#This is actually making me crack up so much

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

[sturnioloszn]

MARKED - C.S

summary; you get a new tattoo, and chris has to show you just how much he loves it...

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap the willy), dirty talk, praise, cream pie, hair pulling.

a/n; sorry it took me literally foreverrrr to get a fic out, i did post one, but i actually hated it w every fibre in my being, so... it got cut. whoops. anywayyy, enjoy this one lmaooo.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

I laid on my stomach, with my skin flush against the black leather of the tattoo table when the loud buzzing of the tattoo gun came to a sudden halt and broke me from my daydreams.

"Alright, you're done. I can't believe you did it with no breaks, you're insane," Sam, my tattooer spoke from behind me, gently cleaning and wiping the remaining ink off.

"It's wasn't too bad," I chuckled, peering over to Nick, who shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned over to get a clear look at the finished product.

After what felt like years, I finally sat up from the chair and kept my hands firmly on my shirt to make sure it wouldn't slip and I'd accidently flash a titty, since it was completely open in the back.

I stood up and walked over to the full sized mirror in the corner of the room and stared at my new decoration in awe. I loved it. It was perfect.

"Okay, so since this is a pretty big tattoo, I'll try wrap it as best as possible, but it'll probably start to peel in no time," Sam spoke, following me to the mirror with the wrapping.

Nick and I eventually pay and hop into an Uber to bring us back to his place. "Soo, do you like it?" Nick asks, turning to look at me.

"I don't like it, I LOVE it. He did an amazing job," I complimented, looking down at Nick's new addition to his tattoo collection too.

"I told you Sam is the best," He bragged.

The ride to the house wasn't long at all, but sure enough, the wrapping of my tattoo was already peeling and coming undone. I decided to peel it off completely and just try to deal with it, trying to not cause an infection.

I was so excited to show off my new tattoo that the second Nick unlocked the front door, I sprinted up the stairs into the living room where I found Matt sprawled comfortably on the couch, lazily scrolling on his phone.

"Hey kid, how was it?" He asks, momentarily looking up from his phone.

"It was amazing, wanna see?" I ask with a happy grin plastered on my face. Before even waiting for him to reply, I lifted the back of my shirt up and turned to show him my back.

"Holy shit, it's massive," he says. I crack an immature joke before gloating about the fact that I didn't take a break not once. At this point, Nick had joined Matt on the couch, and they began to discuss his new tattoo aswell but I'm overflowing with excitement to show Chris mine.

"Is Chris in his room?" I ask, receiving a small nod from Matt in reply. I skip my way downstairs to his bedroom and push the door open without even knocking.

I found Chris hunched in his gaming chair, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, with his headset over both ears. He must've not heard me and Nick come in. I sneakily crawled up behind him, placing my two hands on his shoulders.

He jumped out of his skin but instantly relaxed when he realised it was my touch. "Heyyy, you're back," He says, taking his headset off and standing up to place a delicate kiss on my lips and wrap his long arms around my torso.

"Wanna see it?" I ask, jumping out from his embrace. I can't help the smile from returning onto my face, feeling the dopamine course through my veins.

I once again turned to show him my tattoo before even earning his reply to my question. After a few moments of silence, I turn back around, worried about what expression I'd find on his face.

"Do you... like it?" I hesitatantly ask. However, his expression doesn't falter except that he's now looking into my eyes.

"Do I like it?" He repeats, taking slow but profound steps towards me, filling my surroundings entirely with his presence. "I fucking love it, it's so sexy," he whispers, now standing face to face with me.

He connects his palm to the side of my face and guides me closer to him, connecting our lips. Our kiss was passionate and meaningful until it wasn't. His lips roughly crashed into mine again, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth with ease.

"Y'gonna let me fuck you and look at your new tattoo, hm?" He mutters, barely separating himself from me. I whine in return, letting him know that I need it more than he could imagine.

As he continues to bite and suck at my sore lips, his hands roam my body, slowly peeling off layers of my clothes. I'm eventually left in just my underwear, which he doesn't hesitate to discard, alongside the rest of my clothes.

"Ass up, face down, baby," he orders, quickly discarding his own clothes, littering them on the floor until we're equally as bare. I moved onto the centre on his bed, doing just what he asked; pressing my face into his mattress and arching my back so that my ass was in the air.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, coming up behind me. I feel him grip my hips tightly before placing a few firm slaps on my ass, eleciting some yelps and moans from me.

Without warning, he slams his entire length into me, making me scream into the sheets. "Y'gotta be quiet baby, can't have Matt or Nick know how much you love my cock,"

My moans grow louder and louder as he ruthlessly rams me from behind, hitting that amazing spot that makes me feel like I'm in heaven.

"Sh-it, Chr-is, too mu-ch," I moan and whimper between his thrusts. His hands fall from my hips and move to my hair, gathering it together, forming a makeshift ponytail.

He yanks on my hair, pulling me up from the mattress, and sticks our two sweaty bodies together as he continues his solid pace.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful, love your new tattoo... looks so fuckin' good," he grunts. I feel my end drawing near, and with a few more harsh thrusts, I feel my orgasm crash over me. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my pussy squeezes around his cock, begging for him to also finish. "..love how tight you are f'me, mh,"

He let's go of my hair, making me flop down back onto the mattress, and his hands find their way back to my hips, roughly grabbing them. He somehow snaps his hips even faster, making my second orgasm fast approaching. The headboard of the bed is banging against the wall, and there's no hiding what is happening anymore.

He snakes one of his hands around me, reaching over to my clit, rubbing it viciously. At this stage I've lost all self control and I release my fluids all over his cock for a second of time.

"Fuck! Just like that, come on my cock," He moans, filling me with his own release. His movements begin to slow, but he continues moving his hips, fucking his cum into me.

I feel him pull his limp cock out of me and stare at his work of art; our mixed fluids dripping out of my pussy and onto the sheets. The only sound heard now is our heavy breathing, which is desperately trying to return to normal.

-

After a few hours filled with cuddling and laughter, Chris and I decided to scavenge the kitchen for any food we could find, but as soon as we came up the stairs Matt and Nick stare at us from the couch.

"You could've just said you liked her new tattoo,we didn't all have to hear it," Matt grimaces, standing up and leaving, with Nick trailing his footsteps shortly after.

"Well... at least you know?" Chris jokes, turning to me. We break into laughter, and the rest of the night is filled with the same laughter and love.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; this is definitely better than the last fic i posted lmaoo, also my requests r open so feel free to leave some ideas! hope u enjoyed this, love you all <33

Taglist; @idrk2292 @clairesrose @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Cut my entire heart out to write this chapter. I love love how soft Joel is, and I hope this brings a little comfort to all the healing girlies 🩷 There’s a lot of triggers in this chapter, so pay attention to the tags. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I so loved writing it.

Chapter Summary: Who knew that facing one of your fears would be so hard? It’s just a shower, but a shower is so much more to you. And just when you think you can’t face it, Joel helps you one step at a time.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6k words

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused and SA, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, shower triggers, vulnerable reader, panic attack, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, angel)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

One month. You’ve been here one entire whole month and you still haven’t been able to get yourself to step into the shower. It’s only a shower. It can’t hurt you, but they can. The memories that drag knives through your skull, leaving you to bleed out on the cracked tile. 

   It’s only memories, only deep scars from your past, but they still haunt you night and day, swearing to come back and swallow you whole with their jagged, sharp teeth — just like a great white shark. 

   Nevermind that you’ve been washing your hair in the sink or scrubbing your body until your skin glows red with the washcloth. You can’t fucking do it, but you’re going to force yourself to try today. You have to. You have got to break this traumatic cycle. 

   You can do this. It’s a shower. Only a shower. 

   Making your way cautiously to the edge of the tub, you glimpse at the metal shower head, fixate on the way it curves and dips and glares back at you with vengeance in its wake. It’s like a monster’s staring right back at you, sneering its sharp teeth and whispering nightmares into your mind. 

   Come and get me, you want to say, but it’s already sunk its razor-sharp fangs into your skin. It’s already bled you dry.

   Swallowing your fears, you stand your ground and narrow your eyes into thin slits, flexing your fingers into tight fists as you look into the face of fear. 

   It can’t hurt you, can’t wrap its long cord around your neck like they tried. But yet, it still can…

   You still feel their icy breaths blowing down your neck, still feel their filthy hands trailing up your skin, still feel the scars they clawed down your back while they had you pinned against the tiled wall. You still feel them inside you, all around you, branding you as their own forever. 

   You’re still theirs. 

   You hear their cackling laughter ringing through your eardrums as you reach for the shower head, stretching your arm through the visions of Garrett and his buddies having their way with you in the bathroom. 

   “Get out,” you mewl, chattering your teeth as you grab a hold of the bottled lavender soap from the side of the porcelain tub. You can’t let them win.

   “Look at you. All scared and helpless, begging for someone to come save you,” Garrett snickers, fisting the back of your hair as another man tears your dress off. 

   “Stop. Please…” you beg, tears streaming down and clouding your vision. “I’m worth more than this. You don’t have to…”

   “What makes you think you’re so special, princess? Nobody’s looking for you. You’re ours until we sell you. And right now? Right now you’re mine.”

   Tears slip from your lash line, falling like raindrops as they hit the edge of the tub. You remember that night so clearly, remember it like it’s happening all over. 

   Your body starts to shake the further you reach for the shower head, making it your mission to push through. But the voices echo in your mind, vibrating down your spine until you actually see their muted faces and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the metal. 

   Push through. Fight. Forget them. They’re not real anymore. But they are still real, and they’re just repeating the cycle with other innocent women that were taken…

   Just as your fingers latch around the shower head, Garrett’s voice booms through your head, ricocheting off the pristine tiled walls. “You’re mine, little whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

   “Get out of my head. I’m not yours!” you scream, dropping the shower head as it bangs a loud clash against the shower walls, startling you like a gunshot just went off. The soap tumbles out of your palm, the bottle opening and spilling lavender liquid all over the bottom of the tub, making messes you can’t get yourself to clean up. 

   You drop to the floor and cover your head with your hands, begging the yelling voices to just stop. But they don’t. They come parading in like a steep hurricane and crash their waves down on you, knocking you off center so they can snake their way into your mind to scream even louder. 

   “Stop, stop,” you whisper as a fallen teardrop hits the edge of the bathtub. And then they just keep coming like scattered storm clouds.

   You can’t fucking do this. You’re not strong enough. You’re not brave. You’re not brave. 

   Footsteps on the floorboards make your fingers curl deeper into your messy hair. You squeeze your eyes shut as the door hits the back of the wall with a loud bang. And now you’re spiraling.

   Garrett. It’s Garrett coming for you. And this time, he wants blood.

   You have to run. You have to get out, you have to leave. 

   “Hey, sweetheart—”

   “No!” you scream out in blind fear, afraid your life is about to flash before your eyes. You start to swing your arm but when you look up, you drop it right back to your side with wide eyes. 

   “Hey, it’s jus’ me. It’s me,” he reassures gently.

   When you look through your tear-stained eyelashes, the world gets a little more quiet. A green flannel fitted against broad shoulders sits before you, his silver-threaded hair glowing from the fluorescent bathroom lights, and those eyes... Those big, brown, syrupy eyes.

   Joel. 

   “Joel…” you whimper out.

   He leans down right beside you and gets on your level, brown eyes locked directly on your teary ones. “S’right. It’s me.” His hand lands on the edge of the bathtub, thumb grazing against the smooth surface. Close enough to feel the heat off his tanned skin. 

   You’re breathless, tears still streaming down your cheek, but he looks like he wants to reach out and wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. 

   “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lathered all through his soft brown eyes.

   “I was just… I just…” You can’t finish your sentence without cringing at the shift of his shoulders.

   “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says encouragingly.

   He’s always so patient. 

   Taking a deep breath, you make yourself speak quietly. “I just wanted to get a shower. And I just can’t. I couldn’t do it. I can’t…” Tears muddle your vision, and then you’re right back into the pool you were in.

   “Breathe for me,” he coos softly, making your breathing a little easier. “There ya go,” he encourages. “Jus’ take it slow.”

