#IT IS SO GOOD IVE BEEN RENDERED SPEECHLESS

[arixella]

Hii! I love your fics so much it’s crazy 😭 Can I request maybe a OP character (anyone, strawhats if possible..👀 like Zoro for example WHO SAID THAT??) where reader is such a yapper, like they never stop talking and one day the character had like a bad day or sum and they got annoyed at reader speaking too much so they tell them to shut up or like something like that, but then reader gets hit by a devil fruit ability and gets mute for some times?? It would be very appreciated thank youu😙

The Silence Between Us

╰┈➤ pairing: Zoro x gn! reader

a/n: hey yall ive been on vacation sorry but im working on everyones request and the request box is closed rn 😭 (edit: it’s open now!)

summary: After Zoro snaps at your constant talking during a bad day, you're struck by a Devil Fruit power that renders you mute — forcing him to confront just how much your voice, and your presence, mean to him.

wc: 2.0k

contains: Hurt/comfort, angst with fluff, emotional vulnerability, soft romance, slow-burn tone,

You always had something to say.

From the moment the sun peeked over the horizon to the late hours of the night, you filled the air with words — stories, questions, dreams, wild thoughts, jokes (some good, some terrible). You talked to Chopper while he worked, to Robin while she read, to Nami while she navigated, and especially to Zoro while he trained.

He pretended not to listen most of the time, grunting or responding with “mm” or “tch,” but you kept talking anyway, never really needing a reply.

You didn’t notice the tension until it broke.

The crew had returned from a rough skirmish on a new island. Everyone was exhausted. Zoro had taken the brunt of it — again — after shielding a village from a collapsing cliff with nothing but his swords and his own body. He hadn’t said much the whole walk back. You followed him onto the Sunny, chattering all the way.

“And then Sanji totally panicked when the lady offered him ten kids in exchange for soup, did you see that? And oh my god, did you catch Usopp trying to bribe the snake guy with candy? Also—”

“Can you just shut up for five seconds?”

You froze mid-sentence.

The words landed like a slap, not loud, but sharp. Zoro didn’t yell. He didn’t even look at you. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight, eyes shadowed by frustration and fatigue.

“I’ve had a shit day,” he muttered, turning away. “I can’t deal with your constant talking right now.”

You stood there, mouth slightly open, hands half-raised in some unfinished gesture. The silence that followed was deafening. For the first time, you didn’t have a comeback. You didn’t even try to laugh it off.

“…Right,” you said quietly, backing away. “Sorry.”

You left him on the deck without another word.

The next day, you were on a scouting mission with Luffy and Brook when it happened.

You were talking — of course — something about the shape of clouds looking like mashed potatoes when a strange-looking woman stepped out from behind a tree, pointed a finger at you, and said:

“Silencio.”

A ripple of air hit your chest. You blinked.

Nothing felt wrong… until you tried to ask Luffy what just happened and—

Nothing.

Your mouth moved. No sound came out.

Panic set in quickly. You clutched your throat. Tried again. Nothing.

Brook gasped. Luffy shouted something incoherent and charged after the enemy Devil Fruit user. You were left there, speechless in the most literal way, voice stolen.

By the time the crew returned and explained what had happened, you had already started writing notes to communicate. Chopper confirmed it: a Silence-Silence Fruit. The mute effect would wear off — eventually — but no one knew exactly when.

Zoro found out later that evening.

He saw you at dinner, sitting quietly at the table. Not talking. Not laughing. Not making a single comment about Sanji’s overly decorative dessert or Franky’s attempt at sea-cucumber cola.

It was Nami who finally said it.

“They got cursed or something by a Devil Fruit user,” she muttered, stabbing her food. “They can’t speak for a while.”

Zoro nearly dropped his plate.

He stood slowly, heart pounding, and stepped out onto the deck.

You were there already, sitting on the edge, knees pulled to your chest, the waves reflecting in your eyes. You heard his footsteps and looked up, giving a small smile, polite and distant.

He hated it.

“I… didn’t know,” he said quietly. “They just told me.”

You nodded.

Zoro stepped closer. “Was it when you went with Luffy? That’s when—”

You nodded again, slower this time.

He stopped beside you and sat down, his jaw clenching.

“You’re not talking,” he muttered. “Feels weird.”

You gave him a small shrug. The silence stretched.

Zoro stared out at the water. “…I didn’t mean what I said yesterday.”

You didn’t look at him.

“I was tired. In pain. I snapped. That’s not an excuse, but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You hugged your knees tighter.

“You talk a lot,” he said, a little helplessly. “But I like it. I got used to it. It’s just—sometimes my head���s too full. And I took it out on you. That was my screw-up.”

He glanced sideways at you. You were listening, really listening — but your expression was unreadable. He sighed.

“I miss your voice,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked, surprised.

“I mean it,” he said, meeting your eyes. “This silence? It’s worse than the noise.”

You looked down, then slowly reached into your pocket, pulling out a folded scrap of paper and a pencil stub. You scribbled something and handed it to him.

“It’s okay. I know I talk too much sometimes.”

Zoro stared at the words, then looked back at you.

“No, it’s not okay,” he said firmly. “You talk because it’s part of who you are. It’s how you connect with people. It’s how you make the ship feel… alive. I was just too selfish to see that yesterday.”

You wrote something else.

“Did you mean it, though? When you told me to shut up?”

Zoro flinched. He didn’t answer right away. He looked down at the deck, fists clenched.

“I meant I needed quiet. I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I could take it back…” He exhaled hard. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to silence.”

You were quiet for a beat. Then, slowly, your hand reached over and took his — fingers warm and soft around his calloused ones. You gave it a small squeeze.

Zoro looked at your joined hands, then at you.

“Next time I need space,” he said quietly, “I’ll say it without being a bastard. And when you get your voice back… I hope you’ll talk even more, just to punish me.”

That made you huff — soundless, but clearly a laugh — and you leaned against his side, resting your head on his shoulder. He let you, turning slightly so he could rest his cheek against your hair.

The sea rocked beneath the Sunny. The stars blinked quietly above. And even without words, everything you needed to say was there — in the silence, in the shared warmth, in the way Zoro held your hand just a little tighter.

And when your voice finally came back days later, the first thing you did was say his name.

Zoro turned immediately, eyes wide, and you smiled and whispered, “Still love you, even when you’re a jerk.”

He didn’t answer.

He just pulled you in and kissed you like your words were the only ones that mattered.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[thelov3lybookworm]

No Big Deal

Azriel x Reader

Summary: new chores, but surely it won't be too bad.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1082 (more than i expected honestly)

Warnings: none <3

A/n: kinda like a part 2 of my maid!reader fic, but its a oneshot so can be read by itself! not proofread cus i wrote it in like an hour lols, so not my best work but ive got no inspiration recently and yet im doing my best to get fics out every week🤷🏻‍♀️

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It’s no big deal, Y/n told herself for the thousandth time that day.

It was just a room, and she was to clean it. Quick, simple, easy. The fact that she had never cleaned any living quarters before and only been assigned to deserted hallways and storage rooms before was not a big deal. She would just go in, sweep and clean up, and then get out.

Quick, simple, easy.

And yet, the pit in her stomach pulsed in time with her heartbeat in her ear like the maw of some sort of unnatural, unrelenting beast.

The amount of servants in the palace was more than was countable, and so it had been fairly easy to escape doing her duties under the scrutinising gaze of the elite upper fae, sneering at the iridescent wings she hid away most times. But being a -as the higher fae call it- half-breed, came with its own problems.

Most times, she could hide them away without problem. But when, after days of hard labour, the butterfly-like wings would sprout from her back unbidden at the slightest shift of attention.

But other than that, it was all fine. Simple. Easy.

Y/n's days consisted of waking up with -sometimes before- the sun, hurrying to clean up, and hoping there were still leftover delicacies from the previous night that she could sneak out after she had shovelled down thick porridge that made her gag every time. It was not that it was bad, per say, but… it was not the best either.

But that was neither here nor there. Because now she stood in front of an ornately carved wooden door, on the other side of which was the quarters assigned to her for cleaning.

The hallway was mostly deserted, the only other soul the male servant at the other end of it, sweeping the pristine white floors. Located quite near the princeling’s chambers, it led Y/n to assume the room belonged to one of his close confidants.

No big deal, Y/n reminded herself, and then lifted her hand to knock on the door.

Long moments passed without response, and heart throbbing in her throat, Y/n pushed the heavy door open, eyes scanning the silent interior.

"Good day…I’m here to clean…"

The words sounded like a question to herself, the uncertainty apparent. And when, after long moments where no sound returned, Y/n realised that the walls were her only companion.

Small blessings, she mused as she set down the bucket of soapy water in her hand and straightened her skirts. She leaned the broom against the wall nearest and set to righting the bedsheets. They were barely rumpled, as though the occupant of the room had only laid on top of the covers and then left before their weight could make a dent in the bedding.

