#animal I had with me at the moment - the snake

[cinnamon-flame]

I played some Alicia online again and I just had to draw another armor set, twin drawing to this one. I also decided to include my favorite animal companion cause I love her

[deepdowninshipperhell]

Thinking about getting some isopods. I’ve always been intrigued by some local ones. It wouldn’t solve all of my problems (realistically, it would solve zero of my problems and maybe even create an additional one, namely that some of my friends would suddenly be decidedly less excited about visiting me), but also. I would love to get some isopods

[fushitoru]

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

[itsjustrosee]

Alright because of all the support on my last post with Stiles, I figured I should write another 😚👍

Worried Sick Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Context: established relationship, Stiles comes to visit you when you don't show up to school

Warnings: none, just fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

You had been in your room curled up in bed, tangled in blankets and stuffed animals all while you were supposed to be at school.

You had just gotten your period and your cramps left you nothing short of bedridden and on the verge of throwing up all day. You were experiencing womanhood at its absolute finest, to say the least.

Suddenly, the door to your room swung open, and a very confused and distressed Stiles entered your room. His expression softened once he saw you weren't dead or bleeding out, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.

"Not using the window to get in anymore?" You asked jokingly, rolling to your side to face Stiles who had now set down his bag and kneeled at the side of your bed. Being Scott's twin, you and Stiles needed to keep your relationship a secret. That's why when it came to hanging out, Stiles would always come in through your window rather than your front door so the both of you wouldn't get caught.

"Well, you gave me a key to your house for a reason right? Also going in through the window would've taken me too long," Stiles explains, his expression still slightly filled with worry as he placed one of his hands on your bed while the other tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"What were you in such a rush for?" You ask with a chuckle in reaction to Stiles's seriousness, snaking your hand out of your covers and placing it on top of his.

"Well you didn't show up to school and I was worried," He explains, his expression soft and genuine. "I thought something bad might've happened," He says quietly and slowly.

For any other boyfriend, his girlfriend not showing up to school shouldn't cause them this much stress, but considering all the supernatural shit Stiles has somehow managed to get involved in, he couldn't help but worry himself to death.

"I'm okay Stiles, really I am," You say, reassuring him, "Just on my period that's all," You explain, trying to manage a smile but your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out, so it probably came out as more slightly disturbing than comforting.

"Ok good, I thought it could've had something to do with that. Which is why-" Stiles says, relieved, as he gets up and grabs his bag before sitting down next to you on the bed. "I have come prepared," He continues with a goofy smirk plastered on that stupidly cute face of his.

You sit up lazily as Stiles begins to show you what he bought. He whips out a plastic bag from inside of his backpack with items ranging from Tylonal, Advil, and Mydol, (which you immediately snatched and swallowed), all the way to chocolates and a heated stuffed animal.

"I got confused when I saw all the... feminine products, so- um-" He explains while taking out yet another plastic shopping bag from his backpack to reveal at least ten different boxes of tampons and pads.

You pause and stare at the ginormous haul of items that Stiles has bought you and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

You appreciated Stiles and his caring towards you more than anything, especially in moments like these. He always knew the right things to do and the right things to say, and you loved him for it.

Stiles, however, didn't take your silence in the right way. "I'm sorry- it's stupid I know, I bought way too much. I bet I still have the receipt somewhere, maybe I can still return it-" He asked, sadness and disappointment slowly creeping into his voice.

"No!" You reply quickly. "Don't return it, and none of this is stupid," You confirm before sighing for a moment. "Stiles, this is literally like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," You explain, turning to look at him while you say it, a smile slowly forming on your face as you do so.

"Really?" Stiles questions, his embarrassed expression being replaced by one of relief and pride.

"Really," You say while scooting over in your bed and patting the space next to you, beckoning him to join you.

Stiles lays down next to you, and you gladly roll over and climb on top of him, resting your head by the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. The heat radiated off of his body as you listened to his heartbeat and the slow movements of his chest going up and down.

Stiles brought the covers over you and kissed your head before speaking once more, "You don't want to use the stuffed animal I gave you?" He asks with a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back.

"Nope, I think you'll do just fine," You say as you lift your head to look up at him.

Stiles takes this moment to lean down and kiss you gently. He kissed and held you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if with one wrong move you'd shatter into a million pieces, so he treated you with such care, holding you softly and closely to make sure you didn't.

Though the kiss only lasted a few moments, it made you forget all about the pain you felt in your abdomen and replaced it with butterflies. He definitely had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable whenever you were around him.

Once he pulled away, he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know that right baby?" He said, his voice so faint that it practically made your heart beat out of your chest. He removed one of his hands from your back and placed it on your cheek and you immediately melted into his touch.

You could only let out a satisfied hum in response, you were too lost in his features to bother replying coherently.

Stiles let out a low chuckle as he kissed your forehead, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, stroking your hair as he did so.

"Get some sleep okay?" He said while wrapping his arm just a bit tighter around you, "I'll be right here if you need anything," He said softly.

"I know," You say, your words muffled slightly as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, "You're not goin' anywhere," You say with a smile as you place a quick kiss on his neck.

"Didn't plan on it," Stiles mumbles, about to fall asleep even before you do. But as your meds kick in, you can't help but slowly drift off to sleep as well.

Okay, I'm having WAYYYYYY too much fun writing these I'm sorry 😭

I finished majority of my finals so I'm going to be much more active again so keep sending in requests! I'm continuing to work on them

Also, I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the compliments and praise I've received on my last post with Stiles, it was literally so sweet of you guys. My inbox was literally filled with people praising my writing and y'all have no idea how happy that made me, like literally my heart almost burst.

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some angst, beautiful beautiful angst :) and comfort obvi (if i make a p2), oh and not proof read lol

Part 2

The quiet hum of the night settled around the House of Wind, the moonlight casting silver shadows across the balcony. It had been a long, grueling day, as Cassian was relentless in your Valkyrie training.

You gently pealed off your grimy leathers and sighed, feeling relieved. The House started the bath, and you almost moaned at the thought of rinsing all the dried sweat and dirt off you. The water was warm, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the air as you sank into the bath. Your muscles, sore from the day’s exertions, slowly relaxed under the soothing heat, the steam rising around you like a soft mist. Azriel was the one to advise on using lavender oil for sore muscles, and in that moment you couldn't be more thankful.

After the bath, you slipped on one of Azriel's old shirts that you stole and climbed under the mountain of covers and stuffed animals on your bed, each a special gift that you collected from your dearest friends and family.

Sleep didn't find you that night, and the moon was high in the sky when you gave up on trying. Soft moonlight shined through your cracked window curtains, casting a glow within the shadows of your room.

You padded out into the hallway, intent on making a cup of tea in the kitchen that would hopefully make you drowsy enough to get a few hours of shut eye before Cassian banged on your door for morning training.

As your tea steeped, you looked out the window at the stars that danced across the sky, feeling completely at peace. You got up and wandered to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. As you stepped out, the night air wrapped around you like a cool embrace, the faintest trace of something sweet carried on the wind. You leaned against the stone railing, feeling the rough texture under your palms, and let your gaze drift upward. The sky stretched out in front of you, vast and endless, a tapestry of stars glittering like diamonds on a velvet cloth. It was like the universe was holding its breath, every star hanging in perfect stillness.

A soft rustling of wings broke the stillness, as Azriel landed beside you.

"You're up late," he joked softly.

"I could same the same about you," you reply.

He gave a rare soft laugh, a welcome sound that filled your belly with warmth and automatically brought a smile to your face. "I suppose we’re both too stubborn to sleep."

He smirked, his lips quirking at the corners. "That’s one way of putting it."

You grimaced. "Bad dreams again?"

He looked down over the balcony, "You know, I think Cassian is mixing up the training lesson tomorrow; we're going to work on group fighting, which I think will be hel..."

"Azriel." You cut him off quietly but firmly. "I asked you a question."

He sighed, paused, then almost imperceptibly nodded.

Your heart broke as he turned his head away from you, and you couldn't help but immediately pull him into your arms, locking your hands around his neck. His hands snaked around your waist automatically, and you couldn't help but notice that you wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of your life. His head tucked into your neck, softly breathing in your scent.

His deep voice was muffled as he whispered. "I should be over them right now, right? How do they still keep coming back?"

Your heart broke all over again.

You regretfully pulled away, and grasped the sides of his head so he focused on you. "Listen to me very carefully Az. You. Are. Not. Weak. You have been through unimaginable things, trauma that any lesser male would have crumbled from. I look at you every day, and I could not be prouder of who you are."

He didn't respond right away, his breath shallow, shadows curling around his feet and snaking up your wrists. His eyes glistened, the faintest sheen of moisture gathering at the rims, as if a single, fragile breath could break the dam holding them back. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze deepened as the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if the very weight of their emotions was too much to contain.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the world seemed to shift in an instant. Your heart raced, your senses flared, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by an unrelenting sense of love and protection. The golden bond stretched between you, and Azriel's eyes softened, a quiet hope brightening the hazel you loved to look at. It was raw—too much, too sudden—and it left you breathless for a moment, scrambling to make sense of it.