   He takes a long look at the hanging shower head and the spilled lavender soap that runs down the edge of the tub, ending in a small puddle where your fear lies. It’s like he puts two and two together, like he understands exactly what happened. 

   “I made a mess with the soap, I…”

   He stops you right there. “Shh. S’okay,” he whispers. “Let me jus’ help you here, sweetheart.”

   Slowly reaching over, he turns the faucet to warm and lets fresh water run through the tub. He pours more lavender soap in, creating a pool of bubbles that cover the surface of the water. And then he puts the shower head back where it belongs, at a safe distance where it can’t touch you. And you just sit there, watching in silence as he tests out the temperature of the water next. 

   “You’re running a bath for me…”

   He stops for a moment and looks at you with big, warm eyes, looking at you as if you’re in need of saving. “Yeah, I am.”

   Gulping down a lump in your throat, you watch him get back to his task at hand. Stretching his long arms, he cuts the faucet off when the water hits just against the top of the tub. Enough for you to slip in and not spill any water out. 

   He tilts his head back to you and says, “You think you can get in by yourself?”

   Staring at the steam coming up from the warm water, you tremble inside. He drew you a bath when you didn’t have the strength to stand in a shower. He did that. He did it for you…

   Wiping your blurry eyes, you sniffle out. “I think so.”

   He gives you a small smile and then pushes himself up to his feet, nodding to the bath water as he turns the other way. “Go ahead then. I won’t look.”

   You sit there in shambles, still gawking as his broad back stands firm across the room. He’s not even peeking. He’s not trying to look at you. 

   “Sweetheart, s’alright. You can trust me.”

   You can trust me. There’s that word again. Trust. 

   Gradually, you start to pull your t-shirt over your head, cautiously dragging your leggings to the floor and hiding your purple lace underneath the fabric of your shirt. And then your bra unclasps with a snap, leaving you completely bare as you sit in a heap on the cold floor. 

   Turning your head back around, you see he’s still not looking, so you decide to slip under the warmth of the bath bubbles and sink until your body is covered from the breasts down. You pull your knees up to your chest, blanketing yourself with the large bubbles and your arms. 

   “You okay?” he asks.

   “Mhm,” you whimper out.

   “Is it alright if I turn around?”

   Freezing, your body is suddenly ice cold, despite the warmth surrounding your skin. Panic consumes you for a second, but then you remember it’s Joel. 

   He won’t hurt you.

   Balling yourself up even tighter, you make your decision. “Oh. Yeah, I umm. Okay,” you mumble out.

   The shift of his jeans and his boots tiptoeing across the floor makes your mind race, feelings of fight or flight invading your body as you work to steady your fast breath.

   You’re completely naked, stripped raw and bleeding all your insecurities and fears into the lavender soap that envelops the bath. There’s no layers covering you except the thin coating of bubbles and your curled up knees hiding what’s been taken time after time again from you. 

   You shrink yourself further into the tub, curving your back, praying your hair will cover the faded scars that slit you open night after night. You don’t want anyone to see them, can’t even stand to look at them yourself. They’re ugly reminders of what’s happened to you. Just heavy burdens weighing you down, telling you how invaluable and broken you really are. 

   Garrett used to love that… dragging glass through the top of your right shoulder, or just using his teeth to make blood run down your cracked skin. You still feel it. Every lash and bite and cut he gave you. He ruined you just like every other man that touched you in that house. Except he was the worst of them.

   You’re so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and it’s so raw. And you’re just showing all your bleeding shades of red to Joel. 

   When you hear him shift behind you and slightly feel his large presence near the bathtub, you freeze, and then your body starts to shake violently, like you just got dunked below an icy lake.

   “Hey, s’alright. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos as he kneels down against the side of the tub. “You’re tremblin’ like a leaf. Are you cold?”

   “N—no,” you whisper, shaking your head back and forth until you believe what you’re saying. It’s warm inside the bath water, but you’re still shuddering like you just got hit with a bucket of ice cold water.

   It’s quiet for a second before he asks, “Is it me? Do you want me to leave?”

   Briefly flicking your teary eyes up at him, you take a long look at his concerned face, embracing those warm brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

   Do you really want him to leave? If he does, that means you’ll be all alone with the roaring thoughts in your head. And you don’t want to be alone. Not really. You want him to stay because the truth is… he makes you feel not so alone. 

   He feels like fresh air.

   “No. I… I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked right on those deep brown pools.

   He gives you a tight-lipped nod and takes a good look at your face, like he can just slip inside your mind and feel everything you’ve ever felt in those last two years.

   “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Gonna stay right here. Right where you need me.” His words pull at your heartstrings, stopping the screaming voices in your mind. 

   He said he’ll stay. 

   You… need him. 

   Sitting there curled up in shambles, you don’t move. You just wade in the soapy bubbles and look up bashfully beneath your eyelashes, praying he’ll keep the flashbacks at bay. You don’t know when exactly you grabbed a washcloth, but your knuckles are white from how tight you’re holding on. Maybe it’s helping keep you sane right now.

   Don’t let the memories come flooding back. Keep me from sinking, Joel. 

   His thumb traces along the edge of the tub, while his other grabs the open bottle of lavender soap. And then he looks at you, hesitating before he speaks. He almost looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’ll scare you off or say the wrong thing. 

   He could never scare you, you think. No. Never. 

   “Can I?” He tilts his head toward your exposed back, his calloused fingers still skimming the surface while your heart beats sporadically from what he’s asking. 

   Swallowing the words that threaten to spit out, you push them back and nod cautiously, allowing him to take the purple washcloth from your shaking palm. He brushes his calloused skin against yours, and you jump at the contact.

   “Hey, s’okay. I’m gonna be real gentle, sweetheart. You just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.” His deep timbre stops the panic, and all you can do is hang your head lower and focus on the slow deep breathing technique Joel taught you last week.

   “Okay…” you whisper out in a hushed breath. 

   The first touch of the soapy washcloth feels like knives to your skin, carving you up slowly as your body is served to the slaughterhouse. It almost feels like Garrett behind you, cackling as he had his way with you all those times. And when he slides the washcloth down your spine again, you hear a quiet sob escape your lips. 

   You weren’t supposed to show him this side. One that’s so torn apart and abused and broken. You weren’t supposed to show him your scars…

   “Sweetheart, s’alright,” he coos, blowing his warm breath against the back of your head as he stops his slow strokes for just a moment. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you…” he repeats again slowly, quietly.

   Swiping a falling tear away with the back of your arm, you let him continue. He’s so gentle with every movement, taking care to watch your reactions, back off if something seems too much. He listens to your body language and respects you because he knows how scary this is for you. You don’t want anyone to touch you, but you think this is okay. Because the truth is, you couldn’t do this without him. 

   Slowly brushing your hair to the side, he washes along the back of your neck, gently going over the curve of your shoulders, down your spine, and stopping where your body is submerged. 

   “Tilt your head back for me, sweetheart,” he asks politely, reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo. You do as he says. 

   He fills a little bucket with water and slowly runs it through your hair, until it’s all drenched in warmth. Next, he laces his thick fingers through your hair, scrubbing your scalp to get all the knots and tangles and sweat out. You fight to hold in a low groan, reveling in how good it feels to have his fingers running through your locks in such a gentle way. 

   And he stays there, talking you through it, telling you it’s all okay. And he’s so gentle. Almost like a little lamb with those brown eyes that could soothe you into a deep lull, calm your flying thoughts until you’re just standing still. 

   No one’s ever done this, taken the time to care. You’ve never had someone to do that. He’s doing what no one else signed up to do. 

   But why… why would he do this? You’re nothing. At least that’s what they told you back at the house. That’s what Angela said while Garrett had you pinned to the dining room chair, breathing all down your ear, his teeth dragging until he left marks.

   You shiver in place, teeth chattering even though you’re in warm bath water. But right now you feel like you’re ten feet under a frozen lake, and you need Joel to pull you out.

   The visions of Garrett come rushing back, clouding your better judgement and making you fold over again in fear. 

   Get out. Get out of my head. 

   But you’re right back at that stagnant old house. You’re back in Garrett’s hands…

   Fuck. Why’d you have to remember that night…

   It’d be so easy to slip under the surface of the bubbles, embrace the black seas that would drag you under into oblivion. You could just sink into the warmth, watch the real world disappear along with all your memories. Melt into a peaceful bliss. You could just end it all, but you don’t want that. You want to live, to face your fears, to go on living. You want to be brave. You want… you want… 

   “Sweetheart? What is it?” he asks lightly as he watches a tear break the surface of the water. 

   “I… I just…” You trail off, staring at the shower head, trembling as you remember everything. 

   His eyes follow yours, and it’s like he sees right through your thin layers of red.

   You’re scared. You’re so fucking terrified. 

   Joel knocks you out of your dark mindset, his Southern drawl taking that fear away. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Umm. I…”

   “S’okay if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Jus’ tryin’ to understand what happened so I can help. I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

   You turn his words over and over in your mind, contemplating if you want to let him in. But honestly, talking to Joel does make you feel a little better. And keeping everything bottled up inside is eating you alive, so maybe talking about it will help. Joel will help. He always helps… 

   You take a deep breath and let it all out. “I just… I used to be so independent. I did everything for myself and now? Now I can barely do anything…”

   “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get back to that point one day. You’re gonna be okay.”

   “I don’t feel okay.”

   He stops the slow movements of his wrist, rests the washcloth against the middle of your back. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

   “He hurt me…”

   The room turns silent, not even the splash of water meets the white noise in the bathroom. That is, until you hear his knuckles flex.

   “What?” he asks in a husky breath.

   “He hurt me,” you repeat, your voice dropped an octave lower.

   “Who, sweetheart? Tell me who hurt you.” He’s attentive, all attention on you, his eyes dark chocolate when they lock with yours.

   “Garrett… The one that sold me. He… he…” Your voice quivers into silence, only the quiet sobs escaping your throat.

   “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coos. “He’s not here and he never will be again. He won’t touch you again. Ever. And I… Well, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe now.”

   You’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

   Your eyes drop back down to the bubbles, shining under the fluorescent lights, your hands skimming under the water against your hidden legs. “Back at the house, we weren’t really allowed to take showers alone. Well, not all the girls. One of them just happened to be me…”

   Pausing to flinch, you start again when he doesn’t interrupt. “No matter how much I fought back or screamed or tried to get away, they just held me down against the tile wall. And Garrett was the worst of them, even if he was the one trying to sell me. He was the one that used me the most. Said I was his favorite plaything,” you spit out, sinking your nails deep into your ankles to relieve some of the heartache.

   “Jesus Christ…” His voice drops an octave, and you feel his fingers flex against the washcloth, ringing it dry as he takes his frustration out on it. 

   “And the shower head,” you continue. “They… they umm, did things to me with it. Horrible, awful things.” You see his lips part, eyes widening in horror out of your peripheral vision. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “They should’ve just finished me off when they strangled me with it while they had my face pressed against the wall…” You choke on a sob, like you’re reliving that night over right now. You still feel it. The press of the coiled hose wrapped tightly around your neck, choking you as they had their way with your frayed body. 

   Joel sits back on his heels, looking at you like you’re made of glass. Like he’s afraid one wrong word will send you over the edge. “Sweetheart, I… Fuck. M’so sorry that you went through that. That I didn’t get you out sooner. I swear to God if I ever get my hands on Garrett or any of those men, I’m gonna make ‘em pay. They’ll wish they never laid a finger on you. I’m gonna fuckin—” 

   You stop him from going any further. You don’t need him to be the knight in shining armor right now. You just need someone to listen. “You’ve done enough, Joel. You don’t have to. What’s done is done. I’ll never be anything more than something to use to them, and they’ll never change.”

   Staring off into the waves of water, you try to let the bubbles wash your pain away, but another tear slips free, falling down the side of your cheek.

   “Hey, look at me for a second,” he asks softly. You turn to face him all teary eyed, and he catches the tear from falling. His knuckles brush tenderly against your skin for just a second, and then his warmth is gone the second he pulls away. He doesn’t let it linger, but you almost wish he would. His touch is so feather-like. So soft and gentle and warm.  