Just as she was fluffing up the pillows, the faded scent of… cedar? And something that reminded her of the court she lived in floated up to her nose, filling up her lungs with a sort of nostalgia that rendered her speechless, her mind trying to connect the scent to the event that lingered in the back of her mind.

Where had she encountered that scent?

Y/n straightened, her brows furrowed, and turned towards the low coffee table and began picking up the few dishes that littered the table, a bejewelled knife and some spoons and forks and putting it all on the tray to be taken down to the kitchens. She grabbed a rag and kneeled next to the table, still trying to figure out if she had seen the resident of the room before when it hit her.

The Illyrian. He had seemed like the young prince’s friends, and it would make sense that he lived close to him.

It had been maybe over a month since that encounter. She had forgotten about the peculiar meeting almost the day after. But it seemed a little… suspicious, how after over a year of working, his quarters were the first ones she was to clean.

Had he asked for her?

Nonetheless, Y/n finished wiping the table and stood, huffing.

"Is there any way I can help?"

Y/n jumped, whipping around to stare at the soft-spoken Illyrian wide eyed. He, in turn, winced, like he hadn’t accounted for his sudden appearance being frightening for Y/n.

"No- no, my lord. I’ll leave if you wish-"

His lips twisted down on the corners. "The name’s Azriel."

She frowned. "Sorry…?"

He shook his head. "Stay, finish your work. I’ll just be here."

She looked around, contemplating as he walked towards the armchair in the corner. "I’m almost done."

He nodded, his eyes focused on her every movement. "How long have you been working? Like, in the palace?"

Y/n walked over to the bucket where she had discarded the used utensils and threw the rag on top of it, then picked up the broom. "For almost a year now."

"I’ve never seen you before." Surprise coloured his soft voice, making her raise a brow.

"And suddenly, by some miracle, you see me twice this week." Her eyes flicked up, watching for any signs to give away his guilt, and she was rewarded by the blood rushing to darken the skin of his neck and ears.

"Miracle, indeed." he mumbled, his eyes glued to the carpet.

Her heart began racing, and she quickly ducked her head, hurrying to finish up soon.

Knowing he asked for her, knowing he remembered her, after running into each other only once, did something to her

Maybe he will murder me in my sleep.

She set the broom aside, then turned to look at him. His eyes were downcast, moving across the pages of the report he held in his hand, but she knew his attention was on her.

After all, she didn’t know anyone who had the ability to read things upside down.

"I’ll take my leave now." she mumbled.

His eyes flicked up, and he pushed to his feet, discarding the papers in his hand and nodding. "Thank you."

Y/n ran her eyes over him once, without meaning to. His leathers were pristine, his boots shone. Each holster contained weapons, and she was sure he had many hidden, too. One of the holsters remained empty. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Finally, after a long moment of staring, she bowed her head, then turned, picking up the bucket.

"Have a good day."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[bastardbvby]

hi. this is the worst thing ive ever said in my life and something ive been keeping to myself for 3 years. i used to believe that every time i masturbated something bad would happen (its the religious upbringing, my father was a preacher, luke 11:9 and all that). not even just to me but to the unvierse. it then morphed into me thinking that everytime i masutrbated something bad would happen to dream and george. quite literally i might be the reason why they didnt get to meet until 2022 ON GOD its because i was masturbating. the month of the face reveal i was celibate no masturbating no sex NOTHING and then they met up and face revealed. i was so happy that i.... well you know. then the "scandal" happened. not to be a fucking dumb cunt but it was because i masutbated and i want to formally apologize to the community. ive since left and brought my bad luck with me so i hope all is good within the fandom without me wacking it every day lmao :((( but quite literally everytime i did that dream would be trending canceled the next day. ive kept this in for too long and need to confess. anyways lots of love, i still mastubate but its only affecting my new fandoms so if kpop band 17 gets cancelled tomorrow just know i had a good time <3333333333333

you have genuinely rendered me speechless

[enihk-writes]

HEIIIII!

ive been reading your Chung Myung posts likee 3 times altready! Soo i was thinking, if you could pleasee plss do an Chung Myung x reader where he gets hurt (mabye on the latest fight?) on one of hes fights so reader stubornly treats hes wounds, in wich they constantly bicker each other?

[mr hard-to-love]

pairing: chung myung x gn!reader

summary: one would think that in times like this he would be humbled and quiet, but of course he wasn't. when was he ever humble and quiet?

═══════════════

they had hoped that this close call would've taught this reckless boy a thing or two about the human limits but then again, this was chung myung — not some run-of-the-mill kind of boy whose head was too big with thier own ego. chung myung had both the ego and the skill. the worst kind of combination one could have, in their opinion.

they couldn't help but let out a sigh as they carefully peel off the blood-soaked bandages and threw them into a bucket next to the bed.

i really hope you'll be more careful.

i am though?

wow. what a way to piss someone off. they feel their face contort into a grimace, shooting him a disapproving glance before getting back to treating his wounds.

they weren't that slick, and chung myung certainly caught that look they gave him. his heart stirred — irritated, he clicked his tongue and huffed as he turned his face away from them.

how childish...

they mutter under their breath, twisting the medicinal cloth ball into his injuries, earning a little jolt from him in response.

you're the one who's childi- ow! you!

he retorted, or well, tried to. he just couldn't understand how someone physically weaker than him could inflict such stinging pains.

actually...

hey who the hell sent you to treat me anyways?

their hands stopped midair, and they raise an eyebrow at his question. really? their expression seemed to ask incredulously.

you think any of the other four want to deal with your shit right now?

well they should, i am mout hua's cutest junior brother.

cute my foot.

he gasped, feigning hurt from their sarcastic reply. how could they do this to him? wasn't he their partner? oh they must not love him anymore...

oh for heaven's sake, quit whining like i just kicked you when your down.

but you did-

oh yeah, cus' you are sooooo easy to love... ugh.

they wrap the fresh bandages around him securely, pulling at the cloth to tighten it's hold. when they were finally satisfied with their handiwork, they smile and slapped his arm reassuringly.

alright, now that that's done, im going to have to empty this bucket.

as they got up to leave, they feel a tug from behind that made them tumble backwards into his arms.

can't you stay here for a bit longer?

no way, i got things to do.

aw... but i got injured, i'm hurt from a fight and i need my lover to kiss me better...

they look at him, horrified at his uncharacteristic behaviour. maybe the side effects of the poison were worse than they'd previously thought.

just before chung myung started to whine again, the door slid open — instinctively he shoved them down the bed and rolled over to face the wall.

baek cheon walked in, his face pulled into a pained look. he had only heard the loud thud of their bottom hitting the floorboards, ouch.

you good? i can't believe he'd push you off like that...

the senior brother helped them back to their feet, and after making sure they were fine, checked on his troublesome junior brother too.

well at least this one seems to be doing better.

oh he'd better.

they let out a dry laugh at their own comment, motioning at baek cheon to leave as well.

chung myung sighed and finally rolled back over when he heard the door click shut. and just as he was about to relax, the door slid open again —

i forgot to take the bucket, oops.

they scurried over to pick it up and just as they got back up, they bend over to place a quick peck on his forehead.

the now flustered chung myung was rendered utterly speechless.

you... you...

they grin mischievously.

i'll be back again tonight. don't miss me too much now.

chung myung could only watch as they skipped away, not knowing how red his whole face had become.

[yandere-yearnings]

Someone ought to shake some sense into you. There's clearly loads of people who enjoy your work. Your writing and now your art too. Just by that close up of an eye I CAN TELL you have experience and I can very well imagine that you have some little masterpieces lying around that you're hiding. You're so insecure about it and for what? You're doing great, Dar. We all love you and I'd love to see some more of your drawings if you ever feel like posting any of them.

-Love, 🦢

swan nonnie you have shaken the sense into me dw❗️❗️ i wanted to respond to this as soon as i read it tbh but then i was so overwhelmed (in a good way) by how sweet this was that i was kinda rendered speechless😭 i think I've looked at this one ask over ten times since you sent it bc it just means so much to me🥺🩷 thank you, really and truly.

it's probably odd that even though i write, when it comes to things like this, the words just escape me😩💔 nothing will ever be enough to describe the warm feelings in my heart rn, but im really happy and ever grateful to you for it🥺💕 ive been trying my hardest, but time really hasnt changed the fact that I'm a deeply insecure writer. it's more often than not that i sit and wonder why im still doing this, but i think being able to receive kindness like this has made it all worthwhile!! thank you for telling me im doing well🤧 i love and appreciate you all too, more than I could ever express😌❤️

(as for drawings, if i ever work up the confidence, then ofc i'll gladly share them🥺👉👈)

[octomae]

uhhhh ok so I have a couple requests for the Coroika prompt list :)

Anyway it won’t fricking paste for some reason, but #10 from the QP/platonic fluff list, (the one about the stars) with Aviskull :3 I headcanon them as qpps but you can make it however you want

ALSO #3 from the Hurt/comfort list with Gorai, idk I just imagine Rider putting a lot of pressure on himself to be strong and Goggles would help him out :D

Ofc if you don’t like any of these ships or you just don’t want to do them for any reason you don’t have to

ooo i got another ask with gorai so imma do aviskull :3 I LOVE QPPs!!!!! ive never written for avi before so i hope i get him (somewhat) right lol

-

The roof of the apartment building was cold against the flat of his back, and Skull stared up at the fireworks popping with deep booms overhead in showers of color. The sounds of the Splatfest were muffled by distance, the cheering of a crowd nothing more than a soft buzz on the night horizon.

