#don't waste your time with me; {interactions}

[icarusignite]

he leaves you out like a penny in the rain (p.2)

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: I did not expect all the overwhelming love and feedback on part 1, so thank you so much to everyone who read and interacted, you made my day.

There will be a part 3 later to explore them getting even closer, and that will be more fluff (I did say slowburn lmao). I know they don't technically kiss and make up in this one, but that would be unrealistic, and this chapter is essentially Zayne having an existential crisis lmao. Gotta make our man suffer a little. I may also make this a whole series with more snippets of their life together (dates, workplace shenanigans, wedding, etc.) cuz I am rather attached to the concept of Zayne x coworker lmao. As always would love ot hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

"I didn't ask for her kindness. She's not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule."

Zayne regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In his head, they'd sounded like a neutral observation spoken in the abstract. But out loud? They were undeniably brutal.

He didn't even realize how harshly it had come across until he saw Miss Hunter's expression change. The easygoing smile slid off her face, and her eyes narrowed. She began gathering the files strewn across his desk in silence.

Zayne frowned. "What are you doing?"

Miss Hunter scowled without looking up. "Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking to someone with the emotional availability of a brick."

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes as she shoved a folder into her bag. "I do sincerely hope, for your sake, no one else heard you say that. Your colleague may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them. I've never seen anyone work as hard as she does. She bends over backward for her patients, stays longer than anyone else, and still finds time to show basic human decency to the people around her. You don't have to like her, Zayne, but don't you dare belittle her like that."

Zayne opened his mouth to reply, but the woman had already thrown her coat over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Didn't you say you needed my help with the case? That is why you've been coming in, haven't you?"

"I think I have what I need. Someone from the Association will give you a call if we require anything else." Her eyes met his one last time. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Now don't let me waste any more of it."

Then she was gone, and the silence she left behind was deafening. It wasn't like her to walk out like that. Frigid departures were his specialty.

He sat down slowly, but didn't open the file in front of him. Instead, his eyes drifted to the spot on his desk where you used to leave his tea for him.

Miss Hunter was kind. You were, too. He never quite understood why people like that kept finding their way into his life. He seemed terrible at keeping them there. And now, he was starting to understand why.

The words he'd said earlier soured in his stomach, replaying in his mind like a low-grade headache he couldn't medicate away. He didn't even know why he'd said them. It wasn't like him to speak without thinking.

Miss Hunter was one of his oldest friends. She had known him long before he was "Dr. Li." Back when he was just Zayne. She knew his tells better than anyone.

If she had caught him glancing at you every time you entered his office, she would have known immediately. She would have teased him mercilessly, bothered him about something he didn't even fully understand himself.

And she was your friend, too. Which meant she would've told you.

He certainly hadn't wanted that. It would ruin things.

Not that there was anything to ruin, technically. You weren't involved. You weren't his. You weren't anything more than a colleague.

From the early days of med school to the quiet corners of the hospital now, you flitted in and out of his life with a warm drink in one hand and a smile on your face, offering sugar and comfort like it cost you nothing.

Zayne knew better than to believe it was just for him. You were like that with everyone.

You brought donuts for the night shift nurses, slushies for interns melting in the summer heat, and hot cider during the freezing winter. You volunteered to cover holidays and swapped shifts without complaint. You remembered birthdays, favourite snacks, and which residents were allergic to almonds.

You were a kindness machine, and he hated that it still got to him. Sometimes it was hard not to feel like there was something different about the way you smiled at him, and when you slipped out of his office after each delivery, Zayne found it nearly impossible to concentrate afterward.

Your presence left ripples. He had insinuated that you were a distraction, but not because you hindered the hospital. No, you were a distraction to him. When you were gone, he was thinking about you, and when you were near, he couldn't think at all.

So why had he said what he said?

Because he didn't want Miss Hunter to know what he was feeling? Because he didn't want you to know?

Zayne took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. He still didn't have a good answer. The only real explanation was the simplest, and the hardest to admit: He'd been cruel. And now he felt the guilt of it like a stone in his throat.

Zayne wasn't the kind of man who tracked people's comings and goings. He only paid attention to pathology reports, test results, and charts with clear logic. He didn't count footsteps in the hallway or wonder where someone's voice had gone.

At least, not until yours had been missing for three days.

At first, he told himself it was a good thing. You were keeping your distance, finally, after all this time. No more interruptions. No more unsolicited desserts or stickers pressed onto his notes like a child's reward chart.

He had, after all, been pulling away from you, too. Maybe you'd finally taken the hint.

He should've been relieved. This distance was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd convinced himself that if you were gone—if your presence stopped softening the corners of his day—then he'd finally be able to focus again. Be more efficient. More himself.

But to his growing dismay, the effect was the exact opposite. He could focus even less.

He spent too long rereading documents, missed the timing on his own schedule, and found his attention drifting in the middle of patient reports. Every time he turned a corner and didn't see you, he wondered where you were. When he passed the pediatric ward and didn't catch a glimpse of you hunched over a chart or joking with a young patient, he slowed to search without meaning to.

Maybe you were on vacation. That was rational. Doctors took leave all the time, and you of all people deserved one. But when he asked a pediatric nurse in passing, he got an answer that deflated every illusion he'd been holding onto.

"She's still on duty," the nurse explained. "Very busy. You know how she can be."

That was worse. You were close by, and still not coming around. It became harder to ignore.

Occasionally, he'd get a glimpse of your coat disappearing down a hall, or the top of your head as you ducked into the operating theatre, but never your face. And he certainly never saw you in his office again, even when you should have been there.

His desk was cleaner now. No crumbs from lemon cake, and no more paper cups of oolong. During his breaks, he found himself rifling through his drawers, trying not to look at the stack of stickers he kept there. The ones he peeled off and meant to toss, but never did.

There was the glittering, heart-shaped one you'd slapped onto his clipboard months ago. A cartoon cat, a kidney with googly eyes, and a shiny peach. You'd stuck that last one on his stethoscope once, and he hadn't taken it off for days, claiming it made his youngest patients smile.

But really, it was because it made you smile.

By the fifth day of your absence, he found himself looking up every time his office door opened. He dared not say aloud what he was hoping for, but the disappointment in his expression was telling enough when his guest never turned out to be you. He hadn't realized how often you used to cross his path until you didn't anymore.

On the sixth day, he lingered by the pediatric nurses' station, claiming he was checking up on a shared patient, but he didn't find you.

On the seventh, he stopped by the eastern stairwell just before midnight, the one he knew you liked to take instead of the elevator because you were trying to get your daily steps in. It was empty, but he waited for fifteen whole minutes.

By the end of the week, something in his chest felt too tight. The silences were heavy, and his tea never tasted right because he had to make it himself.

It was nearing midnight when Zayne finally finished logging the last of his post-op notes. The hospital had thinned to its late-shift hush, leaving only the occasional overhead call and the low hum of fluorescent lighting that never truly turned off.

The unexpected sound of knocking almost made him flinch, but when the door opened, his shoulders practically slumped in disappointment.

"No need to look so disheartened by my presence," his colleague, Dr. Greyson, teased. "I'm only here to drop off patient files, as you requested."

Zayne didn't respond.

"I really wish you hadn't scared off our caffeine supplier, though," Dr. Greyson continued, unaware of the subtle shift in the man's demeanour at the mention of you.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. The doctor who used to swing by with desserts. She hasn't come by in a whole week. The whole cardiology department is suffering. Morale's at an all-time low."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "I hardly think anyone's suffering."

Greyson tilted his head, watching him with that infuriating look that said I know more than you think I do."Did you scare her off or something? You used to get visits like clockwork. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I find myself missing that 'you-forgot-to-eat-again' look of pity she used to give all of us."

"She is probably busy. As you should be."

Greyson clicked his tongue. "I'm not trying to pry—well, maybe I am, just a little—but I figure if she stopped showing up, and you started passing by pediatrics like you're casing the joint, something must've happened."

"Nothing happened," Zayne muttered stiffly.

"Sure. Except for the part where she's been sending interns to collect your reports instead of coming herself. And the part where you've looked like someone kicked your cat for three days straight. You're not as subtle as you think."

"It's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" his colleague drawled. "Because it's starting to affect your concentration. You missed a detail on that post-op note yesterday. Not like you."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. "It was corrected immediately."

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice." Then he added, more gently, "You know, if she's avoiding you, there's probably a reason."

Dr. Greyson's words echoed long after he departed.

Zayne scoffed at first, but the question refused to dislodge itself, settling under his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite reach.

What had he done? What could he have done?

He turned the thought over again and again, as if studying it from every clinical angle might make it reveal itself.

Yes, perhaps he'd been colder than usual lately, but that wasn't new. You'd known him long enough to recognize the ebb and flow of his moods. You used to tease him about it. "Dr. Li, did your coffee betray you again today?" or "Should I come back when the glacier thaws?"

You always came back because you weren't the type to hold a grudge. And certainly not the type to vanish without a word. If something bothered you, you would have said it.

So, why disappear?

The only thing he'd done differently, the only deviation from the constant rhythm of your companionship, was—

His stomach turned.