   He takes a good look at your somber face and sighs, his fingers knocking against the side of the tub. “You never deserved any of that abuse. And I’m sick to death that it happened to you. But you can’t jus’… You gotta keep goin’, sweetheart. You gotta keep livin’. You have so much to give. You’re so full of life and bright and the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and you—”

   “Brave?”

   “S’right, sweetheart. Jus’ like I said the other day in the parking lot. You’re so very brave. And you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you jus’ waitin’.” He stares at the washcloth for a second, but then he’s looking back up at you. “It’s gonna be hard. God, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ hard for a while, but you’re gonna make it. With a little help, you’re gonna soar.” 

   You feel water burn the backs of your eyes, feel like you’re going to implode right now in this bathtub. But you push the fears away and look back up into the soft brown eyes of a man who cares what happens to you. 

   “It’s not gonna be easy, but you’re gonna get through it. You’re gonna have bad days where you feel like you can’t do anything, but those are the days you gotta jus’ take it one step at a time, like today. And those are the kinda days where it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here to help, whatever I can with. I jus’ want you to be okay, sweetheart. That’s all I want. For you to live.”

   Your heart clenches in your chest as you gaze into those soft brown eyes. And you just stare with your arms wrapped around your legs, almost want to reach out and graze your fingers through his sandy brown locks. He does something to you. Makes you feel like you’re worth saving. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like a human being. 

   He had every chance to take advantage of you in here. He could’ve done anything, but he chose to protect you and take care of you instead. 

   He took care of you. 

   So you continue to stare into those glossy brown eyes, memorizing every speck of gold in his flecked irises. He kinda reminds you of sunshine, warm rays of yellow and orange peeking over the horizon. 

   He reminds you of safety. He’s safe.  

   You shift in the bubbles that cover you, watch as the water breaks against your knees, and then your eyes are back on him just like you’re mesmerized. “How is it that every single particle of me doesn’t want to trust another man ever again, but I trust you?”

   A smile crosses his lips. “You trust me?”

   “Mhm.”

   He takes a good look at you and smiles wider, making his dimple sink into his left cheek. It tugs a little at your heartstrings. “Well then, thank you for trustin’ me.”

   You nod and peek up through your eyelashes, waiting a few seconds before you confess something. “You make me feel safe…”

   His brown eyes delve deep into yours, and his smile still hasn’t faded. “That’s ’cause you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always. I would rather kill a thousand men than ever lay a harmful finger on you. You’re too special for that, sweet girl. You deserve good things. You deserve the world.”

   His voice sounds like velvet. Smooth, delicate, soft. And even though you’re laid out like bare bones and crumbled dust, he seems to cover all your vulnerabilities and put all your broken pieces back together like glue.

   Somehow, he can knock the breath out of you but also give you an overabundance of oxygen at the same time. He’s good at that. Bringing you life when you feel like you’re getting buried alive. He gives life. Gives you life. And you feel so alive around him.

   You could drown in this bathtub, disappear under the thick sheen of bubbles until the world goes silent, but he wouldn’t let you go so easily. So maybe you’ll just drown in him instead. 

   Silence resonates over the bathroom. Only the longing stares and unspoken words fill the empty void. And it’s so obvious now why every time you stare into those soft brown eyes you fall a little more. 

   That’s it. You’re falling for him. Slowly, cautiously, silently. And maybe one day he’ll catch you, too. Maybe you’ll just fall into his arms one day when you’re a bit braver. Maybe he’ll take the sting out of your bleeding wounds. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you’ve needed all along. 

   But today, you’re not that brave. So you’ll just keep it bottled up like you do most things. For now, you’ll just let the slow burn simmer until it’s an uncontrollable wildfire that bursts into fiery flames. 

   Another few minutes pass by and just as the bath water starts to get cold, Joel asks, “You ‘bout ready to get out, sweetheart?”

   “Yeah. It’s getting a little cold now.”

   “Alright. Well, here’s a clean towel. Gonna put it right here for you.” He sets a fluffy white towel next to the side of the tub and nods his head toward the sink. “And I put your pajamas on the counter for you.”

   “Thank you,” you reply quietly, fascinated by the lengths he goes to make sure you’re taken care of.

   “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his words softening like his gentle brown eyes.

   “I think so,” you nod as a bubble pops around you. 

   “Alright, sweetheart.” He pushes off the floor with a grunt and heads toward the closed door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll let you get dried off and changed. I’m jus’ gonna…”

   “Joel?” You stop him before he leaves the room.

   “Yeah?” He turns his head, slicking a hand back through his dark locks.

   “Thank you… for being here for me.”

   A gentle smile meets his lips and a soft chuckle comes out. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

   Angel. He called you angel. 

   With one more glance, he’s exiting the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. You sink into the tub, letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

   Joel did it. He helped you take a small step forward, helped you face one of your fears. And he didn’t push you, didn’t even nudge you toward the shower head. Instead, he drew you a bath and helped you get through it in one piece. You don’t think you can ever say enough words to thank him for what he did tonight. But deep down, he knows. 

   After drying off and throwing on your pink pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, you run the towel through your wet strands and rake the brush through your locks, already exhausted from the exertion of your shower meltdown. But then relief hits you that you took one step. 

   The first step is always the hardest, and Joel was right there, holding your hand the entire way. He was the reason you made it into the bathtub. And with him, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. Although, it was still terrifying, but you did it. 

   One step forward, no more back. 

   When you’re slipping under the sheets and about to turn off the bedside lamp, a slight knock sounds across the room, and your head snaps to the closed door, pulling your hand back from the lit lamp. 

   “Come in,” you echo across the big room. 

   The doorknob turns and in comes Joel, hesitantly hovering by the threshold of the open door, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You all settled?”

   “All settled,” you reply, shifting just a smidge beneath the warm comforter.

   “That’s good.” He leans against the doorway, his broad muscles pulling against the flannel fabric, eyes as warm as the first night you saw them. 

   You fidget your fingers around a thin piece of string, flicking your eyes nervously up at the man that stands in the glow of the dim hall lights. A man that helped you face one of your fears. And suddenly, you can’t think of what to say, so you just silently stare up at him until he speaks. 

   “Jus’ wanted to see if you got to bed alright.” He hovers there, big hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heel of his leather boots. 

   “Oh, right. Yeah, guess I made it alright.”

   He nods, giving you another soft smile in return. “You need anything? Water, tea?” 

   Shaking your head, you smile. “No. I think I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

   “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another pause and then he’s slowly turning away from you. “Well, uhh. I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart. S’been a long day—”

   “Wait,” you stop him and watch him turn back toward you, his eyebrows threaded together, an eager stare masking his face. 

   “Yeah?” he asks, anticipation hanging in the air. 

   This is it. You gulp down a breath, blow one out, and let another fall from your lips. “Joel, I just wanted to say thank you. For… for helping me take that first step of facing something that’s been eating me alive.”

   He nods, the pad of his thumb brushing over his denim jeans. “You were brave doin’ that, you know? After what you’ve been through… That took a lot of guts.”

   “Yeah…” you whisper out, nails digging deep into the blanket over your thighs, but then you flick your eyes up to him. “Not just for that either but also for listening to me. You didn’t have to…”

   “I did have to, though. That’s what you needed. Someone to listen.”

   Your eyes widen, throat tightens up, and you feel the prick of a tear meet your lash line. He wants to listen to you. He didn’t shut you out when you needed to get a little weight off your shoulders.

   Brushing away the tear before it can fall, you give him a look that says how desperate you are to be free from these nightmares that plague your mind. “Maybe if I just… talk about it then maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”

   His face drops, and his big, sad eyes look like a lost puppy who just watched its owner drive off without them. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m always here. I’ll always listen. You jus’ let me know when, and I’ll be right by your side. And Tess will listen. Ya know, when you’re ready, that is. But I’ll be your outlet when you need one.”

   You tug on a little smile, giving everything you have to show him how grateful you are he’s here. If it wasn’t for him, you might’ve been lost to the shadows already. But there he is, trying to pull you into the sunlight. 

   Sunlight. He’s sunlight. 

   “You always seem to know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you say reassuringly, eyes glossy as you look up into pools of warmth. 

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a crooked smile. “I try, sweetheart.”

   There’s a pause in the room, a silence that’s fallen like snow. You’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak so instead, you lift the blanket higher under your chin and slip down further in the bed, letting a yawn leave your lips. 

   Joel shifts by the door and places a large hand on the handle, about to make his exit. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart.”

   “Yeah, good idea,” you yawn again, now realizing how tired you actually are. 

   But before he steps out, he turns back and looks at you with those sappy brown eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head. “Oh, before I forget…” He pauses to take a breath. “They might’ve tried to drain you, deplete you of everything inside you, but they didn’t steal it all. You’ve still got your shine, your soul, your heart. And they can’t ever take that from you. You’ve got so much potential in you, and I see it all. You’re gonna glow. I already see that flame in you. S’burnin’ brighter than a wildfire.”

   Eyes as wide as can be, you swallow back a choke and feel your eyes swimming. Did he really just say that?

   Brighter than a wildfire. 

   You open your mouth but nothing comes out. It’s like you’re stunned in place, frozen under a bright spotlight with nowhere to run. Nowhere except maybe to Joel because he’s at the end of the bright light just waiting for you. 

   He’s waiting. 

   “Thanks for seeing that I was worth saving…” you whisper out, still enamored by his kind words, his doe eyes, his beautiful heart. 

   “You’re welcome, angel,” he smiles, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.”

   “Good night…”

   And then he’s shutting the door softly, leaving you still mesmerized and bewitched by all the events that unraveled this evening. But most of all, you can’t forget every single word he said to you. 

   He sees potential in you, sees it all. He thinks you were worth saving. Thinks you’re gonna glow and shine and thrive. 

   As you rest your head on the fluffy pillow and close your eyes, all you see is Joel. Joel Joel Joel. And he’s the last thing you see before you slip off into a deep sleep. Except he’s still there in your dreams, shining like gold under the sunlight. 

   He’s sunlight. 

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[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Ready... to give up?!" His panting voice cracked his confident Facade.

You didn't need to answer, only cleaning your cheeks from the dust, Take your training rod and rise up again. You preferred to be beaten than admit defeat.

Yuán Fèn's younger siblings couldn't decide if they felt excitement about the match or guilty about making you both fight... Well, it wasn't like you two were really fighting, but now neither of the two of you wanted to back down...

Everything started so many hours ago...

When the two of you weren't training, Yuán Fèn's duty around the Mountain was quite simple: training the youngest monkey. You had the chance to observe him, and what you learned was that he was quite good at it! He was patient and understanding with those who found some difficulty in mastering a few techniques, yet severe and authoritarian with the ones that crossed the line far too much.

That day, on the other hand, was quite an event for his young disciples! It was the day of your first fighting lesson!

You, on your side, were nervous. For them The first time, you would have held a staff and learned the basics of Yuán Fèn fighting skills, a way to finally be more helpful in your mission, but the idea of not being even able to hold a simple wooden rod scared you. You gulped when a strong pat was given on your back; a chuckle escaped from him while you tried to fix your bandages on your hands.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah... a little..."

"You'll be great! I bet you'll be amazing!"

You smiled a little, yet still a little worried.

All those thoughts were put aside when you and Yuán Fèn faced each other while he showed you how a few stances needed to be done properly. Maybe, you thought, the standing in the actual scene helped you against your anxiety, and, all things considered, you weren't that bad at all! Even Yuán Fèn needed to admit you were a natural!

"This is a defensive stance. In case of danger, it will help you."

"Like this?" You mimicked his same pose. He loves a little of your arms, but besides that, he hasn't touched you at all.

"Good.... Good, very good! Let's try it. A few more stances, okay?"

You really were a natural one there. You were sucking in learning writings and reading the scrolls, always asking their meaning and all, but maybe your talent was fighting! The thought still made the monkey a little uneasy, but if it gave you confidence, then why stop you?

And you were getting confident!

"Come on, give me something REALLY hard!"

Ok, maybe too much. He did take your challenge to heart and decided to take the thing to another level...a small fighting session.

"Come on," he said, taking his position. "I thought you wanted something harder..."

"...ah!" You followed him, taking yours.

More than once, his staff hit your hand with the only intent of disarming you, and every time you had to message your hands and take back your weapon fast, even when he was clearly waiting for you to take it back.