"Hey." A light poke to his arm snapped him to reality, and Skull turned his head to look at Aviators, who smiled and lay beside him. "Lost in thought?"

Skull shrugged, turning his face back up to the sky. After another moment, he tugged his bandana down, breathing in the night air without the fabric blocking its way.

Avi raised a brow behind his glasses. "Okay, I guess it's that kind of night." And without any hesitation, he removed his aviators from his face and tucked them into the pocket of his squid satin jacket.

Aviators didn't uncover his eyes often, if not at all. Similarly, Skull didn't tend to uncover the lower half of his face. That they were able to do such things with each other that they didn't around others felt reassuring and comfortable. Skull let the feelings wash over him.

"Feels different than before," Skull said, staring up at the sky. "Splatfest."

It was their first one since Team Blue had shown up and kicked their asses in that rematch. Skull had forgotten what winning a turf war and a ranked battle was supposed to feel like. The effortless wins made everything feel monotonous. Even splatfests had become boring.

But for some reason, it wasn't boring anymore. The sky was filled with color now. Skull barely remembered what his first splatfest felt like, the joy and thrill of that first party when he was younger, but he imagined it probably felt something like this. His chest felt as though it might burst. He didn't really understand why.

Avi shrugged, scooting closer to where Skull lay and poking his shoulder again.

"Different good, or different bad?" Avi asked.

"I... can't tell." Skull continued to stare at the sky, and Avi continued to stare at Skull. He knew what Avi's eyes looked like. He was probably the only one who did.

"Well if it's not bad, it's probably alright I think."

Skull only watched the stars, a churning feeling in his hearts. He'd failed, hadn't he? Wasn't strength all that mattered?

"Do you... ever miss Vintage and Omega?"

Avi made a surprised noise at the question, but when Skull turned to look at him, he went quiet. He remained silent for a moment, before turning his face towards the stars and away from Skull's piercing gaze. "Honestly? Yeah, sometimes."

His hearts sank in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to look away from Avi's face. "Do you regret coming with me?"

"Dude, what?" Avi snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "Nah."

"But... Team Purple isn't... We lost to-" Skull could hardly get the words out, huffing in frustration when his throat closed up and nothing slipped through anymore.

"You think I'm staying with you just because you're strong?" Avi shook his head with a laugh. "C'mon, Skull. I'm with you until all the stars fall out of the sky, and even then I'd never leave you behind. I don't care what team I'm on so long as you're there too. If we win, if we lose, that doesn't matter to me. Only you do."

The declaration rendered him speechless. Unable to find the words, Skull reached a hand down and took the one Avi had been poking him with.

Avi paused, glancing down at their joined hands before lifting his face and smiling at Skull.

"I'm with you," Aviators repeated, the bright colors of the fireworks overhead reflecting in his eyes. "No matter what."

Skull squeezed the hand in his own and found a smile on the corners of his lips.

[choiraugur]

Hi back again and Dante's posture? The way they clasp their hands together??? Perfectly captured how I imagine the manager looking without flaw, fault or mistake. So I keep sending asks but your art has changed me as a person - I am now much more annoying as a Dante fan. I hope that your pillows are cold in the middle of over-warm nights and that your beverages don't spill, the least I could do after seeing your godly art

anon you are making me blush like the dante drawing im trying so hard to find a good way to respond but ive been rendered speechless with my face behind my hands

[telestotelezzz]

You want a long anonymous message? I can cook one up!!

I genuinely think you’re one of the most kind people i’ve ever met. You deserve so much more credit than you give yourself. You’re like the best friend I never had, if that even makes sense to say? You’re fun to talk to, this sounds incredibly and embarrassingly sappy but you’re one of the few people that i feel 100% comfortable talking to. You give off this vibe of comfort without judgement like I can talk as myself and not have to worry about being too talkative or bothersome and, of course, you still have human emotions and you’re allowed to feel those things but there’s not a lot of people i feel so able to freely talk about my interests with and stuff.

I got off-topic I think, oops— Let me add, you’re a very funny person. I genuinely adore your sense of humor. I think i might’ve subconsciously picked up some of it? Sometimes i say something or I See something I think is funny and I think, “Sounds like something Lucifer would say.” I would talk to you way more often if I wasn’t so shit at starting and ending conversations, sadly ;;

I know sometimes you do feel your lows, and I just wanna say, I care about you. Words don’t do a lot, there’s no magical cure for feelings, but please try to keep in mind that even when you’re at your lowest there are people who Care about you. and love you even! Love you for your artwork, your writing, your humor, your interests, your personality, your kindness, you. And the way you inspire people and make people happy and are a fucking amazing friend. Out of this world. Like a world future star!

Sorry if this long of a message feels weird,, Near the end I’ve kinda given up on trying to hide most of my typing style because you’re most likely gonna know who this was anyway— unless I did a good job of being anonymous? That’d be surprising I think. Anyway, you’re wonderful, Lucifer, everything that you are.

i have no clue who yoiu are because i am Terrible at recognizing typing styles unless its super distinct ....... you have kept your anonymity do not fret

i actually read this last night and started like. tearing up???which is why i didnt respond as soon as i saw this ask + i wanted to be on a computer to type like a real response. Not that i know how to give much of one because i am rendered Speechless

this is maybe the nicest message ive ever gotten and the nicest thibgs ive ever been told and it means a Lot to me and its crazy to think that you spent time typing it and you mean it and ???!?!??!kind of silly because its some Message on the internet but i think im going to think back to this a lot when im sad and know that i can hold on for a little longer because there is in fact someone who cares about me. im so glad i can be a good friend to you adn that you feel comfortable around me thats really what i strive to be i just want to be a nice person who helps people and makes em feel Happy (❁´◡`❁)

thank you so much idk who you are (except that we're friends which just makes me want to go and give you a hug even though I CANT why dont computer let me reach through the screen) but i really needed this message i think and it means A Lot to me :)))) (this is probably not everything i will want to say and ill absolutely go and kick myself because i didnt think of something i wanted to say and you cant edit tumblr posts like you could in the Olden Days)

[swiiivet-screamathon]

i wrote that before goin to take a nap (which is where the autocorrected typos came from lol) so i did in fact not consider the possibility of that the canon might say that his reaction is anger

i thoroughly think we need a next part before we can make substantive conclusions about what smilk was exactly feelin at the end cause i think there are a few but still different possibilities as to why he reacted the way he did-- at least most of the time, there are still some inferences we can make that are probably reasonably accurate, with one of them being that he's probably as angry as he got because pv betrayed him in his eyes, and im considerin the possibility that the reason why he was so hurt by the betrayal was because he wanted to be pv's friend, he wanted to be able to say with his full chest one day that pv was indeed his friend, but only in a way that didnt make him feel at risk of bein taken advantage of for the massive vulnerability that creates-- a subservient puppet who has no capacity to be swayed by a mob, who'll just follow what he asks unquestioningly, because thats someone who wont run off and cause all sorts of problems, thats someone who cant reject him

so when pv does reveal that it was all a ruse and used smilk's realm against him he gets real pissy, the very thing he didnt want to happen happened, his vulnerability got stomped on and taken advantage of, and now the one he wanted to call his friend is all of the sudden the one in control, who has complete autonomy to do anythin at all that might risk smilk's bubble of safety-- and thus he gets real pissy, especially by tryin to interrupt pv at every possible opportunity, to undermine anythin he says, nothin he can say can have any value to smilk!!----right? .......but then pv says somethin curious, he expresses that he never left the bubble, that he knows what smilk wants, and that he'll be there for him, "no one else but me can truly understand you"-- and the moment he says that smilk goes quiet, he lets pv finish his thought, and he considers what pv has really said-- and then realizes oh shit of fuck im bein vulnerable again and cuts that right out lol

although i think its very fair to read it as him considering the possibility and genuinely internalizing what was said, it might be worth considerin that he is instead made speechless; that he was told exactly what he wanted to his face by the one he wanted to hear it from, but not in a million years could he admit those words outloud, he is the weakest he's ever been since his release in all capacities and the one who said it just proved to him that they could end him here and now yet chose not to, every baked bone in his body tells him that this is the culmination of his fears, this is prime time to get rejected and betrayed again, itd be laughably easy if he said any variation of 'yes' in that moment.

