#Oh I do hope that's not an offensive thing to do draw or say

[borsch-yeek]

The idea came from a very very old twit where user described LnL' spray as something that reminds them of a bipolar disorder. Though in result I leaned more into a "split personality" thing

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been getting withdrawals from not making random worldbuilding characters that don’t matter to the actual plot. Anyways meet 60 👍

[xieni-logs]

cAn i request welt, jing Yuan, dan heng, blade and maybe even caelus with an s/o who's mute (like they can't speak) but they're very expressive with emotions and usually communicates thru writing on paper?? kinda got the idea from komi can't communicate

also a lil scenario on how the men would react if someone did or say something offensive to their s/o?

HSR x mute!reader (RQ)

includes: Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Welt

a/n: ty for your rq, anon! I actually started watching komi can't communicate since you said it, and ended up watching too much of it and writing too little lololol i made the scenario thing into someone saying something offensive about how reader is mute since we're on that topic already, hope thats ok! more a/n: I FORGOT ABOUT WELT, ADDED HIM NOW

* ˚ ✦ Jing Yuan who was initially curious behind why you couldn’t speak but no matter the reason, he wouldn't mind it. he finds your expressions cute, i mean who wouldn't? god, he can't believe anyone in their right mind could ever make a snarky remark about you. but they did, and Jing Yuan is gonna let that go easily. even if you say you're fine with that comment, he sure isn't. he doesn't go and threaten the person, instead he'll make their lives oh so annoying. they'll be denied service due to some obscure reason (a gag order from Jing Yuan; you seem to forget he's a general, he has a lot of influence), luck will never seem to be by their side either. and if they're a long-life species, well, they're in for a couple decades of annoyances. Jing Yuan isn't confrontational but he sure is petty.

* ˚ ✦ Blade originally found you being mute rather troublesome. it was a lot more work having to read your notes, and though you're fast at writing, Blade used to always complain about how slow you were at responses. but he slowly gets used to it, and in time, he finds himself enjoying your silent company. in all the chaos, Blade enjoys the comfortable silence between you two. if you want to talk, he'll read your notes and respond with nods or shakes of his head. he'll get pretty pissed hearing someone make a snarky remark on your lack of speech. there's nothing much he can and wants to do except brandish his sword at the person. after, Blade will give you a quick look of are you ok? before moving on. it's a small sweet gesture.

* ˚ ✦ Dan Heng who was neither curious nor cared about you being mute. he simply accepted it as a fact and continued. it doesn't really bother him, he has no qualms about it. but when someone says something offensive about your lack of speech, that's when he has a problem. why can't they mind their own business? he'll tell them a snarky remark before taking you away from the situation. it's not worth the trouble concerning the both of you with that person is what he'll think. Dan Heng will ask you if you're alright and assure you that what the person said is wrong. he'll make sure you know you are perfectly fine not speaking, you aren't abnormal for not speaking, and that it's part of your charm and one of the many things he likes about you.

* ˚ ✦ Welt who respects the fact you're mute. he doesn't pry into why you are but he'll listen if you want to explain. if you draw little faces on your notes to convey your expression, god, he's so weak to that. will indulge in drawing faces on your notes (smiley faces with a badly drawn thumbs up as an ok from him; it took him 5 minutes to draw that hand). he finds it unbelievable anyone would say something so passive aggressive about the fact you're mute. people can be so disrespectful! he disengages the situation and leaves, guiding you away with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. like Dan Heng, he'll reassure you that whatever was said was wrong. you'll never interact, or even see, that person again if he can help it.

[willowser-but-nsfw]

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; soft fantasy bakugou ; implied arranged marriage ; a lil' bit breeding kink-y ; some perceptions surrounding virginity that i only added because of the genre/setting (medieval fantasy-ish) and not because it aligns with my personal views ; reader and bkg do not speak the same language — but they are learning ; reader and bkg are both a little bit drunk, but very much consenting ; i invented a language for katsuki's people because i am hopeless.

[ wc ] — 4k+

[ ficmas ] — this is my silly little fic for the lovely, lovely @odieoats !! i hope that you enjoy it !! — but, most importantly, i hope that your holidays are treating you well and with love and that your new year be warm and welcoming 🧚‍♂️✨️🎁

It's Midwinter.

Shortest day and longest night of the year, Yagi tells you, and therefore cause for a feast. Never in all your life have you consumed as much mead as you have within the short three months since you've been married, and yet still you have not grown accustomed to it; the honeyed taste, yes, but not to the warm, woozy feeling that takes root between your ears.

One moment you are admiring the many gifts that adorn the great evergreen in the middle of camp, and the next you are cross-eyed, struggling to find the top of the tree and the carefully carved sun that reigns in favor of the Allfather. It's just so tall, you muse, stretching so far into the heavens that one could worry its beauty and grandeur might cause offense to their Gods. 

A hand is at your shoulder, then, to steady you. “Are you well, Chieftess?” 

Chieftess: another novelty with which to grow accustomed.

In the firelight, Yagi’s features are sharpened, shadows long and dark with worry. Frightening is the down-curve of his brow as he stares carefully into your eyes—so tall, you muse—but he must only find your drunkenness, as a smile softens his thin face.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you return it with ease, cheeks warm, and bring up the small, well-bundled plant in your hands. “It looks as if there’s no place for what my husband has given me.”

“Ah,” carefully, he takes it by the stem and holds it up high to better see, the contrast of its white berries crisp against the night sky. “And do you know where our Chieftain has gone?”

Like slow-falling snow, his words settle in your mind, the flurry of them gathering until the meaning is new and clear. You spin a slippery heel over the snow, looking across the encampment to where you'd last seen your husband: before, he was locked into a fierce embrace with Midoriya, too proud to turn down the invitation to wrestle, but now only his shield-brothers remain, arranged in a circle as they dance and chant and pound their heavy fists against their bare chests. Among the lot of them, you watch on for the ashen mess of his hair, the familiarity of the scars he bears, the drunken, crooked grin that comes so rarely—but Katsuki is not among them.

"I—" you breathe, dizzy, suddenly, as your eyes jump from warm-body to warm-body in search of him. With the fires roaring, the camp is aglow and clouding your vision in an amber haze, and you don't realize you've begun to spin until a firm hand steadies you again.

“Mistletoe,” your Elder murmurs in translation, drawing you from the honeyed-hold. Giant that he is, finding an open branch on the tree poses no issue, and he hangs your gift with a care that melts a nameless tension; still, their traditions are foreign, another language you struggle to interpret. “It says that Young Bakugou is…giving you great love and…asking for your fertility.”

"Fertility?" Such heat flushes your face that you wonder if it could be steaming, and the waver in your voice makes him laugh.

"A common thing wanted of a claimed man," Yagi chimes, voice like mischief as he bows his head to take his leave. Off somewhere behind you is where his gaze falls and freezes, where it thaws and warms with admiration. Your Elder nods, and when you turn to follow his lead, you see why such seasons could come and go in his eyes. "The night will be long, Chieftess, and one should not spend Midwinter alone."

Katsuki stands at the worn-end of the trodden camp trail with shoulders back and squared, covered by the grand furs of his cloak; a God already watching on. It must be the mead that has made him so crystalline and easy to see through, as there's not a hint of hesitation in his gaze as it darkens and lids, as he slowly pulls the material from his broad back in a gesture that seems all too inviting.

And then he is turning, leaving the young night and its celebration for the sanctity of your shared tent.

You are left within the heat of the fire, all too aware, then, of how it has slipped beneath your furs with such a smoldering intensity; the Elder's revelation has a fever starting in your belly and sweat breaking across your skin.

It has been six days since you've last laid with your husband.

A full fortnight had passed before your marriage was consummated, for no other reason than that you were untouched and afraid. Before knowing him as you do now, Bakugou Katsuki came across as little more than a brute, one that seemed likely to hold you down and ravage you as he so pleased, as your mother had tried to warn you, and yet the night of your wedding, he sat across the pillows and told you that he, too, was just as untouched.

Standoffish and a bit shy, more drawn to actions than words as there were not many the two of you shared. Midoriya has been a constant presence, always dragged one way or another so that he may translate the more difficult words Katsuki is most unfamiliar with. Some nights you can hear them near the hearth, the voice of your husband low as he tries in earnest to learn all that he wishes to say to you. 

To enter his manhood with one he so loved is considered a great honor, as Yagi had told you, and to hear him sounding at words in the dark that are so foreign to him, to know that he was just as pure as you, to learn that you were not a thing to be ravaged, but to be cared for; love-making after that seemed only natural.

You watch the firelight dance against the canvas of the tent, wild and without caution, hindered only by your shadow as you approach. Katsuki's boots lay at the entrance—one on its side and the other upright—and despite the snow and ice covering the ground, you shed your own right beside his.

If he hears you enter—and you're sure he must, the savage beat of your heart at the very least, something attuned to his ear only—he offers nothing; instead, his head is back, leaned over the edge of the round, steel tub that sits across from the hearth. Even from where you stand, the steam wisping above the water is visible, causing you to shiver as you begin to undress; if there is one thing you will always have with a Chieftain of Dragons, it’s a boiling bath.

The rustle of your furs finally captures him and Katsuki raises his head just to turn it, to peer over his shoulder at you with one bright red eye. Slow, he blinks, the heat of his gaze searing over your body as it becomes bare to him, lingering on the few, faded burns that sit at your hips from when last you were together. 

Virginal and green as he once was, your husband did not—and still does not—lack enthusiasm whenever he is tangled up within you; the ache you’ve been nursing in your lower belly in the recent days seems to have subsided, though you wonder if it is only your rapidly building arousal that has dissolved pain to pleasure. One broad hand breaks the surface of the water to rise and trace over your forearm, and Katsuki looks at you as if you are a deity to worship—and you find you couldn’t care less about any lingering soreness.

"May I join you?" 

Already he’s begun to make room for you, but he hums in assent, nodding. "Yes." 

At your hiss of surprise from the temperature of the water, a crooked grin breaks across his face and he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he presses his mouth into the soft skin below your belly button. Not to kiss but just to soothe, laving you with a drunken affection. 

When you can finally stand it, Katsuki pulls you into his lap, slotting your legs around his hips with such ease that you need not ask the Gods if he was made for you or you for him; one and the same, you are, neither existing without your shared heart. Its beat flourishes, spreading to the points of your fingers and the pit of your stomach and the thick of your neck. Only now do your bones thaw, made warm from the water and the lingering dregs of mead and his love, from the home he has made your own.

You kiss away the natural crease of his brow, following down the marks of war that scar his cheeks, his neck. It earns you a small grunt and he eventually turns, overwhelmed, then, by your attention to his intimate details.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, “for the gift. I didn’t—” guilt rushes through you like a winter wind, returning with a bite for all that you still have to learn of his people. Your people. “I didn’t think to find one for you.”

“No need for gift.” He murmurs, into your skin like a secret.

A frown he doesn’t see deepens your lips, and you run your now wet hands through the strands of hair at the base of his spine, dampening them. “I would have liked to give you one.”

“No need for gift.” Katsuki repeats, pinching you beneath the water until you are squirming against him, until you can argue no longer. His hands grow bold, mapping you carefully, adding every crease and curve to what he already knows of your body. 

You speak up when he cups your bottom, before either of you can get too lost. “Yagi tells me it’s a symbol of love, your mistletoe.”

It does little to distract him; the fine point of his nose drags up the column of your throat, breath tickling just under your ear. “...yes.”

“And…fertility.”

Katsuki’s head pops up then, eyebrow raised. “Hah?”

“For—” you pause, thinking, “—having children.”

A common thing wanted of a claimed man, Yagi told you, but in the slow burning light of the hearth, your husband’s face pinkens and he glances away, instead watching his hands below the water. It’s something you know is expected, though it remains a conversation yet to be had, perhaps when you know the words, the both of you; in the meantime, you’ll continue to learn his sensitivities and delights, to teach him yours—all that there is left to know, at least.

“Yes,” he murmurs, fitting his thumbs back into the grooves he’s left on your hips, what of his hands he’s engraved in your skin. Despiste the claim it marks on you, Katsuki frowns, watching you carefully as his fingers move in slow, firm circles. “Pain here?”

“No,” you smile, to this man that you thought would ruin you. “No pain.”

Warmed, he spreads beneath you easily, shifting you along with him as he presses where you are soft to where he is hard. The pressure surprises you both despite the heady weight circulating throughout the tent, and Katsuki exhales like he wants his breath to move through you. 

"For love," he speaks to your heart, the devotion molded in his image. "And…what is it?"

You snort, pressing your lips into his hairline. "And fertility."

He is silent for a long moment, thinking in your tongue, before planting kiss after kiss along your chest, your collarbones, the hollow of your throat. "'n givin' babies."