No.

There was no way.

Had you heard what he said to Miss Hunter that night? Or worse, had she told you herself?

Miss Hunter wasn't the sort to do that, especially if she knew it would hurt you. But you hadn't been working that night. He'd checked the rota; you weren't even on call.

His voice sounded vindictive in hindsight. He had only meant it as a deflection. A way to keep Miss Hunter from pressing further into places he hadn't yet dared to look himself. He hadn't thought—

He hadn't thought.

His gut twisted. That would explain your absence. You hadn't simply disappeared, you'd withdrawn. And not just from him, but from his whole department.

He'd done something worse than push you too far. He'd made you feel small and irrelevant.

Zayne exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, overcome with guilt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't good with apologies. He wasn't even sure how to begin, but something had to be done.

If not for himself—he still wouldn't allow himself that admission—then at least for the others. For the people who looked to you. For the space you had filled so effortlessly, that now felt so cold and painfully quiet.

Maybe, if he could fix this, you'd look at him again the way you used to. Maybe it was time for him to stop watching his door and finally go knock on yours.

The next week, Zayne finally mustered the courage to approach you. He stood just by your office, waiting for you to arrive, but when you finally did, you were moving too quickly for him to say anything. Your shoulders were tensed as you ducked past him, and without thinking to ask for permission, he followed you inside.

You didn't even acknowledge his presence. You were hunched over a drawer, rifling through it with your good hand. The other one—your dominant, he noticed—was clenched in a bloodied fist, a crimson thread trickling from between your fingers and down your wrist.

"You're hurt," he murmured.

You ignored him, yanking open another drawer with more force than necessary. Your good hand trembled as you pulled out the first aid kit, and it clattered onto the desk, spilling slightly.

He took a step forward. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Still no response, and Zayne was forced to watch as you clumsily opened the box, tugging at alcohol wipes and sterile gauze with one hand, fumbling with the bandage roll like it had personally offended you. When the antiseptic hit your wound, you hissed, and that was the last straw.

Zayne reached for your wrist, and you pulled back as if stung, your blood-slicked palm cradled awkwardly against your chest.

"I just want to—"

"Leave me be!" you snapped. "Please. I have work to do."

He didn't raise his voice. "You can't work like this."

"I am working like this."

"You can't take care of your patients if you can't take care of yourself."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Is this your way of calling me incompetent again? Believe me, Dr. Li, I have no time for you right now."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently. "I'm not trying to—look, please, just let me help. You can snap at me all you want afterwards."

Without waiting for your response, he firmly nudged you in the direction of your chair, and you let him because standing suddenly felt too exhausting. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off, or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore. You kept your mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he worked.

Zayne didn't speak either, kneeling beside you tentatively. He did not look at your face as he pried open your fist, his frown deepening as he examined the wound. Then he cleaned it with uncharacteristic tenderness, wiping away the blood and wrapping the gauze, his fingers stalling against your skin a beat too long.

When he finally stood to pack the kit away, you stood too, your anger spilling past your lips in a venomous tumble.

"My apologies for wasting your precious time with personal errands, Dr. Li," you practically sneered. "But you don't have to play nursemaid anymore. You do have a department to run, after all."

His own words thrown back at him. Zayne winced, but met your gaze without faltering. He deserved every bit of your resentment. "That was...certainly warranted."

You scoffed, pressing your wrapped hand into your lap. "Damn right, it was."

He nodded stiffly, absorbing the blow without complaint. He would accept your barbed words because at least you were speaking to him. Anything was better than your silence.

"I..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

When all you could do was glower at him, he adjusted his lab coat just to have something to do with his hands.

"I have no excuse for what I said. Or for what you heard," he continued. "It was... awful. And cruel. And I was wrong. You work harder than anyone else here. You work too hard. And I never should've implied otherwise. I'm sorry."

"I don't accept it," you said simply.

"I—"

"I don't care if that makes me petty. I'm allowed to be angry. You don't get forgiveness just because you decided to feel bad about it now."

Zayne's mouth parted in protest. "I know this is about the conversation you overheard, and I—"

"The one where you called me pathetic? Questioned my competence? You essentially said I've been neglecting my job because I bring my colleagues refreshments every now and then?"

"You must know...I had no intention of hurting you."

"Didn't you?" You stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. "Because I remember every word. Every. Word. And believe me, it wasn't the first time I've been told I'm not good enough to be here. I just never thought you'd be the one to say it."

He flinched, but you didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

You tipped your head toward the door. "Please leave, Dr. Li. As per your earlier suggestions, I am working on managing my time better, and part of that includes not engaging in pointless conversations."

You followed him to the door, closing it in his face with a click. It was worse than if you had slammed it, because this felt too final.

He was just about to leave when he heard the strangled sound from the other side. A whimper and then a quiet sniffle. Zayne stood frozen in place, hand hovering over the doorknob, wishing he could offer more than the hollow apology he had.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "Truly, I am sorry."

For the first time in all the years he had known you, there was nothing else he could say.

Zayne didn't try to speak to you again. You asked him to leave you alone, and he respected your decision enough to resist intruding into your life. But that didn't mean he stopped caring, and he certainly never stopped trying. He just changed the way he did it.

You never ran out of your favourite stationery, a new box appearing on your desk every time you were even close, and it seemed that someone had paid for a lifetime's worth of beverage orders at the cafe across the street where you frequented. Every time you showed up, the barista would grin at you and tell you that your order had been paid for, no matter what hour it was. It was absurd.

The nurses had started noticing, too. How Zayne signed off on consults for your shared patients before you could ask him to. And the fact that the smartboard in your office now auto-updated like clockwork because someone had programmed the algorithm to pull directly from the cardiology logs.

He didn't overstep, of course. He didn't want to do anything that would make you think he was questioning your competence or ability to get things done. He just handled the little things to make your life easier.

For Zayne, it wasn't about being forgiven. He wasn't delusional enough to think that any of this would win you over, but that wasn't the point. He just couldn't stand the thought of you being tired, overworked, or overlooked anymore.

He knew you were angry, and you had every right to be, but this was the only way he could think of to fix things. To anticipate your every need before it arose and solve it before it became a problem.

However, no matter how much he tried to stay out of your way, his eyes were always drawn toward you when he occasionally passed you by, like a reflex he couldn't kill. You never returned the look, and though it killed him, he never stopped refilling the frog stickers when the last sheet disappeared from your drawer, and making sure the lab results for your most critical cases were flagged top priority. He wasn't waiting for your gratitude. He just didn't know what else to do with the ache that sat where your laughter used to echo.

It became unbearable when he began messing with your break room. The one in the pediatric wing was barely even a room, really just a glorified closet with a dying microwave and a fridge that made suspicious humming noises when overfilled. But it had been your domain. A little corner of chaos you liked to keep warm for the interns and residents who rotated through your department, stumbling half-asleep between charts and crying toddlers.

You'd made it a habit to stock the cabinets with snacks. Caffeine bars. Gummy vitamins. Single-serve juice boxes and thermal mugs with weird slogans. It wasn't much, but it made the 2 a.m. shifts bearable. People had started calling it the "Sunshine Station."

But lately, something had shifted.

You didn't notice it at first because you were too busy. But then, one afternoon, you ducked into the room to grab the last apple juice from the mini fridge, only to find that the juice had already been restocked. Not just that, it had been rearranged neatly, the labels facing out. Right next to a new box of cereal bars that no one else even liked, but your most overworked intern swore kept her from fainting.

It was strange. You hadn't placed an order this month because you'd been shamefully distracted by your own indignation. When you checked the other cabinets, they were full too, and not just with generics, either.

The gummy vitamins were the exact kind your other interns liked, the ones shaped like bears instead of those awful chalky tablets. Whoever had placed the order had even remembered to get lactose-free yogurt.

When you asked around later that day, all you received were blank stares. Those who frequented the break room claimed that the items had been simply delivered as they always were, and that they thought you had been the one to handle it like you always did.

It unsettled you. For years, you had been the one to keep things stocked. You took pride in remembering everyone's favourites because you liked showing up for the people who worked under you. It mattered to you. But now it was as if someone had quietly picked up where you left off. Someone had taken the time to learn what your team liked. Someone who was trying very hard to make amends.

You shut the thought down fast. You didn't want to think about him.

But your interns had other ideas, it seemed.

The next evening, you were filling out patient notes at the corner table, half-tuned out, while they squabbled over a nearly empty box of mango pudding cups.

"I swear to god, Nam, that was my last one!"

"First come, first serve, Clara. You've had four already!"

"I'm dessert-loading for morale!"

You didn't intervene. Their bickering was strangely comforting, like white noise after too many days of stifling silence.

Clara finally wrenched the box from Nam's hands, only to gasp dramatically.

"They're gone!" she mourned, rattling the empty cardboard. "My pudding! This is an emergency!"

"Just ask Dr. Li to add them to the supply list," Nam muttered, crouching to inspect the fridge's bottom shelf for apple slices.

You froze. "Ask who?"

Nam's head jerked up, eyes wide. "I—I mean, like. I don't know why I said that. Just—someone else must've added them to the order since you've been so busy lately. That's all I meant."

