield and your hands keep shaking during patrol.

⸻

You glance toward the main camp and see him — talking with Minden again, their shoulders close, her hand brushing his arm in passing.

You look away.

You don’t flinch.

You don’t react.

You just write:

Day 5: symptoms lingered past noon.

No nosebleed. Coughing worse.

Hid it.

Tuffnut knows something.

Snotlout suspects nothing.

That’s how I want it.

If he ever looks again, I want it to be because he chose to.

Not because I was breaking.

⸻

You tuck the journal away. Not because it’s done.

Just because you can’t stand to read your own handwriting anymore.

—

It happens fast, the next symptoms that is. Just a scouting mission, nothing risky. Until it happened.

You’re in formation, high over the canyon ridge. A simple recon mission — until it’s not.

The ambush comes from above. Arrows cutting through the air, dragon shrieks echoing against the stone walls.

Chaos explodes in seconds.

You veer hard to the left, narrowly dodging a bolt meant for your shoulder. Your dragon jerks midair, roaring in pain as a grazing hit slices across their wing.

You’re fine. You’re okay.

You move to recover — but then another arrow cuts too close. You twist—

—and lose your footing.

Your fingers miss the saddle straps. Your foot slips. The world tilts.

And you’re falling.

⸻

Everything slows.

You hear the wind rush.

Your dragon’s roar as they twist, trying to follow.

And out of the corner of your eye — just as the weightlessness hits — you see her.

Minden.

Falling, too. Hit square in the ribs. Razorwhip spiraling.

And Snotlout?

He dives.

No hesitation. No looking around. No second thoughts.

Straight for her.

Like instinct. Like gravity.

Like choice.

⸻

And that?

That’s the moment.

Not the impact.

Not the sky.

Not the arrow.

That.

That’s what rips you open.

Because you don’t expect him to choose you.

Not anymore.

But now… now you know he wouldn’t.

⸻

You close your eyes.

You don’t scream.

You don’t panic.

You just… let go.

The air feels cold against your skin. Your heartbeat slows.

And for a second, a small part of you thinks:

Maybe it’s easier this way.

—

Then someone grabs you.

Hard.

Arms around your waist, sharp jerk upward, wind blasting in your face.

You gasp — the first breath you’ve taken in what feels like forever.

And then you hear him.

“You’re not dying on me, you hear me?!”

Tuffnut.

Of course it’s him.

Of all people. Of all moments.

It’s Tuffnut who dives.

Not as a statement. Not as a symbol.

But because he saw you.

Because he looked.

⸻

He lands rough. Messy. Both dragons scrambling. Your knees hit the dirt hard, vision flickering white at the edges.

Your chest heaves. Your throat burns.

You cough — once, twice.

You taste blood.

And Tuffnut doesn’t say a word.

He just holds you up, arms steady as the world spins.

“I got you,” he mutters.

“Even if no one else did.”

—

You’re sitting against a boulder, knees pulled to your chest, Tuffnut crouched in front of you, arms braced on either side like a human barricade.

You can’t breathe right.

Your ribs ache like they’ve been splintered from the inside, and every inhale feels like swallowing shards.

Your vision pulses.

Your ears ring.

And then it happens — a thick, wet cough tearing up your throat. You barely manage to turn your head before the blood hits your glove.

“Okay. Okay, it’s okay—”

Tuffnut’s voice is shaking now, but his hands are steady.

He doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t yell.

He just moves.

Puts himself in front of you, back to the canyon, blocking the view of the others regrouping in the distance.

“Don’t let them see,” you rasp, voice barely audible over the static in your ears.

And he nods.

Because he understands.

He ducks lower, making his body wider, hunching protectively to hide you.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching up with one sleeve to wipe blood from your chin, “You’re good. You’re okay. No one’s looking.”

But that’s a lie.

Because he is.

And what he sees now terrifies him.

⸻

You feel something warm drip past your jaw.

You touch your ear.

More blood.

And something inside you folds.

But not aloud. Not externally.

Because if you start to cry now — if you fall apart now — you won’t come back from it.

So you bury it. Again.

And Tuffnut doesn’t stop you.

He just sits with you like a wall, like a shield, like a friend who knows better than to ask questions you’re not ready to answer.

⸻

In the distance, someone calls your name.

It’s Snotlout’s voice.

You stiffen.

Tuffnut looks at you.

“You want me to tell him you’re fine?”

You nod. Quickly. Almost too quickly.

