#honestly i feel like she too would be able to understand his muttering

[epickiya722]

I think what needs to be talked about more about Midoriya is how adept he is. Like, he'll observe and apply and it's nearly effortless for him. And sometimes to great comedic effect!

I'm catching up with the TUM and got to chapter 36. Spoilers for anyone who hasn't read the manga. Summary!

So, Camie (who know Miss Glam Queen) she has been training her quirk and asked Todoroki for help through group chat. She's training her quirk and needs descriptions so she can conjure up illusions. Of course, given it's Camie, Todoroki is happy to help but doesn't understand how she talks/messages.

Midoriya takes over and within seconds he figures out just talk how she does. Here's the thing though. He picks up how she talks and easily there's back and forth between them because Midoriya understands and correctly texts back to her.

Because he likes learning about quirks, as expected he gets invested.

Not only that, by the end, he was so influenced he started talking like her! THIS CHAPTER WAS TOO FREAKING FUNNY!! ꉂ(≧▽≦)

[lelengerine]

pairing. na jaemin x reader

synopsis. you and jaemin had always believed in a future together, but as the years pass, and growing up starts to get in the way, you begin to wonder if some promises were never meant to last forever.

tags. childhood best friends to strangers, angst haha 😞, honestly jaem is a little toxic… just a little, the time skips are a bit wide but oh well, no specific prns are used

wc. 4.0k words

notes. hii its been a while TT i’ve been drowning from school work yet again but i managed to whip this up somehow (the longest thing ive ever written here so far) !! thank u my lovely pookies @teddyjun + @pwblant for proofreading this 😙🩷 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list ꒱

you first met jaemin when you were ten years old. 

the world was still big then, impossibly so, and yet, in his smile, you found a place to call your own. he was messy—his knees perpetually scraped, his grin too wide, as if he were holding the weight of all the impossibilities in life and yet, still finds time to laugh. his hand would reach for yours, tug you into the sunlight, and you both found yourselves running, the soft grass beneath your feet, breathless laughter spilling out between your gasps. it’s the simplest of moments, but you don’t know yet that this will be a forever built on a thousand such moments, moments too beautiful to question but too fleeting to understand.

it starts that way, with the purity of a child’s promise. the world is too big, too wide, but with jaemin by your side, it feels like you could touch the stars on your tippy toes if you tried hard enough. you make promise rings together one afternoon, and his face brims with excitement, eyes alight with the kind of certainty only a child could hold. "we’re meant to be together," he says, "no matter what happens."

“you sound so sure of it.”

“yeah, cause i’m not leaving you ever!”

you laugh at his response, a small sound that’s heavy with the weight of unspoken belief. your hands work quickly, clumsily, folding notebook paper into shapes that barely resemble rings, but when you slip them on each other’s fingers, neither of you question it. there is no doubt. this moment, like so many before it, feels sacred. a bond sealed not in reality, but in the purest of intentions. it’s a promise for the future—your future—and you both believe it, with all of your hearts.

"one day, i’ll start my own company," he utters out while fiddling on the ring you made him, voice filled with such quiet determination. "and we’ll be able to live together."

you smile, a perfect answer ready for him. "and i’ll be an artist," your voice carries the excitement you have, "i’ll have my own gallery and, oh! my paintings can decorate our home!"

he squeezes your hand, fingers tightening like he’s anchoring both of you to this moment, to the future you’ve already built together in your dreams. "i’ll be your first investor," he says, a laugh of his spilling out, one full of hope.

“do you even know what that means?” your eyebrow quirks up at him.

“isn’t that what they call it?” he looks at you, head tilted with slight confusion. “i heard my mom say something like how she was going to invest in someone the other day so i’ll invest in you.”

"fine.” you mutter with a sense of nonchalance, though you were more than happy with his answer. “i’ll have a painting ready for you then.”

“you’ll finish it in time?”

“please, who do you take me for?” you swat his shoulder, but there isn’t an ounce of malicious intent as you do so.

the sun is setting, and you are both wrapped in the warmth of those moments, of those words, of that belief. it’s easy then, to believe in forever. you believe in him, in the future he paints with such certainty. 

you believe in the promises that hang between you, so heavy, so real.

ʚɞ

you used to believe that some things were unshakable. that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much life rearranged itself, certain people—certain feelings—would always remain within reach, but lately, with jaemin, you’re beginning to wonder if that’s really true.

it’s not obvious at first. just little things, small enough to ignore.

the way your messages sit on delivered longer than they used to. the way his responses come slower, more detached, like you’re a conversation he’s having in the margins of his life rather than in the center of it.

the way he no longer texts first.

you tell yourself you’re overthinking it. after all, people get busy. life gets in the way. yet try as hard as you might, the thought lingers, gnawing at the quiet spaces in your mind.

when was the last time he reached out first?

it shouldn’t feel like a risk to send a message. it never used to. but now, as you hover over his name in your contacts, your fingers hesitate just slightly before typing.

you up?

the text sends. you exhale.

and then you wait.

a minute passes. then two.

when the typing bubbles finally appear, a flicker of hope stirs in your chest, a quiet relief that maybe you were just imagining things.

hey, sorry, got caught up with another project. how’s everything with you?

it’s normal, it’s fine. but as you stare at the message, something about it feels... off.

perhaps it’s the way it’s phrased, so polite, so surface-level, when jaemin has never been the kind of person to keep things so distant with you. or maybe it's the way his words don’t quite carry the warmth they used to, like they’ve been filtered through a screen that dulls them just enough to make you feel the difference.

you shake the thought away and type back quickly.

i’m good, just the usual!

his next message comes just as fast.

cool. i gotta go—let’s catch up later?

three words. no specifics. no real promise.

you hesitate before responding. it’s not like he’s brushing you off. he’s just busy.

yeah, sure.

and yet, even after you set your phone down, the feeling lingers—the quiet weight of something slipping, so slowly that you can’t quite tell if you’re imagining it or if it’s really happening.

a few days later, you do manage to meet jaemin at your neighborhood’s café. a part of you hopes—foolishly, maybe—that seeing him in person will make everything feel normal again, that whatever weird distance has been settling between you will dissolve the moment you’re face-to-face, but when he finally walks in, he barely looks up from his phone. no teasing grin, no easy warmth. just a quick glance in your direction before he slides into the seat across from you.

“sorry, i’m late,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “got caught up with the project i told you about a few days ago.”

he doesn’t say much else. it’s such a small thing, but it stings in a way you don’t fully understand.

you swallow down the discomfort and force a light tone. “you’ve been really busy lately,” you say, trying to tease, trying to bridge whatever this gap is. “what’s so important that you can’t even keep our plans?”

jaemin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s just… a lot, you know? school, deadlines, all of it. i didn’t mean to—” he stops, shaking his head slightly. “i’m just trying to keep up.”

the words settle between you, leaving a space that neither of you knows how to fill.

there was a time when jaemin always had time for you, when he would’ve made jokes that’d counter yours, nudge you playfully with that bright smile of his, and reassure you without even trying.

now, the only thing written on his face is fatigue.

and maybe that’s the part that’s hardest to admit—that you can’t even be mad at him for this. that you know him well enough to understand that whatever is pulling him away isn’t intentional, but knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less.

you nod, forcing a small smile. “yeah, i get it. we’ve all got a lot going on.” and maybe that’s where you leave it and start accepting that things don’t always hold the way you thought they would.

the boy glances at his phone again before looking back up. “anyway, i should go. got a meeting in a bit.”

you subconsciously nod once more, knowing it was the only thing you could do—pushing back your chair with slight force. “right.”

neither of you linger.

once, he would’ve waited. once, you would’ve stalled, finding excuses to stretch the moment just a little longer, but tonight, you walk in separate directions and for the first time, you don’t turn back.

ʚɞ

the last time you saw him, it was the winter of your last year of college. the sky hangs low, a dull gray that presses against the horizon, as if the world itself is holding its breath. the weight of unspoken things fills the space between you, making everything feel heavier than it should. you stand at the old playground, the one that once belonged to the two of you. snow falls in delicate flurries, each flake catching in his hair, softening the sharpness of his silhouette. he looks like the jaemin you once knew—his eyes still holding that spark, his posture still easy—but there’s something about him now, something subtle but undeniable, that tells you everything has indeed shifted.

his smile is still there, but it’s not the one you’re used to seeing anymore. it’s stretched thin, distant, pulled tight in a way that feels more like a memory than the real thing.

and it’s him who speaks first. his voice cuts through the silence, sharper than it should be. “i’m moving soon,” he says, and there’s a finality to his words that makes everything around you stop.

your heart drops into your stomach. the cold air feels like it’s suffocating you. “oh,” you manage to say, the word tasting like something you’ve swallowed too many times before.

he shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets, his stance rigid. his voice doesn’t soften. “the company’s expanding. i need to move closer to the headquarters.”

the words hang in the air, cold and empty, and you feel them sink between you like a stone dropped into still water. the weight of them cuts deeper than anything you’ve experienced in all the years leading up to this moment. it’s as if the ground beneath your feet is starting to crack, a fracture you didn’t even realize was there until now.

you want to be happy for him. you are happy for him, somewhere deep inside. this is the life he’s worked for, the he promised all those years ago, but there's a selfishness in the ache that rises in your chest, something broken and raw that you can’t quite name. it’s not just the news—it’s the quiet realization that, somehow, everything you once held close was slipping away.

“right,” you murmur, the word too small, too soft to bridge the gap inbetween. you hum, as if the soothing sound of it could convince both of you that this is okay. “that’s great.”

jaemin exhales, his breath a cloud in the sharp air. it lingers for a moment before dissipating into the gray sky. “what about you? still planning that residency in paris?”

you glance down at your hands, fingers trembling, cold from the winter chill. “yeah. got accepted,” you answer him, the words barely rising above a whisper.

his gaze flickers, something unreadable flashing in his eyes for the briefest of moments. “that’s amazing,” he says, but the tone is off, as though the words don’t quite reach you. “you’re really doing it.”

“yeah,” you reply softly, your voice small and quiet in the vast emptiness between you. “we both are, aren’t we?”

another silence stretches between you, thicker now, heavier than the snow that continues to fall. and in that silence, you both know. you know that whatever had been left of the promises made in the warmth of summer, whatever bond you once shared, was gone and that there’s nothing left to hold on to.

“we’ll still keep in touch,” he says, but even to his ears, the words sound like an afterthought, a feeble attempt at something neither of you believes anymore.

“i’ll still miss you,” you murmur, letting your guard slip—just a little. if this really was the last time you’d see him, then maybe it was worth the risk, even if you knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

jaemin glances at you one last time, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t name. maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe it’s regret, or maybe it’s just the weight of something unfinished, something left unsaid. “i’ll miss you too,” he whispers, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the boy who once promised you forever.

you let the silence settle around you both, its weight pressing down like the cold that’s beginning to creep into your bones. even though he’s stood in place, you feel the distance between you both widen tenfold, or perhaps it's always been that way and you simply refused to acknowledge it.

ʚɞ

the months pass in a blur, one indistinguishable from the other. time moves on, relentless, indifferent to the weight it leaves behind. in the world outside, jaemin’s success blooms like a flower in full bloom—his name now a staple in every conversation, his face brightening billboards, magazines, and interviews. every time you open social media, there he is, living the life you both once envisioned together. 

and you? 

you paint. you finish exhibitions, your name is recognized, but the colors you use now feel muted, the canvases emptier than they used to be. the passion you once felt when you picked up your brush has faded, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

you remember the feeling—the exhilaration of creating, the joy of shaping something out of nothing. the way you used to stand in your workshop for hours, completely immersed in your work, with jaemin's words echoing in your head: "you’re going to make something amazing, i just know it." his belief in you, his unwavering confidence, was a light that made everything feel possible.

but now? the spark is gone. the excitement of making art has dimmed. it’s hard to even pinpoint when it started slipping away. maybe it was when he left—when he moved forward with his life, with his dreams, and you stayed behind, unable to catch up. maybe it was the quiet realization that you could never catch up, no matter how hard you tried.

and then, one day, as you scroll absentmindedly through your phone, a notification flashes on the screen. it’s a new interview with jaemin. his name, his face, as familiar as the air you breathe, yet foreign in a way you can’t explain. you pause, your finger hovering over the screen, an ache spreading through your chest before you even hear his voice.

you tap the notification.

the video begins, his voice smooth and controlled, but there’s something about it that strikes you—a coldness to his words, a calculated quality, as though every syllable is measured, rehearsed. as if he’s become someone else entirely.

“there was someone—someone who was my strength when everything was falling apart…” his words hang in the air like a ghost, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. it’s like hearing him speak from a distance, as if his voice no longer belongs to you, but to someone else, to the man he’s become.

you stop breathing. your hand hovers over the screen, your fingers trembling as you listen, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to hear more. his voice continues, talking about his company, his rise, his accomplishments—the things he promised, the things he’s achieved, the things you should be proud of him for.

but instead, all you feel is the sharp sting of distance. the space between you both has only grown, so vast that it feels like an ocean you could never cross. and then you remember—this is the man he’s become now. the man who’s built a life without you, whose name is no longer connected to yours. you should be happy for him. you should be thrilled to see him achieve his dreams.

but all you feel is this deep, aching void. the weight of all the things that never got said, all the things you once thought were promised between the two of you, now lost to time. you can almost hear the echoes of his laughter, see the way his eyes used to brighten when he talked about the future. that future, the one where you and jaemin would take on the world together, is gone.

you shouldn’t still be holding onto it, but you are. you can’t help it.

when the interview ends, the screen fades to black, leaving you in the silence of your own thoughts. you remain motionless, your phone still in your hand, but it feels like it weighs a ton. the words he spoke, the things he said about strength, about someone who was there for him when everything fell apart—it all cuts through you like glass. you realize then, in the quiet aftermath, that you never got to be the one who helped him pick up the pieces. you were never the one he turned to when the world got too heavy.

and the worst part? you knew. you knew that somewhere along the way, he had started moving without you.

the promise you made to him comes rushing back, unbidden—the painting. the one you swore you’d finish, the one you said would be the gift that captured all the things you couldn’t put into words. the one you started in a burst of inspiration, with the idea that it would be a way of showing him just how much he meant to you, how much you believed in him.

but now? that painting sits unfinished, collecting dust in the corner of your workshop. it’s become a relic of another time, a broken promise that you don’t know how to keep. and you realize, with a quiet ache in your chest, that you haven’t picked up that brush in months—not for him, not for anyone.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and with it comes the crushing weight of everything that’s changed. time has moved on, and so has jaemin. he’s not the person you once knew, and maybe you’re not either. you’re both successful now, but success has a way of making you feel smaller than you ever expected. it fills the spaces where dreams once lived, and it pushes you further apart.

you look at the unfinished painting again, then turn away, leaving it there—just like everything else. there are other things to chase, other goals to reach. but none of them will ever feel like what you once dreamed with him.

and that’s the hardest part, isn’t it? that no matter how far you’ve come, some things—some people—were just never meant to be part of the journey anymore.

