#got my jab so I can’t complain!

[dylobilysmomg]

Motel Fever

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟯.𝟭𝗸

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪! 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗽𝗻𝘃, 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗢𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁: 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗜𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗗𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻’𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲. 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴! 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀!) 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗡𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗟𝘂𝘃 𝘆𝗮!!

𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳!

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan from beside Allison, taking a look at the disaster coach calls a motel.

“I’ve seen worse.” Scott says, and I scoff. “Where have you see worse?” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. I pull my jacket closer to my body, trying to shield myself from the wind the storm brings.

The track team circles up as Coach speaks up. “Listen up! The meet’s been pushed til tomorrow.” There’s a groan that comes from just about all of us in unison at that. “This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of…degenerates like yourselves. You’ll be pairing up, choose wisely.”

Me and Allison walk up and grab a key from Coach, checking out the number and practically stomping to our room. Scott and Stiles close behind us.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” Coach shouts as everyone makes their way to their rooms for the night.

“I can’t believe this. How much you wanna bet we wake up to a cancelled track meet tomorrow.” I complain, approaching our motel room, which is oh so conveniently right next to Scott and Stiles’ 𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘦���𝘵.

I stop at the door, waiting for Allison to unlock it, but she’s taking her sweet time chatting it up with Scott. Stiles whips past me, brushing my shoulder.

“Hey Stiles, will you and Scott do me a favor and keep the moans down tonight. I would rather not listen to you two get in on while I get my beauty sleep.” I taunt him, leaning against the door, burning time while I wait for Allison.

Stiles halts his actions of unlocking his door to turn to me, “Didn’t you hear the coach, Y/N? ‘𝘕𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.’ Or is that word too big for you? Need me to dumb it down?” He jabs and I scoff in his face.

“Oh I heard him all right. I just wonder if you did.” I counter, watching as he scoffs, tongue poking out to glide over his teeth.

“We’ll be quiet, Y/N/N. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep; God knows you need it.” He says, and before I can come up with a comeback, Allison is coming up behind me and unlocking our door.

Scott passes us both and bypasses Stiles into their room, “Sleep tight, Y/N.” Stiles sneers before disappearing behind Scott.

I join Allison in our room, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I hope you don’t kick in your sleep, or someone’s gonna sleep on the floor tonight and it won’t be me.” I say, looking at the single bed in the middle of the dreary room.

“About that…” Allison says, her face already completely giving away what she’s about to tell me.

“Allison,” I warn her, and she trots in front of me with pleading eyes. “Would you do me a huge, huge favor and switch with Scott tonight?” She begs, and I’m completely and utterly in shock.

“You cannot be serious. You want me, to share a room, a 𝘣𝘦𝘥, with 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴?!” I try to wrap my head around the idea of having to survive a night with Stiles Stilinski. Yeah right, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

“Yeah, no, no way in hell!” I shout, hands flailing in the air. “Have you even met me?!” I ask, baffled that she’d even think that I’d ever agree to such a thing. “I mean? have you even met Stiles?! I can’t stand him for more than a few seconds, let alone hours!” I exclaim.

“Then don’t stand him, sit on him instead.” Allison says, the tone in her voice suggestive. I scoff, “Yeah right, me and Stiles? Never in a million years.” I say, the idea completely out of the question.

“Oh come on, Y/N! You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife! You guys just need to fuck and make up.” Allison tries to convince me, and I’m trying to deny the pit in my stomach that tells me she might be right.

“Allison you’re crazy. There’s no tension between Stiles and I.” I answer, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, Y/N! Please, please, pleaseeeee!” She begs, not backing down.

I groan out, “Alright! Alright! But you owe me big time for this.” I finally give in, and Allison pounces onto me to give me a tight hug.

“Y/N you won’t regret this, I’m texting Scott now.” She says giddily, and I change into my pajamas while we wait for Scott.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock at our door, and I open it to reveal a just-as-giddy Scott McCall. “Y/N,” He greets me with a tight lipped smile. “Scott.” I answer, brushing passed him and out the door.

It’s dark, rainy, and cold outside. I stand in front of Stiles’ motel room, shivering in my pajama shorts and matching t-shirt. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Still nothing.

“Stiles I know this isn’t the most pleasant arrangement but it’s freezing outside, please let me in.” I plead, my teeth chattering. Still nothing. Nothing but the howling of the wind and the drops of rain.

I sigh, sliding my back down against the door, sitting down on the cold cement. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver.

Then suddenly, the door is pulled open without warning and I look up to see a half naked Stiles. “What’re you doing?” He asks, looking down at me as I scurry up and onto my feet. “Waiting for you to let me in, dumbass. It’s cold out here.” I chatter, pushing past his naked upper half and into the room.

The room is ice cold, not any better than outside in the elements. Stiles rolls his eyes coming back into the room and locking the door behind him.

I turn to him to ask why the heater isn’t on when he beats me to it. “Yeah, well, the heater is broken to shit so it’s not much better in here.” He answers my unspoken question. I shake my head, sitting on the bed, head in my hands. “This cannot be happening right now.” I complain, more to myself than Stiles.

“You wanna complain some more, Y/N? Since you’re so good at it.” He jabs, padding to his bag, digging through it. I scoff in response, and it’s then that I look up and take real notice of him frame. 𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, pulling me out of my daze. “Whatever, get some other desperate girl to be your paparazzi.” I reply, digging into my bag for my phone charger, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Stiles goes into the dinky bathroom to change, coming out to me huffing and puffing. “What is it now?” He asks irritated, emerging from the bathroom in plaid pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt. “I think I left my fucking charger at home.” I groan, checking my phone percentage. 12%

He chuckles, getting snuggled into the single bed and plugging his phone in, rubbing it right in my face. He turns his phone to the side, putting on some tv show. I grab my bag off the bed and drop it to the floor, “Make some room will you?” I push his feet from above the covers, and he scoots a millimeter to the side.

I curse under my breath, jumping into the bed and shoving him over some as he watched his phone. “Jeez, Y/N/N. If you wanted to get in bed with me that bad you should’ve just said so.” Stiles quips, and I pull at the cold blanket to cover myself.

“Oh please, get over yourself. You’re the last person I’d ever want to be in bed with.” I roll my eyes, getting out my phone to distract myself from him until it inevitably dies.

We’re laying shoulder the shoulder. He’s holding up his phone as he watches Supernatural, and before long my phone is dead.

I set my phone on the nightstand to my right, then turning over to lay on my left side and watch his show. My face is millimeters away from his broad shoulder, and he turns his head to me, peering down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, attention split between me and the phone. “My phone died, and I like Supernatural.” I say, my eyes flick from the screen to him.

“You like this? Scott hates it.” He says, turning his face back to his phone. Is he starting a normal conversation with me? What universe is this?

“Of course Scott hates it, he hates all things 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭.” I say, wiggling magic fingers in his face. He chuckles, “Yeah, guess it’s too close to home for him. I like it though, I like to think we’re like them.” He says, comparing him and Scott to Sam and Dean.

“So which one are you? Sam or Dean?” I ask, giggling. “Which one do you think I am?” Stiles ponders, his attention fully turned toward me by now. “Definitely Sam,” I answer confidently, “he’s my favorite.” I add, my eyes suddenly avoiding his own.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Stiles breaks it. “Awe, so you like me more than Scott?” He pokes fun at me, and I roll my eyes. “In your dreams, Stilinski. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you unless the situation was dire.” I counter, rolling over to my back, his phone long forgotten.

He turns it off, setting it on the nightstand on his side. “See that’s where you’re wrong.” He says, and the tone in the chilly room shifts. He sits up to almost hover over me. His face the closest it’s ever been to mine, and I can’t help but flicker my eyes from his to his lips and back again.

“I think you wanted this. I think you want me.” He says, voice huskier and hushed. “Stiles…” I can’t think of a witty response, I can’t think about anything besides his lips, and how impossibly close they are to my own.

“Say it. Tell me, Y/N.” He demands, a veiny hand dipping under the covers to slink down my thigh. My mind is running a hundred miles a minute, short circuiting.

“Awe, fuck it.” I whisper, more to myself than him, closing the gap between us. Our lips connect in a searing kiss, and my hands shoot up to his neck, pulling him down to me.

He growls into my mouth, moving to now completely hover on top of me, my legs instinctively opening to make room for him. His arms prop himself up over me, and my hands explore his body, moving to slide up and under his shirt. I slowly push up his shirt til his sits up, pulling it off in one swoop.

He’s so fucking hot. My hands dance along his slightly defined abs, speckled like his face. “Like what you see?” He taunts, leaning back down over me to assault my neck with his lips. “Oh, bite me.” I snip, and he nips at my throat in response.

Stiles trails his nimble fingers up my shirt, but I stop him, pushing his chest until he’s off of me. I push him over to his back, straddling his waist to be on top. I settle myself into his lap, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I pull my shirt up and off my body, revealing myself to him. The cold nips at my now half naked frame, nipples perking up and gossebumps cover my body.

I shiver a little, “It’s so cold in here, Stiles.” I whisper, and he snakes a hand up my waist and all the way up to my neck, pulling my face down to his. “Don’t worry, baby,” He whispers seductively, “I’ll warm you up.”

Our lips meet once again, tongues fighting for dominance. I grind down into his lap, his boner prominently poking me beneath his pants. He moans deliciously into my mouth as I do so, hands slipping into my shorts, groping my ass.

I moan as he rocks me in his lap, “God, why did we wait so long for this?” I whispers, looking up at me with those auburn eyes. “Because we hate each other.” I answer breathlessly.

“I could never hate you, baby.”

Then he’s forcefully pushing me back over, hands dipping into the waist band or my sleep shorts, pulling them and my panties down in one go. He places a palm on each of my knees, spreading my legs apart. I’m now fully bare and at his mercy.

I moan in anticipation as he methodically kisses up my thigh, getting close and closer to my dripping heat. He then brings a finger to swipe through my folds, my slick covering his digit as it glistens. “All this and I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunts me.

“Stiles please,” I beg, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. “Please what? Use your words.” He says huskily. “Please Stiles, please touch me.” I plead.

Stiles licks a stripe through my folds, sending shivers sound my spine. His mouth attacks my heat, his tongue working wonders. Stiles is like a starved man, feeding on anything and everything he can get his hands on. Feasting upon me. He sends me over the edge almost immediately. My hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair til my knuckles turn white.

Stiles detaches his lips from my clit, sitting up to his knees and standing up off the bed. He drops his pajama pants to the ground, before zipping over to his bag to retrieve a condom from it. He rushes back over to the bed, pulling his boxers off in an instant, kneeling onto the bed in front of you as he rolls the condom into his think length.

My fists grip the bed covers, watching as he lines his swollen tip with my entrance, teasing me with it. “Stiles,” I moan, and he slides himself in completely.

He hisses as he does so, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck, Stiles.” I moan out breathlessly. Stiles thrusts are hard, his rhythm unbearable. “Yeah, you like that?” He whispers, leaning down to me ear. His voice deep and husky, full of lust. His lips dip down to nip at my throat. “Yes, Stiles.” I moan, and I feel him smile against my kiss peppered skin.

“Awe, fuck.” Stiles drawls out into my ear, sitting up to his knees, still fucking me, his rhythm perfect. “Say my name.” He orders me, his hands gripping my hips as he pistons into me. I can barely take it.

Of course I do as he says. I moan his name, eyes rolling back, my mouth hung wide open as moans spill out of me. He slides a hand to my cunt, his thumb moving to circle my clit. He watches with hooded eyes where we meet as he fucks me senseless.

“Say it again.”

“Stiles.”

“Again.”

“𝘖𝘩 Stiles.”

“Yeah, you getting close? Do I fuck you that good? Say it.” He seethes, his dirty words rattling in my head. I’m breathless, the cold room now unbearably hot. “You fuck me so good, Sti.” I moan, the ball in the pit of my stomach tightening with every touch of his. His hand gripping my hip. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. His thumb pressing to my clit.

“Yeah? You like that, baby.” I can’t take it anymore. “Stiles,” I moan, my limbs restless, I can’t stay still. “Tell me.” He says, leaning down over me to envelope my lips in a wet, searing kiss. I moan as he parts, “I’m gonna cum, Stiles.”

“Then do it.”