And Tuffnut stands up, cracks his back like nothing happened, throws a thumbs-up over the ridge and yells,

“All good over here! Just a little tumble!”

No one questions it.

No one comes closer.

Because they believe him.

⸻

He crouches beside you again once they’re gone, face serious in a way that feels wrong on him.

“This is bad, huh?”

You nod once.

Just once.

“You gonna let me help?”

Another nod.

But only him.

Only him.

—

Tuffnut hut is empty, but you don’t sleep on it.

You’re sitting on the floor instead, back pressed against the wall, blanket around your shoulders, knees tucked up to your chest.

It’s well past midnight.

The fire’s burned low. The air smells faintly of herbs and metal. The room is still.

Tuffnut sits across from you, legs crossed, braid undone, gaze tired but steady.

He hasn’t asked questions. Not since the fall.

He doesn’t need to.

⸻

You’re the one who breaks the silence.

“I think I know what this is.”

He doesn’t move.

But his whole body goes still, like he’s holding his breath.

You swallow around the ache in your throat.

“It lines up. The chest pain. The coughing. The bleeding. The way it only started when…”

You trail off. You don’t need to finish.

He already knows what you mean.

“It’s… stupid,” you murmur. “My body’s trying to kill me because I love someone who doesn’t love me back.”

Tuffnut says nothing. Just watches you.

Gives you space.

You let the words sit between you for a moment before continuing.

“If I’m right… and it is hanahaki… I’ll need to do something about it soon.”

You don’t look at him when you say the next part.

“There’s a procedure. Removal.”

“You’ll live,” he says softly.

You nod.

“But I won’t be able to love again. Not the same way.”

It doesn’t sound dramatic. It doesn’t sound like a tragedy.

You say it like a fact. Like a plan. Like choosing a path in the woods because it’s the only one not on fire.

“I don’t want to die over something that was never mine to begin with.”

Tuffnut exhales slowly, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That’s heavy.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Almost.

“Yeah.”

Another silence. Long. Gentle.

Then—

“If you do it,” he says, “I’m not gonna tell you it’s wrong. I’m not gonna try to stop you.”

You look at him.

“But just so you know—if you ever want someone to remember what you felt, or who it was for…”

He lifts a hand, taps his temple.

“I’ll hold it. In here. As long as you need.”

You feel something tighten in your chest — not pain, not love — but something close to comfort.

Something that makes the room feel just a little warmer.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods.

And neither of you says anything else for a long time.

—

He didn’t think much of it at first.

Just another sparring injury. Another fall. You’d brushed it off. Tuffnut had waved and shouted something dumb about “catching like a hero.” Everyone moved on.

But it’s been different since then.

You’re different.

Still the same laugh. Still that dry, sharp wit that cuts through training tension like a blade.

But you don’t laugh with him anymore.

Not like you used to.

Now it’s Tuffnut.

You walk beside him after missions. You sit with him during meals. You nudge him when he says something dumb instead of rolling your eyes like before.

And maybe no one else thinks twice about it.

But Snotlout?

He notices.

Because he remembers that mission.

He remembers diving — not for you.

For Minden.

⸻

He’d seen you falling.

Just for a second.

A shape tumbling through the sky.

But then he saw Minden, bleeding, screaming—

And he chose.

He told himself it wasn’t a choice.

It was instinct.

But now?

Now when he sees you look at Tuffnut the way you used to glance at him?

He wonders if maybe that was instinct too.

⸻

He remembers the way Tuffnut held you afterward.

How protective he was.

How he didn’t joke.

And you? You let him.

Didn’t push him away.

Didn’t say “I’m fine” with that smile you always wore for Snotlout.

You just let Tuffnut see you.

⸻

Today, he watches from a distance as you sit near the forge, leaning against a crate, laughing at something Tuffnut’s saying.

You look tired, but not unhappy.

And he tells himself that’s what matters.

But a voice in the back of his head whispers something he doesn’t want to hear:

You didn’t catch her.

He did.

—

—Snotlout’s POV

He notices it again during training.

You’re moving slower.

Not limping, not obviously hurt — just a half-step off. Just enough to make someone like Astrid frown. Just enough to make Snotlout watch you closer.

But before he can say anything, Tuffnut steps in.

Literally.

Slides between you and the others, claps a hand on your shoulder, cracks a joke about “muscle fatigue” and “too many hero landings,” and shifts the group’s focus instantly.

And you?