Before you could even think, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No."

As soon as the light had come, it left Azriel's eyes, winking out from existence as he pulled away from your embrace as if burned.

Your heart shattered as pain lanced through your chest, realizing what you had done. Your mind raced, trying to undo what you’d said as you fumbled to find your words.

The weight of what you said hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and you could see it in his eyes—how they flickered with confusion, hurt, and something deeper, something far more vulnerable. You had never wanted to cause him pain, never meant for those words to slip out the way they did. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The words felt stuck, trapped somewhere deep inside of you.

He stood there, silent, his expression a careful mask, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. It cut deeper than anything you'd ever felt before. He looked as if the ground had just been ripped out from under him, as though something inside him had been shattered—by you.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You could feel him pulling away, the space between you growing wider with every passing second.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the words trembled on your lips. You stepped forward, but he took a slow step back, his jaw clenched tight. There was a distance in his gaze now, an emotional wall rising between you that had never been there before.

His eyes were distant, his usually calm demeanor now laced with an edge of something darker. You had never seen him like this. Never this vulnerable. Never this raw.

"I didn’t mean it," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. The thoughts of the damage you had done washed over you in waves, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. "I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just—"

He held up a hand, stopping you, his gaze flickering down as he took a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, as if each word was being dragged from him. "No. I...I need to leave. Now."

His wings flared up getting ready to take off, away from you, away from your desperate attempts to explain. You reached a hand out, in an effort to keep him with you, but he backed away, eyes displaying the agony you felt mirrored in your soul.

As his wingbeats fell away, your chest constricted. You could feel the newly forged bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond you had waited for for centuries that you already fucked up, stretch and start to fray at the edges. You grasped your chest, trying to dig your hands in to physically hold the bond tight and never let go. The first tears finally broke free, and the dam shattered as you sunk to the ground, breaking into pieces, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way it hurt—how it felt like you were losing him.

You desperately drew in breath, trying to get your breathing under control in vain. As your exhales and crying finally quieted, a numbness took over your body. Your breathe was the only noise around, the wind dead and birds silent, and you realized how alone you were. Your best friend, who had been with you through everything, was gone, and he hated you. Your beautiful, kind, loving, selfless mate who deserved so much more than you, was gone, and he'd likely never want to see you again.

[seneon]

ALWAYS BEEN YOU ──── racer¡kaiser × fem racer¡reader.

about. you have always been the only woman famous racer michael kaiser has his eyes on. suggestive. romance. kaiser is kinda ooc. wc of 700+

notes. written for @kaiser1ns my fav freak, in celebration of kaiser FINALLY animated. gosh he's so majestic ...

silence hung in the air, the only sounds echoing to the corners of the ceiling are steady breathing and the fading sounds of the cars beneath the city.

this clearly isn’t supposed to happen. you’re in a world-class racer’s luxurious penthouse, his expensive velvet blanket clinging to the curves of your body which rise and fall with each slow and even breath.

michael kaiser's lips brushed against the skin of your neck, all so playful and teasing that it bears hundreds of eerie spiders to crawl down your spine.

“shouldn’t you hate me?” kaiser asked in a soft whisper, his lips still pressing against your skin as his eyes flickered to your face. “i’m an official racer, and you’re a street racer.”

your eyes glued to the windows. they were so large you swore the city below could get a cinematic view of the heated moment you and kaiser spent together just a few moments ago. his fingers moved to trace along your arm in sweet caresses that you forgot you even carry a speck of hatred for the man whose name ran down your tongue like a repeated prayer.

neither of you knew what twisted fate this is, for him to stop seeing you as another of those measly, rebellious and illegal racers which he despised and loved crushing to the ends of the earth. kaiser’s eyes still gazed over your facial features before they averted to your neck, pressing one last soft and rather chaste kiss.

his fingers are on your neck now, tracing over the love bites he had left. you are like his canvas as he draws on them, leaving his artwork all over. his touch is so gentle in a motion so slow and reverent.

it was almost as if he was trying to imprint his bites onto his own fingers, a sense of pride in his tainted heart when he knew you'd be the one walking around in daylight with all these marks. a special mark only michael kaiser could commit to the best street racer in the underground racing community.

“do you hate me?” the german man asked again, forming a different sentence compared to his first ones, words holding such a different weight to them that it makes you glance at him, eyes locking onto his piercing azure ones.

truth to be told, he wouldn’t want to listen to whatever that is about to slip down the tip of your tongue. for some reason he despises your answer already. it didn’t sound good to his pride and his soul, for he fear it might be a speckled with paint to taint more of him.

when he sees that you shook your head, a little smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. it seems his pride wouldn’t be torn away tonight after all.

“and here i thought you hated me,” he softly said, voice holding an unspoken tone before he shifted closer to you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you close to him. “it’s hot when you hate me, y’know? the look you gave me when i’m inside you. could almost kill.”

you let him hold you close. you allowed because you’ve grown to appreciate his warm touch, his body that envelopes you like a fuzzy little bridal veil that keeps you safe and content. it was almost like the verse where they say you are drawn to one like a moth to a flame.

kaiser presses one soft kiss on your shoulders. then many more around your neck area.

“i don’t hate you, michael. sure, you’re a cocky racer and you look down on street racers, but i can tell you deep down respect them and their independence. and as for me…”

“i fucking love you,” the man finishes for you, his hands trailing up to your chest to rest his palm against your breast, giving it one light squeeze. “it’s always been you who’s cracking my view on street racers. if anything, you’re my favourite street racer, schatz.”

a smile crept up your cheeks at his words. kaiser has a way with his words, even if they were normal phrases spoken to others. he coats his words with a fine layer of honey, but whenever he’s with you, it’s nothing but pure, sweet poison that you’re willingly absorbing.

“i love you too,” you softly said, feeling his lips curled into a smile against your skin as well before he pressed his bare chest against your back.

“now that’s better than hate,” murmured the emperor of the road before he nuzzles his face into your neck and both your souls fell into a tranquil slumber.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny, just got broken up with so anything to fix a broken heart would be amazing but highly need Lando Norris to be the situation.

Maybe best friends to lovers, kinky kinky good shit

heartbreak heaven

lando norris

tags: smut & fluff, friends-to-lovers, jealousy, sweet talk, break ups

a/n: i'm so sorry about that anon! break-ups are always the hardest, but i promise it does get a lot better! i hope you love this fic and maybe it soothes some of the ache from the heartbreak! i gave it a mix of romantic, fluffy, smutty goodness! - word of advice: chocolate is a great medicine for a heartbreak!

"that's crazy! i can't believe he did that." lando said as he leaned over and grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table, "we should kill him."

you looked at him, unamused as you took the tissue from him, "not funny, lando." you remarked as you wiped your eyes, "i can't believe he did that. he just up and left, he said that he could do it anymore. do what? am i that bad of a catch?" you huffed as you balled up the tissue, "stupid prick."

"ah well, his loss." he remarked. he was comfortable next to you on the couch with his arm draped over the back of it, "you'll get 'em next time, tiger."

you leaned up against him and exhaled deeply, "thanks, lando. nice to have a friend like you." then let out a small chuckle.

lando let you lay up against him and threw an arm around you. he sighed, "yeah... friend."

you had known lando for a while, since the karting days. your older brother was a racer, and while he didn't make it pro, you still remained closed to lando. you two were the same age and it was a a simple friendship. except lando didn't see it that way, when he was younger he never thought about happily ever afters and marriage. but, when you were around, even when you cheered on your brother, lando thought about you being mrs. norris. but time wasn't kind to him and after what felt like a dozen boyfriends, you were once again in lando's arms with tears in your eyes.

"you can do better." he said lowly, "so much better, you have no idea." he leaned in a little closer, his arm snaked around you, "how about someone who knows what the hell they're doing. to make you feel special, to please you."

"like oscar?" you asked a little oblivious.

lando sighed before he looked you in the eyes, "no... like me." before he captured your lips in his and wrapped both arms around you shoulders.

when he pulled away, he looked at you once more. and you stared back at him with shocker, "what!?" you asked and he felt heat in his cheeks.

"i can explain-"

you pulled him in for a tight kiss once more before you held onto his shoulders tightly. you felt the excitement through both of your bodies, he pressed his forehead up against yours with his eyes closed before he asked, "bedroom?"

lando know the layout of your flat like the back of his hand. he took you by the hand and led you towards your bedroom. he flicked on the lights and you led him further into your domain. the white rug, the string lights, the soft bed with the stuffed animals on it, which included a stuffed dog that he picked up for you while overseas.

