#I would have gone for something more muted. I would have had them be talking and/or arguing a little more in their old way

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t even fully know why but “what do I do when I miss you so much?” / “Just wait, and pray desperately” was a knife to my heart in the best way.

[reginamillls]

I Saw My Uncle Kissing Santa Claus

"You really gotta tell him man," Tommy hears Howie's voice coming into the kitchen from the hall. He's about to come in, but the answering voice makes Tommy stop.

"I know," Evan says, sounding odd. "I can't keep this a secret for much longer, it will just make things awkward for Tommy. He needs to be prepared for whats to come."

Tommy's brows furrow at that, and his palms feel sweaty all the sudden-

Things were going good between them, slow sure, but better then it was before. Stronger. This is their first Christmas together since their last one was spent apart and Tommy-

Is overthinking.

Tommy steps into the kitchen then and is met with two identical looks of surprise.

He's been caught.

"No time like the present, hey Buck," Howie grins as he claps Buck on the back before walking past Tommy. Howie then winks at Tommy, and any thoughts he had to worry melt away.

"You know you should really be the one to tell him-" Evan starts but Howie interupts him.

"You owe me big time, good luck, thank you!" Howie sing songs before he's stepping out of the kitchen, leaving a pouting Evan behind.

Tommy decides he just has to kiss that pout and Evan smiles against his lips before grabbing at Tommy's waist and bringing him in for a deeper kiss.

"You're-" A kiss. "Stalling."

"Okay," Evan admits. "I have something to tell you, and ah - I guess, I guess ask of you to." He starts, rambling. "And it-it's kinda cute?"

"Cute?" Tommy asks, raises a brow. "What-"

"Jee thinks you're Santa." Evan blurts out and Tommy's eyes widen.

Out of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them.

"She. Thinks. I'm. Santa."

"Yup." Evan pops the 'p' at the end.

"Um, why?" Tommy asks, and he's leaning against the counter now, confused at the turn of events.

"She has a list," Evan says and he pulls it out of his pocket to present it to Tommy. The piece of paper has Jee-Yun all over it, from the stickers of every genre to the glittery writing. It makes Tommy smile when he looks at it.

"Why Tommy is Santa-" Evan starts and he clears his throat, being a little dramatic.

"One. He flies." Evan starts and Tommy nods his head.

"I do fly-"

"And so does Santa," Evan pokes at Tommy's chest. "Can I continue?" Tommy makes a motion to do so, and Evan lifts the list off again to read it off.

"Two. Tommy took us to see reindeer, and Santa has reindeer." That was true, Tommy knew a guy who worked for the zoo and was on a team that was rehibiliating some reindeer. Tommy had taken Jee and Evan there a few weeks ago.

"Three. He has a long red coat." That one was a stretch, but Tommy wouldn't argue against it. He had a long wool coat for when he camps out in the mountains, and it was indeed red, though it was a more muted shade then he thought Santa would wear. Jee had seen it last week when she had been over for the night with her brother to give Maddie and Howie a night off.

"Four - and this is where it gets cute," Evan says, completely fond of both his niece and his boyfriend. "He has a big smile and he laughs and makes people happy."

"That's sweet," Tommy says, blushing. He ducks his head and Evan steps closer into his bubble, wrapping his arms around Tommy.

"There's more, like how you always remember what kind of gifts people want and ah-" Evan pauses briefly something that happens sometimes whenever their breakup came into the conversation. "You were gone last Christmas, and I think she thought you were busy."

"Being Santa." Tommy huffs, shakes his head. "Better than what actually happened."

They've talked about it, how Tommy threw himself into work to cope with everything. It wasn't healthy, but he's working on it.

Evan nods his head and the hand on Tommy's waist squeezes.

"She still believes," Evan says. "And with the baby this year, I think she feels a little left out. So when they got into Christmas folklore at school, I think she latched onto the idea that you were Santa. It's why she's been so shy today."

"Okay," Tommy nods his head. He gets it. Believing in something when things were a little difficult could get you through hard times. His old man had told him the truth about Santa when he had been young, and Tommy didn't have that little bit of Christmas magic growing up.

"Do you want me to tell her I'm not?" Tommy asks, undure what they should do here. Evan shakes his head then and Tommy relaxes.

"Chimney and Maddie want to talk to her about it, they just didn't want you to think she was ignoring you-" Evan grins. "I think she's trying to be on the good list. I've never seen her room so clean."

Tommy huffs out a laugh at that. He had thought it was a little strange that Jee hadn't come running to them for a hug when they came, but he figured that she was just being quiet for her brother's sake.

"And what list are you on?" Tommy asks Evan, voice low as his eyes dart over Evan. The other man snorts out a laugh then before he pulls Tommy in for a kiss.

"I think I've been on the good list, Santa-" Evan whispers in Tommy's ear.

Tommy tries.

He really does, but he lasts about two seconds before he bursts into laughter. Evan joins him then, and it feels good, laughing with his boyfriend.

"Uncle Buck?" Tommy hears, and he sees the very person they were talking about coming into the kitchen. "Can we play cowboys and princesses and aliens?" She asks and Evan straightens away from Tommy and he gestures as if he's wearing a cowboy hat, tipping it to Jee and the girl giggles in return.

"I reckon the Princess Cowboys have a lot to do before Christmas Evan tomorrow." Evan says in an exxagerated southern accent.

Tommy is completely charmed by him.

"Are you too busy to play Uncle Tommy?" Jee asks and Tommy feels like his heart skips a beat.

That was the first time Jee has ever called him 'Uncle.'

"Yeah, that sounds fun. Can I be a Princess?" Tommy asks and follows Jee and Evan back into the living area.

He prefers Unlce to Santa, anyday.

[fee224]

Dealing with it together

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

Growing up without the affection you so desperately yearned for has left you with some issues. But being with rafe had helped you slowly overcome your tiny issues and he sorted them by…

Attachment issues when you began to trust rafe, it was obvious. You had gone from being excessively independent, not talking to anyone about college options or restricting yourself on phone calls with rafe from telling him about the rituals of your day to day. But when you realised rafe meant no harm, he was interested, you had quickly became clingy. Following him to the kitchen for a glass of water, and forcing him into holding your hand while you sat on the toilet. Unfortunately this was one of rafes more preferred traits of yours, and wasn’t too fussed on fixing it.

Low self esteem it was obvious. From the way you’d go silent when he complimented you. Rafe was purposefully extremely gentle with you because of this. Sweet with you whether he was ordering when you couldn’t or encouraging you in every situation. He had perfectly constructed situations where he would tell you to go talk to kelce and kelce would be waiting under rafes orders to engage in small talk. Anything to prove to you that you were capable of anything you shyed away from.

Difficulty expressing emotions things had happened multiple times where you were uncomfortable or upset and would go mute instead of telling rafe. You never argued with anything he told you and sometimes it worried him. Times where topper would make a sexual innuendo and you would silently shift under rafes arm. Times where rafe would talk to someone for too long, forgetting to tell you to follow him and you would stare at him from the bar, waiting for him to come back. At the end of every night he noticed, he would sit you on his lap and force you to discuss it. “Baby when I’m talking, just come over kay? You know I never mind, you know you can talk to me right” you’d nod quietly until he comforted you just enough for you to tell him what exactly you were thinking, and each time he would just nod, as he brushed your hair with his fingers.

Social withdrawal it wasn’t just with his friends, you did it with everyone. You didn’t have friends and weren’t close with your sisters. He wanted you to have friends, and presumed you needed some kind of outlet. A temporary fix was shacking you with his friends. Making you tag along despite your insistence you were fine. Topper and kelce liked you, you were sweet and good for rafe, you would laugh at most of their jokes (when you understood them) and nobody would mind your pretty dresses hugging on your prettier body. But then he would be at the country club with you, pointing at the first girl he saw and suggesting you to go talk to her, but each time you would stare blankly, your mouth going dry before shaking your head terrified. At the end of the day, he had never met a girl like you and he had never met a girl good enough to be a friend of yours. You needed people to look after you, so his friends worked for the meantime.