But then he does say something, any word at all, and thats no good-- alarm bells immediately ringin the self defense walls immediately risen to absolute max and he tries so hard to assertively go 'nuh uh i wasnt vulnerable at all right there just now lmaooooooo u thought?' which pv doesn't particularly seem perturbed by

idk, its the most headcanon-y i feel like ive gotten but i also dont feel like its unreasonable either to draw such a conclusion. if someone who didnt struggle as much w sayin what they wanted wouldve probably not only been rendered to a single word and then absolutely explode, itd probably be a more dramatic scene of 'but that could never happen' or whatever

def feels like one of those times where i should check the korean version but also i jsut woke up and wanna get other things done lmao

im mostly concerned now that im not sure how to transition him out of bein quiet about what he wants w/o bein too disassosciated from canon, since i dont think we have enough info on his more normal behaviors to draw any of those conclusions-- cause it aint a confidence issue, he can act whatever feeling he wants im pretty sure, if he really wanted to practice getting over it he'd just pretend to be the person he wants to be viewed as, its not like he's a stranger to that idea-- but because his beastifying is for the most part external, what if the cookies decided to value lies again? you cant guarantee in any capacity that just because communication and truth is important today means it will stay important tomorrow-- but i also know that some external problems can be solved internally, but im not sure how that would look like for smilk as 'ignore the haters' does not in any way seem like it'd be effective for smilk, he probably tried to ignore them for dozens of years, valiantly holding his ground as his virtue, but eventually that determination just turned into what he couldve feared the most, that he was just lying to himself, he was doing the very thing those other cookies were doing, wasnt he? it doesnt matter what he believed to be important, the haters are the majority now, no one wants the truth, why stay as a lighthouse of hope when no one docks their ship by it?

maybe itd look like a slow osmosis, like most conclusions ive made within waffled, that being around the thing for long enough slowly morphs him under his nose into a believer, as deep down beyond his walls he does already believe, but just has to be smuggled past the wall if we want to see it in action

After all, pv will be the lighthouse to his beliefs: "It's alright to take it slow." "I shall doubt myself no longer." "I will always try my hardest... for everyone." "What's important is the will to keep going." "There's nothing we cannot do!" "Never stop believing in yourself." "Always be honest with yourself." ...

"May the Light of Truth illuminate your path."

Idk if I'm projecting here since idk if we've seen enough of Smilk to know if he would or wouldn't do the thing I would lol-- so if anyone wants to source something that refutes the idea then go ahead /g

But I've been starting to think of him as someone who just can't fess up if he wants something that's simple and comparatively insignificant

Because to put yourself in that position is to make yourself vulnerable, and the entire reason he even is a beast is due to the behaviors of others-- so it doesn't feel like a huge stretch that he doesn't like seeing people going against his desires and/or disappointing people

(if you haven't seen the mega post I made-- other people turned him away as they preferred the sweetness of lies over the harshness of truth and that drove him to following that herd, it was not him deciding on his own to give up on the truth, and there's a couple sentences that makes me believe he still believes in the truth deep down and never gave up on it in the first place and that the deceit is a mask)

So if he wants something with social value like control and power he'll use that as a leverage to counterbalance the internet vulnerability of ranting something, people can't judge your soul loudly if you're holding their strings tightly after all

But if you want something silly and insignificant? People can totally look down on you for that, and he's been rejected enough in his life already there's no point in inviting them to do it again

Which leads to me continuously thinkin of Smilk being very quiet in the 'actually taking action to intentionally becoming a better person' phase, after everything they've done together and generally not being rejected he's started really trusting PV so he wants to be more grounded and honest with him-- but that doesn't exactly like, yk, remove the trauma that got him here in the first place, he still has that baggage that has to be sorted through at some point if he ever wants to complete his redemption arc-- lying to someone you might be able to call a friend kinda sucks, lying to someone you trust sucks, lying to someone who trusts you an infinite amount is pretty bad too, but telling the truth would suck even harder than all of that combined

So for those simple stupid things he can't make a huge event out of it, it's not important enough to act like it'll end the world, but he still yk, wants it-- so he'll grab PV by the arm and lead him to what he wants him to see, cause he can't bring himself to say the words out loud, to have it be documented and recorded to be true, to admit a weakness like that-- but walking is easy, dragging someone around is easy, letting them do all the heavy lifting you can't do is easy; especially when you can then take the opportunity to try to make it sound like they wanted it all along, yeah sure you dragged them here and brought it to their attention, but they said the words, they were the ones that were vulnerable, not you

So now the two of them are having ice cream together, and it was totally completely and fully Pv's fault, Smilk never said a word, he never asked for it and he never ordered it, so clearly this was independently cooked up by PV and no one else-- but he did seem quite gleeful when PV handed him his cone

[ellierium]

gimme a lil angsty drabble of reader and ellie being exes who still love each other and miss each other but know that they’re not good for each other right now (hint hint maybe things will be different in the future)

firstly, im very sorry for the late reply! ive been a bit busy. hopefully you enjoy this tho cause it definitely made me feel shit. in a good way tho. also, i saw a tiktok of that doctor strange scene where christine and strange were talkin and christine says "there are other things that can give your life meaning" and strange goes "like what? like you?"

....yea so anyway. heres this for you, my dove.

cw; idk angst? ellie is kind of a meanie but its fine.

word count; 1.6k

an; i say that ellie sings a song that obviously she did not write. don't take it personal. if u see errors no u dont

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“There are other things that can give your life meaning,” you had pleaded, exasperated, exhausted. 

Ellie was unimpressed; had scoffed all mean and bitter and utterly defeated. You remember it like it was yesterday. The way her lips had pulled back into a sneer, like she couldn’t stand the thought of anything else, anyone else, being important to her. Like the thought of holding you on a pedestal made her sick. 

The fact of the matter had been that Joel had slipped into a coma six months prior to your fight, and he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon. The doctors were doing anything and everything, Ellie had been traveling all over the world to find answers, and you– You had gone with her. You did everything you possibly could. You loaned money to her, didn’t bat an eye when she sold things you had gotten her for the extra cash, you didn’t flinch when she became distant. You stayed. You were loyal. You knew deep down she loved you, and that this was just something she had to do for Joel’s sake. You could understand that, you’d even excused any questionable thing she said or did. And yet. 

She hadn’t missed a beat. Arguing wasn’t new at this point. You’d get into it every other day. There was only so much you could take; the constant bickering, the snide remarks under her breath. You could take it, for the most part. 

And yet.

“Like what?” She snapped, her face permanently etched into a scowl, “Like you?” 

It had rendered you speechless. A devastation that rocked you internally. It was the worst thing she had ever said. Four little words, and that’s all it took. 

You had shut down. You both knew that this was it. That the relationship wouldn’t survive after that outburst, that it just wouldn’t be the same. You didn’t leave, though. You kept staying over to cook her dinner, and you’d clean the house while she traveled. For two months, neither of you said a word to each other that wasn’t hello, goodbye, thanks, or you’re welcome. 

And just as those two months were up, Joel finally woke up. 

Even so, you had left. Once you got the news, you had given her a hug and kiss. You visited Joel at the hospital, gave him a nice bouquet in a boot-shaped vase, and smiled as Ellie played the guitar for him. 

You were gone the following morning. Not much else to it. 

You couldn’t leave your apartment for three months. You couldn’t stomach throwing away the pictures of you two, couldn’t even get rid of the guitar picks she left at your apartment. The ghost of Ellie lived there still, and it was all you had left. Therapy, and time, and lots of patience helped. You started going out again, started hanging around Dina and Jesse, and four months after the break-up, you packed up all of Ellie’s stuff and shoved it under your bed. She was important to you still, and you’d never deny that. But out of sight, out of mind, right?

Two years had gone by, and here you were. Junior year of university had just begun, and you, Jesse, Dina, and Ellie all had a class together.

You huff out a breath, and adjust the strap to your bag. You haven’t seen Ellie in months. You ran into her by chance at the cafe down the street from your apartment, where you both always went to for breakfast. She had smiled at you, and nodded her head, and after that, poof. Gone again. 

You shift on your feet, waiting for an appropriate time to walk into the class. You’d gotten there early, hoping to grab a good seat. Once you deemed the time appropriate, you snuck into the class and looked for a table. You faltered in your step, recognizing the silhouette of the person sitting alone at a table towards the back of the room. Ellie. You nibble at your lip, a sick little habit that you could never give up, and weigh your options. Sit by yourself because Jesse and Dina will want to sit with Ellie, or suck it up and sit with her alone for a few minutes. You sigh quietly.

“Fuck.” You mutter, ducking your head. Your feet start to move before you have the chance to change your mind, and you eye the earbuds sticking out of Ellie’s pierced ears once you get to where she is. You reach over hesitantly to tap her shoulder, suddenly hit with the thought that you used to just jump on her shoulders anytime you wanted. How things change.