A true laugh startles out of you, shaking you both with its sincerity, but Katsuki only continues to sigh into your skin, his hands moving to the dip of your waist, up the stretch of your spine and back, walking every last mile of your distance. 

There's a soft tickle from where his mouth trails and you think he means to make you squirm again, but you soon realize he is murmuring —"...engitt vakvaniki?"—though you think the words are more for him than yourself; a reiteration, some kind of assurance that you've outgrown the intimate soreness he once gave you.

"No," you breathe again, quietly. "No pain."

It's all the promise he needs: Katsuki's grip tightens, meaningful, and then he is pushing and pulling you over him until the stars are shooting through your every nerve. A haze develops in the soft bicolor of both his eyes, and you can see him fighting to find you through the clouds as you follow the silent commands of his hunger.

Desire leads you; top to bottom, back and forth, head to base. Against your chest, you can feel the slight part of his mouth, the flare of his nostrils as the lap of the water grows. One of his arms slowly winds behind your waist as you gasp, the swollen tip of him catching your most sensitive spot, tenderness making you both groan.

You lose yourself to the movement, dragging just behind Katsuki's stifled, narrow upward thrusts. Wide as the tub may be, it's nothing to having him underneath you amidst his thick, woolen blankets, but the seedlings of lust are growing, blooming, into something with roots you don't want to unearth just yet.

Fingers tangle in your hair, angling your head down towards him so that he can press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your lips; full of bite and teeth, revealing what little control he has over the animal of his body, just as wild and without caution as the fires that blaze in a dragon's honor.

But—his attention to the water is lost and its heat is steadily fading, smothered out by the winter winds slipping between the flaps of your tent. A shudder wracks your spine, but despite the rough hand that trails up to cup your breast, their stiff peak isn't from Katsuki's touch.

Voice low, you pull back just enough to fit the gruff of his name, stopping him mere seconds from sucking your soft, pebbled skin into his mouth.

His eyes dart up to your face, half-lidded. "Hah?"

If he wasn't so cute, you might prove a stronger willed woman; a light kiss to his nose has him scrunching it, and a light kiss to his lips has him surging, welcoming the wet dip of your tongue into his mouth.

Only when the frost creeps further in are you able to steady yourself, now swollen and bitten. "I'm cold."

As if finding himself after ages lost, Katsuki leans back, seemingly surprised, to peer down into the water, glaring at it like it's betrayed him in some way. With a lip between his teeth, his attention shifts from you to the nest of furs you've been bedding in this season, and it's not long before his arms are tightening around your body.

"No, wait—!"

He rises at once, laughing meanly in your ear as you struggle to cling to him; in return, you bite his lobe and snort into his cheeks as he hurries across the tent. Cradling the back of your head as if you were a child, as if you were something more special than you are, Katsuki lays you down amongst the wool and feathers, eager to slot himself behind you.

A shiver tears through even him, has him burying his face into your neck as he pulls the blanket up around your heads. It only takes a moment for his hands to heat, for his heat to spread, to have you loose and wide open once again; hips against your backside, your husband hikes your leg up, tucking your foot behind his thigh so that you are bared for the fever of his touch.

"Need no gift," the words are lost to your gasp, when the too-light pad of his fingers swirl where you are tender and slick. "No-thing but you."

And then the thick weight of him is gliding over your core, teasing, before he can no longer stand to be without you; a plead falls from his mouth as he guides himself into you, needy and wanton against your temple. Surrounded by his love and touch and sounds and entwined in such a way has your stomach tight with want, and with every inch Katsuki pulls out and pushes back in, you angle your hips so that he is seated as deep as your body will allow. 

"Katsuki," you gasp at how he carves himself into your nave, arching your back and groping blindly at his body.

One of his hands finds your cheeks and he seizes them, turning your face so that he may press his lips into yours. "Fuck," he hisses, capturing a rhythm that rattles you both. "Var in svo—good. Fuck, s'good."

You can only wordlessly agree, settling for a noise he eagerly drinks down. Only once he's certain your head will not fall away from him does his hand return to the seam of your body, pads of his fingers stroking you and the mess already leaking down your thighs. When your lips part, he hums in appreciation and presses down further, as if your pleasure is feeding his own.

The wet sound of skin against skin grows, a drumbeat to the song you both sing as your fires rage; sweat builds in all your creases and curves, dampens your hairline and his as you fall prey to a savagery you once feared—and now have come to crave.

Katsuki groans into your mouth, worship in a language you do know. The rough drag of him in and out of your heat never ceases and beneath your touch, he starts to tremble, too deep into something neither of you can stand.

"Ah," he props himself up on an elbow, fingers digging into the fat of your hips so that he may pull you to meet his every thrust. You look back over your shoulder at him, core pulsing at how his head has fallen slack, with mouth open and eyes shut as he fucks himself into a euphoria he only finds with you.

You make a weak attempt at his name, lost in the throes of your own pleasure, and wait for the hot spill of him inside of you, but—you are all at once empty.

"I—shit," a hand is fisted into his own hair like he's trying to hold back his tide, to keep it low for now. His skin gleams in the firelight, a God wrapped in gold.

Chest heaving, he shuffles around your leg, finding the home between your thighs as he presses a weak trail of kisses down your chest, down your sternum and to your stomach. You know where he's going; at the mere thought of how he drank from you the last time you were together, your core clenches, something that doesn't go unnoticed by him as his crooked smile is pressed into your skin.

It's an act that still has you a bit shy, and as the furs shift and the cold clings to the droplets lingering on your skin, you shiver. Katsuki struggles a bit to bunch himself up beneath the blanket, so that he and you may stay covered, and the stars are still burning in your veins, in your nerves, and so you pull at his shoulders.

"Later," you can't help but to laugh when he frowns. "When it's not so cold."

Words you know to be little, childish insults tumble from his lips, foreign, as he crawls back up the expanse of your body. You tug a bit harshly on his hair and his lips curl, the brat, mischievous and taunting with a bite to your cheek.

"Baby," he grumbles, although smiling.

You mean to nip back at him, but Katsuki pulls one of your legs over his shoulders and your attention is drawn to his body now that it sits in plain view. Scars that color him, that bear proof to the strength he's grown; such a body like his seems carved from marble, and your heart softens at every memory of his unfouded shyness.

A God at your center, heart shared. Katsuki looks upon you just as you look upon him and the honey-mead warms in your belly, drips down your spine with the weight of all the love you hold for him—and he for you.

You tell him quietly, as he bows his head to spit where he means to join you. "Ig siggna vik."

Though the words fit odd inside your mouth, their shape is known to him; he glances up as if in awe, and his answer is a breathless exhale of your name as he slips inside you once again. His face goes directly to your neck, already trembling hands slipping up to hold your face so that you are always close, so that his breath is yours and your moans are his.

"Var in svo hott," he tells you again; it's so good, a common phrase that has your threads wearing thin.

It's take little time before he is falling back into the same bruising pace, chasing the high you're eager to grant him. You fist a hand in his hair as his teeth sink into your skin, as he bullies into the sweet spot that has your stars aligning, has them shining behind the lids you can't help but to close.

"Fuck," you breathe, arching into him. "Katsuki—Gods—"

Your vulgarity has his breath pitching and exhaling sharply and he stops, only for one long, horrible moment, before he can't bear it.

"Fu—sorry," he breaks, the sound so fragile on his tongue. It's not a word you've ever heard from him and your chest tightens at the thought of him asking Midoriya for it. "Sorry, sorry."

With a desperate moan, he's sitting back on his knees, brow crumpling as his eyes are forced shut. "Oh, I—" and his hold finds the dip of your waist, grip tight enough to steal your breath so that he can pull you up into him as he cums. Deep and hard, shoulders shaking as he tenses over you, groaning on such a low sound that your own tide nearly crests.

The sight of your husband—Chieftain of Dragon's, the warlord that won you from the hands of your father, that loves you as winter loves the wind—reduced to ashes at your heat, trembling on the breeze as he twitches and spills inside of you; wild is your desire, without caution.

Katsuki only takes the time to press a sloppy kiss into your cheeks, to push back the damp hair that has fallen into your face before his hands are re-molding to your hips. Though you are more than slick enough, still he leans back to spit into the space between you, spreading the wetness as he circles you again with the pad of his thumb.

And then you are following not far behind him: it's the pressure around your tenderness and the deep sink of him inside you and the eyes rolling back into his head as he fucks through his own sensitivity. Your cries mingle, him at the sudden flutter of your walls, and you at the honeyed-bliss that he gives you.

"I—fuck," he pants, running a hand up your stomach as your trembling slows into delayed, sporadic aftershock. You feel him kick inside of you at the sight and you laugh despite your sudden weariness. "I love you."

Though he is flushed in you and the firelight, his cheeks brighten, if possible, like such an admission is yet another display of his idle bashfulness. You smile and his own grows in return, crooked and dazzling, and you open your arms for him to slump down onto you.

Katsuki does, but it's not long before he is reaching to toss the wool off his back, murmuring, "hot," into your ear—and then because he is a terror, he hisses, "baby," too, like an overgrown child. 

There are other words he whispers into your skin, some you know and some you don't. Some you'll come to learn, some he'll share with you, this language that will tell him all you cannot. You're not worried, however, at either his understanding or yours, with a love as true as stars in the sky, like white berries—crisp—against even the longest and darkest nights.

[valley-of-headcanons]

You asked for request so here’s a fun silly one. Bachelor reacting to the farmer getting annoyed and yelling “Bite me!” In the middle of a fight/argument. Do they? Don’t they? Or does it just had fuel to the fire? Enjoy and have fun~

bachelors reacting to “bite me!” || headcanons

in the middle of a small argument, your words move faster than your brain. well, here goes nothing!

warnings: slightly suggestive at times? not really tho

requested by: anon! hiya, thank you so much for requesting! sorry for the mini-hiatus. life moves so fast sometimes. this isn't really well written, i apologize, not my finest but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! <3

alex

• Alex stared at you for a minute. The nature of the argument was playful, and your statement made him just want to tease you more. He playfully smirked at you, placing his hands on your hips with a small chuckle. He was pretty tall, so he was most likely looking down at you, a devilish grin on his lips.

• “Where?” he said, laughing softly. Seeing your face grow red, realizing what you've just said, he held back his laughter. He loved seeing you all flustered, and he's sure you just said that out of instinct. “Now you're getting all shy? You're no fun,” he fake-pouted. He released his grasp and watched you practically explode. It was really, really entertaining for him.

elliott

• Elliott wasn't expecting such a remark from you. He gasped playfully, placing a hand on his chest. It was like you had just insulted his entire family line and spit on his grave. How dare you say such a thing! He was really playing up his response, drawing it out in his dramatic way. That's just Elliot, and you absolutely love to see it.

• “Why would you say something so cruel?! To even suggest that I would do something as crude as biting you? That's preposterous! Gosh- that is so offensive- I don't think we should speak anymore. I will never utter a single word in your direction for the rest of eternity. Goodbye,” he said, his hand coming up to block you. He didn't mean it, he loves messing around in his own little way. What a man.

harvey

• Harvey's face flushed a bright red. He didn't expect such a comment, and it made his stomach do a somersault. He cleared his throat, taking a step back. Readjusting his coat, Harvey wracked his brain for things to say. You were so smug about it! You just stared at him with a big ole grin. Little bastard. He had no idea what to respond with, becoming a stuttering mess!

• “W-What?- wh- ... huh? H- ... How does that even come to mind in a situation like this? ... why would I bite you?- oh- you meant it as- ... I apologize for the misunderstanding- ... what do you mean, it's cute?!” he said, getting even more flustered as you kept going. The poor guy can never catch a break while you're around. You may be a menace to society, but you're Harvey's menace.

sam

• Sam says the phrase pretty often, so the fact that you started saying it practically warms his heart. But he's been waiting for the day someone says it to him. His perfect response, his perfect rebuttal. Sam doesn't get these moments often, so he's prepared! This is it, he's going to get you back so good! Hah, you're going to be practically speechless after you hear this!

• “Bite you? ... uhh- ... no, you probably taste like- ... hot dog water, or something else ... equally ... gross ... man, I really thought I had a good comeback this time,” Sam laughed, looking away nervously. He's just a little dumb, but you have to admit, it was probably the best response to that statement you've ever heard. So yeah, it did leave you speechless. Maybe not in the intended way, though.

sebastian

shane

• Sebastian softly smiled at your stupid little remark. It was cute, he had to admit. You were really cute in his eyes anyway. He loved you being “annoying,” even though others might not. It was amusing, and he loved every little aspect of you. Your little quirks are always fun to analyze on his end. So, he wanted to see how you'd react to this.