Seeking validation one night laying in bed you had asked him what he would like, but then you asked again on another night. You didn’t care for what you wanted, you hardly even knew. You just knew you would try any position, any outfit, any dinner or dessert, anything he wanted to gain validation. He was scared about asking for anything. He didn’t want you uncomfortable but he knew you wouldn’t say no to him. He would give you all the praise you craved, he didn’t even think twice about it, assuring you that you were enough as you were. Your praise kink almost never went away, but turned into something more positive or healthy at least. Turning into thinking about rafe while shopping instead of literally begging him to use you however he wished.

Difficulty with intimacy at first the thought petrified you, being with anybody. But with rafe it was natural. He was sweet and it was as simple as that. It clicked. But then came the obsession with pleasing him. The way you were desperate for him to use you like he would anyone else, which usually ended up you passed out on the bed, laying on his chest, while he reassured you he wasn’t going to because he knew you couldn’t handle that. He wanted to, but he couldn’t treat you like that. Every time you would beg he would use all the self restraint he wasn’t aware he possessed.

Cycle of neglect one of your biggest fears was not being a good mother. Neglecting your child. You had opened up to rafe on one occasion when you were tipsy, brain fuzzy from rafes cologne as he whispered about babies and rings. You shook you head, biting your lips. “I want to I want to I just…. I don’t know” but he knew exactly what. But every time you picked your niece up, he’d smile knowingly as you cooed.

- fee xxx

[agere-fics]

cg!logan just shushing his fussy little. "shh shh I know kiddo. I know" with back rubs and ugh I think I just need to be shushed and cooed at right now

pairing: old man!cg!logan x little!reader

CWs: some angst, reader has a meltdown, but logan comforts them

word count: 0.6k

♡

you don't even know how you made it back home. it's even more surprising you made it back safe and sound. you were too lost in the void that is your mind, thinking of your past, your future, things that have gone wrong, stuff that still needed to be done. the present, your current reality wasn't anywhere near your consciousness. the entire trip home, your surroundings were fuzzed, voices were muted, the world dimmed.

why must it be so hard to just live, to be an adult? why were you so incapable of adulting?

you stood at the door frame, just standing there. your bag had fallen from your shoulder, landing on your elbow. your eyes were glazed over. nothing mattered anymore. you were gone.

you heard something, perhaps the freezer ice cube maker going off or the a/c turning on. it was fizzy and soft, barely there.

you heard it again. this time it was louder. it was coming from only a few feet away from somewhere out there.

blurred black spots came into view. it shocked your core and made you blink, the puzzle pieces linking themselves together. the black spots turned out to be black, leather shoes. large ones.

"daddy?" you slowly looked up, making eye contact with Logan. you didn't even realize you were speaking. "daddy…" your lip quivered. one tear flew down, then another… and another. they came out faster and faster until you had niagara falls on your face.

"hey there, bub, come here, come here." your daddy pulled you against him. you grabbed his white button down in tight fists and made a puddle of tears on his left shoulder. "it's okay, kiddo. i'm here."

"i'msorryi'msosorrydaddy!" you bawled. "'m sorry…" you squeezed your eyes shut and buried yourself deep into his chest. you held him tightly, so tightly you thought you'd melt into him.

"it's alright, pumpkin. i'm not mad. it's okay, you're okay." he mumbled into the top of your head, planting kisses on your temples and forehead. "sh, sh, sh, sh, sh." he rubbed your back. "it's okay, darling. you're safe, i'll take care of ya. shh, shh, shh." he let you cry, you needed this, he knew.

logan bent his knees a bit to reach his arm underneath your knees. he cradled you in his arms and brought you to the grey, leather couch. you buried your head in his neck, breathing in the comforting smell of his sandalwood fragrance. you commented one time on how much you liked it and now he never went without it.

he gently scratched your scalp and continued placing smooshes to your brow. "what happened today, bub?" he asked once you calmed a bit.

"i don' know, daddy. i jus', jus… idonknow-" your breathing began to quicken again.

Logan shushed and bounced you on his lap. "it's okay, you don't have to talk about it right now, pumpkin. breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out, bub, there you go. good job." he dragged your designated, fluffy couch blanket on top of you and loaded up soft lullabies on spotify. he remembered fondly how you showed him the app and your favorite safe stuff on there. he didn't care about newer technology stuff but after you told him how much it helped you, he was determined to learn them.

you fell asleep on his lap after about an hour. your daddy fell asleep, too. your weight on him was soothing, as was your music. you were so peaceful, it made him nod off.

daddy would always be there for you to keep you safe, keep you happy, and to comfort you. he was the best daddy ever.

♡

[keyotos]

➳ you're my achilles heel

summary ⎯ niche microtropes w/ the hsr men! emphasis on the micro (not rlly)

includes ⎯ dan heng, aventurine & jing yuan

tana talks ⎯ who's missed me? i've been gone for a HOT minute, and what other way to come back than kickstarting my 1k event: niche microtropes! more info about that will be here. thank you so so much for 1k!!!!

dan heng

when they both have to share a bed and one of them reveals it was the best night of sleep they've ever had

⎯ dan heng has made a lot of mistakes in his life, and letting march choose hotel rooms has to be one of them.

⎯ granted, he truly thought that march would do a good job at choosing the hotel, financial planning, and of course–choosing the rooms.

⎯ and everything was great. until you and dan heng had to share a bed.

you and dan heng shifted around the bed a few times before finally settling into designated spots. it was decided that dan heng would sleep on the outside, while you slept near the wall. his back faced you as he tucked himself into bed.

⎯ you and dan heng were friends. this awkwardness wasn't normal, and there should be no reason for the two of you to be avoiding each other like you are now. alas, here you are now, laying at least a foot apart.

⎯ the room is completely silent, and a bit cold as well. dan heng felt a breeze constantly grazing his shoulders. yeah. there was no way he could sleep like this

⎯ you, on the other hand, felt too hot. you had most of the blankets on your side and you felt SUFFOCATED. sometimes, it felt hard to breathe. but u weren't sure if that was just nerves or bc of how hot you felt.

⎯ ultimately, you are the one who has to make the first move.

"dan heng," you turned around and whispered, "are you cold?"

⎯ obviously, he was cold. but was he going to say anything about it?? no.

"i'm fine," he said, still facing his back towards you. "are you cold?" you gulped at the dry response. usually, you find yourself always wanting to talk to dan heng. he was never a boring converser, so why was he acting so strange tonight? but then again, you had no room to talk—you haven't said a word to dan heng until now.

⎯ at this point, you're a little frustrated at the lack of communication between the both of you. so—being the problem solver that you are—you decide to do something about it

slowly, you inch closer to dan heng—just to test the waters, of course. dan heng doesn't reach much, only a small head turn once he feels a dip in the mattress. you take some of the blanket and throw it over dan heng, awaiting his response.

⎯ meanwhile, dan heng over here is internally flipping out. when you inched towards him, dan heng could feel his heart skipping more than a few beats. and when you threw the blanket over him, dan heng wasn't sure if he felt warm due to the blanket or you.

⎯ when he finally turns over, you have to hide your wide eyes and slacked mouth underneath the blanket. you peer back up, and he's staring right at you.

"are... you okay?" you whisper underneath the blanket. "i'm cold," is all dan heng says. you hide your smile underneath the blanket, but you have a feeling dan heng knows you're smiling anyway. he's looking straight in your eyes after all.

⎯ and then you say it. you practically hit the pentagon.

you open up the blanket to where it reveals a dark silhouette of your body. "do you want to share?"

⎯ dan heng practically malfunctions. usually, there are always things dan heng says to fill the silence. he never runs out of words. not in a talkative way like march, but rather, he has an extensive vocabulary

⎯ this time though? haha. very funny. he's gone mute.

dan heng blinks at you while you hold the blanket open. you raise an eyebrow, taunting him. he squeezes his eyes shut, and then reopens them to find you still holding the blanket. was he halluncinating?

"i don't want to intrude." "oh please," you quietly laugh, "we're already sharing a bed. we crossed the line of intrusion a few hours ago."

⎯ and that sounds like a good deal to the both of you. except, one thing.