ʚɞ

years later, you find yourself walking through the streets of your hometown, your footsteps tracing familiar paths, the cracks in the pavement as unchanged as the memories that flood your mind. you hadn't planned to come back, but here you are. the air is colder than you remembered, but the sharpness of it doesn’t seem to matter. you pass by the old playground, its rusted swings creaking in the breeze, the slides faded and worn. it looks smaller now, as if the world around it has grown while the playground itself has been stuck in time. it’s a place you thought you would leave behind, but it’s here, pulling you in, drawing you back to moments that felt like they happened in another lifetime.

you stop in front of the old oak tree where you and jaemin once carved your initials. the bark has thickened, the edges of your names smoothed over by time. you touch it softly, your fingers brushing the faded markings, and for a split second, it reminds you of the memories that you once cherished.

and then, you see him.

jaemin stands at the far end of the playground, leaning against the fence with the same casual ease that used to make your heart flutter. it’s like he’s always been here, like he never left. his hair is longer now, tousled in a way that makes him look even more like the boy you used to know. and then, when he sees you, his face softens, and that familiar warmth washes over him—his smile, the one that used to make everything feel right in the world, is there again, lighting up his features.

for a brief, fleeting moment, it’s as if time has folded back on itself, and the years that separated you two dissolve into nothing.

“hey,” jaemin says, his voice tentative, the uncertainty hanging in the air like a fragile thread between you both. it’s the first time you’ve seen him in what feels like forever, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest tighten—a mix of longing and regret, as though he’s unsure whether to close the distance between you or leave it untouched.

“hey,” you reply, mimicking his words, but your voice catches somewhere in the space between the past and the present. it’s hard to place exactly what has changed, but the distance between you feels palpable now, like something invisible has grown taller and thicker between you two, despite how much you wish it hadn’t.

you stand there, side by side, the silence settling in like an old, familiar weight. neither of you knows what to say. there are so many things you both left unsaid, words that were swallowed in the years that passed, left to wither in the spaces between your conversations. but now, in this quiet moment, it all feels too big to address—too overwhelming to pull to the surface.

“i—uh, you look good,” jaemin says after a long pause, his voice still unsure, but there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks. it’s like he’s searching for something—validation, perhaps, or maybe just a sign that you’re still the person he remembers.

you look at him for a moment, taking in the boy who used to be everything to you. he’s still beautiful in a way that pulls at your heartstrings, but everything has changed, and you know it. you feel it in the way your gaze lingers on him a little longer than it should, as if your mind is still trying to piece together who he is now, who you both have become.

“so do you,” you finally reply, but your words feel hollow, even though you mean them. you know he looks good. you know he’s still jaemin, still the boy you used to hold so close. but the things that used to make you feel like you belonged together, the unspoken bond you shared, they’re gone. you feel it in the pit of your stomach—the ache of time pulling you both in opposite directions, the weight of what once was slipping through your fingers.

the quiet stretches again, thick and heavy, and you both seem to be standing on the edge of something too fragile to touch. there’s so much you want to say, so many things left unresolved. but you realize, in that moment, that there’s no going back.

no amount of time, no amount of silence, will ever give you the answers you’re looking for. the past—your shared moments, your dreams, the friendship that once felt like home—is something that has already faded, even if it still lingers in the corners of your heart.

the chill in the air grows sharper, but it doesn’t matter. you want to step forward, to bridge the gap between you both, but you know better than to reopen a wound that had already been stitched up.

jaemin shifts slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes flickering toward the ground as if he’s lost in his own thoughts. you watch him for a moment, wondering if he feels the same ache in his chest, the same pull between wanting to move forward and holding on to what was.

“i should go,” you say finally, breaking the silence. the words are out before you even realize you’ve said them, but they feel necessary, like the only way to close this chapter.

jaemin nods, his smile faltering for just a second. “yeah, me too.”

and just like that, you turn away, the ache in your chest a quiet reminder that no matter how much you want to hold on to what was, some things are meant to fade, even if it hurts to let them go.

you walk away, and the footsteps behind you feel like the final acknowledgment of the future you both said goodbye to.

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

[shefollowedthestars]

emma frost x fem!reader [hollywood x-men au] PART TWO.

warnings: language, nothing else i can think of atm

notes: tysm for the love on part one, i wasn't expecting it!! i hope you guys enjoy this one and trust me when i say there is definitely more to come!! ily <33

PART ONE | MY MASTERLIST

"oh come on! it won't be that bad, i promise you."

you glare at your friend charles from across the room. he clearly doesn't understand what you're trying to tell him.

"it's not erik i don't like - i'm saying that i don't want to go if emma frost is going to be there." you repeat for what seems like the thousandth time.

he rolls his eyes and gives you a knowing look. "are you sure you hate her that much?"

you feel defensive immediately, as if you're guilty of something.

"yes! did i not already tell you what happened the other night?" you were referring to the award show three nights ago, where, when you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown, emma approached you in the bathroom and insulted you. she seemed to know exactly what had your mind spinning and her comment hurt. you hadn't stopped thinking about it since.

"yes, i've heard it too many times since then, but i don't understand why it affected you so much, you won the award anyway!" charles yells back at you. you sink in your seat. he got you there. normally if someone decided to make a mean comment towards you and then you won something against them, you wouldn't be too mad anymore. you probably would be able to have a short hour and a half dinner with them and a couple other friends. but not with emma.

because it wasn't just the insult in the bathroom that had you loathing emma. it was the fact that you stared at her tight white dress and silver shimmery lips for just a second too long. and in turn, she made you feel things that were too much for you. and that smirk she gave you as you went to accept the award, with her smudged lipstick - you were afraid that if you saw emma again, you wouldn't be able to look away.

"because - i- i just for some reason can't stand her." you say to charles. it's a weak explanation and from the look in his eyes, you both know it.

he gets up from his chair and heads towards you. "honestly, i've had it with you. erik clearly likes and trusts her enough to befriend her and for her to be his fake girlfriend. what she is to him is what you are to me. so, you're coming to this dinner. please."

he gives you a pleading look. oh god, you can't say no to that.

---

you and charles are early to the dinner and sit down in your respective seats while waiting. you're wearing a more casual dress that you spent more time than usual picking out. charles is dressed in his normal attire, but with an added tie and a very happy smile.

you sift through the menu when you hear the click of heels against tile from behind you. the sound is accompanied by two voices, one lower and warm and the other sweet and frosty. erik and emma.

you continue staring at your menu when the two voices come closer and sit down in front of you.

you only look up when erik mutters your name, asking how you're doing. "oh, i'm good, thanks for asking! how about you?"

"good! congratulations on the award by the way." he replies. you smirk at his words, your eyes moving to emma for the first time this evening. she looks back at you with a matching smirk and that's when you realize she's wearing the same exact lipgloss from the other night.

the stupid sparkly, glittery, silver one. and now your smirk slowly fades, but your eyes soften and you can't seem to take them off emma and her lips that stay in a growing smirk.

"ahem." charles coughs, directing your gaze back to him. he looks at you and he opens his mouth to say something, but then your waiter appears.

"you guys ready to order drinks?" he asks the group.

erik nods and orders, charles following shortly after. then, the waiter's eyes land on emma, asking her the same question he asked the two men, but he has a different glint in his eye this time. you don't like it.

but emma seems to. she gives him a similar smirk she's given you before and your muscles tighten.

you choose not to order a drink and you relax slightly when the waiter leaves.

"well," erik starts, putting his arm around emma's chair, "me and charles have something to tell you two girls."

you look at charles next to you. you immediately assume it's bad news, but charles is smiling at you. his arm mirrors erik's as he puts it around your chair.

"me and charles," he lets out a breath, smiling at his boyfriend, "have decided to not hide our relationship anymore. we decided we need to be loud and proud about who we are and hiding it doesn't do that."

you practically jump out of your seat to hug charles. "oh my god that's amazing!!" you exclaim, your voice muffled. charles laughs and hugs you back.

when you pull back, you walk around the table to give erik a hug as emma does the same with charles.

"thank you, y/n." he tells you. the room feels so comfortable and warm now - everyone knows it.

you settle back into your seat and grin. "so, when are you going to officially announce it?" you ask them.

"we weren't thinking of an official statement, we were just planning to go to the next awards show together." charles says, shrugging his shoulders. you and emma hum, agreeing at the decision.

shortly after, the waiter arrives with your drinks and asks what you guys would like to eat. he eyes emma improperly again, but you send a glare his way and he stops.

the whole dinner is full of smiles and genuine happiness for erik and charles. your heart feels full knowing that your two friends are willing to embraces themselves and share their love with the world. it definitely has your mind wandering to your own image, though. to be honest, you've always known you liked girls since you were young, but you'd never officially told anyone. you're sure charles knows at this point, but is it important to you for everybody, including the fans and public to know? you think not, at least not until you actually get into a relationship.

you ponder on this more as charles and erik talk enthusiastically with one another and when you think about relationships, your gaze automatically shifts to emma. she's smiling and looking between your two friends and you can't help but feel fond of her in the moment.

she goes to take a sip of her drink and her fingers tracing the rim of the glass have you freezing in your chair. it feels wrong to continue staring, but you do nonetheless, feeling a familiar warmth return in your body.

and when she finally takes a sip of her drink, your eyes find her lips and that silver sparkle on them again. you were right earlier, you think, you're not going to be able to take your eyes off of her.

"y/n!" charles says, tapping your shoulder. you jolt in your chair and fix your posture.

"yeah?"

"me and erik are going to walk to his place together, if you can manage getting home okay?" he asks you. you smile at him and nod to say yes.

"thanks." he says, and you can tell the idea of him and erik being together unapologetically has made him the happiest he's been in a while.

---

after waving goodbye to the boys, you and emma realize you're heading in the same direction, so you decide to walk together.

she's slightly drunk and you are too, not in the traditional sense, but you feel slightly euphoric due to the amazing dinner and conversation.

you look down to the ground as you're walking, scared to look emma in the face. you can't see anything of her when you do, so the only proof of her presence is the constant click of her white heeled boots and the warmth her body exhibits from being next to you. after what seems like millions of minutes one of you starts to talk, and it's her.

"hey, look-"

you take a sharp breath in and look up at emma. you don't know what to do with your hands, or your whole body for that matter, and you resort to awkwardly toying with your fingers, to calm yourself a bit.

emma stumbles slightly, but catches herself before you can do it for her. "look-i saw you staring at me the entire night and i want to say that i'm-" she waves her hand in the air, and blinks hardly to keep her eyes properly open. "i'm sorry for that other night in the bathroom. i didn't mean to come off that rude, i just, i need to work on it. i just don't realy know how to talk to people who intimidate me." she admits.

i just don't realy know how to talk to people who intimidate me.

you feel your heart stop and your mind whir. you intimidate her? what is happening right now? you can't believe one, that emma frost is apologizing to you and two that you intimidate her? you managed to intimidate the 'queen and sweetheart of hollywood' emma frost?

she looks up at you with big eyes, struggling to keep them looking in one specific spot. because she's drunk, you think to yourself.

"uhm-" you start, rubbing the back of your neck. "thanks em and it's okay." the nickname em? god, you need to get a hold of yourself.

her eyes soften at you and you practically melt on the spot under her gaze. you look down at her lips and then she suddenly jolts up, straightening herself. she blinks rapidly, rubbing her eyes. "yeah, yeah."

emma takes her hands away from her face and sighs. "but, uhm- could you not tell anyone that i apologized? not even your charles, please?"

she has a pleading look and how the fuck could you say no to that, you think. but instead of speaking that thought out loud, you simply nod at her.

her lips turn upward and she smiles. "thanks, this is where i'm staying, so.." she points to the building behind her and slowly walks backwards to head inside.

you wave bye, she does the same and then eventually turns her back to you. when she's out of your view, you let out a deep breath you didn't realize you were holding. this whole walk has felt fake, like you can't possibly believe it happened.

you shake your body, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat when you hear a ding! from your phone. it's a text from charles.

you didn't seem to hate emma as much as you were trying to convince me you did earlier ;)

you roll your eyes. charles always tends to tease you like this, but it does gets you wondering if he noticed it too. does he notice the way emma draws you in like no one else? can he see the magnetic force you feel between the two of you? are you not crazy and is the possibility of something, anything between you and emma real?

you put your phone in your back pocket and think more while you walk to your house. it's award season, and you still have a couple of shows to go to. and now that erik and charles will be going to them together, you have no date. and that's fine! you know you won't mind it, but your brain is imaginative tonight and thinks about inviting emma.

you sigh, putting your head in your hands. your dreams are going to be crazy tonight.

[hummingbird24220]

May I please request swordsman! Reader who can understand swords?

I've seen in a couple fics where swordsmen are able to talk to their swords after bonding with them but the idea of reader being able to with out a bond present would be so funny! Idk if it's a skill reader learned (like a special technique) or a devil fruit power but reader just absolutely clowning on the swordsmen in one piece as a whole. Idk if the swordsman themselves can talk to their swords but I feel like it's funnier if they can't. Reader learning all about Zoro as a kid from Wado and all the embarrassing things it's seen (its been with him so long)

The only other swordsmen I can think of are Law and Mihawk. Readers experience with their swords are a little different

I feel like Yoru(I think is the name) has to much respect for Mihawk to tell any embarrassing stories like Wado but would still be embarrassing with how much bragging it does. It's very proud to have Mihawk as it's owner (he's the best swordsmen afterall)

Law's sword, Kikoku is just as cautious as it's owner but can't help but to take this opportunity to tell reader to tell law to take better care of himself

(You don't have to write for law or Mihawk if you don't want to! I just wanted to add my thoughts on them! You could just do Zoro with his three swords or any other swordsmen- honestly I have lots of thoughts about this 'prompt' so sorry for rambling <3)

(I have more thoughts if you like this request enough if not no worries!)

This is a cool idea! Thank you for requesting <3 I havent met Law in the anime yet (still on baby episodes) but i did a smol google and stalk. Sorry if hes OOC! Kinda went into it with the mindset of 'if the sword vibes with the wielder, then the wielder can kinda understand the sword' - but thee reader is fluent in swordeneese ;)

I saw your other message about you wanting a Swordsmith reader - i wasn't too sure how to incorporate it to the story so its a bit of a doozy. I could do a part 2 - focusing more on the swords being cared/repaired if you like, maybe with some scenes with shanks and his sword (reader tries not to acknowledge his sword so he doesn't think shes nosy or something? big bad shank emperor vibes ((when really hes a softie)))

Let me know if you want part 2 ^^

Enjoy <3

Sharp Tongues, Sharper Blades (Part 1)

One piece x Swordsmith!Reader

You didn’t set out to be a menace. That just sort of... happened.