Clara nodded with a false smile. "We must have a secret supplier in our midst who keeps us stocked. The Snack Phantom. Or maybe... the Nutrition Ninja."

Nam nodded sagely. "The Candy Courier."

"Or the Juicy Justice Man."

"Okay, now you're just being plain ridiculous," you snorted, rubbing your temple. "In case you forgot, I'm the one who places the orders. And I'm sorry I forgot to this month. So what's all this about Dr. Li? He's got nothing to do with us."

Clara's eyes bounced between you and Nam guiltily. "Oh. Uh...it's just that he asked us about our snack preferences."

Nam nodded. Then quickly shook his head. "Well, not all of them. Just like... a few specific ones."

You squinted suspiciously. "Like what?"

Nam hesitated. "Like, which flavour of chips you like. And which brand of protein bars Clara eats when she's on night shifts. And those gummies that Dr. Gao hoards like a dragon."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Dr. Li doesn't believe in vending machines," Clara deadpanned, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. "I swear I've heard him call flavoured chips 'an affront to God' once."

"He's not trying to replace you, of course," Nam added hastily. "He's just taking stuff off your plate. We all know how busy you've been lately. You even have that health outreach drive this weekend."

Your jaw clenched, and you looked back down at your chart, trying to keep your expression unreadable. In your periphery, you saw the two interns nudge each other, mumbling something about a chart they forgot to update before scuttling off.

When the room cleared out a few minutes later, you were left alone with your tepid green tea, staring at a worn sticker someone had left on the edge of the table. The same kind you used to put on Zayne's mugs.

Suddenly, every little thing felt far too overwhelming. You didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Gratitude? Bitterness? Some ugly combination of both?

You were just so tired.

It was past midnight when you finally finished with your tasks of the day, exhaustion making your limbs feel like they belonged to someone else. Your coat was slung over your arm, your bag slumped tiredly against one shoulder, and the charts you'd meant to leave in the admin office tilted in your grip like a collapsing tower.

You cursed under your breath when a few of them slipped loose and tumbled to the floor. When you bent, your back made an uncharacteristic sound, and you winced. You hadn't eaten dinner. Or lunch, or even breakfast, for that matter. Your feet hurt, and you still had a dozen things to do tomorrow, even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Of course, this would happen. Of course—

"Let me help."

You turned sharply, and there stood Dr. Zayne Li, just a few paces away.

His hair was impeccable as always, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, coat draped carelessly over his shoulder. He looked as tired as you felt. More, maybe. The shadows under his eyes had grown darker since the last time you really looked at him.

You hadn't seen him this close in months.

In the time it took for you to scrutinize him, he had already stepped forward to gather your scattered files. When he handed them back to you, his fingers brushed yours tentatively, but you did not thank him.

Nonetheless, he followed you to the nurses' station where you dropped your load off, and then outside toward the exit.

"I didn't think you'd let me help," he remarked.

You shrugged, and that earned the smallest quirk of his lips. Equal parts sad and knowing. He must have sensed some kind of brittle neutrality in your expression. Not forgiveness, but the absence of active malice. The first thaw in a long, punishing winter.

When the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, he held the door open for you. You didn't comment on it, and the silence stretched again.

Zayne cleared his throat. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I checked the roster. I wasn't trying to pry."

You gave him a sideways glance.

"I just—" He adjusted his cufflinks. "I've been trying to apologize. Properly. I know I hurt you. I said things I didn't mean, and I let you believe things that weren't true. That you weren't—"

You turned to face him then, and he stopped talking.

"You did hurt me."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I still don't think I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself. "But holding onto it for this long has been exhausting, so I'm going to let it go. I'm not letting you off the hook. I am just letting myself off it. I simply don't care what you think of me, so you can rest easy, I suppose. I'm not angry anymore."

Strangely enough, you found that you meant it. It had been several months since the incident, and although for a short while it had bruised your ego, you needed to try and move past it. It was a lesson you had learned early in life when everyone around you doubted your abilities. You could not let their opinions of you make you waver. The same applied here. While you admired Zayne's intelligence and abilities, you refused to let his opinion of you affect your work. You had worked too hard for that to happen.

You were letting go more for yourself than for him. You wondered if Zayne knew that too, because he was looking at you with an expression of melancholy resignation, like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or devastated. 

Was indifference any better than fury?

When you stepped past him to head in the direction of the train station, he called out after you. "You shouldn't take the train this late."

You didn't stop walking. "I've done it before."

"You're exhausted."

"Shocking, considering I just completed a 17-hour shift looking after tiny humans with fevers and sticky fingers."

"I'll drive you."

You glanced at him over your shoulder skeptically. "What, is this some sort of attempt at penance?"

"No," Zayne countered. "It's common sense. You're swaying on your feet."

You opened your mouth for a retort, but he was right, and frankly, you were too tired to protest on principle. So with a small, muttered, "Fine," you followed him to the parking lot.

You said nothing as you slid into the passenger seat and let the warmth of the heater begin to soothe the ache in your muscles.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, five minutes later, the streetlights outside looked wrong.

"This isn't my route."

Zayne didn't look at you. "I'm taking you to dinner."

"I didn't consent to that."

"You got in my car, didn't you?"

You turned fully to glare at him. "Where are we going?"

He disclosed the name of your favourite late-night restaurant, the one with the golden stew and free barley tea.

"How did you—?"

"I know you haven't eaten all day."

"Have you been having my interns spy on me?"

"You can't be both sleep and nutrition deprived. I've bagged up bodies that had more vitality than you."

"Oh, so now we've moved on to insulting my appearance? How novel."

"You're not hideous," Zayne remarked absently. "You just look like a Victorian ghost that's been wandering the moors since 1852."

You made a strangled noise of indignation. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Well, you should start acting like it."

But you lacked your usual fire. Then your stomach betrayed you, growling so loudly it echoed through the silence of the car.

Zayne didn't say anything, but the way he glanced over at you with that annoyingly subtle twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth made your scowl deepen.

"...Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm not thanking you."

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said dryly, pulling into the familiar lot.

You rolled your eyes but stepped out when he opened the door for you, letting the smell of garlic, chilli, and warm rice overpower the urge to strangle him.

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour, only a few lingering patrons tucked into booths, and faint ballads played through the speakers like a lullaby. You sat across from Zayne, not quite looking at him, and the overhead light was dim enough to make everything feel like a dream viewed through steam.

The waitress didn't bother with menus because she knew your order. You'd been coming here ever since your residency days. She simply smiled and said, "The usual?" with a glance at you, then your companion, who gave a silent nod.

You watched her leave, then directed your attention toward him. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."

"You always get the same thing. Unless you've changed your mind in the last several years."

"And if I had?"

"Then I'd offer you mine."

That shut you up for a moment.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he confessed candidly. "To dinner."

"Then why are you trying so hard?"

"Because I miss you." His response startled even him because he immediately avoided your probing gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I miss..." He exhaled. "I miss your bad jokes. Your sugar bribes. The energy you bring into a room just by walking into it. I miss being someone who deserved all of that."

"Dr. Li...Zayne...what are you doing?"

Your use of his first name made his heart convulse in his chest, and he wondered with mild curiosity if he was having a heart attack. You tended to have that effect on him. "I'm trying to make things right."

You didn't have an answer for that, so you picked up your spoon and dipped it into your food that had just arrived. You let the warmth hit your tongue, sink into your bones, and settle somewhere deep inside the ache. This was easier than coming up with a response.

Across from you, Zayne stirred his bowl absently. For someone who dragged you here with such conviction, he wasn't eating much. You caught him glancing at you more than once, and each time, he looked away just as quickly.

Then he cleared his throat. "So, one of my interns fainted in the middle of a laparoscopic demonstration yesterday."

You blinked, surprised he was talking at all, let alone telling you stories.

"She nearly took down the anesthesia tray with her."

"Oh...is she okay?"

"She's fine. She may have forgotten to eat. Or breathe. Possibly both." A beat. "I told her if she ever wants to pull a stunt like that again, she has to warn me first so I can bill cardiology for Greyson's near heart attack."

You gave a reluctant huff of amusement, and he seized it like a drowning man to driftwood.

"And then, today, one of my residents presented a case that was very obviously plagiarized from a House episode. He even kept the ludicrous diagnosis."

"That's... dramatic."

"He said, and I quote, 'It's rare, but not impossible, Dr. Li.'" Zayne took a sip of water. "I told him so is being struck by lightning during a Sudoku competition. That doesn't mean it belongs on a discharge summary."

You snorted into your rice. He seemed pleased by that. As pleased as he ever looked, which wasn't much, but you saw the ease in his shoulders, and the faint wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It was odd, watching him do what you used to do. Filling the silences and stumbling awkwardly over attempts at connection. Sharing things he wouldn't normally bother to say out loud. You tried not to let it affect you.

Tried.

Zayne glanced at you again, then made a visible effort to keep going. "Someone else spilled an entire tray of empty vials. He dropped them while trying to open his pudding cup. I told him that's what he gets for eating like a five-year-old."

You smirked. "Dr. Greyson told me last year that you eat your sandwiches with a knife and fork."