I obey his every word, my release washing over like a wave. My back arches into him, and Stiles buckles down, chasing his nearing high. I’m just about to tell him I can’t take it anymore when he cums, spilling into the condom. His brows furrowing and his mouth agape. He lets out the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard, I never want it to stop.

He pumps a few more times, riding out his high. “Oh, fuck.” He whispers, slowly pulling out of me. I moan as he does, partly in pleasure and partly in pain. I’m sore now, I can’t even imagine how sore I’ll be tomorrow.

Stiles gets up from the bed, he quickly discards the condoms and pulls his boxers on. He pads to the bathroom, and I lay there for a minute not sure of what to do. I close my legs and watch as he comes back with a damp rag.

He comes back to me, kneeling on the bed in front of my closed legs. “Open.” He says, placing a hand on my knee to pry them open once more. He cleans me up, and I’m completely and utterly in shock. Did he really just do that? What have I been missing out on?

When he’s does, I sit up so our faces meet, and I peck his kiss swollen lips. “Thank you.” I whisper, and he hums in response, kissing me once more.

As he goes to the bathroom to put the rag away, I gather my scattered clothes from the floor, and I’m slipping them on as he comes back, hopping back into the bed.

It’s at this point that I’m not really sure what to expect now. Are we never gonna talk about this again? Are we just gonna hate each other and fuck on the side? I’m nervous to get back in bed with him.

“Come here.” Stiles mumbles, laying his arm out for me. I crawl into bed, snuggling into him. “Do we still hate each other?” I whisper. He says nothing, reaching om his other arm over to his nightstand.

“Here.” He says, handing me his phone charger.

!𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎!

“Jesus Stiles, turn it off.” I grumble, his alarm blaring in my ears. Stiles is dead asleep, how he’s able to sleep through his excruciating alarm? No idea.

I reach over him to grab his phone, hitting the snooze button. But before I put it down I see a text from none other than Scott, at 12:31 AM.

𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙘𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨

𝟏/𝟐𝟕/𝟐𝟒

[twistedpink]

Hi! I love your HCs/writing! When I saw that your requests were open, I just had to send in an ask, especially since, by the looks of your masterlist, you haven't gotten a lot of requests for my best boy, Jack. Could you please give us some Lovesick!Jack? 🙏

First of the Jack flood!! So cute!

Jack hates that it only takes getting a reminder that “yes, you’re in his life, and yes, you’re perfect” for his tail to be spinning like a propeller. He’s knocked over so many things (pots, furniture, people) just getting a whiff of you down the hall that he’s this close to just taping the thing to his leg and being done with it. But he won’t, cause he knows you’d complain about “missing” it <3

Lovesick!Jack that’s the worst at communication, but very good at comfort. Anxious? He’s wrapping a big ol’ arm around your waist to ground you. Uncomfortable? He’s got a warm jacket to lend, and a hand to hold. 10/10 boyfriend material!

Lovesick!Jack that’s not clingy, but sure as hell more present in your life than anyone you know. Always checking up and hanging around you- If you weren’t the smartest tool in the shed you’d almost believe he likes you! When you tell him exactly that, it’s best to disregard his frantic tail wagging and his rapidly redder face. Anyone would be be embarrassed in this situation with a friend :D!

Lovesick!Jack can’t help but defend you a little too passionately (even from little jabs with your friends), but you can’t be mad at him when he accidentally flashes those puppy eyes :( He just wants your approval SO bad, won’t you help a guy out?

Jack loves to be in love with you, it gives him a real sentiment for those “cringy couples” doing PDA- cause guess what? You’re them now. The horror! No matter how hidden your hugs and kisses are Adeuce will find you, and send you insulting magicam reals (The Ace bit will, Deuce just thinks you’re the kind of cute he wants to be far away from). Jack will always be deathly lovesick for you, and true love’s kiss is the only cure! <3

[azzibuckets]

anything you want [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: fluffy blurb based off this moment last year when paige dressed azzi in her entire outfit at the sza concert then lent her her jacket

a/n: dedicated to @clairosrealwife for messaging me on 4 different places asking for a new fic like the overbearing annoying ass she is

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

“Yikes.”

Paige, Jana, and Aaliyah peered through the doorway of Azzi’s room, all exchanging glances at the sight before them. Azzi was slumped on the floor, face down in a pile of clothes while shirts and sweaters were strewn all over her bed, furniture, and closet.

They’d been eating snacks in the kitchen before muffed groans had pierced the peaceful silence of the dorm. Azzi had been in a mood all day, and no one on the team dared to bother her when she was pissed off. But it was becoming hard to enjoy their Lays when Azzi was huffing and storming around in the other room, so they made a mutual agreement to approach the girl together by having strength in numbers.

“Azzarae,” Aaliyah said gently, always having a soft spot for her younger roommate. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find anything cute to wear for the concert,” Azzi groaned. “This is literally the worst day of my life. I failed my exam in accounting this morning and then I got a smoothie to console myself but then I fucking spilled the entire thing-,”

Paige glared at her teammates as they slowly started to creep away from the door. “Your girlfriend, your problem,” Aaliyah mouthed before she and Jana took off, giggling as they returned back to their snacks.

Fatties, Paige thought bitterly to herself before entering the room and shutting the door. “You know the entire team is scared of you whenever you’re mad?”

A small smirk slid its way onto Azzi’s face. “I know. They leave me alone for once. I get peace and quiet.”

Paige rolled her eyes fondly. She grabbed Azzi’s hand and folded it between hers, rubbing soothing circles across Azzi’s palm with her thumbs. “I got some new shit in the mail a few days ago. Come over and try them on?”

Azzi nodded gratefully. On their way out, Aaliyah and Jana were still laughing like hyenas, fingers flying across their screens as they texted the group chat about how they’d left Paige to her own devices. But as soon as Azzi sent them a withering stare, they both immediately shut up. “You’re such a pussy,” Jana whispered to Aaliyah. “You’re literally older than her.” Without looking up from her phone, Aaliyah jabbed Jana in the stomach.

Azzi made herself comfortable on Paige’s bed as the older girl started rummaging through some boxes in her closet. “Here.” Paige tossed a pile of plastic wrapped packages at Azzi.

Azzi’s hands hovered over the clothes. “You sure? You haven’t even gotten the chance to wear them yourself yet.”

Paige leaned down and pressed a kiss to Azzi’s neck, letting her lips linger on the sensitive pulse point that she knew made Azzi shudder. “Stop being so unselfish all the time,” she murmured, “or I’m gonna start making out with you and we’ll never make it to the concert.”

A rosy blush fell over Azzi’s cheeks. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” she admitted, tucking an unruly strand of blonde hair behind her girlfriend’s ear.

Paige playfully bit down on Azzi’s shoulder, earning a squeal from the dark haired girl. Smirking, she drew back and punched Azzi’s shoulder. “Try the clothes on, dumbass.”

“A full Supreme outfit outfit? Really?” Azzi wrinkled her nose in the mirror as she experimented with her shirt, tucking it in and scrunching up one side to see what would look best.

“It’s gonna be cold.” Paige tossed her a puffer vest. “This would go nice with the sweats.”

Azzi shrugged on the puffer vest. Tilting her head thoughtfully in the mirror, she rolled her shirt up to above her belly button, making it look like a cropped top. “Much better.”

“You tryna make people faint?” Paige complained, eyes glued to the shiny piercing on Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi grinned, hand gesturing across her body. “You like it?”

“You know I think you look good in everything.” Paige approached Azzi from behind, hands sneakily sliding under the vest to make contact with Azzi’s bare abdomen. Paige savored the way Azzi’s muscles contracted at her touch. “But you look better in this than I would, trust.” She nestled her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, her gaze meeting brown doe eyes in the mirror. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Azzi turned and planted a kiss on Paige’s cheek. “Wanna match? You can wear your other Supreme shirt?” She smiled at Paige, that goddamn smile reserved solely for the person she loved most in the world, and Paige had seen that smile and that dimple almost every day for six years now, but she swore her knees still went weak at the sight.

Paige’s thumb brushed the expanse of Azzi’s skin, dipping just below the waistline of her pants in a slow circle. “Anything you want.”

*********

“You know I can walk just fine by myself?”

Paige’s hands ghosted Azzi’s waist for the hundredth time that night. “I know.”

Thankful that Paige was behind her and couldn’t see her face, Azzi smiled. She would never admit it, but she loved whenever Paige got unnecessarily protective whenever they were in public, guiding her through crowds with a hand firmly planted on the small of her back. Their relationship was private to the point where they could never kiss or show affection in front of other people, but this was one subtle way Paige reminded Azzi of how much she loved her, and Azzi appreciated it.

“You’re shivering.” Azzi hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Paige pointed it out, but suddenly she could feel the late night chill in her bones despite the body heat radiating from the crowd pressed against them.

“I’m fine,” Azzi brushed her off. “I’ll go buy a hot chocolate or something later.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Paige murmured, hand reaching out to steady Azzi as she zipped up her girlfriend’s puffer.

“Can you guys stop being cute for once?” Aubrey grumbled from behind them.

Both of them ignored her.

When she noticed how Azzi was still trying to rub her hands together for warmth, Paige immediately took off her jacket and pushed it into Azzi’s hands.

“No,” Azzi insisted, trying to give the jacket back. “You’re literally in only a shirt Paige.”

“Well, I’m not cold at all,” Paige said stubbornly, refusing to accept the jacket. “Are you forgetting I grew up in Minnesota?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” Azzi lied.

Paige cocked an eyebrow. “So your lips aren’t trembling?”

Sighing in defeat, Azzi hesitated before slipping on the black coat over her puffer. Paige smirked, adjusting the collar so that it sat comfortably on Azzi’s shoulders. “Better?” she asked softly.

Azzi nodded, glancing around before bringing Paige’s hand to her mouth and pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles. “If you start getting cold I’m taking this jacket off,” she warned.

“I’m actually pretty warm,” Paige said breezily. “But I wouldn’t mind some extra body heat, if you know what I mean,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she huddled closer to her girlfriend, pressing her entire body against the blonde’s. Her fingers fumbled around before finding Paige’s hand and tangling them together.

“See? Perfect.”

[taintedtort]

"stop sniffling," you heard toji‘s deep, tired voice rumble beside you, his back facing you.

"i’m sick, asshole," you mumble back, your voice stuffy and congested as you blow your nose for the nth time.

"who’s fault is that?"

you suppose he’s right. he did tell you not to go out in the snow last night, but you just wanted to walk in it for a little while. it looked so pretty!

but now here you were, up at midnight with a stuffy nose and sore throat, your sneezing and sniffling keeping toji up as well.

"i think i'm dying," you mumble dramatically, a pout on your lips as you turn to look at toji's back. you hear him sigh before he’s turning over to face you, giving you a tired and exasperated look.

"you're not dying, you'll be fine."

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"keeping you awake."

he rolls his eyes at your sudden apology, and you huff at the sight. you’re just trying to be nice!

"you’re such a grumpy old man," you mumble, your voice sounding congested as you can’t breathe through your nose.

"you’re a brat who doesn’t listen," he retorts dryly, too tired to deal with you and your sickness. you simply sulk at his words, knowing he’s right. you did feel bad for keeping him up, especially after he warned you not to go outside, but the memory was worth it to you.

"at least we got to play in the snow… and it’s good that only i got sick." toji stares at you for a second, an unreadable expression on his face. you blink in surprise as you see the subtle nod of his head, like he’s agreeing with you.

"the snow was alright, 's too cold though," he grumbles, rubbing at his half lidded eyes. however, you know him better than that. he definitely had fun messing around with you outside, even if he didn’t admit it.

"i’d rather me be sick than you though, i wish you weren’t," he mumbles, and you almost don’t hear it. his eyes are closed now, not being able to keep them open from the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"aww, toji! that’s so sweet—"

"cus you complain too much, 's annoying." he cuts you off, his words laced with playfulness so you know he’s just kidding.

he grunts as you shove him, though you cough right after and it makes him grin at your instant karma.

"you’re mean. i’m sick and i’m dying, you could be nicer—"

he cuts you off once again when he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. he holds you close, his chin resting atop your head.

"shut up and try to get some sleep, i'm fuckin' exhausted," he murmurs near your ear, his sleepy voice reaching your ears and making you smile.

it’s rare toji cuddles you like this, so you fully embrace it, nuzzling closer into the warmth of his chest. after a beat of silence, you hear his deep voice once again.

"if you get me sick i'll be pissed."