You smile. Play along.

Like always.

But Snotlout sees the way you lean into Tuffnut’s side just a little.

Like you’re steadying yourself.

⸻

He pulls Tuffnut aside later.

He doesn’t plan to. It just happens.

The words come out before he can stop them.

“She okay?”

Tuffnut’s whole posture changes.

He doesn’t joke.

Doesn’t smirk.

Just studies Snotlout for a long, quiet second.

“She’s handling it.”

It’s not an answer.

Snotlout crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t need to worry.”

Snotlout frowns. “Since when do you get to decide that?”

And then Tuffnut does something rare.

He drops the act.

No grin. No sarcasm.

Just quiet intensity.

“Since I caught her when you didn’t.”

Snotlout’s breath hitches — just slightly.

And Tuffnut doesn’t press. Doesn’t shout. Doesn’t accuse.

He just says:

“You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you don’t get to ask questions now just because you’re finally looking.”

Then he turns and walks off, back toward the forge.

Back to you.

⸻

Snotlout stays where he is for a long time.

Listening to the waves crash, watching the sky darken.

And for the first time in a long time… he doesn’t know what to do.

Because someone else saw you falling.

And they were fast enough.

-

You’re fine.

You keep telling yourself that.

The coughs aren’t as bad this week.

The blood’s less frequent.

The pressure in your chest? Manageable.

You’ve gotten better at hiding it. At knowing when to disappear and how long you can fake it before the shaking in your limbs betrays you.

But today?

Today is harder.

—-

The training ground is loud. Dragons circling. Blades clashing. Snotlout laughing at something Ruffnut said.

You’re helping Fishlegs with gear repairs, sitting on the edge of a crate, hands moving slower than usual, fingers not quite gripping the buckles right.

You feel it before it happens — that familiar flutter deep in your chest, like wings beating too fast inside your ribs.

You close your eyes. Breathe shallow. Wait for it to pass.

It doesn’t.

⸻

Your lungs seize.

A cough claws its way out of you, sharper than expected. You turn away quickly, into your sleeve, forcing it down. But the second one comes harder.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Focus. Control it.

But your vision’s blurring.

The sun feels too bright.

And something warm drips past your lip.

Blood.

⸻

Not now.

Not here.

You stand quickly — too quickly — and stumble.

Someone’s voice calls your name.

Not Tuffnut. Not yet.

Someone else.

You wipe your mouth and keep walking.

One step. Two. Around the edge of the shed, out of sight. You press your palm against the wall to steady yourself, willing your heart to slow down.

Your ears are ringing.

But you’re not going to fall.

Not again.

⸻

A shadow stretches across the ground beside you.

You look up, breath catching.

Tuffnut.

Of course.

He doesn’t speak. He just steps in front of you like a wall again, glancing once toward the sound of Snotlout’s voice somewhere nearby.

“He saw you coughing,” Tuffnut murmurs. “You want me to cover it?”

You nod.

Wipe your mouth again.

“Please.”

And just like that — he turns, walks back around the corner, throws a ridiculous fake coughing fit of his own loud enough to draw attention.

“Fishlegs! You ever inhaled yak fur by accident?! Asking for a friend!”

Laughter follows.

Distraction achieved.

⸻

You lean your head back against the wall. Chest burning. Hands shaking.

Almost.

You almost didn’t make it.

And the worst part?

No one would’ve known why.

—

It’s late when you finally sit down.

Not in your hut. Not in the forge.

But at the edge of the cliffs, where the air is cooler and no one thinks to look.

Except Tuffnut.

He finds you easily.

Of course he does.

He doesn’t speak right away. He just drops down beside you, cross-legged, his braid half-undone and an entire bread roll sticking out of his mouth.

You snort softly.

He tears it in half and holds the rest out to you without a word.

You take it.

⸻

You eat in silence.

The breeze pulls gently at your sleeves. Your head still aches. Your ribs are sore.

But it’s bearable.

Because for once, you don’t have to pretend.

Not here.

Not with him.

⸻

“You looked worse than usual today,” he says eventually.

You hum. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

You sigh. Lean your head against his shoulder — not because you’re fragile, not because you want comfort, but because you’re tired.

“It’s getting harder to hide,” you admit.

He’s quiet for a beat too long.

“You should tell them.”

You shake your head.

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

You shrug.

You don’t say:

Because I’m not ready for them to look at me with pity.