Zayne didn't miss a beat, going along with your story just for the sake of hearing you talk. "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"You... what?"

"It's cleaner. You get an even distribution. No hand residue. Structural integrity is maintained throughout."

"That is the most unhinged thing I've heard in months."

"I'm a surgeon," he replied unapologetically. "I value precision."

"You're a monster."

"Possibly."

Another quiet moment passed, but this time it was companionable, warmed by broth and faint humour.

Zayne stirred his stew with mechanical precision, then said, with no real preamble, "Did I ever tell you about the time one of my interns tried to impress me by diagnosing a nosebleed as a sign of brain-eating amoeba?"

"...Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were."

"And what was your response, Dr. Li?"

"I told her that unless the patient had just returned from a stagnant swamp in the middle of winter, she was catastrophizing. Then I handed her a nasal spray."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You're such a menace."

"She handed in a ten-page write-up on amoebic encephalitis the next morning."

"I'm torn between horror and pride."

"Greyson said I should start charging tuition."

"As if you don't make enough money already."

"They're all chaos." He shook his head. "One of them showed up in inappropriate footwear during an OR rotation and asked if we were doing anything fun today."

You choked on your rice, and Zayne offered you a napkin without comment.

"Inappropriate footwear? Would that be high heels or Crocs?"

"I cannot recall exactly."

"God. That sounds like something you would've done back in school."

Your dinner companion looked offended at the insinuation. "I would never have disgraced myself that way."

"True. You were insufferably by-the-book."

"I still am."

"You are." You chuckled again, reluctantly. You hadn't laughed this much in months.

Worst of all, you didn't hate the way it felt. But you hated that you missed it. You hated how much you'd missed him. You had to remind yourself that he was just trying extra hard to alleviate his own guilt, not because he actually wanted you to feel better. But it was hard to question his sincerity when he looked at you so earnestly. To you, his eyes had always been his most mesmerizing feature, and now, when he trained them on you, unguarded and sincere, you felt your resolve start to crumble.

Despite the distance and the cruelty that still stung at the edges of your memory, the ache hadn't lessened. There was something so familiar about him, the way his stories came out stiff and slightly disjointed, like they'd been rehearsed. The way he glanced up between anecdotes to check if you were still listening.

"I also miss not being verbally assaulted every morning by my ravenous interns asking where the 'sugar fairy' went." He gave you a gentle smile, something a little more than the usual twitch of his lips, and you chugged your glass of water to drown the sudden influx of butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

You groaned. "I knew Dr. Greyson started that name."

"He did. But the students run with it like it's gospel. I overheard one say they were going to sacrifice someone to the snack deity if you didn't come back to our floor soon."

"And would that someone have been you?"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. You tried to smother it, but it bubbled up anyway. "Indeed, I would."

Zayne looked deeply, irritatingly satisfied, and you bit back another smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself enjoy it.

You were too tired to resist the lull of good conversation and an old friend tonight. Tomorrow, you could try to go back to hating him. Tomorrow, you would take your grudge by the hand, but today, you deserved to let go a little.

Eventually, he stopped talking, and you looked up to find him watching you intently. Almost reverently.

"...What?" you asked, warily. "Do I have rice on my face or something?"

He didn't respond.

"Seriously. What are you looking at?"

Zayne hesitated. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"What?"

"That thing I said. About you looking like a Victorian ghost."

"Oh?" Your lips quirked up wryly. "Do I look worse, then? Let me guess. Forest cryptid instead? Decrepit hag?"

Zayne didn't crack a smile or tease you back, and something fragile fluttered just beneath the surface of his gaze.

No. You look beautiful.

Even like this. Even in exhaustion with dark circles under your eyes and your hair messier than you probably realized. You were beautiful in the way late-night hospital lights made you glow. Beautiful in the way you had always cared, even for people like him, who never knew how to deserve it.

He hated that it had taken him this long to notice. Or rather, that it had taken him even longer to admit it to himself, but he would spend the rest of his days trying to find the right moment to say it aloud, to make you believe it. 

Today, however, was not the right moment, so he just wordlessly refilled your cup of water.

You didn't thank him, but you didn't push him away either.

For tonight, that was enough.

Taglist: @floofycookie @heartandeye @lanxianschoenheit @loverindeepspace @treeteaofversailles @ikesimpleton @mysticcauldronspire @69-gojos-wife-69 @nm4565natty @ciexuvia @jeonjenny @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgirlie7 @raethewargeneral @staarflowerr @eolivy @straykidslvr @lemurianmaster @preeyas-world @sillyfreakfanparty

Hope I didn't miss anyone ❤️

[iris-qt]

hiiii i have another request! it’s for tom riddle this time. i was hoping u could make a fanfic about tom showing y/n all of his snakes and just geeking out about them and she’s just listening to him and interacting with his snakes even though she’s very terrified of them

Don't Hiss & Tell

-> A/N: ily @kiaxika for this perfect request, i'd kiss your creative brain. MWAH

You would like the record to show:

You are not afraid of snakes.

Well. Not that afraid.

Okay, moderately afraid. The slithering. The scales. The tiny forked tongues flicking out like they’re plotting your doom. It’s all… a lot. But you are in love with Tom Riddle. Which is how you find yourself here: sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Slytherin common room at nearly midnight, while Tom gently lifts the lid off a large, suspiciously ventilated frosted glass crate.

“Ready?” he murmurs, voice low and crisp.

“Mm-hm,” you squeak.

He glances over, brows knitting slightly. “You’re… shaking.”

“I’m vibrating with enthusiasm,” you say. “Completely different.”

Tom pauses. His eyes, dark blue, intense, endlessly clever, scan your face, as though recalibrating every word he’s about to say. Then he lifts the lid the rest of the way. And out spills a tangle of scales and glittering eyes and delicate little flickering tongues. There must be at least half a dozen snakes in there. Some are coiled. One is bright green and eyeing you suspiciously. One loops gently around Tom’s wrist like a living bracelet.

“This is Aracelis,” Tom says, in a voice you’ve only ever heard him use when he tries to make you feel safe after a long day of exams. “She’s a tree viper from Costa Rica. Very sweet.”

Aracelis is not sweet. Aracelis is terrifying.

You force a polite smile. “So cute.”

Tom peers closer. “She’s actually quite affectionate, once she knows you. Watch.”

And before you can protest, he lifts the snake and gently drapes her across your shoulders.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“Tom—Tom—Tom—”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly, fingertips brushing your collarbone as he adjusts the viper’s position. “She’s affectionate. And she likes warmth.”

“Tom, I am also affectionate and like warmth. That doesn’t mean people should hang me around their necks.”

He huffs a soft laugh, eyes uncharacteristically glittering. “You’re being dramatic.”

The viper flicks her tongue against your jaw. You nearly black out onto the stone floor.

“She likes you,” Tom murmurs, sounding pleased.

“Super,” you choke out. “Love that journey for us.”

Tom leans in slightly, close enough that you can smell the faint hint of ink and old books clinging to his robes. His voice drops lower, conspiratorial:

“You know, they’re highly intelligent creatures. They remember faces. They can feel your mood.”

“I’m pretty sure mine’s terror right now.”

He smirks. “Yes. And yet you’re still here. That’s… admirable.”

Your eyes flick to his. Despite the snake currently coiling a little tighter around your neck, you find yourself softening.

“Why do you like them so much?” you ask quietly.

Tom goes still. His lashes lower a fraction, and for a heartbeat, he looks almost shy.

“They’re misunderstood,” he murmurs. “Everyone thinks they’re cold. Dangerous. But they’re… elegant. Precise. They’re quiet. They don’t waste energy on things that don’t matter. They know how to wait.”

You blink.

It’s the most words he’s spoken about anything personal in… ever.

“You know,” you say softly, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were describing yourself.”

Tom blinks. Once. Twice. Then he clears his throat and gently removes Aracelis from your shoulders, placing her back into the crate.

“Nonsense,” he says briskly, but his ears have gone a suspicious shade of red.

Before you can tease him further, a low, musical hissing fills the room. You freeze. Tom glances back at the crate and responds in a language that makes your skin prickle. Long, sliding syllables, quiet and smooth as silk. Parseltongue.

The snakes go still, all eyes fixed on him like he’s royalty.

“Are you… talking to them?” you whisper.

He looks over at you, a tiny, smug smile curving his lips. “Of course. They’re rather curious about you.”

“Oh, wonderful. What are they saying? That I look delicious?”

“Actually, Aracelis said you smell like vanilla.”

You gape. “Is… is that good?”

Tom tilts his head, eyes glinting. “She likes vanilla.”

You’re about to scream when he gently lifts another snake out of the crate, a pale golden one with a delicate diamond pattern along its spine.

“This is Callidora,” he murmurs, stroking the serpent’s back with feather-light fingers. “She’s a corn snake. She’s quite gentle.”

Callidora blinks slowly at you, tongue flicking out.

Tom tilts her toward your face. “She wants to say hello.”

“Oh God.”