She looks up at you before you can think about it too hard. Her eyes widen in surprise and she flounders for a bit, her lips parting open but no words escaping. 

“Mind if I sit?” You ask, putting her out of the misery of finding something to say. She blinks, and nods quickly, grabbing her bag out of the seat next to her. 

“Yeah, fuck, sorry–” She mumbles, clearing out her little mess on the table. You eye her notebook, catching the sight of what looks like a song. You slip yourself into the seat, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. She quickly shoves her tattooed arm in front of her notebook, hiding it from your gaze. You look away, and start grabbing your notebook from your bag. 

The air is thick, even though the room is so fucking big. You can vaguely hear the music coming from her earbuds, and you try not to look at her. 

She looks the same, though. A little more grown, a little less tired. Like the dread has finally let her go. The calmness suits her. You remember her being tense and guarded from when you two were together; how nothing could calm her down. This Ellie, though, she looks like she fuckin’ sunbathes and does yoga. The thought makes you snort, and you duck your head quickly, embarrassed. Ellie looks over at you, a small grin on her lips, and when you meet her gaze, you realize it looks a little sad. You ignore it.

“It’s–” She coughs softly to clear her throat, wincing at her awkwardness, “It’s good to see you.” 

You mess with the pen in your hand, looking over her features. The freckles you used to kiss every night, and the lips that used to kiss the beauty mark on your neck, and the stupid little slit in her eyebrow that you know the story to but you swore you would never tell. You smile, trying to be polite, but it falls quickly. 

“Yeah, you too,” you nod, opening your notebook to try to look busy. The class starts filling with bodies, thankfully, and if Dina gives you a worried glance when she sits in front of you, you pretend not to notice. 

Growth is hard. It takes time, and effort, and it’s a push and pull every single day. Being around Ellie more has allowed you to experience this growth full force. You moved on after two years, sure, but now it's being put to the test. It’s hard to be around her, to treat her like she’s only a little bit more than a stranger when she used to be everything. It gets easier as time goes by, but then Dina just had to barge into your apartment, yelling like a crazy woman. 

You jump out of bed, rushing to the living room where she holds her phone out like a bomb. You breathe heavily, looking over her face and figure to make sure she’s not hurt. She looks back at you with wide eyes and a shit-eating grin, in perfect condition. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You exclaim, and she steps closer, shoving her phone towards you. You squint at it questionably, gesturing to it. 

“The fuck is that?” You ask, your voice still on the verge of a yell, and she squeals suddenly. 

“This is a fucking Spotify account. More importantly, it’s Ellie’s fucking Spoitfy account where she posts songs that are about you!”

The statement makes you freeze. At first, the words don’t register in your brain. When they do, you scoff. Dina raises an eyebrow at you, silently asking you to try her life so she can prove it to you. You cross your arms over your chest, and glare at the phone. 

“Songs?” You ask, to which Dina nods. “Like, plural?” 

She groans in annoyance, connecting her phone to the bluetooth speaker. She scrolls, then clicks on a song. You peer over at her phone and notice it’s titled my kind of woman. It makes you lose your breath, hearing her voice and knowing the face she pulls when she sings a certain word. You bite the tip of your nail, and try to take deep, calming breaths. 

You and Dina sit there for what seems like hours, listening to every song in her discography. There’s not much, but the songs about you tell you everything you need to know at the moment. It brings back a feeling that you had when you two first started seeing each other. That giddy little fluttering in your tummy, the hope that you snuffed out years ago. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and when you pull it out, you eye the message on the screen. 

ellie 

3:46pm 

hey. would you mind meeting me for some coffee? i was hoping we could talk.

When Dina catches a glimpse of the dreamy look on your face, she asks what's up. You’re too content to not tell her, and yet–

“I’ll tell you after.” You smile.

[lollytea]

You must check out the storyboards for the montage for Thanks to Them!

https://at.tumblr.com/hayleynwong/part-%C2%BC-of-some-samples-of-my-boards-from-the-owl/jr8mbm4h4xx9

The final cut made the huntlow haircut scene MORE overtly shippy than the boards did. Finally it's the reverse

Also Hunter isn't getting attacked by bees in his picture with Willow, he was smiling and posing with her! And we almost didn't get Willow sleeping like a gremlin based on these boards

SO IVE HEARD

HAYLEY BOARDS HAYLEY BOARDS HAYLEY BOARDS!!!

God she really is a huntlow menace lmao. This isn't the first time her boards with those two were way too obviously shippy and had to be toned down a bit in the final product.

The original version of the haircut would have been soooo sweet tho. Like he was so horrified by what he saw in the mirror that he had a fucking panic attack. But then once Willow arrives on the scene it cuts to him looking all soft and smiley, really hammering in the influence she has over his emotions and what a calming presence she has in his life. In the final version he still looks a little uneasy and we know this is cuz Willow Park is cutting his hair rather than any angsty reason but still. The contrast between angst panic and smitten smiling would have been fantastic. Oh and if he still glanced down to the witch hunter book and his smile immediately dropped before pushing it away. Oh that would have hurt so good.

I love Hunter being rendered a speechless mess whenever Willow is around but I think adding a big stupid smile to his face at the same time is what really makes it. I adore the idea that if she makes him nervous, it's in a way that he likes. She makes him foolishly giddy.

(Oh no. Hope this doesn't sound like I'm bashing the final product. I would never. Huntlow haircut scene my beloved.)

ANYWAY the original garden picture is adorable!!! It's so wholesome. I can almost imagine somebody deciding it's too wholesome. Spice it up a bit. Which resulted in the bees. But man, they were spending time alone together 🥺 He's probably never tended to a garden before so she was teaching him how 🥺 They both looked so happy. The way Hunter would have kept that picture by his bedside. Can't complain tho. The fact that the picture he ended up keeping was him getting chased by bees could not make any more obvious that he kept it just because Willow was in it. Idk what to tell you, that is love.

I feel like Willow's sleeping position was probably added in the later stages of development so they changed one of the boards last minute to match. I like to think the crew was as entertained by it as we are.

Another thing I've noticed is that one scene from the shack where you can see the kids' drawings of their parents. Luz has also pinned up a drawing of Eda and it kinda makes you wonder why they cut that out of the final version. I like to think it plays into her current tendency to isolate herself because of guilt and downplay her own loss and put the families of her friends as what they should be concerned with right now. So instead, her longing to see her own Boiling Isles families is confined to her own personal space (like her desk, notebooks, locker.) while the parents of Willow, Gus and Amity are considered the "important" stuff.

Also Hunter seems to have pinned up a drawing of the Golden Guard mask??? Hmm. Hmmmmm. What is to be said about that? I don't really know but it's very interesting

[eyenaku]

OUAGH??????? OAUEHH ???????????WAUWHDHGH WHAT ! ! WHAT! ! ! ! WHAT????????????? SOBBING REAL TEARS????????/ HI HELLO.

HI. HI . WHAT ME> AND ME AND MY GUYS AND ME AND MASKS AND FAIRGROUND ORGAN AND THE MOTIFS AND MY OUTFIT AND AND A NDN SDADSHAGJGWDGJ HA!?????????????????????? !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGHH AUWGHHDWU ADHJDHWJHDW

SOB SPBBOSBSOBON SOBBINg HWAEAT 1???????????? HHHHEAHHEJHH HHWHAHEHAEJAJEHJAE H EJH JH EJBARKBARKBKARBKARBAKRBKARBKABRKARBKARBKAB ARROWROWO AKAHDJ HWAJJJHJ

HHRMNA NG????????????????????????????????? GAGRHJARHWH WH THE PERSPECTIVE ON THOSE MASKS>>>>......... IS SO GOOD WHAT! ! WHAT!!!!!!!!!! IS THEM IS MY BELOVEDS IS. FOOL PUN... IS .. BELLS BELLS BELLS BELLS

OH MY GOD IM ACTUALLY SPEECHLESS AT A LOSS FOR WORDS KICKING MY FEET BITING MY FINGERS OH MY GOD!! WHAT!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3 OH MY GOD!! WHAT ! ! ! I AM SO SORRY IVE BEEN RENDERED SPEECHLESS. OH MY GOD. HII HELLO THANK YOU WJHAT. THIS IS SO COOL SO WHAT!! WHAT!!!

The Mask Collector

@eyenaku I had a vision

Happy Mask Salesman (Majora’s Mask) except he’s real and it’s Naku and she hand makes them.

The masks are stowed with a mini fairground organ and a (circus) tent. I took a little inspiration from the celestial wards guys for the accents and details and such on the organ.