"asshole," you huff back, jabbing him lightly in the side, causing him to let out a strained noise from low in his throat.

"goodnight, brat."

"…night, toji." ♡

☆ this is sitting in my drafts and i wanna get rid of it, so here

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Based on all the whb kings dick size Levi is the smallest (he's 18cm which is still pretty big compared to human men but still smaller than the other kings)

so I was wondering if you could do a fic where MC teases him about it, like compares him to the other kings (you know really get his jealousy going) but he kinda likes it but acts like he doesn't and proves to MC that size doesn't matter *wink wink 😉 *

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE how MUCH I LOVE THIS!!! Why is my new think cucking and teasing/torturing Leviathan??! (I mean he was the first card I got?)

Ok so like there’s a really funny quote that came to mind that I need to use for this but wanna share first!

So there’s SO MUCH POTENTIAL HERE!! Like he 100% doesn’t know he’s big to humans, so it’s a jab at his pride with every remark on his size bc the other kings 100% made fun of him of his ‘tiny’ cock.

(So for those who live where I do, 18cms is 7.087 inches…he’s 7 inches but 100% would make you state the exact size saying 7 inches is a ‘underestimation’)

And bc he’s so self conscious? When you were staring surprised at his size, he took it as he was ‘too small’ for you. He’d throw a fit…

(Idk when I toook this image but he’s so cute to me???)

-

Cw: slight cucking, lots of teasing, technically polycule, SDH

You couldn’t help it, Levithan was so easy to get worked up, he threw a tantrum when he realized you didn’t lose your virginity with him (despite him KNOWING you’ve needed devil energy…), and after being with Satan AND Mammon, he knows he can’t compare!

But here you were, chatting with him like you were gossiping with Paimon, while Levithan is sat in front of you, naked from the waste down, he was trying to tone out insulting remarks about his size.

“Seriously, what am I supposed to with this? After getting some prime meat from Mammon how am I supposed to use this? At least Satan is big enough to get half way in…” You say laughing a bit. It was so stupid, but Leviathan was fuming.

“Q-quit yapping, Decedent of Solomon! I’m plenty big-“ He squeals as you roughly grab his cock, squeezing it with your fingers wrapped around it, you keep squeezing until your finger touched. It was a stretch but Levithan look mortified.

“Pfft! The tiny human can wrap one hand around your cock!” You force out a laugh, but you know he can’t tell the difference. He doesn’t know your fingers are barely touching…

“No!N-no! I-it’s because I-I’m not fully aroused!” He blurts out. You can almost feel him scrambling to figure out what to say. He clears his throat as if that’s why he was stuttering. “I’m not at full mass, that’s why. It gets bigger…”

You can hear him trail off as if realizing he can’t just lie that it’ll get bigger…when he’s already dripping pre, it’s throbbing in your painful grip. You stifle your laugh.

“I’m sure it does…do you know how big Lucifer is? You looks like you got a clit in comparison!” You chuckle, you flash a toothy grin as he hisses in frustration. His cock tip is an angry red, almost matching his face! “So Levi let me ask…” You flash him toothy grin that makes him know your gonna say something…that will definitely wound his pride.

“How does it feel to know that out of all your friends, you have the smallest dick?”

Levithan’s eyes widen, he looks like you just slapped him, he even audible gasp! You almost worry you went to far but he whimper/shouts out. “T-then it’s a good thing I don’t have any friends!” He says as if that’s a better solution, he’s so worked up he’s shaking, his cock bouncing aggressively in your hand.

You laugh at that, you couldn’t hold it back, you could see shock on his face at your response, he blushes a deep red and whimpers. Finally release his cock, he loudly gasp at the sudden release of pressure, he’s so close….

“I-it doesn’t need to be big! I can show you…” Leviathan complains and quickly helps you remove your pants, using your undergarments as the only protection as he grinds against you. He keeps grinding against you, his ‘tiny’ cock rubbing against you like a personal massager.

You moaned teasingly, it felt great. “Ooh! You know how to rub it against things, that’s great, here, let me show how to use that thing…”

You pushed him down and grind against his cock, grinding down on it, it gave you little pleasure while he was clearly sensitive…

You can’t not keep teasing him! He’s clearly enjoying it with the way he’s leaking pre…

“I wonder if your subordinates are bigger than you…do you have the smallest dick in hell? You’re taker than Satan, shouldn’t your dick be bigger? Or at least less sensitive?” You tease, moving your underwear enough for his dick to tease your entrance. He loudly whines at the sight of your naked skin…

“It’s not sensitive. Humans just…don’t understand…” Leviathan trails off before looking away. “Humans are fickle things…demons enjoy the sentiment more than feeling…”

You can hear his constant pauses in his speech, he’s trying to come up with an excuse without admitting he’s…sensitive. You reach down and tease his cock head, earning a moan. “Shouldn’t humans be more sensitive then? But here we are, a demon trembling while a human grinds on his dick…what are you going to do if I tell you it’s too tiny for me to use?”

Leviathan looks like you just kicked him, he glares at you. He angles his hips, then the next slide back you feel his cock slip into you, granted your ready for it, but once sheathed into you, he seems to realize the situation. He can’t move under you, now you were just sitting in his dick…squeezing it…and he can’t do anything!

Leviathan growls. “Do something already! It’s plenty big enough for a tiny human like you! I-I can easily please any demon, now let me move…” He starts to groan and loudly complains. Out of mercy you lift your hips only enough to let him thrust into you.

As much as Leviathan wants to go fast, the angle isn’t exactly easy for him to thrust into you, he tries to voice something to you but it dies in his throat and he stops thrusting into you. He whimpers, a deep blush across his face.

“What’s wrong? Can’t even last as long as the other Kings?”

Leviathan hisses in complaint and lowers his gaze. “I don’t…know.Its…”

He whimpers and begins squirming under you, you feel him throbbing inside you…

He can take some more teasing.

-

[lnfours]

tolerate it | l.n

summary: if it’s all in my head, tell me now. tell me i’ve got it wrong somehow.

warnings: happy folklore/evermore season :) angst, language, fears of your partner falling out of love with you, slight anxiety and overthinking, fluffy ending bc i can’t make them stay mad at each other. kinda wanna do an evermore/folklore mini series, let me know if you guys would be interested <3

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the colder weather meant the sun was starting to set earlier, and it was evident as you gazed out the window, sitting at the dining room table. the candle you had lit an hour or so ago flickering softly, illuminating the room with a soft glow as the gloomy sky hovered above.

you sighed to yourself, taking another sip from the wine glass that sat next to your plate. you tapped on your phone screen, lighting up and displaying the time and the picture you had set as your lock screen. the 5:30 hovering tauntingly above the picture of you and lando from a few months back, your smile wide and trying to hide it in his shoulder as he held his camera to the mirror. he was sporting a smile also, you could almost hear your shared giggles through the photo.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago, and nights like this were happening more often. he’d always be an hour to an hour and a half late getting home. it was always an apology, saying ‘training ran late’ or the quadrant shoot ‘ran on longer than it was supposed to’, you’d see him for fifteen minutes while the two of you ate dinner, and then he’d go off to the office until he decides to join you in bed later in the night.

at first, you didn’t complain, knowing he was a man with a busy schedule, but after almost two months of this same song and dance, your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what if he was out with someone else? what if he was slowly losing interest in you? what if he just tolerates you?

the sound of the door closing pulled you from your thoughts, snapping your head up as you heard footsteps enter the room. he placed his keys, wallet and phone on the counter, frowning softly.

“sorry i’m late,” here we go again, “i told max i needed to be home by 4 and he insisted we played another round before i left.”

you nodded, taking another sip from the glass on your right, “‘s fine.”

he watched you swallow thickly, tilting your head to look back out the window. he noticed the way your hand tapped against your arm softly, his eyes moving to the plates set on the table. your grandmother’s china.

his heart dropped when he thought back to your conversation the other night, him saying the two of you would have a proper sit down meal tonight since he felt bad for running late lately.

and he just fucked it all up even more.

“you don’t have to lie,” he said, making you advert your attention back to him, “i know you know it’s not fine.”

you shook your head, “what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

he knew he deserved the digs and jabs you were sending his way, “seriously, lando, if you’re not interested in me anymore just say it instead of making me play this stupid game.”

the silence that fell between the two of you after was the final blow. he watched your cheeks glisten in the soft candle light, and fuck, he hated seeing you cry. especially when it was because of him.

he didn’t know what to say as your chair scraped the floor, getting up from your spot at the table and picking up your plate. the food untouched as you grabbed the saran wrap from the pantry.

he heard your quiet sniffle, “i’m so sorry, y/n-“

“then where have you been the past two months?” he blinked back at you before you continued, “every single day it’s the same, overused excuse. so, what is it really, lando? enlighten me.”

he swallowed because he didn’t have answer that didn’t sound like he was making an excuse. he really had been busy with work, but he knew he could’ve done better with planning to make more time for you and him.

you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but you were upset. you were angry and sad and all you wanted was for him to come home and spend time together like the two of you used to do. but it was like it was too much to ask for.

of course you knew what you were signing up for when he took you on your very first date, but you didn’t know it would mean being put on the back burner, begging to be let in on the things going on his life.

his silence made you nod, “right,”

he reached out to you slowly, not sure how you would react. you bit down on your bottom lip, the dam breaking now as he stepped towards you.

“y/n,” he said your name softly, understanding that your lash-outs were because of men who had hurt you in the past, knowing too well what it felt like when anxiety and over thinking takes over. he couldn’t be mad at you, he just wanted to make things right. make you feel reminded that he loved you. more than racing, more than his friends, more than anything in the whole world.

the back of your hands were raised to your eyes when he grabbed them and pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his chest. you gave in, knowing that at the end of the day, he was your safe place. your shoulder to cry on, the one who always saw you in your most vulnerable stages. there was no getting past him with this one.

your hands wrapped around his middle loosely as you cried softly into his chest. he rested his head against yours, rubbing your back the same way he always did whenever he’d comfort you. his lips pressed against your hair before he grabbed your face gently, lifting your chin to have you look at him.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, eyes searching yours and that’s when you realized he had been crying too, “i’m gonna talk to my trainer and the guys and tell them i need a little bit of a break, and you and i are gonna spend every single day together doing whatever you want.”

you felt selfish now, “but this is your job, lan,”

“i don’t care,” he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand to hold your cheek, “they’ll be fine if i take a few days off.”

your hand came up to mimic his on your cheek, your fingers brushing against the small moles on his face. the same ones your lips press against whenever you kiss his face. the pads of your thumbs brushed away the small tear lingering around his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for being cold to the boy who loved you like no other.

“don’t apologize,” he said, “i should’ve done better. you don’t deserve to feel like you’re on the back burner of my life.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. you looked back out the window, the light from the golden hour sun shining on the trees in the backyard. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, “i love you.”

you smiled softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. your smile making his lips turn up into one mirroring yours, “i love you, too.”

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, a mixture of the wine you had with dinner and the salty tears you had cried a few moments prior with the subtle hint of your chapstick.

you both pulled away, him taking you by surprise when he lifted you off the ground. you squealed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you clung onto his hoodie for dear life.

“lando!” you laughed, letting him carry you to the couch and thanking yourself for putting his dinner plate in the fridge earlier.

you had your boy back.

[trendywaifus]

Awhahah Nicole makes me wanna (s)cream imagine her being in charge and her liking being called boss

nicole loves to be in charge, she is the leader of the infamous cunning hares after all and she has a big ass ego. in private though, that proud facade of hers becomes a little flimsy to temptation—especially when you’re submissive under her. cw: gn with a dick, teasing, foot job, girlfailure and girlboss nicole!

“ where’s all that talk now, huh? “

the heel of nicole’s foot meanly digs into the growing tent in your pants. laid out on your back near the end of her bed, legs hanging from the mattress, you squirm and groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. your back arches, hips shamelessly buckling to the dry friction of her bare foot. cheeks red, nicole sneers at your groaning, resting her hands on her hips. “ y-you can’t bark about how you would be the better leader of the cunning hares and all it took for you to submit was by me doing this, “ nicole adds more pressure to your bulge, provoking a loud half-moan from you. what a loser you are, complaining and jabbing at her leadership because of some stupid ass agent not giving detailed considerations for the commission. they nearly got ambushed by hollows because of him, not her.

you’re such a loser—a loser who looks easy to take apart with just the work of her hands. a loser who would look so appetizing submissive and begging for her forgiveness. although the thought of it stokes her ego, nicole can’t help but feel embarrassed and intrigued; does she stop here?—how far can she go?