Tom hisses softly again, a few quiet syllables that send the scales rippling along Callidora’s body. The snake slithers closer and gently bumps her nose against your cheek. You squeal. Tom laughs under his breath, a rare, genuine sound that makes your chest feel full and impossibly fragile.

“You’re so brave,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t patronize me, Riddle.”

He grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He carefully returns Callidora to the crate, then looks at you, quieter. “Thank you,” he says. “For… indulging me.”

You smile, heart pounding. “Next time, can we indulge me instead? Like, I dunno… kittens?”

Tom tilts his head, considering. “I suppose kittens would be… tolerable.”

And even though your knees are still trembling, and you can practically feel phantom scales brushing your skin, you lean forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You’re tolerable too,” you whisper.

Tom’s lips curve into the faintest, rarest smile.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

You grin. “Your secret’s safe with me. And Aracelis.”

Somewhere in the crate, a snake flicks its tongue.

[brokenbough]

Hear me out plsplsplspls new to 141 fem reader not interacting with the boys at all outside of missions like doesn't eat with them runs off somewhere else and when they confront her turns out she's just a social awkward loner who doesn't know how to talk to men (projecting)

Ofc! :)

--

Price picked his team. That was one of the few things he was in control of in this shitty, three-dimensional world. His team, his people.

Then... you came along. Shy, and socially awkward. Everything his team didn't need. Not to mention that you were a woman.

Now, Price wasn't one to discriminate, let alone on gender, he works with Laswell on almost every mission for God's sake, but your more than meek demeanor was just the icing on the toppling cake that you were.

He'd met you exactly once before letting you meet his boys (against his will of course), and it led him to one conclusion that he couldn't deny anymore:

You were soft. And soft got you killed in the field.

"This is the new Sergeant you're working with. Treat her uh... kindly." He says, short and clipped like he has somewhere better to be. He does. Many places in fact.

You nod to them, head held high, but mouth sewed shut with a tight jaw. You. Were. Sweating.

Someone clears their throat, the one with the mohawk. "W-welcome uh.. lass." He says, painfully Scottish. Cute though, you guess. "Soap." He says. Just his name. "Or- uh MacTavish if you.. want."

You nod to him specifically, hoping the pink isn't spreading up to your face. You don't say anything, turning to the one next to him.

Brown, cute too. Were they all this handsome? Jeez. You nodded to him as well and he raised his hand in silent greeting. "Gaz."

Then right behind him, leaned against the corner. You nodded to him as well, eyes focused on his chest. You saw the fabric move slightly; he nodded back.

You turn back to the captain, watching him nod again before dismissing the lot of you, except you of course.

You feel your blood rush before you sit down, watching the loose button on his shirt.

"Sir-- Captain." You correct, looking over and back.

He sighs like he doesn't want to talk, let alone talk to you. "I'm gonna be honest with ya. I don't want you here. I pick my team, not get stuck with... noobies who don't know a mag from a clip." He says.

"Uhm. Respectfully.. uh-- captain. We learn the difference in uh.. basic training. A-and I've been.. uh.. you know... deployed before. So... I'm sorry to be an inconvenience... but I'm not a stupid inconvenience." You explain politely, meeting his eyes for only a second, your leg bouncing under the table.

"Right." He exasperates. "Dismissed."

------------

You find yourself alone as usual, maybe your nose in a book at the library, or eating when the rest of the 141 wasn't around.

You figured if the captain didn't like you, his subordinates definitely won't. And even if they did, they wouldn't want a woman on their team, strong or weak. But you wouldn't waste your time trying to convince them of either, you'd just stick to yourself and shoot when needed. Watch their back when called for, but drink by yourself when the op ended.

Gaz, maybe even Soap would drop by your room when they went out, but you always declined, stuttering, face down, and just trying to get your door shut again.

They didn't know what the matter was, what was wrong with you. Soap was even taking offense to his people skills because he could not get you out of your shell.

"I mean-- most women are open- especially with me, yknow what I mean-- but seriously, I can't tell what makes her tick." Soap complains, leaning back into the seat of the local bar in Southern Mexico. Oaxaca.

"Maybe she just likes her alone time; like Ghostie over here." Gaz comments, patting Ghost on the shoulder, getting an disapproving grunt.

"Or maybe she doesn't like us, huh? I mean, some people have been less welcoming." Soap continues, eyes his captain.

"I don't do transfers. I pick my team." Price defends nonchalantly.

The group goes back and forth on how to get you out, plotting and planning on how to get you to have one drink with them, the ploys getting more and more deranged as the drinks flow.

"Cmon big man. Give at least one suggestion." Gaz slurs, rocking into his more than sober lieutenant.

He clears his throat, pushing his sergeant into his other. "You could always ask her what she wants."

"Women don't say what they mean, you know that." Price huffs.

"Don't knock it till ya try it Cap'n."

"And what do ye kno bout communicatin' Lt.?"

"Works better than you think." He deflects before dragging them all out and driving(scary I know)them back to base so they didn't stumble somewhere else.

He shows up at your door the next day while they-- sober-- conjure up more ideas on how to get you out, his tipping point being one of them suggesting pulling the fire alarm.

He leaves the room without a word, not that any of them noticed or cared, too caught up in planning. The walk to your room is silent, most soldiers outside doing PT. Despite Price wanting you in the women's barracks, he ended up letting you stay with them, their own private barracks near the back of the base.

He knocked on your door firmly, stepping back some to give you space when you opened up.

Your startled face and demeanor was nothing short of awkward. It makes him cringe inwardly, but he knows how it is.

"Oh-- l-lieutenant. Uh. Hi? Can I uhm... help you?"

"I'm here to help you." He says blankly, looking at you.

"Oh. Uh.... with what?" You ask.

He stands there for a while, mulling over his words and trying to lock eyes with you but can't. His whole read on you is just: nervous.

"Do I make you nervous sergeant?" He asks suddenly.

"Uh- wha-what? N-nervous? A lot of things m-make me nervous. Yknow, haha, like any other p-person." You squeak out, resisting the urge to close the door you are still hiding behind on your superior.

So, yes. He thinks to himself.

"Johnny and Gaz are planning on literally dragging you our your room to hang with them. Be advised." He says blankly before turning and leaving as you shut your door and melt into a puddle in your room.

------------

With these new warnings, you make it a point to avoid them at any cost, even after missions. Especially after missions.

You silently thank the lieutenant with each day you narrowly get caught before he's there and calling them off somewhere else. He never looks at you, or tells you that he's protecting you from them, but you can't help but think of him as your own personal guardian angel.

You find yourself in his vicinity more often now, whether in the library or gym at odd hours, and you can't help but appreciate his silence because the last time you guys talked off mission, you were a stuttering mess who didn't seem to know English.

An embarrassment to put it bluntly.

But now, with just him, you can relax in the library without having to worry about a conversation, or work out without someone asking what you're listening to. It's smooth sailing. Until it's not. Because, of course, the 141, one of the most elite squads in the world, pick up on this.

"You're stealing the lassie away." Soap accuses.

"No, I'm not." Ghost says amused.

"Ye are. Yer always together."

"No, we arent." He defends again with much amusement.

"You two were just in the library together." Gaz includes, taking Johnny's side.

"I was reading. She happen to be there too."

"Lies." Soap scorns.

"Maybe if you gave her space, she wouldn't hole up in 'er room. Ever think o' that?" Ghost questions.

"Well, no-- but that's not the point."

"That's the whole point MacTavish."

Soap only huffs, glaring at his lieutenant the rest of dinner.

---

Soap finally takes the hint to back off of you, instead waiting for you like a wounded animal. You make the grave mistake of trusting this... silent offering and find yourself in a loud bar with louder music surrounded by even louder and drunk men. Your worst nightmare.

Soap is speaking Scottish gibberish, Gaz is asking you a million drunken questions, Price is passed out in the seat, and your only safe place: Ghost, is gone. Maybe to the bathroom or to hopefully start up the car so you can leave.

"Cmoooon lass, telll mee your storryy." Gaz rumbles in your ear, brown skin glowing under the yellow light bulbs of the pub.

"I-I don't really have-- uhm. A story." You say, leaning back from the booze on his breath.

"Everyonnee haas a storyy.." He slurs, sure of himself.

"Sorry to uh.. disappoint. I guess you can't be right on everything, haha..." you say, wishing you drank so you could atleast forget this entire night.

Gaz only stares at you, finding your not so much of a joke not so funny.

"Sorry." You squeak, looking away.

------

The ride home is silent, save for Price's, Soap's, and Gaz's snores in the back seat. You were more than uncomfortable in the front seat with your lieutenant, tipsy enough to say to just call him Ghost.

You lied back in you seat, trying to curl up and away from the sleepy men.

"You should tell them you're an introvert." He suddenly says.

"The last time I talked to them, I got into this mess." You huff, not stuttering a word before realizing who you were talking to. "R-respectfully. Uh, sir-- lieutenant-- fuck, Ghost." You say quickly.

He let's out a soft chuckle and you feel your face heat up.

"Sorry." You mumble.

He only hums, tapping against the steering wheel.

Fortunately, you all get back to base in one piece, helping Ghost carry in the drunken men.