"are things going to change after this?" dan heng asks you. you're glad it's dark, so dan heng doesn't see you flush, "i don't see why things would change," you say, maintaining a calm face.

⎯ that's enough to get dan heng under the covers with you.

⎯ you two sleep wonderfully the rest of the night—you two even woke up early too. you were the one to wake up first. the sun shone on your face, yet you didn't even feel the glare at all. you felt energized, which was weird considering that you went to bed at questionable hour last night.

⎯ oh, and you also felt a pair of arms over your waist too. and something pressing into your neck. and something wrapping around your legs. and you also feel really hot. is that from the sun????

⎯ yeah. it's going to be harder to keep your word.

aventurine

those dancing scenes where it just so happens that the lighting focuses on the two of you

⎯ lavish parties and extravagant events weren’t new to aventurine, who just so happened to stumble on one of the biggest on penacony

⎯ sometimes, the families hold galas. it’s more of an exclusive thing, so aventurine had to do some awkward mingling in order to get in. that includes a very awkward conversation with a security guard, who kept raising eyebrows at his outfit.

⎯ beforehand, he had no interest in going to this event. however, once faced with the possibility that he could gather intel, his mind quickly changed.

⎯ now, he is standing right next to you, the heir to penacony's iris family. in his short time on the planet, he's seen your face countless times: on billboards, commercials, and next to various items. but seeing it in person?

⎯ way. different.

"you've never been dancing before?" you lead the ipc executive, aventurine, down the halls of the iris family's ballroom. aventurine shakes his head as he follows you, "not once. though, as the iris family's biggest celebrity, i take it you're used to dances?" your eyes widen when you hear him utter the compliment, "i'm... i'm not sure i'm the biggest celebrity," you rub your neck sheepishly. you tilt your head back, "and i don't think i can remember a time where i didn't dance."

⎯ aventurine has one goal tonight, and it's to get information about the families. if all goes according to plan, then he'd have the upper hand on penacony itself, thus being able to use his knowledge as a bargaining chip for the ipc.

⎯ and if there's one thing aventurine is good at, it's bargains.

⎯ so now, aventurine is trying his hardest to charm you into giving out any information. because people like you always talk.

"that must've been nice," aventurine eggs you on, "from what i can tell, parties on penacony are always fun." you let out a small laugh, "i'm glad you think that." the two of you walk side-by-side, and you aren't saying a single thing. aventurine flexes his hand by his side, preparing to make more idle chatter. he's about to open his mouth when a bright, shining light beams onto the both of you.

⎯ from the look on your face, aventurine can tell that you did not like that. he stands there passively, awaiting for your next move.

⎯ what he did not expect was for you to hold out your hand for him.

"um," you clear your throat. your eyes dart around the room and you gulp, holding out your hand, "may i have this dance?"

⎯ aventurine meets your nervous eyes with his wide ones. it looks like the two of you have no other choice. eyes are on the both of you when aventurine takes your hand, and you pull him into a quiet space in the ballroom.

⎯ let's get one thing straight: aventurine does not know how to dance.

⎯ so currently, he's trying to avoid stepping on your toes, while trying to remain in sync with you. on the inside, aventurine is annoyed. there are ears everywhere, meaning that there's a bigger risk. however, aventurine is all about risks, and the night is still young.

"i thought you liked dances," aventurine purposefully whispers into your ear, and he can feel the heat rise up. his voice is sultry and sweet, and he hopes to get you addicted to it soon. you look up at him with crinkled eyes. the light is glaring on you, and it seems like you're glinting instead of shining. "i never said that." aventurine takes notice of the rise and fall of your chest—much faster than when the two of you met. the corner of his lip raises a little bit, "oh, i'm sorry. but are you uncomfortable? i thought you've been doing this for years? let me know if i can do anything to help?" he offers.

⎯ you only smile, and aventurine gives you a polite smile back. he follows your lead, waiting for you to say something, but you only lead him around the ballroom.

⎯ the light is still trailing after you, except it's beaming more on aventurine than you at this point.

⎯ it's beaming more on aventurine. oh. he gets it now.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispers in your ear once again. he has to try his hardest to bite down the smirk that was about to appear on his face. this was going to be easier than he thought. you grab his hand in a tight hold, "no," you firmly state, "we're staying here."

⎯ wow. what a shift of tone.

"i need your help," you mutter under your breath. "help me, and i'll do anything," you look up into his eyes, pleading with him through your gaze.

⎯ aventurine nearly steps on your feet. what?

"uh–what?" aventurine questions you as you keep moving.

"sneak me out of here. we can't go through the doors—there's the bloodhound family everywhere. but i need you to get me out," you beseech. you grab his hand, bringing it up to your chest and slowly sliding it down to your waist.

⎯ aventurine has to remind himself to keep his cool multiple times. breathe in, breathe out. what were you getting at here? why did you want to escape?

"listen, what i said earlier. about the parties. i need to get out," you spin yourself around and back into the blond. "help me," you connect your palms as you circle him, "and i'll help you," you intertwine your fingers together.

⎯ the light still glistens over the both of you. and aventurine thinks two things: he's gotten into something he didn't need to get into, and that he finally has a way into the family.

jing yuan

second chance romance, except the two of you have been keeping tabs on one another the entire time.

⎯ jing yuan's childhood is filled of fond memories: his old master, the bright and sunny days when he would train, and you.

⎯ you, who jing yuan would willingly miss trainings for. you, the brilliant and clever reporter who broadcasted for the people. you, who jing yuan had to let go.

⎯ he'd spend days rereading what you've wrote; whether it be small stories or big news on the luofu. everything you had written intoxicated him. however, all good things have to end eventually.

⎯ the break-up wasn't even technically a break up, because you two weren't even together. the harsh reality was that you two were just friends, so jing yuan has no actual reason to be moping around. people lose friends all the time, and with jing yuan's lifestyle, it was bound to be imminent.

⎯ as the general, jing yuan had new priorities, and it seems like you weren't one of them anymore.

⎯ so, you move on with your career. you founded the xianzhou's very own broadcasting channel, which aired to the millions of citizens across all ships. you're a superstar who hasn't left their core values. rather than the big stories, you focus on local ones. you focus on the people.

⎯ and general jing yuan... focuses on his job. sort of. not really.

⎯ can you really say that a general is focused on his job when he goes missing?

"jing yuan," your side aches once you utter his name, and you suppress an agonized moan, "why are you here?"

⎯ you know what they say, old habits die hard.

⎯ the founder of the xianzhou's broadcasting channel was found in critical condition a few days ago. you had been reporting on the a civil case that had struck on one of the ships, and—next thing you know—blood ran from your fingertips and you rushed into a critical care unit.

"how did you even get here?" you ask as you lift yourself up higher on the bed. jing yuan steps forward, but you move back. "i haven't spoken to you in years. you cut me off, and then you show up now? can i atleast get an explanation on how you found me?"

⎯ jing yuan's silence tells you all that you need to know. you keep up with the dozing general, even if you are off the luofu. because still, even after all these years, your heart trails after him.

"i wanted to see you," jing yuan blurts. his voice is much more deeper than you remember it to be. "so i contacted the hospital and told them that my old friend was in critical condition, and i needed to see you." you scoff, "an old friend is a stretch." you pause and look down at your hands. and then, a thought furrows in your mind. "wait, if you knew where i was hospitalized—you read my articles?" "i've never stopped."

⎯ oh. oh? oh????

⎯ safe to say that you were rendered speechless. the next five minutes were spent by you staring at jing yuan, jaw-dropped and all.

"how long?" you asked. "too long," jing yuan dryly chuckles. "since i left."

⎯ the air is thick, and things are obviously tense. and there are so many things to talk about. so many things to tell him. such as how you've surfed before (it was a big dream of yours). or how you finally adopted the cat you always wanted (you hope he brings up his lion).

⎯ and while you sit there, you realize that you've missed this. how could you even live without this for hundreds of years? without him? was it surreal to feel so strongly about a person that left so long ago?

⎯ so many milestones missed. so many to make up for. so many things to talk about. so many things to clear up. and you still want to do it all with jing yuan.