• “So you argued with me to ask me that? I would've done it without the argument, I'd bite you whenever,” he said, his face flushing softly. Yeah, he didn't think he'd say something like that either. You were bringing a playful and slightly more confident side out of him! Your face was just about as flushed as he was, both of you now sitting in flustered silence. How the tables have turned.

• Shane was going to fuck with you. Of course he was. His dry sense of humor, his slight pettiness. He loved fucking with you in little ways like this, especially when you were “upset.” His face was completely deadpan, staring at you for a few seconds. Silence filled the room for quite some time before he gave his response, leaving you questioning what was going through his head.

• “Disgusting. Why would you ever suggest that? That's fucking gross, man,” he'd say, before moving closer and softly sinking his teeth into your neck. He'd pull away, a smug grin on his face. “Don't ever suggest that again. Do you think that I'd do something as revolting as biting you? Geez, you need some serious therapy.”

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Four

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

Your mentor’s dojo is pretty far out, but you’ve gotten used to the trek. This part of Megapolis is… gloomy, to say the least. It seems like a dark cloud falls over every building here, leaving the atmosphere sluggish and tense.

Your mentor’s dwellings especially fall into the pitch hands of darkness, tucked uncozily between crowded buildings.

With no greenery and little color, this part of the city has always left you with a slight sense of unease. Once, you had attempted to amend this in some small way, potting up freesia and yellow roses to try and add a splash of brightness around the house.

Only a few days after the flowers had bloomed, someone had come by in the night and sliced them to pieces, leaving the shredded stems and petals scattered across the concrete.

Taking pity on your efforts, your mentor had dragged those pots inside and planted something more to his liking- tansies and black dahlias.

“At least they left the pots alone,” you had said, sighing at the pointless destruction of something utterly harmless. You’d been misting the new flowers, ensuring they’d grow healthy and vibrant even when deprived of direct sunlight and fresh air.

“How do you stand living in this part of town when people pull things like this?”

“Heh. No one’s ever bothered me before, kiddo. Could just be that you look like an easy target for some of the freaks in this part of town.”

“Actually… you know what? I think we’ve gotta get something that leave you looking a little fiercer. Cause, uh… no offense, kiddo… but you look like a baby.”

“I do not,” you had quickly insisted, putting the spray bottle down to fold your arms and frown at him.

“You keep telling yourself that, kiddo. And hey, maybe one day it’ll be true, but, as it stands… you’re adorable and no one is scared of you.”

His hand comes to rest over your hair, ruffling the strands out of place.

“Look, we’ll have to fix you up something that’s more intimidating than endearing. Next time you come over, alright?”

“…next time sounds good.”

———————————————————————-

Even though the weather is still decently warm, coming all this way out leaves you fighting chills as you traverse the shadowed streets. Something about this place feels wrong.

Maybe that was; in part, what had driven you to wearing concealer. Not only to prevent the concern of kind souls like MK and Mister Pigsy, but to prevent yourself from looking weak in front of dangerous enemies or opportunistic freaks that lurked in dirty alleyways.

Picking up the pace just enough that you don’t seem to be running (another sign of weakness), you hurry to the house- you’ve always referred to it as a ‘dojo’, but the man training you has always liked calling it a ‘lair’. Given the location, it doesn’t seem like too much of a misnomer.

He’s always had a knack for the dramatic, acting at times almost like a theater major.

Another chill, like you’re being watched or followed.

Now, you start to run. Maybe it’s childish, maybe it’s outright stupid. But you’re actually scared.

Moving just fast enough that you won’t jostle the mooncake boxes, you throw one hand upon his door, hoping that he’s home.

From a nearby alleyway, two faces of pitch black, golden eyes with leering expressions. Arms and hands and ears painted red.

Oh, god.

With a shared laugh, they move forward. Their eyes do not leave yours.

Oh, god.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You smash your fist against the sturdy barrier, uncaring if your frantic banging draws more attention. You need to be inside and away from this awful, awful neighborhood and whatever the hell is approaching.

“C’mon, c’mon! Open the door! Please!”

At the sound of even a slight pleading in your tone, the wood in front of you flies open, a powerful black-furred arm reaching to snag you.

Macaque drags you inside without hesitation, slamming and bolting the door shut.

“Kiddo, what the hell?”

You throw yourself into his arms, breaking into tears. The Mystic Monkey takes a moment to regard you, just barely able to bite back a knowing smile.

“See something scary, huh?”

He breaks up your sobs and hiccups with a few firm back thumps, using his free hand to take the pastry bags from your arms and set them aside. The simian loops both of his arms around you, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Easy, easy. C’mon, kiddo, deep breaths.”

But you can’t seem to stop the frightened crying, no matter what you do or what he says. Instead, you cling to Macaque and quake, staining his ru with tears of fear.

“I can’t, I can’t! I’m s-sorry, but I can’t! Macaque, I can’t! My- I- I can’t! In the… in the alleyway, there’s, there was- augh!”

All your frantic cries are cut with a particularly sturdy thump to your back, leaving you to sharply gasp for the breath that’s been knocked out.

At least you’ve stopped crying.

“Better, kiddo?” As he asks, your mentor sits you on the couch and wraps his tattered red scarf around your shoulders. In a better mindset, you might’ve seen it and thought of the scrap he gave you a few months back. You might’ve thought of your book.

But right now, there’s more important things to think about. Like what you want to do next.

[burningvelvet]

I finished Moby Dick. So, to continue my former post(s) documenting my thoughts, here we are (spoilers ahead):

captain ahab: i am once again asking hast thou seen the white whale

Narrator, for the 5 millionth time describing captain ahab: "MONOMANIACAL. MONOMANIAC. MONOMANIA."

I was thinking "the homosexual themes everyone talks about are really exaggerated apparently…" and then I got to the chapter about sperm squeezing

Stubb meeting with the French in chap 91 had the exact vibe of a filler episode on a comedy sitcom

there are a lot of moments that reminded me of The Office ngl like i could just imagine stubb in the little interview chair just talking. so much meme material. he's seriously just doing his own thing. the little random characters like the blacksmith and carpenter just talking shit and side-eyeing ahab in the background lmaoooo

Saint George didn't kill a dragon, it was a whale #THETRUTHREVEALED #WHALETRUTHERS

It would have been hilarious if the British people told Ahab that they already killed Moby Dick already before he could get to it. I was so hoping that would happen. Bonus points if it was the Rachel after he'd turned them away.

Ahab discusses the topic of madness a lot. It's almost like he's… mad...

I vote Ahab for the most Byronic hero to ever Byronic… Heathcliff and Rochester have nothing on him… The origin of the Byronic hero, Byron's titular character from the narrative poem Childe Harold, is literally mentioned by name in the novel and had to be a blatant inspiration - it could not be more obvious! (I have yet to encounter the famed Byronic heroes of Russian literature, most notably Eugene Onegin, a work where Byron is also blatantly name-dropped).

Everyone thinking Queequeg was dying and having a coffin made to his measurements and filled with grave goods at his direction and then him literally climbing into the coffin to test it out and then waiting silently to die…. then all of a sudden getting better and saying he chose to recover bc he remembered he had something on his to-do list….. iconic

Ishmael referring to Queequeg as "my Queequeg…" omg. Queerqueg

Queequeg drawing figures like the ones on his tattoos omg… au story where Queequeg is an artist/tattoo artist when???

I was literally saying "AWWWWW" out loud when Ahab and Pip were having their little moments

The irony of Ahab abandoning the Rachel then it coming back for Ishmael… the coffin lifeboat… etc… good stuff…

okay ahab is my man but yeah he was an asshole to the captain of rachel.

also feel bad for tashtego. he wanted that gold doubloon so bad and ahab was like SIKE, MOTHERFUCKER! umm tashtego did not get cut out of a whale by queequeg to deal with ur shit ahab!

Once again wanting a Black Sails/Moby Dick AU… I found this essay about the similarities between Flint/Ahab https://ijms.nmdl.org/article/view/22389/14361

They only have like 2-3 little moments together but like… Starbuck/Ahab kind of outdoing Ishmael/Queequeg there for a moment… chaps 132/134… oh my godddddddddddddd whyyyyyyy

Captain Ahab's moments in chapters 36/37 AAAAAHHHHH you will see me being normal about this

I noted some of my favorite Ahab moments/chapters and they are 36/37/41/70/99/108/109/113/115/116/119/125/129/132/134/135. Like I may seriously just re-read those chapters (no offense to Melville's whale facts, Stubb's jokes, & Pip's insanity)

the end is kind of similar to the great gatsby in the sense that you finally realize the entire novel was actually written for him to cope with his grief-related trauma & then suddenly it all makes sense. the lingering, the sentimentality regarding seemingly insignificant details or people, the meandering/digressing/procrastinating getting to the end, etc.

there are actually several moments -- i don't know if he actually referred to ahab or the others in past-tense specifically, but there were several moments where i felt like i kind of thought he was giving away the end before he did (it wasn't a shock to me bc i read about the end prior, but still)

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. vi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: you grow closer with sarah, and also with joel... pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.2k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY - oral sex (m receiving). alcohol consumption. Some angst, but mostly fluff, references to divorces/getting remarried/stepparents. anxious thoughts. a/n: this chapter is probably the least heavy. s/o to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about it, as always. lots of character/relationship/backstory for both joel and reader. i give reader a childhood nickname in this story, but it's not her actual name. also i made up a backstory for joel because he deserves it. hope you enjoy!

-June 5th, 2003-

“I think you missed a spot.”

“Yeah, that’s because you won’t hold still.”

Sarah scolds you for what feels like the hundredth time since you sat down. You feel a bit like a rambunctious child, and not so much a grown woman who has over fifteen years on her with the way she’s talking to you. To keep from giggling, you press your lips together tightly.

“You’re the one who begged to do this.”

“I did not,” she says, lacing mock offense into her voice – even with her head tilted down so you can’t see her mouth, you can tell she’s smiling. 

Sarah’s bent over your kitchen table, across from you, holding your thumb between two of her fingers. Meticulously, she’s painting a layer of pink, glittery polish on your nails. It’s been awhile since you started, and the near-suffocating chemical fumes of acetone and nail polish had grown so intense you’d already made her turn on the fan and open the window above your sink. It wasn’t really helping. And she’s got her face so close to your hand – laser focused – you’re a little concerned she’s going to poke herself in the eye. But you don’t dare correct her. This is a weekly ritual. Every Thursday night, you give each other manicures. It’s far more important to her, however.

“Oh my god, relax your fingers, you’re so rigid,” she reprimands you again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, a bit sheepish. You’ve been anxious, the energy having worked its way out to all your extremities, apparently. 

To be fair, you could do without this. You’ve never really cared about having your nails done growing up, and still don’t. They’ll look good for about two to three business days, and then they’ll chip. It’s always this way, regardless of what topcoat she puts on that claims it will make your nails last forever – maybe you’re just too rough with your hands. However, it’s the one thing Sarah doesn’t give you grief about, maybe because hers always chip, too. 

You keep letting her do it, though. Partly because she likes it so much – and it hasn’t gotten any easier to say no to her. The other part is reminded of what it’s like to be a kid again. When you were first sent away to school, you always kept your nails painted - a small act of rebellion, of self-expression after being forced into the same uniform day after day. When you’d come home on breaks you’d beg your brother to paint his nails, run down the hall after him with a bottle of polish. Vincent would never let you, but he would always find a compromise, which was usually a walk through Central Park, and paying for you to ride on the carousel. He’d stand off to the side, waving each time you passed. In those moments, you liked to pretend that things were normal, that there wasn’t a dark cloud lingering over you both. Because even then, you’d known. On the walk home, Vincent would let you hook your mittened hand in the crook of his elbow, and you’d tilt your head all the way back to look at the tops of the buildings, the sun poking through the clouds.

Sarah draws back from your hand, then releases it delicately to the tabletop, placing the brush back in the nail polish bottle. “There,” she says, screwing on the lid. You both lean forward to admire her work. “I’m getting better aren’t, I?”

“You definitely are,” you look at the obnoxious color – Aurora Berry-alis. It’s the exact opposite of anything you’d pick out for yourself, but you’ve been surprised at the compliments you’ve been getting at work from your coworkers whenever you are going over contracts or pointing out revisions. If anything, you think it might make them pay closer attention when you talk. You nod at Sarah appreciatively. “They look good.”

“I think you’re getting better, too,” she places her hands atop the table alongside yours, so you can compare. You’d painted hers the same color, because you always let her choose. Well, it’s less that you let her, and more that she tells you, and you know better than to argue. The first time she’d painted them, and you’d suggested a coat of clear, she had given you so much grief about how boring you were, that you had given in and let her do whatever she’d wanted. There is nothing more terrifying than a teenage girl thinking you are lame. 

“It’s always easier to paint someone else’s,” you answer. 

Sarah leans forward, and frowns when her eyes land on your thumbnail, the one with the scab at the base of it. “You really need to stop picking at your cuticles.”