"you look good you know, even with all your runny make up." he joked, "in order to really love a girl you gotta see her in her most comfortable." it didn't help that you were in sleeping shorts and a mclaren t-shirt (another gift from lando). and then started to get his t-shirt off. you did the same to your own shirt, lando eyed the shape of your body under the t-shirt.

you looked away for a moment and asked, "does it look bad?"

lando shook his head, "oh, no way. you look.... beautiful. what the fuck were these guys thinking? obviously a waste of a beautiful woman." his hands went to the belt on his black jeans, "i have a theory, that when a guy sees a woman as beautiful as you. they get intimidated. scared little boys." he chuckled.

"because you were always scared to ask me out?"

lando nodded, "yeah, but... i can't help myself anymore. if i see you with one more guy, i'm going to crash my car into them... i want you." he practically fell to his knees in front of you while you sat on the bed. he placed a large hand on your thigh, "i can't take it anymore, i want you. i need you. i want to be with you."

you took him by the face and gazed into his beautiful eyes. you ran your thumb across his bottom lip and nodded, "then after this.. you show me all the other ways a proper man should treat a woman."

lando took you by the hand and pushed your wrist up against his face, he exhaled deeply and said, "of course... every way i can."

you both were soon up by the pillows, lando's large hands on you as he held onto your shoulders to kiss you. the kiss was heavy, near bruising on your lips. the bed shifted under the both of you as you stripped of your clothes. you were left bare for lando as he felt up your skin.

he took in the sight of you, enough distance to admire your face and body, you looked heavenly, like a divine being. laid out on the soft covers of your bed. the male species must be a bunch of goddamn idiots. he laid you out on the bed, he admired your beauty as he felt you up. he swallowed and said, "beautiful, you know that right? beauty beyond words." then laughed a little as he captured your lips with his once more.

"please, lando." you reached over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, "no ifs, ands, or buts." and lando took it happily. it was quite erotic seeing lando put on a condom. it arose something in you, you couldn't quite put into words. and then when he was back between your legs once more. you smiled up at him and said, "you look good with one on."

"better safe than sorry." he remarked, "now, relax... i've been waiting for this for a long, long time." his childhood friend, his first crush, was now under him on her bed all spread out and perfect for him. one hand on his cock and another on your hip, he slowly sank into you and felt a shudder through his body. it felt hot, very hot.

"how does it feel?" you asked, for a moment you were self conscious. you knew that lando could have any woman he wanted, there were tons of grid bunnies, models and beyond who would die for a piece of lando. it made you feel a little self conscious in yourself.

"how does it feel? it feels amazing, fuck. you feel as good as you look. holy shit." he chuckled softly, "you have no idea what you do to me. all the times i thought about you. yearned for you. the longest crush i've ever had." he said as he held your hips and continued to move against you.

"no need to flatter me, lando. you already have me." then yelped when lando hiked your hips up a little bit.

lando chuckled as he moved against you faster, "i love when you say that, how that sounds on your tongue. your sweet voice telling me that i have you. but call me greedy, beautiful, because i want all of you." his pace quickened and he leaned in further towards you.

"fuck, lando." you groaned. you wondered where he learned those words. you felt the shudder through you as the pleasure continued to course through you, the patter of your heart grew as he continued to love you.

"that's it, angel. that's it." he groaned as he rutted against you, "jesus christ, you're beautiful. you have no idea what you do to me. fuck, i could name all the times i saw you and my jaw dropped."

"flirt." you moaned.

"only for you, angel." he said as he continued to move, his pace was rather feverish the more he needed you. you held onto his shoulders and he loved the feeling of your nails in his tanned shoulders. it only made him yearn for you more as he rutted against you. he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the pleasure cloud his thoughts.

it was hard to think of much else when he was buried in his sweet cunt. your cunt made him wild as he moved. he wanted more, no, he needed more. more of you, more of his first and only crush. no matter how many trophies he won, to have you in his arms was worth more than that.

he kissed you once more, and you held his face. you tried to meet his pace as his cock worked inside of you. it was hot between you two, you could feel the heat at your temples as you kept your legs up to keep him fucking you.

you tensed up at the feeling, at his words. when he pulled away from the kiss, you two gazed at one another. you didn't think that you'd ever be with lando, but there he was. he gazed at you with a heated want as the two of you continued to move against one another. it felt electric, hot in a way that made your core swirl.

he was erotic, painfully hot. you felt the pleasure grow in your body. it was something else, a totally different feeling. you groaned, "fucking hell, lando."

lando beamed down at you and continued to fuck you. the kisses continued soon after and he felt the fire in his gut from the want from you. you were beyond perfect, he knew that. the way your pussy took him left him hungry for more.

"you're amazing." he said lowly, "so perfect."

"not as perfect as you." you said as you kissed him on the cheek, your hands in his hair as the two of you fucked against one another with a heated passion. the fire between the both of you as you two rutted against one another.

the pleasure only bloomed in your gut as he moved against you and you moved against him. you moved together in a sort of harmony. a perfect pace of one another as the pleasure moved through both of you. it felt like heaven and it made your toes curl at the feeling.

it didn't take much longer before you held onto him and came around his cock. your cutn clenched around his cock and he rutted against you further. the two of you moved against one another heavily. the pleasure only crashed over you, and then soon after it crashed over him and he came inside of the condom. he groaned into your shoulder as he finished. you held onto him closely and the two of you continued to move against one another.

he groaned against your skin and felt the fire in his soul. it felt amazing, and as he slowed to a stop. he admired you. he saw the expression on your face and your features, the same features he loved growing up. the two of you kissed one another before lando laid in bed beside of you. he held your face when he kissed you again.

you giggled against him then pulled away. you two looked at one another and you wrapped an arm around him. you asked, "how was that?"

"oh perfect." he chuckled as he held your face, "beyond perfect." he looked at you closely and felt a sense of relief in his body. he kissed you once more then said, "i want you for the rest of my life."

and who were you say no? <3

[delirious-donna]

tw: female reader, suggestive, yearning, reader is adored, could be considered somno but reader wakes up before anything starts, implied pussy eating, he just loves you so so much

The bed was pleasantly warm, so comforting against your spine. Soft sheets cradled your form as if trying to lull you into slumber, whilst the book you held slipped between your fingers as tiredness pressed against your eyes.

The spotlight from the bedside lamp painted the most magical shadows against the wall, the conjurations seeming to dance from the gentle fairy lights that twinkled around the room's edges. It was like a fairytale landscape but you fought the sleep that tried to tease you into surrender as if it were a dragon to be slain.

You waited, not sure how much longer it would be before you could be reunited with your lover. It felt too empty in here without him, his presence such a welcome and soothing one that you missed it all the more when he was gone.

Thoughts of the man you loved were the last ones you could recall before sleep pressed you deep into the mattress.

You were so cute, sweeter than the sugary candies he sometimes indulged in, and he was dying for a taste.

The sight of you prone on your squishy bed, chest rising and falling gently whilst you slumbered was just what he needed after the tediousness of the day. The veil of fatigue lifted enough to know that he wouldn’t be ready for sleep until he had you in his arms, his lips on every inch of your glowing sleep-soaked skin.

He padded silently towards the bed and knelt carefully so as not to disturb his sleeping angel.

For a long moment he admired your adorable pyjamas with the white fluffy bunny print–his personal favourites–with a lazy smile curling his lips at how the shorts bunched around your plush thighs. It was like he could already feel your softness beneath his touch, and he swiped his tongue across his teeth at the thought.

Slowly, like a stealthy animal, he crawled towards you. He watched through hooded eyes as he kissed up your smooth calf, enjoying the slight squirm of your hips when he reached the inside of your knee.

You smelled of your favourite body wash and he inhaled deeply until only you filled his head. He palmed you through the thin barrier of your pyjama shorts, instantly feeling your warmth and wishing to nuzzle against you.

It strained his dick to almost pain. The restraint of his pants uncomfortably tight, length throbbing with the close proximity to your pretty little pussy. His pretty little pussy… fuck.

Carnal thoughts of tasting your unique essence on his tongue, your thighs pressing against his ears and the hands that would switch between caressing and tugging on his hair, filled his mind. It made him crazy with need for you, and only you.

Deft fingers curled around the flimsy waistband, tugging the shorts down your legs until they flew into an unknown corner of the darkened room. Groans of you waking roused him enough to stare into that sleepy face that made him want to present you with his heart on a gilded platter.

“Baby?”

“Mhm, it’s me. I missed you,” he assured whilst his fingers tangled with your own, shifting your hands into the messy strands of his hair before pulling away to trace the glistening pussy lips that he was desperate to taste.

You blinked rapidly at familiar eyes glazed with desire, and it was enough to twist your stomach into knots. The swell of emotions that he evoked in you was so powerful that you could sense the slick building with every second that passed.

His lips were feverish, a contradiction to the usual cool sweep of his mouth, as they pressed against your skin. His dexterous hand snaked between your thighs only for you to press them tightly together in a mixture of embarrassment and seeking out that much-needed friction.

You let out a whimper as he sucked bruises of possession into your flesh, almost crying out aloud in simple ecstasy when he spoke once more.

“Now spread your legs and try to tell me about your day.”