⎯ does he still want to do it with you?

you clear your throat, attempting to sit up straighter. you're struggling, and you've never felt so embarrassed in your life. while trying to adjust yourself once more, you see a shadow appear above you, and it's the one and only jing yuan. "do you need help?" he asks, holding his arm out for you as support. you take it gladly, pulling yourself up by grabbing onto his (big) forearm. "thank you," you dust yourself off, checking your side for any rips in your stitches. "now," you begin, letting out a shaky breath, "i think... i think we're overdue for a chat."

⎯ you knew jing yuan. you'd like to know him now. jing yuan knew you too, and now—judging by the look on his face—he'd like to know you too.

god i've missed the hc's so much. like i'm truly going back to my roots here. be honest did y'all miss the hc's too or was that just me????

[sagesskies]

been reading a lot of qt bl recently, and this idea struck me:

imagine you've just transmigrated into a world where you're the second male lead's best friend, when him and the fl enter a rough patch in their relationship because seriously, that guy flirts with way too many girls despite being in a committed relationship, and this time the fl has had enough and breaks up with him.

the 2nd male lead just has a downward spiral, because he was super dependent on the fl, and you, doing your job as his best friend, give him words of encouragement, as you were instructed by the system. but when he, unexpectedly, asks you to do more than give him advice, and instead help him in the direct process of fixing their relationship, you can't exactly say no when he's asking you so pitifully with tears in his eyes.

so, you help him, concocting schemes to win the fl over, sabotage the 1st male lead, and the like. this is way more than the original best friend did, where he just said some encouraging words and then proceeded to dip out of the plot till the emotional climax where he gets hit by a car and the female lead and 2nd male lead supposedly "make up" and "date again" at least, till the 1st male lead wins her back over.

you're able to actually get closer to him as well, past the shallow mask that all humans don, and get to know him as more than just 'a playboy with unhealthy attachment issues'

you learn that he likes to play the guitar and sing, that he cries when watching romance movies, that his favorite color is purple, that he dreams of making a career out of his music, and that nobody ever believes he can.

but when you place your arm around his shoulder, and look deep into eyes and tell him that you do, you believe in him, you see the way that his eyes widen in surprise, and how tears start to well up in his eyes, but completely miss the way his cheeks start to redden.

you actually miss a lot of things. how he always remembers your coffee order, how he knows the way you like your eggs made, how he remembers your favorite show and movie, and knows your handwriting by how you write your m's.

you also miss how he wraps his arm around your waist, drapes his jacket over you when you get cold, and likes to loop his arms around your shoulders and cling to you like a koala does to a tree.

what you do notice is how he's stopped talking about the female lead as much, how he only asks you how you're doing, invites you out not to plan something but to instead just hang like friends would, and when you bring up how the female lead has started dating the 1st ml he just blinks, and then says "Okay, good for them," like he wasn't bemoaning how close they were only three months ago.

and what you are forced to see is that the only person he's feeling possessive over is you. he's always texting you, asking where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. he's glaring at anybody who even breathes in your direction, and one time your friends told you he threatened them to leave you alone.

slowly, you start to distance yourself from him. you decline his offers to hang out, you avoid him on campus, and have even gone so far as to mute his notifications because he's been sending you so many messages.

the system is alerting you of his unnatural behavior, and you tell it that you're very aware, and trying your best to get the story back on track. but by god, is he making this so hard.

it all comes to a head when you hear pounding at your front door, the sound muffled by the heavy downpour of rain, and when you open it you're, sadly, not surprised to see that it's the 2nd male lead, clothes soaked and sobbing, he's telling you he misses you. that he doesn't know why you're avoiding him, but whatever he did he's sorry for it.

"Just don't ignore me, please [Name]," he whines, "If you do, I might die!"

how will you get yourself out of this mess now?

[batboysanonymous]

Bird in a Cage

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Grief turned Y/N into a ghost of herself, drowning in the unbearable silence of a bond that should have shattered—unaware that her mate still breathed, just beyond her reach.

Continue reading below ⬇

Based on the song: BLUE by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

Mm, mm, mm I try to live in black and white, but I'm so blue I'd like to mean it when I say I'm over you But that's still not true (blue) And I'm still so blue, oh

The City of Starlight was quieter without him.

The kind of silence that did not soothe but suffocated. Velaris had always been a place of light, a sanctuary carved from the darkness, but now, it was a tomb.

Y/N barely recognized herself in the mirror anymore. Where her eyes had once shimmered with life, they were dull now, hollowed by grief. Her skin had paled, lips always cracked from the cold air she no longer cared to shield herself from. Even the bond—her soul’s tether to Azriel—was silent.

It should have broken the moment he died. Should have shattered inside her like glass.

But it hadn’t.

And she hated that it hadn’t.

A cruel, empty thing.

She thought maybe she had imagined it sometimes—the way her chest ached like something tethered her still. But that was just grief, wasn’t it? The way her mind refused to let him go, the way her soul still searched for him, as if refusing to accept the truth.

Her mate. Her husband. Her best friend. Gone.

She curled further into the window seat, a blanket draped over her shoulders, though it did nothing to warm her. Beyond the glass, Velaris glittered under the night sky, so full of life, of movement.

It was unbearable.

“Y/N.”

Rhysand’s voice was gentle, but she did not turn to look at him.

She knew how he saw her. Knew what he was thinking.

That she was slipping away. That she had already slipped too far.

“I brought you dinner.”

She swallowed, staring at the plate that appeared on the small table beside her.

It was her favorite meal. And she had no appetite.

She hadn’t for weeks.

“Eat,” Rhys pressed, lowering himself onto the armchair across from her.

She didn’t.

He sighed.

I thought we were the same (I thought we were the same) Birds of a feather (birds of a feather), now I'm ashamed

“Feyre is worried about you,” he said carefully. “We all are.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

A beat of silence.

Then, quietly—“The bond hasn’t broken.”

She stiffened.

Her hands curled into the fabric of the blanket, her nails biting into her palm.

“I don’t know why,” she admitted after a long moment, voice hoarse. “I should have—felt it. When he—”

She couldn’t say it.

Rhys was silent.

She turned, meeting his violet eyes for the first time in days. There was something there—something off.

Something withholding.

“… What?” she rasped.

Rhysand shook his head. “Nothing.”

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas A bird in a cage, thought you were made for me

She wasn’t sure why, but her stomach twisted.

But she let it go.

She had no more energy to fight.

The dream came again that night.

Azriel, standing just beyond the shadows, his hazel eyes locked onto hers.

He never spoke.

Never moved.

Just watched.

And she—she always ran toward him. Always reached for him.

But the moment her fingers brushed his, he would disappear.

Vanishing into smoke.

She woke with a start, chest heaving. The bond—it was there. She could feel it, feel him, but it was distant, muted—like something was blocking it.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

No.

No, she was imagining it.

This was what grief did.

It twisted things, made you believe in impossibilities.

Azriel was dead.

The bond hadn’t broken, and she would never know why.

You were born bluer than a butterfly Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen Colder than your father's eyes He never learned to sympathize with anyone

Rhys was tense when she found him the next morning.

Cassian and Feyre had just left, leaving the two of them alone in the townhouse.

“You’re hiding something.”

It wasn’t a question.

Rhys froze. “Y/N—”

“You’re hiding something.” Her voice wavered, her hands trembling as she stepped toward him. “I—why do I still feel the bond?”

His throat bobbed. “Y/N, I—”

Tell me he’s dead, she wanted to beg.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me I’m losing my mind.

But her brother only stared at her, guilt heavy in his gaze.

Something in her splintered.

Her breath came shallow, sharp.

“… No.”

Rhys’ lips parted, his expression softening. “It’s not what you think—”

“He’s alive?” Her voice broke on the last word.

The walls closed in.

Azriel—her mate, her heart—was alive.

And Rhys had kept it from her.

“I had to,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “Y/N, I had to—”

But she was already moving, already running, because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Couldn’t understand.

Why?

Why had he lied?

Why had he let her suffer, let her mourn?

Why had he let her break?