Also ya can’t be running loose without jingling so lots of bells, you absolute fool (pun)

I totally stole the outfit from an intro post though

Anyway that’s the whole explanation have a nice day

[copias-thrall]

Fucking one of the ghouls is like a reverse exorcism. You don't want the demon to be out of your body but want them come inside you (:

I adore whatever possessed you to send this ask, dear anon. ;)

*rough sex; vaginal penetration; cunnilingus/fingering; knotting; lots of cum*

It was your first day off in what felt like weeks. There was the influx of new Initiates following that Goore creature’s latest announcement (and hadn’t Imperator been livid he’d done so before Papa IV’s long-awaited—and unprecedented—second album), plus the plans for the autumnal equinox bacchanal were a clusterfuck, and then the whole mishap with the dorms for newly minted Siblings.

There were late nights and early morning—and late nights that turned into early mornings—and at some point you’d just started sleeping in the armchair in the tiny office that was yours. You were eating breakfast at 8pm and dinner at 4am, and at one point you just went outside and used a garden hose to rinse yourself off before getting back into it.

When your assistant had rolled in with her shadows and trundled you off to your room, you’d been irate…but after an actual shower, fresh clothes, and a solid 3hrs of sleep, you’ve come to see the sense in her actions.

You’re still antsy—still full of that anxious energy—and you haven’t seen your Ghoul since the madness started. As you rub your hand between your legs, you realize you know just how you can burn off that excess.

It’s a good thing the two of you have got going—both of you have high-pressure positions within the admin at the Abbey and with Sister Imperator being a micromanager, not a lot of wiggle room for delays or mistakes. A romp in the sheets multiple times a week with no expectations of dinners or dates is exactly what the both of you need to work hard and fuck harder.

And a good, hard fuck is just what you need right now.

You put on a cheap set of lingerie (he likes to rip it off you and you like to be cost effective), dab a bit of Santal 33 on your pressure points and between your breasts, and make your way down to the Ghoul dorms. 

Your heart beats with excited anticipation and your blood quickens with lust the closer you get.

No doubt all the Ghouls can smell it on you as you get a few lascivious winks and howls from the Ghouls and Ghoulehs you pass. But you just toss your hair, do a little twirl, and wink right back.

“I know,” you purr as you continue on your way.

You’re not 3 doors away when the door of his room slams open. His eyes glow low, and his chest heaves—but he makes no move to chase you. He simply tracks your movements as you grow closer, swinging your hips the whole way.

He stiffens as you purposefully brush against him when you slink into his room, and you hum out an Mmm, letting your fingers linger as they trail across his chest. You can feel more than hear the rumble that starts low there.

As soon as you’re in, he slams the door shut and locks it.

“Been too long,” he growls as he pushes his hard bulge into you.

“Has it? I hadn’t noticed,” you tease as you go easily into his touch; his one hand pulls you flush into the heat of him while the claws of the other sink into your hair to reveal your neck to him.

He licks at your pulse point. “Can smell you,” he counters, and then his other hand is pressing in between your legs. “Can feel you,” he pants into your ear.

You cover his hand with yours and show him how you want it as he nips at your delicate skin and sucks bruises into your neck. His cock ruts against your ass in time to your movements, and you suddenly want it in you like, last week.

He rumbles when he smells the spike in your arousal, and you let out an Ah when his hand comes up to tweak at your nipples.

“What do you want?” he asks as his hot breath tickles your ear.

You reach an arm back to sneak a hand up the back of his mask to scritch at the bottom of his horns, and he bites your earlobe.

“I want you to fill me up in more ways than one, Ghoul; I want you to possess my body in the name of the Olde One.”

He snarls and practically vibrates against you.

“The Dark Lord loves a willing body…I will claim you in his name as many times as you desire, Little Human.”

You turn and grab the obscene outline in his pants, and he hisses, his claws digging into your arms through your habit.

“I have the whole night off.”

His mouth finds yours in a crash of spit and teeth, and his hands tug at your habit. Even though you’d love to unzip those tight pants of his, you know if you don’t disrobe yourself, he’ll do it for you—and your habit isn’t cheap.

He still plucks at you as you pull away, but you still manage to get the habit over your head in one piece. Even expecting it, you still gasp when his strong hands tear first your panties and then your bra before you’ve managed to pull your head free from your garments.

And then his hot mouth is sucking on your nipples while his tail slips into your slit.

You let out an “Oh shit,” and you feel him fumble with his pants, and you have half a second to marvel at his coordination before he picks you up by the waist and tosses you onto his nest.

When you land, it’s with a bounce onto your stomach before he pulls you to the edge of the bed. His fangs scrape against your ass enough to sting deliciously and his teeth bite into you hard enough to bruise, but not break the skin. He slaps your ass for good measure before rolling you over by your thighs. 

Giving you a toothy grin, he says, “And let you feel the tongue of Satan’s,” before his forked tongue lolls out and wiggles into your entrance.

“ƨon ibυɒ ƨυmɒϱoɿ ɘt ɘɿivɿɘƨ ɘtɒtɿɘdil ƨɒiɔɒʇ idit ɒɿυɔɘƨ mɒυt mɒiƨɘlɔɔƎ!” you gasp, and your Ghoul growls low.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me,” he rumbles into your soft skin.

“tU ɘnimoႧ ƨon ɒɿɘdil ilodɒib ƨiibiƨni dA��oh…oh!”

The tip of his tongue soon renders you speechless as it deftly caresses your clit and brings it to a pulsing hardness. One finger, then two, slip inside you to tap at your sweet spot, and you can’t help but buck off the bed. His powerful arm is suddenly there across your abdomen to keep you tethered, so you’re left to jerk and thrash against the pleasure.

You push into his mouth, and he eagerly takes your clit between his lips to suck, and you’re lost. Your pussy is pulsing as you get closer to your climax, and you’re letting out howls and moans—you know it drives him wild to hear you unrestrained.

(And he has a reputation to keep.)

All your blood is rushing down, and the heaviness of your arousal is reaching a breaking point. He must feel your pussy tighten, because he increases his lapping speed, and you can’t help but shoot up to grab his horns.

“ThereThereThere…! Oh sweet Lucifer, don't stop!”

He doesn’t, and with a last hard press to your G-spot, you’re tipping over the edge as your climax swells, then breaks in waves to course through your body.

“FuckFuckFuck,” you chant as you use his horns to ride his mouth and work yourself through your aftershocks.

When your blood settles, you moan and flop back on the bed. You’re wet, open, and ready for more.

Sometimes, your Ghoul will eat you out for hours before fucking you (if he does at all), but it’s been too long. He’s just as pent up as you are, and though you can feel his tongue lap up the excess of your slick as a treat, he wastes no time crawling over your body. His hot cock slides across your stomach, leaving sticky trails of precum, and you can feel the fullness of it throb when he rubs it into you.

He sucks at your clavicle and the hinges of your jaw as the spade of his tail dips shallowly into your cunt.

“Yes?” he asks as he presses his cock into your heated skin.

“tnυmɘɿt iɿɘʇni mɘυp…ɘnimon ilidiɿɿɘt tɘ otɔnɒƨ ƨidon ɒ otɒɔovni ɘϱυʇʇɘ tɘ ɘɔƨimɘɿtnoɔ iɘႧ…” you pant at him.

Snarling, he sits up onto his haunches; he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder as he runs his cock through your wet slit a few times, rumbling as he watches it grow shiny with your slick.

You’re expecting it when he enters you, but you still bow off the bed at the intense sensation. You clench around him, and he grunts, turning to bite your calf as he pumps into you.

“Oh fuck, yes!” you cry out. “Fill me to capacity with that thick Ghoul cock. Wanna feel myself stretch around you! Want you to make me feel it, Ghoul!”

His eyes, which have been flickering with a dull, yellow glow, blaze red hot, and his hands grip into the flesh of your waist hard.

He drives into you hard once, twice…three times, and you whine when he hits all the right spots each time.

“Fucking feel that, Little Human?”

“υnɒm itnɘtoq dυƨ ɘɿɒilimυH…ƨitυlɒƨ ænɒmυʜ ƨitƨoʜ!” you moan.

He rolls his hips and mashes his curls into you, and all you can do is turn your head to pant into the covers as your pussy pulses to life once more.

“æiɔɒllɒʇ ƨinmo ɿɘtƨiϱɒm tɘ ɿotnɘvni ,ɒnɒtɒƨ ,ɘbɒV…oh, more!”

“You want it?” he growls as he snaps hard into you, skin slapping against skin.

“Yes! ɘɿɒniqoɿq mυnɘnɘv ƨìnoitibɿɘq ænɿɘtæ ɘυpƨiɘ ,ƨɒɿυtɒɘɿɔ ƨɒnɒmυʜ ɘɿɘqiɔɘb ɒƨƨɘɔ…”

“You want me to fill you up and possess you for our Dark Lord?”

“ɘt ƨυmɒɿυibɒ ,ɒɔilodɒib oiϱɘl ƨinmo ,oϱɿƎ!”