Your Devil Fruit—unofficially dubbed the Blade-Whisper Whisper Fruit by a very drunk shipwright—granted you the ability to hear and speak to swords. Not just your own. Not just special, bonded blades. All swords. All the time.

It was less of a superpower and more of a constantly running group chat in your head, filled with temperamental steel with centuries of backstories and too many opinions.

Zoro’s swords were loudest of all.

You had snuck into the Sunny’s training room while the crew was off eating. You were supposed to be sharpening some of the crew’s utility knives. Instead, you were crouched beside Zoro’s swords, whispering like you were conspiring with old friends.

"Alright, alright—Wado first," you muttered, eyeing the pristine katana resting in its scabbard.

Wado Ichimonji’s “voice” came through calm and noble, but with the weary sass of someone who’s seen too much.

“It’s about time you listened. Do you know how hard it is being the only reasonable one among these idiots?”

You snorted. "You're literally a sword."

“And yet more emotionally mature than your average swordsman.”

"Tell me something embarrassing."

There was a pause.

“…When he was ten, he practiced shirtless in front of a mirror because he thought he’d grow muscles faster that way.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep the laugh in.

Sandai Kitetsu gave off an unhinged energy, like a cursed blade that listened to heavy metal and screamed into the void for fun.

“I told him to stop juggling me. That was not a test of fate. That was plain stupidity.”

"How many times has he tried to use you while drunk?"

“Seven. Eight if you count the time he mistook a mop for me.”

Shusui (grumpy, old, and dramatic) immediately interjected.

“Hmph. That mop had better stance.”

You pressed your forehead to the wooden floor, wheezing with laughter.

"Wado, how do you deal with him?"

“Love, patience, and the ability to ignore shirtless mirror flexing.”

You wiped your eyes. "You're killing me."

A familiar voice suddenly barked from behind you.

“What the hell are you doing with my swords?”

You turned slowly to find Zoro in the doorway, brow furrowed, arms crossed.

Think fast. “...uh, bonding?”

He looked skeptical. You grinned.

“Wado says you used to practice shirtless for gains.”

Zoro’s face turned ten shades of red.

“WHAT?!”

From the sword rack, Wado Ichimonji whispered smugly: “He also cried after losing to a squirrel once.”

-

Dinner on the Sunny was loud, chaotic, and usually filled with the sounds of Luffy trying to steal food off every plate within reach.

Tonight, it was also filled with the sounds of you barely containing your laughter as you side-eyed Zoro across the table.

He was trying to act normal, gruffly chewing through his rice like it hadn’t been hours since you’d had a little... chat with his swords. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eye kept twitching every time you looked at him and smirked.

You were so going to milk this.

“So, Zoro…” you said casually, poking at your food. “Ever get into any fights with… squirrels?”

He froze mid-bite.

Luffy blinked. “Wait, what kind of squirrel? Like a big one?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes at you. “You said you weren’t gonna say anything!”

“I said nothing about dinner,” you replied, grinning. “Besides, Wado told me. I’m just the humble messenger.”

Sanji leaned over from across the table, intrigued. “Oi, moss-head, did you really lose to a squirrel?”

“It was strategic retreat,” Zoro grumbled.

Robin was sipping wine, completely unbothered. “How charming. Perhaps we can find you a rematch.”

“I’LL KILL THAT SWORD,” Zoro snapped.

You snorted into your drink. “I don’t think that’s how swords work, sweetie.”

Wado Ichimonji—propped up nearby in its sheath—was practically vibrating with smug energy in your head.

“Tell him I still have the scar. Right on the saya. From when he tripped into a tree trying to dodge it.”

You bit your tongue. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Okay, laugh later.

“Anyway,” you said, taking a bite, “the real scandal was the mirror thing.”

Zoro dropped his chopsticks.

Usopp looked between you and Zoro. “Wait—what mirror thing?”

Nami raised a brow. “Oh no.”

Brook’s skull tilted curiously. “Was it about his form?”

“Or lack of muscles?” Sanji added with a smirk.

“HE WAS TEN,” Zoro barked, face red. “DROP IT.”

You smiled sweetly. “But you believed it would work. That’s the cute part.”

Zoro shot to his feet. “I will personally throw all your tools into the sea.”

You shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll just ask Wado what your favorite shampoo is and swap it with mayonnaise.”

Wado, gleeful: “It’s lavender. He says it’s for 'clarity.'”

Zoro screamed into his hands.

Across the table, Luffy was just staring in awe. “Your swords talk back?! That’s so cool!”

Zoro glared at you. “They don’t talk.”

You leaned back in your chair, arms behind your head, grin wide as the ocean.

“No, Zoro. They don’t talk to you.”

-

The galley was quieter after dinner, lit only by warm lanterns and the soft clatter of dishes. Sanji was elbow-deep in soap suds, humming a soft tune as he washed. You were drying plates beside him, content for once to enjoy the stillness after a meal full of teasing and near sword-based homicide.

“You know,” Sanji said, glancing over, “for someone who spent dinner instigating Zoro into an aneurysm, you’re surprisingly helpful in the kitchen.”

“Gotta stay useful somehow,” you replied with a shrug. “Besides, I only poke the moss bear out of love.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

As he turned to scrub a pot, a glint from the knife rack caught your eye. A particular chef’s knife—slender, perfectly weighted, lovingly honed. It practically vibrated with attention as you passed.

“Hey,” it whispered, voice soft and precise, like a blade gliding through ripe tomato skin. “That man. The one with the cigarette and perfect fingers. He’s a good one.”

You blinked, surprised. Most blades didn’t care for conversation unless they had drama to spill or blood to remember. This one was… almost reverent.

“You want me to tell him something?” you murmured under your breath, pretending to clean the counter.

“Tell him I appreciate the oil he uses. The cloth. The sharpening stone. And the way he holds me—steady, confident. It’s rare to be treated with such respect.” A pause. “…His julienne game? Immaculate.”

You stifled a chuckle. “Right, I’ll let him know.”

“What was that?” Sanji asked, glancing over.

You hesitated. Normally, you’d play this kind of thing for laughs. But this blade wasn’t mocking. It was genuine. So you dried your hands, turned to him, and leaned against the counter.

“Your favorite knife just wanted to say you’ve got great technique,” you said casually. “Like, really appreciates how well you take care of it. The oiling, the sharpening, the… julienne game. All of it.”

Sanji paused mid-scrub, frowning. “You serious?”

You nodded. “Dead serious. It’s almost poetic about it. Kinda adorable, honestly.”

For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the Sunny.

Then Sanji—cool, composed Sanji—turned pink at the ears.

“…Tch. Stupid knife,” he muttered, looking away. “Gonna make me emotional over a hunk of steel.”

You smiled. “Steel’s got feelings too, apparently.”

He shook his head, but there was a softness in his eyes as he went back to scrubbing.

“I always knew that one was special,” he murmured. “But... thanks for telling me.”

You gave the knife a quiet pat. It practically purred in your mind.

“Tell him he makes me feel like art.”

You looked over at Sanji, this man who danced around a kitchen like it was a ballroom, who wielded his tools with precision and pride.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “He really does.”

-

You hadn’t meant to end up at Mihawk’s castle. That’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

A pitstop, a storm, a bit of misdirection from a smug talking dagger who told you “he’s got the best view in the East Blue,” and here you were—on Kuraigana Island, standing in front of the most intimidating sword you’d ever laid eyes on.

Yoru. Black blade. Supreme Grade. Taller than you. Probably older than everyone you’d ever met combined. It radiated authority.

You hadn’t even tried to speak to it yet.

It waited, mounted in quiet glory behind Mihawk, who was calmly sipping wine like you weren’t internally panicking about what this sword was going to say to you.

“I hear you speak to blades,” Mihawk said, not looking at you.

“I do.”

“I presume you’d like to speak to mine.”

“…A little.”

He finally glanced at you, gold eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t speak to just anyone.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “It doesn’t need to. I don’t ask to hear them. I just do.”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “Then proceed.”

You turned to Yoru, stepping close.

The second you entered its aura—because yes, this sword had aura—you heard it.

Rich. Deep. Regal. Like a baritone dipped in ink and forged in centuries of ego.

“Finally. Someone with the taste to recognize me.”

“Oh boy,” you muttered under your breath.

“You may tell the boy—sorry, Dracule Mihawk, Wielder of the Blade Supreme, Greatest Swordsman of the Era—that he is… doing a satisfactory job.”

You blinked. “That’s it? You just want me to tell him he’s adequate?”

A pause. Then—

“…And that I am still undefeated. Still untouched. Still flawless. Unlike that moss-haired one. Wado said he once slipped in mud. Disgraceful.”

You held back a laugh. “You brag more than a sword with arms.”

“My existence is a brag.”

You turned back toward Mihawk, who was watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Well?” he asked.

You cleared your throat.

“Yoru says… you’re doing a satisfactory job.”

He blinked.

You smirked.

“And that it is still undefeated, untouched, and flawless.”

A long pause.

“…Of course it did,” Mihawk muttered.

You hesitated, then added, “Also it wanted me to let you know that Wado thinks Zoro once slipped in mud. So. Clearly, your sword is keeping up with the gossip.”

Mihawk took a very long sip of wine.

“I expect you to never repeat this,” he said flatly.

You gave Yoru a wink. “No promises.”

As you turned to leave, Yoru called out—low and proud:

“Tell me—did the chef’s knife like his compliment?”

You blinked.

“…How do you know about that?”

“We all talk, child. You think I don’t keep tabs on the competition?”

Oh. Oh no.

Even ancient blades were messy little gossip gremlins.

-

You weren’t supposed to be here overnight.

And yet, here you were: Mihawk’s castle guest for the evening, curled up in a surprisingly cozy chair by the fireplace with a cup of hot tea, while the man himself read quietly across from you.

You hadn’t spoken much. Mihawk wasn’t the chatty type. But the sword? Oh, Yoru had no such issue.

“You’re slouching.”

You frowned. “I’m not slouching.”

“Your spine is curved like an inferior blade.”

You glanced at Mihawk, whispering from behind your mug, “Yoru says I’m slouching.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “Yoru says that to everyone.”

You leaned closer to the sword, which rested behind Mihawk’s chair like a smug throne.

“You ever say anything nice?”

“I allowed you to address me directly. That’s the highest honor I offer.”

You stared. “That’s… genuinely the most pompous sentence I’ve heard from an inanimate object.”

“I’m not inanimate. I’m revered.”

Mihawk finally sighed, turning a page. “Yoru, must you?”

“He needs the practice. You’ve been brooding at the fireplace like an oil painting all day. I’m carrying this conversation.”

You snorted into your tea.

“Also, remind him,” Yoru added, voice dropping dramatically, “that it is time to oil my hilt. I detected dryness. This is unacceptable.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. “You have dryness detection?”

“Superior craftsmanship has superior needs.”

Mihawk glanced up at you, then at the sword.

“…Did it say something ridiculous again?”

“Yes,” you said, barely holding it together. “It wants you to moisturize it.”

“I do oil it,” he muttered, clearly offended.

“Not last Tuesday. You skipped.”

You fell off the chair laughing.

Yoru, ever composed: “She is unworthy of my presence.”

You wiped your eyes. “Then why do you keep talking to me?”

“Because someone must appreciate my glory. And I’ve exhausted Mihawk’s capacity for flattery.”

“I never flattered you,” Mihawk said without looking up.

“You held me up to the moon once.”

“That was a duel. You were reflecting light.”

“It was symbolic.”

You choked.

Later, after Mihawk retreated to his room (muttering something about “blades with superiority complexes”), you sat beside Yoru again in the quiet dark.

“…You really love him, huh?” you asked softly.

There was a pause.

“He is a warrior worthy of me. A craftsman of battle. A bearer of precision, discipline, and solitude.”

You nodded.

“…Also, have you seen how well he grooms his beard? That is commitment.”

You grinned, whispering, “You’re kind of obsessed with him.”

“As he should be with me.”

You leaned back against the stone wall, letting the warmth of the fire and the low hum of Yoru’s self-importance lull you into calm.

Maybe you didn’t mean to stay here. But honestly? You could get used to this.

-

The first thing you noticed when you stepped onto the Polar Tang wasn’t the crew. Or the high-tech submarine layout. Or even Law himself, who was exactly as grumpy and sharp-featured as you expected.

It was the sword.

Kikoku.

You didn’t even have to look directly at it to feel it watching you. Not menacing. Not hostile.

Just… wary.

You’d felt cursed swords. Wild ones. Vengeful ones. But Kikoku wasn’t like them. It wasn’t cursed. It was careful.

You didn’t speak to it right away.

Law met you in the upper hall with a raised brow and crossed arms. “You’re the one who talks to swords?”

You nodded. “They talk to me, mostly.”

“Tch. Great,” he muttered. “Just don’t touch anything.”

“Don’t plan to,” you said, and then, softer, to Kikoku: “May I?”

There was a long pause. Then, softly—softer than any blade you'd ever heard—

“…You’re not with the Marines?”

Your breath caught. “No. Definitely not.”

“You're not with the World Government? Cipher Pol?”

“No.”

“You don't plan to experiment on anyone while you're here?”

“…Also no.”

Kikoku exhaled—if a sword could do that.

“Alright.” A pause. “You can talk to me. But keep your voice down. He's always listening.”

You glanced at Law, who was standing just far enough away to look disinterested.

Yeah, that tracks.

You stepped a little closer to Kikoku, careful not to make sudden moves. “You okay?”

“I am functional. I would be better if he got more than four hours of sleep a night and remembered to eat food that wasn’t coffee and spite.”

You smiled. “Should I tell him that?”

“…Yes. But phrase it gently. He pretends not to care, but he does.”

You turned to Law, who looked extremely done with your presence already.

“Kikoku says you should sleep more.”

Law blinked. “You asked it that?”

“Nope. It told me on its own.”

You paused, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Also said you live on coffee and spite.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“…Tch. It talks too much,” he muttered, brushing past you toward the bridge.

Kikoku, smug now: “He heard me. That’s what matters.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning. “You’re a softie.”

“He won’t listen to anyone else. If I have to nag him myself, so be it.”

You liked this sword. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t gloat. It didn’t care about power or titles.

It cared. About its wielder. About his health. About keeping him safe.

It whispered like a quiet protector in the middle of a warzone.

You looked after Law as he stomped down the hall, coat flaring like always.

“Hey, Kikoku?”

“Yes?”

“…If he ever needs help, I’ll be around. Just whisper.”