Because I don’t want Snotlout to look at me and feel guilty instead of—

You just shrug again.

Tuffnut doesn’t push.

He never does.

⸻

You watch the ocean turn to silver under the moonlight.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d feel like,” you say, “to be the one someone runs toward?”

Tuffnut doesn’t answer right away.

Then, soft:

“You’re the one I ran toward.”

You close your eyes.

Not because it hurts.

But because that’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to you in weeks.

⸻

You don’t cry.

But you let the silence wrap around you like a blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you feel warm.

Not whole.

Not better.

But warm.

—-

The cliffs are quiet again. Same spot. Same view.

Only this time, you’re the one who speaks first.

“I’ve been thinking more about the procedure.”

Tuffnut stops fiddling with the flower he’s been weaving into a crooked crown and looks up.

“Yeah?”

You nod, slowly. Carefully.

“If I want to live… it’s probably the only way.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“But it’s risky. Not just the surgery itself. The way it affects you.”

You draw in a shallow breath, your fingers curling slightly around the edge of your sleeve.

“If it works… I’ll survive. No more coughing. No more blood. It’ll all be gone.”

You glance down at your lap.

“But so will the love.”

He stares. Quiet. Processing.

“Like… all of it?”

You nod.

“The one I have now, yes. The rest…” You pause. “It’s different for everyone. But most never feel it the same way again. It’s like… a part of your heart just goes numb.”

Tuffnut frowns.

And then, he laughs — not like he’s mocking you. But because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“You’re telling me you either die loving… or live without it?”

You smile faintly.

“Pretty poetic for something that’s going to require a surgical cut to my lungs.”

He shakes his head, fingers tightening in the half-woven flower crown. His voice drops.

“You shouldn’t have to make that choice.”

You don’t respond. Because there’s nothing to say.

Not when he’s right.

⸻

You close your eyes, letting the breeze move through your hair.

“If I do it… I need you to understand something.”

He looks over.

“What?”

“I won’t be able to love anyone again.”

The words come soft. Flat. Final.

“Not like that. Not deeply. Not fully. Not the way you deserve to be loved back.”

Tuffnut swallows. Hard.

You don’t mean it romantically — but the weight of it still lands.

“It won’t be your fault,” you add.

“But it will be gone.”

⸻

He’s silent for a long time.

Then he sets the broken flower crown beside you.

“If that happens,” he says, “then I’ll love enough for both of us.”

You don’t respond.

But your throat tightens in a way that has nothing to do with your lungs.

—

The coughs come more often now.

You time them with the wind. With dragon roars. With Tuffnut’s loudest tangents. You’re strategic.

You’re careful.

But not even the best timing hides the pain in your chest when you take too deep a breath. Or the way your hands shake when you try to hold a quill for more than a few minutes.

Your hearing fades in and out, just for seconds at a time.

Sometimes you don’t notice right away — until someone’s lips are moving and you can’t hear the words.

You don’t say anything. Not even to Tuffnut.

Because you already told him enough.

And you’re not going to make him carry more than that.

⸻

You still smile. Still train. Still spar.

But you’re conserving now.

Not living.

Just… preserving.

A few more days. A few more laughs. A few more moments before you make your choice.

And when you look across the training ground and catch Snotlout watching you, eyes narrowed in that almost-worried way…

You offer a wave.

A smile.

Something easy to believe.

And then you turn away.

Because you can’t be the one to hold out hope anymore.

⸻

Snotlout

You should’ve stopped lying to yourself weeks ago.

You know something’s wrong now — you feel it in your gut.

It’s not just the coughing. It’s not just the fall. It’s not even Tuffnut standing too close anymore.

It’s the way you move. Like you’re bracing. Like your body’s not quite yours anymore.

And it’s the way you look at him now.

Like you’re trying to memorize him.

Like you’re getting ready to leave.

⸻

He watches you from across the courtyard as you help Astrid adjust her shield harness. You laugh at something. The same sharp laugh he used to hear up close.

Now he hears it from across rooms.

Why didn’t I notice sooner?

He doesn’t know if you’re mad at him.

He doesn’t know if you’re hurting because of him.

But he knows something’s slipping through his fingers.

And for the first time, he starts to feel something that tastes a little like fear.

—

You’re at the forge again.

Not working. Not crafting. Just… sitting.

Your tools are clean, untouched. The fire’s out. You’re just letting the warmth of the stones soak into your bones, trying to forget the cold that’s been creeping in underneath your skin for days now.