More than once you were able to hit him at least once, but he was able to strike at least three more times. And every time he looked at you, waiting for you to give up.

He had cornered you many times, even when he was clearly telling you to take a look at your surroundings, only for you to hit your back against the wooden wall.

You were good, but he was better, and that...frustrated you.

Now there you were, your hands trembling from the many strikes, hickeys ready to form all over your body and your breath heavy. He was painting, but it was clear that he wasn't in as bad a shape as you.

"I... I won't... stand down..."

"You really should... with those hands too..."

You only grasped harder your hands on the rod, attacking again. Both of your staff crashed together, with his feet trying to not let him lose his balance.

You tried to put more force into it, using your body as a weight, but he quickly chose to move away and broke the stall. You tumbled around, falling badly on the dust, coughing and trying to get up as quickly as possible, only to find his staff again pointed at you.

"Okay...you've got some good moves, Y/n...but I'm still stronger here!"

You held your breath...then suddenly kicked his leg with your foot. The sudden attack made him tumble down, with you stopping him by climbing on him, sitting on his waist. Your rod is pointing at him, a satisfied grin on your face, feeling a small victory on you.

"And I'm smarter!"

You waited for another retort, only to meet a shocked face, with a small tint of red on his ears. Only then did you realize in what kind of position you were, especially when you felt his hands on your hips ...

A few seconds of silence, of pure nothing between the two of you... then he raised his hands like he had touched iron hot, and you jumped away, feeling your face melting by your heating.

"NICE FIGHT! GREAT LESSON! GOTTA GO!" You screamed while practically running away from the scene, while your poor monkey was there, on the ground, trying to make sense of everything.

He did the only thing he could do, putting himself in fetal position with his face in his hands, his tails frantically moving around. His siblings, slowly approaching him, decided to climb on him, chirping around and laughing a little.

"What a show, Brother! Such a show!"

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the young resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[peppermintquartz]

Buck/Tommy fic prompt: everyone's reactions when they find out Tommy's pregnant with triplets

Chimney is the first to react. "Hot damn, Buck! I wasn't expecting you to knock up the first guy you date!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck asks, crossing his arms.

As if realizing how that sentence came across, Chimney holds up his palms in apology. "I just meant, uh, congratulations, that was unexpected, and please say that I can tell your sister."

"I'll tell her myself, thanks," Buck says a little frostily.

Bobby comes over and hugs him. Buck hugs back. "Congrats, Buck. When is the baby due?"

"Late August, and, uh, we are having babies," Buck adds on, the grin on his face growing even as he blushes.

Eddie's eyebrows climb to his hairline. "Wait, babies, plural? Twins?"

Now Buck smiles so wide, he could've cracked his face in two. "Triplets. Tommy and I are gonna have triplets."

Hen whistles. "Wow, you two." Then she frowns. "Wait. Late August... You guys were back together before Christmas?" A light dawns. "Was that when the baking suddenly stopped? And you kept saying you were- You were totally not at a book club."

"Two persons can make a club," Buck says weakly. "A-and we did read. Stuff. When we were done."

Hen shakes her head. "Unbelievable."

Bobby is laughing, clapping Buck on the shoulder. "Well, I hope you're ready to deal with three babies. How's Tommy holding up?"

"Morning sickness from hell, actually. Nothing he eats agrees with him other than oatmeal with fruit toppings. He's miserable." Buck sighs. "Still, docs say his appetite should come back soon."

"We'd like to visit him, if that's okay with the two of you."

"Let me check with him? He's super bloated, he says, so he gets really upset by the smallest things." Even as he is saying that, there's a smile on his face that won't go away, like the mere thought of Tommy fills him with too much joy to hide.

It's good to see him happy again, Bobby thinks. And he can't wait for August.

[marauder-misprint]

Hii!! I just wanna say, ur writing is genuinely AMAZING. Like, actually tear inducing, feet-kicking, giggling-in-bed kind of amazing. This is my first ever request so bear with me 😔: for your 200 followers celebration (congrats by the way), I was wondering if you could do the prompt 10: “Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous—they don’t deserve you.” Where reader is in a kinda toxic relationship and Remus, her bestie makes her realize this while also realizing her feelings for him?? Idk if this makes sense I’m sryyy 😭. Totally fine if u don’t feel comfortable doing it, or are to busy! Ignore my ineligible ranting, I for ur I hope ur doing well! Have a good rest of ur day/night!! :)

- 🌅

Thank you!!! This was so much fun to write ♡ Hope you enjoy it

Fireside Conversations

Remus Lupin x fem!Gryffindor!reader

2k words

cw: fluff, toxic relationship

The Gryffindor Common Room was quieter than usual. Which is why everyone there heard your disgruntled groan followed by you basically yelling, “Would you just listen!” as the portrait opened and closed. Peter was shaking his head as he approached the rest of the Marauders where they gathered on the couches by the fire. 

“They are fighting again,” he says as he sits down next to James. He didn’t need to say who. They knew. 

“That’s, what, third time this week?” James asks.

“At least,” Peter responds.

Remus stands up, looking at the portrait hole concerned.

“Moony, don’t,” Sirius says with a warning tone. “She doesn’t want us meddling, remember?”

“I’m not going to meddle,” he says unconvincingly. He wasn’t planning on meddling, rather eavesdropping, which in his defense, you never said he couldn’t do. He found it was easier to comfort you when he knew exactly what the bastard you called your boyfriend did this time. That was why he was going to listen… and to step in or meddle if things got out of hand. 

Remus walks over to the portrait and cracks it open the tiniest bit. He cast a muffling charm behind him so that your voice wouldn’t carry too far into the common room and then hoped you and your boyfriend would be oblivious to the ever-so-slightly open portrait.

“You need to stay away from them,” Remus hears your boyfriend tell you. “They’re using you to get into your pants.”

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous! I’ve been friends with them since first year, and that’s all we are! We’re friends. Totally platonic. It’s you I like and that’s all that matters!”

“I know you like me. It’s them I don’t trust. So you need to stay away from them.”

“But I trust them. Isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s really not. I think you’re blinded by them being in Gryffindor with you. You can’t trust everyone in your house, darling.”

“But they’ve earned it.”

“Listen, listen, I’m just worried for you. You spend so much time with them that it feels like you’re putting space between us. I think they’re trying to break us up.”

“They wouldn’t!” you protest. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“Baby, just listen to me, okay? I wouldn’t steer you wrong, would I?”

You sigh and say in a mumble, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Remus lets the painting close quietly and he returns to the couches looking more grumpy than usual. 

“What’s birdbrain up to now?” Sirius asks. 

“Apparently the four of us are trying to seduce her.”

The three boys burst out laughing, a tiny snippet of the rambunctious noise that usually filled the common room. The grumpy look did not leave Remus’ face. It remains as you enter the common room, still looking upset and rubbing your eyes. You give the boys the briefest of glances before looking away and beelining it to the girls’ dorms. 

“Of course he made her cry,” Remus scowls. 

---

He loves me. I love him. He loves me. I love him. 

You kept repeating that in your head. Your boyfriend just cared for you, that’s all. He just cared so, so much. Almost too much. Was that something to fault him over? Goodness, you didn’t want to.

He loves me. I love him. 

Maybe if you said it enough, it would soothe your uneasiness. You’re laying in bed. Sleep was refusing to take you so you toss and turn, trying to make the least amount of noise with your rustling sheets. You really didn’t want to wake Lily or Marlene or Mary and have to have a heart-to-heart about why you can’t sleep. 

He loves me. I love him. 

Eventually, enough is enough. You climb out of bed, grab your robe and go to the common room. You almost laugh when you see Remus already sitting by the fire. From the way he’s sitting, he most definitely has a book in his lap. You stand quietly next to an armchair near him.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask softly. 

He jumps slightly but smiles as soon as he recognizes your voice and looks up. 

“Please,” he breathes, gesturing to the chair you’re standing by. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nod as you tuck your legs underneath you.

“What’s eating your mind, love?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was so knowing yet gentle. And he always could tell when you lied and he refused to tell you what your tell was. 

You sigh. “Can you love someone too much?”

Remus doesn’t respond right away; he doesn’t know how to. Did you love your boyfriend too much? Did he love you too much? Was it a good thing or a bad thing to love too much? 

You look at the fire, waiting for Remus to answer. You don’t mind that he isn’t answering right away. You like that he’s thinking about it, choosing his words carefully. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“I… I don’t think you can love the right person too much. Your love won’t be too much or too little when it’s right.”

When you look at Remus, he’s already looking at you with so much concern and love in his eyes. You rest your head on your hands.

“When did you get to be so wise, Lupin?”

He shrugs. “One of the perks of being an old man, I guess.”

You sigh. You think Remus looks very cozy in his sweater and pyjama bottoms. There was something about him that always seemed cozy and comfortable. Being with him was one of the places you felt most at ease. 

You need to stay away from them. 

Your boyfriend’s words echo in your mind. It makes you want to cry. You want him to be the right person, but you couldn’t stay away from the Marauders, most of all Remus. He was your best friend. What if your boyfriend was the right person for you but you weren’t his?

“I… I don’t think I’m enough for him,” you mumble. “He’s too good for me.”

Remus stares at you dumbfounded. 

“Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous — he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Remus-” you start to say. 

“No, darling, listen. I know it’s not my place and I’m not trying to meddle, but he’s not right for you. He told you you couldn’t cheer for your own house’s Quidditch when we played Ravenclaw and he’s not even on the team.”

“He just really wanted us to be cheering for the same team.”

“He told you to stay away from us.”

Your face hardens and your lips form a thin line.

“You heard that?”

He nods and says, “Your boyfriend shouldn’t be so insecure in your relationship. He should trust you to be around other people, around your friends. Especially around your friends who you’ve known for years.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But-”

Remus cuts you off again. “No buts, darling. Have you ever given him a reason to doubt your feelings for him?”

“No.”

“You give him all your love and that’s how he responds? You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. We’re not dumb, we know how much you’ve been fighting. If he can’t see how lovely, strong, loyal, smart, perfect you are, how devoted you can be when you care for someone, that’s on him. It’s on him for not trusting you, not seeing how you are more than capable of handling yourself and able to come back to the ones who care for you most.”

You close your eyes. Tears are building and you really don’t want them to fall. You know if you start crying, you won’t be able to stop. Something about Remus being right struck a nerve. You should be enough for your boyfriend. If Remus was able to see all of this in you, why couldn’t he? 

You feel a hand on the side of your face. You open your eyes to Remus crouching in front of you, one hand holding your face and the other placed next to your leg, helping him maintain his balance. 

“I know you said not to meddle, but that’s truly what I think, sweetheart. I think that relationship isn’t worth the arguing. I think it’s run its course.”

You feel the tears beginning to fall as you nod. “I-I, I think so too.”

“Oh, darling,” he coos as he pulled you into a hug.

You let the tears fall more freely as Remus holds you tight to his chest. He doesn’t shush you. He just holds you, softly rubbing your back. You could always be vulnerable with him. He understood in a way that you felt no one else did. He never judged you. He was your safe place. 

“Rem?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Will you be there when I end things?”

“You want me there?”

You nod. “I won’t back down if you’re there.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

---

He was there for you. He was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. He was there for you when he tried to convince you that breaking up was a mistake. Remus was there for you when you broke down crying later. He never left your side. And you liked it. You had your own traveling safe place in Remus. 

With each passing day, being without your now-ex was easier. Being with Remus was easy. 

But you weren’t with Remus. The more you considered it, the more you wished you were. He already treated you better than your ex did. He never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. You knew he trusted you more than life itself. You didn’t dare say anything though. What if you ruined the friendship? What if you said something and lost your four best friends in one swoop? 

It really hits you one night, a few weeks after the breakup. Today had been nothing special. Just classes and studying in the library with Remus. But it had felt so special and every time your hands accidentally touched, you swear you felt fireworks. 

I love him. … Does he love me?

Why did you always think about things when you were in bed? Once again, you’re tossing and turning. You groan quietly as you get up. You know you won’t get sleep. 

This time, you do laugh when you see Remus already in the common room, sitting by the fire with a book as usual.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask with a laugh as you join him on the couch.