“…Thank you.”

-

You weren’t technically snooping.

You just happened to be in the Polar Tang’s small medbay, tidying up after helping Bepo rewrap a sprained paw, when Kikoku—leaning quietly in the corner, within arm’s reach of Law’s desk—whispered to you again.

“He had another nightmare last night.”

You froze, hand still on the edge of the cabinet. “…About Flevance?”

“No. Corazon.”

That made your chest squeeze a little.

Kikoku wasn’t like the other swords. It didn’t speak unless it had to. And it never gossiped.

So if it brought something up… it mattered.

“Does he talk about him?” you asked quietly.

“Never. But sometimes he mutters his name in his sleep. Apologizes to him. Tells him it wasn’t supposed to go that way.”

You turned to the blade, frowning. “Why tell me this?”

“Because you’re the only one who listens. And he won’t say it himself.”

“…You want me to say something to him?”

“I want him to stop carrying everything alone. If that means you talk to him, fine. But don’t push.”

Just then, the door opened behind you.

“Talking to my sword again?” Law said flatly, stepping in with a clipboard.

You didn’t jump—barely.

“I was just…” You paused. “Yeah. I was.”

Law raised a brow. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I realize how ridiculous you sound, constantly pretending you don’t want people to care.”

His eyes narrowed.

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Kikoku just… it worries about you. That’s all.”

Law scoffed, moving past you toward the desk. “Swords don’t worry.”

“Kikoku does.”

He set the clipboard down harder than necessary.

“…And what did it say this time?”

You hesitated. “That you had a nightmare.”

That stopped him cold.

You added, gently, “That you talked to Corazon.”

Silence. Heavy and tense.

You didn’t fill it. Not this time.

Law slowly turned, shoulders stiff. “I don’t talk about that.”

“I know. And you don’t have to. But you don’t have to carry it by yourself either.”

His jaw clenched.

“Look,” you said, stepping closer, “Kikoku isn’t trying to betray you. It’s worried. I’m not here to drag your past out of you. I’m just… here. If you want someone to talk to.”

Law looked at you for a long moment. Eyes searching. Calculating. Vulnerable, maybe—just a crack behind the walls.

Then he looked away.

“…Tch. Tell Kikoku to mind its own business.”

You smiled faintly. “It did. That’s why it told me.”

You turned to go, pausing at the door.

“Kikoku’s a good sword,” you said over your shoulder. “And you’re not alone, even if you keep pretending you are.”

You left the room in silence.

Behind you, Kikoku whispered, ever so softly: “…Thank you.”

-

It started out simple.

You were at a neutral dockside tavern with the Straw Hats and Law’s crew, sharing a temporary alliance and, supposedly, a peaceful meal.

You had barely touched your drink before Kikoku whispered in your head:

“They’re here.”

You looked up to see Zoro walking in, swords strapped across his hip, expression set to ‘grumpy and ready to duel.’

“Oh boy,” you muttered.

Then Wado Ichimonji chimed in—loud, dramatic, already fired up.

“I smell that blade. The smug one. The one with the silence complex.”

“Wado, please don’t start.”

“I never start. I finish. Tell the butter knife to sheath its judgment.”

Kikoku, cool and sharp: “Your wielder can’t even find the front door without walking into a tree.”

“Okay, that’s—”

Wado: “He’s got spirit.”

Kikoku: “He’s got concussions.”

You choked on your drink.

Zoro and Law sat down across from each other like two cats about to hiss. You sat between them like a hostage.

“I know you’re listening to them,” Zoro muttered to you.

“Don’t drag me into this,” you hissed. “They’re being ridiculous.”

Law looked equally annoyed. “Kikoku never talks like this.”

You turned to him. “Maybe because she’s never had to be in the same room as that one,” you said, gesturing to Sandai Kitetsu, who was screaming in the background.

“FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.”

“Not helping,” Kikoku snapped.

Zoro narrowed his eyes at Law. “Your sword thinks I’m stupid, doesn’t it?”

Law sipped his drink. “That’s because you are.”

You groaned and put your head on the table.

Meanwhile, Shusui had entered the chat like a war general summoned from retirement:

“We should settle this with an honorable duel.”

Kikoku: “You’ve been retired for five owners. Sit down.”

Sandai: “I will SETTLE THIS BY BITING THE OTHER SWORD’S HANDLE.”

Wado: “Tell the emo blade to respect its elders.”

Kikoku: “Tell the museum piece to update its technique.”

At that point, you stood up so fast your chair nearly fell backward.

“I am not facilitating a steel-themed group therapy session right now. You four can air your issues without me as the interpreter.”

Law: “You’re the only one who can understand them.”

You: “And I would like to not die of psychic sword-related migraines today, thanks!”

The entire table stared.

Then Brook leaned in, cheerful as ever. “Yohoho! So are the swords dating or fighting?”

“They’re doing both,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Kikoku and Wado: “We are not dating.” “I have standards.”

Sandai: “...I’m open to a polycule.”

Zoro stood. “I’m leaving before someone stabs someone, and it’s me.”

Law nodded. “I second that.”

You sighed, gathering your things. “Next time I’m bringing duct tape. For the scabbards. And my own ears.”

As they left, you heard the swords start back up again—Wado muttering insults, Kikoku returning fire with surgical precision.

And in the background:

“FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.”

-

You were finally back aboard the Sunny, the sun warming your shoulders as the sea stretched endlessly in every direction. Peaceful. Blissful.

Or at least, it was, until Luffy burst onto the deck holding a cutlass, a bread knife, and a rusty kitchen cleaver like a kid who just found treasure.

“DO THESE TALK?!” he shouted, shoving them toward you.

You blinked, gently pushing the bread knife away from your face. “Luffy, where did you get these?”

“Found them in a barrel! They were just sitting there! Like, waiting to be alive!”

You sighed. “Okay, but—wait. That cleaver is literally still covered in jam.”

“SO DOES IT TALK?”

You closed your eyes and concentrated.

The cutlass: “I was once wielded by a man named Jerry who only knew how to scream and swing. It was exhausting.”

The bread knife: “I'm not technically a weapon. I was forged for croissants. Please stop using me for melons.”

The cleaver: “…I yearn for peace. I miss the days of slicing fruit and feeling needed.”

You opened your eyes. “They’re tired.”

Luffy gasped. “THEY HAVE FEELINGS?!”

“Yes. Mostly exhaustion.”

Brook appeared beside you, gentle smile in place, holding his cane sword. “May I?”

You took it with care.

The second your hand touched the hilt, you felt it. Not just voice, but emotion. Waves of grief, laughter, music. The weight of time. Of silence. Of death and persistence.

And then—warmth.

“…He still plays for them. Every night, even if they can’t hear. I remember each note.”

You swallowed hard. “Your sword remembers your crew, Brook.”

Brook tilted his skull. “Oh?”

You nodded. “Every performance. Every time you stood beside them. Every time you wept while you played.”

A soft pause from the blade.

“He’s kind. Gentle. A little forgetful. He sometimes uses me to stir soup.”

Brook laughed. “Yohoho! I did do that once!”

“But… he remembers them. Always. Even when he forgets where he left me.”

You looked at Brook, voice quiet. “It says you’re the reason it never went dull. That your heart, even now, is sharp enough for both of you.”

Brook put a hand over his chest. “That is… deeply moving. Thank you, (Y/N).”

The blade hummed in your hand, full of music.

Later that night, you sat alone at the ship’s railing, feet dangling off the edge, gazing at the stars. You’d talked to so many swords—heard chaos, tragedy, bragging, battle cries, jokes. So many voices.

And for the first time… silence.

But not lonely silence.

Just… peace.

Your own blade rested beside you, quiet and still.

You smiled. “Thanks for sticking with me.”

It didn’t speak.

It didn’t need to.

You already knew.

[pholla-jm]

Where Angels Fear to Tread

IMAGINE: WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD GENRE: HURT/FLUFF cw: this is just a prologue, so more will come. not proof read. ooc luffy ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every sunday without fail, Luffy grabbed a book and went someplace private. It was very out of character for him. 

It was the only time where Luffy was calm and focused on something that wasn’t food or an adventure. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to read…” Nami mutters as she sees Luffy with the same book. Zoro just rolls his eyes in response, not commenting. Sure, he’s seen the book too but he never really cared to actually comprehend what was going on. “Maybe you should see what it is.” He suggests the red head. 

It’s not a different book every week. No, it’s the same book. The same navy blue hardcover book. There were some markings on the cover, probably the title, but no one ever got to see what it said. 

“Yeah, that’s actually a good idea. Good job.” Nami pats the green haired swordsman on the shoulder and walks off towards the captain. 

“Hey Captain.” Nami calls out to him. 

The book laid in his lap, and he was staring intently at the worn out cover. It seemed he was in a deep trance, but the voice of his crew broke him out of it. 

“Oh, hey Nami!” He says, the blank look disappearing from his face and the usual bright smile. 

“What do you got there?” She asks while pointing to the book in his lap. 

His smile falters as he looks down at the book again. “It’s just a book… not my book.” Nami sits next to him, “who’s is it?” “An old friend. It’s… it was their favorite book.” 

Nami didn’t miss the way he said ‘was’. She could feel the tension in the air around them start to feel a bit depressing. Something that was rare and something that Nami didn’t want Luffy to feel. 

“Where Angels Fear to Tread.. By E.M Foster.” Nami reads the book title. 

Luffy nods and nervously chuckles, “I like to read it, because they used to read it to me on this day. But some of the words I don’t understand.” 

Nami softly smiles at Luffy. Hearing a part of his life makes him seem more human. “Do you mind?” She asks while pointing to the book. He nods his head and hands her the book. 

The worn out cover scratches against the palm of her skin. But she didn’t mind- the book was old. How old? She didn't know, but it clearly held great value and meaning. 

Opening the cover, the first thing that she sees is neat cursive writing. 

“To my dear granddaughter (y/n), may this book guide you through troubles… love grandma.”

The writing was shaky and faded. Honestly, it was a bit unreadable but Nami was able to figure it out. 

The pages were a faded beige color- a tell from how old it was. 

“Would you like me to read some of it to you?” Nami asks and Luffy’s bright smile returns on his face. “Yeah!” 

Luffy’s smile was contagious, causing Nami to smile right back at him. “Just one chapter though.” She says and Luffy just nods. 

He was happy that he was going to hear someone reading this story to him. Just like his friend did as they were kids. He found the story soothing, and a bit familiar in some way, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Before he could ask (y/n) about the story, and the meaning behind it. They had disappeared, leaving the book behind. It was the only thing he had left of them. Hoping that if he was able to read the story and understand it, maybe- just maybe they would return back to him.

[yujinnieswifeu]

can you do one where the reader feels like they have lost their sex appeal and asks a friend for help to understand the situation? (Here my inspo and can you do a g!p too plz)

Pairings: sub!fem reader x g!p dom!wonyoung

Warnings: smut, g!p wonyoung (wonyoung has a dick)

a/n: hi anon! Just wanna say thanks for the inspo, i really like it when people request a plot which you did, and also i rlly hope you enjoy this cause i sure did when i wrote🥹. U didn’t request any specific idol so i just went w wony to complete ot5 and also cause i feel she would fit this inspo the best! (Btw, i recognise the fanart hehe, should i write for genshin too? 🤭)

It has been weeks since you and Wonyoung did that. Every time you try to initiate it, she would decline it, telling you she wants to go to sleep or that she was tired. It has you overthinking, what if she doesn’t like you in that way anymore? Are you just not attractive to her? So many thoughts whirl in your mind and you really needed to let it out. So who else than your bestie? Surely she can help you with this situation right?

。。。(it means time skip)

“I..I don’t know how to tell you this.” You say, feeling embarrass even thinking about the situation you were going through now, your cheeks feeling hot at the thought of telling something so personal to your best friend. But she was the only one who you could rely on whenever you had troubles. “y/nnnn, you better tell me now.” She dragged her words, rolling her eyes in slight annoyance. You had been this way for the past 30 minutes, and Rei was starting to get frustrated she was not able to get it out from you.

“Fine! Ugh, ithinkilostmysexappeal!” The words comes out quickly, the pout on your face as you look at the floor instead, suddenly finding that to be more interesting. The sudden sound of laughter floods the café instead, your head immediately shoots up, looking at Rei who was now laughing. You looked around, seeing some people stare your way and you glared at her. “Keep it down!” You whispered and she wiped the tears that escaped from laughing so much. “I-i’m sorry, i just can’t believe you just said that.” She said, now more calmly as you sighed frustratingly.

“Wony has been ignoring my advances when i try to initiate.” You say truthfully, your brows furrow in thought, your expression showing how worried you were that Rei becomes serious. “And what does she say?” She frowns, her fingers wrapping around the straw as she stirs her drink, taking a sip of it. “She just tells me she does not feel like it, sometimes she says it’s because she’s tired. I’m worried Rei.” You looked at the table as you let out your emotions, and Rei pouts as she stares at you.

“Maybe she’s just tired like she says? Honestly, i know Wonyoung could never stop loving you with how she keeps talking about you.” You looked up at her, tilting your head. “How do you know that?” You were surprised, Rei has never told you stuff concerning your girlfriend before, so it came off as surprising for you. That was until you could see the slight tint of red on her cheeks, a smirk appearing on your face instead. “Rei…don’t tell me…it’s Liz isn’t it?” You squealed, and it wad Rei’s turn to look at the floor, covering her face.

“Aha, i knew it!” You say rather too loud, attracting some eyes at your table once again, and you mutter a sorry in their direction, looking at your friend who only groans. “Yes but i can’t help it when she looks like a teddy bear most of the time!” It was your turn to laugh, but not as loud this time, with Rei quickly bringing you back to the topic at hand. “Anyways, i think you don’t need to worry so much y/n yah, maybe you just need to..up your game?” She raises her brows in a playful manner, which makes you giggle a little. “You mean…dress something that makes her want to do that with me?” She nods her head, and you give it a thought.

Dress something..what always makes Wonyoung go crazy? Your mind reeled with different images of you, and you were sure your face was red. Rei was giggling at your face, taking pictures from her phone as you groaned, trying to snatch her phone from her.

。。。

You were nervous, your heart was racing every millisecond at this point, you looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, the headband rested on your head was one with bunny ears, and you had wore a lingerie with her favourite colour red. When Rei told you earlier to wear something that would make her go crazy, you immediately thought of this since you had wore something similar before and it had made her go feral. You just hoped the outfit you had on would make her go as feral as that time.

Soon you could hear the sounds of keys jangling, the door opening, and her voice ringing throughout the house.