You cough once. Soft.

No blood this time.

Just tightness.

Still there. Always there.

Still unloved.

⸻

The door creaks behind you.

You don’t look up.

You already know it’s him.

���Hey.”

His voice is quieter than usual. Not the cocky bark you’re used to. Not full of jokes or arrogance.

Just… soft.

Worried.

“You’ve been off lately.”

You give him a look, one brow raised. “Since when do you notice things like that?”

He smiles faintly. Shrugs. Steps closer.

“Since it started to feel wrong when you stopped talking to me first.”

That hurts more than it should.

Because it means he only noticed when it affected him.

You chuckle softly. “Didn’t think you’d miss my commentary that much.”

“I do,” he says.

You look at him then.

Really look.

And his eyes… they’re not teasing.

They’re not flirty.

They’re concerned.

But not because he knows what this is.

Just because he doesn’t know anything anymore.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Like, really okay?”

Your heart stutters.

And your body answers before your mouth can:

Your ribs ache.

Your lungs throb.

You taste iron at the back of your throat.

Still here.

Still sick.

Still unloved.

You smile.

Gentle. Convincing.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

He stares at you. Searching.

Like he wants to believe it.

And he will. Because you made it easy.

“If you ever—” he starts.

You cut him off with a soft laugh.

“Snotlout, I’m not dying.”

Not out loud, at least.

He relaxes just a little.

“Okay… good.”

You don’t miss the way his voice catches.

And you hate how much that almost feels like enough.

But it’s not.

Because if he loved you—

If he really did—

This pain would be gone by now.

⸻

You walk past him, back straight, breath tight, and toss over your shoulder:

“See you at dinner?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

—-

He’s heading toward the stables when you stop him.

“Snotlout.”

He turns, blinking. “Yeah?”

You nod once toward the bench outside the forge.

“Sit.”

He tilts his head. “What’d I do now?”

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just sit.”

He does. A little confused. A little curious. The wind messes his hair as he flops down, arms crossed over his chest.

You walk up behind him without another word, fingers already reaching into your pocket.

He doesn’t flinch when you touch his hair. Doesn’t move.

He just… sits there.

Lets you gather the strands near the back. They’re still warm from the sun. Coarse and familiar.

You braid.

Small. Simple. Precise.

The way you always did your own.

“You’re not going to do something embarrassing, are you?” he mutters.

You roll your eyes — the smile in your voice masking everything you’re holding down.

“Your hair doesn’t look as messy like this,” you say, using the same flat, unimpressed tone you’ve always used when teasing him.

And then—without fanfare, without pause—you untie one of the thinner braids woven along the underside of your own hair.

You slip the strand loose. Tie it gently beside the one you just made for him. Not tight, but secure.

He doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t feel what you’ve just given him.

You give the braid a firm tug.

“There. Less of a disaster now.”

He snorts, rubbing the back of his head. “Didn’t know I signed up for a makeover.”

“You didn’t,” you say, stepping back. “Consider it a gift.”

He stands, brushing off his legs.

“Should I be worried about the next one being flowers and glitter?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’d make it work.”

He grins.

You smile.

And when he walks away — laughing to himself, braid swinging gently with each step — you let the wind tangle your fingers.

He doesn’t know.

He’ll never know.

But now?

He carries a piece of you.

Even after you let the rest go.

.

.

.

|Part lll soon|

Author note:

I cried like a train wreck writing this piece 😭

[zvahlne]

Lack of communication final boss; Garroth Ro'meave

I swear to Irene that guy needs to talk about this stufffff. Like yeahhhh obv in the finale he wasn't immediately angry and agressive after seeing aph and Laurance kiss, he was sad and heartbroken with no hurtful thoughts at all. But his refusal to communicate with those two aswell as him immediately trusting Lillian is what let us into a mess that could've been avoided had he talked to Laurance and Aphmau about ut rather then a strangerrr. And just getting talked into all this. Mcd Garroth is so smart yet so stupid sometimes

it's true, he's uniquely terrible at communication. but! as much fun as it is to simplify and poke fun at him (and yell at him GRR go talk to your friends stupid!!), it was actually a complicated situation. does that mean he was RIGHT? no definitely not. but i DO understand.