Her body was shaking, but she barely registered it.

Azriel was alive.

She had spent weeks drowning in grief, but he was alive.

And Rhys—her brother, the one person she had always trusted—had let her believe otherwise.

I don't blame you But I can't change you Don't hate you But we can't save you

A sob tore from her throat, her knees hitting the floor of the garden.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the pull of the bond—really feeling it for the first time.

It was there. It had always been there.

Distant. Shielded.

Hidden from her.

Her mate.

Her mate was alive.

And she had been drowning in the lie that he wasn’t.

She gasped, head tipping back toward the sky, her entire body trembling with rage, with grief, with hope.

Because she had thought she would never feel him again.

But he was alive.

And she would bring him home.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[occamstfs]

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[utterlyotterlyx]

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

[vieoeil-riae]

maybe you're a bit of a crier (honestly who can blame you, getting pulled into a videogame set in ancient china but with gods and demon and etcetera tends to give you a nice constant emotional base of 'oh what the fuck') but you've managed to cope. well, cope enough, but at this point that's the best you could ask for.

but the destined one didn't seem to be one for tears though, the word neutrality might as well have been tattooed into his brow bone. sometimes an irritated frown, cheeky smile or confused quirk of his brow graced his face, but never tears.

that was until the two of you hit a rough patch in your journey. you got separated in a dense forest full of yaoguai, battle whisking the destined one away while you tried to stay out of the conflict - edging your way through the brush in an attempt to remain unseen.

unfortunately, this led you straight into the sights of a band of wolf guai. that went about as well as you'd expect. you managed to avoid being harmed, just barely, by talking like a madman - rambling and spouting enough nonsense that they decided it would be funnier to keep you around for a while before they made you into dinner.

you were on the brink of tears while they dragged you away, but through your blurring vision you had enough sense to start dropping small items and digging scars into the dirt with your heel to create a trail. fighter or not you weren't about to just give up.

an hour or so later, the destined one backtracked to where he last saw you. his nose twitched in building tension as he realised the extent of your absence. you weren't anywhere around here and it was very unlike you to stray far from him, a sinking feeling clawed its way down his throat.

the fight had gone poorly by his standards and he was sporting enough injuries to feel a constant aching as he moved through the trees with mounting unease. the thought of you being hurt made his lips twitch into a heavy frown, you were much too soft to deserve being hurt, too nice to be gone.

you were one of the few people who'd treated him like a true equal despite his muteness, you took the most time to understand him and the thought of you never talking to him again hurt more than he thought it would.

scrapes littered the path, obvious next to faint paw prints. wolves. his lips curled into a snarl and his eyes stung as he took off along the same path.

for you, it could've been worse. yeah sure you were tied up and sitting against a log in the middle of a yaoguai camp, but hey at least you weren't comedically tied to a spit over the fire pit! ...yet!

it'll be fine, you're sure of it, your monkey will find you before sunset and then you'll have dinner together. for now, you'll just keep retelling the stories of any wuxia novels you could remember with as much drama as you could manage.

"oh, Great Leader! I thought you'd never-!" you're cut off by a resounding howl from the other side of the camp. the wolves around you, recently enraptured in the climax of your story, locked onto the sound immediately, bounding towards the fray without a backwards glance.

god you hoped that was your monkey, because if that was something else you were probably so fucked. at least your toes were warm by the fire?

the destined one tore through bodies like sharp wind through the trees, his staff battering flesh until it dissipated into black ash. he was going to find you, and it was going to cost any wolf guai in his way their life.

you recognised the familiar battle cries the second you heard them, slumping against the log in unquestioning relief. your monkey was here and without a doubt going to make sure you were safe.

the chitters and howls and screeches drew nearer, your heart pounding just a little faster every time you heard his familiar cry. he was more vocal than usual, actually.

one lone wolf scampered into the small clearing with a limp and a nasty snarl, freshly bloodied teeth sickening against the encroaching dark of the evening. your heart leapt to your throat, it's not that you haven't seen a sinister grin like that before, but because your monkey had always been beside you when you'd seen bared teeth. suddenly, it sets in just how safe you felt with him around.

your lips wobble just a little as the wolf's eyes find yours, your eyes sting with tears as it stalks towards you. it's not death you're afraid of, but the brief thought you'd never see the destined one again.

but the wolf is felled in a single hard strike, hard enough to knock the thing across the clearing and into a tree trunk with a morbid crunch of bones before it fell apart into dust.

you looked up, relieved at the sight of the destined one quickly making his way towards you, slightly bloodied as he was. you let out a sigh of relief, letting your shoulders come down from around your ears.

"hey, I was just getting to the good part." you smiled.

he dropped to his knees beside you, staff falling to the floor with a thud. you opened your mouth, about to ask after him, but were pulled into his chest by strong arms before you could.

stunned for a brief moment, your eyes widened. it wasn't that he was touch averse, but he seemed to have manners that always put a bit of physical distance between you two.

now, you could feel the hair on your head move, caught in his fur as he buried his face into your temple - your own forehead tucked into the crook of his collarbone, feeling the warmth of his rushing blood. his arms tightened and surprisingly, you felt a minute shake rock his shoulders.

your eyebrows pinched and you, sadly, pushed him away. his arms resisted, but gave way for you - who just wanted to see if he was okay.

utter relief was splayed out on his face. your jaw dropped at the sight of the watery glisten streaked down his cheeks, trailing into his fur, but you composed yourself.

one hand slipping from the (actually pretty poorly tied) rope and finding his face, your thumb stroking away the fresh tears, you spoke softly, "hey, hey, I'm okay. you got me, I'm safe."

his hand, larger than your own, covered yours. you sat in front of him, unharmed, and the enormity of his want to never lose you again hit him like an avalanche. he grinned widely as he pressed your hand further into his face, another tear slipping from his eyes as he closed them to bask in your warmth.

you were stretched awkwardly, but you made no attempts to move. both too afraid to break the moment of near uncharacteristic vulnerability, and wanting to stay in his arms just a little longer.

"so," you nod your head to the still-roaring campfire, "waste not want not? how about we have dinner?"

his shoulders slumped as he opened his eyes, a warm smile settling on his lips as warmer eyes settled on your own. he huffed through his nose, amused by you. he looked more expressive than before, more relaxed too.

"are you gonna untie me or am I gonna have to figure out how to help with dinner one-handed?" you tease, and he straightens like a board. a bashful look overtaking his face when you tease further, "or maybe you like the look of it too much to take the rope off?"

you snicker as a very flustered monkey starts to untangle you.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

inspired by @s0rr3l 's art of pretty monkey crying (very cool, very expressive!!)

hope you like it! *drops this and runs*

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Maybe I’m projecting with this bc of a very scary close call I experienced recently but I just know that COD men would keep their partner safe

John Price, who is traditional not in the nasty toxic ways, but in the manner that he would always walk you home after a date, even if it hadn’t gone well or had been awkward, or maybe something had gone wrong. He would drive you home if he could, because he’s not letting anyone try to snatch you in the streets under the cover of dark. You aren’t comfortable with him taking you home or sharing your address with him? That’s fine, you can call an Uber, just make sure to use the number he gave you to text and assure him that you made it home safe.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, who is a gentleman in every way, and would give the nastiest looks to any man who even tried to get a bit too close. No, it’s not because he’s jealous or possessive, he knows you’re your own person and he loves your individuality, he just wants to keep you safe. Will bare his teeth at any man who makes your muscles tense even just slightly. Yes, he will call them out in broad daylight, or keep a hand on his gun and the other near you during the night. You aren’t getting hurt on his watch.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, who’s mother and all of his sisters, nieces, and girl cousins taught him just how scary men could unknowingly or purposefully be to women. He would try to keep the mood light, joking and just pulling a bit of laughter out of you at first so he didn’t have to see that glimmer of fear. But if you still felt unsafe with whatever man was lurking or following? He’ll start barking Scottish gibberish that sounds like curses at the person furiously, using the voice he equips when chewing out rookies, one that deters anyone, only to give you puppy eyes after and ask if you’re alright.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, who’s seen his mother be intimidated by his abusive father, watched her get screamed at, beaten, cussed at, and treated terribly almost his entire life before her death. He does not want to see you be intimidated by any man if he can help it. He is a creepy-man deterrent on his own, height and muscle mass usually warding off anyone stupid enough to trail you. But for anyone more persistent? He will stop dead in the street and look straight at them. Once they see the gleam in his big, brown eyes guaranteeing murder and the gun he holds in his hand, your hand in his other hand, they’ll leave the both of you alone for sure.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson, who, despite his mute and mildly anxious nature, will puff his chest out and glare at anyone making you uncomfortable. Will flip them off and pull out a bottle of bear spray, probably shaking the container while looking them dead in the eye. Will not take any bullshit from creepy men trying to scare you, or trying to snatch you.