“Baby i’m home!” She had said, and instead of replying or your usual, where you would greet her with a hug, you immediately jumped on the bed, sprawling yourself out instead to look sexy for her. “Babes?” Her voice echos again, and you could hear the door to your shared bedroom open, your heart was racing as she opens the door fully, her eyes immediately on yours as she froze there on the spot. Her eyes were boring holes into your skin, it made you feel naked, the electric feeling running through you. “Welcome home Wony..h-how do you like my outfit? I dressed up for you since you haven’t been giving my body attention a-and though-” She stops your rambling instead by kissing you with hunger, her hands lost in your hair as she slides them down your back, feeling your skin on her fingers as you melted into her, moaning against her lips.

She pulled away, her eyes now a darker shade of brown, as she bit her bottom lip. “My bunny wants attention that bad huh?” There was that nickname, you only whimper at her words, her hand slides up to play at your headband, stroking the ears as her eyes stayed glue to yours. “Fuck..you make me so hard y/n..” She whispers against your ears, her tongue probes out, flicking against your earlobe as she grinds herself against you, making you feel how hard she was and you gasp, your fingers around her back pulling her closer to you. “Y-you feel that bunny?” Panting, she pulls away, giving you a show as she undo her blouse and unclasps her bra quickly, the bra falling off as she throws it somewhere across the room, leaving the blouse on as she knew what it does to you.

Moving next to you, she pats her lap and you get the message, your thighs over hers as you watch her undo her belt. The bulge was already obvious, poking at her pants wanting to be freed of its confinements. It only makes you squirm on her lap, watching her as she finally pulls down her pants, helping her to get rid of it fully as you throw it at the edge of the bed. You stared at her covered bulge again, a damp spot evident on her panties. It makes you bite your lips, and you hear her clicking her tongue. “Eyes up here bunny.” The nickname rolls over her lips, making you whimper again as you look up into her eyes, feeling like a prey as she stares into yours like a predator. “I want to see you bounce on me bunny, you’re good at that aren’t you? You’re a bunny after all” She cocks her head to one side, and you nod your head desperately. The feeling between your legs was uncomfortable at this point, just aching to be filled with her cock.

You feel her pressing her fingers over your clothed area, the pressure on your clit makes you move your hips, moaning softly for her. She bites her lips, watching you as you masturbate on her fingers, it only makes her harder. She stills your hips with her other hand, sliding your panties to one side, looking down at how wet you are, it almost makes her moan. “Fuck…you’re such a fucking tease huh bunny? Wearing my favourite colour on you..and those bunny ears, you know what it does to me.” She groans, feeling her squeeze at your hip where her hand stayed, before feeling her pull your body closer to her, reaching to take her cock, stroking it and slapping it over your clit.

You gasp, your hands gripping her shoulders as she continues to slap her tip over your clit, making it red and puffy just how she likes it. “So pretty for me, i love you like this bunny..now show me how you bounce on my cock.” She orders, making you whine out. Your hand goes to your panties, wanting to take them off before feeling her hands stop you. “Don’t. I want it on bunny.” She warns, her eyes glaring into yours to not talk back which makes you gulp instead, feeling her guide her tip over your sopping hole. Your eyes rolls to the back when you feel her tip past your hole, the feeling only makes you moan loudly, gripping at her shoulders.

She pulls you down slowly over her cock, letting you adjust to her size before she was fully inside of you. The feeling only makes you whimper, as you start to bounce on her cock. She groans as she watches you move up and down on her cock, her hands goes to your ass, giving them a small squeeze before spreading your asscheeks apart, stretching your hole. It only makes it easier for you to move all the way, the added sensation causes your body to tremble slightly, a shiver running down your spine as you continue to milk her dry.

“W-what a good bunny.” She praises you, pressing her lips on yours as you both make out messily, her tongue slides across your bottom lip asking for access and you part your lips, the feeling of her tongue around yours makes you moan softly, still bouncing on her cock. You could feel her fingers running up your spine, making you shiver as she goes to unclasp your bra.

Pulling away from the kiss, she watches you as you continue to masturbate yourself over her cock, the feeling of your walls wrapping around her makes her moan softly, her hand goes over to your breasts as they shake with each bounce, stimulating them. She could feel your walls tightening around her, making her head tilt to the back as she lets out a throaty moan. “S-so fucking tight bunny.” She groans out, before gripping on your hips, guiding you over her cock.

You could feel your stomach coil, the need to come washes over you “I-i need to cum please Wony?” You struggle to say, and she holds your hip in place, driving her cock in and out of your pussy instead. You cry out, head lost in her neck as she moves her hips even faster, fucking you roughly, making your eyes roll. “I-i’m going to breed this pussy full of my bunnies, o-oh fuck fuck fuck, cum with me bunny!” Her words only sends you over the edge as you cum all over her cock, your eyes rolls back as you see white, crying out her name as your walls closes around her, feeling her seeds paint your insides white.

She pants softly, your head nestled in her neck as you both take some time to come down from your shared orgasms. “Wow.” She wearily says, her fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. You look up at her, and she smiles down at you. “Finally back to earth?” She teases, and you roll your eyes playfully. “Well no, i’m still in heaven.” You reply, a smile forming on your face and you could see her cheeks turn slightly red. It was like a whole different demeanour from when she fucked you, but you liked it either way.

“You going to tell me why you dressed up as a bunny now?” She changes the topic, and it makes you bite your bottom lip nervously. “I just…just thought that i lost my sex appeal.” You tell her truthfully, and her brows furrows in thought, thinking back on how she has been the past few days, the realisation hits her and she sighs. “Baby, look at me.” She says, making you look up into her eyes and she cups your cheeks in her palms. “I’m sorry, i didn’t notice i was neglecting my poor bunny, but i swear i still love you okay? I’ve just been really busy with work and just want to sleep each time i hit the bed.” She pouts, her eyes now looking sad as she stares at your face. You gave her a comforting smile instead, before pressing your lips on hers once more.

“And i’m sorry i did not communicate this with you sooner, it was wrong of me too.” She giggles, her infamous grin appearing on her face instead. “Well, i quite like this one though, you looked so hot in that bunny outfit.” She bites her bottom lip, and you only hide your face against her neck, whining for her to stop teasing you. Giggling, she pulls your face to hers, pecking your lips. “I love you my bunny.” She says, her forehead against yours. “I love you too Wony. And we should wash up now.” You were about to pull away before she pulls you back into her embrace.

“No, let’s stay in this position for a while, i like being inside of you my bunny.” She teases, and you knew you had a long night ahead of you.

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 04 - 'nix is sick of this shit

wc: 595

synopsis: phoenix prides herself on knowing almost everything pertinent, it's the parts she doesn't know that leaves her on edge.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the support with this universe has been incredible, thank you all so much, i really enjoy being able to write shorter pieces as an outlet while working on my 10k an update longer series. (ps: taglist is still open!)

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Natasha's voice is firm.

Bob to his credit seems a little anxious from where he's stood a few feet behind her. He's obviously trying to respect your privacy, but something tells you he's also there to be a witness for whatever this confrontation was about.

“You're going to have to specify Phoenix,” you tell her flatly.

You were sat on a bench in the locker room, redoing your hair before your next run. You’d needed a moment to splash some water on your face and refocus. Bob and ‘Nix were still in their gear as well, they were next on the rotation.

“Where do I even start? You and Rooster? Him and Maverick? How about Harvard and Yale’s attitude too?” she huffs and you meet her gaze challengingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you offer in response.

Natasha lets out a groan, and Bob winces. “Well it's too late for that!” she huffs, very clearly annoyed.

“Leave it alone, ‘Nix,” you tell her, tone serious.

“No! I have never heard you shout at someone like that, especially not while in the air! Honestly, I’ve never heard Rooster get that wound up either! What the fuck is going on?”

“Seriously, Nat, just drop it,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I can't! I won’t! I’m going on this mission Athena, you know it and I know it. I don't know why Hangman only ever listens to you, or why he leaves every one else out to dry, but I do not want him leading that team. I need it to be you and Rooster. But if you and Rooster can't fucking get along we're all screwed.”

You frown at her and you understand where she's coming from, but part of you can’t help but stay closed off, especially about this. “Nat, we don't have the time, and honestly… honestly it’s none of your business,” you say voice firm.

The look in her eye turns hard, but you stand your ground. You’d always been able to give it to each other straight, calling the other out when necessary, and drawing hard lines when needed. This was one of those times.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s not like Rooster and there’s something going on that you’re both ignoring,” she decides.

There’s a lot we’re ignoring, you want to say. “Let it go, Trace. Final warning,” you say instead, you’re honestly not entirely sure what will happen if she keeps pushing, you’re not sure you want to see who would win in a battle of wills between the two of you, you know you both will get hurt in the process.

She seems to have the same realization because instead of pushing further, she lets out another groan, “This isn’t over!” she shouts as she stomps off, a bashful Bob in tow.

“I would never dream,” you mutter sarcastically after her, tucking your hair back up, and then heading back to the waiting room.

You want to say the cold water and redoing your hair helped, but you feel just as exhausted as you did after stalking off the tarmac leaving Bradley behind. You see him when you walk in, and his eyes focus on you. Your lips tug down and you turn looking for your next partner.

You spot Fritz still waiting by your gear, and you offer a tense smile as you pick up your vest and sling it back on.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s hit it,” you confirm, before following him back down to the tarmac.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[thedemonofcat]

“You love selfishly,” the witch told Geralt, which was pretty presumptuous seeing as how they’d met all of 5 minutes ago. And those 5 minutes had been spent trying to kill each other. “This selfishness will hurt you and those you love. Until you learn to love selflessly, you will only take your pleasure in the pleasure of others.”

Even as the curse took hold, Geralt didn’t panic. As curses went, it didn’t sound so bad. The bit about “pleasure” made it sound like it was about sex. Like, he wouldn’t be able to feel good unless his partner did, which was a standard Geralt held for himself anyway.

Only, the curse was much more than what he had assumed. Geralt soon discovered that food had lost its taste, that he tossed and turned all night. He wasn’t in pain, but he was never comfortable.

Fuck.

Through trial and error, Geralt learned the rules of his curse. It was pretty simple really. He couldn’t enjoy anything in life alone. Someone had to be nearby and enjoying it with him. Their pleasure was his pleasure. If that person wasn’t pleased with a meal—or in general—Geralt’s food would taste poorly too.

This made things difficult for Geralt. He had a solitary profession. Additionally, the people he did meet were never comfortable around him: all scared of hateful or suspicious.

Geralt found some work arounds though. Roach was a lifesaver: if she was eating, he could eat nearby and taste his meal. As long as she slept well—and nearby—he could sleep.

Winter was better: he explained his situation to his brothers, and he was never left without a companion. They offered to travel with him on the path, but he refused. He could endure the rest of the year as long as he had Roach

Geralt considered breaking the curse; however, he honestly wasn’t sure how. He honestly didn’t believe in love that was completely selfless. Relationships were always about give and take. People always wanted things from one another.

Years passed, Geralt endured, and then he met Jaskier.

Jaskier was… odd. He had taken one glance at a witcher, a rumored butcher, and decided that Geralt was his traveling companion. And then his muse. And then his friend. No matter how Geralt tried to disabuse him of any of these notions.

He did admit that having Jaskier with him made the path easier. He didn’t have to carefully time his meals and sleep around Roach when the bard was around. Jaskier was also surprisingly easy to please. Geralt could give him stale bread to eat and a lumpy mattress to sleep on, and the bard exuded joy.

Even while complaining the entire time.

The oddities continued when Geralt discovered that Jaskier didn’t have to eat a meal to enjoy it. Once, Geralt had been grievously injured, and Jaskier had insisted on spoonfeeding him. Even though the bard didn’t eat a morsel, the bard was so happy that the soup tasted like ambrosia to Geralt.

It was all so strange, and it made Geralt strange too. He caught himself thinking about how to make Jaskier happy. Not because of the curse. Because…because it was Jaskier, and Jaskier was meant to be happy.

Geralt loved seeing Jaskier smile, especially when he laughed. He'd never been one for music, but the sound of Jaskier's laughter was the sweetest melody to him.

But there were days when Jaskier seemed lost. Despite his usual cheerfulness and boundless energy, sometimes a deep sadness settled over the bard.

“You need to get up,” Geralt said. It had been three days since Jaskier had refused to leave his bed at the inn where they were staying, and Geralt was running low on coin.

“Then just leave me,” Jaskier muttered. “You always say you will.”

“I don’t mean that,” Geralt replied. “You know that.” This time, his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Leave me alone, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

On days like this, Geralt wondered most about the curse. Was it selfish of him to wish Jaskier weren’t sad? To want to understand the monsters lurking in the bard’s mind so he could fight them?

All Geralt knew was that he loved seeing Jaskier happy.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Kim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : assumed cheating ; general angst ; fluff at the end ; Word Count : 5.1k Request : pls pls pls angst/fluff w seungmin 🙏🏼

5… “She’s coming down the hallway right now…” 4… “I don’t think they look good together either…” 3… “Can’t believe he actually invited her to the show tonight looking like that…” 2… “He could do so much better…” 1… “Do it now.” …

You turned the corner to go into the dressing room where he was and there she was, sitting on his lap, his hands on her hips, and neither of them looked particularly uncomfortable… It almost seemed like she had been sitting there for a solid few minutes before you had even walked in. You didn’t like the sight of it, but you also couldn’t seem to look away from it either. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach, the sudden weight making you nauseous. 

You were never the kind to make a scene, you weren’t vocal about anything that upset you, and maybe that’s why your life always seemed to go to shit once things finally went well. That’s why you quickly turned away, your head hung low as you moved in the same direction you had just come from. “Hey… You alright?” Jeongin asked as you ran right into him, but you didn’t even care to respond, side stepping out of his way and walking faster until you were out of the building. 

The makeup artist was always so… touchy… And Seungmin honestly hated it. He hated having to get his makeup and his hair down, he hated the way she’d look at him way too long. It was part of the job though, and he knew that in order to do what he loved to do, he had to endure it, and that’s the only reason he didn’t bring it up to Chan or any of the staff members. 

At least you were coming tonight, that thought alone had him dealing with all the annoying shit that came along with having to go on stage. You had finally been able to get off work to come to one of his shows, and this one was a pretty big deal, it was the third comeback show, sadly you couldn’t make it to the first two, but he told you that making it to even one was good enough for him. Having you in the crowd was important though, he wanted to look good for you, he wanted to do good for you. 

“Your skin is always so clear, you make my job so easy.” The stylist said, her hands running over his cheeks as she looked at him. It was honestly so annoying, but he forced a smile as he looked past her, staring at himself in the mirror. “If it’s so easy, then why do you take so long?” He muttered, and while he didn’t exactly want to sound rude, he was hoping that maybe she’d get the hint and stop touching him and just do her job. 