You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the pages of his book.

“Usually during History of Magic and from three to seven.”

You giggle and Remus turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What’s on your mind tonight, sweetheart?”

You don’t respond right away, the worry of ruining a perfectly good friendship festering inside of you. 

“Do you fancy anyone?” you ask quietly.

His eyes go wide and he chuckles awkwardly. He looks away. 

Oh, he so does.

“Erm, yeah. I do…”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Do you think she’s the one? The right one, I mean.”

“I’d like to think so. Only been in love with her since third year.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my safe place. More than James, more than Sirius, more than Peter. She’s the loveliest person I know. She’s brilliant. Beautiful. Loyal. Perfect.” He pauses. “She has her flaws but doesn’t everyone? I mean, I got my furry little problem.”

Without thinking, you say, “You’re my safe place.” 

He looks back at you, the softest look in his eyes.

“I am?” he whispers. 

“You are.”

“So we’re each other’s safe place, huh.”

She’s my safe place. 

The realization hits you. Your face heats as you stare into those warm brown eyes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He hums in response. There’s a silent conversation happening between you as you maintain eye contact. You nod. He places his hand underneath your chin and lifts your face. He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away in case he misunderstood you. You don’t. You lean in too, meeting his lips with your own. The fireworks you felt when your hands accidentally brushed paled in comparison to when he kissed you. The hands were barely a spark and this was a firework show's finale. 

Maybe Remus really was your right person. 

[hippolotamus]

"Are you going to be okay?" + Bucktommy

No. No, I am not 😭 Please remember this is an angst prompt and that I love you so, so much 💞

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

your smile and the sound of your voice | T | 1.2k

“Are you going to be okay, Buckaroo?” 

Hen taps the neck of her beer against his and nudges his shoulder. 

“Yeah, of course.” He checks his phone again and sees the text he’s been waiting for from Eddie.

Be there in 5

“Yeah,” he says again, brighter and easier. Like he’s suddenly got more room to breathe.

She fondly rolls her eyes, letting him know she’s not buying it but she’s here for him all the same. 

His gut twists with nerves, like he inhaled an entire roll of Mentos and chased it with a two liter of Coke. He’s fine, though. He’s more than likely tachycardic, and he’s sweating like a pig, but he’s good. Honestly. 

Why wouldn’t he be? His family is supporting him through one of the more dramatic moves he’s ever tried to pull off. And he didn’t have to say a word for them to buy into his unhinged plan. They just- did. Albeit with many unvoiced concerns communicated in shared glances and whatever telepathy thing Hen and Chim have going on. Still, they’re here and he’s so, so grateful. He’ll want them to celebrate or if… well, he just needs them either way.

He taps his foot nervously, gripping the karaoke mic tighter and watching the seconds tick by on his watch. And then he sees him. His world stops when Tommy notices him. Their gaze locks across the room like one of those cheesy rom coms that Tommy loves. The kind they’d watch on the couch, or in bed together on a lazy afternoon. Buck wishes it was actually one of those meet cute moments where the main characters have a love at first sight experience. 

Instead, Eddie and Chim are nudging Tommy towards the front of the bar, urging him not to turn and run. All so Buck can cut his heart open and bleed out on the stage for him – for them – and hope he has enough time before his veins run dry. 

Tommy reluctantly sits on the bar stool strategically placed front and center. He’s flanked by Eddie, Chim, Maddie, Hen, Karen and Josh like a group of off kilter secret service agents. And yet he’s still looking at Buck with this mix of adoration and exasperation. Like nothing changed and he’s just here to watch his boyfriend be an idiot.

Buck’s heart pounds behind his ribcage and it’s all he can do to stay standing. He takes a swig of his beer, not that it does much when his mouth feels drier than the Sahara. Hopefully Tommy will understand needing a little liquid courage if only because he knows how much Buck hates singing in public. 

“Ready?” The DJ asks him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Buck’s eyes flick to the screen, knowing his piece begins immediately. There’s no intro or lead up. Just Buck and whatever’s left of his dignity. 

“If you change your mind-” he winces as his voice cracks, “I’m the first in line. Honey, I’m still free, take a chance on me.”

Christ, it’s so off key but he’s on a roll now and gaining confidence with every note. 

“Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie, if you put me to the test, if you let me try!” Buck sweeps his free hand over his torso, peacocking in every sense of the word.

Tommy scrubs at his face, looking for all the world like he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Not that Buck blames him. 

“Please don’t make this harder.” Tommy sighs. Silently begs with a pleading look. 

Buck sings louder to drive the point home. “You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair. But I think you knoooow, that I can’t let go.” 

Even with Tommy’s palm covering his mouth, Buck can still see the smile glowing in those blue eyes he always wants to stay lost in. 

He steps off the stage, flirty and confident as his friends make room for him to circle the man he’s over the goddamn moon about. The man he’s so fucking in love with that he’s willing to humiliate himself in front of their colleagues. “You say that I waste my time, but I can’t get ya off my mind. No, I can’t let goooo. ‘Cause I love you so.” 

Buck shrugs playfully, drinking in the embarrassed smirk he’s so familiar with. Just one of the dozens of expressions he’s catalogued over their months together. And tortured himself with in the weeks since Tommy broke his heart. Both of their hearts, really. 

By now, the crowd is clapping and cheering him on as he sings his lungs out, strutting around like the lovesick fool that he is. 

“Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me!” 

The song fades out, coming to an end as he slides on his good knee. He stops in front of Tommy, panting and flushed, baring his soul for everyone at the badge and ladder to see. Except he only needs one person to see it. To see everything and not be terrified.

“I know I fucked up before and I- I rushed things. And I know this isn’t how any of this should have happened. But you wouldn’t answer me or- or return my calls or texts.” His jaw trembles, voice breaking as tears drip off his chin. “You can take your time, baby. I’m in no hurry.” 

Buck risks reaching for Tommy’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Tommy. Sweetheart. Take a chance on me. Again. Please.”

It feels like a truce, like a fresh beginning. Like the start of something.

“Evan.” 

Buck’s blood fizzes like champagne, bursting with hope. Tommy smiles, a lopsided thing, and oh Buck can hardly sit still long enough to hear what comes next. But he has to, he needs to be patient. Not impulsive, not like before. 

“Buck,” Tommy corrects. 

The world seems to collapse around him. His chosen name sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Like a sour note in an otherwise beautiful aria. 

A tear escapes, rolling down Tommy’s cheek, past his now wobbly lip. “I wish I could. This is- it’s sweet and no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” Tommy looks up at the ceiling, just like he did that night in the loft, and then meets Buck’s gaze again. “You are gonna be someone’s once in a lifetime. I just know it. But not-” There’s a strangled sound between them, from god knows where. Maybe it’s Buck, maybe it’s Tommy. Maybe it’s both. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers. 

In a blink, Buck’s hand is empty and Tommy’s weaving through the crowd. Leaving him all over  again.

“No, wait! Hold on!” Buck drops the microphone, ready to chase after him this time. Like he didn’t before. Like he should have. He apologizes as he knocks into tables and past servers until he’s finally out in the cool night air. He licks the salty tears from his lips, frantically searching in every direction. It hasn’t been that long. Buck was seconds behind. Tommy has to be here. 

But he’s not. There’s no sign of him in the crowds of people walking by. People laughing and talking and living their lives with fully formed hearts. All of them ignorant to Buck and his despair. 

“Wait,” he rasps, falling to his knees in the middle of the filthy LA sidewalk. “Please wait.” 

[hunterwritesstuff]

Tell us more about ck in ur au plz

*Cracks knuckles* you've awoken the autism. prepare for the beam. under cut because good lord do I ramble about this guy, and this is just what comes to my mind RIGHT NOW.

(divider by @strangergraphics)

❄️ So uh. he's a guy. a fella if you will.

❄️ Married. He loves his wife with all his heart, even if he can't show it in the usual way.

❄️ He's always been a kind and just ruler, and has been helping Blackrock recover from his father's influence ever since he gained power in the throne.

❄️ Before the Ice Dagger, he was very like. almost akin to Asgore with his people if that makes sense? Like? He knows his people by their names, stuff like that!

❄️ He babysat Griefer and was good friends with Mayor Thaniyel. Source? *Undertale run sfx*

❄️ He vaguely knows Shedletsky, mostly through him swinging by every so often for..."important business"...whatever that meant.

❄️ Russian. Trust me bro.

❄️ His actual name is Alexei Romanov!

❄️ He's very quiet. Sometimes people will forget he's even in the room. Not because they don't see him, no no, it's because he just sorta. sits in silence???

❄️ He was taken care of by Kitchen Wizard for most of his life growing up. Kitchen Wizard took this as "I will have this whole-ass baby-child in the kitchen with me and complain about how Ivan(his father) never gave me ANY form of assistant at ALL!! Can you believe that?!?" "baba!" "Ah yes, wise words, young prince." "Pebut buba..." "Much too young for that, I'm afraid."

❄️ His cape is rumored to just. be his baby blanket sized up? Like, it's rumored he got so attached to it that he just never wanted to get rid of it? That's HIS? Leave him ALONE?

❄️ Banished Knight is his son. His son's name is Boris, I think.

❄️ Keep babies away from him he'll get baby fever so bad he'll actually sob and it'll be very awkward for everybody

❄️ Father was Russian, mother was Norwegian. It just feels right, yk?

❄️ This is playing into a personal HC, but I feel the voice in his head took on the voice of his father, promising that he'd be proud of him if he grabbed the Ice Dagger.

❄️ "Come now, Alexei. Don't you want to make me proud for once?"

❄️ At first it didn't move him. He'd heard how dangerous that thing was. He'd heard the tales of adventurers going mad while searching for it.

❄️ ...but what if he was different? what if he could manage it? what if he could finally be the one to wield it and control it?

❄️ he would be a hero.

❄️ then whispers of his kingdom's fate started to plague his mind.

❄️ and that's what got to him. he loved his people more than anything, his kingdom more than anything. he saved it from ruin, he didn't want his work to be all for nothing.

❄️ so he assembled a search party.

❄️ then he found it. it was everything he heard it was and more.

❄️ a gloriously carved dagger from an ancient glacier, with a crystal in the hilt, and an aura of magic surrounding it. it felt magical.

❄️ as the voices grew louder, he drew closer, and closer, and closer, until...

❄️ a flash of blue light flooded the room as he grabbed the hilt. he was practically the only survivor. well...not exactly.

❄️ the rest of his search party survived, they were just...frozen. they could observe the outside world, but couldn't move. frozen in chunks of ice, merely...observing.

❄️ meanwhile, Cruel King was frostburned almost all across his body, leaving only a small chunk of his flesh on the left side untouched, and his left eye frozen into a mere ice cube.

❄️ the fallout was devastating. the normally cheery town was quickly swept up in a deadly snowstorm, trapping the people who were in their homes inside, and freezing those who were unfortunate enough to be outside during the storm.

❄️ Blackrock dubbed this event "The great freeze".

❄️ After this, Cruel King was even more reclusive and quiet, feeling as if his people's suffering was his fault.

❄️ Technically it was, but he just wanted to do what would protect his beloved people! H-He didn't have any malicious intent! H-He swears!!

❄️ Then his defensiveness over his kingdom and people starts to grow, and fester into something more. Paranoia. Fear of outsiders. Fear of his kingdom getting destroyed even more.

❄️ Come time of Chapter 1, he increases security around the castle, using his newfound abilities to bring the statues around Blackrock Castle to life.

❄️ Whenever the heroes step onto the castle grounds, Cruel King can immediately tell the air has changed. That one of them is more than meets the eye. He tells his guards to be careful, but still defend with their lives.

❄️ When the heroes arrive in the throne room, unlike in-game, Cruel King freezes over the door out and windows. It was no longer a throne room. it was now a tomb.

❄️ The fight is long and grueling(more akin to Hatred in difficulty), but eventually, Cruel King is defeated, the Ice Dagger knocked from his hands for the first time in ages, finally rewarded with one last thing. Clarity.

❄️ He mumbles some ramblings about how he "just wanted to save my people", and how "the voices have returned...I failed him once again...I feel cold..."

❄️ and finally drops dead, cold on the floor.