“ ni-nicole—“

“ that’s boss to you, (name)! remember that with that thick skull of yours. don’t you dare question my leadership again, got it? “ nicole spat, roughly sliding her bare foot up and down the print of your dick. she swallows thickly at the feeling of you twitching against her foot. you let out an wet whine, “ b-boss, i-i understand, please stopp. .”

“ apologize. i want to hear an apology from my employee. “

nicole applies a tad bit of pressure on the clothed head of your cock, you let out a sharp breath. mind going static with pleasure, a loose string of apologies spill out from your wet lips.

“ i’m s’sorry, boss, i-i didn’t mean itt, i swearr i’m sorryyy, “ nicole rubs her foot back down to the base, your jaw tenses before it parts open for a strained moan to slip out. shaky fingers reach downward as you attempt to remove nicole’s foot away from your throbbing sex.

“ don’t you dare touch my foot, (name). “ your boss snarls and you whimper, hands falling down to grip the sheets again.

“ but if y-you keep doing this—i’ll—!”

“ tell me that you’re my loyal employee and i’ll stop.”nicole demands haughtily, crossing her arms. chest panting, you lick your lips, half-lidded, desperate eyes staring up at her. damn, you look so good while being pathetic like this. if she wasn’t clinging so much to her self-control right now, she’d pounce on you and really make you beg for it.

“ i-i’m your loyal employee—“

nicole presses harder while languidly stroking you with her foot. you let out a loud mewl. she feels her chest getting heavy with temptation, the hot sensation of arousal swirling downwards.

“ say it louder, i want to hear it. “

“ i’m y-your loyal employee! “ you slur, feeling your orgasm reaching its peak. “ i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours, bossss— “

your mind becomes an empty canvas, white spots obscuring your vision as you cream in your jeans. hazel eyes closely observed the wet patch forming in your crotch area. despite the wet, slick feeling against her heel, she doesn’t pull away and instead, releases most of the pressure from your constrained member. she strokes you in a soothing pace to assist you with your high—as a reward for taking your punishment, of course.

you’re laid out boneless on her bed, shirt deliciously riding up your stomach, a dazed expression sitting on your face—god, you’re so. .

a practiced smug smile tugs at her pink lips as she finally removes her foot away. she instinctively squeeze her thighs together while she gives you a warning. “ that’s more like it. wasn’t so hard, was it, my loyal employee? next time, don’t piss me off or you’ll get much worse. “

if only you knew nicole was half-bluffing. .

[enluv]

(almost) six missed chances.

pairing: park jongseong x mentioned fem!reader

wc: 796

synopsis: in which jay can count all the missed chances he’s had with you on one hand, until he can’t.

genre: volleyball player!jay, pure fluff, light teasing (menace heeseung), and a lovesick jay!!

one evening he watches as you sit two tables infront of from him, chatting excitedly with your friend about your weekend plans. jay thinks he’d like to go out with you for the weekend too, only if you’d let him, but the professor starts class before he can think to ask.

“maybe if you asked instead of staring at her all class, she’d agree to go out with you.” his friend playfully chastises as he watches jay’s eyes never leave your form.

“shut up.” he mumbles back, quickly averting his gaze away onto his book.

two small waves are sent his way, and he feels like he’s seeing things. did he really see that right? had you seriously waved at him? him? as he himself? jay park? you knew he existed? his smile beams.

“dude why didn’t you wave back? that was so awkward! I had to do it for you! are you seriously that in love that you can’t even fathom waving back to her?” heeseung scoffs, pulling at his friends arm to guide him through the sea of students getting out of class.

it’s in that moment jay realizes, he didn’t wave back.

three times he’s seen you here now, it could be a coincidence but heeseung swears you’ve never come in before. he taunts that you’ve only started coming since jay started, and his heart races at the thought.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, an idiot really!” heeseung scolds watching his friend shamelessly admire you from afar.

“she looks really pretty today, brown is pretty on her.” he mumbles mostly to himself, moving around useless items on the counter.

“you’re sick!” heeseung yells as he swats jay away to finish taking orders.

four boys sit at a table complaining about their classes, volleyball season is among them and their schedules are tight, fitting in time with one another outside of practice is hard, lunches are sacred. a jab to his side brings him out of his endless thoughts.

“are you tired or something? you haven’t said a word to us since we sat down,” asks one of his friends.

“maybe that spike to the head really got him, do you need to see the team medic or something?” dotes another.

“he isn’t hurt idiots, he’s just in love. he does this in class too, stares at the wall imagining it’s his girlfriend,” heeseung points out, rolling his eyes at jay’s behavior, he’d witnessed it so many times before.

“she’s not my girlfriend!”

“but you want her to be!”

“please ask her out soon, I’m tired of you drooling over her in class, seriously dude all you can see is the back of her head, what’s so pretty about that?”

“everything about her is pretty…” he trails off, once again daydreaming.

five whistles blow to signal the stop of practice, jay huffs in annoyance. right before the whistle he was sure he would land his serve. the same one he’d been working to perfect since the season started.

“i have an announcement boys, you’ve whined to me so much about getting ya’ a team manager so I finally did it! don’t say I never do anything for you all cause I did this so don’t ask for nothin’ else!” the boys look between one another, some in confusion, others in excitement.

he’s sure his eyes are playing tricks on him, cheeks flushed bright red from practice and now as he watches you walk in, this has to be a some kind of sweet sick mirage.

“this is your new team manager brats, be nice to her or I’ll keep you on the sidelines, I mean it! if she quits because yer messin’ with her I’ll spike a ball to yer head,” his playful threat falls flat on the ears of the team, they all stare in awe at their newest team manager.

“looks like you might have some competitionnnnn,” heeseung sings as he walks past jay, shaking his head at his friend who is still staring in disbelief.

“fuck no.”

six boys, one coach, and a number of others watch him as he strides across the gym, the confidence oozing from his stature quickly diminishing as he stops right in front of you.

“i think you’re really pretty, and smart, and so fucking funny, it’s been killing me ever since I first saw you, you’re all I think about, day and night! and I know you don’t know me but you could get to know me, if you go out with me on a date!” he’s stumbling the words out, no amount of practice sessions in his bathroom mirror had prepared him for this moment, it’s all too surreal.

“oh finally,” his eyes widen in confusion at your words, “i thought you’d never ask.”

coco’s love note: firstly, thank you @malarign for reading it over for me hehe I love you bae!! 🤍 and secondly, this is my first post in a while and on top of that I’m currently stuck with a cold so please show it some love if you enjoy it 🥺 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

enhypen taglist — @yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @w3bqrl @heefys @haechan-nahceah @queen-klarissa @odxrilove @s00buwu @j-wyoung @jiawji

[shawty-writes-a-little]

don’t ever let go

꒰ erik lensherr x fem!reader ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

.𖥔 ݁ 🪐˖ word count: 2.2k+

⌞ plot: sort of hurt comfort when erik finds his rather irritable posing s/o going through a nightmare ⌝

warnings: nightmares, angst sort of (fluff end dw)?

People with contradictory world view and general thinking are bound to be engaged in petty disagreements. As strongly opinionated as Erik was he never got along with one certain mutant. Erik and y/n, always fighting, at each other’s throats. Most times they were rather entertaining scene creators at the Xavier’s institute, clashes were famous with the most colourful language used amongst the students. However Charles grew tired of this, best minds he knew were always bickering and fighting. Petty fights and little grudges turn ugly if pit against each other on battleground. God forbid that situation ever arises but Charles bad seen enough falling apart within his own to know how much could go wrong.

So, to get them along he paired the two to gather intel on some government bills at the procession gala held at Berlin. He was persuasive but not god, after all it was the hardest task in the world to get erik and y/n sit for dinner at the same table let alone go halfway across the world and pose as a couple, stay in one place and not blow cover? Charles came with the most believable persuading story as he could, lied the Oval Office asked for the two to specifically attend the mission this and that and it was a long afternoon trying to convince the two but the professor won in the end.

-

That is how Erik and her ended up in Berlin, the moment they were alone, not posing anymore their smiles and in-love act completely dropped. Shutting the hotel door behind him Erik sighed. It was a whole week of these galas and charity events, back from their first one and y/n was already growing tired of Erik. “You know I kind of hated how you manhandled me back there.” She complained as she leaned on the wall for support and removed her heels.

“What?” He asked confused as he removed his blazer and draped it on the sofa chair “What are you talking about I did no such thing” he said not exactly recalling anything like that.

“You said something to that senator in French and then grabbed me close to you to kiss my forehead like I was on the run from you-who does that?” Y/n said, she didn’t speak French so she didn’t understand what the conversation was on about regardless the moment she recalled, she wasn’t even standing that far away for him for him to yank her close to him like that.

“A husband?” Erik said raising brows as he exaggerated in obviousness removing his cufflinks.

“With the grace of a woodcutter?” She scoffed as she rolled her eyes at him, it’s not like she minded that, the two posed like that the entire night at the event it’s just that erik would time and time loose his cool and she didn’t want any casualties further into these galas “it would look like I’m your hostage instead of wife can’t you try and look gentler somehow?”

“You just made that up.” Erik said as he shook his head disregarding her suggestion “The senator made a rather vulgar comment about you in French by the way, instead of adding to it I held you close. Would you rather I laugh along with him and appear rather crass?”

“you can try but you can’t really change what you are” Y/n mumbled with a stifled chuckle at her own jab as she stood by the dressing table mirror removing her jewellery.

“I heard that.” He responded giving her a disappointed look but she just laughed at it anyways. He changed out of his shirt as they’d conversed. Not engaging in silly debates anymore y/n went to the adjoining bathroom to change out of her dress.

Erik worked on gathering some background on the guests of the events they’d met and conversed with, information in context of intel they had so far whilst y/n updated Charles via a long email, two emails, one of the intel and other how much insufferable Erik was.

Their third day in Berlin went remotely same, night however was about to be different. Y/n was settling their bed, the first two nights they took turns on the sofa but it turned out to be very uncomfortable to sleep in so they decided to share the bed. Erik glanced up from his laptop as y/n was setting up a pillow wall on the bed “That is so childish.” He commented.

“Yeah yeah” y/n said as she rolled her eyes, making clear partition of the bed. “Do not invade my side alright?”

Erik couldn’t help but laugh at the use of ‘invade’ “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said as he turned his attention back to the laptop. He decided to stay up rather late that night even after y/n retreated to bed. He would joke that it was easier to work after she was sleep and before she was awake as if he secretly didn’t hate the absence her ramblings brought.

An hour or so had passed, Y/n was sound asleep as he decided to wind up. He left to clean the desk, brush his teeth and wind down. When he came to bed he was met with y/n mumbling in her sleep, tossing and turning on her side of the bed.

His gaze softened when he realised she might be going through a nightmare. It seemed difficult, whatever she was seeing, he couldn’t understand her words but he caught a few pleading syllables here and there. “y/n…hey wake up” he cooed softly as he tried to wake her up, he gently placed his hands on her shoulder. “Hey-you’re just dreaming y/n…wake up.” He spoke and she got up almost instantly, breathing heavily.

She sat up trying to get used to the surroundings again, always the same thing. She hated when those dreams resurfaced revolving around her most despised horror. Erik had heard from Charles of what she’d been through when she was new, he didn’t know she was impacted to this scale. “Are you alright?” His voice arose another bad feeling inside of her. She didn’t want to be perceived as a weakling in front of him. When they’d argue he’d often call her that, not that she wouldn’t call him worse back but she would hate if he found out about this ordeal. She didn’t want to appear weak.

Getting out of the bed hurriedly she rushed to the table stand, feeling a bit dizzy after how fast she stood up and how fast she was trying to comprehend everything. She tried to pour herself a glass of water shakily. Her train of thoughts ran as she tried not to have a break down, her heart beat fast from the visuals of the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Erik was quick to pace up to her “Hey look at me” he spoke taking the jug of water out of her hands given she was struggling to pour it properly.

“Are you alright?” Erik repeated his question and he could note how she was still too shaken to answer correctly and fine enough.

“Y-yeah-“ she could muster out as she tried to level her breathing which didn’t seem to work apparently.