He absolutely hated when other people touched him, it felt wrong, especially when it was another woman, and the only reason he even allowed this to be done was because it was for work and you, being the amazing, understanding woman that you are, had told him that it was okay since it was job related. 

“Really?” She was talking on her phone, and he tried not to let the loudness get to him, instead closing his eyes and leaning his head back in his chair to just let her do what she had to do so he could get the hell out of there. “I just don’t know how anyone would think they look good together. They’re like… complete opposites.” Was she always this much of a bitch or was he just really intune to her bitchiness today? It seemed like the more he tried to ignore it, the louder she got though. “What’s she wearing tonight? I bet she looks like shit. She doesn’t deserve to even be seen with someone like him.” 

The one thing he hated more than people touching him though… People who thought that they were better than everyone else. He knew that he could be somewhat of an ass sometimes, but hearing the way she was talking about whoever this poor girl was… It made him feel guilty for even being in ear shot of this conversation. He was sure that whoever the guy was that she was talking about would never choose someone like her, especially if he was already with someone else. 

“Now?” She asked, and then before Seungmin even had the chance to question what she was talking about, he felt the weight of her crashing down on his lap, his hands instinctively shooting out to her hips, not to hold her, but to push her off. That’s what he was trying to do, but it was like she was holding herself there, letting gravity take over completely. “Oh gosh… Sorry… I tripped.” She said, trying to sound innocent, which only disgusted Seungmin more. 

“Can you get off of me now?” He said, trying his best to keep his cool, but he was beyond frustrated and he was pissed and he just wanted to take a breather. He knew that you’d be there soon, and all he wanted was to see you at this point and appreciate just how much of a bitch you weren’t. “Seriously, get up.” The composure was slowly starting to slip away, and he finally was able to push her off after what felt like the longest minute of his life. 

“I must have tripped over the cord for the straightener…” She said between giggles. “I wrinkled your pants, let me just-” 

He immediately grabbed her wrists to stop her before she could even get close to him. “Don’t touch me.” He quickly stood up from his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. “Does anyone know if Y/N made it here yet? Did you even let her in? Jesus Christ…” You were the only person at this point who would be able to help calm him down and for some reason you weren’t there yet even though you had texted him more than 15 minutes ago that you’d be there soon. 

Just as he was about to start looking for you, Jeongin walked into the room, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Seungmin. “Did you and Y/N get into a fight or something?” He asked, and Seungmins eyes lowered to match the look on the maknaes face. “She walked by, she didn’t even say anything when she ran into me. She looked really upset… or really sick… Is she okay?” 

Were you okay? Fuck if he knew, he hadn’t even seen you, the only person that he even liked seeing and he finds out that you were already gone? What the fuck happened? As if he weren’t already agitated enough today, now this? “She left left? Like… Where was she going?” Seungmin asked, his fingers raking through his hair as he tried to keep his cool, but his patience was slowly dwindling as the youngest shrugged his shoulders. “Cool, thanks.” He snapped, making a mental note to apologize for it later as he walked out of the room. 

“Seungmin~” The stylist called out behind him, and even though he tried to quicken his steps, he felt her fingers grasp at the back of his jacket, tugging him back and keeping him from going forward any further. “I’m not done with your makeup yet! You go on in like… 30 minutes! Where are you going?” 

30 minutes. It wasn’t that long when counting how much time he had before he could go on stage, but it felt like too long when it came down to leaving you on your own and not knowing what was going on. Seungmin had priorities, and of course his job was one of them, but you were his top priority. “Let Chan and the rest of the staff know that I won’t be at this show.” He said, and it had been his first choice, his only choice in this matter. He wasn’t going to leave you alone, no matter what the problem was, he was your boyfriend and he was going to be there for you. 

“What?!” She gripped onto his jacket tighter, and he truly was on the verge of completely snapping. She had been getting on his nerves all day, and he was finally at his last, and she seemed to be finding a way to get on that one as well. “Why? You can’t miss a comeback stage… This is ridiculous. Chan will be pissed. Do you know how hard I worked on your-” 

He shrugged out of the jacket before whipping around, his eyes like daggers as he glared at her. “I don’t care. There’s more important things for me to worry about than the third show. They’ve seen me twice, I’m sure they’ll get by without me this time.” He stormed off, leaving her absolutely stunned, but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about anything but you right now. 

You sat in your apartment, sipping on an hours old cup of coffee that was colder than the drinks that you had in the fridge. You hadn’t even been able to finish it this morning, you had been so excited to just get to the studio and see Seungmin. Your hair hadn’t been done, you didn’t wear anything fancy, Seungmin had said many times that he loved the way you looked when you weren’t even trying to dress up for him, when you weren’t even trying to look good… That’s when you looked your best. 

Walking down that long hallway to get to his dressing room, it felt like it took forever, and all the words that were whispered amongst the staff members felt like they were being directed towards you. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t saying any names, and it just seemed like they were all staring at you… You tried not to think too much about it, thinking only of the fact that you were about to see Seungmin and that in itself made you happy, it allowed you to completely ignore the offhanded insults that were being thrown around you. 

That happiness that had pushed you forward was immediately gone when you saw the girl sitting on Seungmins lap. He didn’t even let you sit on his lap in public, not even around the other guys… And then came the barely muffled snickers from the female staff behind you, the soft murmurs of how cute the two of them were together. How were you even supposed to process what was going on in that moment? You could barely even begin to process it now. 

The pouring in of texts had your phone vibrating non-stop, that mixed with the random calls that were thrown in, and soon enough your lock screen was completely filled with notifications. All of them were from Seungmin, but you didn’t know what to say to him. Was he cheating on you? You weren’t sure if it had gone that far… yet… But clearly they were closer than any of the other guys with their staff members. 

“Y/N?!” Your name was shouted from the other side of the door, you heard the doorknob jiggle. You had locked it, but he had the keys to your apartment, it was just one of the signs that you trusted him… Maybe you shouldn’t have. “Where… Fuck… Y/N! I left my keys back at the studio… Can you open the door?” 

You were shocked that he had even noticed that you were gone, that you hadn’t come in to see him considering he seemed so invested in the stylist. How could he be so open with it when he knew that you were on your way. You had just talked to him to tell him that you were not even five minutes away. Did he really think that you were going to be okay with that? Was it because he was an idol? He had never striked you as that kind of person, but maybe you had read him all wrong. 

“Jeongin said that you looked sick… Are you okay?” You heard a loud thump against the door and you questioned whether it was his fist or his head, but judging by the loud groan that followed soon after, you felt like you were right to assume that it was his forehead. “You’re really scaring me right now… You haven’t answered my texts or my calls, and I don’t want to have to do it, but I’ll break through the door.” 

Would he actually break through the door? You weren’t sure… But the uncertainty had you quickly getting up and undoing the lock. Not because you wanted to let him in, but if your door ended up damaged at all, you’d be the one paying for a new one. “I’m fine. You can go back now.” You mumbled, turning away just as fast and heading back to your spot on the couch. 

“Clearly you’re not fine. You haven’t responded to me at all.” He walked over to where you sat and dropped down onto the couch beside you, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and turning it on to see all of his unanswered notifications. “Are you sick? Did something happen on your way in?” His hand reached out to touch your forehead and you jerked your head away, turning in the complete opposite direction of him, not wanting to be touched by the hand that had just been holding onto another woman. “Hey… Are you mad at me?” 

“I don’t know what I feel toward you just yet… I just know that I’m upset.” Was truly the only reason that you wanted to give him, that you could give him, but then he let out a little “huh?” and it was even more upsetting that he’d try to play stupid. “Maybe you’d understand how I feel if I just sat on Felixs lap and he had his hands on me. Or maybe you wouldn’t… Clearly you don’t care enough.” 

“Excuse me?” He practically shrieked, grabbing your chin and turning your head so you’d look at him. “You’re not sitting on anyone else’s lap… You’re not being touched by anyone that isn’t me. The hell are you talking about?” You could feel his body shaking ever so slightly with anger at the thought of one of his members being disrespectful enough to touch you in any way knowing that you were his, but again, his complete lack of understanding, or the false act of not understanding had you rolling your eyes. 

“Seriously Seungmin, just get out.” The words were breathed out in an exasperated sigh. You tried to get him to get it, but he just didn’t, he refused to, and that in itself was tiring. You were just emotionally drained, you couldn’t put up with this, you didn’t want to. 

His head shook fast before his eyes were set on yours once more. “No because now I’m really fucking confused and I’m even more scared than I was before… Is there something going on between you and Felix?” His voice was laced with panic and frustration, but your jaw dropped at the assumption. How could he even think that? It’s like he completely brushed over the fact that it was a hypothetical, that you were trying to make an example. 

“No!” You almost shouted, tears of anger stinging your eyes. “Don’t you get it?! I’m talking about you!” His head cocked to the side, like a confused puppy as he pointed at himself, questioning you once more. “Just go be with your fucking stylist, Seungmin. I’m sure she misses you and your lap is getting really fucking cold.”  

His mind had been so fogged with worrying about you that he had almost, although he would rather it have been fully, forgotten about the incident. You had already gotten up off the couch, motioning rather sternly toward the door for him to leave, and that’s when it finally clicked. “Wait… No, Y/N. I didn’t… That… I didn’t want that. She did that!” The words rolled off his tongue faster than any rap that the older guys had done before. “Mmhm” Was all you said in response, but his eyes were like saucers, wide and dark brown, but so glassy as his own tears began to well. “I’m serious! I was trying to push her off and she wouldn’t move! I swear!” His hands were clasped together in front of his chest, like he was praying for you to listen to him, to believe him. 

“Seriously Seungmin… just… just go.” You huffed, your thumb and pointer finger coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Everything that had happened, you just felt weak, you were tired, and truth be told, you just wanted to be alone. You motioned towards the door once more, breathing heavily through your nose as you tried to fight back your tears. “Leave. Please.” 

It hurt, it was devastating to walk out the front door, to leave you behind knowing that once that door closed behind him you’d be crying by yourself. You didn’t want to see him though, and he knew that if he had seen something like that, if you had been sitting on Felixs lap like you had said, he would feel the same way. 

You wouldn’t do something like that though, he knew you wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t do something like that either. Of course right now your mind was too frazzled to even think straight, and it was so early in your relationship too. The two of you had only been together for 8 months, he was well prepared for small bumps in the road, but he wasn’t prepared for this. He loved you, and while he knew he didn’t say it enough, he hoped that you’d know that he loved you enough, he loved you too much to do something like this to you. 

It took a couple minutes for him to get himself together as he stood outside of your door, and by getting himself together, it was just him switching from being devastated about being kicked out to pissed at the stylist. She did this, she caused this. As he walked out of your building his mind replayed the moments that lead up to the stylist landing in his lap, the call that she was on, who she was talking to. It was all clicking now. 

The phone call, the way she talked so disrespectfully, the way it seemed like whoever they were talking about was right there… She was talking about you… People were talking about you like that… and now his blood was boiling as he climbed into his car and slammed the door shut, whipping out of the parking spot and speeding down the road back towards the studio. 

“You’re back for the performance?” One of the male staff members asked and Seungmin walked up to the building, his head only shaking in response to the man's question, making a b-line straight to the room where everything had happened. “Is everything okay? Did you for-“ 

Seungmin turned to look at the man, violence burning bright in his eyes, and once again, he’d have to make a mental note to apologize to the man who hadn’t truly done anything to him, he was just mad. The man’s mouth snapped shut as he backed away, his hands up in front of him as he continued backing up until he went around the corner and was out of sight. 

As he got to the room, he could hear the stylist and a couple other people talking, all of them females, and he stood just off to the side of the door to listen. “He just ran off, can you believe that?” “Because fucking Jeongin came in and told him that his girlfriend looked upset.” “I’d be upset if I looked like that too.” “Can’t believe he’d actually chase after her. Is he even worried about his reputation? His image?” “He’d look so much better with you noona, just give him time.” 

Blood boiling wasn’t even close anymore, it had all but evaporated now as he listened to them talk about you, about himself… As if she ever had a chance in hell. Of course, violence couldn’t be used, but god, he wished it could be. He wanted her gone, he wanted all of them, every single one that had spoken wrongly about you, he wanted them jobless, out on the streets, he wanted them to suffer. 

He pulled his phone out, knowing that they were too stupid to stop talking, too deep in their disgusting conversation to just let it end. He started recording, doing his best to keep from plowing through the cracked door and going off on each and every one of them. This was the evidence he needed, not just to show management, but to show you that he was being honest, that he didn’t want any part of what had happened. 

“What did he do when you fell on his lap? I thought the two of you looked adorable when I saw you through the mirror.” “He got really fucking mad. Can you believe that? He told me to get off? Like… hello? Has he even taken the time to look at me? I’m way better.” “Did he… you know…?” “Pfft… no! It’s like… he has a thing for ugly girls.” “Don’t worry, if you keep doing it enough, she’ll just dump him and then you and Seungmin will be together. Yay!” “Shut up! Don’t say his name… What if someone hears?” “No one is going to hear, there isn’t even anyone around right now.”

That was enough, and while he was sure they’d keep talking until someone walked in, he couldn’t stomach hearing anyone talking about you like that. You were such an amazing person, the best girlfriend, the sweetest and kindest person he had ever met. You were his perfect match, completing him in a way that no one else ever could. 

They wouldn’t keep working there, they wouldn’t be there to upset you anymore, and he surely would make sure they’d never try to ruin your relationship ever again. Just as he was about to walk away, the woman filed out of the room, a shriek of excitement leaving the stylist. “Seungminnie! You came back!” She squealed, running over to him and hooking her arm around his. “I knew you would. You still have time to be on before the show starts.” 

She was walking along beside him, and he was gritting his teeth the entire time, breathing deeply through his nose, but then her hand lowered and he felt her fingers brush against his thigh and he couldn’t stay quiet anymore, stopping to look at her but all he saw was red. 

“Stop.” He said flatly, grabbing her hand and pushing it away from him. “I know what you’re doing, I know what you’re trying and it’s not going to work.” He moved closer and closer to her until she was backed up against the wall, her eyes wide as he got in her face. “I don’t like you, I will never like you. You’re disgusting and you’re ugly, no amount of makeup will ever fix your personality. Also, you’re fired.” 

“You can’t fire me.” She whispered, her hands folded in front of her as she tried to look as innocent as possible just in case anyone walked past. “I didn’t do anything… you’ve got it all wrong.” She really thought she was smart, and that had Seungmin scoffing as he pulled his phone out and started playing the recording, watching as her eyes went wide. “Wait…” 

“I don’t want you near me, I don’t want you in the same building as me, I don’t want you touching me even if it’s for work. I want you gone. You’re not worth the destruction of my relationship, and if it makes my girlfriend happy, I’ll make them fire you right this minute.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Today is your last day, so pack your shit up. I’m being nice enough to give you the time to do that.” Her mouth fell open and she quickly ducked away from him, running down the hall in the opposite direction, her overly dramatic sobs slowly getting more and more quiet until everything was silent. The other staff members stood around, their eyes wavering as they looked everywhere but at Seungmin. “Don’t think you’re all off the hook… I heard each and every one of you.” 