“I can’t help it,” you say sheepishly. “It’s a bad habit.” Particularly when stressed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself.

“Well, it needs to stop,” she says pointedly, before planting her hands on the table and standing up. “I’m gonna get a ginger ale. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yeah, grab me one, too,” you blow on your fingers so they dry faster. 

Sarah disappears behind you, and you hear her rummaging through your fridge. “Do you not eat? Your fridge is basically empty.”

It’s only when she mentions it that you recall. “I do, I just forgot to go to the store this weekend.”

“How do you forget to buy food for yourself?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Sarah groans, and a few of your cabinets open and slam shut. “There’s no food here.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “I pretty much only buy stuff for you anyways, at this rate you might as well start chipping in on the grocery bill.”

“You sound like my dad.”

At the mention of Joel, you stiffen. 

Things have been a bit of a blur for the past few weeks. Between both of your work schedules, it’s been difficult to see one another, and even when you’re free – it has to be when Sarah’s away, which doesn’t happen often. And if she’s not in her own house, the second most likely place for her to be is at yours – so that makes it even more complicated. And both of you have agreed that she can’t find out. Because of that, you’ve only seen Joel a handful of times. 

“How is he?” you ask, nonchalantly. It’s a question you have asked her a hundred times before, just like you’ve asked after her best friend from school, Jennifer, or her grandparents, her Uncle Tommy – anyone from her life she talks about regularly. For some reason, you’re still expecting Sarah to hear these three words and sense that you’re not telling her something.

“He’s good,” she says, rustling through boxes. “Busy.” 

Yeah….busy. You could laugh when you think of the absurdity of the situation as a whole. There’s not a chapter in any of your self-help books that could teach you how to properly navigate it. So you’re left to figure it out for yourself, and hope you can without inflicting any permanent damage on her psyche. 

It makes you kind of nauseous actually. You knew her first. You were closer with her, first. It feels like a betrayal – and you’ve done enough of that in your life. This was supposed to be a way to start over, to do the right thing, but the sickness follows wherever you go.  You can’t stop it. What would happen if she found out? Would she be angry, mad, disgusted? She likes you, but as far as she knows, you aren’t romantically involved with her father. And that would certainly change things. 

Where it really gets problematic – you like Joel. So much more than you had expected. Well, maybe you’d been expecting it a little but not….like this. Of course, you know better than to be hopeful. Everything is still tentative, new. You’re figuring it out. It’s nice, at least, to savor the feeling while you have it, because it’s something you have felt so rarely.

All that considered, keeping it from her objectively is the right thing to do – for now. At least, that’s how you justify it to yourself.

“Actually he, uh, has been on a coupla dates lately,” Sarah returns to sit with a bag of stale Doritos and two ginger ales

“Really?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow, pretending this is new information. 

Sarah nods, and is careful to open both cans with the tip of a butter knife she brought over, so as not to chip her freshly painted nails. She speaks so nonchalantly, there’s no way she suspects anything. 

You test the waters. “How do you feel about that?”

“What are you, my guidance counselor?” 

You laugh first, and then she joins in, delighted by her clever joke. Once it fades, she surprises you by sobering up, quickly. “But uh….I don’t feel any way about it…I usually don’t care unless he introduces me to whoever he’s with.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say. “I remember when my dad did that. Always weird, right?”

“Always,” she repeats, sounding relieved that you understand. “But it doesn’t happen often. I think he’s careful. But things have just never felt….right. With any of them.”

“What, like, they weren’t nice?” 

“No, just….I could tell they didn’t really care…” she says. “About me….”

You want to tell her that’s not true. But you’d only be speaking for yourself, and this isn’t about you. 

“What about you?” she asks, and you realize you’ve been frowning. “Did you get along with your dad’s girlfriends when you first met them?”

“I mean, it wasn’t so much a meeting as it was my father introducing us and saying ‘Pixie, Meredith is going to be your stepmother,' and then that was that."

“Your stepmother’s name was really Meredith?” Sarah asks incredulously. “Like in The Parent Trap?”

You consider this, the realization hitting. “Yeah, I guess so,” and you both laugh. 

“Oh boy,” Sarah says. “Stepmom? If my dad gets remarried, I think…things would change…”

“How so?”

“What if she hates me? And then dad stops spending time with me? What if he has another kid, and they forget about me?” She pauses, but not long enough for you to shut it down without interrupting. “I mean, tell me what happened with your stepmom. Did you become an afterthought? ”

“Uh, well….” you wrinkle your nose. “I mean, yeah, but I was never exactly a priority to begin with.”

To you, it’s such a casual statement of fact, so at first, you’re not sure why Sarah looks so distraught by the response. “Oh, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” Her shoulders sag, just a little.

“Oh,” you wave your hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine. What I’m trying to say is from everything you’ve told me about your dad, and everything I know myself –” which is more than you think “– he would never let that happen.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” she says, bobbing her head. “But I can’t help but think about it.”

“Those are just thoughts…” you offer. And you’re no longer even approaching this conversation with the context of being the woman who is with Joel. You just want to make her feel better. “Doesn’t mean they’ll come true.”

It seems to placate her. “Yeah. You’re right,” she nods, and takes a sip from her ginger ale. “I do worry about my dad, though. It’s just the two of us, and I know he gets lonely. And who knows, maybe someday he’ll end with someone I actually like. That could be fun,” Sarah smiles a little. “So long as they don’t boss me around.”

“Boss you around?” you ask, taking a sip from your own can and raising your eyebrows. “I wish them the best.”

“Shut up,” she says, then giggles. “But also…fair point.”

Suddenly, you sit up from where you’d been leaning back into the wood of your kitchen chair. And it seems like as good a time as ever to change the subject, because you’ve far overstayed your welcome lingering. “Oh, by the way, before I forget…stay right there, I have something for you.”

“What? What is it?”

You rise from your seat, and walk a few paces to the basket in the corner of the room. “You’ve got that camping trip coming up soon, and it gets chilly at night….” You dig through your knitting materials until you find what you’re looking for. Once you do, you place it in front of Sarah on the tabletop. 

“What? No way!” she exclaims, picking up the baby blue knit cap in front of her. “You knitted me a hat?”

“Yeah,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “I meant to wrap it but-”

“It’s so cute,” Sarah cuts you off. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course, it’s yours.”

She jumps up from her seat and saunters to the mirror that hangs above the credenza just inside your front door. You follow her, standing behind her as she tugs the hat over her head. “What do you think?”

“Here,” you murmur, reaching over her shoulder to brush a piece of hair from her eyes, tucking it under the beanie, and pulling it further down in the back so it covers her ears as intended. Then you both look in the mirror. “I like it. Do you like it?” 

“Yes,” she says, incredulous. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I’ve hardly been knitting lately because it is so hot here. And you’ve been talking about how excited you are for this trip since I met you, so…it only felt right.”

Sarah whirls around quickly to wrap you in a hug, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind her – arm across the back of the pink hoodie she’s wearing. There’s a vague sense of longing in your expression, and you wonder what it might have been like to have someone in your life who could have given you the things your parents never did. Maybe there’s still a way to right all the wrongs. And not just for yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 6th, 2003-

“Come in!” 

You’re closing the oven when you hear the knock on your screen door. It slams shut, and you peer through the entrance of your kitchen to the front foyer – just to make sure you haven’t invited an axe murderer into your home. 

The concern is fleeting, because you see it’s just Joel, bent over, untying his work boots and slipping them off. You like to think of yourself as easygoing, but you don’t allow him to wear them inside the house. All it took was some side eye the last time he’d tracked dirt all over your clean carpets, and then you never had to ask him again. But really, it was a minor inconvenience compared to some of the shit your past boyfriends had pulled. For example, this past year you actually had to utter the sentence ‘I don’t want you stashing your coke in my underwear drawer’ out loud to a grown man. So, even if the bar was so low you could step over it – and hardly bend a knee – it was something you had learned to appreciate about him.

You’ve made a roasted whole chicken – which is surprisingly easy, and mostly involves root vegetables and a lot of butter. Then it just cooks in the oven. It’s sort of your go-to when you actually decide to cook, but it’s too much food for one person. But you like that if you make it at the beginning of the week, you can eat leftovers for several days after. You hope Joel will appreciate it – not that you are trying to impress him, well, who are you kidding? You definitely are. It’s just one of those things you are ashamed to admit to yourself. 

You turn to the sink, pulling off the yellow rubber gloves you’d bought to wash dishes in – in an effort to preserve your manicure. “Hey,” you say, when you hear his footsteps shuffling behind you. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, and before you can turn, his lips are on your cheek, his hand on your shoulder, and he takes in the scene of your kitchen. “Would you like some help?”

“I’m good,” you look around. It was maybe a little messy, but the dishes were soaking and all you have to do is wipe off the countertops. It tends to happen when you cook. You’re not great at mise en place. Still, you have a system, and it works for you, and it stresses you out to have helpers in the kitchen. “Everything’s in the oven already.” 

Turning finally, you take Joel all the way. He looks tired. Shoulders slumped, hair mussed. You reach out, pull a piece of sawdust out from one of his waves, flick it into the sink. “Why don’t you go sit in the front room?” you ask him. “I’ll be in, just give me a second.”

He’s been busy, putting in extra hour into his first contracting gig, and it appears it’s starting to take its toll. 

“Okay,” he nods, hesitant, stepping back. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel settles onto your couch with his hands over his face. He’s upset with himself. For as much as he likes you, he’s barely seen you since your first date – and tonight, the one night he gets the chance, he’s utterly spent. 

He rubs his eyes, looks towards your record player in the corner of the room, some melancholy jazz playing over the speakers. In the kitchen, dishes clink together, and a cabinet shuts lightly. Joel lets his head loll back against the plush cushions of your couch, savoring the only peace he’s felt all day.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your voice cuts in, and Joel doesn’t know how you had snuck up on him, but when he peers up at you, standing over him, you’re holding out a frosted tumbler. 

The floral apron you’d been wearing when he first came in is gone, so he sees more clearly the blush button-down you’ve paired with khaki slacks. Your hair is clipped back from your face, reading glasses on your head. He thinks of your coworkers who get to see you looking like this everyday, and gets a little envious. “What’s this?”

“A drink,” you say. “I thought you might need one.”

���Is it that obvious?” He feels a little guilty that it’s so clear to you what’s wrong, and you’ve barely spoken yet. Despite everything, Joel can’t help but feel warm, accepting the beverage graciously. The thin layer of ice coating the outside of the drink melts the second his fingers wrap around it, brushing against your own. 

“Only a little,” you give him a soft smile before clinking glasses.

It’s some kind of whiskey, served over ice and it’s fucking good. It goes down far too easy, and he immediately takes another pull. You settle next to him while he does, but not so close that you’re touching. Joel is no stranger to how tentative you are with him, still. But he likes you regardless. He’s holding something fickle in his palm, and he understands he’d better hold still so as not to break it. 

“Long day?” you ask, and reach out to trace your knuckle up his arm absentmindedly. 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs. “Things just keep goin’ wrong.”

“And you’re the problem solver now?”

“Something like that,” Joel says. You’d already drilled him about the ins and outs of his job awhile back. Being a contractor, while it’s a step up from his last job, and makes him more money – is much more demanding. People actually answer to him, now. 

“I’m sorry…that sounds stressful,” you empathize. “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it soon enough.”

Joel nods. Even if his brain has been telling him otherwise, he’s inclined to believe you. 

Carefully – but not at all hesitantly, you reach out, hand curling around the back of his neck. Its the same one you’d been using to hold your glass so it’s comfortingly cool against his skin – still heated from a day spent under the sun. Joel feels his heart rate pick up as you move in closer. When your lips connect with his own, the kiss is gentle, affectionate. A proper greeting. 

A flash of something, white hot, swipes up the sides of his neck, into his face. He’s a little embarrassed at the effect your touch has on him. Everything is still so new. And he’s hardly gotten the time alone with you to get it out of your system.

You deepen the kiss, it becomes deeper, more sensual, and he feels the switch flip. Almost as though you can sense his arousal, your hand slips down, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Your mouth never leaves his, you never pull away to look down, and he’s hard by the time you cup him through his underwear. And he’s still so taken aback he can’t stifle the noise he makes – directly into your mouth.

Your fingers hook through his belt loops to shuck his pants and underwear down, and the comfort of your body pressed against him disappears. Blinking open his eyes, he reaches out to pull you back. “What are you-” he cuts himself off when he sees you kneeling between his parted knees. 

In response, your hands plant high on his thighs. “What does it look like?” you ask, your chin tilting back, eyes glimmering.

Oh. 

“May I?” So polite, considering the offer. 

Joel nods wordlessly, and he watches you lean forward. His eyes squeeze shut right before you take him in your mouth – because he knows if he doesn’t ease his way into this, he won’t last. 