Kuroo, Bokuto, Daichi, Suna, Osamu, Kakashi*, Obito, Kiba, Nanami, Gojo, Choso, Erwin, Levi, Reiner, Kunikida, Fuzukawa, Chuuya, Aizawa, Keigo, Sebastian, Hanma, Zhongli, Wriothesley, Kaeya + your fave that fits the story!

*I’m including Kakashi even though he doesn’t like sweets!

[betterthanyalls]

hi!

can i request for a hermes x gn!reader x odysseus? :)

i was thinking that maybe reader is already a friend of odysseus, like a childhood friend maybe or a neighbor/citizen of his kingdom and has known him for years

reader liked ody but ody already has penelope so they arent flirting anymore but when hermes shows up and starts taking readers attention for himself that's when ody starts to get a little jealous maybe? aaa sorry it has been a while since ive requested anything - i hope its not too specific ;v;

i just thought it would be fun to see witty banter battles and playful snark ^^"

I have spent my entire day throughout school and home to work on this so i am very sorry for any mistakes or if its bad, i was speed running before i eepy, also i tried to make reader x odysseus more platonic cus he got penelope yk? ALSO NGL THIS WAS VERY FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEH

Masterlist

Divine Intervention

Hermes x GN!Reader x Odysseus [p]

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Fluff

Words: 2.1K

Published: 11-5-2024

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

A gentle puff of air blew through the vacant meadow, flowers brushing each other in a picturesque view. Within the center of the field, two souls lied together, laughing and gazing at the clouds with imagination. 

“That one reminds me of Argos,” Odysseus pointed up to a running puff of white above that loosely resembled said dog. “Oh, I see it!” Penelope grinned, her smile shining brighter than Helios. A short distance away, under the shade of a tree, sat the best friend of the couple. With their backs against the tree, Y/n watched on emotionlessly. Their mind felt blank; witnessing the source of their love showing admiration to somebody else delivered a new type of pain to their chest. Y/n felt lost. Would they never be the first choice? Odysseus had known them for the entirety of both their lives, but the moment he met Penelope, he forgot all about Y/n. He was head over heels, claiming he’d marry the princess before he turned twenty. Sure, they stayed friends, but that wasn’t enough for Y/n though they’d never admit it. Y/n couldn’t even blame Odysseus. Penelope looked like a goddess sent from Olympus. Anyone could mistake her for a divine being. 

With a silent sigh, Y/n prepared to push themself to their feet and take their leave. But a new presence stopped them from rising up. Looking to their left side, Y/n saw another figure sitting beside them. “Wow, really the third wheel, huh?” A cheery voice sounded from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Y/n asked, like any sane person would. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Your friend Ody would if you asked him,” the individual turned to face Y/n, giving them a good view of his identity. A metal helmet sat atop his head, adorned by smaller, brown, speckled wings. A mischievous grin was placed on his lips, with the rest of his face remaining covered by a shadow. Y/n leaned back slightly so the sun could pierce the shade better, revealing more of the man. A chiton made of the finest silk hung loosely from his shoulders, stopping at his knees. The male sat casually criss-crossed, his back propped against the same tree. A scepter sat on the ground beside him, holding two golden snakes and two glistening wings, power radiating off the item. Another point of interest for Y/n’s eyes were the sandals on his feet. Not in a footfetish type of interest, but intrigue with the fact wings fluttered like no big deal off the heels. Just as Y/n was going to breathe out his name, the guest spoke first. “Indeed, it is I, Hermes. God of messengers, travelers, luck, gambling, borders, animal husbandry, thieves, wit, speed, language, trades, commerce, athletes, merchants-”

The god continued rambling proudly about each of his domains as Y/n’s awe slowly fell into a deadpan. “I know you,” they cut off his boasting, not truly caring if it was rude. Thankfully, instead of being offended, the god merely grinned. “So, Y/n, what are you doing out here? Away from the party?” Hermes had a teasing tone in his voice, gesturing to the two lovers ahead of them. Odysseus and Penelope had no knowledge of a god offering company to their closest friend. Y/n wanted to ask how he knew their name, but they figured it was some divine power thing.

“Ody wanted to spend time with Penelope, but he was too nervous to come alone. So he dragged me along. But I don’t want to intrude on their moment together,” Y/n shrugged, looking at their friends.

The mischief god watched the mortal for a moment before a plan formed in his mind. “Well, I can’t let such a beautiful soul be alone, now can I?” Y/n turned to face Hermes, an amused yet confused smile on their lips. “I’m sorry?” They inquired, not sure if they understood his words correctly. In response, Hermes stood up and held his hand out to help the mortal up too. “If they have their moment together, then allow me to give you a moment for us.” The god had a gentle smile, keeping his hand out for them to grab. Raising an eyebrow, Y/n hesitantly took his offer and grabbed his hand. He pulled them up to stand beside him.

“So, where are we going?” Y/n asked, looking into the forest behind them. Hermes just laughed in excitement.

“You’ll see!”

And before Y/n could utter another word, the god pulled them close and took off racing through the trees. The world whipped past them at lightning speed. Trees, rocks, roads, towns—everything went by in a flash until suddenly it all paused.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped away from the god. Their legs felt like brittle wood, threatening to give out at a simple breeze. Once they caught their breath, the mortal looked around to see them in the center stands of the nearby sports. Athletes were in the midst of competition down below, and nobody seemed to question two people just appearing. Hermes sat down on a stone slab and patted for Y/n to sit beside him. Doing so, the god offered them some grapes he may or may not have stolen from other mortals. “Did you choose this event just because you’re the god of athletes?” Y/n questioned  with a small laugh, taking a grape to eat and watching the sports continue. Hermes responded with his own laugh, beaming at the person beside him. “Would you leave if I said yes?” Y/n pretended to think for a moment before turning to face him with a hum. “No, but you better make this worth it,” they chuckled playfully, popping another grape to their mouth. ~~~~~ Hermes did truly make it worth it. So worth it that the two began going on adventures every day. From splashing around in rivers to exploring dark caves, the mortal and god’s friendship grew each day.

Anytime Y/n questioned themself in a mirror, Hermes would somehow maifest behind them to compliment their looks before going back to whatever job he had that day. “Dahling, you look gorgeous—beyond stunning, truly.” Was heard more than once

They would even find gifts sometimes, usually always stolen, waiting in their bedroom.

~~~~~

Currently, Y/n and the king of Ithaca were sitting in his bedroom, just talking like old friends. “So, you’ve been disappearing randomly only to come back in one state or another. Not to mention, you’ve been much more upbeat lately. What’s going on?” Odysseus interrogated with a grin. Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. Could they tell their lifelong friend about the new soul in their life? Odysseus had a raised brow, waiting for a response. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” He offered with a calmer smile. Y/n’s expression softened, and they sighed, deciding to speak the truth. "I met someone,” they began, trying to form the correct words. Something in Odysseus’ eyes changed at this revelation. His posture stiffened just for a moment before returning to his previously relaxed state. “And who may this 'someone’ be?” The king continued, trying to get as much information as possible. With a quiet whisper, Y/n confessed. “Hermes...” Their lips held a bashful smile as they looked away from their friends' eyes. The friend in question paused, blinking slowly to process the information. “Hermes?! The god?!” He exclaimed with an open jaw. Y/n quickly shushed him, shoving their hands in his face. “Sh sh sh! Shut up! Not so loud,” they hissed, taking their hands away carefully once Odysseus nodded in agreement. “You know Hermes?” He continued to quiz. “Don’t you?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the first conversation with the god. Hermes said that Odysseus would know who he was.

“Well, yeah, I do. But I didn’t think you would too,” he tried to reason, although his point fell flat. “You don’t think a lot,” they retorted. Before Odysseus could try to fire back, a sudden breeze blew in from the open balcony. Looking over, a certain god stood against the stone railing with a familiar grin. “If it isn’t my two favorite mortals! If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say I was the center of this discussion,” Hermes laughed, waltzing into the room. He ruffled Odysseus’ hair playfully before taking a stand next to Y/n.

“Hermes.” Odysseus brought a hand up to fix his hair. The god just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Y/n’s shoulder to give them a side hug. The narrowing eyes of the soldier didn’t go unnoticed by Hermes, brightening his smile.

“Hey Hermes,” Y/n greeted warmly.

Odysseus didn’t enjoy seeing his best friend so cozied up with another person. Even if that other person was a god who saved his life multiple times and also his great-grandfather. An idea began forming in his mind to get rid of the situation. “Y/n, I think I remember seeing a show taking place in the city. You and I can go see it now before it finishes,” the king offered, casting a victorious grin to Hermes as Y/n gave their own smile. “That sounds cool! Yeah, we can go!” Y/n moved away from Hermes' hug as the two mortals took their leave. Once they left, Hermes frowned and took his own leave back to his previous tasks for Olympus. ~~~~~ It didn’t take long for a secret war to begin. Every moment, Y/n was in between two opposing sides. They were either with Odysseus one day and Hermes the next, or they were sitting in between both males who kept trying to one-up each other, which would eventually end in arguments.

“I mean honestly, darling, why spend your time with such a brute when you could have someone as divine as I?” “BRUTE?!”

“Really, Y/n, he’s the god of lies. If anything, his words mean nothing compared to mine.” “Your entire reputation is a lie.” “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Y/n—” “Oh, please. That’s more of a stress than a privilege.” “Did you hear something, dahling? Why, I can’t seem to hear anything below FIVE FEET.” “OH HOW MATURE—” “IT IS!!”

This took place almost daily, and it acted as peak entertainment for Y/n. ~~~~~ Today, unlike any other, Y/n and Odysseus sat quietly in a familiar meadow. However, the king was being unnaturally quiet. Turning to face their friend, Y/n spoke up.

“Ody, are you alright?” Concern was clear in their voice as they waited patiently. Odysseus didn’t make any notice of hearing their words for a minute before he finally answered.

“You’re replacing me.”

Those words caught Y/n off guard. Odysseus was looking at the grassy field around them rather than meeting his companions eyes.

“What? No, I’m not. What makes you say that?” They furrowed their eyebrows in worry, anxious for his reasoning.

“You spend more time with him,” he hissed, speaking of the god like venom on his tongue.

“Well, maybe, but-”

“BUT NOTHING! I’m supposed to be your best friend! Me! Not him. It’s us against the world; we agreed on that years ago.” Odysseus turned to Y/n with a deep frown, his eyes showing unease. He had been betrayed time and time again before; he couldn’t risk losing another friend.

Y/n stayed silent, stunned by his sudden outburst. Odysseus just looked back to the meadow, shame filling his soul. After a few moments, Y/n regained their bearings as sympathy and guilt covered their features.

“Ody,” they called softly, but he continued to look away. "Ody, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked over to his friend.

“Ody, I could never replace you. You are woven into my soul like a grapevine. Why do you think I would break our pact?” They spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Odysseus sighed, looking back to the ground. He felt so stupid for assuming they would hurt him too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gently, looking at them out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright; I would do the same if I were you. I forgive you,” Y/n smiled warmly to him, earning a hesitant smile back from him.