You two part once you finally have Gaz into his bed, tucking him in before quickly leaving, hoping he didn't wake up.

Goodnights are swapped between the two of you before you finally collapse onto your bed, vouching to never say yes to a night out again.

---------

They finally get the memo of you being an introvert when they don't see you for 3 whole days on base after the night in the bar. You've been avoiding them and they feel bad. They know now not to bombard you with... well.. them, before asking permission. They try to make the most of your boundaries but sometimes when you stutter whenever one gets too close is too cute to pass up on every now again.

Other than that, you've opened up a bit more, telling them-- indirectly-- that you don't have many friends and weren't sure on how you react with being thrown into a bunch you wanted to do as much. They also figure your shyness with them comes from not having many friends, and in turn, not talking to a lot of guys throughout your years.

------------

Hope you enjoyed, sorry its so long, idk how to write them short 🥲 sorry it also took me to long to write, I haven't really felt like writing nor knew how to go about this prompt

🖤🩶🤍

[cannofsardines]

Hii! This is my first time requesting so please bear with me and my sucky way to describe things :cry: I was wondering how Azure would react to a cryptid!reader? Like the reader is just this tall, monstrous creature that server wipes, but is pretty chill otherwise. You can make this platonic or romantic, either is fine! Sorry again if this doesn’t make any sense (╥﹏╥)

Azure with a GN!Cryptid Reader

:Don't worry, I understood your request well(or so I think.. this post will be the judge of that

:Can be taken as romantic or platonic , no solid label is placed as for anons req

:Boy oh boy, when Azure first laid their eyes on your form, they could admit they were left quite amused at the sight. Don't get him wrong, he was all for that monster-like features you inhabited, your unusually tall height that followed too which would've made you look out of place anywhere that wasn't in this realm but you were nothing far different from the rest of the other killers you all were forced to stay with. So he didn't entirely keep his interest on you, after all it's just your appearance he eyed

:But after observing you from afar in one match, and witnessing the survivors be wiped on the floor with little to no effort you used, it was easy to assume he was definitely now interested in you. Your strength was something he deeply admired, to the point he would stiffen by being near you or just even at the sight of YOU

'..Did they just wipe out all the survivors just like that? With little struggle?'

He took in your monstrous form carefully, in disbelief of what he had just witnessed mixed with something else in his expression. He most definitely needed to get to know you better, which he hoped was soon. Prayers muttered beneath his breath, a habit he definitely had to get rid of. But honestly? He was too enthralled with you to care, he'd do anything just to come across you and satisfy the unknown feeling he couldn't name

:The feeling wasn't out of fear, of course. More likely out of.. admiration, to which he only felt in such a long time ago. And the specter, nosy and curious obviously caught wind of this. Don't be surprised now, so being the annoying prick it usually was, it would tease Azure about it. Calling out to you whenever you pass by while Azure frantically silences it like a flustered mess

"HEy! a LiiTTLe bIRdiE tOLD me THIs gUYYY iS piNNING foR YOuuuu!1!1!1"

Azure's hat called out as usual, and before you was a flushed man who struggled to hold it together. It was always like this, both of your interactions initiated by the.. interesting being on his head. But you couldn't deny that the sight made you cackle even on a bad day, so you let yourself flash a smile towards the other killer who looked like he was wishing for the ground to consume him, now.

:That was the day he found out you were nothing like your appearance suggested you to be, intimidating, rude with a look that said 'go away' or screamed unfriendly. Well, yes he does see you behaving that way when you were with the survivors, but when no survivor was in sight you didn't seem to behave that way. It was the needed push he desperately looked for and he didn't waste the opportunity

:At first, there was a.. language barrier due to the fact that his mouth was zipped shut and his only form of verbal communication was the parasite that inhabited itself on top of Azure's head, though you didn't mind. The latter was easy to read from his open body language with you, like hands flailing when his hat spoke too much or when he deflated from your first interaction out of nervousness

:When you both get out of that stage, he was actually.. a nice company to be around. Nightshades blooming on his appendages whenever you did something that he considers 'impressive', though he would try to hide this to maintain his cool persona. Or so you presume from how he hides them immediately at the sight of the flowers

.

.

.

:Three requests to go,, If you're ever interested in placing a request then look forward to Friday, GMT time thing. I'll most likely open my requests box but no promises

[cheshireliam]

"Me and You, Always" Story Event: Silvio Ricci Chapter 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Emma: Prince Silvio?

I pulled Emma into my arms, trapping her and that oddly intense enthusiasm for gathering autumn greens.

Silvio: Before I waste my time humorin’ yer little game, ya better come clean with it.

Silvio: Same with summer, what’re ya really up to?

Emma: … I just wanted to see a new world I’ve never seen before.

Silvio: Still plannin’ to keep it a secret?

Emma: … 

Silvio: If that’s how ya wanna play it, I’ve got my own ways to make ya talk. 

(Didn’t wanna resort to this, but I ain’t got no choice.)

Holding onto her with one arm, I slid my other hand to her side—

And started tickling Emma mercilessly, her composure shattering in an instant as she thrashed about.

Emma: W-wait…! Stop— haha…! 

Silvio: What was that? Can’t hear ya.

Emma: Ahaha… stop… I’m going to die laughing!

Silvio: Ya know what ya gotta say if ya want me to stop, don’t ya?

(Can’t believe Valerio’s old secret tactic actually works on you too.) 

It was childish and underhanded, even I was embarrassed about it, but it was also undeniably effective. 

Emma: I’ll talk…! I’ll talk, so please…!

Seeing tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, I stopped, but kept my hand resting on her waist so that she wouldn’t bolt off.

Emma: I want to train.

Silvio: Train for what? 

Emma: So that… I’ll be able to join you on your voyages some day.

(Huh?)

Silvio: What the hell for…? 

Emma: Because it's my dream.

Emma: If I could travel together with you and return to the kingdom with great treasures… 

Emma: I just know that would be the greatest, most valuable treasure in my life nothing else can replace. 

(... So that’s what’s been in her head.)

Without realising it, a small smile tugged at my lips, and my arm tightened its hold on her. 

Silvio: Ya needed to hide that?

Emma: … I didn't have the confidence to tell you.

Emma: I have neither knowledge nor experience in sea voyages, so I thought I’ll only end up being a burden. 

Emma: That’s why I wanted to train and learn lots of things…

Emma: Until someday, you’ll feel like you could take me along with you.

Emma: I didn't want you to laugh at me either.

Silvio: I ain’t laughin’.

(If it were any other woman, I’d probably laugh in her face, but I’ll never do that to ya.) 

Going on sea voyages could easily go horribly wrong if anything bad were to happen.

If it were a short trip, sure it could be a noblewoman's little joy ride.

But the farther you want to go, the more preparation and guts you would need. 

(Still, you’re still the only noblewoman around who’d try learnin’ to set up a camp herself.)

(Most of em’ just leave that stuff to others and don’t lift a damn finger.) 

I almost said those words aloud, but decided to swallow them.

It didn't feel right to say things that’d trample all over her determination.

So instead of mocking her, I reached out and ruffled her hair.

Emma: You’re making it messy again!  

Silvio: Shut up. That’s yer punishment for hidin’ stuff from me.

Silvio: … Let’s go.

Emma: Huh? 

Silvio: Ya wanna learn how to gather mountain greens, don't ya?

When I let go of her and started walking, her face lit up so obviously as she hurried to catch up with me. 

Emma: And how should I thank you this time?

Silvio: Anythin’ is fine. But if ya start gettin’ all cocky again, I ain’t teachin’ ya nothin’. 

Emma: I’ll be sure to stay humble and do my best. 

(Now that I know what’s been goin’ through that head of yers, I’ll give ya a hand.) 

(It’s this side of ya that I—) 

(Nah, forget it. I’d just end up gettin’ laughed at myself.) 

…

Autumn flew by in the blink of an eye, and now came the cold winter. 

(... Still feelin’ like I’ve lost my damn mind.) 

(I should just change it, even if I’m only doin’ it now.) 

(But… she’s the kind of woman who’d be happier with somethin’ like this than a precious gemstone.)

(I know that. I know, but damn it, this is insane.)

(Somethin’ like this for a christmas present…) 

???: Where are you going, Prince Silvio? 

(...!)

I stopped in my tracks and forced the discomposure off my face before turning around. 

Seems like I’d walked right past the room I was headed for, and Emma was peeking out from behind the door with her head tilted. 

Emma: Are you not done with work yet…?

Silvio: … I’m done. 

Silvio: I just, uhh… forget somethin’ and need to go grab it, that's all. 

Emma: Ah, then I’m sorry for stopping you.

Emma: I couldn’t help but open the door when I heard some jangling, but I’ll be good and wait patiently. 

Silvio: … Be back in a sec. 

Emma gave a small wave and closed the door. 

I quickened my walking pace to avoid making any noises she might hear, but I couldn't contain the big sigh I almost let out. 

(The hell am I even doin’?)

…

A lavish feast worthy of a christmas dinner filled the table, and Emma was all smiles throughout the dinner. 

Only after she finished the last bite of cake did she finally set down her cutlery. 