“Y/n.” He spoke leaning lower to meet her eyes since she avoided eye contact with him, “look at me” he spoke as he placed comforting hands by biceps to hold her upright. “Deep breaths with me, come on.” He spoke as he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed her back as she was still slightly trembling guiding her to breathe evenly.

After a few moments when she tried to fake the best proper composure she could she nodded, “I’m alright thanks” she said very softly afraid she might tear up any moment. Ever so tired and scared of her recurring nightmares, just when she thought it was getting better. Why would it not leave her alone? Why couldn’t she move past it?

Erik wasn’t a mind reader but the look on her face read enough for him at the moment, “y/n” he sighed “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I said it’s fine-“ she said with an exhale however her breaking voice and avoiding stare said something else. She couldn’t hold it back anymore as the brimming tears surfaced out of her eyes. She held her head in her hands weeping into them. Erik didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arm around her in a comforting manner, “I-I’m not this soft alright I’m not-I’m not weak” she told him like she had to justify her crying.

“Hey hey hey-“ he cooed as he pulled away just to see her face again, “who says you’re weak? This is completely alright.” He reasoned with her as she cried.

“No I—I just-“ she didn’t exactly know how well she could phrase this out for him. How much terrified she was of what she kept seeing in her dream, from her past, haunting her again and again and how much she didn’t want him to think she was this much of a mess.

“You are not weak, y/n. You are anything but weak. It’s difficult going through a nightmare but you’re really strong, you made out of it see” he talked to her patiently in a very encouraging manner as he wiped her tears with his sleeve.

“It felt so real-“ she choked up as she tried her best to stop crying, Erik took her into his arms, giving her a hug as he spoke sweet nothings to him.

She cried and trembled in his arms unable to speak coherently until she soothed her crying, he held her throughout it. “I am just so tried Erik…” she said as he pulled away to look at her face.

He removed the hair in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear, “is it always this bad?” He asked her, feeling really awful how much she’d had gone through already and even then in sleep she wasn’t left alone of it. Y/n nodded as she wiped the tears off her face, she wasn’t so phased by ‘this’ bad given she was used to them now.

“Is it frequent?” He asked, his softened gaze holding her trouble one.

“Not as frequent but-it comes and goes, I just can’t escape it.” She said with a dejected sigh. “I am used to it I just wish I was—properly used to it. I wish I wasn’t this affected…”

“Nobody should have to be used to this y/n it’s difficult, really difficult.” He told her as he held her hands in his softly. “It’s bound to affect you, in the worst way it’s made you…you. Surely doesn’t define you but it defines your strength, your courage. You are truly strong.”

“But I’m afraid Erik” she told him looking away, “I am exhausted of being this afraid.”

“And that’s fine.” He replied holding her hands in his a little tighter to impose the exaggeration of his words, “It takes strength to keep going, even more to be afraid and still keep going and you have done that job very well y/n.” He spoke as he kissed her forehead with a comforting smile adorning his face, reflecting how proud he was she made it through. “Let me help you?”

Y/n took a deep breath as she nodded, she felt rather safe in his help. In his presence and his touch, it was as comforting as it was safe. He helped her through that night, holding her close staying awake until she eventually fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t want to ever let go.

—

HIIII I hope you have a good day pls pls pls let me know if anyone wants to read more erik pieces! Requests are open too🕺

Feed back is desperately appreciated :)

Go drink water. Now. Or you will stub your toe in a corner in the next 10 seconds.

[lady-lostmind]

Not So Nice

Written for @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Prompts: Nice & Tree

Rating: T | WC: 681 Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie is being nice. Not that Eddie isn’t nice. But he tends to be subtly nice. Remembering how Steve takes his coffee, nice. Grabbing Steve’s favorite candy bar from the store, nice. But it’s usually shrouded in funny jabs to his outfit or changing the radio in Steve’s car as soon as he gets in because of his horrible taste. It took Steve forever to realize Eddie was flirting with him because he spent all his time making fun of him. Steve is used to it, now, after being together so many years. He knows Eddie loves him. He just loves picking at him just as much. He’s not usually outwardly nice. And he doesn’t really do work of any kind that doesn’t directly benefit him without a lot of whining and complaining. So naturally, Steve is suspicious as he watches Eddie drag the Christmas tree up from the basement, unprompted. 

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “What did you do?” 

Eddie’s brow scrunches and he scoffs. “What are you talking about?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “You hate all my Christmas decorations. I usually have to beg you just to help me bring this stuff up from the basement. So– What. Did. You. Do?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes as he tugs open the tree box and tries to locate the base. “I know you like to put all this shit up as soon as possible. It’s December first. I figured you’d ask me today anyway, so–” He shrugs as he digs around in the box.

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t buy it.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh and mumbles under his breath. “Jeeze. You try to do something nice.” 

Steve sighs and walks over to help Eddie pull everything out for the tree. “Okay, fine. Thank you for bringing it up.”

Eddie flashes him a smile and leans over to press his lips to Steve’s. “You’re welcome, baby.”

Steve hums and hands Eddie the next section of the tree, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because there’s always another shoe with Eddie. 

–

The tree looks gorgeous. Front and center in the window, lights shining bright. Steve loves this time of year. Loves hosting all the holiday get-togethers he never got to have when he was kid. He steps back staring with starry eyes and slips his arm around Eddie, pulling him in close.

Eddie kisses his temple. “It’s pretty.” 

Steve nods, leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie plays with the hem of Steve’s shirt and sighs. Steve shifts to glare at him. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie flashes him a smile and shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

Steve pulls back and rolls his eyes. “Just tell me Eds.”

Eddie sighs, slumping. “I have to miss the big Christmas party.”

Steve’s heart sinks, his mouth falling open. “Wh–”

Eddie reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand, thumb rubbing over the back. “I’m sorry, baby. The label wants us to do some special on MTV. It films the same night.”

Steve groans. “Babe! We changed the date so it wouldn’t mess with the tour!”

Eddie looks at him with big, guilt filled eyes. “I know. I’m so sorry.”  

Steve sighs. “I knew there was a reason you were being so nice.” 

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’m always nice.” He leans in close to Steve, a grin playing on his face. 

Steve rolls his eyes but lets Eddie pull him in and press their lips together. Eddie pulls back and leans his forehead against Steve so all he can do is stare in his eyes. 

“I really am sorry, Stevie. I know how important it is to you.” 

Steve sighs, knowing he can’t stay mad at Eddie for long, especially when it’s not even his fault. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” He leans back and eyes Eddie up and down, resting his hand on his belt buckle.Eddie’s mouth pulls into a wide grin, dimple popping. “Oh, that I can do, sweetheart.” He drops to his knees right in front of their beautiful Christmas tree.

[cattlemons]

hi :)) a bit of a personal request but could i get wanderer comfort for a fem or g/n reader? (your choice) i have a...difficult relationship with my father. when he's sad/angry/upset he usually takes his frustration out on me by yelling at me and calling me names and other hurtful things. then when i cry he tells me that I'm pretending to be a victim, and blames me entirely for his feelings. i just had a sitution like this earlier tonight so its on my mind :) anyway, could i get wanderer comfort for a situation like this? or if this is too specific maybe where reader just doesn't get along with their father? thanks sm <33333

A Salve For Unhealed Wounds

TW: Toxic dad, name calling by a parental figure, emotional distress and familial conflict, crying in public, there's a swear word in there, 1,5k words

a.n. Nonnie, sorry for the wait :( I had an exam and couldn't be on here at all (also left you a short message at the bottom)

It happened again. 

The man you were supposed to trust with your life yelled at you again. Your heart aches at the implication that the weight of his love for you changes depending on the emotion reigning his mind and heart. Your mind crumbles when it recollects the words he spat out so easily when red paints his iris. 

It wouldn’t have hurt as much if he’s always this way. It hurts because you’ve seen the smile that escapes his guarded heart on rare occasions. You’ve also heard him say good things and do good deeds the way an honorable man would–when he’s not mad that is.

It’s unfair that he can’t always be that way with you.

You took off towards the Puspa Cafe, hoping the bustle of Sumeru evening would be the cooling salve you need to soothe your battered mood. 

Yeah, that’s a good idea.

Entering the establishment, scents of coffee and spice filled your nostrils as ease settled between the spaces of your bones. The balmy yellow and brown hues greeted your weary state as the inviting warmth of the cinders burning in the oven beckons you to rest. You made the right call to come here tonight.

Or, so you thought.

Despite being on good terms with the otherwise lonesome man, you did not want to see the infamous hat guy; not tonight. It’s less about his presence and more about yours. The dynamic between the two of you is akin to that of a flying serpent and a scorpion. You’d take frequent jabs at each other, flinging teasing remarks and poking fun at one another but somehow, in a very weird roundabout way, there’s always a sincere sort of care behind it all. 

Right now, however, you don’t think you have it in you to take what you know he can dish. You did get lucky and got a secluded seat, you just hope he does not notice you here. 

“What are you doing here, prickly bush,” he called out to you just as your train of thought chugged away to somewhere beyond the oak doors of the cafe.

Right, so much for peace of mind.

You turn towards him, the frown that began dissipating moments ago returning in full force. Grumbling before speaking, you let out, “Not today, please, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh yeah, someone’s definitely a prickle bush right now.”

You were at a crossroads between telling him to leave and bursting into tired tears when he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows scrunched as he sat across you. You looked at him but his eyes were trained away from you, staring at some other patron sitting at the wooden bar just a bit away from the both of you. 

Since when was he a caring man?

Your thoughts and confusion settle into a prolonged silence. You half expected him to grumble out an insult along the lines of “Are your ears clogged” or “Need help finding a hearing aid” but he, surprisingly, sat still; eyes now hopping over to a woman by the door having a conversation with a balding man. 

Is he patient now? What kind of patron-saint bullshit is he pulling?

Not that you’re complaining, though. You much prefer this despite the weirdness of it all; or rather the newness. 

“I’m fine–”

“Don’t lie, if you can’t lie,” he interrupts as he points at your fingers curling in on each other. 

He sure is perceptive when you don’t want him to be.

Silent gathers the both of you in its arms once more as you think of a response to give to him. He’s being kind right now but you don’t feel like divulging everything to him. Your friendship is just beginning to stand on two feet. It’s taking baby steps at best. You don’t want to scare him away by dumping all your shit on him. By the abyssal name, he probably carries more baggage than you and you don’t see him throwing them around.

“You don’t have to tell me, don’t get all constipated just because I asked,” he said before continuing even softer, “You seemed down, just thought it’d be helpful to ask.”

Though you did not notice it at the time, your heart slowly began to lay down the walls you raised from the events that transpired earlier under the roof of your father’s house. 

Perhaps, he can help.

The wanderer was about to take his leave when you whispered with a certain weariness he found familiar, “My father isn’t always a nice man.”

He sat back down as quickly as he could. He probably sat on one of the ornate hanging detailings of his hat or on that long sleeve of his but he couldn’t be bothered by it. Though his eyes look past you, you know his focus is solely on what you have to say.

So, you told him. At first, you tried to be as close to the baseline as possible, choosing to speak of the basic details but soon you choked up and told him everything. Your thoughts, your fears, even your longing for a better version of the father you wanted to look up to, bubbled out of your tired heart. As the night sky grows darker outside, you find yourself slightly teary-eyed as your long story comes towards its end. 

Your eyes were still on your hands that laid on your lap, palms now sweaty from excessive nervous rubbing. You stole a glance at him and, just like you, he barely moved from his previous position. He’s still not looking at you, almost like he’s not listening at all but you know he is. 

It took a beat or two, almost like he was waiting to see if you had more to say before he opened his mouth to speak. 

“You’re kind, you know?”

What?

“I don’t get it. What do you mean ‘I’m kind’?”

“Just that. You’re kind, maybe even too kind.”

You fully looked up at him now to see that his eyes were already on you. 

“I listened to you tell me about the horrible things that man says to you and, yet, you still call him by a title he doesn’t deserve,” before you can question him, he answers, “A dad.”

You’re silent as he continues, “This cruel world decides to give him something so precious and he decides to lie and say all these shitty things. He’s not a good man but he’s dumb too if he’s got something so precious and decides that the best course of action is to call it untrue names. Does he not realize the power a name holds?”

Wet droplets stain your hands and lap as tears fall from your eyelids, lungs heavy, and muscles sagging. 