~~~~~

After this whole incident, Odysseus stopped arguing so much with Hermes. Sure, the mortal still gave the god a few half-hearted glares, but they eventually learned to share Y/n’s attention.

The trio sat calmly on the balcony of Odysseus’ room, waiting for Penelope to arrive for a nightly get-together. The sun sank slowly below the horizon, offering a charming glow to the city.

“So, darling, how’d you manage to get such a feral man to calm down?”

“FERAL?!”

[nereidprinc3ss]

Ok but I think you hit on something in “in the dead of night” about how Spencer leans into his mammalian instincts. Imagine him angry and tense after a rough day and needing that and then talking you through the motions of it and why it makes him feel better because of the science and chemicals behind it all

i absolutely love this!! thank you for requesting:)

also experimenting with a new short and sweet format for blurbs/request! feedback is always appreciated<3

wc 800

warnings: fem!reader, very suggestive, d/s dynamics

“I don’t—Spencer—”

Something in your mouth keeps you from finishing the sentence. Namely: your boyfriend’s tongue. You gasp into him as he tugs your jacket off, arching your back against the wall he’s pressed you to so that the fabric can hit the ground with a thick thud.

“Spence, please,” you manage, barely, as his hand cups your jaw and his thumb presses under your chin, encouraging you to angle your head up and make room for his lips. It’s not that you don’t want this—you told him he could be rough with you and you meant it—but you’re slightly overwhelmed by this uncharacteristic display of nearing aggressive passion.

“What, baby?” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while his hands snake under your shirt. Focused on the feeling of his hand pressed against your waist, you allow your eyes to flutter shut.

“You’re acting… different.”

A pause—his head drops against your shoulder as he reigns himself in.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—you don’t need to stop, I just… it might make me feel better if I knew what this was about.”

He sucks in a breath.

“You want to hear about my day?”

The way his fingers trail downward over your skin is so gentle it feels almost dangerous.

“… Yeah.” But you don’t at all sound sure of yourself. A hum from him seems to rattle your skull as he drags his lips up your neck and over your jaw, kissing you with a softness that is almost certainly deceptive.

“You know what, angel? I don’t actually really feel like talking about that right now. Does that tell you—” he bites your lip, and it doesn’t really hurt, but you whine anyway, “what kind of day I had?”

No words are forming for you anymore, so you make do with an airy “mhm.”

The first button at the bottom of your shirt is undone before you even realize he was unbuttoning it.

“Have you ever heard of the ventrolateral ventromedial hypothalamus?” Spencer murmurs, undoing the buttons on your shirt with a practiced expertise that is hard to keep up with—especially when he keeps teasing your lips with his like this. It doesn’t even matter if you’ve heard of that or not; all the information you’ve ever retained is gone from the stores of your brain. If it doesn’t have anything to do with Spencer, it feels deeply unimportant. You shake your head no. “The hypothalamus does a lot. It regulates our appetites, our body temperatures, hormones…”

Why is this so sexy.

“It also has a lot to do with how we express our emotions. And that tiny part of the hypothalamus—the one I just mentioned—it’s where we process two really big feelings.” He undoes the last button, gently pushing your open shirt from your shoulders. “Anger.” Hands creep around your hips, blindly unzipping your skirt. “And arousal.”

Oh!

“In a disregulated brain, that can be a dangerous combination. But,” he tugs the straps of your bra down, “if you understand it, you can use it to your advantage.”

Your breath is bated as you do the work of kicking off your shoes, and he unclasps your bra.

“The human brain is fallible in so many ways. At the end of the day, we’re delicate, and vulnerable, and convoluted—but we’re also pretty simple creatures, motivated by a few basic instincts. Anger and sex are intrinsic to who we are as animals. For most of history, they’ve defined us. And they’re so closely related. Do you follow?”

Your response comes as a gasp when you realize you haven’t been breathing for a long moment now.

“Yes.” Does it matter if you understand? You just want him to touch you.

“Good.” His lowered voice gets even quieter as he continues, brushing hair behind your ear carefully. “You know I would never, ever hurt you, right?”

“I know.”

You don’t remember how all your clothes ended up on the kitchen floor, but they’re certainly not on you anymore as he presses flush against your bare skin.

“I will always take care of you and keep you safe. That being said—sometimes the best thing you can do when you’re having a really big feeling is to follow that basic animal instinct. It’s why sprinting can help when you’re having a panic attack. Your body is in fight or flight and it will relax if you follow the instinct to run.”

Spencer’s fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear.

“I’ve been having some of those really big feelings today. Do you know what’s going to make me feel better?”

You whimper. Fabric slips past your hips and falls to the ground as Spencer begins closing the small distance between your mouths—but not before uttering a word that has your heart racing.

“You.”

[0luv9]

forlorn || mattheo riddle

Summary: based on this request.

Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.

Words: 7.8k (not beta read)

Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music

Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.

There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."

Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?

'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'

Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.

Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.

Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.

He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.

"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.

"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.

He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."

Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.

Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.

There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.

You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.

He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.

But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?

He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?

Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.

Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.

He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.

Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.

Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.

"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.

"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."

"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.

"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.

It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.

"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.

And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."

You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.

"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.

You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.

Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.

He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.

...

He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.

Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.

He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.

Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.

...

Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.

The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.

Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.

But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.

...

Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.

It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-

No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.

But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.

It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."

Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.

Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.

You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.

It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.

"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.

You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.

"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."

"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."

You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.

"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.

You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud. 

You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that? 

Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand. 

Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in. 

He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless. 

He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile- 

...

The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone. 

Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone. 

He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special- 

...

Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think- 

Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling. 

The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed. 

It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.

But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. 

Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath. 

Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it. 

...

Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.

He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less. 

Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself. 

Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good."  He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming. 

Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you. 

He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to do this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?" 

"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.

...

<<prev work: this love || mattheo riddle

[elodieunderglass]

I hope your evening is better than your day was. ✨💫

In reference to me haggardly saying in the tags that after the day I’d had, everything (horrible things with legs) that my loved ones (you guys) were doing to heal me (send me horrible things with legs) was a help. And it was. And you are.

It was a tough old month already. But it’s all swings-and-roundabouts, snakes-and-ladders, win-some-lose-some, 🫴🫳.

I sleep about 9 hours in 48 at the moment, which is not especially great, owing to the Wretchedness of Mouse (2), a largely nocturnal animal. But then when Mouse is awake at Mouse o’Clock and quietly pottering around on Mouse Business, there isn’t much I can usefully do, so I’m just curled up with Dr Glass’s tablet, peacefully drawing Killie the jockey OC. As a result I’ve realised something massive for me, that my creativity is THERE, but fuelled by self-indulgence! Like, with stuff like fanfic projects and Killie, there was always a lot of “mental braking” on before, with me anticipating (based on evidence experience of posting my writing online for mumblety-many years) how much people would dislike it - put the brakes on, Elodie, we can’t let the haters know that we yearn. But hey, I started rambling on about fics and my own OCs, and YES it’s probably startling and annoying for some people and I do apologise, but ALSO you’ve all been very kind, and I think that it’s better for me to have the brakes off. 4 am takes notwithstanding, it’s better to have the brakes off. So what if I’m cringe and occasionally annoying - I have paid my dues and done my duties.