❄️ Then he awakens in Nirvana. How long has he been out? Was he dead? Alive? Undead? He didn't understand.

❄️ But then his attention shifts to a more important topic.

❄️ the voices are gone. he was free.

❄️ thinking back on his final moments, he was furious with the heroes. how dare they take him away from his people, from his kingdom? how dare they strip the life he'd worked so hard for away from him?

❄️ but here he feels oddly...at peace. like all weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

❄️ Then he starts wondering what his kingdom is doing. how Kitchen Wizard is doing.

❄️ Then he hears the spawnpoint activate. He turns to the direction the sound came from, finding the party of heroes approaching.

❄️ They spar for a while, the king's anger slowly petering out as he sees their strength at its peak. yes...they could protect his kingdom. keep it afloat.

❄️ Eventually, he yields. And he gives them a card as gratitude for the sparring matches. They could call on him whenever they needed to.

❄️ extra headcanons time, WOOO-

❄️ Woe, inflicts lactose intolerance upon yon king.

❄️ He paid Kitchen Wizard visits as often as he could, he likes him :)

❄️ He dad sneezes so loud it just sometimes. echoes. it scares some of the knights sometimes.

❄️ He's always had ice magic, the Ice Dagger just amplified it to the UNHEALTHY EXTREME.

❄️ He sticks his tongue out whenever he focuses.

❄️ Shorp teefies. he could bite hard enough to make anyone bleed if threatened.

❄️ Speaking of bite, uh. he can like. have an IRON GRIP??? WITH HIS JAW??? SOMEHOW???

❄️ his favorite meal is a bowl of fully loaded baked potato soup from Kitchen Wizard :3

❄️ he WILL mope in his bathtub if needed, DO NOT INTERRUPT HIM!!!

❄️ The Snorey Bears around the area? He helped raise those mofuckers. They're fat because of HIM.

❄️ Someone tried to set up mouse traps around the castle once when CK was younger. CK sobbed deeply. They just want CHEESE!!! Said person was fired immediately.

❄️ Somehow always smells of peppermint...

❄️ Chunker. Kitchen Wizard made sure he was well fed when he was younger and CK kept those eating habits up into adulthood.

❄️ His ass could NOT survive Turitopolis' climate.

❄️ He never really got any portraits painted of himself, as he wanted to try to not become overly vain.

❄️ He sucks at showing emotion. Like, dude is terrible at it.

❄️ Usually speaks in a monotone voice, but if he yells, you better get running.

[remiratboi]

The Truth Of The Matter - Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 | Previous

Minotaur M Best Friend X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: monsterfucking, clubbing, drinking, slight body insecurity

A few weeks went by, and the dress haunted you from your closet. You had put it on a couple of times, but chickened out each time.

Tonight was the night, though. You were going to do it. You were feeling hot today, and you figured if there was ever a time, now was it. You and Rin were both getting ready for the usual club, respectively.

You spent more time than you normally did on your face and hair. You went ultra femme, the tight red dress and sheer black tights. You put on your favourite strapy black heels and curled your hair. After a final look in the mirror, and a calming breath, you made your way to the living room where Rin was waiting for you.

You felt nervous for some reason. And embarrassed. You tried shaking it.

Rin caught you from the corner of his eye, and did a legitimate double take. His jaw dropped, for the second time.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” His voice cracked.

“Yeah, I mean, if I look as hot as you say I do, maybe I’ll catch someone extra pretty tonight.” You joked. His face went blank. Your normally open friend became unreadable.

“You know, I’m actually not up to it tonight.” He spoke flatly, but his words felt like knives. Did he not like the dress on you anymore? “I… I’m not feeling good. I just can’t take it.” He finished lamely.

Your shoulders sank. “But I was so excited.” You pouted and looked at your dolled up face in the decorative mirror that hung nearby.

“You should still go. Have fun. I’m probably just gonna go to bed early.” His tone was still bizarre. You didn’t understand.

“No, it’s ok, I’ll make some soup, and we can watch a-” you turned back to your room as you spoke, but were interrupted by his suddenly harsh tone.

“No, just go. I’m fine. Go have fun.” He stood and walked past you. The door to his room clicked when it latched. You stood in your living room, bewildered and a little bit hurt.

Fuck it. You thought. You looked hot, felt good, and clearly Rin needed some space. You’d give him as much as he wanted. You grabbed your handbag and headed out.

The club was dead when you arrived. You hadn’t meant to leave quite that early, but after the strange experience with Rin, you’d practically ran there. About 15 people milled around.

Brutus welcomed you with a low whistle when you walked by him. You blushed and twirled, giggling.

“Damn, you poured into that?” He teased and followed it with a chef's kiss.

You received a similar response from Viola. “Baby if I hadn’t paid a fuck ton of money to turn my cock into a pussy, I’d have a raging boner right about now.”

“Ew, Vi?” You replied, screwing up your face. She cackled at your response.

“Seriously though, you look amazing. New dress?” She spoke as she prepped the bar for the night. You reached over and plucked a cherry from a dish, popping it into your mouth.

“Yeah, Rin bought it for me.” Your smile fell as you were reminded of the strange interaction earlier.

“Speaking of the big lug, where is he?” You didn’t reply for a moment, lost in thought. It was long enough she paused, and looked up at you. “Woah, what’s with the face? You guys okay?” She asked. You knew it wasn’t like you two to have conflict? And while you had wanted to move past it, it seemed harder than you’d expected.

“Huh?” You shook your head slightly and looked back at her. “Oh, yeah. Uh, he said something about how he ‘just can’t take it’.” You were about to explain that he wasn’t feeling well when Viola laughed.

“Yeah well, you can’t blame him.” She went back to her prep work. “Honestly, about time he said something.”

Maybe if she had been paying better attention, she’d have seen how confused you were. That she had misunderstood. But she hadn’t been. And she didn’t realize.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Well I mean the guys been in love with you his entire life, and he has to watch you go home with person after person each night. I wouldn’t be able to take it either.” She finally looked back at your face. It was her turn to be confused at your expression of utter shock.

“What are you talking about?” You spoke quietly. The music almost drowning you out.

Viola froze. “… What are you talking about?”

“Rin isn’t feeling well. He said he couldn’t take coming out tonight.” You clarified. It felt like the whole world fell away. The only thing you could see was Viola. “What did you think I was saying?”

Viola laughed awkwardly. “Yeah that’s what I meant too!” She spoke with too much enthusiasm. As if she could trick you into forgetting what she had just said.

“Vi, I swear to god.” You pushed every bit of threat you could muster into your tone. Her shoulders sagged. She sighed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you. It was an accident.” Viola chewed on her bottom lip.

You glared at her.

“Fine. But don’t you dare tell him I told you. I’ll make Brutus ban you.” She pointed to the door you knew he stood outside.

You crossed your arms. “Honestly, I’d like to see you try. He likes me more.” You smirked. “But I’m not going to say anything anyway. Can you please just explain yourself?” You refocused.

“Each night, you go home with someone. And each night, he sits here and drowns his sorrows, complaining about how much he loves you. I think he’s just a coward, but he says you don’t feel the same, and he doesn’t want to risk the friendship.” She looked at you anxiously. “I don’t know, that’s just what he’s said.”

She didn’t even finish the sentence before you were turning around. And then you were running.

[alicewrotethis]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭﹒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! bokuto needs a tutor for his astronomy class, and what better person to do that than you? . ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip! b. kotaro x astronomy tutor! reader, sfw  ﹒ ◠ note!!   i thought of this and just had to write it down omg probably my fav i have so many more ideas for this once i finish part 2 of my atsumu series౨  wc!! 2.8k   ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood!! series playlist

The campus library was supposed to be your sanctuary— a quiet haven where the soft rustle of pages and the hum of fluorescent lights allowed your thoughts to stretch as vast as the stars you studied.

But today, peace shattered the moment he arrived.

Bokuto Kotaro stormed in like a supernova, all bright energy and booming voice, waving his crumpled astronomy work like a flag of surrender.

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re the tutor, right?" he asked, his grin wide and unbothered by the dozen glares aimed his way.

You stared at him, momentarily speechless, wondering how anyone could radiate that much energy this early in the morning. It barely cracked eleven AM.

Under normal circumstances, you'd have never stepped five feet in the owl-headed boy's vicinity, but for the extra credit in your classes, you would.

Bokutos coach had come to you, requesting you tutor Boktuo on astronomy as you were the only one available and the only one who excelled in the university's astronomy course. In return, he promised hed twist a few strings to get you some extra credit, and after a few moments of debating you accepted, it couldn't have been that bad right?

Wrong.

"Bokuto-san, this is a library," You reminded him, subtly looking around at all the faces watching Bokuto's rather bright form.

Bokuto blinked at you, his grin faltering for only a second before bouncing back as if the concept of an 'indoor voice' simply didn’t exist in his world.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice ever so slightly, "Right, right, sorry!" he whispered, though it was still loud enough to earn a second wave of shushing from a nearby table.

"I just got so excited! I mean, how cool is this? Studying stars? Like, actual stars!" He punctuated his sentence with a dramatic gesture that sent his crumpled papers fluttering to the ground.

You sighed, already feeling the beginning of a headache, "Bokuto-san, I don’t think you understand—"

"No, no, I get it!" he cut in, crouching to scoop up his fallen notes.

"This is serious business, I’m totally ready to learn, you’re, like, my last hope before the coach makes me sit out for the rest of the season, "He looked up at you then, his golden eyes wide and genuine, and for a moment, you almost believed he meant it.

Almost.

"Then maybe start by sitting down... quietly," you said, gesturing to the chair across from you.

Bokuto saluted, far too enthusiastically for a library, and flopped into the seat with enough force to make the table rattle, causing you pinched the bridge of your nose.

This is going to be a long semester.

Bokuto leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement, as he spread his crumpled papers across the table like some sort of battlefield strategist, "Okay, so I was looking at the syllabus— well, kinda— and I think I get it, stars are, like, really far away, right? But also super hot? Like... the sun, but not?"

You stared at him, trying to decipher if that was a question, a statement, or a Bokuto-ism you’d just have to get used to, "That’s... technically correct, Bokuto-san, but—"

"See? I’m not totally hopeless!" He beamed, leaning back with almost contagious confidence, "Coach was all, ‘You’ve gotta study harder,’ and I was like, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve totally got this!’ And then—"

"Bokuto-san," you cut in, resisting the urge to bang your head on the table, "Do you even have your textbook?"

His grin faltered, "...Doesn't a syllabus count?"

Did he really just ask that? Where even was his bag? Why would he sign up for astronomy if he didn't even know the difference between a textbook and a syllabus?

You sighed, long and deep, feeling your patience wear thinner by the second, "No, Bokuto-san, a syllabus does not count, we’re going to need to start at square one,"

Bokuto straightened in his chair, slapping his hands on the table with a determined glint in his eye, "Alright, teach me! I’m ready!"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the other students in the library who were now watching him like a particularly loud wildlife documentary.

"Quietly, Bokuto-san, this is still a library," you muttered, before pulling out your notebook.

He immediately dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper, "Right, right! Quiet stars! Got it,"

You pressed your lips together, stifling a laugh despite yourself.

You took a deep breath and opened your notebook, flipping to the diagrams you’d drawn for the last exam, "Alright, Bokuto-san, let’s start simple, can you name the three main types of stars?"

Bokuto leaned over the table, squinting at your neatly labeled chart like it was written in another language, "Uh... big, medium, and small?"

You blinked, "That’s not even remotely close,"

He scratched his head, looking sheepish, "Okay, okay, give me a hint! Is one of them... shiny?"

You bit back a groan, tapping your pen against the table.

"They’re all shiny, that’s kind of their thing, let’s try this instead," You pointed to the diagram.

"The three types are massive stars, intermediate stars, and low-mass stars, think of it like volleyball players— each type has a different role and lifespan depending on how much ‘energy’ they have."

Bokuto’s eyes lit up, "Ohhh, like an ace versus a libero! Okay, okay, I get it now! So... low-mass stars would be like liberos? They don’t get the spotlight, but they last a long time?"

You blinked, surprised, "Actually... that’s a decent analogy, I think,"

"See? I’m a genius!" He declared, earning another round of glares from the surrounding tables. He shrank a little under the scrutiny but quickly recovered, leaning in closer, "Alright, hit me with another one!"