He didn’t have the time or the patience to get into it with them though, leaving it at that, leaving them to worry just as he had, just like he still is right now about the looming outcome of his relationship. They can worry about their job, and he can hopefully fix what they had messed up. “Hey Seungmin!” Bangchan called, and he could hear the heavy footsteps of the boot clad leader running down the hall to catch up. “Jeongin told us you had to leave… Is everything alright? Are you still gonna be able to make it now?” 

Seungmin shook his head, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “No… I just forgot my keys to the apartment back here in my rush over…” He quickly patted his pockets, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. “Almost forgot them again, thanks for making me remember.” He patted Bangchan on the shoulder as he sprinted past him to grab his bag from the dressing room and then running back out, just barely brushing past Chan. “I promise I’ll tell you about it later! I’ll tell you all of it!” 

The audio clip came to an end… for the third time. The first had been when Seungmin promptly came back to your apartment, tears in his eyes as he let it all play out, and then begged you to believe him. The first listen had ended in you both hugging and crying as you apologized profusely for doubting him even for a second, and he apologized for making you feel that way. Many kisses were given to make up for the almost 2 and a half hours of worrying that you both put each other through. 

The second listen was when he had sent the clip to his managers and then decided that he wanted to listen once more just to try to imagine how they’d react when they heard it. It didn’t take long for Seungmin to get a message back, more apologies for him having to put up with staff members like that, and then apologies to you for being put through something like that. The girls involved were in the process of being reprimanded and fired for their behavior. 

The third listen, the one you had just gone done with, was when Seungmin had gone to the dorms and decided to take you with him. He had promised to tell the guys about what had happened and why he didn’t perform today and the little recording served as the perfect explanation. “I knew something was wrong!” Jeongin exclaimed, his hands clapping together loudly as he motioned to you. “If you would have told me I could have told you all about how much Seungmin hated his stylist. The amount of times he’d come home ranting about how annoying she is… Ugh. So glad she’s gone.” 

You nodded in agreement to Jeongins words as Seungmin draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “This wasn’t about me… It’s about Y/N.” He said firmly, although his touch was soft as he ran his hand up and down your arm. “I’m just glad that she’s so understanding…” 

“Did you cry?” Minho asked, and Seungmin was thrown off by the question, looking around the room at all the guys that were now staring at him awaiting his answer. “I bet you did. You cry when you have to spend late nights at the dorms instead of at her apartment with her.” 

“No I don’t!” Seungmin quickly tried to defend himself. “It’s just that the dorms are kind of dusty and they make my eyes water and my nose runny.” 

“But your eyes aren’t watering and your nose isn’t runny now…” You quizzed, holding back your giggles, and he let out a groan before burying his face in your hair. “You’re so cute… If you want to move into my apartment all you have to do is ask.” You pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head and Minho made a sound of disgust. 

“You two are disgusting, get a room.” Minho grumbled, jokingly tossing a pillow at Seungmin, making sure to completely miss you, before getting up off the couch and heading to the kitchen to help Felix with dinner. 

Jeongin snickered mischievously before calling out to Minho. “Remember! The dust makes him all sniffly! That must be why he’s got five boxes of tissues and the mega bottle of lotion. He must be really dry!” All the men cracked up and you could feel Seungmins body rise about 20 degrees with embarrassment. 

Instead of continuing to hide in your hair, he jumped up, practically diving across the living room to tackle Jeongin who was still laughing hysterically. “It’s not funny! Shut up!” But even you were laughing now, watching as Jeongin pushed Seungmin off of him and the two started to chase each other around the room. 

“I’m glad he’s found someone like you.” Bangchan said once he had walked over to sit beside you, taking the time that he had to really talk to you. “He loves you a lot, I’ve never seen him more panicked than he was earlier today when he thought he was going to lose you. I just hope you’ll stay… That you love him just as much…” 

You took a moment to look around at the chaos unfolding around you, Seungmin and Jeongin fighting each other with the decorative throw pillows as Changbin recorded and Jisung narrated it. Hyunjin sat off to the side, watching with amusement and clapping whenever one of them landed a hit with their pillows. Things were absolutely crazy right now, but you loved it, you loved all of them. You had started with Seungmin, your amazing boyfriend who would do anything for you, and in the span of 8 months you had gained 7 brothers who protect you like their own sibling. “I don’t plan on going anywhere…” You murmured, a smile on your face as you sunk into the couch. There was nothing that anyone could do to split you and Seungmin apart. You were staying as long as he wanted you to, and you hoped that it would be forever. 

[diamondluce]

Pretty stranger

Part 2

Marauders muggle uni AU

wc: 1.4k

a/n: hi loves! Thanks for the notes on the part 1. I appreciate it <33. If you haven't read it here's the link. Let me know what you think. Oh, and if you also have some tips on posting on here and stuff. I'm still getting the hang of it. xoxo --------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus Lupin did not have an easy life being Sirius’s roommate. A moment of peace? Yeah, never heard of that. 

Now he was trying to read whatever he managed to write down and hoped he’d be able to call it an essay. Unfortunately there was a very annoying black-haired bastard babbling into his ear about the most amazing girl he had ever met.

“For the love of God, will you ever shut up?” Remus groaned, his patience wearing thin. “You’ve been rambling about her for hours now. Don’t you have any coursework to do?”

“Pfft.” Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically and fell back onto his bed. “She’s much more interesting than anything Oxford University can offer.” 

Remus just scoffed and turned back to his paper shaking his head. He had known Sirius for over a year now. Always restless, always loud, and always looking for a new distraction to get out of doing what he was actually supposed to. Those distractions were usually just new girls or… well, we don’t talk about that one time. Anyways, no matter how much Remus wanted to huff at his mate for being a chatterbox, something in his tone told him that this girl was not just another pastime. 

“Why didn’t you ask for her name?” Remus muttered against his better judgment, when the dorm became quiet for too long and he started feeling guilty for being so harsh. 

Sirius sat up and shrugged. “Dunno. She was just… I didn’t think about it.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow as he began sharpening his pencil. “I thought half of your pick-up lines start with getting their name.”

Sirius inhaled deeply, staring at the peelings with a thoughtful look that made a small wrinkle between his brows make an appearance. “Not much time for pick-up lines when I was trying to save her from blacking out hunched over the toilet in the most disgusting bathroom I’ve ever seen.” 

Remus glanced up, but on his roommate's face instead of the smirk he expected, he found a kind of seriousness mixed with something else- determination, maybe. He almost felt bad for him. Letting out a breath he leaned back in his chair. “What about that guy she was with?”

Sirius furrowed his brows. “What about him?”

“Well, you’re good with faces. You’ve never seen him before?”

Sirius pondered that question for a moment, his brows going up as he ran a hand through his hair. “Dunno. Maybe?” then after a pause, “Jesus, I hope that was not her boyfriend.”

Remus rubbed under his nose to hide a light chuckle that escaped him. He schooled his expression quickly after Sirius glared at him. “You said she was there with her friends, didn’t mention a boyfriend,” he offered. 

“Yeah…” the boy sighed and stood up grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. “But… I dunno, maybe she did and I just forgot. Or didn’t hear.” he opened the window sitting on the sill. “Fuck, she was so cool, Lupin, you don’t understand.” he mumbled around the cigarette.

“I’m sure you’ll find her.” Remus said with a half-smile and sensing an opportunity of silence on account of his roommate’s dramatic sulking, turned back to his essay. 

A minute passed.

A pained sigh “She was so-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

***

It went on like that for the next week and Remus was sure he was going to rip all his hair out if that idiot didn’t find out who the bloody mystery girl was. It got to a point where whenever a group of girls would pass them Remus would nudge his roommate and ask if any of them look familiar. 

Unfortunately none of them did. 

And Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was so unlike him, honestly. He never got hung up on people like that. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or had never like anyone before. He met plenty of girls and a lot of them were interesting. Well, alright, a fraction. But still. There was something about that girl that just drew him in. It was so ridiculous that he started wondering if maybe he didn’t just accidentally take acid and hallucinate the whole interaction. 

Fortunately, Sirius Black was a lucky bastard. At least in some aspects of his life. 

He was walking with Remus through the Wellington Square to go get some lunch when his gaze, that was lately constantly instinctively searching, fell onto a group of girls walking up the steps of a building. He stopped dead in his tracks and nudged Remus so hard he coughed up a smoke from his cigarette.

“What the-”

“That’s her…” Sirius’s voice was so uncharacteristically soft that Remus barely heard it over his fit. “Which one?” Remus asked, clearing his throat and squinting at the girls. 

“The one on the right. The black coat.” 

Remus tilted his head slightly as he got a good look at them. 

Oh.

“I know her.”

Sirius turned so abruptly he almost got a whiplash. “What?!”

Remus nodded and pointed with his chin “The one with the braid, yeah? I have Latin and Ancient History with her.”

A wicked grin split Sirius’s face and he took Remus’s shoulders and shook him.

“This is brilliant, Lupin! Ah!”

“Gerroff, you twat!” He pushed him off and straightened his jacket. 

They both looked back across the quad, but the girls were already gone. 

“What’s her name?”

Sirius asked, almost breathless, standing still and staring at the building door.

“Artis.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Sirius’s lips. “Artis what?”

“Erm… Potter, I think.” Remus shrugged. 

Sirius tilted his head to the side like a dog and pursed his lips slightly.

“Hmph…” he mused and started walking.

Remus shook his head bewildered slightly, nevertheless following his friend.

“That’s it? ‘Hmph’? You’ve been obsessing over her-”

“I heard that name somewhere. I just can’t remember where.” Sirius ignored him as he continued to walk down the street.

“Oh, I reckon she has a brother. Twin, I think. She said something in class once.”

Sirius turned around walking backwards now. “That must’ve been the guy at the party! They did look alike, now that I think about it.”

Remus nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

“What else did she say?” Sirius fell into step beside his roommate, looking at him expectantly. 

Remus shrugged “Dunno, I spoke to her maybe three times in total. And all of them were about school stuff.”

“Argh, Lupin, how many times do I have to tell you? You need to be more open to people. Now you’re useless.” Sirius groaned, shaking head at his friend.

“Cheers” he replied dryly over the cigarette in his lips.

***

For the next two days Sirius was turning the name “Potter” in his head over and over again. He heard it before somewhere, definitely. And he was now sure he saw the guy from the party before. The question was ‘where?’

Sirius Black knew a lot of people. Unfortunately, his roommate couldn’t say the same, therefore he had to really try to think of something to say about Artis, so Sirius would stop pestering him.

“I dunno. She’s late a lot, I guess.” he said, chewing his toast and chasing it with sweet tea. “Not like late-late, but y’know, fashionably or whatever.” he shrugged.

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, what else?”

“Can’t I eat my bloody breakfast in peace?”

“No.”

Remus sighed. “She’s quite smart actually. Like in history she really knows what’s going on. Has discussions with the teacher,” he recalled. “And in Latin she usually gets top marks.”

Sirius grinned “Knew she was brilliant.”

Remus turned back to his meal while Sirius scanned the dining hall deep in thought. Then-

“Mate, mate, mate!”

Remus picked his head up with a sigh and looked in the direction Sirius was pointing to with his chin.

“That’s our guy!”

“Our?” Remus grimaced but Sirius ignored him.

“Oi! James, get me a cuppa, yeah?” 

Their gazes traveled to a portly guy sitting at the table by the window. Sirius pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Fucking James Potter! The football team captain. Remember? When we wanted to get to that party last year-”

“You wanted.”

“-I was going to talk to him, but then the Prewetts said we could come.”

Sirius had that enigmatic thoughtful look on his face now- the one that usually (always) meant trouble. Remus sighed again and took a bite of his toast, he knew better than to interrupt the momentary peace with a stupid question. 

“It makes sense, y’know…” 

Remus grimaced “what?”

In response Sirius just turned to him with the biggest dopey grin he ever saw. 

“You worry me, Black.”

His roommate just looked at him all smug and leaned back in his chair. 

Everything was perfect.

Artis Potter…

[writeforfandoms]

Island 7

Find the series masterlist

After the revelation of last time, things move forward. You're not entirely sure how you feel about all of this.

Warnings: Feelings of inadequacy, Survivor's typical insistence that the guys survive, swearing, canon typical violence, potential violence.

Word count: 1.3k

It took a couple days to get everything in order as you wanted. Soap and Gaz took care of inventory, and Gaz went over every item with you. 

The list was better than you'd thought it would be, honestly. 

Price was both your biggest asset and your biggest headache. He had to be involved in everything. Which wasn't a big problem, given there were only five of you, but he was annoying sometimes. 

Gaz seemed to have a knack for knowing when you were reaching your limit of Price, because he swooped in more than once to drag you outside or elsewhere. 

Whether it was to protect you or to protect Price, you didn't know. Frankly, you didn't care, either. You were just grateful he did it. 

Price butted heads with you on the tames. More than once. 

“I don't see why we need so many,” he said, hands on his hips, frowning at you. 

You resisted the urge to scream and walk away. Somehow. “Like I told you before, they're the best form of transportation and defense,” you ground out. 

“I understand that,” he snapped back, eyes narrowing, correctly assessing that you were losing your temper. “But why are you trying to get a dozen more?” 

“Because nothing out there is safe,” you half-yelled, gesticulating wildly beyond the gates. “Because out there, most everything wants to hurt you or eat you, and it's only going to get worse as we travel inland towards the volcano. Because if I have to throw a tame between you and a carno, I will do it! Because if we lose Bessie it will be easier to throw supplies onto another tame than carry them ourselves! Because this is the best way I have to keep you idiots safe!” 

“Okay, time to go for a walk.” Gaz looped his arm around your waist and physically pulled you away from Price, quickly putting himself between the two of you. “Take deep breaths for me, yeah? Nice big breaths.” 

You realized your hands were shaking and balled them into fists, pulling in a deep albeit stuttering breath. And then another. 

“Got the armor sorted,” he informed you easily. “Got a few different sizes in there, which is nice. Be able to make sure you're fully kitted. Gotta protect Soap's legs, too.”

You snorted softly, already feeling a bit better. “I don't need the armor,” you muttered stubbornly. 

“Don't worry about Cap,” Gaz said, as if you hadn't spoken. “He'll come ‘round. He's just stubborn sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?” You lifted one hand to wipe under your eyes, just in case. Your hand came back dry. 