König, who is an asset on his own, over 6 feet of pure thick muscle and a thin layer of fat. He can get a bit anxious in public like Roach, but if anyone’s making his Schatz uncomfortable? He will kick his German into full gear, harsh voice barking out curses loudly and intimidatingly at the perpetrator who would quickly get the lesson and leave quickly, only to turn back to you and ask if you’re alright, and tell you that he’s sorry if he scared you in the softest, gentlest voice as if he was talking to a little kitten.

[loveandmurders]

Hi, I don't know if your requests are open. But you would ask me what the slashers would be like (thomas hewitt, hannibal, bo sinclair and any other slasher if you like). with a mute s/o (who does not speak and only communicates by signs).

I love your blog

Hey darling, I hope you'll enjoy these little thoughts for the three slashers you mentionned.

It was my first time writing for Hannibal (I used the one from the series, hope it's okay!) and it was a lot of fun 🥰

SILENCE ISN'T WEAKNESS (gn!reader x Thomas Hewitt / Hannibal Lecter / Bo Sinclair)

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of bullies in Thomas' headcanons but he is there to protect you, violent and abusive/abused!reader in Hannibal's headcanons, mentions of a toxic family, killer!reader, cannibal!reader, mentions of murders and Bo being an ass (as usual), let me know if I forget anything.

Thomas Hewitt

When you arrived in town, you were still a child. You had cried so much and you had begged your parents to not move out from the town you had forever known.

Back there, you had struggled so much to get friends, because of your mutism, so you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to befriend anyone else.

People weren’t always nice to you, and they often forgot about your existence because they couldn't hear your voice to remind them you were there. You were also an easy target for bullies.

Thomas spotted you right away obviously.

And the first time, he stood up against bullies was for you. He couldn't stand that someone like you could get hurt.

You grew up together and you never left each other's side. Not even when his family decided to kill people to survive, and he was so grateful for that; he would have been completely lost without you.

You both enjoyed the silence full of love and tenderness between the two of you.

Actually, because you knew each other so well, most of the time, you didn’t even need to fully sign a word or a sentence for the other one to understand what you meant.

Your complicity and love for each other turned into something more than just friendship pretty naturally as you became adults.

Thomas truly felt blessed to have you in his life, because he knew someone was able to understand him and to be on his side no matter what. And vice versa.

Once a man moved in front of you while you were waiting in a line, and when you tapped on his shoulder to let him know you were there, he faked not understanding you and he laughed at you for not being able to speak.

It upsetted you quite a lot. You talked about it to Tommy because it was unfair for someone to treat you that way. Thomas simply asked you what the man looked like.

And the next day you found the man kneeling on the kitchen floor, begging for your forgiveness. His nose was broken and his face was already swollen from the hits he received from Thomas.

The Hewitts let him go once you accepted the apology. After this event, no one ever mistreated you.

You were happy among the Hewitts, Hoyt enjoyed your silence, Luda Mae enjoyed how soft you were to Thomas and Monty enjoyed how sassy you were when people were turning their back to you.

Hannibal Lecter

You grew up in a very poor and abusive family. Violence was the only thing you ever know. You quickly learnt that the people who should have taken care of you, would easily forget about you.

You had to learn another way to express yourself; a cruel and rough way. You couldn’t count all the time your knuckles got raw and bloody after you had beat someone to almost death.

Well the “almost” disappeared at some point. You were a hungry beast who didn’t trust anyone or anything. You knew that one day you were going to die in the street or die in prison, but truly you couldn’t care any less. 

You killed a man twice your size one night. He had stolen and eaten the food you just bought. It was the only meal you might be able to afford this week, so you had gone absolutely crazy.

When the police found you, covered in blood, they thought it was just another homicide in the poorest neighborhood of the city. That was until they saw that the man was missing a leg… and that you deliberately cut him into pieces, to cook and eat him.

Your case didn’t go unnoticed by Hannibal. He quickly used all his relations so he could get you as his patient. He wanted to meet another cannibal like him.

When he saw you for the first time, he didn’t get disappointed. Of course, you looked so ill because of the absence of food but he promised himself he was going to take such good care of you.

You didn’t understand why the man was so careful with you, so gentle even. He didn’t know a lot of ASL but he learnt more for you.

He carefully and patiently coaxed you into talking to him. The fact he brought you food all the time helped a lot, of course. He was the first person who used a soft voice to address you, he was the first to look after your wound, he was the first one to gently touch you.

You started to fall in love with him, and once he was certain you were hooked, he revealed his true nature to you and you only loved him more for it. You understood him, like he understood you. 

He never felt so much happiness when you eagerly ate the meal he prepared for you, while knowing where the meat was coming from.

Bo Sinclair

At first, Bo thought you were going to be a very easy prey. After all, you couldn’t scream for help and he noticed that your group of friends weren't checking on you as much as they should to keep you safe.

But because of your mutism, you were listening and observing people very well. Your friends were under Bo's spell but it was obvious to you that he was no good. Something in the way he looked at your friends when they weren’t watching made you wonder.

You also noticed someone moving from the corner of your eyes when you were visiting the House of Wax. You felt in danger until you used ASL to answer your friends. It was as if the shadow lurking in the dark couldn't hurt you anymore.

You did your best to never stay alone with Bo or in the House of Wax, no matter how much he tried and flirted with you.

Bo was quite dejected you weren’t falling right into his arms. He wasn’t used to that, so it quickly became a new challenge. He started to get interested in you because clearly you were a smart person.

At some point, he made a slight misogynistic remark about one of your friends and you sent him such a full of rage and venomous look that he shut up. He thought you were incredibly hot and he wondered if you might be as dangerous as his twin.

He started to sign to you as a peace offer and you were surprised he knew ASL. He told you about Vincent and he noticed it changed a lot of things for you. You started to get less impatient with him even if you didn't trust him

It didn't save your friends though. You mourned their death in the Sinclair's house.

You hated to admit it but talking with Vincent helped you a lot. You felt understood and you slowly stopped being afraid. You didn’t really have a choice anyways.

Bo never stopped trying to seduce you and it slowly started to work.

With you, the man was different. Your silence was bringing him peace. Your presence was casting his demons away. Your eyes were the most breathtaking things he ever witnessed. Your touch was driving him absolutely insane.

And maybe you were enjoying the silent and yet complete power you held over the man.

[thoughtssvt]

geto suguru x depressed reader

cw : emotional hurt/comfort, mild depictions of the hidden parts of depression that nobody really wants to talk about - having trouble doing basic tasks (bathing)

your clothes felt a little too heavy. your eyelids. the little peach fuzz on your cheeks. the muscle rested against your tibia. they were all just a little too much to move.

you've been feeling this way for a few days.

despite the summer sun shining hot through the shutters of your bedroom window, yesterday's memories are clouded by grey skies. colors dull and muted. seventy-two hours gone by and you can't really remember what they were about. doom scrolling, sleeping definitely. there's a good chance you hadn't left your bed at all.

you were starting to feel gross. maybe the heaviness came with the oil that slicked the strands of your hair together or the dead skin that sat atop your forearm. god, why did it have to be like this? why couldn't you just get up and walk to the shower? why was it so hard?

you were in the same position you'd been in the last week when suguru found you. a few days of missions and a few more of concern until he decided that crossing a boundary would be worth it to see if you were okay. you'd given him a key, but he'd always been respectful of your space, never barging in uninvited until today.

you cringed at the way he cupped your face, his fingers and palm splayed against your greasy locks so he could sweep a stray strand from your forehead. he didn't mind, though. you know he didn't. he'd been there. but you couldn't help but shy away at the vulnerability. being in front of him like this.

he leaned in for a kiss and you shirked away. the most movement you've done in days. insecurity, guilt, shame. all piling on top of you. "I haven't showered in over a week, suguru." you'd said.

now you stood in the shower, curtain drawn as the cold tile froze the back of suguru's thighs and the protruding bones on his ankles blushed an angry red at the pressure he put on them sitting crisscrossed on your bathroom floor, his back to the shower.