Bokuto had only taken astronomy because he thought it'd be an easy class, he saw stars all the time, in movies, and outside; even the lights in the gym looked like stars! So how hard could it have been?

What he wasn't prepared for was needing to name them off the top of his head, and he never even understood the whole constellation thing, they all looked the same! He just could never see it no matter how long he stared at the sky, and he was starting to believe it was some inside joke he wasn't apart of.

Encouraged by his enthusiasm, you turned the page to a diagram of the life cycle of a star.

"Okay. This is how a star evolves over time. It starts as a nebula—basically a giant cloud of gas and dust, and from there, depending on its mass, it can become a protostar, then a main-sequence star, and eventually..."

Bokuto’s hand shot up like he was in a classroom, "Ooh! Ooh! Does it explode?!"

You stared at him, caught off guard, "...Yes, some stars do end their lives in a supernova,"

“I knew it!" He grinned like he’d just won the lottery, "Stars are like aces! They go out with a bang!"

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, "That’s... one way to put it, I guess,"

Bokuto was definitely a creative person you'd give him that much.

For the next hour, you worked through more diagrams and explanations, occasionally pausing to translate the material into volleyball metaphors when Bokuto started zoning out. To your surprise, he was actually listening— though his 'notes' consisted of doodles of stars with dramatic eyebrows and stick-figure volleyball players labeled 'supernova aces.'

Despite the silly drawings instead of words, the notes actually made sense, like he was keeping up and actually processing what you were saying, for the most part, it was as if he just needed the right way of studying, and that way was comparing things to volleyball— something you had no clue about.

When the session finally ended, Bokuto leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a satisfied sigh.

"Man, that wasn’t so bad!" Bokuto said, his grin as wide as ever, "I mean, I still don’t totally get why stars have lifecycles or whatever, but that thing about red giants being, like, the blockers of the universe? That stuck!"

You arched an eyebrow, packing up your notebook, "You do realize blockers don’t explode into planetary nebulae, right?"

He waved a hand dismissively, "Details, details, the point is, I’m totally gonna ace this next quiz, the coach is gonna be so impressed!"

You paused, glancing at his scribbled mess of notes, amidst the chaotic drawings and exaggerated labels, there was a strange kind of logic— one that only Bokuto seemed to understand, yet seemingly effective if he actually understood.

"Well, if this... masterpiece helps you remember the material, I guess that’s what matters," you said, sliding your bag over your shoulder.

"Exactly!" he declared, shooting up from his seat with enough force to make the table rattle, he held out his fist toward you, his grin practically glowing, "Thanks! You’re the best tutor ever!"

You blinked at his outstretched hand, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. Hesitantly, you raised your fist and bumped it against his, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm seep into you.

"Just don’t forget everything we covered the second you step out of this library, Bokuto-san," You replied, trying to sound stern but failing to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

"No way! I’m locked in now," He said, tapping the side of his head, "It’s all up here, supernova aces, red blockers, all of it,"

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh, "I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t forget your textbook,"

As you turned to leave, Bokuto called after you, his voice loud enough to earn another round of glares, you lost count at this point, "See ya, don’t miss me too much!"

Bokuto smiled widely, his papers in hand, he felt like he could really pass this class with your help, and he couldn't wait till tomorrow to show you that he in fact did not forget everything you've explained to him. He liked studying with you, you were patient, sort of, in your own way!

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading in your chest.

This is going to be a long semester.

But this time, the idea didn’t seem so bad.

You stepped into your dorm room with a small content sigh, replaying the memories of hours ago a small smile made its way onto your face, you were glad your roommate had been spending more time at her boyfriends apartment.

Boyfriend, the word itself grossed you out.

You could never imagine yourself having a boyfriend right now, you were just too focused on college and your major, You neither had the time nor the patience required to handle the responsibilities of a relationship.

Throwing your bag onto your desk you headed for your closet, wanting to change into something comfier before you began your late-night studying.

As you plopped onto your bed you felt your phone buzz, the screen illuminating your face as you read the notification.

unknown number: hey!!

you: hello?

unkown number: its me, bokuto!!

A smile appeared on your face as you bit your lip to try and suppress it.

you: how'd you get my number? and why are you texting so late bokuto-san?

bokuto-san: details details, anyway! do you have a window in your dorm??!111!!!111!11

you: yes bokuto-san, its mandatory...

bokuto-san: face time me !!!!

With a sigh you clicked on his contact and dialed his number, what could possibly be so important that he needed to call you so late? And why were you entertaining it?

Within an instant he picked up, the sight of bokuto filling the entire screen, a wide grin evident on his features.

"What did you need Bokuto-san?" You asked, propping the phone up on your nightstand while you sat on your bed.

"Your pajamas are cute! We should get matching ones!" He blurted out, you were wearing dark blue pajama pants that had stars littered on them.

The compliment made a blush rise to your cheeks, but you wouldn't let it distract you, "Bokuto-san," You said sternly.

"So serious all the time! Anyways, go to your window!" He said, and from what you could see in his background he seemed to be moving around.

With a sigh, you picked the phone up and walked to your window, "Now what?" You questioned, looking out to make sure he wasn't climbing it or something, you wouldn't put anything past this guy.

You heard him laugh, "Now open your window and tell me how to find this Orion guy!"

You smiled fondly, one of your favorite constellations was Orion, "Alright, Bokuto-san, but only for a little," You firmly said.

You opened your window and peeked your head out a bit, feeling the cold breeze hit your skin and sent a shiver down your spine.

"Cold, huh?" You heard Bokuto say, in a much calmer tone.

"Yeah," You stared up at the sky, looking for Orion's belt, "You ready Bokuto-san?"

Your gaze shifted back down to your phone, seeing Bokuto on his back in the grass, his eyes were looking past the phone and into the sky intently, the only thing illuminating his face was the moon and the subtle yellow light of an estrayed college sidewalk light.

"Yeah," He said focused, though his eyes beamed with excitement.

"Alright," You said, gently smiling as you redirected your focus onto the sky, "You’re gonna want to look for three stars in a straight line, they’re not super bright, but once you see them it's hard to unsee them," You explained as simple as you could, already finding Orion's belt once again.

Bokuto squinted, his brow furrowing as he scanned the dark expanse above."Uh… wait, wait! I think I got it!" He said enthusiastically, "Is it that one?" He pointed, seemingly forgetting you were on the phone.

"Bokuto-san, I'm not with you," You said with a soft giggle.

“Oh, right!" Bokuto laughed, the sound was sheepish but warm."Okay, okay, so, uh... describe it again? I think I’m close!"

You smiled, shaking your head,"Alright, focus on the three stars in a straight line, they’re pretty evenly spaced, and they’re just below a really bright star— Betelgeuse, can you see that one?"

“Betel-juice, yeah, I remember from earlier!" He said, his voice brimming with excitement. You heard the faint rustle of grass through the phone as he shifted around.

"Alright, I see the bright one, now... oh! I see them!"

"Really?" You asked, grinning, almost as excited as he was.

Almost.

"Yeah! Three stars, right? In a row? That’s it, isn’t it?" His voice was so loud and triumphant, it was hard not to laugh.

Bokuto couldn't believe what he was seeing, he actually saw a constellation, it wasn't just an inside joke between people in his class, it wasn't some myth, it was real! And you helped him see it, you're the reason he doesn't feel so left out anymore.

You laughed tenderly, "Yes, that’s it, congratulations, Bokuto-san, you’ve officially found Orion’s Belt."

"This is so cool!" He exclaimed, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.

"It really is," You say, happy he feels as excited as you were when you found your first constellation. "If you look north a little you'll see two brighter stars, those represent his shoulders, and if you look south of his belt you'll find his feet,"

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up, "Man, it’s way cooler when you actually know what you’re looking at, what’s next? Are there more belts? Like a whole star wardrobe?" He asked enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. "Not quite, but there’s plenty more to see, first, you might want to take a moment to just enjoy Orion,"

There was a pause, and when Bokuto spoke again, his voice was softer, almost a whisper. "This is actually kind of amazing,"

You looked down at your phone screen, and you noticed Bokutos eyes were glazed over in awe, adorning his cheeks was a pinkish tint.

"You're amazing," Bokuto said, turning his direction towards his phone screen, watching as a smile tugged at your lips. His tone was still the same soft voice, a contrast to his usual theatrical self.

He was telling the truth, Bokuto found you amazing, how you knew so much about the stars, something he wouldn't have even thought twice about before meeting you or before he signed up for the class. He was glad he did, he was glad he was failing the class because if he wasn't, he wouldn't be on the phone with you, lying in the grass and staring at the stars.

And just like that, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the stars didn't seem so distant anymore.

navigation !

© 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !

[ghouljams]

Heya Ghoul... I have a question.

How do you tell if you've been like... affected by something? My ex practices Wiccan stuff and she is very obsessive and still texts my old number and like... yeah, I'm worried about her doing something. We were together roughly two years and she's still trying to contact me after a year of no contact and she's saying how like I'm her soulmate and stuff and I'm just... not into her at all anymore. Like she gave me emotional trauma and stuff, almost convinced me to move up to where she is (long distance, manipulative) and I'm not comfortable going out of state right now because that's a huge reset I don't want to do again...

Not to ramble here too much, I'm sorry if it's too weird or something so feel free to ignore this, but I really don't know who to ask in terms of the practice. I'm also not really sure how to bring up the topic of spells or hexes or whatever, I'm not trying to be dismissive in any way but it's like talking about just feels stifling and awkward. We (ex and I) never really talked about her practices and stuff, but sometimes she'd talk about a ritual she did or wanted to do, or spell jars she wanted to make... I never really learned how to talk about it, either, in general so maybe it just feels weird because it's foreign. I don't doubt it exists, but it's not something I understand very well.

I didn't intend to dump this on you but I did so in sorry about that. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a great day.

Hello hello you have come to the right witch.

First of all FUCK WICCA that shit is just magic stollen from other religions and closed practices, plus it was created by some random white dude in like the 80s so it's not even this deeply ancient practice that people think it is.

Anyway Wiccans also have this whole thing about "do no harm" but lemme tell you something, i am not Wiccan and I will do harm. So here's what you're gonna do.

We're going to start with a cleanse. I like doing a Limpia, since that's the most hands on and accessible.

You're gonna get an egg and rub that Thang all over your body. I mean all over, and try to focus on "cleaning" yourself off with it. Be careful not to break it but make sure you rub it over the top of your head, sole of your feet, stomach/heart/hands, you wanna get anything you think feels bad. Then we're gonna crack the egg into a glass of water.

Now you can read the egg and see if she's actually hexed you, but for your purposes it doesn't matter because even if she hasn't we're gonna throw some salt, ceyanne/chili powder/red pepper flakes, and some garlic into that water. Then you're gonna toss the whole thing down the toilet, close the lid and flush it.

Cleanse done.

Next your gonna take a jar or a bag and you're gonna put anything sharp that you have in your house and you're willing to get rid of into it. Nails, thorns, thumb tacks, needles, pins, toss it in there. If you're using a jar add some vinegar, if your using a bag don't. Then we're doing hot stuff again: chili powder, red pepper flakes, anything spicy goes in your ward. Add some salt. Spit in it. Write a warning on a piece of paper "anyone who sends harm my way will get it back 3 fold" and shove it in there. Then bury that thing. Preferably you do this at the edge of your property but if you can't bury anything out it over your door.

Done.

Other witches get real fancy with their wards but I'm lazy and most people don't have a ton of fancy witchcraft stuff, so we work with what we've got.

Otherwise. Idk magic isn't real, the worst she can do is just like keep trying to contact you and being annoying. She'll get bored eventually and move on to tormenting someone else, but if she does send anything your way or you feel like you're not acting like yourself, do a cleanse.

[blackjackkent]

One of the things I've been excited about regarding reaching this point in the game is that @astreamofstars informed me that there is Additional Minsc Content which I missed during Hector's playthrough! Specifically, last time I was so excited to follow him and meet Boo that I completely missed that you can see Minsc's little hideout down in the sewers, with his living area and some of his keepsakes. c:

He's actually got kind of a cute little setup here - bed area (complete with a cute little divider), cooking firepit, washtub, dining table. A lot of random chests and boxes and papers lying around. It amused me that the first thing I noticed was that the only thing on the dining table is "Whole Chicken" which feels on-brand.