You don’t waste time teasing or kissing or anything like that. You’re not gonna drag things out. Maybe it’s because dinner’s in the oven and your time is limited, or maybe this is just how you are.

He aches, and in one go, you wrap your mouth around him and take him as deep as you can, he feels your throat constrict when you can’t go any further. Then, you do it again, again. It goes on that way, until he’s coated with saliva and the slide of your lips up and down the length of him feels as soft as the silk of your shirt, which he’s unintentionally fisting, trying to hold back. 

Your hands squeeze his thighs, massaging them gently while you work diligently. It’s fast, but not so fast he can’t enjoy himself. Sloppy, but he prefers it that way. It’s perfect. He thinks you’re fucking perfect. 

He decides he has to see you, watch you, and leans back to take you in more fully. One of his hands rises to slip under your chin, angles your face so your eyes lock with his own.  “Look at me,” he says, a little press to get you to engage. He’s learning how to push you– just enough to get what he needs without scaring you away. And he’s rewarded when you moan around him, the vibration around his cock only bringing him closer to release. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, and you groan again at the praise – he relishes in how well he’s getting to know you, learning what gets you off – in the short time you’ve been together. “You look so pretty with your mouth full.” 

Then he moves his hand to sift into your hair, collecting it gently at your nape so it stays out of the way, and he can gently guide you along.

You pull off him for a moment, your breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet. You look so good, out of breath and overworked all just to please him. And you don’t relinquish all contact, your hand replacing, your mouth so you can jerking him off, twisting slightly at the top and letting your thumb run over the head of his cock. “You work so hard, Joel,” you mumble. “Just want to take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he growls at the words. Words he’ll remember on nights when you aren’t lying next to him in bed. He’s got to hold out a little longer, just to see what else you might say. 

It’s all you offer, though, because you wrap your lips around him once more. 

He’s getting close. It wasn’t going to take much to begin with – but it’s the first time you’ve ever gone down on him, it’s been a long day, everything is compiling together to make him feel hotter and hotter, the pressure at the apex of his thighs reaching its precipice. One of your hands leaves his thighs to cup his balls, the other working the part of him your mouth doesn’t reach. He loses all his composure, his head falling back as his hips roll forward, choked sounding phrases leaving him. “Keep going, baby – just like that– so fucking good–”

You obey, because of course you do, and before he knows it – he’s coming, hard. You don’t pull back at all, just swallow him down as he pulses down your throat.

Joel covers his face with his hands and tries to steady his breathing, thoroughly spent. He’s fucking hungry, still, but at this rate, he may fall asleep soon. Warm palms land on his chest. For a moment, he’d nearly forgotten where he was.

“You good?” he opens his eyes to find you hovering over him, amusement in your expression.

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, reaches out. “You can’t be fucking real,” he murmurs softly, hand on your cheek. 

“Oh,” You pull back to retrieve your drink and take a sip. “I’m very real.” 

“Come here.” He rasps, pulling you forward into a kiss. 

When he attempts to deepen it, you pull back slightly. “Hey, uh…dinner’s gonna be ready any minute.” 

“Oh?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “And I’m actually….well I’m actually kind of proud of it, so maybe we shouldn’t get too distracted.” 

“Really?” Joel settles on pulling you against his chest, and you settle there easily. He’s hit in these moments with the awe that you let him this close, that you’re willing to do even more for him, you already have. “Sarah told me you can’t cook.”

“What?” you say incredulously, your head lifting off his chest. “That’s not true. I can, I just don’t.”

“You seemed to know what you’re doing.” 

“I do,” you say confidently, then grimace. “Well, I mean, I can follow a recipe.”

Joel laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be good.” Your head goes back against his chest. He’s careful not to disturb you too much when he reaches for the remainder of his whiskey. “What is this?”

“Dunno,” and instead of reaching out for your own glass, you bring the hand that holds his own down to your lips to take a sip. He strokes your hair, watches you. “Bourbon.”

“It’s good,” Joel says, and drinks again. He wants to down the glass, then steal from yours like you did to him, but it tastes expensive. 

You continue on. “A client gave it to me today for some pro-bono work I did. It’s probably meant to be served neat, but….it’s too hot for that.”

“Nice of you to help them out.”

You make a noise of affirmation, almost dismissive, and Joel continues on.  “I should be doing more of that sort of thing.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug.

“You know I…..” you trail off for a minute, like you’re trying to decide if you want to share something with him. “All I do is work for corporations all day. I have to be kind of….manipulative? Self-serving. It’s a little exhausting. It’s nice when I can use my skills to actually help people, you know?”

“Can’t really picture you being manipulative,” Joel let’s his thumb graze over your cheek. 

He thinks you might laugh, but instead you pull back, your expression unreadable. It’s easy to see that you’re studying him carefully, and he strokes your arm, giving you the space to continue. “You should know I haven’t always been the best person, Joel. No one has ever really looked out for me, so….”  you trail off. “But I’ve been trying. To be better.”

You say it like you’re not convinced. Like you’ve been told it’ll never be possible. Joel gazes tucks your hair behind your ear reverently. “Wherever you’re at right now,” he says. “Is plenty good for me.”

“Yeah well,” your eyes flicker away – maybe it was too much. “Helps that I’ve been spending all my time with you and Sarah.” You smile gently, then change the subject. “Did you see, she did my nails?” 

Joel looks down at your hands. 

“What do you think?” you ask. 

“They’re very….pink.” 

“They are.” 

Joel is thankful that Sarah has an outlet that’s not himself for something like this. He tries to imagine what it would be like to show up at work with his nails painted, and knows that he’d get shit for the rest of his life. “Better you than me, I guess.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

He laughs. 

“Where is Sarah, tonight, anyways?” you ask Joel. 

“My parents take her out for dinner at the end of every school year,” Joel says. 

“Oh,” you seem a little surprised by the mention of his parents. “Do they live nearby?” 

“Not too far,” Joel says. “About an hour and a half drive out of the city, close to Fredericksburg. They’re on a ranch….out in the sticks.” 

“Is that where you grew up?” 

“Yeah,” he can’t help but smile to himself. “It’s different now, but….my parents owned a strawberry patch.” 

“Are you serious?” 

It seems like a different lifetime ago, but Joel still remembers it all so vividly. The busy spring season, visitors from the city flocking to his family’s little farm in the middle of nowhere to pick the ripe fruit straight from the vine. His father had taught him how to mend fences and keep the pests away, and his mother taught him how to tend to the plants, to prune and nurture. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Joel shakes his head, continuing to recall. “Tommy and I would always try to sneak as many strawberries as we could without our parents noticing,” Joel recalls. “And then inevitably eat so many he’d make himself sick, then we’d both get in trouble.” 

“Oh my god,” you shake your head in disbelief. “This doesn’t sound real. I need photos.” 

“I have them…somewhere,” Joel says, and he’s sure they’re buried in a box in the back of his closet. 

“It sounds so…idyllic,” you say, shaking your head. Joel had never thought much of it. Of course, when you’re a kid, your perspective is so narrow. Maybe he didn't realize how good he had it, and he supposes, to the right person, it might sound like a lie. It dawns on him that you're both so fundamentally different, but it doesn't feel that way.

A timer dings in the other room. 

“That’s the oven,” you say, shifting away from him and standing up. You offer him your hand to help him off the couch, and he bats it away, buttoning up his jeans before joining you. “Let’s eat.” 

Joel realizes that all the stress from the day has melted off, and he can’t even remember what exactly had him so flustered earlier. Right now, everything feels alright. 

---

tags: @netflix-imagines @waymorecake4me @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow @user294829329 @gushington-central @hollyismentallyillhelp @dresseduplikeacarcrash @corvusmorte @aheartgonewild @19891213 @emoslave44

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[dutifullyscreechingdragon]

Blitzø x human! Assassin! Reader

Blooming feelings

Summary: After the first few murder fiascos, you and Blitzø start catching feelings for each other. His attempts on your life morph into dates and you can't take each other as seriously as you should on the battle ground.

A/n: heyyy, I'm sorry for the slightly belated posting. The last few days have been a bit haywire for me... Anyways, I hope you enjoy the part two. Here you have the links to all the parts currently available:

Part 1: First encounter

Part 2: Blooming feelings -> you're here:)

The smoke bomb went off, you could hear the shattering of glass and the revving of the motorbike. Y/n was gone.

"And she's gone..." Blitzø stated and was about to leave through the portal, when Moxxie pulled his sleeve:

"Sir, there's a card on the floor"

Blitzo picked it up, it was a note. In a neat handwriting the following was written:

Despite being sent to kill me

(and failing miserably),

you're chill

Call me:)

314 159 2653

Blitzø texted you this very evening. He wanted to do this instantly, but had to withhold himself - gotta preserve the reputation

You were getting ready to bed, today was a long day, right after the pleasant encounter with Blitzø, you had to rush off to deal with a murderer and then get your bike into repair. Oh and you also had to buy yourself new cargo pants, your current ones were getting a wee bit to bloodstained for your liking.

Today was a busy day. So only now, about to go to sleep, did you have time to actualy process what happened in the morning. That being you giving the attractive imp(?) your phone number... And, since he still didn't call or text you, you were staring to have second thoughts... Have you read too much into the whole thing? Was it strictly professional for him?

That's when your phone went off

Unknown: whadup, gurl

Cut the guy some slack, he was low-key nervous and was trying to come off as suave

Y/n: Blitzø?

Unknown: ya, who else wuld be txting u

Y/n: should I take offence?

Unknown: idk, do u find that offensive

Y/n: kinda?

Unknown: soz, I'll show u a picture of a horse I drew and you'll forgive me

Unknown: deal?

to be fair, Blitzø didn't know what he was writing. He had no intention of offending you and panicked, texting you the first thing that came into his mind. Thankfully, you found it amusing and texted him back:

Y/m: deal:)

He sent you a picture of a horse. You though it was really good, so that's what you texted him back. He was ecstatic and instantly sent you a few more.

Needless to say, that soon enough your gallery was filled with various drawings of horses.

In the span of the next week, you and Blitzø texted quite a lot.

He offered you a job at the IMP pretty early on:

Blitzø: ya know, when u end up in hell, a gal like you culd work for me

Y/n: why are you so sure I'd wanna work for you?

Blitzø: why wouldnt u?

Y/n: idk u trying to kill me is kind of a turn off...

Blitzø: ahhh come oooon it's not that big of a deal

Blitzø: ill take u horse riding or smth

Y/n: can't say no to that hahaha

After that reply, Blitzø got so hyped up, he literally ran out of his office and shouted:

"Fuck yeah she loves me back, ya hear that Mox," Blitz looked very much proud as he showed his employee the text chain

"Uhhh Sir, I wouldn't make such quick assumptions-"

"Shhh don't ruin the moment" Blitzo retorted pressing his finger into Moxxie's lips to silence him.

Sometimes you'd get a notification in the middle of a job and it'd be Blitzø sending you a selfie of him ( and sometimes some of his friends as well) in the middle of a fight with a caption like:

"another normal day at work (nearly got killed)"

Or

"brunch went wrong"

Or plainly

"how u doing? "

And sometimes you'd reply with a selfie of yourself, creeping up to some guy you're about to murder. Which would cause Blitzø to text you:

Blitzø: update?

And you sending him a picture of you, potentially covered in blood, standing over a dead body.

At this point, he wasn't shying away from nicknames. He'd call you babe, sweetcheeks and sunshine.

You'd usually settle fro something along the lines of hot stuff, pretty boy, love

However, Blitzø does a lot of stupid stuff, which is when idiot, dumbass, etc. come in use

"How ya doing, hot stuff", you'd say, winking at Blitzø, causing him to try and lean on a non-existent doorframe and ultimately topple to the ground, sending you (and Millie, who witnessed it) a fit of giggles.

You and Blitzø's murderous rendezvous start to become more.. date-like. There is a lot of flirting and very little shooting done.

Sometimes you wonder, whether you guys should just drop the pretences

Moxxie and Loona are steadily growing sick of all of this. Millie finds it quite endearing, actualy.

You were presently engaged in a hand to hand combat with Blitzø. You performed a serie of punches, trying hard not to hit any super vital points. This sent your oponent tumbling on the ground.

"Youuu do punch Hella hard, babe," Blitzø drawled out "that's Hella hot "

You chuckled at this and threw him an ice pack with the words:

"Take that, wouldn't want to cause permanent damage to that pretty face of yours"

Blitzø would never admit it, but that made him blush very much, which would've been very much visible if it wasn't for his red skin (the blush was still fairly visible, just less intense).

or another time:

With one swift movement Blitzø tackled you to the ground. He smirked:

"Ya know, I could get used to this view, babe" he started nonchalantly "maybe different setting, like a bedroom" he smirked at your startled reaction "though if you prefer this place, babe, then I guess why not? I'm not picky " he continued his flirting.