...understand for SEVERAL paragraphs!!! read more time

garroth has spent pretty much his whole life taught that he had to repress all his shit. that his feelings don't matter, at best, and are a hindrance and personal failing at worst. guards! bring out the meme!

haha yeah.

so he has spent YEARS, the MAJORITY of his life, repressing everything he's ever wanted. he's not allowed to want things. that's not what he's for. but... then there's aphmau. and she's bright and warm and cares about how he feels, what he thinks. she cares about him beyond his responsibilities and what he can provide - she cares about what he wants.

and then there's laurance, who's irritating but also bright and friendly and also cares about how garroth feels and what he wants. this is important: laurance knows garroth's feelings for aphmau, and has, in the past, backed off on (implied) request!

so maybe - just maybe - he's allowed to want something? would that be okay?

but then aphmau says, in no uncertain terms, not to him but right in front of him, that she's not looking for a romantic relationship right now... which... aw man... bummer... but maybe la--

oh... that's his best friend kissing his crush...... the same day..............

so that's. devastating. it's not just about "ah! someone kissed my crush before me!", it's "someone i trusted specifically not to do that behind my back has gone behind my back and done something he knows would devastate me."

it's also total whiplash from what aphmau just said earlier, and things switching up on you like that feels awful. aphmau was lying too...?

we all talk about garroth's betrayal but it is important to remember that he felt betrayed first! and in a very personal, heart-wrenching way! a way that cuts directly to the heart of all the healing and progress he's made. i mean look at him in this screenshot!! he doesn't even have his helmet on!!! it's scary but he's trying so hard to be more open with people because maybe, just maybe, it'll be okay. maybe he is allowed to have this... and then all his worst fears are confirmed! he put himself out there and it HURT!!! relapse, go!!!

of course he doesn't talk to laurance and aphmau about how he's feeling. to laurance, what would be the point? laurance has shown he doesn't care as much for garroth's feelings as he let on, because why else would he have done this? to aphmau, he can't, of course he can't. how shameful of him to think he could have her, to even want her. she deserves anyone other than Garroth Ro'Meave, and she's found him. it breaks his heart, but he can't fault her for that. laurance has always made her smile in ways he couldn't, because he was too scared, and too slow. laurance had said he wouldn't wait forever, but garroth didn't realize how much of a threat that really was...

i think he ends up turning to lillian because he can't turn to laurance or aphmau, but he's grown more used to talking about his feelings now. he needs an outlet, but no one in phoenix drop can be an option. he's either not close enough with them, or can't be seen in such a state in front of them, or they'll tell aphmau/laurance, or all of the above.

but lillian... he holds no responsibility to lillian; he's not her guard. she's not expecting that from him. lillian won't tell aphmau or laurance; she knows them no better than she knows him, why would she? and she's here. and she wants to help him. and she cares about how he feels.

and yeah, we, the audience, know she's obviously up to no good. but garroth doesn't, and his guard is down. he is in just the right place to be manipulated like this. unfortunately, it was all orchestrated very well...

so yeah, he was being stupid. but... i guess people do crazy things for love.

[xtarmanderx]

37. "Could he make you feel as good as I do?" Buck/Tommy

Day 5 of answering asks daily!

I am going to apologize now because this did not actually get written as smut. I had smut planned, but the fic wrote itself in a different way. Regardless, I hope you will still enjoy it! ❤️

finding our rhythm in the midst of a nervous breakdown

-

Buck’s nursing his third beer of the night. It’s been a quiet evening on his own for once, something he tends to avoid most days now before the intrusive thoughts can sink their barbs into him and tear him apart. But no one had wanted to join him for drinks after the shift from hell and so he found himself tucked into a corner booth, staring down at his beer as he chipped at the edges of the label with blunt nails. He’s barely an hour into his 72 off and he wishes he could volunteer for extra shifts, but Captain Han had given him a sharp look before Buck had even had the chance to open his mouth.

Sighing, he takes another sip of his beer and finds himself looking around the room. He’d decided on a place out of the way, far from his station and his temporary housing situation, with the hopes that he wouldn’t run into anyone that he knew. But now, in the dimly lit bar, his gaze falls across Tommy sitting in a booth with another man and his chest constricts. Rationally, Buck knows that there was always a chance that this could happen. Especially since he’s run into his ex more times than he wants to admit over the last few weeks.

It’s never awkward. Tommy’s always the first to break the tension with a dry joke or a comment that never fails to make Buck smile. He’s always been good at that kind of thing. The thing is that Buck still wants his ex. And they haven’t talked about it, not since that godawful fight in the kitchen that came from left field. Sure, they’d spoken briefly on the phone when he’d needed help saving Chimney’s life, but not about whatever still lingered between them.