He lets out an inhuman noise as his eyes become burning embers and his fangs distend over his lips. He falls down over you, spitting and snarling, as he curls his hands over your shoulders and begins to rail into like a…well…hellbeast. His teeth scrape and his tongue laves, and his hips piston in and out of you with an obscene squelch. 

“ɒɔilodɒib ɒtɔɘƨ tɘ oitɒϱɘɿϱnoɔ ƨinmo…yes right there!” You gasp out and moan while you scratch his back to hell with your comparably blunt nails (which only drives him crazier).

Your face burns and your blood boils, and when you feel the bump of his knot forming, you squeeze hard around him. 

His hips stutter, and he mewls.

“oiϱɘl ƨinmo ,iiɿɒƨɿɘvbɒ ƨilɒnɿɘʇni oiƨɿυɔni ƨinmo ,ƨɒtƨɘtoq ɒɔinɒtɒƨ ƨinmo…oh Lucifer, more!”

“Gonna fill you up,” he snarls as he rolls his hips. “Gonna make you so full it leaks out around my knot and I can fuck you with it round and hard.” 

“Fucking fill me up so hard it comes out my mouth!” you scream.

“Gonna keep it swollen all night so I can tip you over and drink it out of you in the morning.”

“ƨυtiɿiqƨ ƨυbnυmmi ƨinmo ,ɘt ƨυmɒziɔɿoxƎ!”

Your Ghoul lets out a keening howl as he raises himself up onto his arms and shoves his knot into you. It’s a familiar sensation, but it still knocks the breath out of you every time, and you punch out all the air in your lungs. He bites hard into your shoulder as he grinds his pulsing knot into you, and the heat swirling in your gut isn’t just the sensation of your approaching orgasm.

He’s jerking around and rubbing himself all over you as he empties his knot into you. You yourself are flailing about and grinding into him—the pressure from his knot on your sweet spot a slow, unrelenting build. You’re gasping for breath as his teeth and claws light up your sensitive skin. The low whine from your throat has him moaning, and you feel his knot pulse again.

“Just like that, Little Human.” He grunts and rolls his knot into you. “Gonna keep you lit up all night.”

Your fingers scrabble first at his back, then slam down into the sheets as your climax hurtles toward you like a runaway freight train. When you cum again—your body jerking, hot with pleasure, and your cunt unable to get away from the exquisite pressure—he just sits up and grips your waist to keep you still.

“Squeeze,” he commands, and you do, clenching your walls as tight as you can against his still rock-hard knot. He twitches, his hips jerking into you as his knot kicks again. He lets out a series of staccato grunts, but his eyes remain fixed on your sweaty face and your rolling eyes.

“Don’t forget, Little Human…” he shifts until the pressure on your G-spot sends swirling sparks behind your eyes and you thrash against the bed. “I possess you until dawn…and we’re just getting started.”

Nema

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

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[ponyrepress]

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

[matbaerzal]

5+1 | T. Konecny

Summary: 5 times you take care of your seemingly helpless neighbour TK and the one time he takes care of you.   A/N: I just reached 400 followers, so consider this my thank you for sticking around! hope you like this :) Warnings: multiple swears (it’s TK, what do you expect), mentions of blood Words: 3,4K Copyright © @matbaerzal 2020 All Rights Reserved

I You’d met Travis Konecny a couple times, running into him in the hallway. Your conversations never went past small talk. You already knew who he was and what he did for a living and even though you never covered the subject during your talks, he knew that you knew. He also knew that you didn’t really care, that to you, he was just a neighbour you talked about the weather with. So when you see him one afternoon in the hallway as he’s about to unlock his door, you don’t hesitate to say hello. Only after noticing his split knuckles, “Jesus, what happened there?” you exclaim. He looks down at his hands “oh, I’ve just come from a game”. “Do you usually end up like this after a game?” you laugh. He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “it happens, I guess”. He goes to put his key in the door but fumbles a bit and drops it on the floor. He swears under his breath, leaning his head back and brushing his hand over his face. Meanwhile, you walk the few steps over to him bending down to get his key, going to unlock the door for him. “There you go” you say slightly amused at his reaction to dropping his keys, “thanks” he says with what you think is a blush to his cheeks. “No worries, anytime” you say as you turn back to your own door, smiling back at him one last time before entering your apartment.

II It’s not long until the next time you see him, and somehow his knuckles look worse than they did last time. “Another game?” you ask him. He looks confused before he notices you’re looking at his hands. “Uh, yeah, yesterday” he admits, a guilty look on his face. He’s got a couple bags of groceries on the floor next to his already open door, he leans down to take them, but one of the handles breaks, and it falls to the floor, making all its contents spill out on the hallway. You try to contain a laugh, thinking this guy really doesn’t have a ton of good luck. “Shit, that’s just great,” he exaggerates. This time you can’t contain your laugh, going to help him collect some of the items. “You really don’t have to,” ignoring him you continue to collect as much as you can hold. “A thank you would be nice” you joke. He grabs the bag that’s still intact with his free hand and holds the door open for you to enter. “Thank you” he finally says as you get to his kitchen. As you’d been too busy trying to collect his groceries, you hadn’t noticed that somehow the wounds on his knuckles had reopened. You don’t think he’s even noticed himself. There’s not much blood, but enough to have you worried, and on instinct you grab his hand to inspect it. You don’t see the look of surprise he gives you, as you’re too focused on his hand. He finally notices the blood after you say “do you have any cleansing alcohol around?”. “No, I don’t think so” he mumbles, your head shoots up to give him a judgy look. “How do you not have that? You seem like you’d need it on a weekly basis,” you drop his hand and start to walk towards your own apartment. “I’ll be right back” you tell him.

When you come back all his groceries are put away and he’s sat by the kitchen island waiting for you. You place a bag of cotton balls on the counter, take one out, put some alcohol on it and you place the bottle next to the bag. Putting your hand out, you wait for him to give you his hand. You smile when he does and focus your attention on his hand. He winces slightly, but then clears his throat in an attempt to cover it up. You’re too focused on his hand to notice him staring at you, trying to memorize the features of your face. He was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in the hallway, and he kicks himself after every time you two talk. For not being able to hold a proper conversation and only talking about the weather, and other boring, insignificant things. When he told Nolan about his cute neighbour, he’d laughed at him, saying it’s a good thing he doesn’t talk too much around you, that it would definitely ruin his chances and just annoy you.

Now that you’re here in his apartment though, holding his hand, he grows restless. “Have you ever been to a game?” he says before he can stop himself. You’re almost done with his hand, doing the last couple touches, “It’s been a while, to be honest” you admit. “My dad’s a flyers fan, so I went to some games growing up” you continue. “Your dad’s a fan, eh?” he teases, “yeah, I think he’d have a heart attack if he found out you’re my neighbour” you blush. The situation only gets worse when you realize you’re still holding his hand, when you don’t really need to anymore. You quickly drop it and clear your throat, “where can I throw these out?” you ask, referring to the used cotton balls. “Oh don’t worry about it, I’ll do it, thank you for…” unsure of how to say it he just puts his hand up. “No problem, I- uh, I should get going, but I’ll see you around, yeah?” you stress, already starting to leave. “Sure yeah, don’t forget these '' he says, holding out the alcohol and cotton balls, “you can keep those, I think you need them more than I do” you joke before leaving his apartment.

III One day a couple weeks later there’s a knock on your door. When you open it, you find Travis on the other side with a sheepish look on his face. He's holding the cleansing alcohol and the cotton balls in his hands. Once again his knuckles are split, “I was cleaning and stuff, and they reopened, would you mind helping me out?” he says with a shy tone. You open your door wider motioning for him to enter, “I’m starting to suspect you’re a bit of a goon” you laugh. He snorts “me? A goon??” he feigns offence. You lead the way into your living room and sit down on the couch. He places the alcohol and the cotton on your table and sits next to you. “I’d say I have enough evidence to prove my case at this point” you say as you start the cleaning process. You’re not sure if he blushes or if you’re just imagining it, so you focus your attention back on his hand.

“Would you ever want to come to a game?” he says. “I mean, I could get you tickets if you wanted to go to one” he clarifies. His question catches you off guard, not expecting him to offer anything in return for your help. You look up at him, “I mean, yeah, that’d be- I’d get to see why you get into so much trouble” you stumble in your words before deciding to tease him. He chuckles “ok, great. We’re going on the road tomorrow, but we have a couple home games next week. How’s Saturday?”. You smile, thinking for a second if you have plans next weekend, “Saturday works” you conclude. He goes back to his apartment when you’ve finished up, promising to get you that ticket to the game.