"i'll sit with you and we can just... talk." he'd said it so gently, a small smile on his face. his words doing most of the heavy lifting as he pulled the blanket off and brought you to sit with his hands supporting your elbows.

you'd been in there a long time, you at least knew that. the water pelting against your back as you stared at your feet, listening to suguru ramble, never letting silence fill up a single crack so you wouldn't feel alone. not even for a second.

you finished somehow, your body feeling lighter as he spoke. his voice smooth and just loud enough to be heard over the splashes of water. like it was a normal conversation he was having over the phone. he sat there as long as you needed him to.

"feels better, doesn't it? we can do this again whenever you need it." he said over the rim of his hot tea, your own hot mug in your hands as you sat at the dinner table waiting to have your first proper meal in weeks. "but if you don't feel up for it you don't have to be ashamed or feel guilty," he murmured in that same silky timbre that went on and on while you were in the shower, planting a soft kiss against your forehead. "this isn't something you have to go through by yourself. i love you just as you are."

A/N : i dunno i just had this scene in my head that i couldn't stop thinking about but also didn't know how to end so honestly i am a little unsatisfied with the ending, but i do hope this gave you some type of solace. you are loved even if your brain makes you feel otherwise <3 i also have a few more depressed reader x jjk men ideas that hopefully get better over time. i think these are the types of fics i wanna put out into the world please bear with me while i learn how to do so <3

geto x reader masterlist

heart chain divider and purple line divider by @/adornedwithlight

[solargeist]

"What are you even doing here?" Grian grabbed Martyn's shoulder and dragged him to the side into an alley way.

"Don't worry. It's a rescue mission. We're here to rescue you!" Martyn let himself get yanked off the main square full of other Watchers. Grian was fully aware that there was no way the Watchers didn't already know that there was a Listener out and about in their streets.

"Rescue mission? We?"

"Yeah? Me and Jimmy mostly, but Pearl managed to get her hands on the uniform." Martyn says with pride, giving the outfit a little spin for a very stunned and disbelieving Grian. "Not sure about the holes in the back though. Seems like an odd design choice from such a conservative group."

"It's for your- our wings-" Pearl knew about Grian going to this Warcher conference. He had been formally invited to attend and even speak on some topics that he and the Watchers still agreed on. He was almost sure that this was Ather's idea. An olive branch of sorts.

Of course, Pearl would cause trouble about this.

Grian took a deep breath and raked his hands over his face as the Listener thought about his words. "Oh. Oh! That's what these are for then?"

To both his horror and amazement, Martyn leaned own and hiked up the skirt of his stolen uniform. There was a bag that was hidden by the long fabric. He undid the zipper and pulled out the cheapest wings Grian had ever seen. The elastic tool was caked in more glitter than there really had any deserving right to be on an article of clothing. Grian genuinely thought the rubber bands used to hold that thing to anyone's back would cause them to snap.

"Who gave that to you?" Grian really couldn't hide the almost horror from his voice.

"Jimmy said he had Heard Warchers have wings, right? I geuss he picked these ones out."

Grian wanted to rip his scalp off his head. "Of course."

"Don't worry." Martyn said again, trying to sooth as he put his bag away and attempted to put the wings on. "Like I said, I'm here to rescue you. We'll get you out of here in no time!"

"I am here of my own volition." Grian felt himself say distantly as he watched Martyn struggle to get the bottom of the shawl unbuttoned without taking the whole thing off. "I- Martyn that isn't going to work."

"Course it will!" He said cheekily. "Besides, I'm sure they won't even notice you gone. You don't have to pretend to want to be here."

Grian took a deep breath before stepping forward, undoing the back button that kept the shawl flat agaisnt a Watcher's back over their wings. He helped Martyn slip the restrictive cords over his arms before getting them situated back into the long sleeves.

"Okay, Look, I mean, look, Martyn. I can't leave just yet. I actually got somethings to do before we go."

"Do you have to?"

"Martyn, I was Invited here."

He pauses. "You were?"

Grian rolled his eyes. "For a Listener, you are very bad at paying attention."

"What do you expect me to do right now then?"

Grian stepped back and tried not to look at the glitter on the wings. "I geuss you walk beside me and we pretend I don't know you while I do all of the talking until we can both go home."

"Why are you here willingly on a Saturday?" Martyn asked, baffled.

Grian suppressed another eye roll. "I'll explain later, as of now... well, lunch starts in half an hour. I hope you can actually can pretend to be mute and only listen, er, Listen for now. Because if you cause any problems, I'm not gonna come back for you."

This was a lie and theh both knew it, but Martyn folded his arms and looked down at Grian. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

"Good. Let's to. Keep your mouth shut, Martyn." The two stepped out of the alley, the taller 'Watcher' following behind the shorter.

-Lunar, who is typing this out on a new phone and is having a fucking nightmare of a time doing it

they are so ridiculouS

[rafeshow]

Part 2 of just for clicks 🥺😩🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 please

just for clicks .. pt. 2

hasanabi x fem!streamer!reader

tags : probably extremely out of character hasan (it’s been a minute since i’ve watched a stream pls let me live), use of y/n, angst, comfort, tension?, english isnt my first language, probably lots of inconsistency’s and errors.. lmk if i missed any tags !

a/n : heyyy ppl.. sososososo sorry for how long this has taken !! i’ve been very busy in my personal life and i’ve had extreme writers block, and no motivation to write for men tbh LMAOO. if you have any requests for fem streamer fanfics send them my way ig 😭. all that to say, again; im so terribly sorry for the delay with this fic. sorry if it’s awful, i’ve been writing it on and off for MONTHSSS. read part one here.

You awoke around 3AM to a gentle knock at your apartment door. The current ‘situation’ Hasan had sprung the two of you into only mere hours ago had easily kept you up; having only been asleep for about 10 minutes at this point. It was like clockwork watching it play out; first the clips, then the comments against Hasan, followed by the people running to his defense, and of course the few content creators (who probably didnt meet him more than once) insisting they ‘always knew something was off about him’. It had been hours since it blew up, and other than responding to the few initial texts from your friends informing you of the situation, you had gone completely radio silent.

The saddest part was you werent even upset. Rather the opposite, your brain jumped through hoops trying to rationalize it. He just said it in the heat of the moment, he didnt mean it the way it came off, he was just defending himself, he just wanted to make his feelings clear. But of course, the rationalizing thoughts can only do so much to block out the harmful ones; you just really over-thought the way the two of you acted, it was never like that, you made it weird, its your fault.

But honestly, what else could you do? Sitting and ‘rotting’ (for lack of a better word) in bed was much more appealing than the other options. Yes you could hop online and defend yourself, be mad about it, say how gross it was for him to insinuate you'd do anything for views, talk about how weird it is for him to get that pressed over a fan video. Or, you could always flee and take the sad victim side, let all your friends do the talking for you, leave little comments like ‘i didnt know he thought of me that way’ and profusely apologize. But none of that would be you being honest. Of course you wanted to defend yourself, of course you were sad and beating yourself up about it, but you wanted nothing more than to just sit and wallow in it for a while. Avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.

Your friends had all been bombarding you with messages and calls, but your phone was long past muted and set aside. Before going awol you left most of them with a brief ‘im going to sleep it off’ message, but judging by the still persistent notifications, youd assume that didn't ease their minds at all.