Was it always going to feel this way? Was he going to feel an ache in his chest for the rest of his life whenever he thought of Tommy? And to see Tommy with someone else already, smiling like there’s no one else in the world when he looks at the other man? Buck feels jealousy hit him like a freight train and he forces himself to look away. When he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear Tommy’s laugh filtered through all of the other noise and the ache sharpens between his ribs.

[yeonmuse]

CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 1k w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

CHAPTER 27 | bikinis and self reflection

 

You’d gone through a roller coaster of a week  that seemed to wrap up in a way you hadn’t expected, but in all honesty there was no other way you’d rather have it end other than being asked out by Niki. He still had yet to tell you where the two of you would go or when it would take place but for once you weren’t worried, you allowed yourself to be curious.

“She may be okay with it but i’m not can we tell him to movee this along already.’’ Melody complains as she, you and Chaewon are all searching throught the same rack of swimsuits.

“We’ve watcheed him struggle to even get her to say yes, he took L after L. I'm pretty sure he’s planning some dramatic over the top shit, knowing him he likes to go overboard.” Chaewon retorts, moving over to another rack to scope out new options.

“Well  honestly I think it’s sweet he wants to take his time, he’s giving the two of you more time to explore each other before the date.’’ Chloe beams, she had been the most happy to hear Niki had asked you out because she had always waited for the moment someone would come and fill you with butterflies. She was also happy because she had been right about the two of you all along which meant she won the bet between herself, Aya and Jongseob.

“I’m honestly proud of him, honestly I didn’t even know he was seriously interested in anyone until Heeseung gave me all the details.” Sakoia joins in on the conversation from the dressing room nearby as she took in her appearance in the mirror.

While all of you gathered together as cheerful as ever to be hanging out with one another there was one girl there that was feeling slightly lonely. This was new to her, you being so easily open and willing to allow others into your inner circle so easily, yes she was happy that you were being more social and finally spreading your wings, but it made her feel smaller, not because of jealousy or the anxiousness of having you stolen away as her best friend, but because you had already been distant with her lately and she hated it. She knew that she had no one to blame but herself but this was agonizing. Being around you and not being able to know how you felt or what you thought about her anymore.

It wasn’t until all of you had successfully paid for your swimsuits and left for the food court that she decided to pull you  for a talk while everyone else scattered for food. After placing your orders you both head over to the fountain and take a seat.

“I just wanted to see where your head was at…I know we haven’t really talked since we all came over that day..” Mako asks, her eyes practically pouring into your own, a sense of anxiousness behind them.

“You know I forgave you, but it doesn’t mean that I could move on from that so easily, we won’t go back to how we were before, not after a week at least. It’s hard to do that knowing you not only lied to me but you used something you know i’m insecure about against me. It put me in a hard place because you’re my best friend, the only person I've known since I was four and I wish that you had trusted me enough to come and tell me your feelings.” Mako simply nods, she doesn’t speak a word, just lets you talk and in all honesty she doesn’t really know what to say because you were right.

“Most of all Niki didn’t deserve it, even if it didn't bother him. Even if he didn’t take it to hurt it was wrong and I took all of my frustrations out on him when he was nothing but good to me Mako. I get it, I understand your feelings I do, but it will never make it right. You need to learn to control your jealousy and your attitude or it’ll only make people distance themselves from you no matter how close you are. The other girls don’t even know how they should act around you now because they think you’ll get territorial, they don’t even know if they could bring up Niki’s name without the flip of a switc making you angry.’’ She couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than sit there and reflect as you spoke.

“I love you Mako, but I need more time and you need time to sort out your thoughts and reflect on everything that could have gone wrong if Niki never reached out to me that day.’’ you finish, your conversation being interrupted by the buzzer, signaling that your food had been ready. Pushing yourself up from the fountain you go to join the others leaving Mako trailing behind you still lost to her thoughts.

She wasn't aware that even his friends felt the need to walk on eggshells around her. When she though to tell her everything she heard without knowing the full story she didn't know what the severity of her actions would be. That entire time at the table while the others chattered and talked amongst themselves she couldnt stop thinking about how badly she had fucked up. She not only hurt you but she made it seem hard for others to approach her when things had never been that way with her.