You look up at him deviously, buckling your hips forward and in one movement flipping you both, positioning you on top:

"I think this is way better" you smirk at him triumphantly

"Whatever you say babe. Whatever gets us to fuck"

You didn't expect him to be THAT straightforward (honestly, that one is on you, having known him for quite some time you should've seen that coming), deep red blush cowered your cheeks. You were rescued by Loona's groan and frustrated shouting:

"Get a room! Stop defiling the fucking pavement"

The closer you grew together the more comfortable would Blitzø feel with invading your private space. He would sometimes launch "surprise attacks" on you (the reason was that "he missed you very much"):

It was the middle of the night, when you groggily opened your eyes to see Blitzø mere centimetres away from your face:

"Whatcha dreaming about?" He asked. You were about to shriek, but caught yourself in time. Meanwhile, Blitzø continued "Wake up, Im here to kill ya" his voice was far too giddy.

You were very tired. Exhausted.

"Mmmm, go to sleep, Blitzie," you pushed him lightly off you and onto the bed, wrapping your arm around him, "kill me tomorrow"

In retrospect, this wasn't very professional, but Blitzø didn't seem to mind...and judging from the soft purring in the morning, he even enjoyed it.

At this point, you're very accustomed to each other's habits. You also have a set date and time for the Blitzø's murder attempts:

You were anxiously pacing the street. It was a nice Tuesday morning. 9.15 am precisely and it has been 15 minutes since Blitzø was supposed to attack. He always showed up on time. To your murderous rendezvous.

You were about to pick up your phone and dial him, demanding an explanation (you were worried sick: What if the imp died on one of his jobs?), when he showed up, out of breath (clearly had been running) and with two coffee's in tow.

"Hey babes, d'ya miss me?" He said in his suave voice.

"You're late to your weekly murder attempt on my life" You said in a flat voice.

"Ahhh soz, there was a fucking line ot the coffee shop" he replied nonchalantly

"and the fact that you argued with the employee for ten straight minutes because they couldn't get Y/n's order right and then misspelled her name didn't do much to help" Moxxie muttered under his breath, but of course everyone heard him.

"Come on, Mox, don't embarrass Boss in front of the girl" Millie said and winked at you.

"Anyway," Blitzø said stretching out the first syllable, "I got your coffee. Just how you like" he looked at you with pride, as if he had to fight a glorious battle for it (he sort of did)

"Awwww thanks, love, that's so sweet" you smile and give him a soft peck on the cheek. You take a sip of your coffee, its delicious, just how you like it.

Once you're done drinking your coffee and are fairly caught up with the drama that you didn't manage to cover in your texts and calls, Blitzø commands:

"Now, M&M get into your positions. We're way behind schedule!"

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a great day (or night) <3

[queerprayers]

hello, i've recently come across more accounts similar to yours and they have really helped me feel closer to God. so for starters i appreciate you and everything you have to say is very insightful. i am new to Christianity (looking into Catholicism) but i have struggled with my relationship with God for a few years as i am queer. Anyway, all of that is not entirely related to my question. as i wasn't raised religious, i have done some things that i am not proud of that i hope won't ruin God's love for me. for example, i have said stuff that could be considered "taking the Lord's name in vain" such as saying "oh my god", "jesus christ", etc. do you think that is actually taking his name in vain? truthfully, i have been trying to cut down regardless as i love God and mean no offense but it's hard as i have said words carelessly in the past. i apologize for the longer text!!

Welcome, beloved, I'm so glad you're here!

This is always such an interesting topic and I'm sure I won't do it justice, but I'll try to answer your question. The third commandment has been oversimplified for a lot of Christians, and I do think we should take it seriously—but when we caught up with people saying "omg" casually, we miss a lot.

"Taking the Lord's name in vain" can encompass quite a bit: cursing God, swearing on God falsely (in the sense of making promises you don't keep), treating sacred things with disrespect, using God for your own gain, using God to justify evil actions, claiming God's name for harmful theologies—really anything that profanes/using hollowly/for profit the name/essence/qualities of God. "Name" is more than language—it's a presence. So is the third commandment addressing casualness with religious language? I don't think that's what it's specifically interested in, and because the Ten Commandments functioned communally/legally more than personally I'm inclined to say it's concerned more with the promise type of swearing and temple rituals, but I do think the philosophies behind these large things can be brought down to the personal language level, especially for those of us who aren't ancient Israelites.

An old anecdote from my church is that for years they had a plain wooden cross in the sanctuary, but my childhood pastor had a crucifix put up. (This was before I was born, and I'm so thankful I got to grow up with a full, embodied cross rather than an empty one.) An old lady stopped in her tracks that morning, staring up above the altar, and said "Oh my god." The pastor said, "That's right, he is." Besides being used to poke fun at this lady (who had probably never encountered traditional art of the crucifixion in her rural Protestant life) and as a justification for having a crucifix (to more fully confront God), it was also used by my mother to explain why we weren't allowed to say "oh my god" unless the situation necessitated it.

This has made me rethink some of the things I say—and I think there are lines here that we all have to draw. Many exclamations/curses are religious in nature (like damn or hell), and should we only say those when we mean the full essence of the thing? My mother thinks so, and I've gone back and forth. I think what we say matters, and carelessness should never be our framework. I also know that I don't get offended when people say things like "oh my god"—and I've definitely said it before, in way less necessary situations than confronting him bleeding.

When we look at all the things the third commandment can encompass, exclamatory swearing is surely at the bottom of the list in terms of what matters interpersonally and religiously. The megachurch pastor who uses God to sell things and the abuser who uses religion as an excuse are much more relevant to me. This is about your attitude toward your faith, how you want your language to reflect that, and how seriously you take words that are really only translations of a human approximation of a theological truth.

A line I draw is "Jesus" vs. "God"—one is the personal name of my god, and one is more of a title. I don't swear using Jesus's name, but I've dropped an "oh my god." I'm also more likely to use religious exclamations in the face of things I genuinely care about—I'll say "oh my god" to something beautiful but am more likely to say "shit" when I drop something. Is this all arbitrary? Of course! But the language we treasure and the language we're less careful with always is.

I won't tell you where to draw your lines, but I will say the best way to approach any of it is to notice these things—which you definitely are! Whether or not we end up changing something, it's always good to be aware of what we say and how it could affect us. So ask those questions, think through it all. Don't let casualness make you forget the enormity of what we're talking about when we say "God," but also, turn to God with every emotion and in every situation. Don't bring religion into everything because you're being careless—do it because it's where you and the universe touch.

To answer another (and in my opinion more important) question you've asked, no, God's love for you isn't ruined. I don't care what you've said, what you haven't cared about, what you've done—God's love is incapable of being ruined. This would imply weakness or unfaithfulness, which our faith does not characterize God with. And Christianity is firm that it is never too late to repent—meaning, to turn around and dedicate yourself to not going back. (God's love reaches the unrepentant as well, of course—it is a matter of whether we can see it and move through it, not whether it's there.) Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand—as in, it's always been here, it's happening now within you and your communities, and it will arrive.

Whatever changes you make and journeys you begin, God's love goes with you—it's not something we work toward having, but something we work toward honoring. It is hard to change habits—it's hard to change anything, and your dedication to thinking about this new part of your life is admirable.

I want to say don't get caught up in the smallest possible meanings of the commandments as you continue into Christianity, but I love that you are and that's not really the advice I want to give. What I mean is more, don't let this be a barrier. Every tiny thing is part of our lives, which means they can trip us up, be things to obsess over, be things we focus on to avoid other things, be areas we become perfectionist when that energy could be used more usefully. I am contributing to harm in countless ways that don't include swearing, and to be an imperfect human in this world, you are too. I give you permission to not let this be the hill you die on. Christianity calls us to be willing to die on so many hills, y'know? The enormity of our dedication can be overwhelming, but we move forward knowing the love of God is on our side.

The sacred Name has only ever been put into human words in the form of Jesus, and meeting him in both the sacred and ordinary is how I honor the Word. As I navigate the countless ways I exist and affect and am in relationship with the world, I come back to that. That true holiness can never be profaned, so I must not act as if it can be. When I find myself acting as if God could be hollow, I know I must turn back. I may embody this idea differently than you and others—we cannot all pay attention to everything at once. But I honor your commitment to the small things, and I pray that you live confident in the knowledge that nothing you have done or will do can stop God from entering into communion with you.

<3 Johanna

[tonyboneysblog]

A Fleeting Memory

synopsis: you and keigo meet at a party and play hide and seek, plus almost kiss

note: hawks thoughts are put in italic!

Word count: 1.5k

“Hawks do you have any friends, at all?”

this was an out of the blue question and kinda offensive coming from a worker of the P.S.C.

“Why do you ask..?”

the worker sighed softly, “Well you see, my daughter is throwing this house party but apparently she ‘doesn’t have enough people’. So I was wondering if you wanted to spread your wings a little?”

keigo faltered for a minute, thinking it over.

“oh…I’d like that a lot.”

replied Keigo Takami, the boy with no friends.

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

why was Keigo doing this?

he was never really interested in the party life so what’s the point of going to some random girls party just cause?

because he was terribly lonely that’s why.

“Alright hawks were here!”

the worker named “Akari” said

“Let’s hope you have fun yeah? I have to go back to the work place so don’t do anything stupid while I’m not here!”

shutting the car door then walking up to the door, his nerves on fire, then knocking.

before he could even get to the next knock, a good looking girl threw open the door.

“Aha! Takada your here!” the girl yelled.

the only thing going through hawks mind right about now is “who the hell is takada??”

the girl grabbed his hand a dragged him into a nice a warm living room.

“Everyone, this is Takada! my dads co-worker.”

oh so Takada is a fake name? could’ve been a little more creative.

the group excitedly starts cheering, very nice of them to do to a stranger….

“Okay so, Takada, let me introduce you to everyone.” The girl then starts pointing at everyone one at a time, “The brown haired one is Aoi, that’s Ayaka, this is Hiroto, keiko, akimitsu, and-“

holy mackerel who the hell is that…

“This is y/n, and I’m Habiki!”

careless whispers must be playing right about now because that is the most jaw dropping mouth watering- oh god their coming towards me.

“Hey there, come around her often?”

the girl named y/n joked.

What do I say? holy wow she’s so cute…what if she thinks a look stupid?? Do my wings look goo-

“Earth to Takada?” She laughed.

Takada? Oh wait that’s me.

“A-Ah y-yea I come here all the time!”

okay now what the hell was that keigo.

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking of course…” she spoke softly towards the end.

“15.” Keigo barked back immediately.

“That means I’m one year older than you!” She said cheerfully.

“So you’re 16?”

of course she’s 16 she literally just implied that.

“Yep! I’ll be 17 in (birth month), when’s your birthday?”

god I love her voice.

“It’s uh…December…”

“That means you’re a Capricorn! Ever been interested in astrology?” She asked.

“I…uhm..”

Before keigo could respond suddenly the girls name was called.

“Y/n! Come write these names!” The girl named…Aoi? yelled across the room.

“Eh? But why I’m talking to Takada!?”

“Because your hand writing is the prettiest!” The girl yelled angrily.

Everything about her is pretty, of course her hand writing would be too…and what the hell is astrology…?

“darn…I’ll be right back Takada!” She bounced off towards the kitchen to help with something, while hawks sat on the couch, patiently waiting for her to come back.

during this period multiple people came up to hawks speaking to him briefly, not as interesting as y/n though…

Habiki suddenly came out of nowhere shoving a hat filled with paper in hawks face…”Draw!” She barked.

Hawks took out a piece and then slowly unraveled it. It said…hider?

what the hell does that mean.

“Okay everyone has drawn from the hat of the wolves and sheep!” Habiki said.

what the hell does that have to do with hiding..?

“We…shall be playing… HIDE AND SEEK!!” Habiki said full of energy.

what’s the hell is a hide and seek?!

Then softly a hand tapped hawks shoulder… y/n did.

“You know how to play right? Just find a hiding place until someone finds you.” She said quietly as if not to embarrass him about the fact he didn’t know what hide and seek was.

your a damn angel I swear.

“Now our seekers are Aoi and Hiroto shall be seeking, So go and hide quickly!” Habiki said loud.

They suddenly start a timer and everyone separates to hide while hawks is left in shock.

wait how the hell am I supposed to hide with thews big wings?!

Hawks quickly leapt from the couch booking it towards the stairs.

Maybe I could hide under some bed covers? But that’d only work if they were messed up.

Hawks quickly peeked into a room and..the bed sheets were a mess!

“Bingo.”

Hawks dives into the covers like a kitten playing with a cat toys, throwing himself under only to met with..you.