The washbasin has several soap bars and sponges next to it. I know I'm hung up on the presence of this washbasin but for some reason I am deeply charmed at Minsc living in a sewer with his rodent and nevertheless having an elaborate bathing setup. (Alternate interpretation - he has it because it is His Home and Should Have a Bath but never actually used it. XD )

On a table next to the bed is a book labeled "The Stone Lord's Sketches," which is both adorable and heartbreaking:

Buddy. :( It's okay, you can remember him and have him back now.

The real treasure trove, however, is in the next room, past the wall Minsc smashed through, which has a number of items in what seem to be places of honor on pedestals along the walls.

It seems like someone at Larian forgot to make models for these items, because all of them (with the exception of the "Cracked Wooden Mask" look in-game like inscribed stone tablets. But we can use our imaginations!

All of the characters have commentary on each one if they're the active character to click on them, although Minsc's comment takes precedence if he's in the party even if he's not the active character. I'm going to list out all of them because I like digging through the dialogue files, but obviously Minsc and Jaheira have the most relevant things to say about each.

-----

Starting with "A Mailed Fist":

Narrator: A mailed fist in the Firecam armor style. RAKHA: Gorgeous mail on that fist. ASTARION: A mailed fist, for all your punching needs. LAE'ZEL: A mailed fist? Brutal indeed, but I prefer weapons with a more elegant profile. GALE: The mailed fist of a paladin of Torm. No doubt many felt the steely grip of its wearer's righteous justice. SHADOWHEART: A mailed fist. There must be a story behind this. WYLL: A mailed fist? Great for a paladin. Not so much for a warlock. KARLACH: Nice mail. HALSIN: A mailed fist. What tale does this have to tell? MINTHARA: A mailed fist - an inelegant but brutal weapon. JAHEIRA: Keldorn Firecam. He tried to teach Minsc much - a happy thing, that paladins are so patient. MINSC: Keldorn Firecam! He spoke much of honor and faith, but he fought like a berserker when it counted.

Keldorn! In this worldstate he traveled with Caden for a little bit and was a good mentor to the young Bhaalspawn for a time - although Caden eventually forced him to stay home and fix his marital problems. XD

-----

Next, "A Turnip":

Narrator: A humble turnip, preserved by drying. RAKHA: Huh. Dinner? ASTARION: It's - it's a turnip. Just a turnip, for all to see. LAE'ZEL: A turnip. Or is it a swede? Could never tell them apart. GALE: A humble vegetable depicted amongst such adventurous company. That is a turnip for the books. SHADOWHEART: A turnip? Not the most exciting of keepsakes. WYLL: A turnip. That's, er, something all right. KARLACH: All right, explain the turnip. HALSIN: A turnip? Not my favorite of nature's root vegetables, I must admit. MINTHARA: Is this animal, mineral, or fungus? I have not seen its like before. JAHEIRA: Jan Jansen. I admired his respect for growing things. Less so, his disregard for his own ripe smell. MINSC: Jan. A strange little man, but a fine friend. I can forgive him his love of turnips.

LOL. Of the five past companions represented here, Jan is the only one Caden never traveled with. He witnessed the little gnome getting carted off to prison early in the game, promptly decided that was something well worth minding his own business about, and never followed up further.

Also holy shit, that world-class pun from Gale out of nowhere.

-----

"A Warhammer":

Narrator: A worn but still capable warhammer, sized for a halfling. RAKHA: What a hammer. Looks like it has a history, too. ASTARION: Ah, a warhammer. A beautifully messy weapon. LAE'ZEL: Quite the warhammer. I imagine it's crushed more than a few skulls. GALE: No ordinary warhammer. Carved with the Luiric symbol for the number three. I wonder why. SHADOWHEART: It must take quite some brawn to wield a warhammer like that. WYLL: A warhammer like this cracks your skull, and you won't ever be the same after. KARLACH: Oh, wow. I bet that can do some real damage. HALSIN: An impressive hammer. MINTHARA: This hammer could shatter even the thickest of skulls. JAHEIRA: Mazzy Fentan. A living lesson not to trade tankards with a halfling; they have much less distance to fall. MINSC: Mazzy Fentan. Hah - not even the gods dared deny her when she sought to become a paladin!

Mazzy! Definitely Caden's favorite of the "flex slot" companions he traveled with in BG2. She was a super fierce halfling and wasn't officially a paladin but wanted to be. Nice to hear that maybe she reached that pinnacle in the end. :) (And LOL Jaheira.)

I'm not sure what the significance is of Gale's comment about the number three, and Google is unrevealing.

-----

"A Pair of Wings":

Narrator: A woodcarving of a pair of wings, like an eagle's but longer somehow. RAKHA: A pair of wings. ASTARION: Some discarded... wings? All right... LAE'ZEL: A pair of wings... GALE: The sylvan pinions of an Avariel. No easy task to capture their hollow delicacy in stone. SHADOWHEART: Wings? Who did these belong to? WYLL: A pair of wings? Hm. KARLACH: Some... wings? HALSIN: A pair of wings? MINTHARA: Wings. Were these plucked from some unfortunate celestial? JAHEIRA: Aerie's wings. She didn't need them, in the end. MINSC: Aerie. A brave avariel, who agreed to be my witch while I needed. She went in search of new wings.

Haha, the whole Act 1 gang is pretty befuddled by this one apparently. (And it seems like there might have been some confusion among the writers about whether they were carved wings or real ones.)

But awwww, yay, Aerie! Jaheira's comment on her is very sweet. :3 In this worldstate, of course, Aerie is safely in Faenya-Dail with her husband Caden and (by this point) several generations worth of descendents. I choose to believe that Minsc is speaking in a poetic metaphor, and the new wings Aerie went in search of were those of her son Quayle. :)

-----

And finally... the "Cracked Wooden Mask":

Narrator: A cracked wooden mask with female features, in the Rashemi style. RAKHA: Nice mask. What's the story here? ASTARION: A wooden mask. Not bad, but it's seen better days. LAE'ZEL: A wooden mask, perhaps of some cultural significance? GALE: A wychlaran face veil, worn by powerful witches in the Urlingwood wilds of Rashemen. The adornment of a skilled spell-weaver. SHADOWHEART: A wooden mask. Looks old. WYLL: A wooden mask - the sort worn by Rashemen's witches. KARLACH: Nice wooden mask. HALSIN: A wooden mask. For what purpose? MINTHARA: This mask is beautiful. I envy the one who had the authority to wear it. JAHEIRA: Hah. Even the wychlaran's mask could not hide Dynaheir's beauty - nor dull her daggered eyes. MINSC: All over Rashemen, they raised statues to Dynaheir. But this is Minsc's true monument to her - her wychlara mask.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. <3 <3 Dynaheir. <3 Minsc is such a good, loyal boy.

I love that Gale was able to clock the significance of all of these items (except the turnip) on sight. Wyll picks up on this one too which is interesting; wonder if a Rashemi envoy or two came through Wyrm's Rock when he was younger.

-----

All in all I'm a big feels puddle about all of this. I love that (more or less by chance) these are almost all characters that Caden did indeed hang out with extensively in the past games. And it is very bittersweet to see Minsc, who had the past ripped away from him by force, clinging on to these little remnants of it - particularly pieces of his past witches - with all of his strength.

[h-didanart]

^w^

Let’s get to it shall we?

So, I have studied the drawing for a bit and ended up coming up with around six relevant things that are probably symbolism

First is the mirror- it is cracked though it mostly is intact, the cracks all originate from the same point in LBM’s reflection: their eye. Mirrors tend to be good for identity symbolism, showing a character’s reflection and all, so thinking about it like that and seeing the state this mirror is at we could come to the conclusion that it probably means LBM has identity issues. This will come back later

Next is the fact LBM is making a gesture of shooting herself, which kinda makes me concerned for his mental health tbh. I see this as potentially symbolizing LBM not liking themselves or at least holding some sort of grudge towards himself. Or maybe it’s meant to be like the past them is dead or something, idk

Next is the fact the mirror is cracked over the eye it never opens, which I’m starting to think is actually missing. Now, I don’t know how you differentiate your Bloodmoons but I have seen others and myself use the ‘two eyes-two twins’ method, so like one twin has one eye and the other the other, and if you do this as well then the implication here is that one of the twins is dead. Which I think is true actually because of the drawing you dropped when I asked you for lore the other day (which I saw but forgot to reblog :()

Next is something I’m not too confident on and am purely adding ‘cuz I think it’s funny. So the yellow stains yes? They seem to be magic of some sort, though their most notable feature is that they’re yellow, and according to the Bibble yellow is the color of betrayal. And deceit and illness in the negative side too I guess. Feel free to disregard this one :P

Next I want to turn to the background on the reflection. It’s all destroyed and there’s magic flying and stuff, which probably means LBM is in a really dilapidated place, or she lost her temper, or I’m overthinking, idk I’m not good at catching thematic symbolism

Next let’s look at the Lord’s expression. Vacant. Empty. I’d say maybe even melancholic. This just strengthens my conviction of one of the twins being dead y’know?

And finally, what I asked about before, the flowers. Red Anemone Flowers have a plethora of meanings, as is standard for a lot of flowers, and thanks to your answer from a bit ago I could narrow the potential meaning a bit. First the slightly more unlikely one, emotional attachment and fragility, two of the Anemone’s meanings in Japan, tied to what we saw before and the fact a mirror— aka a very fragile thing —is in the scene we could get a somewhat emotional view at LBM’s state, seemingly missing someone who they cared for deeply. Then we have one I’m almost 100% certain you intended for, death and loss of a loved one, it just fits so well with everything else, LBM, the bloody god, thinking back on his past and mourning the (potential) loss of their twin, holding resentment towards themselves for it and the environment showing that. And lastly the thing you 100% intended for, the blood of Christ, I mean, I mean, c’mon almost all the art you’ve made for this guy has heavy religious tones, why wouldn’t you use the flower that represents The Christ’s death?

So, putting this all together, I think I can string together the lore that’s being implied here:

Lord Bloodmoon’s twin is dead, they might’ve died on their own terms or the Lord might’ve been involved someway, who knows, what matters is they are dead. And Lord BM, not being very fond of emotions but anger, doesn’t tend to show how much it affects him, mostly turning all the emotions into itself, maybe even having the feelings grow into self loathing stemming from guilt? It affects her, badly.

So yeah that’s my reading

I Am so sorry if I got it all wrong :(

Tbh I’m not very good at symbolism; foreshadowing and implications of the past and characterization are a lot more fun to play with for me personally, and I kinda sucked a lot at catching symbolism in school assignments, so if I got everything terribly wrong I apologize

Requests?!

Lord Bloodmoon Lore

Or uh, Lord Bloodmoon as a stained glass window? Anything Lord Bloodmoon

Or canon BM in a field of flowers I guess

Or your main in Dandy’s World?

pew pew

1/4

plus these goobers

i main Rodger and Finn (Rodger for public runs and Finn for solo ones)

i like extracting a lot, so i like Rodger a lot! in the future id probably end up being a Vee player tbh,,

Finn is just fun because hes fast LOL. dont think i could play as him in a multiplayer lobby because i tend to get a bit.... reckless with him pfft

2/4

[telebeast]

[Submitted by @lukasdoodles] HELLLP PLEASEEEE!!!

[miutonium]

🏃‍♀️Hi hi I'm reopening my commission again since I am in the middle of my final year project and I needed funds to support my art project _(:'3」∠)_

*also if you see my previous commission post minutes ago, please disregard that I put the wrong info there ;w; Also appreciate if you guys delete my previous post too if you reblogged it 🥲

Please take note that since I am in the middle of my final year and I also have 3 pending commissions to go right now, I only be able to fully commit to this slot around the end of July!

SLOTS TAKEN: 2/5

*Taken slots will be updated from time to time!

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🔷️My TOS, art samples and additional rules/info can be read on my carrd here.

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🥺👉👈Reblogs are definitely very much appreciated 🥰💕💕