The other girls could sense that there was something wrong but none of them said a word because it wasn’t their place. Chloe just rests a reassuring hand on Makos shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze. She also knew that mako was in the wrong too but she hated to see you both so distant from one another. She knew that you both were most likely hurting over this but she was alos fully aware of the severity of the situation. Youboth needed time alone, time apart from one another because it had always been Mako and yn since you were five years old, you’d never got to know what life was like without each other. And maybe that was the reason mako had done what she did, because all that time the two of you had been conjoined at the hip, you knew everything about one another. Even if Mako didn’t realize it, maybe she was just scared of someone she didn’t know taking you away and changing that.

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[omnom-obeyme]

Hey there! Could I get the demon bros with a gn!MC who's stretching the hell out on a couch, chair, just standing, or wherever else they are, and as they're relieving the tension in their body, they make one of those noises that could 100% be interpreted as sexual if you weren't watching them? Even if you are, it's damn suggestive, especially if it's paired with their back being arched, head back, and limbs shaking

Is it something they're doing inadvertently? Is it absolutely intentional? Only MC knows, but they're fine with it either way

Stretching Out

Pairings: the brothers x reader (separate)

Warnings: none, slightly suggestive

He's not surprised to see you lounging about like a lazy cat. You spend too much time with Belphie, anyway.

He's trying to have a civil discussion about the logistics of a student council event when you arch your back up off the couch and hit him with a "Mngh! Fuck...mm..."

His hands clench into fists, and he stares at you for a few moments.

"I'll...leave you for now. We'll continue this discussion later."

You've never seen Lucifer walk away from you so fast.

You wake up to Mammon in your bed, once again. He sneaks in as often as he can, so it's not an unfamiliar sight to see him sprawled out to your side.

Mammon stirs when you wake up, and his sleepy eyes gaze up at you. He watches you affectionately when you sit up and get comfortable.

When your back arches and your arms go out to your sides in an obscene stretch, Mammon almost bugs out. His eyes widen comically at the loud groan that escapes you.

"M-MC! What the hell is up with ya?"

You shrug and hop out of bed, content to start the day and wildly oblivious to Mammon's disbelief.

You and Levi are chilling in his room for a gaming marathon.

You've been sitting in one of his gaming chairs for ages without moving at this point, and you need to take a bathroom break.

You stand up wordlessly and put your hands on your hips. Levi tucks his head down against his chest and watches you shyly as you tilt your head and upper body back to stretch yourself out.

When you let out your little noise, he has to tuck his head down into his shirt to hide from you.

The poor thing can't even look you in the eyes when you come back from the bathroom.

Satan decided to take you out to a field known for its stray cat population as a date today.

You've been sitting down for quite a while. The cats are surprisingly friendly, though, so you've been happy to stay in place.

Eventually, your back gets so stiff that you have to stretch out. Your hands plant behind you, and you lean back in an arch. Your legs kick out as well, shaking subtly as you groan.

Satan watches you as you lie down in the grass as a cat hops up and settles on your belly.

He doesn't say anything, but affection and desire swirl around in his chest.

Asmo's had you contorted into different positions all day. What? You agreed to be a model for his new clothing line! It's only natural that he wants to emphasize the way the fabrics drape over you.

He tries to get you to turn your upper body toward the camera while your lower body stays put, but you have to take a break to stretch out.

You stand up and stretch your quads, but, when you feel Asmo's gaze on you, you can't help but get a little over the top.

Asmo bites his lip when you let out a stifled whine due to your back popping.

"Hmm, I think I have enough pictures, hon. Why don't you let me help you?"

You both love and hate going to the gym with Beel. You love it because you get to see him in all his glory, but you could do without the stiffness after a workout with him.

You're flopped on the floor, lying on your belly when Beel walks over to you. He sits next to you with his legs stretched out. He seems content, though.

Eventually, you have to bring yourself into a sort of modified downward dog to stretch out your abdominal muscles. "Ngh--god..." you groan before dropping back down onto the floor.

Beel's eyes trail back to you, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Do you need a massage, MC?"

Well...how could you say no to that?

You shift under Belphie with a sigh. He's been lying on top of you for hours, and you're getting extremely stiff. He wakes up when you shift him off of you.

Of course, he's ready to tell you off immediately, but the words die in his mouth when he sees the arch of your back and the way your neck gets exposed as you stretch.

When you let out a cute yawn and settle back into your pillows, he immediately rolls over to you. His face tucks against your neck, and he clings onto your waist.

"You're so cute, MC. But you're not going anywhere."

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