The new shed at the allotment blew down, but we have been forgiven for our carelessness in allowing it to happen, and two people on the committee have approached me with kindness - one committee member even stopping me in a shop to tell me, “people want to help you, Elodie, we’re your friends, you know.” Citation needed, but there you go.

Saturdays are always made especially for me dreadful by taking children to swimming lessons, on foot both ways, but usually we walk on to meet friends for coffee after. I go out with my friends and play board games with our neighbours and have learned how to play Wingspan.

Dr Glass received an official diagnosis of ME, but I bought a robot vacuum in the strength of that - saying, well, why assume things will ever get easier? Let’s get easy now! - and actually I really like having a robot vacuum!!

There have been more causes than I could help with, but my promotion has strengthened the coffers, so this month I’ve been able to donate to a few!

Due to childcare falling through, I had to take all three kids to an antifash protest in the cold and was dreading it - the walking, the whining, is it going to be awkward, i trust the organisers but HE’S not bringing his kids, GOD. But then my neighbour and her giant puppy came with us! on purpose! And we knew a lot of people there and the kids played.

I had to buy some clothes for work, and I never buy anything new (never having money) and was scared I’d get it wrong (stupid and weird) but I buckled up and bought these: https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/rosamoth-button-up-midi-skirt https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/swamplife-frog-embroidered-linen-blend-high-waist-midaxi-skirt

And it sounds bonkers, but the amount of people at work, etc, who have come up and instantly allied themselves with me on the strength of Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt has strengthened my convictions. Strongly recommend Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt and their emotional equivalents if you hit a stage of career where you need to suddenly level up.

I am thinking about counterweights. And kindness. And the balance of the turning world. And the light in the sky coming back. And, unfortunately, Killie, but he’s a counterweight too; sure, he’s awful, but we already know he contains the seeds of becoming okay.

As evidence suggests that many things do.

Thank you for your shining kindness, and my love back to you 💫

[cherie-doll]

What characters do you think would lowkey get offended if you picked a stuff animal(or anything) you really wanted, checked the price and set it down. I can just imagine the: ‘why’d you put it down?’ “It was to expensive…I didn’t wanna waste my money on it” ‘who said you were paying 🤨’

oooh, that's a good one

(´ཀ` ) Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip, Keegan

✁✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✁✁

If while shopping with Price you've turned down most of the stuff he's pointed out or wanted to buy for you, he would stop trying to get you interested in something and instead let you roam the store. When you wandered aimlessly and sighed as you looked through stuff until a cute looking teddy bear with a hat caught your eye and you excitedly picked it up. You sighed, however, when you checked the price tag. At this point, Price had had enough of your listlessness and turned you right around, grabbed the stuffed animal and guided you to the counter.

Ghost would have already thought ahead. He had seen you eyeing that five foot snake plush online for the past week, debating whether you should buy it or not. Just when you were on the verge of buying it, you shook your head, reasoning that it was an unnecessary purchase. Until you saw it in-store at the mall. You skipped right up to the shelf it was on and toyed with it. This one looked to be better quality and very soft. You gasped softly at the price tag, before you could untangle it from around your neck Simon grabbed your wrists, stopping you. "It's already paid for." You stared at him, confused. "I paid for it on the website," he explained. "We're here to pick it up. You can take it home." You almost leaped on him right then and there.

Soap just chuckled. "Cute." He thought. You'd really think he'd let you leave the store empty handed and disappointed over numbers written on a tag? Rolling his eyes, as you sputtered excuses, saying you didn't need it and it was fine to leave without it. "I have enough squishmallows." You tried stopping him from filling the basket with more of the fluffy, round plushies. "Stop trying to stop me or I'll end up emptying this entire aisle." If it's within his reach, he'd do anything to make you happy. Also, he's got that military discount.

Gaz would wait until you're distracted by something else to double back and grab it. When you glance over your shoulder, looking for him, you'll be surprised to find him placing a shopping bag with what you had been eyeing only a moment ago, already wrapped and paid for. As you walk out and drive home you'll be lectured about how you shouldn't be hesitating because if you don't he will.

Alejandro would roll his eyes at you, call you stingy for not wanting to get yourself a treat. "You're an adult not a kid, you can buy whatever you want." He'd urge you to grab anything else you want and promptly bring it before he can pull out his wallet and pay. He'd smirk after seeing your uplift in attitude and watching you rush to grab other things.

You'd get an eyebrow raise from Phillip fs. "What's wrong? You don't like it?" And don't THINK of lying and pretending you're not interested in it because of the price, he'd catch on, see right through your act and make you turn around to grab that and anything else your pretty little eyes could set upon and desire because he'll be waiting and ready by the cash register.

Keegan would def get annoyed. He'd just swipe his card. "Quit your whining." Not just to make you keep quiet but because he really didn't want you to worry about anything, you accepting going out with him was more than enough. And when you tried to reject him because he had already given you a ride, paid for your meal, bought you new shoes when you got uncomfortable with the ones you wore for your date, and wanted to pay for anything else you wanted whether it was needed or not, until he reminded you it wasn't an offer he was making. He would do this as many times as necessary until you got used to it.

✁✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✁✃ ✁✃✁ ✃✁✁

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Twelve

First Chapter: here

Previous Chapter: here

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Note 2: This is the final chapter before the endings. Sorry!

—-------------------------------------------------------

The eerily flickering lights of the aquarium almost gave you pause. Strange. You stepped through the employee only entrance and pressed on the light switch. Still, the lights flickered.

“Shriiiimp!” Floyd’s telltale voice cried out from the edge of the tank, his arms crossed on the concrete and chin resting on top of them.

“Shrimp?” you laughed, “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Floyd giggled and stared at you with lidded eyes, “Shrimp!”

“What’s up with the lights?” you asked him, gesturing to the overhead electrical issues. Floyd shrugged and slipped into the water with a breathless giggle. 

You frowned, feeling a little unsettled by the way his shadow danced along the wall as the lights’ flickering became longer. You took a seat at the edge of the tank.

“Where’s Jade?” you asked.

“Right here,” his voice startled you. You swerved your head so quickly that it cricked, spotting his mismatched gaze from a few feet away. Jade’s chin was just above the surface, so that he wouldn’t get water in his mouth when he talked, “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” you said with a smile, “What’s up with the lights?”

As always, there was a cold edge to Jade’s smile, “Nothing to worry about. Electrical problem. It happens sometimes.”

You nodded, though his answer didn’t make you feel any less uneasy. “I see. Let’s hope it gets fixed soon.”

To your surprise, white hair broke the surface and piercing eyes met yours before they softened behind their spectacles. This was the first time Azul had surfaced on his own without Floyd dragging him to the surface. 

“How nice of you to come,” he said, giving you a closed-eyed smile. His gaze suddenly turned serious and he seemed to size you up. “We rarely see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, Azul,” you offered with another smile. A tentacle slid out of the water and brushed against your ankle. You noticed it beginning to curl around the appendage and quickly stood up, knocking it back into the water. 

You backed away from the edge, ignoring the hurt look on his face, “I should really check on the electrical system. It might not be safe if the lights are acting up like this.”

“Noooo,” Floyd wailed, his eyes gleaming with hidden mirth, “Shriiimp, stay! We miiiiss you…”

You felt something brush against your ankle again and stepped back from the edge. Black tentacles slid back into the tank. Jade smiled pleasantly at you, “There’s no rush. You can stay with us.”

“No,” you backed away from the tank, “No, I think I’m done for today.” The lights continued to flicker, staying dark for even longer, sending shadows playing across the faces of the tank’s three inhabitants, making their leering faces look even more frightening in that moment.

As the door slammed behind them, Azul turned to the twins in amusement, speaking in what sounded like clicks to the cameras above the tank, “I believe I have her measurements down.”

Floyd giggled, “Next time?”

“Next time, she’s ours.”

—---------------------------

You decided that, today, you would visit Idia before the snakes. You were much too excited to give him the gift you had brought him to wait any longer.

“Idia! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you entered the enclosure. The lizard halfling was in the very back of the terrarium, curled up in the corner gloomily.

“What is it now?” he asked, not sounding enthusiastic in the slightest.

You handed over your old, blue Nintendo DS along with a ziploc bag filled with games. Idia’s eyes widened, “What is this?”

“It’s a handheld gaming device. You just pop the game you want to play in and open it up,” you explained happily, “It’ll eventually die but-”

“It will die?!” Idia looked horrified, “It is alive?!”

“No no no,” you quickly explained, “I just mean it’ll run out of battery, but I can always charge it again for you.”

Idia’s shoulders sagged in relief and the corners of his lips turned up in a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, straightening up and turning to leave. To your surprise, an electric blue tail curled around your ankle. You turned to face the lizard halfling and were met with pleading eyes.