IV You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, and you swear you caught him staring at you the last time you saw him, which made you think maybe he thought the same about you. And then there was the fact he asked you to help him clean his knuckles when he’d be perfectly able to do it himself. And he’d left the cleansing alcohol at your apartment sheepishly admitting he was likely to come to you if it happened again. You couldn’t help but find his helplessness a bit charming. You also had to admit to watching his away games, surprised to see that he only got into one fight, though he looked like he was fine afterwards. Though his attitude on the ice explained why he ended up in fights in the first place, annoying people without end.

You knew he was back home, having checked out his schedule, but you were still surprised when he knocked on your door. You didn’t expect to see him until Saturday before or after the game he’d invited you to. You were in the kitchen making dinner, so you walked over to your door. “Hey, what’s up?” you say when you see him, his knuckles seem fine, so you wondered what could’ve possibly brought him to your door. “Hey, do you have any potatoes I could borrow? I forgot to buy some earlier,” He says. “Yeah, sure. You making dinner?” you reply, walking back into the kitchen to find what he needed. “Well I was about to start when I realized I was missing potatoes” he chuckles. “Fuck, that smells amazing” he mutters as he enters the kitchen after you. You laugh, “thank you, would you like some?”, only after realizing you’ve basically invited him to have dinner with you. You blush, and hope he doesn’t notice. “Sure, I guess I don’t need the potatoes anymore then” he says, smirking. “I guess so” you laugh, “would you like anything to drink?” you offer. You take out two plates and start plating the food, “just water’s fine” he says.

You walk over to the dining table with the plates and motion for him to sit. After placing the plates on the table you go to the kitchen to get your drinks and cutlery. You give him his water before finally sitting down, placing his knife and fork next to his plate. Travis is scanning his brain for something other than the weather to talk about when he takes the first bite. “God, that’s amazing” he hums, his mouth full of food you can barely understand what he’s saying. “You’ve been this good at cooking all along? And you decided to keep that from me?” He says after finally swallowing his first bite. You roll your eyes “So I’m meant to make you dinner now, too?” you say. “I mean I’m already cleaning you up after every fight you have” you continue teasing him. This time you swear you see him blush, and he shrugs “I wouldn’t complain if you did”. “I sure hope not, I’d kill to have someone make me dinner everyday” you joke.

The conversation flows easily between you two from there on, and Travis throws in a compliment here and there. He starts with complimenting the dinner once again, and then he makes a comment about your apartment being nice. Then he blushes again as he thanks you for looking after him and taking care of his knuckles. Which is when you bring up that you’d watched a couple of the games. His whole face lights up “Wait, really?”, “Yeah, I wanted to know what to expect on Saturday, I guess” you admit. With that he abruptly checks the time, “shit, it’s getting late. Look, I hate to be lame but-”, you interrupt him “you have a game tomorrow, it’s ok, I get it”. You blush at the fact that you just revealed knowing his schedule, and he smirks at you, deciding not to comment on it. You get up to follow him to your door, feeling like you could have sat for hours talking to him if he didn’t have to go. He surprises you by wrapping his arms around you in a soft hug, “thank you again, for dinner” he murmurs before letting you go. His hands lingering on you for a moment longer. You're stuck in your spot, looking into his eyes, shaking yourself out of it, you give him a smile “yeah, no problem, anytime” you finally speak. With that he leaves, making you feel as if your night got cut short, leaving you wanting more. More of what, you’re not exactly sure, just more of him.

V You don’t get to see him before the game, but he’d given you the tickets and told you where to go. He’d said you’d be sitting by some of his teammates girlfriends, which you didn’t want to read into. Upon seeing you they asked you if you were TK’s girl, which made you blush, shrugging, saying that he’d invited you, but you weren’t his girl in that sense. At which they just smirked. During the whole game you saw him make great plays and occasionally annoy the opposing team. In the third period he managed to tie the game and then get in a fight in his next shift. He seemed to be fine, but you knew he’d probably make you check his knuckles after the game. They ended up winning the game towards the end of overtime. You’d been at the edge of your seat and on instinct you and the other girls jumped up and hugged each other when you heard the goal horn. You followed them to go meet Travis after the game, having promised him you’d drive him home after.

When he sees you he walks straight over to you, you barely have time to take in how good he looks in his game-day suit before he’s hugging you, you’re quick to hug him back. “How are your hands?” you ask as he lets you go, “They’ll be better after you have a look at them” he jokes. “I’m starting to think I’m just your caretaker” you shoot back. “You’re more than that, you know that” he says as he puts his arm around you. Waving goodbye to his teammates as he starts walking. You quickly wave to the girls you’d sat with, blushing as they’re all looking at his arm around your shoulder. He keeps it there the whole way to your car, and you can’t help but think about how natural it feels there. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. He lets you go when you get to your car, but puts his arm around you again the second you arrive at your building. You look at the hand rested on your shoulder, having noticed earlier that his knuckles are split once again. You take his hand on instinct, “try not to reopen them this time, yeah? I’m running out of cotton balls” you muse. “I’ll buy more, plus it’s a good excuse to come see you” he says like it’s obvious. You laugh “You don’t need an excuse, you can just come and see me, you know”.

You arrive at your door, and his arm leaves your shoulder for a second time. He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah, I just never seemed to know what to talk about around you, and when you helped me with my key that one time, that was probably the first time we talked about something other than the stupid weather” he laughs “and then I acted like a nervous teenager the next time and dropped all my groceries, but then we had an actual conversation, so I figured I’d just use that as an exuse.” he finishes. You try to hide your blush, but you notice he’s blushing too. He takes a step closer to you, his hand brushing up your arm. He hesitantly leans in, and you mirror his action. He’s so close, noses touching, eyes closing. All one of you has to do is take the last step and lean in. But as your phone rings you jump away from him. You scramble to check who’s calling “Sorry, it’s my dad, I should take this… I promised him I’d tell him about the game”. Travis nods, you smile apologetically as you answer your dad’s call. The two of you awkwardly retreat to each of your apartments.

VI Travis had to leave the next day, going on another roadtrip. You had his number, but you’d discovered he was terrible at replying to messages so you didn’t speak often. Plus you were both busy with work, so you didn’t have much time to text back and forth. You were left to wonder what would have happened if your dad hadn’t called. It was obvious you would have kissed, but where would that leave the two of you? What would the aftermath be?

The day he gets home you get a text from him, “Can you come help me with something?”. You had just gotten home from work so you text back saying you’ll be over in a minute. Going to change into something more comfortable, but you make sure to still look put together. And when you enter his apartment you’re glad you didn’t opt for the sweats that were calling your name. His lights are dimmed, and a couple candles are lit, and the smell of whatever he’s cooking fills the room. Surprisingly it doesn’t actually smell bad. You don’t think he heard you come in, because when you see him he’s moving to the music by the stove. You lean your shoulder on the wall, wanting to see how long it takes before he notices you. When he does though, he doesn’t stop dancing like you expected him too, his smile just grows, but there is a slight blush to his cheeks.

“How long have you been standing there?” he says, stopping his movements as a new song comes on. You ignore his question, “what’s all this? You got a date or something?” you ask him. “Yeah, and she just got here, right on time” he winks. Now it’s your turn to blush, pretty confident that he’s referring to you. “I realized maybe you feel like I’ve been using you, so I just wanted to do something for you. So you know that I don’t take you for granted” he continued. “And also I didn’t know if you’d actually want to go on a date with me, so I decided to just-” he gestures around the room, not sure how to finish his sentence. “Decided to trick me into one?” you laugh. “Just so you know, I would have said yes” you clarify. “Good, that’s good. Dinner’s almost ready, so just make yourself comfortable”. He behaves like a perfect gentleman, pouring wine in your glass, serving you dinner. “Did you catch this fish yourself?” you tease, knowing about his favorite spare time activity. He laughs “no, if I’d had time to, I would have”. You smile and take a sip of your wine. When you’re finished eating you both go to the kitchen to clear the dishes, you ignore him when he says you don’t need to help. Thinking the quicker they’re done, the quicker you two can move to the couch and address the elephant in the room.

When you finally get settled on the couch, his arm finds it way over your shoulder and you lean into him easily. He’s the first to break the silence, “you’re always on my mind. At any given moment you’re there, and it made me really nervous at first, but now everything just feels so natural” you hum in agreement. “You’ve somehow managed to lure your way into my mind too” you say and he nudges you for teasing him. You look up at him, and he’s a lot closer than you expected, yet not quite close enough. You really hope there won’t be any interruptions this time, though you’re sure you’d ignore it this time around. “I really like you, you know” he says, his eyes are focused on your lips, and as you lean in closer, noses touching, you close your eyes. “I really like you too” you sigh and wait for him to take the final step. His hand finds the nape of your neck before he finally leans in the rest of the way, lips softly touching. The first kiss is soft, almost hesitant, but it doesn’t take long before they’re firmer, more confident. You’re completely wrapped up in each other, time standing still. Not breaking away until you absolutely have to, to catch your breaths. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages now”, “me too” you smile, leaning in for another kiss. Not being able to stop now that you know what it feels like.