Taking a look at his surroundings he sighs before taking his hat off and placing it on you.

“I’m sure you don’t want anyone seeing you like this and speaking about it tomorrow, here.”

The tenderness of his voice and action winds your heart up as more choked sobs gurgle out of your throat.

Your neck tightens in protest as you try to speak but you fight the pain of your contracting muscles as you force out, “On a good day I… I know that he's lying… but sometimes I can’t help but think he’s right,” you sniffled and let a wave of uncontrollable sobs pass you by before continuing, “I mean there’s only so much… so much… I can deny before something false starts feeling real.”

Your admission broke the puppet's imaginary heart as he wills himself to hold back his instinct to swing insults and fists at your father. Instead, he chose to let what he supposes are comforting words drown your sorrow. It’s rigid and almost primal the way he tries to soothe your sadness but it's tender and warm in its own way, just as he is. 

“Are you… are you sure he’s wrong? How can you… you be so sure?”

The staccato of your unsure question is met with unwavering eyes as he nods. 

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t have said what I said otherwise.”

You hid your face with your hands as your back slumped forward. The wanderer could see the heaving of your shoulders and he could only comfort you by repeating his praise for you. Much like a devotee chanting his faith, he whispered kind words in hopes that by repeating it, you will believe this too. He hopes he’s done enough to override the names your father engraved into you with angered frowns, at least temporarily. The road to recovery winds away and is far from linear but he's ready to accompany you if you want him to.

As you continue to let out the emotions you thought dried up years ago, you hear him say, “Even if you forget again, just tell me and I’ll remind you that you’re nice, you’re smart and you’re so, so kind.”

Nice, smart, and kind huh? 

You don’t think you can believe it right now but slowly, you hope you will.  

Part two (not really that intertwined but I made it with the same characters in mind) To Nonnie, I'm sorry you have to go through this. I hope this little piece of fiction brings you some comfort, even if it might not fully capture what you're feeling. If there's anything more I can do to help or if you just need someone to talk to, please let me know.

[querenciasturniolo]

same ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: swearing, crying, anxious thoughts, kissing

summary: nick gives you some much needed advice, and things don’t go according to plan

a/n: (part two to obviously) i wasn’t expecting the amount of love i got for obviously, and i was SO excited for this part two that i tried to get through all of my requests so i could focus on this. thank you, i had SO much fun writing this 💓 i hope i tagged everyone !!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

tags: @222-lia , @black-yn , @lvrsparadise , @gwenloremain , @athenalive , @mxriverse , @notmarnaa , @rainsoakedphoenix , @peter-knows-spiderman , @sunflowerchild27 , @strniolo , @jellybeanbby , @oneirophobic , @landryz , @umichlover , @ot5xhabit , @edensocool , @floofparker , @friedfirewagonhorse , @avamartino , @hoshhoshh

You didn’t answer the text.

You tried, you really did. You had ‘yes’ typed out and drafted, but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d pick Nick up from the house, or he’d get an Uber, but you couldn’t step foot in there.

You’d never been one to run away from anything, especially when it could start conflict, but this was…uncharted territory. Matt didn’t text you again after that, but every time Nick saw you, he complained about how Matt was acting like a kicked puppy, and today was no exception.

“I just don’t understand why he’s moping around all the time.” He said, flopping down on your bed and groaning. You couldn’t take hiding this from him anymore, so you sighed and opened your phone, opening the text from Matt and showing Nick. He glanced over, his eyes scanning over the text for longer than it should have taken.

It was quite a few moments before he reacted, but after fully processing it, he shot up and whipped around to face you, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Why haven’t you answered him? It’s no wonder he’s all out of whack!” Nick exclaimed. You knew he didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it still felt like a jab to your chest. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over your face to muffle your scream into it. You pulled it away and hugged it close to you.

“I don’t know! I can’t…I can’t bring myself to answer it. I want nothing more than to answer him. Like, if he feels the same way that’s great and we can go from there, but if he doesn’t but still wants to be friends, it’ll be awkward even when I do get over him and, fuck! I don’t know what to do.” You completely let everything out, all of the worry and stress and frustration towards yourself completely diminishing as tears pooled in your eyes and a choked sob left your lips.

The crazy thing was that you knew that your crying wasn’t because you were hurting or sad—it was just such a relief to finally get everything you’d been feeling off of your chest that your body reacted in the only way it could. Nick wasted no time as he pulled you into his arms and held you, letting you get it out of your system before saying anything else.

When the tears finally stopped and your breathing was even, Nick pulled away but kept his hands on your shoulders. His eyes were locked on yours, full of love and care.

“First, never hold anything in like that. I don’t care what the topic is, it’s not worth the pain of keeping it in.” He said, his voice soft but stern. You nodded and wiped at your cheeks. Nick sighed and looked down, pulling his hands to his lap and fidgeting with his fingers before he looked back up. “Second, you should talk to Matt. He’s the only person that can find a solution to this situation that will be good for the both of you. He is the one you should be telling your worries to, because he is the only other person that knows exactly how you are feeling.”

You loved and hated when Nick was right. You knew you could only avoid this without going completely insane for so long, and eventually you’d have to get over yourself and just talk to him, even if it didn’t go well. Regardless of the outcome, you grabbed your phone and finally sent the message, locking it and dropping your phone into your lap.

Nick’s smile was all of the reassurance you needed.

You’d been pacing in your bedroom since Nick left, each minute on your clock going up making your heart race that much faster. Matt had told you he was on his way ten minutes ago, which meant he should be walking into your apartment at any moment, and it was agonizing.

Waiting had never been your strong suit, and the torturously slow build up was the proof. You had decided against doing this a million times, telling yourself that he wasn’t coming and you should just text him nevermind, but then having to convince yourself that he was coming and that you needed to chill out. It was a vicious cycle.

The sound of him knocking on your door made your skin crawl, every atom in your body at attention as you walked through your apartment and hesitated before pulling the door open. Matt was standing there, his eyes darting from the floor to you when you gestured for him to come in. You led him to the couch and sat down, not a word spoken between you until you finally looked into his eyes and word vomited all over the place.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay.”

Matt sighed and looked down. “Y/n.” He said, but once you start you can't stop.

“I just don’t want you to feel awkward and there’s this weird tension around every time we’re in the same room.” You said, Matt looking up with his mouth agape.

“What? Y/n—”

You dropped your head and looked into your lap. “I just hate the thought of losing you in any way, I just want you to know that it’s fine and I can get over this so you don’t have to feel wei—”

You were cut off completely when your head was lifted and Matt’s lips were on yours. Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks, his thumbs resting on your cheekbones. It was over soon before you could process it, your eyes opening when he pulled away to see him looking at you sternly.

“Would you shut up for a second?” He said, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. You nodded once, your wide eyes watching his every movement.

“Now, I want to say that you ignoring me sucked.” He started. You opened your mouth to apologize, but the look on his face had you shutting it completely and waiting for him to finish. “Thank you. It sucked, but it’s okay. I’m just glad that we’re talking now.” He said.You nodded as he sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Now that it seems I’ve made my feelings clear, I have some questions for you.” You nodded again, not fully able to speak yet.

“So, you like me?” He asked. You sighed, nodding reluctantly for the third time. You’d answer the next question out loud, once your heart had left your throat. Matt nodded and looked down, his cheeks pink. “For how long?”

You thought for a moment before scoffing—you couldn’t think of a specific moment. “How long have we known each other?” You asked humorlessly, Matt smiling and lifting his head.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked. You were staring at the pillow separating the two of you, pinching at it and removing nonexistent pieces of lint. You had absolutely no idea. You’d told yourself that you had to convince him that it was okay if he didn’t feel the same so many times, that you didn’t even think about what would happen if he did.

“I don’t know.” You said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes.

Matt was already watching you, his eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips. He hummed and pursed his lips, feigning being hard in thought. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as his face lit up.

“How about—we take it slow, and let things happen naturally? The only thing we know for certain is how we feel.” He suggested, your heart racing as you processed the possibilities. “And no overthinking, just go with the flow.” He said, your smile growing as you nodded.

“I can get down with that.”

[six-eyed-samurai]

Firstly congratulations on your followers! :) Secondly maybe the prompt R is for Romance from your yandere list with either reader and Rengoku or Dabi(from mha)? You don't have to do it if you don't want too, but I hope your day's good!

SUMMARY: A drunken game on the rooftop was not how you imagined would be the reason you were suddenly locked into a basement by none other than Dabi himself A/N: TY TY! Sadly my Yandere Alphabet is actually for neutral characters, however I can still pull off the R is for Romance for you! I was having a good day, ty, my best friend came back today lmao WARNINGS: This is yandere, so MDNI and in no way do I condone this sort of relationship. Also alcohol, swearing, maybe OOC Dabi (I did my best I'm sorry) My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

"Good Lord what letter comes after M?"

"O, stupid."

"Shut it Panda Eyes." You threw the bottle cap at your companion. He went cross eyed tracking it but maybe he was just drunk.

You both were, actually. Very much inebriated on top of some rooftop (how did you get up there again? Never mind it was going to give you an even bigger headache to try and remember) of some building in some place you had long forgotten during the alcohol binge you two were on. You wouldn't have pulled this sort of dumb stunt usually but after a successful night (successful...something. Ugh, what sort of damned drink had Dabi bought?) he had convinced you that it was good to celebrate. Just you and him, the after party.

An after party with lots and lots of alcohol. There was still more and you reached for another bottle, tilting it back. Then your eyes narrowed, turning to the turquoise pair staring at you. "Bullshit! You liar, it's N!"

"If you (beep) knew, why ask?" Dabi chucked his bottle cap at you. The caps littered the ground everywhere around you both, actually, as the both of you had agreed that it would be the punishment if the other was unable to continue the game.

The game, right. You had made a dumb joke about a team-building exercise and what a great time it would be to do it now even though the rest of the League wasn't here, then Dabi had followed it up with a sly suggestion of Eye Spy. You elbowed him and complained it was boring. He jabbed his finger into your side and in the end the both of you agreed to play a game of Word Association following the alphabet. Only problem was the both of you were idiots.

"I forgot! You got it wrong as well!"

Dabi rolled his eyes. "Just get the hell on with it."

"Okay! N for uh...nap?"

"Boring. N for...nonsense."

"You're boring. O for...obsession."

Dabi raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. "O for only."

"P for...platypus? Shit, what was that cartoon? The one where that duck thingy - platypus, sorry - wore a hat?"

"What the hell do you even watch?" Dabi snorted. "The first thing you think of is platypus?"

"You literally said M for magnesium just now," you grumbled, finishing your bottle and snatching his.

"After you said L for Bozo. That doesn't even make sense."

"I changed it off to L for love!"

"Once again, ew," Dabi sighed. "P for perfect."

"Q for...queue."

"So original. Q for queen."

"I hate you so much." You threw your head back. "R for-"

"Romance."

A beat of silence. Then you burst out laughing. "What in the actual-?"

"What? Your L got me thinking," Dabi protested, oddly defensive, going as far as to turn away.

“Thinking of someone?” You teased, crawling closer.

“Yeah.” Dabi smirked and you ignored the twang in your heart to widen your grin.

“Hmmm….anyone I know?” You blinked. “Actually, I can’t believe I never asked before. What’s your type? Tall, short, long hair, freckles, innocent, bratty, big ass?”

Dabi arched an eyebrow. “You thinking of somebody?”

“NO!” You flushed and blamed it on alcohol. “I’ll tell you my type if you do.”

“And what is your type, princess?”

You decided to ignore the nickname. “To be honest I don’t really mind as long as he’s…uh, nice? I dunno. Just someone who can show me a good time.”

“Had no idea you were into that.”

“I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!” You whacked his arm. “Like, I want a guy who’s gonna come over on time, pick me up, take me to a place not necessarily dinner. Maybe an arcade date, mall date, anything is fine. Just talk and listen, you know? And drive me back, walk me to the door, say goodnight and shit. ‘Cause dating for me is getting to know someone really well and…yeah, know them inside out.”

“I have no idea whatever the (beep) it was you just said. You’re so eloquent when drunk.”

“Shut up. Like you’re not. I just want a gentleman. Respects boundaries and all that shit but I want someone - oh god this sounds stupid - who’s gonna make the effort with me to be our first and last. Does that make sense now?” You flopped onto your back. “I need another drink.”