“Stay, teach me to use it,” Idia begged. 

With a smile, you sat down and picked a random game out of the ziploc bag and popped it in the empty compartment. You flipped open the device and turned it on as Idia watched in awe.

—-----------------------------------

“Hey, Jamil! Hey, Kalim!” you called out, your voice echoing in the heated terrarium. Jamil lifted his head from where he was coiled, his slitted eyes lazily studying you. Kalim, on the other hand, slithered forward eagerly.

“Yay! You’re back!” Kalim cried out, his arms wrapping around your midsection and his face burying itself into your stomach. You stumbled backwards at the enthusiastic force he put into his hug but managed to stay upright. 

“Jamil and I missed you. Jamil talked about you.”

You looked over at the viper halfling, who avoided eye contact. You stifled a giggle and said, “Well, I missed both of you too.”

Kalim’s face brightened, but Jamil’s expression remained guarded. There was tension in the air, something between the two that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Did you bring anything?” Kalim asked excitedly and you realized he was remembering the donuts from last time.

“I’m afraid not. I was going to bring curry but I didn’t have time to make it.”

Kalim made a disgusted face, “Why curry? Curry is gross!”

Jamil’s eyes flashed with irritation and he gave Kalim a fearsome glare, “Because that is my favorite.”

The tension between the two crackled like electricity and you quickly intervened, “I’ll bring some next time, Jamil. Kalim, can I bring you anything?”

Kalim looked puzzled as he tried to think of what you could bring. He finally smiled brightly and shrugged, “Anything but curry!”

Jamil continued to glare at his roommate as he said lowly, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“How have you both been?” you asked.

Jamil opened his mouth to respond and was immediately cut off by Kalim, “I missed you soooooo much!”

You laughed, “I missed you too.” You looked at your watch and with a pang you realized you were running low on time already, “Have you been up to anything exciting?”

Kalim’s grin widened, “After you left, I cried. Then, I shed my skin. Then, I rested. Then…”

Kalim gave you a play-by-play of everything he had been up to since your previous visit. You watched as the seconds ticked by on your watch, fighting off boredom.

Finally, you realized you couldn’t stay any longer if you were planning to see the tigers and panthers today. You hesitantly interrupted Kalim’s droning and said, “I’m so sorry, guys, but I need to head out.”

Kalim’s eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around you once again, “Please, stay longer.”

“I can’t, Kalim. I promise I’ll be back soon,” you said, gently disentangling yourself from his grasp.

Kalim’s eyes filled with tears, “You’re always leaving! It’s not fair!”

“I know, and I’m really sorry. But I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?” you reassured him, reaching out to give his head a gentle pat.

Kalim’s sobs followed you out the door of the enclosure. You felt like a heartless monster as you closed the door, but you knew you couldn’t stay and now had to run to make it on time. 

Behind the closed door, Jamil hissed at Kalim to shut up and the boy stopped crying almost immediately. Then, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind…

Meanwhile, you had finally arrived at the panthers and tigers exhibit. You hurried into the exhibit and stopped dead in your tracks. To your surprise, it wasn’t just Silver and Sebek standing near the employee entrance but, for the first time, Malleus and Lilia as well. 

Before you could question the sudden welcome, Lilia skipped up to you and linked his arm with yours, half-walking, half-dragging you over to the others.

“You’re late!” Sebek yelled.

“Sorry about that,” you winced at the volume of his voice and waved to the four halflings sheepishly, “How are you all?”

Lilia brought you closer to the other three and Malleus reached out and gently grasped your chin. He redirected your face to look at him and you frowned at his serious expression.

“Crowley,” Malleus said softly, “You cannot trust him. In fact, you cannot trust anyone here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, suspicion spiking immediately. Sure, Mr. Crowley was eccentric, but to not be able to trust him? Wasn’t that going a bit far?

Malleus’s frown deepened, “He will allow anything to happen to you, if it is for the better of the zoo.”

You shook your head and let out an awkward, humorless laugh, “I don’t think that’s true…”

“A storm is coming, (Y/n),” Silver said softly.

“You can’t trust anyone,” Sebek affirmed.

“Least of all us,” Lilia said with an eerie smile.

[octuscle]

Beast Mode in the Mountains

Winter had settled its icy grip on the mountains, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. I was shivering under three jackets, sitting in a rustic little cabin with my uncle Frank and my grandfather Walter.

Frank, a 50-year-old mechanic with grease-stained hands, was cursing at the broken heating system. "Damn thing’s dead," he muttered. Walter, my 80-year-old ex-farmer granddad, just chuckled, wrapped in three blankets. "In my day, we just lit a fire and dealt with it."

"Yeah, well, it's 2025, and I'm not about to freeze to death," Frank grumbled, pulling out his phone. He tapped around, looking for heating solutions when he stumbled across an app called Chronivac.

"What the hell is this?" he mused. He scrolled through the settings and found something labeled BULL. "Might as well try it."

The moment he pressed the button, Frank groaned. His body swelled—broadening, thickening. His jacket ripped at the seams as his biceps bulged, his chest expanded, and his neck thickened into a massive yoke of muscle. Hair sprouted across his body, thick and coarse like an animal’s. His face grew squarer, his nose broader, his ears slightly pointed. His voice deepened into a guttural rumble.

"Whoa—what the hell?!" he bellowed, gripping his growing forearms as veins surged to the surface. His fingers thickened, his nails darkening. His boots strained, then burst apart as his feet expanded. He stood, now 7 feet tall, pushing 500 pounds of sheer muscle, with shoulders as wide as the doorway.

"Holy—Frank, what happened to you?!" I stammered.

Frank blinked at his massive hands, then smirked. "This app… It changes people."

Walter squinted at him. "You look like a damn monster."

Frank scrolled through the app again. "Let's test something. How about… POLAR BEAR?"

He pressed the button, and Walter let out a deep, rumbling growl. His wrinkles faded, his frame straightened, and he ballooned in size. Muscles layered onto his old, wiry frame, his gut hardening into a thick, powerful core. His hands turned into massive paws, tipped with thick claws. White fur exploded across his skin, covering his entire body. His face pushed forward slightly, his teeth elongating into sharp canines.

Walter, now a beast of a man, easily 8 feet tall and close to 600 pounds of sheer bulk, cracked his thickened neck. "Well, damn. I feel stronger than I ever have."

I gulped. "Maybe we should stop—"

Frank grinned and tapped the screen again. HAIRY PAKISTANI BODYBUILDER.

A jolt hit me. My whole body felt like it was being pulled, stretched, reshaped. My arms swelled first—biceps and triceps thickening, veins snaking across the surface. My chest ballooned outward into two massive, fur-covered slabs. My abs tightened into an eight-pack. My legs thickened like tree trunks, muscles rippling beneath my darkening skin. A thick pelt of black hair surged across my chest, arms, and legs. My face matured—my jaw squared, my nose broadened, and my hair became fuller, darker, and perfectly groomed. My height shot up to 6'8", my weight packing on until I neared 400 pounds of hulking, hairy muscle.

I flexed instinctively, feeling strength course through my new body. "Whoa…"

Frank laughed. "This is insane! But damn, it’s still cold."

He kept scrolling, and then his eyes lit up. "Check this out—BEAST MODE. Says it’s permanent, though."

"Frank, wait—"

He tapped the button.

The changes hit like an earthquake. My muscles surged even larger—my biceps, now 30 inches thick, split with striations. My pecs became shelf-like, pushing my chest outward. My legs, already tree trunks, thickened into something inhuman. My body hair turned even denser, almost like fur. My face became more bestial—sharper, more primal, my canines extending into fangs. My ears lengthened slightly, my hands growing into massive, claw-tipped paws. I felt an overwhelming hunger, a raw, untamed energy bubbling beneath my skin.

Frank roared as his transformation completed, his body now a massive hybrid of muscle, fur, and raw power. Walter, now fully a monstrous polar bear-man, growled deeply, his glowing blue eyes surveying the cabin.

We had become something more than human. Something powerful. Something unstoppable.

And we weren’t cold anymore.

Thanks for pics and inspiration to @reddarkfox222

[pinkydevil16]

Dark!Coriolanus Snow x Reader: gilded cage

18+ smut, possessiveness, toxic af, 

Snow was a manipulative bastard and yet he was so charming that now he sat in front of the capitol as President, something which terrified Y/n to her core as he held out his hand towards her. Much like her husband she wore all white, a beautifully crafted white dress with roses embellished all over the skirt identical to the one Coriolanus wore on his breast pocket. Stepping forward Y/n placed her bejewelled hand in his, their wedding bands touching as he wove his fingers between hers and stood. Kissing her hand as she bowed to her husband, the President of the capitol and all the districts, an honour bestowed upon him yet Y/n had no doubt this would happen some day, just not so quickly. Coriolanus turned to the audience, pulling Y/n close as he placed a kiss on her forehead, hearing the crowd cheer for their President and his Victor from district 12. His first victor, his first love and his little pet. 