Youd been aimlessly watching a show for a few hours at this point, lulling in and out of sleep and tuning out the sound of your phone for the most part. The sudden knock at your door was a change in pace though, the sound snapping you out of the static and fog buzzing around in your head. No, the idea of one of your friends driving over to check on you wasn't all that out of the question. You lived just outside of L.A, far enough from most of your friends to feel like a nuisance asking anybody to drive to come visit you, but not far enough where you couldn't justify driving there yourself. You sat up, adjusting your loose sweatpants where they hung low on your hips. After a bit of quick process of elimination, you figured it was QT; one of your closer (and most considerate) friends. Because of this, you opted not to throw a shirt on to cover yourself, clad in a just a comfortable sports bra.

You shuffled your way over to the door, throwing on the best smile you could manage before twisting the knob and opening it. You were surprised when you had to adjust your eyes upwards, the figure at your door towering over where QT would normally reside. As you took him in, it didnt take long for an exhausted sigh to leave you. It was Hasan. There he stood, still sporting his typical tall and broodingly aloof aesthetic, even despite being moderately hunched over and with concern etched in every inch of his stature. You couldnt help but notice how unsure he looked. Anxious. No, Hasan wasnt always the most outgoing and ‘go-lucky’ guy, but he looked almost pained as you met his eyes; his clothes twisted in ways that made you guess hed been fidgeting with them, his nail polish chipped away on most fingers, the way he took an almost comically large step back as soon as you opened the door.

“Can we talk?” He said, his voice a harsh change in the silence you didnt realize was resting between the two of you. “You can say no of course-” He rushed out, only his fingers flaring out in emphasis opposed to his usual hand movements, almost as if he was afraid hed startle you.

“Yea, sure.” You sighed out, hardly even mentally present in the moment. You rubbed at your eyes as you held the door open, leaving plenty of space for him to walk in. He took you up on the invitation, albeit looking incredibly unsure whilst doing so.

He padded into your apartment painfully slow before quickly snapping his eyes to you, almost as if waiting for permission to do something. For you to give him instruction. You didn't even look at him though, instead grumbling your way over to your previous home on the sofa, tugging your blanket to one end and leaving plenty of room for him on the other. He waited till you’d sat down to follow, trying his best to gently take a seat at his appointed spot on the couch.

“How’d you get my address?” You said plainly, opting to just stare into the tv as it lowly played some random show. He’d never been there before. You honestly didnt care, whatever his answer was. You just hoped it would spring him into getting the daunting conversation over with.

“Austin.” He breathed out, sounding even tenser than he looked. “He gave it to me so I could send you something for the podcast a while ago.” He pausued, but continued; “Im sorry, I know how fucking weird it is for me to just show up but I couldnt just sit there and-” He took a breath, and you could practically taste the oncoming ramble. “You wouldnt answer anybody, and you totally have the right to do that obviously but I couldnt just sit with myself not knowing what was going on.. I started driving here before I even thought it through, which is totally my bad.. but I couldn’t just go all the way back without even checking in.. -And I know my feelings are irrelevant in this and its about you I just-”

“Hasan stop.” You turned to him, trying and failing not to look as sympathetic as you did. “I dont-.. it’s fine, okay? I mean obviously it’s not fine, but we’ll get over it. Im sure you didn't mean what you said, or at least not like that- you know- it's whatever, okay?” You practically hushed the words out, opting for the soothing approach and acting way more casual about the situation than you felt. You threw in a horribly farse reassuring smile at the end, hoping to solidify your words.

“You really didnt need to come all this way, I wouldve answered in the morning. I was just sleeping.” You added, and you saw the way his face ticked. He knew you were lying, but he was definitely not going to pry, whether about the lack of sleep or your want to brush things off. He persisted for himself though;

“It’s not fine, y/n. Im not shoving this shit under the rug, it’s going to eat me alive.” He said, his voice switching between frustration, desperation, and forced softness. You could see the way he struggled with his words, trying so hard not to talk about the way he feels (and failing miserably at it). The way a ping of regret would flash over him after every word he spoke. His eyes flickered back and forth from boring into you and staring off into the abyss of meddled emotions he’d created for himself.

“I’ll just lay it out how it is, okay? It was beyond messed up for me to insinuate you’d maliciously do something.. Like that stuff, for views, okay? Especially when I was doing that.. shit to you too. I shouldve never said that, or even thought it for that matter. I was just- frustrated, okay? Thats not me justifying it or anything, I just wanted you to like, know that-”

“Hasan.” You cut him off, this time sitting up and reaching to put a hand on his knee. You swear you could feel his leg flex under your touch. You stopped for a moment, searching his face for answers to questions you couldn't compute.

“What is so frustrating?” Is the question you somehow managed to compose. You don’t know the answer you wanted. It was an open ended question, he could take the side that you secretly hoped he would; that it was the fans. The overwhelming shipping and attention your relationship got from the fans was suffocating to him, and that he didn’t feel the way they portrayed him to feel about you. Or he could take the side that scared you. That he felt exactly the way everyone was portraying it, and them rubbing his own feelings in his face before he even had a chance to do anything about them himself was driving him crazy. Instead, the two of you sat in silence, and it wasnt uncomfortable. The air almost felt thick around the two of you, a comfortable fog, but something in it possessed you to add a gentle squeeze to his leg with emphasis. And you definitely felt him twitch this time.

“Tell me i'm not the only one who's feeling this way.” He finally muttered, and suddenly the feeling of his gaze hit you like a ton of bricks. You almost wanted to cower away with the way his eyes bored into yours, almost needy, the look feeling even more pleading than the words he'd said.

You knew what you wanted to say, but how could you possibly admit to it? Through this whole situation, you’d been not only so terribly irked at him, but also so frustrated with yourself. How could you admit that you too had been feeling the same way, and you hadn’t done anything about it either? You’d be admitting that the ripples throughout the fandom and now the controversy had been from your actions (or lack there of) too. You’d already been beating yourself up about it all day. What answer did he truly want? If you admitted to him that you too felt the same way, would he be greatful or mad? If you lied and said you didn’t feel the same way, what good or bad would it do? It could wreck him, he’d beat himself up beyond belief, the fact that he not only projected his unreciprocated feelings onto you but also gotten mad over it live. All of it being his fault. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. But you didn’t know which was worse, seeing him mad at you, or seeing him sad. You could only hope for the best, before the words spilled out of your mouth;

“Hasan of course I feel the same way.” A frown etched into your face, and you continued before he even had a chance to react; “I’m so so sorry I hadn’t done anything about it sooner either, I just beat myself up about it until I couldn’t-“ you withdrew your hand from his knee, shaking your hands, looking for the words you couldn’t form yourself. “ -I couldn’t tell how I was even feeling about it anymore..? I used to be so upset that you hadn’t done anything, I thought you were toying with me. I mean.. I tried making it obvious that I liked you so that you’d do something if you felt the same way but you never did so I convinced myself that you didn’t-“

“Hey, Hey,” He cut me off, and it was only then that i’d realized how close he’d moved to me during my rant. His leg rubbed against mine where I sat criss cross in the corner of the couch. His frame leaned over mine as he gave his best attempt at shrinking down to aid me. His eyes scattered across my face as his large hand cupped my cheek, hurriedly wiping at tears that I didn’t even notice were falling. It was only then that I finally realized the sound of my hurried breaths, the air practically huffing out of me. He looked frantic, broken, even though that’s exactly what I didn’t want. He pulled me close to his chest, i’m sure not only to sooth me, but also because he couldn’t bare to look at my tear stricken face anymore. I gripped onto his shirt, not even knowing I needed to cry this bad.

He didn’t say anything at first. I felt him pressing kisses into the crown of my head, and I couldn’t tell which one of us needed them more. He held me tight and close, all of his previous worries of hurting me more and being gentle replaced by the need to comfort. It was unspoken how much we’d both wanted to hold each other over the last few months, whether like this or otherwise, and after all our emotions boiling over, I think this was exactly what we needed.

We sat there in the silence for a long time. The humming of the tv still echoing through my flat, and the now present thumping of Hasans heartbeat against my ear was beyond peaceful. Of course, we’d pull ourselves together soon and have a realistic conversation, but for now, this was perfect.