“shit! You scared me Takada…” y/n said quietly.

shit…should I leave? No there’s no more time left to hide what do I d-

“No worries you can hide with me.” She smiled sheepishly.

god i wanna marry you.

“T-thanks…I would’ve been a cooked bird if you pushed me out.” Hawks said in a whisper level.

“We never got to continue talking..”

“y-yea?”

“Mhm…”

Awkward.

Suddenly there was loud running up the stairs, “FOUND YOU HABIKI!”

“…”

“…”

“I suppose habiki got caught…”

“And we’ll get caught if you keep speaking so loud, Takada.”

won’t lie that was kinda hot.

“m’sorry..”

“…”

at this point your staring into hawks soul, what are you thinking? hawks definitely doesn’t know.

“Can you feel anything that touches your wings? Kinda like an extra arm?”

random but okay.

“uhm…I don’t know..”

“Can I touch them?”

HOLY MARCELLO SHE WANTS TO TOUCH ME. not like that hawks. Chillax go with the flo-

“They look so soft..n’pretty..”

is it getting hot under these sheets or is it just me…

“y-yea I’m okay with that…”

“Really?” She lights up.

She slowly moves the caress the top joint of his wings.

“Fuck, that feels nice.”

“They’re so soft..” she stops, “thanks for letting me touch them..”

Wait that was it? Cmon touch a little more…!

“It felt good..kinda like when someone massages your temple?” Hawks says.

“Your name isn’t actually Takada is it?”

okay now what the holy hel, how in the world did she know-

“You’re too pretty to be just a Takada…”

She says softly.

oh thank the lord she’s just trying to flirt with me.

“N-nah that’s my real name! I think…”

He mumbles off into a sentence that can’t be heard.

“What was that?”

“I said that your….” He mumbles off again.

“One more time?”

“Isaidthatyourprettytoo….” He says far too quickly with a red face.

“I-I..well thank you…” she blushes brightly.

Her face is so red. I wanna kiss her. She so pretty, so nervous, so nice, please kiss me, please kiss me, please kiss me.

“please kiss me.”

KEIGO WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY THAT ALOUD??

“O-oh gosh..your quite forward aren’t you??” you whisper yell.

“M’sorry! I-i didn’t mean to say that aloud!”

Hawks rambles trying to save himself.

“H-hey it’s okay! I mean I definitely wouldn’t mind b-but..!” She says quickly, and loud.

Hawks tries to hide his red face in his wing, unable to face the situation at hand.

“M’really sorry..”

“you don’t have to be sorry…” she softly touches the side of his face.

uh oh.

“I-I wouldn’t mind..”

Hawks faces you with a bright red face and slightly teary eyes from the embarrassment.

“would this be your first kiss, Takada?”

AHHHHHHHHHHHH-

“y-yes ma’am…” hawks says softly then turning his face back to his wing.

“Ma’am?” You say confused, “m’only a year older than you..”

you never know I might like older women, I mean I definitely like you.

“Takada?”

“Y-yes?” Hawks says.

“how bad do you want to kiss me out of ten?” You say quietly.

“so bad…” hawks says softly.

you slowly part your lips aiming towards his

fuck she’s so close, she smells so good, her breath smells..minty? oh god she’s gonna kiss me.

Hawks face gets redder and redder, parting his lips until-

“TAKADA I SEE YOUR WING!”

shit, did it bust out of the covers? Damn this guy for real ruined the whole moment.

“looks like you got caught, pretty bird” you says quietly, So, so close to the place hawks wanted you the most.

If hawks died right now- actually he feels like he just did. You so close calling him these names-

“TAKADA GET OUT OF THE BED WE FOUND YOU!” Aoi screamed.

Hawks jumps out of the covers, still hiding you.

“Fine, fine, you caught me…” he said jokingly

“You okay Takada? Your face is really red..” Aoi said with concern.

“Just being under the covers for so long…no need to worry.” Hawks said quickly.

Then after the game the two of you didn’t even speak of the cover situation, the hawks had to leave. Waving off everyone then getting into Akari’s car, his eyes lingering on you while they drives off.

“So, hawks, how did spreading your wings go?” Akira said.

wonderful, I thank you for me meeting my future wife. Next time I see that amazing beautiful angel I’ll give her a million kisses and then call her-

“SHIT!” hawks screamed.

“WHAT, WHAT HAPPENED?” Akira yelled.

Hawks pouted sadly.

“I forgot to ask for her number.”

At least keigo could live with the memory of your beauty.

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

p2 when yall😉

[asmutwriter]

Just A Woman (Part 1 Section 2)

DESCRIPTION: You spend the day with the Bridgertons. Getting to know one of them just that little it better

A/N - I have condensed partr 1 (which you can find here) into 4 smaller chunks so that you can have a better reader experience

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WORD COUNT: 1939

From beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, time period sexism

DISCLAIMERS

- I wrote this in my knowledge of sex workers and I am truly sorry if I got it wrong and/or is offensive, that is not what I wanted to do and I’m sorry if that is the case

-  This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

Night comes and goes, and so does the morning. You all have lunch together, then early the Saturday afternoon you see Eloise reading. You read it over her shoulder. “May I help you?” she asks as you shake your head

“Just bored. I want to do something” just as Johns mother walks into the room, John holding her arm. She smiles at you

“You could sing for us some more my dear if you are bored”

“Oh I don’t think people want to hear my voice anymore” she laughs 

“Sing my dear. I do not care what the others think of your voice. I find it divine and want to hear more” you nod and look at the now several pairs of eyes on you. 

“As you wish” you go over to the piano and start playing. Typically, you go for a slow love song. They all clap afterwards. Eloise looks at you 

“Why do you always sing about love and romance?”

“It’s the easiest thing to think of on the spot”

“I wish you would change it up a bit”

“Oh. Is that a challenge?” she laughs

“I doubt you would be able to think of one” she scoffs “when I can find a woman who doesn’t want marriage” you bite your lip anxiously. You stand up and go in front of her, holding your hand out for her to take. “What?”

“You are joining me. You wanted something different did you not?” she nods “then take my hand and trust me” she laughs slightly, but intrigued she take your outstretched hand. You look at her as you lift your skirt slightly, so she can easily see your feet. You hear Violet go to say something but you notice John shake his head. She lifts her skirt up to, just above the ankles. “Foot forward. Heal to the floor” you show her, as she copies. “Hit twice, then go back and hit your toes to the floor twice” you show her as she copies. You show her the rest of the dance, she copies as best she can. “Now turn to me and dance down the length of the room, hands pressed to each other” she nods and does as you do. 

“I don’t believe you’ve actually done this to a song you’ve made up” you raise an eyebrow to her, going over to a little table you hit the top, creating a rhythmical thudding noise. Johns mother smiles and does the same on a table near her as you stand and do the dance. Once getting to the other end you start to sing, repeating the dance. Going back to her, you take her hand, doing the dance with her, nodding and smiling at her as she manages to keep up. After the dance you stop, bowing to each other and smiling

“I hope you enjoyed that. I and my friends have a full dance routine to that song. It looks cool when we all do it”

“Are they coming to the dance tomorrow?” Daphne speaks up. You shake your head

“Unfortunately no. It’d be unfair to only invite one of them but I think only one is old enough to go to a dance” she nods as Johns mother turns to the woman as they begin discussing tomorrow’s ball. You bite the nail of your thumb as you suddenly realise you will be likely required to dance in a more proper fashion and you only tend to do more… eccentric dancing so you need to brush up on your more posh dances.

So, when it gets late at night you go into the drawing room. It is the furthest away from the bedrooms so if you knock something over or fall over yourself you’ll be less likely to wake the family here. You practice the steps of your feet, counting out loud the numbers. “One two step one two step and spin. One two step one two step and spin” you repeat. “And spin, spin, spin, spi- holy fuck” you get made jump as you see Benedict standing in the doorway. You place your hand over your heart “you scared me half to death” he chuckles

“Apologies miss. I didn’t mean to” he pauses a moment “You’re pretty good at dancing too”

“Thank you. It’s not my best talent but it’s one of them”

“Where did you learn?” you run your hand through your hair 

“I umm, I taught myself actually. I would always picture myself at fancy balls or parties”

“Have you never been to a ball before?”

“No. Unfortunately not. Not ones that I can dance to. I snuck into a couple before, weddings mainly. Get free food and drinks that way. But I couldn’t dance at those ones as I didn’t want to bring attention to myself” he nods

“You’ve not danced with anyone then, have you?” you avert his eyes

“Is it really that obvious?” he laughs and walks over to you

“I can only tell because your hands are in the wrong places” he takes your hand, placing it on his shoulder, taking your other one in his as he places his hand on your waist “you need to have a more relaxed frame. Yours is up to high” you nod as he smiles at you “Now count again” you nod as he takes the lead, surprising yourself with the fact you don’t tread on his toes at all. Once you both find a rhythm your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Came down for a drink and I heard you counting in here”

“So you aren’t just stalking me?” he laughs

“I’m going to spin you, ok?” you nod as he slowly spins you under his arm, pulling you back into the dance. “Where did you and John really meet?”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering how long he’s been talking about meeting this amazing woman you are not quite what any of us expected. Plus, he doesn’t seem to be fully attached to you. You seem to be like strangers to each other. Makes me think you don’t know each other very well”

“I thought your sister was meant to be the smart one of the group?” he laughs

“Is that meant as a compliment or an insult?” you smile at him as he spins you again

“A compliment. I’m not sure who I’m allowed to tell though so if I tell you then you have to keep it a secret”

“Promise”

“Pinkie promise” you keep the dance up but move the hand that’s holding his upwards, holding your pinkie finger near him. He nods and takes your finger with his

“I promise” you smile and go back to taking his hand and dancing.

“He came into my work one night and asked me to be his female friend for this weekend” he raises his eyebrows at you slightly

“You work?” you nod and avoid his eyes. 

“Got any more dances you think I need to know about before tomorrow?” you say as you change the subject

“None that I can think of. You’re good considering you’ve never danced with anyone before”

“Will I need to know the quick paced ones?”

“Possibly?”

“I might just sit those ones out if they are a part of the event” he nods

“Might be for the best” you move away from him, letting your arms fall to your sides as you look him in the eyes as your own dart to his lips for a second, and then look away. You feel his eyes scan over your body quickly before he stretches and looks away from you. 

“Considering how late it is, I’m really not tired” he nods in agreement

“No neither am I” you look at the clock in the room

“Fuck it’s nearly 2am” he laughs slightly. “What?” you look at him

“I’m not used to such words falling from the mouth of a woman who looks so well dressed” you laugh

“I think I’ve done pretty well to not have vulgar language in front of your family though. One of the few things John said to me was to not swear” he nods as he watches you go over to the bookshelf in the room. “I love the book selection this house has” Picking one out you flick through the pages. You let out an annoyed groan as you put it back

“All of them except that one I presume?” you nod as he comes to stand by you

“I dislike romances”

“Why?”

“They are an awful representation of a woman and how she thinks” he furrows his brows as he looks at you

“I would’ve thought they are quite accurate” you laugh and turn to look at him, seeing his soft eyes contrast the slight irritation of the rest of his face “doesn’t everyone want love?”

“Yes. But it isn’t always possible. Most of the time woman and men marry for convenience, not love. It gives girls a terrible idea of how their adult life could look like when the reality is far worse” you see his brow go to normal again as he watches the candlelight dance on your skin. “I always dreamed I’d marry a handsome prince. That a man would meet me one day and he would fall in love with me and we’d live happily ever after in a castle. I realised that men don’t want anyone who doesn’t have anything to offer” you lightly touch the spine of the book you had just held in your hand “men want an untouched woman who’s main purpose is to sit still, look pretty and have children. Not one with a lot to say and an intelligent mind”

“You have a very biased opinion of love”

“Have you ever been in love?” he shakes his head 

“No. I’ve liked people but never loved anyone. Have you ever been in love?” 

“No I don’t suppose I have. At least not in the ways that books describe it as. I loved my friend and I love her children but that is a platonic love” he nods

“What about your parents?” you laugh slightly

“I don’t have any parents. I did have someone who looked after me but she died about 4 years ago” you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. “Sorry. Telling you my whole sob story which you probably don’t care about”

“No. Please go on. So long as you are ok talking about it” you nod slightly. He hesitates at first before he takes your hand as a way to comfort you 

“There’s not really much else to say. I now live with her children and look after them” you chuckle slightly as you turn to face him, meeting his eyes in the low light of the room. Your breath catches slightly as you take a few seconds to take in his features. You mentally shake yourself and look away, but subconsciously tighten your hand around his. He raises an eyebrow to you

“Are you ok?” you nod

“Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” he chuckles slightly

“You seem nervous is all?”