I was thinking the dinner ended peacefully, but I had a bad feeling the instant Emma locked her eyes onto mine.

Emma: Are you hiding something, Prince Silvio?

Silvio: Hah? What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout all of a sudden?

Emma: You’ve been fidgeting the entire time.

Silvio: I ain’t. It’s all in yer head. 

Emma: You know you can’t fool these eyes of mine. 

(... She’s weirdly sharp when it comes to times like this.)

Emma stood from her seat and moved behind me—. 

[thenexusofsouls]

Xenos was reassured by Wanda's confidence that she'd be alright if she had to hold off the sorcerer to allow him to escape. That made him feel a lot better about potentially being around the man, if he had a powerful ally willing to step in if things went awry. "Hope... it never happens," he agreed with her. "But... thank you. You... are making me... feel... very safe, Wanda." He held his hands flat over his heart and bowed a little to her in gratitude.

Oh, this was so wonderful. The soft, safe touches they were exchanging. The sweet words they were saying to each other. Why couldn't all interactions with humans be as positive and comforting? Xenos supposed it was because most humans weren't as extraordinary as Wanda. "You too... deserve... happiness," he insisted. "Would like... to help... make you happy. Love... seeing... your smile," he admitted.

When she asked how he felt about hugs, his general answer would have been that he preferred to keep distance between himself and others, but... in just a short time, he'd become so comfortable with Wanda. He was already touching her and letting her touch him far more than he had with anyone else in centuries. Although it would still be intense, and new, and a lot, Xenos felt that he would like to hug Wanda. "Too much... con-... connection... with others... but not... with you. Willing to try... with you," he replied.

As they tried this tentative hug of theirs, Xenos felt so many things at once. She was warm, and that was very pleasant against his own coolness. He wasn't cold, but he wasn't as warm as a normal human either. It was as if he'd gone outside in chilly weather without a shirt on, and when he came back inside, his skin still carried a bit of that chill along with it. Except, perhaps notably, in core areas, such as his the center of his chest and around his heart and-... well, another decidedly more private location. Those two places, for whatever reason, seemed to be where his energy concentrated the most, with the exception of perhaps his brain, and so they were the warmest areas. Perhaps it had to do with circulation, chakras, how his incorporeal spirit bonded with his human body, or some other metaphysical reason as to why those areas were energetically more active, but Xenos was entirely unaware.

"So soft... and warm..." he whispered as he held her, gently lifting his arms to hug her back, though he was careful not to hug too tightly. She should have a right to back away from him if she wanted to, just as much as she was giving him that option himself. "Not used... to touch... that feels good... and happy," he said, sounding as though he was getting a little choked up.

- - - - -

"You're... making me want to keep an eye on Wanda too, you know," said Strange, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Steve's description of the inexperience and volatility of Wanda's powers. But maybe that did mean she could be a check on Xenos' own power, and hopefully keeping them both happy for the time being would at least buy time to prepare for the worst. He frowned at Steve's comment. "Full offense taken, don't worry," he said, though he was partially joking. "It's probably just a type of magic I'm not used to working with. I'll have to do some more research to see if I can match the energy type."

"Is that possible?" Tony asked.

Stephen blinked. "No, I just said I would try to do it because I like wasting my time with impossible tasks," he deadpanned.

"Oh, hey, cool, me too!" Tony said, holding his hand up as if to fist-bump him.

Stephen left Tony hanging, but he was at least on board with letting Wanda and Xenos have their little conversation and then seeing what, if any, information either one of them was willing to share... and going from there. "Alright, I'll check in a bit later." With that, he was gone.

Tony smirked at Steve's comment regarding his suit. "Well, yeah, I guess I could fly the panels up onto the walls, but you and I both know that would end with my head rammed right through the ceiling and a pile of severely damaged and unusable panels. Or... you could just help me lift them up the old fashioned way. C'mon, I thought you loved old fashioned stuff?" he teased right back, patting Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, we should hurry. Shouldn't take too long to get everything set up."

what are you afraid of? (Xenos)

Xenos should never have come this close to this developed of a human city. Even wandering the suburbs of New York City had been a trial for him, with car horns blaring, people yelling, and a sense of too many things moving around him all at once. But once he'd reached deep into the city, he knew he'd made a mistake. There was a stark lack of awareness from the people walking around him. Some bumped into him without warning while others simply seemed to have no spatial awareness whatsoever. There were even more car horns, and more yelling, and Xenos felt his chest tightening from the stress of it all.

Soon, he couldn't breathe, and try as he might to get out of there, it seemed the more he walked, the deeper into the city he embedded himself. "Back!" Xenos shouted to someone who had bumped into him hard, pushing him away with one of his hands.

"Hey man, screw you!" the human said to him as he kept on walking.

He hadn't realized that he'd wandered into a roadway until he was almost hit by a car. It screeched to a halt and Xenos lifted his hands to cover his ears as the sound of the car's horn blared so loudly he thought he would die. "Get away!" he yelled, and it happened. His magic lashed out, creating a dome of isolation around him, encompassing the entire block. Everything went silent, for he'd removed all the humans from within the dome, leaving them outside its invisible border. Inside, he left the animals and insects for they did not bother him, but the cars, trucks and buses were now uninhabited, turned off, still.

The silence was wonderful, and he felt the tension begin to release him. The dome's barrier kept out the sounds of the surrounding city, as well as those of the angry and confused humans who had been moved from their vehicles, or who could no longer pass down the street because of the invisible barrier. While Xenos paced back and forth in the middle of the street, slowly calming himself, people outside the dome where already calling emergency services and police, angry and scared by what had occurred.

The Avengers were called in.

Xenos moved inside a building, where it was dim and peaceful, taking deep breaths as he slowly wandered around. This was better. Much better. He didn't care or even realize the disruption he'd just caused within a major human city.

Outside, people were telling tales of a strange man who had somehow made invisible walls in the city, not fully understanding what all had happened. When the Avengers arrived, they were met with a large block of New York City that looked... empty, uninhabited. Cars left abandoned, doors to buildings left open. It looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse... but where were the zombies?

Steve couldn't punch through the wall. Tony's repulsors couldn't penetrate it either. They couldn't even see what it was they were trying to knock down. But not all members of the team were as hindered by the magical barrier as the rest...

Xenos knew the moment someone had entered the dome, and he twitched with the sensation of his magic being disturbed. Perplexed, for this had never happened before, he walked to the door of the building and peered out. A human was there... but how? No human should be able to defy his magic. None ever had before. He watched her from afar for a bit, until it seemed that she was, either intentionally or inadvertently, headed right for him. Did she know he was there? No, no, she could not. Humans lacked such senses, he knew, especially in this time. The sorcerers of old were all but gone from the world now, or... or at least Xenos hadn't encountered any for a very long time.

Slowly, he stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk, his body tilting awkwardly to the right as his head did the same, as though he was trying to size her up and see her better. When she spoke to him, he recoiled suddenly from the sound of her voice. He didn't take steps back from her, but rather only leaned back, his head snapping backward a bit as a dog or cat might do if they were startled while curiously trying to get the scent of something. He thought about her words for some time before responding.

"Not afraid," he said, but his voice was barely there. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to anyone to any real capacity, and his voice suffered from a lack of use. He didn't think it was loud enough for communication purposes, so he tried again. "Not... afraid." Xenos put up his hand almost as if he was making a wait a minute motion with it, but moved it up and down, as though pressing some imaginary buzzer in the air, his fingers outstretched. He was merely thinking of the right word, his head turning this way and that like the word might suddenly be floating in the air somewhere he could see. "Overwhelmed," he finally decided upon. "The city is... too much." His hands found his head and he swayed a bit, as thought he was in pain. "So I have expelled it... from this space." He then made a pushing away motion with both his hands, moving them out from his body.

But then Xenos' head tilted again, his face obscured by the draping hood of his long coat. "How...?" he asked, pointing back in the direction she came. "How... did you enter?"

[joonebugg]

As a selfshipper I absolutely cannot take it seriously. Like wdym I like this guy who is a absolutely terrible person? And he's nice to me? Yeah actually, and we're in love and queer as hell

[gt-daboss]

GT Writing/Reading Question

Ive been writing GT stories for some time now, and reading them for much much longer, so I'm curious what the consensus of this topic is (my opinion and reasons in the tags if you're curious)

[solaceofthestarz]

ai art isn't better than real art, because art isn't about being good

[bellhopping]

you know slightly related to me reblogging a buncha old stuff but honestly as someone who's been on social platforms for a decent amount of time, my only piece of advice is that honestly it's not really worth it to worry about why someone might've blocked you tbh.

like even if you could be the most perfectest person in the world 100% of the time, at some point a person you like will take a look at your blog or see a post of yours & just decide they don't like you. it obviously sucks but also isn't your fault most of the time, that's just kinda how existing in the wider internet is sometimes; best thing to do is just move on & not really think about it too much imo

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it���s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[spidercat2099]

I feeeeel like Nanami wouldn't notice you flirting with him until someone brought it up.

He'd just be at his desk working on some project when the guy who sits next to him is like "So are you guys a thing yet?" right after you leave a coffee at Kento's desk.