Y/n could feel his hand on her back as many of the Capitols elite and powerful congratulated him, each one grinning ear to ear as he thanked them, tapping his fingers to signal Y/n to talk. Her hand coming out to introduce herself and thank them for voting for her husband, although she was sure it had been rigged in his favour. He was fond of cheating, he cheated so she could win her games a few years ago, cheated the system to keep her in the capitol and most certainly cheated to become President. Although she wasn't permitted to call it cheating when they argued about his manipulative nature, no that word made him angry and he'd shout that he only did what was necessary. That she'd be dead without him, some nobody from district 12 that even her parents would forget to mourn, at first his words had stung, had given him a chance to comfort her and apologise. Hold her in his hands whilst she cried that the world wasn't fair, let him whisper sweet things of how he was only saving her but over time his sweet words hurt more than the insults, they cut deeper. Reminded her how she'd been caught by the snake, locked away from her family and treated as though she was lucky for being slowly destroyed by Snow. 

"It is so wonderful to see the Capitol's darling doing so well, President Snow you did a beautiful job with this one." Y/n could feel her eye twitch, the comment angering her, they all spoke about her like she was an animal he'd tamed and made perform. Not that they were wrong, unfortunately she was an animal to them, a dirty, pitiful nobody who Snow had dusted off, put in pretty dresses and showed off to the rich. A doll dressed up for the masses, just like the victors after her, although she was in a gilded cage, locked away from all but her husband, they were in a similar condition. The victors village, another genius idea from her husband, so the Capitol could visit them, see how they coped after the games. See them reunite with their families and congratulate themselves on allowing those outside the capital to thrive under their watch. It disgusted Y/n, another element of control that Coriolanus enjoyed exploiting, it had only been 5 years since her games yet so much had changed. The arena was harsher, more cameras, more blood shed and now the reason to win, protect your family and give them everything they could ever want. Not like in her games or those before where you were sent back to your district to starve, to work yourself to the bone whilst the blood stained your hands. 

"I am so proud to be apart of the Capitol, it has been an honour to marry Coriolanus, i fell for him the moment i saw him as i stepped off that train. He was the first gentleman i'd ever truly met, he gave me the most beautiful rose and since then he had my heart." Y/n repeated the same story she'd told for the past 4 years, almost like a robot as the words came out, her cheeks hurting as she smiled and looked at Snow. His blue eyes staring down at her as he gave her an approving smile, loving how she followed the script he had for her, not allowing her to speak freely. He called her his dove but she felt like a mockingjay, repeating his words over and over. That word was also a big no, he despised the birds, claimed they were failures of the Capitol and she should never compare herself to such a disaster. 

"You have been married for almost 4 years now, shall we start preparing for babies soon?" One of his Academy 'friends' joked, whilst Y/n's blood ran cold she could almost feel the burning desire in Coriolanus as he laughed and joked back something Y/n couldn't hear over the pounding of her heart. She knew he wanted children, he'd always wanted to be President more and she'd played that against him, reminded him that he had to think of his career. Placated him as he stood in the mirror, her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around his middle as she pressed against his back. Goating his ego, he had work to do, he was going to be President and become the most powerful man in Panem, President Snow. He loved to hear those words come from her mouth, it stroked his ego to no end and would distract him from his desire to have her round his baby. Instead he would demand she bend the knee to her President, would exert as much power as he could over her, make her thank him for everything she had and everything she would ever be given, all thanks to him. But it was better than carrying his child, nurturing his child and watching that child grow up to be him. It didn't matter what influence she could have on the child, she could spend hours upon hours teaching them morals, teaching them to be good, she knew they'd be like him. Tigris had once told her of how Coryo was good, was misunderstood and told her tales of their childhood that made Y/n almost feel pity for Snow, almost. But each story still lead to where he was now, a possessive, controlling and paranoid man. 

In the first year of being victor she'd been so jumpy, hearing things, thinking she was being followed, driving herself into madness with fear. She'd had countless accidents with hurting people from being spooked, and thought she'd never recover from the games, that it was just in her head and she was losing it. Until he'd finally talked to her, confessed his feelings and told her he knew she felt the same, that he'd been there the whole time. That he'd been protecting her, had seen how she'd not been able to cope without him and suddenly all her fears rolled into own person, Coriolanus Snow who had been orchestrating her downfall since she left the arena. Suddenly her Mother and younger brother were being put in the new 'Victor Village' unveiled before the 11th hunger games, with Y/n and her family waving happily to the districts and a speech of how wonderful life was to be a victor. 

"You did so well my dove." Y/n looked up at Coriolanus as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, his hands barely touching her arms as he did. Pulling away he smiled down at her before lightly grasping her chin, pulling her into a searing kiss which she reciprocated after a small, sharp grip to her arms. Coriolanus pulled back, grinning as he stepped away and turned to begin removing his suit jacket, hanging it carefully to stop it creasing.

"Can i see my family, please Coryo. It has been almost a year since i last saw my mother." Y/n could feel her voice getting weaker as she spoke, seeing him slouch slightly as he let out a sigh making her wring her hands in front of her before he abruptly turned. Y/n looked down at her hands as he approached, aware of his body towering over her, almost like she was a small child asking a parent for something. 

"Do you think you deserve such a reward? My sweet dove." Y/n let go of her hands and placed them behind her back, forcing herself to look up at him as he stood with his arms crossed. This was a test, much like all the others he'd presented to her over the years. She thought one day she'd have mastered how to answer but her palms still became clammy, her chest tightened and she felt dizzy the same as the first time he'd asked her such a simple question.

"I think i deserve whatever you give to me." Y/n could see him preen at the obvious submission, a cat like grin taking over his features as he moved fast, leaning down and hoisting her into his arms as Y/n yelped in surprise. 

"And if i think i deserve more for such a reward? What would you give to me, what would you do to see them?" His hands held her thighs in a deadly grip as he walked them through the apartment, her hands gripping his shoulders as her eyes darted around trying to gauge her surroundings. 

"Dove." His tone held a warning as her eyes dropped back to his as he slowed his pace and pressed her against a wall, her eyes moving to where their bed sat behind him, the sheets newly changed and perfectly arranged. Moving her eyes back to his as she tried to hide her fear, recalling what his old friend had said, she knew what he wanted. He'd always wanted it, and now nothing she said could be put inbetween. He was holding her family against her for a family of his own, although even if she hadn't asked, she'd still be in the same position. Being told to ask for it. 

"I don't know." Y/n stuttered out, aware of how hot she was becoming, the panic seeping into her bones at the thought of being a mother, she could see it in his eyes, feel it against her thigh as he looked at her like prey.

"That's okay my precious dove, i don't expect my beautiful wife to have to think about things. Why don't i just take what i deserve and you look pretty whilst i do?" Coriolanus pressed his face into her neck, pressing her against the wall with his body so his hands could push her dress up and around her waist. 

"You make those pretty noises for me and take me just as you normally do. But this time i'm going to fuck a baby into you just as i have wanted to do since i met you." Y/n let out a small yelp as she felt his fingers reach into her underwear, her mind dissociating as he whispered words she couldn't hear into her ear. 

"No! You don't get to do that!" Coriolanus shouted all of a sudden, pulling Y/n back to where she now laid against the bed, her dress gone and her husband angrily stood between her legs, hands gripping the bed til his fingers were white as he seethed.

"I'm sorry." Y/n forced out, it wasn't often he noticed her mind was elsewhere, too consumed by his pleasure and how her body responded. She allowed her body to relax, whilst her mind ran through fields, dove into lakes and occasionally put her back into the game except now she was fighting against Coriolanus. Raising a hand she lightly touched his face, guiding him down until she could kiss him, soothing his anger as she wrapped her legs around him. Guiding him to where he wanted to be, allowing him to enter her as he sighed at the loving embrace, pulling back to push his head into her beck. Placing small kissing against her hot skin, hands roaming along her as he moved against her. Y/n was given reprieve as she closed her eyes, imagining she was swimming in the lake with Coriolanus, a memory she fondly looked back on. Two friends swimming together, and in her memory she could remove the look in his eyes, the way his hands touched her and instead it was a beautiful memory of a time when she felt safe. 

"You are so beautiful, i knew i had to have you. Since the minute you were picked you were mine, you were my tribute, to save and nurture. To protect. And now you are going to repay me, with a beautiful child for us to love. Although i do fear i will never love our child as much as i love you. But everyone will know you are forever mine, no one will ever hurt you." Y/n placed a hand on his hair, running it through his curls as she let out a sigh, spurring her husband on as he raised his head.

"I cannot wait to see you round with my child." Y/n nodded, pulling him down to her lips as she raised her hips to meet his thrusts, knowing his own words were spurring him more than any action she could do. He was in control.

Y/n sat next to Snow, their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren all stood behind them as he unveiled the 75th hunger games, the 3rd Quarter Quells. And his last hope of ending the rebellion. But all Y/n hoped for, was that the Mockingjay would sing and she could be free at last.