“Yeah. I’m nervous about the ball tomorrow” he smiles at you

“You will be fine” he brushes a hair behind your ear, watching your cheeks turn red. “It is late. We should be off to bed” you nod

“Goodnight Mr Bridgerton” you say as you walk calmly to your room. You get in and shut the door, placing your back against the cold wood you smile to yourself and get into bed. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[mad3lyncline]

𝑲𝑼𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 . starters taken from kurtis conner's youtube videos . adjust pronouns as necessary !

if you're new here , what's up ? hows it going ? and if you're coming back . . . what's up ? hows it going ?

the entire movie is on youtube for free so that's how you know it's a certified cinematic slapper .

it has the most insane ending to any movie i've ever seen .

hey you know the devil ? hey you know that guy the devil ? yeah , he's there .

oh , wait ! all animated movies are insane !

suspicions are no more : the goat is in love with [ name ] .

none of them know who the vice president is .

the most offensive word you can say to someone : knucklehead .

a warm ice skating rink is called a pool , hello ?

water ? i hardly know her !

my hatred , bitterness , and judgement runs deeper than the ocean .

that's not water . that's a whole – that's a new drink .

that's not coffee . that's a really , really wet cake .

dude , that does not need to exist .

i also frequented a lot of forums that i'm too embarrassed to divulge the details of , so i won't .

i have to know all the trends ; i have to keep my finger on the pulse of whatever the fuck [ celebrity name ] is doing or whatever .

have you ever used the word ' poggers ' ?

sorry for calling you shawty , i say it when i'm nervous .

those are just big , fancy words for lies .

none of this is real . we . don't . exist .

i was eating froot loops this morning and a piece of egg came out of my mouth .

when it happens to [ celebrity ] , it's bad . and gross . and i hate him for it .

i'm not – . . . i mean i'm not really sure what to do with this information .

if you just google it real quick , you find out that it's obviously not fucking true .

that's what i think it is ; or that's what i hope it is at least .

i think as a society we can draw the line there .

i don't know what it is but it's the coolest thing ever !

i just ordered the cleanest one , because a lot of them had weird stains .

this tv doesn't fuckin' work at all .

i saw a video last week of a guy chewing on a mailbox .

i've got two little baby wrists , apparently .

[fairygeek777]

Can you tell us more about your Sailor Earth OC? 👀

Oh my goodness thank you for asking!!! I'm going to be greedy and use this as an info dump, hope that’s okay anon! 🙏

For starters, I should mention that Sailor Earth is a redesign/alternate fandom recycle of my main oc Genevieve Marena. She was originally created in 2018 for the Fairy Tail fandom and started with the name Hoseki Ishi. 

Gene's thing was always diamonds, gems and minerals. So when I became obsessed with- *ahem* I mean, Got into Sailor Moon, I could not resist the urge to draw her as Sailor Earth. I drew her within a month of reading and buying the first 2 volumes LOL. 

This is the art from August 1st 2022

Since then I fell utterly in love with Dream arc, Mamoru and any version of him, Elysion, the Golden Kingdom, Helios’ role as a guardian priest and literally anything related to the Earth as Naoko Takeuchi wrote of it.

I was also low-key upset about how 90s was treating Mamo and Usagi, so I ironically made her the senshi that defends the love of Serenity and Endymion and protects their happiness lol.

Thinking about her more seriously as I am now deeply attached to Sailor Moon, I have a working summary of how I imagine her.

I explored her various designs for the series back in Summer 2023 (again after finishing the manga) 

More recently, I've been brainstorming how to more efficiently include her in the Sailor Moon story. I've been doing light research on Mythology, becoming more familiar with Astrology and crystals. I was honestly struggling quite a bit when it became clear that Earth is almost excluded from Astrology. That is, it's not treated in the same respect as Mercury or Neptune etc. are. 

I also knew that I didn't want to make her a Princess, that would be like replacing Endymion as the heir to the planet. And I was not about to make her the child of NQ Serenity and King Endymion. So I thought I might make her somewhat like Chibi Moon. If there can be two Sailor Moon senshi, then I say, why not two Earth guardians? Then I noticed that Pink Moon is actually the term for April's full moon. So I thought I could do something with that to make my Sailor Earth stand out (since it is obviously a very unoriginal idea in the first place) but I have yet to find a similar thing for Earth. 

Basically Earth is much less interesting than literally any other heavenly body to astronomers and astrologists so I'm working with very little lol. 

Anyway, I decided she'd be an Elysion Priestess and that she was given the powers of a Sailor Senshi to protect the Earth and her prince. She goes to the surface and attends Rei’s school, T.A girls academy. 

More recently, I was watching Eternal for like the 1 millionth time and it has always bugged me that the 2 Maenads look like they are from the Moon.

They look more like Queen Serenity than someone from Earth.

So, no offense to Takeuchi my girl, but imma change that. Because unfortunately I feel like things from Silver Millenium like the Twin bun hair on these two overlap too much with what should be unique to Earth. (But that is a blog for another day, so I digress) The two Maenads are now Gaia and Terra. Gaia becomes Sailor Earth and goes to the surface as Hoseki Jinsei and her Lavender Earth Crystal forms.

See these two? One of ‘em is Gaia.

Also, since it is already shameless enough to make a Sailor Earth self insert, I'm inserting my late cat Flash and his name is Apollo because Moon kitties are from Mau therefore any planet can have one not just Moon senshi. But also cuz I miss the hell out of him and I can't look at Artemis without thinking about him.

As of right now, this is the general concept of my Sailor Earth:

Name: Gaia

Gender: female

Civilian Name: Hoseki Jinsei

Senshi name: Sailor Earth

Sailor Crystal: Lavender Earth Crystal

Family: Terra (sister?/mother?) Helios (brother)

Occupation: Elysion Priestess

Partner: Apollo (white kitty with heterochromia from Mau, Artemis' twin brother)

Again, thank you so much for giving me the chance to info dump :3

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

i'm too scared to say half of the things i do when i picture you

Prompts: MM, UST, Sparring, Armor, Courtyard

The door couldn’t shut fast enough, Rayla fumbling to lock it behind her with shaking hands and sinking down against it.

She’d forced herself to walk back up to her room, not run up the million staircases or scale the walls in hopes of calming herself down, of shaking off the heat, but it hadn’t done shit. She was still hot and bothered, Callum’s voice as he found her in the courtyard still in her ear– “Wow, you sure showed those dummies who’s boss.”

“Oh, it’s my favorite dummy,” she’d replied instinctively, and it was like they were them again for a second with the way he smiled at her and leaned on his staff, drawing attention to his unsleeved arms in the summer heat. “What brings you here?”

“I was gonna practice a few offensive spells.” He’d shrugged and gone over to yank one of her blades out of a straw-stuffed training dummy, then presented it to her with a flourish. When she’d taken it from him, their fingers had brushed and her eyes had lingered on his hand that was so much bigger than hers now. How had she ever been taller than him? “But… since you’re here, wanna spar?”

 “What, you like getting your butt kicked?” But she’d smiled and laughed and gone to the opposite end of the empty courtyard training field, spinning a blade the way she’d practiced one night in an abandoned house, slightly delirious with fever, thinking Oh, yeah, he’ll think this is so cool.

“Hey, I’m not helpless anymore,” he called. “I might kick your butt.”

“When glowtoads fly.”

“I could make that happen– we’ll take Bait on a little field trip.” And then he’d traced a glowing light blue rune in the air and called, “Stratum Caligo!”

Thick fog descended over the area, but while impressive, Callum remained a dumbass; he was forgetting that this was the middle of a sunny day, and she had Moonshadow elf vision. If anything, it would only trip up him.

Rayla ran for him, leaping up just as he turned around and landing on– Well, where he should’ve been, only he’d disappeared.

There was a tickle of wind behind her, and she barely managed to spin around and throw up her blades defensively, meeting Callum’s staff pushing against her horizontally.

He looked up at her through his floppy hair, grinning. “Hi.”

She smiled, too. “Impressive.”

“Thanks!”

And even with all his newfound coordination, he’d still tripped over his own feet while trying to push her back and get her off-balance, taking them both by surprise as he literally fell on top of her.

“Get off me, you big galoot,” Rayla had laughed, shoving him teasingly as the fog instantly began to fade away.

But Callum had settled back to sit on her shins, not nearly putting all his weight on her, grinning boyishly but so handsome. He’d been cute before, but now he was… Hot. Really hot.

“Uh, does this mean I win?”

She’d flushed. “I think it means neither of us win.”

“Oh, yep. Uh-huh, you were always a very sore loser.”

She’d gasped overdramatically, shoving his chest. “Am not!”

And he’d flicked her shoulder, a little spot her armor didn’t cover, and climbed off and offered a good-natured hand up. “Sure you aren’t.”

But what if those fingers had lingered?

Read more on AO3!

[maliabakerenthusiast]

who

soo i saw this idea i will tag in comments and i got writing its all overthe place bc i havent writen in like 5 months.. but 865 words

Third person 

“I hope you won't disappoint red, you do this and you will make me the proudest mother ever. Fail, and the kingdom will see as I personally punish you.”

Red despised her mother; she didn't want to kill anyone. She knows her mother is crazy.

“We leave in the morning, now be a good child and wear something respectful that outfit is offensive. 

“Yes mother”

That night, I couldn't sleep. To think to have to kill someone made red nauseas 

But she has to do it so she can't fail her mother anymore. 

Reds pov

The whole bride to auradon prep was terrifying .

“I'm only sending you here to kill her completely and we shall rule together. Do not get distracted.” 

I just nod not trusting my voice. To say I'm scared is an understatement.

We arrived at auradon prep and it was huge. I mean not as big as my moms castle but still. It looks amazing.

As were walking in i hear someone call the name bridget towards us? Whos bridget? I look the way it came from and I see the princess I'm supposed to murder and her mom? 

As my mom and the blue haired woman talk i draw my attention on the young blue haired girl 

“Chloe , Chloe charming” she puts out her hand for me to shake. I just look her up and down. “red “ i say coldly 

“Oh your the princess of hearts from wonderland right? Oh how I've always wanted to go there since I was able to read about it. What is it like there?” she said rambling 

“Oh i wouldn't know the queen keeps me locked up in a tower.” i say with a smirk

She looks at me puzzled before shes being called to her mom

My mom suddenly towers over me 

“I'm leaving this excuse of a school now. Don't forget or there will be consequences.”

After the principal does this annoying singing, we get it your name is uma, we have to go to a table to see who our roommate is. 

“Red hearts?” i  hear someone calling my name i walk over

“This is your roommate chloe, i hope you two can get along” she smiles disgustingly happy

Well at least this will make it easier 

Third person (again IM SORRY)

Over the next few weeks red and chloe have been getting closer and as much as red is in denial she knows deep down she loves chloe. But she has to kill her, she has no choice once the day came red had not slept the knights previous. It was noon and Red was in their shared room a complete mess. She couldn't think of killing the only person she loved romantically, she couldn't even see herself living without chloe.

Chloe knew something was up when red didn't show up at lunch, then her next lesson that they had together. She slowly walked up to the girls shared room opening the door slightly. The blue hair girl's heart shattered at the sight of the princess sobbing in her bed.

“Red?”

Redf swiftly got up and wiped her tears

Her eyes puffy and red

“chloe “ she trails off with a shaky voice 

“Red are you okay” her voice laced with worry

The red princess couldn't bring herself to look at the other princess in the eyes as her hand clenched around a knife she had stolen from the kitchen 

And slowly walked over to the princess in glass boots

“Im sorry chloe” she sobbed out

“Red you don't have to do this” she said finally catching on the what's happening

“You don't understand i have to my mom shes” she trailed off

“Red what do you want? I know this isn't it” she says with tears in her eyes

“I don't but cant you see i'm destined to be like her, i love you chloe but i can't save us”

“ you can stay don't do this she cant hurt you here, please” she says begging

Both of the girls crying at this point 

With a shaky voice “chloe i'm sorry” that was the last thing she said before darkness overtook her

Chloe ran down the halls calling for uma 

“UMA HELP PLEASE ANYONE HELP”

“Red stay with me please”

“Please princess dont do this to me”

“HELP”

TIME SKIP BC I'M A HORRIBLE WRITER LMAO

25 YEARS

Chloe's pov

I look her in the same hospital bed ever since that day 

She made a curse to sleep for eternity with no remedies 

fouc=tnly she messed up a bit and fairy godmother was able to help it but it still would keep her curse for 25 years

So that's where i am now waiting for her

“Hey princess it's me again, i still don't know if you can hear me, but i'd like to think you can.they say you should wake up soon so that's great. I hope you still love me.”

Just as i finish the machines start beeping rapidly 

“Doctor, come quick!”

She gets up with a large gasp

“RED!” I say as i start to get emotional

“What happened, where am I, who are you?”