“That? That’s it?” Dabi snorted and laughed. “Your ideal romance?”

“At least I can pull!” You realized you both were out of bottles and groaned. “Your turn.”

Dabi paused for a moment, then suddenly his face loomed over you in another smirk. “I’ll sum it up in one word. You. Can I take you on an “arcade date, mall date, anything is fine” tomorrow?”

And somehow you wound up anxiously pacing around the entrance of the local arcade Dabi had said he’d take you to anyway. You had already purchased some tokens, thanked God you hadn’t overdressed in your panic earlier, taken a few sips of water and what else? Right, fret your brains out over whether or not this was just a horrible joke made while inebriated.

“What the (beep).”

***

Because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t fancy Dabi himself.

Ain’t no way he had basically just confessed like that. Nuh uh. He was probably just as out of it like you were and in the blurred haze made a mistake. A stupid mistake that was twisting your heart and insides hard.

Yet why were you here? Because you’re delusional that’s why. And because the way he had said it last night seemed so sincere.

“Well, well, looks like I failed in being the gentleman, huh?”

“You did,” you quip out of habit, but your tone’s shaky. “No pick up?”

“I have no idea where you live,” Dabi said smoothly. “It’s alright, I’ve got plenty of ways to make up for it soon enough.”

“I dunno. You’re not a gentleman.”

***

But he was and it was…insane. Absolutely amazing and flattering and oh good god you couldn’t even describe it but it was completely INSANE how much Dabi proved you wrong with this behavior over the next six months of you and him dating. Because he kept proving your wrong, each time, that in fact he COULD BE a gentleman when he wanted to.

He came to go pick you up and followed you home. He always knew exactly what you wanted on the menu after pulling out your chair. He listened.

Dabi made the effort to be your first and last, like you said, unlike the flings before. He said as much on the last date. You were utterly head over heels, besotted, infatuated with him even more so when he admitted he had liked you from the start but wasn’t sure when was a good time to tell you.

So of course he was the first one you called in a panic when you discovered the camera in your bathroom.

You couldn’t believe you never noticed it before - and it terrified more that it could’ve been watching the unsuspecting you for god knew how long. It was only pure chance that you had suddenly spotted a peculiar glint in the mirror when wiping off the fog, partially hidden by your shower curtain. Oh god, oh god, oh god-

“Dabi?”

“Yeah, princess?” The crack in your voice had been exceedingly audible, as was his concerned tone. “You good?”

“There’sacameraspyingonmeinthebathroomIdon’tknowhowlongit’sbeenthere-”

“There you go again,” Dabi sighed, but his voice was placating, reassuring. “Slower this time?”

You took a deep breath. “I found a camera. In my bathroom. Some creep’s SPYING ON ME!”

“Get out of there right now and calm down, alright, sweetheart? I’ll be over in a minute.”

“You think the heroes put it there?”!”

“Doll, they’re horrible but they ain’t perverts. What’s so interesting in your bathroom besides you anyway?” Dabi’s joke came out tense and you heard a lot of background noise. “Look, like I said, get out of there. Don’t try to take it down-”

“Oops…”

“I’ll be over soon,” Dabi repeated and hung up.

You steadied yourself before examining the camera in your hand, sitting against the ladder that you had used to get up there. It was an ordinary CCTV looking thing and you had used a towel to cover the lens before taking it down. The wires stuck out and pricked at your palms.

Who would be watching you like this?

You needed air - the bathroom was too cramped suddenly. You ran out into your bedroom and threw open the window, dumping the camera on the ground, dry heaving while leaning out. You finally calmed down sufficiently to slide down the wall with a groan, tilting your head back while you anxiously waited for Dabi to show up.

Shit. No, no, no-

There was another camera hidden by the curtains.

Hysterical tears began streaking down your face. How long you had been there in a sobbing panic attack you didn’t know, barely hearing your front door open and the footsteps thundering into your bedroom. You didn’t register anything until you were suddenly wrapped up in Dabi’s arms, head tucked against his chest as he awkwardly stroked your hair.

“Hey, calm down, alright?”

“I’m scared. I’m so damn scared that someone’s been watching me all this time. You know there’s another camera? I found another.” You hiccuped and exhaled. “Okay, okay, I’m calm now.”

“Great. Let’s get you a drink of water and we’ll talk.”

He led you to the kitchen and poured you a glass, the both of you seated at your small dining table while you fought to clear your head. Dabi watched you intently, tapping his foot on the ground.

So you had discovered the cameras, huh? A bad thing, but the fact that you had called him meant you had no idea it was him…just as well, really. Dabi could use this to his advantage - make you more dependent on him.

He internally chuckled. You hadn’t noticed the burn on your wall near the cameras then, when he had accidentally caught a wire aflame setting it up.

But outwardly he twisted his face into one of concern.

“We can’t report this to the police,” he started. “You’re a known member of the League.”

“Then what? I’m not staying here anymore!”

“You could live with me.” He caught your expression and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, but you sure are eager, huh?”

“SH-SHUT IT!”

“Back to the point. Your stalker might’ve put up some other cameras, not just your bathroom or your bedroom window. You could live with me while we look for the bastard,” Dabi said, quite convincingly. “I’ll take care of you. Ideal romance, right?”

You snorted a half laugh at that. “You really do surprise me - wait.”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The camera.” You felt yourself turning cold. Frozen. No way could it…”I didn’t tell you where I found the second camera’s location.”

“I found you crying underneath the window, princess. Sorry if I made the wrong assumption,” Dabi said apologetically. Inside he wondered if you were going to force his hand. His grip on the cup tightened. Stupid mistake.

“No…not only that.” You leapt your feet. “How did you get into my house anyway? I never took you here or gave you the key. You only ever walked me to the front door but I didn't tell you which floor I lived on or which apartment block. I locked the door, I’m sure. And how did you know where my bedroom was?”

“I could hear you weeping your eyeballs out from out there,” Dabi scoffed, getting to his feet as well. “I busted down your door.”

You backed away. “How did you know where I live then? And - and that day, when I nearly got mugged, you just showed up out of nowhere. Do you have a tracker on me?”

He said nothing.

“You put the cameras there, didn’t you?” Your whisper came out hoarse.

Dabi stepped closer and suddenly you realized exactly what a powerful presence he was as he leaned closer, trapping you against the table. “I did it all for us, y’know? For you. I had to know everything to keep you safe, be the perfect guy for you. Wasn’t that your ideal romance? Thanks for the tip, by the way, that night on the rooftop. It helped me realize exactly how to make you love me like I love you.”

“I don’t love a monstrous creep like you!”

His eyes flashed with hurt and heartbreak. “You will. Please.”

Dabi must’ve put something in your drink, you also realized; your knees buckled and you blacked out.

***

You awoke in a dark, stuffy room. Not like you were expecting anything less.

And he was right in front of you - that you didn’t expect. You would’ve lunged at your former love if you could, but the effects of whatever had knocked you out hadn’t left your body yet, making everything a blurry photograph and your limbs jelly. Something like cold metal bit into your wrists as well. Dabi just stared at you flatly.

“Why?” The word slipped out before you knew it. “If you say you love me, why? Why all this? Just for your sick idea of romance? You’re sick. You’re so sick I don’t know how I never knew it before. You…really are a damn villain.”

“You won’t let me protect you anymore. Keep watch.” Dabi shrugged. “I tried to do it your way, be your gentleman. Then you made me do it my way. You think I want this too? Rather see you happy and oblivious, really, but it’s not like you gave me a choice.”

“You never gave me a choice from the start!”

“I did,” Dabi corrected coldly.

You were grasping at straws and he knew it. “You think everyone’s not gonna notice if I just disappear?”

A warm hand suddenly clasped your cheek. Dabi really did look like a devil, you thought blearily, with all that staples and burns in the dark, with that expression.

“I faked my own death. I can fake yours.”

[delphiniumblooms]

HI @ninsletamain !!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR and here is your gift fic! you asked for Roommates/Neighbors, College AU, Angst with a happy ending, Fantasy AU, Recovering in the sick bay, and Fix-It, and I think I've got at least half of these prompts!

Inspired by a true story from my friend Treagus and my own experiences as a college student staying in dorms :)

There is something wrong with Jyn's thermostat.

She's checked the set temperature about ten times already in the past two hours and she's sure it's at 15°C, which is the minimum. The actual temperature it's showing, however, is 35°C. Thirty-five degrees! That's almost human body temperature. And it feels like it, too. She's already stripped down to a bra and shorts, and she's still sweating.

She's opened all her windows and it hasn't even helped. There's zero breeze. It's supposed to be winter, but her weather app says it's 20°C outside. It's absolutely ridiculous. Climate change and all that, she supposes.

It still doesn't explain why it's 35°C indoors, though.

She really doesn't have time for this. She has an assignment due in two hours, but it's way too hot to concentrate properly.

She jabs at the ‘set temperature’ button again and groans. Fuck student housing and its stupid broken shit.

Maybe one of her neighbours will know what to do about it. Even if not, the stairwell has to be cooler than her room.

She crosses the landing and knocks on the door opposite hers. No answer. Bodhi must be out.

Sighing, she troops downstairs. Is she imagining it, or is it getting hotter?

She raps on the door of one of the third-floor apartments, and thankfully, it opens.

“Uh, hi,” she says to the guy who opens it. She doesn't think she's seen him before, but then she doesn't really talk to anyone not on her floor anyway.

He looks at her quizzically.

“Um, I live directly upstairs. I think my thermostat's broken. I was wondering if you know what to do about it?”

“No, sorry. I just moved in yesterday,” he replies, frowning. “I'm here on exchange.”

“Oh,” she says, then it occurs to her to ask, “Is yours working? It feels kinda hot here too.”

He looks over his shoulder, presumably at his thermostat. “Yes, I think so.”

“What temperature do you have it at?”

“25,” he says.

“Oh my god.” Everything is clicking into place now. “Why do you have it at 25? That's hotter than it is outside! No wonder it's a fucking furnace in my room. Are you insane?”

“No. I'm just cold,” he snaps, scowling, and closes the door in her face.

“Dude!” she yells. What is with this guy?

She balls her hands into fists and stomps back upstairs. Screw this. She really needs to work.

She heads back upstairs to grab her laptop and makes a quick trip to the vending machine on the first floor for a cold drink. Alternating between taking swigs from it and holding the can against her neck, she balances her laptop on her knees in the stairwell between the first and second floors and tries her damndest to bang out something halfway decent. It’s still warm here, but it’s better than upstairs.

She clicks the ‘submit’ button three minutes before the deadline and waves her hands around in an attempt to dry off the sweat on them. At least this is done.

She shuts her laptop, tosses the can into the recycling bin, and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, it’s still 35 in her room. How is she going to get any sleep tonight?

Where is that guy even from and what’s his problem? Honestly, she didn’t even know you could turn the thermostat that high. She’d complain to the resident advisor, but he’s never in. This is what you get when you pick the cheapest apartment that can’t pay its staff. Next year, she’ll save on something else and rent a nicer place.

For now, all she can do is cuss the guy downstairs out while dabbing at her armpits with a damp towel. She’s a computing student. She can handle a night without sleep.

She spends the next day asleep in all her classes, but mercifully the temperature outside dips to 5 at night, and even if the floor is a little warm it’s a lot more bearable.

A couple days later, it occurs to her that she should probably apologise to Third Floor Guy. The weather is better now, and she’s getting used to the slightly heated floor. Being hot always makes her irritable and angry, but that’s not really a good excuse to be mean to some poor exchange student. She is under no delusion that she’s a good person, but she feels like she should try. After all, when she first moved in here two years ago, it helped that Bodhi was nice to her. She knows it’s partly because her dad told him to, but that’s fine.

She tells him as much over chips in his room, and he nods. “Yeah, I think you… you should. Doesn’t hurt to… be nice.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, okay. I'll… I'll leave the door… open. For moral… moral support.”

She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that it's normal if he reacts negatively, and troops down to the third floor.

Her hand hasn't even touched the door when she realises that it's been left a little ajar. She raps on the doorframe instead, and there is a soft, pained sound in reply.

“Hello?” she whispers, a little frightened. When she gets no answer, she pushes the door open.

Third Floor Guy is lying on the floor, and oh goodness fuck there is a lot of blood.