He'd be like "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon dude, she's obviously into you."

"She's just very friendly." He'd respond, not thinking too much about it.

"Just to you?" The guy would ask, letting the question linger for a second before returning to his computer.

His eyebrows furrow slightly and the gears begin to turn. You were a bit touchy, always ensuring there wouldn't be loose threads or dust on his nice suit. You always asked if he ate, how his day was, and if he'd like a coffee. He would've kept thinking that it was just you being friendly if he hadn't realized that you hardly make an effort to do all those things for any other worker.

"I should ask her out then. She is pretty cute." The guy would say, more to himself than Kento. But if what he said was true, Kento would not like the idea of the other guy asking you out first. He had to know.

So, he'd get off the clock just a bit earlier that day. Just as you were getting up from your desk, you'd see a large figure loom over you. "Hey, I was just about to say goodbye." You'd say, surprised he made the first move to see you for once.

"Miss y/n. Have you been flirting with me?" He'd ask bluntly. He'd see no reason to skirt around it, he had to know if he was truly missing all these signals.

You'd chuckle, a bit flistered by the sudden question as you pack your papers. "Well... just a bit. I hope it doesn't offend you."

Kento would pause, confused as to why you weren't more upfront about it. But at the same time, he realized you were probably very obvious if the guy next to him noticed it. He was just oblivious. "Offend me?" He'd ask, unsure of how it could possibly be offensive.

"Yeah." You'd shrug. "It's fine if you don't feel the same. I still wanna be friends."

"I didn't say I don't feel the same." He'd shut down that idea quickly. "I just hadn't thought of our interactions that way. I thought you were simply being friendly."

You'd laugh softly, now in a more amused way. You thought he was brushing you off this entire time to let you down easy. "I appreciate that you think I'm that nice."

"So, to be clear, you've been flirting and you like me. Is that correct?" He'd just have to make sure there was no other way to take it.

"Yes." You'd laugh again. His eyes would widen. He didn't think someone could like him out of all people. He always thought he was too boring, too unemotional, too uncaring. But you... you were so sincere in your feelings for him, that he wouldn't be able to doubt it. He'd realize how your laugh made his heart skip a beat. He'd know he didn't wanna waste time.

"Then... would it be right to assume you'd say yes to a date with me?"

You'd pause. "You're... asking me out?"

He'd simply nod. "I would like to take you out."

You'd clear your throat. You didn't think you actually had a shot with him, but it's presenting itself. "I would like that too."

[deansbeer]

BITE YOUR TONGUE OR USE IT BETTER.

꒰ . ⋮ minors do not interact .ᐟ ֹ ꒱

༝༚༝༚ synopsis. a heated argument quickly ends up in a fight for dominance in bed.

༝༚༝༚ warning(s). smut | mild angst | arguing | fem!reader | rough sex | make-up sex | dom!jason | switch dynamics | light choking | spanking | oral (fem!receiving) | cowgirl position | dirty talk | possessiveness | praising | degradation | jealousy.

༝༚༝༚ kari notes. i NEED him viscerally & i know i previously announced that i was taking a writing break 👀 but i'm making an exception for jason hehehehe u can also thank bree for being the inspo behind the idea <3

it starts with something small — it always does.

a passing comment. a bitter tone. one look too long at someone else. and then it's wildfire.

you're yelling, he's yelling louder. the walls of the apartment echo with the sharp slap of words neither of you really mean but throw anyway, like knives meant to miss but still cut too deep.

"you think i don't notice?" jason's voice is hoarse from the way it's been rising for the past fifteen minutes. "the way you play it off like i don't matter the second someone else gives you attention?"

you scoff, arms crossed, standing your ground in the kitchen, your chest heaving with frustration. "oh, fuck you, jason. you're the one who disappears for days without a text and then gets mad when i talk to someone else."

"i'm out risking my ass to make this city better—"

"and i'm supposed to just sit here and wait? maybe light a candle and pray you'll actually come home in one piece?"

his jaw tightens, blue eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with quick, angry breaths. "don't twist this. you know i care. you know i fuckin' love you."

"then stop acting like i'm the enemy," you snap, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

there's a beat of silence. a long one. your eyes lock with his, and the air between you could spark if it tried. you're both breathing hard, adrenaline still pulsing, and then—

he moves. and he's quick.

his hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you in, lips crashing into yours with a fury that steals the breath from your lungs. it's not gentle — it's claiming. demanding. your fingers fist in his shirt before you even realize what's happening, your anger bleeding into desire so fast it makes your head spin.

"you drive me fuckin' crazy," he growls against your mouth, backing you into the wall. "always got a smart ass mouth. always testing me."

"maybe you like the idea of being tested," you breathe, tugging his shirt up, fingers dragging across his pudgy stomach. "you keep showing up for it."

he growls, low and rough, grabbing your thighs and lifting you with ease. your legs wrap around his waist, caged between his body and the wall, and you gasp as he grinds against you, already hard through the fabric of his jeans.

"you gonna continue being so mouthy?" he hisses against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you whimper. "or you want me to shut you up?"

"try me," you taunt, breathless, already soaked for him.

he carries you to the bedroom like he's got something to prove. maybe he does. throws you down onto the bed, pulls your shirt over your head, strips you down in seconds. his hands are rough, greedy, claiming every inch of your skin like it belongs to him.

joke's on him. it does.

he drops to his knees between your thighs, spreading them wide with a look that could bring you to your knees if you weren't already trembling. jason doesn't waste time, just dives in like he's a man starving, tongue licking a stripe up your slit before his lips wrap around your clit.

you cry out, hips bucking, and he grips your thighs tighter, holding you down.

"that's it," he mutters against your pussy, voice dark and wrecked. "take it. fuckin' take it, baby girl."

your fingers tangle in his dark hair, tugging, and he groans like he likes it — like the pain only spurs him on. he eats you until your hips are trembling, until you're gasping his name like a prayer and pushing at his shoulders, too sensitive to take more.

"jason—please—need you inside me."

he pulls back, lips shiny, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s just finished a meal. "yeah, you do. pussy's soakin' the damn sheets. so fuckin' desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

you glare at him, flushed and breathless. "you're one to talk."

he climbs over you, dragging his cock against your inner thigh, hot and heavy. "you want control so bad, huh, baby?" he murmurs, hand wrapping around your throat, thumb brushing your jaw. "you'll get it. but not yet."

then he's inside you. one deep, punishing thrust, and your whole body arches, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stretches you full. his hand tightens at your throat just enough to make your pulse race harder.

"fuck, you're tight," he groans, hips slamming into you. "always so fuckin' tight for me."

you moan, nails dragging down his back, and he hisses, grinding deeper, chasing the spot that makes your toes curl.

he fucks you like he's trying to erase the fight, like he's trying to remind you who you belong to. every thrust is rough, precise, his mouth dragging along your throat, your shoulder, biting and kissing the skin like he needs to mark you.

"fuckin' mine," he growls into your ear. "say it."

"yours," you gasp, legs wrapped tight around his waist. "all yours, jay. always."

he groans, the sound deep and raw, and kisses you like he means to ruin you. and you want him to.

you flip him before you even realize what you're doing — legs slipping around him, pushing him back, riding the wave of heat and fury and need. his eyes darken as you slide down onto him, slow and deliberate.

"oh, fuck," he mutters, hands gripping your hips. "you think you're in control now, huh?"

"i don't think," you whisper, rolling your hips so slow he trembles. "i know."

you ride him hard, fast, chasing your own high with reckless abandon. his hands grip you tight, dragging you down harder, matching your rhythm until the room’s filled with the sound of skin on skin, your moans tangled with his gasps.

"look at you," he groans, eyes locked on where your bodies meet. "bouncin' on my cock like you need it to breathe."

you lean in, kiss him messy, filthy, all teeth and tongue.

"maybe i do."

his cock twitches inside you and you feel him getting close, but you don't stop. you fuck him through it, chasing your own orgasm, using his body like it was made for you. only you.

"gonna cum," he growls, thrusting up to meet you. "you better cum with me, baby girl."

you nod, breath hitching as your body tightens, pleasure coiling until it snaps, and you cry out his name as you fall apart, clenching around him like a vice.

he follows with a broken groan, hips jerking, spilling deep inside you as he holds you down, buried to the hilt.

you collapse against him, both of you shaking, panting, sweat-slicked and utterly wrecked.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close even as he's still inside you. his lips press against your temple, his voice rough but soft now.

"still mad at me?" he murmurs.

you laugh, breathless, nuzzling into his neck. "yeah."

he huffs, fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. "next time we fight, can we skip to the part where you ride me like that?"

you smile, eyes fluttering shut. "not a fucking chance."

he chuckles, kisses your hair, and pulls you closer.

"figured."

and even though the fight still lingers in the air, tangled in the sheets and the bruises you both left behind, so does something else, something steady and real.

him.

you.

and the fire that always brings you back together.

@ deansbeer is tagging you .ᐟ @titsout4jackles @daylighted @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @blue-d @bluemerakis @stereotypicalbarbie @funkycoloured @fuckedupfate ╱ wanna be added? join my taglist <3