Shit shit shit shit shit fuck. She rushes to his side and touches his face. “Hello? Hello? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

He doesn't respond, and she looks around in panic, trying to figure out what he did to himself. There is a smudge of blood on the corner of the desk above him, and it looks like he hit his head on it. Holy shit.

“BODHI!” she bellows. “BODHI, CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!”

“WHAT?” his voice echoes down the stairs.

Third Floor Guy has a head wound, and it looks like it's still bleeding.

“GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE!” She tries very hard to recall whatever first aid knowledge she has, and gets up quickly, grabbing the quilt off the bed and wadding it up, pressing it to the guy's head.

Bodhi comes crashing into the room. “Ambulance called. Ho… shit.”

“Yeah,” she replies. A thought seizes her. “Oh god, what if he dies thinking I'm an asshole?”

“Don't say that!” Bodhi snaps. “Is he breathing?”

She checks. “I think…?”

“Okay. Okay. How… how long—”

“They should be here in seven minutes,” she says. “If BBC Sherlock wasn't bullshitting.”

Bodhi stares at her and takes a deep breath.

“Don't you start hyperventilating, or I'm going to too and we'll use up all the oxygen in here.”

He breathes out. “Right.”

In a few minutes the room is awhirl with paramedics and Bodhi's looking like he really wants to get out of here, but she feels compelled to make sure this poor bastard is all right.

“I'll go with him. Help clean up later?”

Bodhi grimaces and nods.

She wedges herself into the ambulance with the stretcher and studies the pale, wan face atop it. He is dark-haired, moustached, and very thin. He looks ill, and small, and she starts to feel really bad about shouting at him for being cold.

“Will he wake up?” she asks the paramedic who's fitting an oxygen mask on him.

“Depends,” they say, and she wants to throw something.

They make her stay in the waiting area while they bring him to god knows where, and she paces nervously, then looks up a Wikihow article on getting blood out of carpet and texts it to Bodhi.

Will come back to help once he's ok.

Third Floor Guy ends up needing a couple of transfusions and a huge bandage covering one eye, but the stare she receives from the uncovered one when she's allowed to see him is very much alert and hateful and immediately makes her shift uncomfortably.

“I wanted to say I'm sorry,” she tells him. “And then I found you in a pool of your own blood.”

He continues to stare at her the same way, and she wonders if he didn't understand or he's sustained some brain damage from the fall.

“You're a university student?” a nurse asks him.

He nods.

“What's your name and major?”

“Cassian Andor. Political science and mechanical engineering.”

“Oh no,” Jyn moans. “He's still addled in the head.”

The nurse completely ignores her, checking this against a file they're holding. “No cognitive impairment,” they say. “You're all right,” they add over their shoulder as they leave the room.

“Seriously?” She can't help herself.

Cassian Andor shrugs. “Double degree.”

“I'm sorry—”

“They say I have iron-deficiency anaemia. Which is why I feel so cold. I never noticed because I come from a tropical country. It was a bad fall, but I got lucky. I'll get better.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling even more idiotic and terrible. “I am so sorry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says. “It's okay that you're hot.”

“Don't apologise. It makes me feel worse.”

But he turns his face towards her and gives her a small, lopsided smile that does things to her insides, and it registers in her head what he's said.

“Bodhi from my floor is cleaning your blood out of your carpet,” she blurts, because she can't think of what else to say.

“Okay,” he says, and his smile widens. He is a sight to behold, she thinks. The white bandage in his dark hair, the smile on his pale lips, the flirty joke despite the gravity of the situation.

“I'm not sure you don't have cognitive impairment.”

He shrugs again. “Who cares?”

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: This might a 2 or 3 parter. College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that troupe and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing I think, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Derogatory use of the word puck bunny. Bucky is a playboy. There is not interaction be MC and Bucky quite yet.

Word Court: 1935

Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned as you threw your head back against the worn couch. 

“I want the project to focus on movement, but lifelike movement. Human movement.” You mocked your professor. It not being nature themed had to be a jab just for you. All your projects were nature related or still motion. 

“Professor Grace wasn’t targeting you,” Wanda said, letting out a chuckle at your dramatics. 

“Are you sure you’re not a drama major?” Pietro laughed as he threw a butter packet at you. 

“You two are the worst,” you sighed as you threw your arm over your eyes. Twins, why did my best friends have to be twins. The world is cruel, your thoughts drift.

“Why don’t you come to the track and draw me?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response.  

“Eh,” you sighed. You didn’t want a solution at the moment. You just wanted to complain. 

“She just wants to vent guys,” Natasha said as she came through the door holding a couple bags of takeout and a box of wine. “And I doubt she wants to see you and the rest of the track team in those tiny little running shorts you call clothing,” she sassed at Pietro. He just laughed, and stuck a pose with his leg up on the bar stool next to the island counter causing you all to laugh with him. 

“Thank you,” you exclaimed as she handed you your food. You threw a 10 at her and settled back down into the couch. 

“You know, you could come by the rink and draw a couple of the guys,” Nat mentioned. Her long term boyfriend was on the hockey team, Clint, a sharpshooting winger nicknamed Hawkeye. 

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “I’m not going to have them think I’m one of those, puck kitties, or whatever they’re called.” 

“Puck bunny,” Wanda chimed in, you pointed your chopstick at her and smiled. 

Natasha let out a loud laugh, one of those full bodied ones, “god they won’t think that.” You raised your eyebrow at her and gave her an incredulous look. 

“I can’t have them showing off because I’m there. I need to get them in their element. Not focused on what I’m doing,” you groaned again. “Biggest issue is I will need permission from the person or people. So they’ll have to know.” 

“Like I said Princessa, draw me. You have my permission,” Pietro winked, you rolled your eyes at him. 

“You’re too obvious of a choice. And as much as Wanda insists that Professor Grace doesn’t have a personal vendetta against me, she’ll love pointing out I picked the safe option,” you whined. 

“Wanda, you haven’t seen Grace in class. She will take any chance to criticize her pieces. Nitpicking to the extreme.” Natasha chimed in, “if it wasn’t for Dr. Rain I think our resident artist would've failed out of this course by now.” Dr. Rain was the head of the art department and after a wholly undergraded piece you submitted last semester Prof. Grace was on thin ice. So she graded you fairly but took every chance to tear you apart in front of the class. 

“I’ll think about the hockey team. It would be the least expected from me anyway,” you signed and got up from the couch taking everyone’s garbage and throwing it out. Football season was over, but the hockey season was in full swing right now and our team was top of the league. 

“They have practice tomorrow night, you should come by and look at it,” Nat said, giving you a knowing look. 

~The Next Day~

That's how you ended up in the rink. Underdressed because you didn’t realize how cold an ice rink would be in the stands. You were right though, about the type of girls that hung out there, they were scantily dressed and leaning over the tunnel that the players exited and entered from. How they weren’t frozen baffled you. 

Nat was sitting reading a chemistry book across from you near the bench, as you didn’t want the team knowing you knew her. Well everyone but Clint. You’ve hung out quite a few times over the past couple years. You took a seat a few rows up opposite the bench near what Nat called the Sin bin (penalty box.) It gave an excellent undisrupted view of the rink and the players as they practiced. 

The sounds of skates gliding over fresh ice and sticks bouncing off it was an almost soothing sound. The puck skittered across the ice as it was passed between teammates and shot toward the empty net. The goalie, a guy named Quill, was performing some kind of ritual at the opposite end of the rink. Nat mentioned he was a bit of an odd duck. But according to her all goalies were odd in their own ways. 

The movement was fluid and easy to follow. How these giant men moved so weightlessly across the ice left you in awe. The Captain of the team was a blonde center named Steve Rogers, better known as Cap. Most of the school knew him, he was in a few of your art classes over the semesters. His girlfriend Peggy, was the student union president. 

The star of the team was his blurry best friend James “Bucky” Barnes. He was a “winger,” with good prospects for the NHL according to Nat as she gave you a lowdown of the team as you guys went there just after practice started. He was nicknamed the White Wolf. How a man of his size moved that easily was mesmerizing, he almost floated over the ice and it looked like he was dancing. He was sinfully handsome as well. Every other week he had a new girl hanging off his arm. Undoubtedly one of those puck bunnies as they were called. He was the talk of the school after the football season concluded. 

It made you dislike him on principle. The sports were definitely more priority in the school and the art department lacked thanks to these overgrown toddlers on skates. But you couldn’t deny his natural handsomeness, he looked effortlessly handsome and it was almost unfair. 

You looked down at your sketch pad that you had been absently scratching at. Bucky seemed to be your muse because you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly skated around the rink. You were in danger and you knew it. You gulped and closed the book before quickly gathering your things and leaving. 

It didn’t take Nat long to text you and ask where you went. You sent her a quick message back saying you were cold. Not that Bucky, the school's playboy, had quickly become the muse of your piece. 

“Nat, I thought you said your friend was coming by,” Clint asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“She did, she left because she was cold,” Nat chuckled. 

“Anyone know the pretty one watching by the sin bin?” She overheard Wilson ask. “And what she was doing?” 

“I think I was in a couple art classes with her,” Steve mentioned missing your name. 

“I won’t complain if she comes by again,” Barnes said. Wilson raised a brow at him. 

“What, so you can break her heart well?” 

“Look doll, it’s not you,” 

“It’s me.” Wilson and Stark said together. Barnes shot both men a glare. Then the high pitched whine of Barnes newest fling squealed his name and that was Clint and Nat’s queue to hightail it out of there. The collective groans from the rest of the team matched her thoughts. 

~A couple days later~

“Loki, I don’t know what I’m going to do, this project is worth too much for me to go safe,” you sighed as you laid your head on his lap. He was reading some classic novel for his English class in the student commons. His fingers nimbly moved through your hair as he held the book in the other hand. 

“Darling, just go back to the ice rink,” he knew almost immediately when something was up when you were walking together a couple days later. The perspective bastard. Loki was your best friend since middle school, his brother Thor was the star quarterback for the football team in both high school and here. 

“Why would I do that,” you pouted. 

“Because you clearly want to draw this man, and it will ruin you for months just like that piece you did of Helena,” he said shortly. Helena or Hela was his big sister and she was absolutely stunning. You had pined over drawing her for a piece for months before Loki forced you to ask her. It fixed everything and life back to normal after you painted the piece. 

“I hate when you do that,” you whined, his eyes flicking down to your face. 

“Hate what darling,” he mused. 

“That, being reasonable and knowing what I need before I admit what I need to do.” He laughed and ruffled your hair affectionately. 

“Comes with years of experience,” he sighed and placed his book down next to his leg. “Do bundle up this time will you,” he called as you walked away, you quickly flipped him the bird as you rounded the corner. 

And there you were back at the rink again. Although tonight was a game night and the rink was packed. “20 dollars,” a nasally boy said as he pushed his glasses up, he looked bored out of his mind. 

“Pardon?” You asked, looking at him. 

“It’s 20 dollars to get in the game,” he said in an annoyed tone. 

“Oh, I’m a student,” you showed your ID card, he rolled his eyes, “5 dollars.” You nodded and placed the five down. Only partners of the team got in free. Perk of fucking one of the team members you guessed, that must have outweighed the fear of them cheating or getting bored. You knew that wasn’t fair. At least two of the guys were in committed relationships and one was in an on again off again relationship. The rest though you weren’t sure, you shock your head at the thought. 

You caught the flaming red hair of Nat in her reserved seat next to the bench, Peggy was next to her. There were a few open seats at the top of the rink, not great from getting a good view of what you needed to draw. But it would have to do. Instantly your eyes were drawn to Barnes, number 17, flying up the ice leaving the opposing team in the dust, snow? With a quick flick of his wrist the puck was shot sideways and Barton scored. The crowd stood and cheered loudly. You wished you had ear plugs now. The buzzer was insanely loud and made your ears ring. How Nat enjoyed this you’d never understand. Barton. You thought, Nat wasn’t big on sports, but she was big on her sweet boyfriend. 

You focused on Barnes as he showboated around the rink, celebrating his assist. He moved so fluidly, you were mesmerized. You drew many little pieces focusing on the movement trying to capture the effortlessness of him skating. You were startled from your drawing when the buzzer screeched again the crowd roared in applause. The team scored again and it seemed to be Barnes that scored this time. Hats flew onto the ice as he skated around. That was odd, you squinted at the action. His eyes caught yours for a split second as he rushed past and it felt like eternity. 

Read Chapter 2 here

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more <3

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”