Gaz laughed softly. “Fair,” he allowed. “Tell you what. He should finish taming that dino he started with before.” 

“He should,” you agreed with a little sigh. “I don't think he'll listen to me, though.” 

“He will,” Gaz said, free hand patting your arm. “I'll mention to Ghost, too. And you and I can go tame more hyaenadons.” 

“Still want one of your own?” You couldn't help but smile. Biscuit was with Gaz if she wasn't with you. 

“If I can.” He smiled. “Besides, they're good defense, right?”

“Right.” You breathed out slowly. Gaz wasn't arguing. He didn't disagree. In fact, he was helping you. 

It was getting harder to ignore your attraction to him. But you could push it down. 

“If those two each get a tame, that will help,” you mused aloud. “Soap should have a couple, too. Not that these will be exclusive to each of us, but more is better.” 

“Any suggestions?” Gaz kept you walking even around the back of the building. You almost wanted to protest that you were fine, that you didn't need the coddling.

Almost.

“I mean, bigger is better,” you said with a shrug. “Trikes are good for carrying things and for defense, so are stegos. We just want to make sure we don't have to wear ourselves out carrying too much. I have no idea how long it will take us to get to the volcano, or how easy this path will be to find.” 

“Better to be prepared and have too much,” Gaz agreed. 

“Exactly.” You smiled, pleased with his easy acceptance. “I would love to get another couple raptors, but that would be very dangerous.” 

“You never did tell us how Tom got that one.”

As if he knew you were talking about him, Ripper growled from his pen, claws tapping at the wood in the sign that meant he wanted something. 

“Ask me after dinner,” you decided, detouring to grab a chunk of meat. “It might be good information for the lot of you to have anyway.” You walked over and tossed the meat into Ripper's pen, Gaz still right beside you. 

“Nervous?” He asked softly, one hand migrating to your back again to rub gently. 

“A bit,” you admitted carefully. “I've traveled before, on this island, but…” You trailed off. This was different, and you knew it. This was the possibility of escape, or saving someone, of getting out. 

But getting out to what?

You swallowed hard, and Gaz stopped, turning to fully face you, gaze searching your face. Without a word, he hugged you tight. 

“I'm okay,” you whispered, even as your arms lifted slowly to hug him in return. 

“Course,” he agreed, though he made no move to release you. “I've got you.” 

You breathed in sharply, gaze blurring with sudden tears. It wasn't just Gaz. It wasn't just the first hug you'd had in a long time. It wasn't just the uncertainty of this escape. 

It was also the absolute, undeniable longing to find out what life outside would be like with this man that hit you like a truck. You wanted to know how he took his coffee. If he was a morning person. How he dressed on a lazy day at home. What his perfect idea of a date night entailed. His favorite kind of flower. 

Your throat constricted with the feeling that you'd never know. You'd never have a chance to find out. 

You'd probably die here, but you'd make sure he got out, if it was the last thing you ever did. 

You pulled back from him first, the instant your eyes were dry. You refused to look at him, to see the pity in his eyes, instead looking down at your boots. 

“We'll need to gather more berries in the morning,” you told him brusquely. “Maybe take the ghillie and go try to tame some hyaenadons for the trip. Might be able to tame them in two days if we force the issue a bit.” 

Gaz sighed softly, disappointed, though you weren't sure why. “Alright,” he agreed. “Sounds like a plan. Want me to take care of dinner tonight?” 

“Sure,” you agreed after a moment. That would give you time to take care of a few other things. “Yell if you need anything.” 

“You do the same.” Gaz grabbed your hand and squeezed once. You forced yourself to smile, returning the squeeze, before you stepped away. 

You had other preparations to make. More planning to do. You wanted to make sure of the route before you started - as safe as you could manage without being unreasonable, sticking to water for as long as you could. Once the lot of you approached the volcano, there would be little or no fresh water. 

Which meant carrying canteens and boiling fresh water daily to be sure there would be enough. 

Maybe you'd get lucky and a drop would fall nearby with a few more canteens. More water was never a bad idea. 

You stood in front of the map, arms crossed tightly across your chest, ignoring the rest of the world, until Gaz called everyone for dinner. 

It didn't matter if you survived this. It mattered if they survived.

[tubasmiracle]

-} You were my best friend and that was the worst part {-

Pairing: Taehyun x Reader, Taehyun x Lily

Word count: 1.6K

Genre:Angst, fluff

Warnings: Reader wants someone to be dead (not literally).

Author's note: This is based on the song Heather by Conan Gray. I think I can write quickly now, I wrote this in a few hours time only, which I wasn't able to do like 2 weeks back, so I am happy about it. Sorry if the ending is rushed, I wanted to write something and finish it too. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

“How do I look?” Y/N twirled in her comfy sweater, it was an early onset of December, it was the third of December, and amazingly enough, it was Y/N’s birthday too.

“I told you, you look pretty Y/N,” Taehyun said as he smiled at his best friend. She is so cute, he thought.

“Thank you for this Taehyun. It's so pretty and so comfy. It's so warm too!” Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the warmth of the sweater her…best friend FOR NOW gave her. Taehyun had several sweaters, this was one of his favourites, his most one though, he is not giving anyone any soon, maybe, she will be the one soon?

“Well, take it, it's yours forever, honestly, it looks better on you than me. You look good in it.” Taehyun stated his true feelings.

“Omg, thank you Taehyun!!” Y/N exclaimed as she hugged him.

“Hm hm, sure.” Taehyun said patting her back lightly.

Y/N could hear her heart beating at an extraordinary rate, it just hadn't jumped out of her chest, she wondered how his heart was, was he feeling the same as her? Was he feeling as consumed by her as she is by him? Were his feelings as strong as her too? She didn't know the definite answer but oh, she was positive.

She knew Taehyun hadn't shown interest in anyone till now, so maybe it's possible.

“No, but that was so legendary, she was so sure he knew her, but oh well, couldn't they just talk it out, is it that difficult to communicate?” Y/N said as she laughed at the absurdity of a couple she watched in a drama. How difficult can it be to communicate? Huh? She thought.

Taehyun laughed at her dramatic expressions, then replied, “Well, maybe, when the situation comes it really might be difficult to let things out, isn't it?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders with a little unsure ”Maybe”.

Taehyun continued, as he said, “Look at me now, I am gonna tell you something funny which happened yesterday!”

Y/N wanted to blurt out “I am always looking at you, Taehyun.” but she knew better, and it was too soon.

“So, I was at the convenience store yesterday night but I forgot to take my glasses with me then..”

As Taehyun was telling a funny anecdote of him, Y/N, as much as she wanted to listen to him, she couldn't help but admire his face. It was too perfect, it was like a doll’s face, it was so, sculpted… she should have choosen arts major, then she would have sculpted him for her assignment.

If Taehyun was her major in the university, she would have been a valedictorian by now. That's how much she knew him. That's how much she thought she knew him.

As the couple (of friends) were sitting around chatting, a girl walked by, she was a new girl, but Y/N definitely hadn't seen her that much. She shrugged and faced Taehyun, who, for the first time in a while, had a different sparkle in his eyes, his mouth was slightly agape, his head followed her steps till she disappeared in the crowd.

“what…” Y/N muttered under her breathe looking at Taehyun who seemed to be under a daze. She snapped her fingers in front of him, making him come back to reality as he looked at her, with eyes best described as caught-red-handed.

“What was that Taehyun?” Y/N asked.

“Eo? Nothing, it's nothing” he replied shaking his head,

Insecurity was making its way into Y/N's mind. She had to admit, the girl, she was beautiful, like the beauty you imagine when you think of beautiful. She could understand Taehyun’s reaction but not justify it.

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

“Y/N!!” Taehyun shouted as he was running behind Y/N trying to catch-up with her. He needed to tell her something.

Y/N looked back, she saw Taehyun running, he looked like a kid who just discovered his most favourite thing in the world and wanted to tell his mom, Y/N chuckled to the thought.

“What happened Taehyun?”

“Umm, you know the new girl? Lily?”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest, she didn't want to talk about this, she didn't want to be confirmed on what she thought already.

“Yes, yes obviously. Everyone knows her.” She said with a hint of harshness but Taehyun was too happy to notice it.

“You know, I think I like her, I really do. She is so pretty and she is so helpful to everyone, she is so sweet as well. I like her, Y/N.” Taehyun said, anyone with eyes could see how much in love he was, the love both of them hadn't experienced until a few months ago, now were experiencing that, just to different people, in the worst way possible.

“Oh you do, well that's understandable, she is….good..she is fine Taehyun, she is.” Y/N said as she bit her lip, tears were pricking her eyes. She knew Taehyun, didn't she? She thought she knew Taehyun, she thought-

Frankly, Lily was a good person, she was pretty but more than that, incredibly helpful and patient, she was a sweetheart, she was a sight for sore eyes. Whereas, Taehyun was an intelligent guy with a face for the world to see, he was smart and perspective, while being helpful and a good person. Tch, they are really a good pair huh? What was till now plain sadness for Y/N was laced with jealousy now, she couldn't help it. She hated it.

Eventually after some days, being the go-getter he is. Taehyun confessed his feelings to Lily, which she happily accepted. Apparently, she was as infatuated by him as he was with her.

She remembers the evening they met, her and Taehyun and how excited he was to finally get a girlfriend he had been crushing on for about two months:

“Y/N, I have got a girlfriend!!!” Taehyun giggled, shaking his hands with a little fist moment he does whenever excited.

“Yes, yes you did.” Y/N forced a smile, was there any other choice? Taehyun was sensitive to her words. She couldn't bring him down just because she felt like that.

“Let's all meet together sometime Y/N, you are gonna like her!”

“Yup, we should do that.”

Now that she thinks about it, how did she endure those two months, her tolerance might be higher than she thought, she might be stronger than she thought. Listening to Taehyun ramble about her, while keeping her, unfortunately, growing feelings in a dungeon was a terrible feeling.

One day, as Y/N was passing down the hallway, she saw them. Taehyun and Lily were there, kissing each other, softly and tenderly as if the other would break even with the slightest mishandling. She was already close to her breaking point when she noticed the sweater Lily was wearing, it was the one that Taehyun had swore to not give to anyone. Oh, so Lily is the one.

Finally, at the end of the semester, Y/N confronted Taehyun about everything she was holding back, determined to let everything out.

“Taehyun, I need to tell you something. We need to talk about it.”

Taehyun who was happily texting Lily asked, “Oh, about what?”

“Maybe if you put your phone down then we can actually talk.” Y/N remarked, rather roughly.

Taehyun looked at her for her harsh remark and nodded, putting his phone down.

“What is it Y/N?”

“Taehyun, I can't continue this. I can't continue this unstable mess our so called friendship has become.”

“Unstable?”

“When was the last time you remember we hung out together?”

Taehyun was silent, it was true. They hadn't hung out together in months since he and Lily got together.

“When was the last time we actually had a conversation of which Lily wasn't part of? I know she is great and good and all, but still Taehyun? Were you just looking for a replacement with me?”

“Y/N NO you are thinking it the wrong way, it's not like that. I was busy, yes. But you are NOT a replacement to me.”

“HOW TAEHYUN? I know you are now in a relationship and all but…but..” Y/N hiccuped as she started sobbing quietly.

Taehyun, initially flinching at her scream, went near her to comfort her. But she scooted away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Don't…tae….I liked you…I like you.”

“Huh?”

“I LIKE YOU TAEHYUN!” Y/N shouted as she was crying, she had to say it and the emotional intensity of it all didn't help either.

“Y/N..I…we..are just..Y/N I love Lily, I love you too, but as a friend, nothing else, nothing more.” Taehyun stated the hard truth firmly but softly for Y/N to digest.

“Can't she just die? Can't Lily just die?” Y/N’s deep thoughts came to the surface of her mind. When she realised what shevhad just thought, she had to collect herself and take a decision, which will feel bad but will be good for them for a long time.

“Taehyun, let's stop it. Let's not be friends anymore. Okay? I really want to recover from all of this, as soon as possible, and I need to do that without you. So, Taehyun, Bye.

“I understand Y/N, just…take care.”

Y/N nodded and got up, walking away from the love of her life who was already someone's love.

Taehyun watched her best friend's back as she disappeared in the crowd. He wanted to cry but his eyes were dry. He wanted to go back to Lily now.

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

Mentions: @tyunderella (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠) lmk if you want me to add you too!!

[fun-sized-owl]

The Devil and the Servant

Part LIII – Secrets

Warning: adult themes, sexual themes

    Haarlep had returned to the Material Plane without informing Raphael that he had ever met, personally, with Elspeth, and forced her to tell her secrets. What the devil did not know could not hurt him, and quite frankly, it had been easier that Raphael had found out the truth of his origins via Mephistopheles. The family was all coming together now, wasn't it? Haarlep was ever-so-thankful that his creation was so much simpler. Humans... Humans and their feelings and everything else that came with it. Honestly, it sounded awfully dreadful, and the incubus was more than pleased to use his wits against their emotional weaknesses. Such pleasures from an outside perspective, of course.     That brought him back to his little group of companions. Sornin was a rough, blunt sort, filled with shame and anger. Astarion was little different, though hid it behind a sharp smile. Halsin was a softer sort, all mother hen and protective father. Mol... however... was a little brat.     They'd made it back to Baldur's Gate, and after Astarion was able to have a little feed on someone Haarlep had seduced, the vampire was in a much more pleasant mood. Perhaps it was that and the fact that they were in the cover of night, allowing the creature to have his full powers at hand.     The Guild was full of dangerous and nasty looking people that hadn't taken baths in what seemed like weeks. Honestly... Haarlep's nose was on fire. But Mol? He'd known about her briefly from Raphael, though he did not know all of the details. Mol was just a little tiefling child that had a bad attitude. Naturally... Haarlep took an immediate shining to her.     She didn't seem too pleased to see Sornin and the others either. But there was a third person, a stranger with them today, Haarlep wearing a different guise.

    "And who you got there? Some new one with you? What are they gunna do?" Mol looked the tiefling up and down. At least they were a tiefling. She liked tieflings. They reminded her of herself, of course. It had been ages since she'd seen those that had ventured into the Grove so long ago. She supposed she liked Halsin... he was nice enough, had gentle eyes, too, and he had fixed the Grove and welcomed the tieflings until that bitch, Kagha, had tried to get them all killed.     In the last few months, Mol had grown taller, but they still all overtowered her. That didn't matter. It wasn't about how tall she was, it was all about presence, all about how she stood, and she folded her arms and looked up at the stranger, waving her hand in front of her face.     "You got a weird stink about you, tiefling. I can smell you all the way from here. Little bit of sulphur , too. You from the Hells or something? Used to know a devil from there. Then someone went and killed 'im." Her eyes shot to Sornin, a frown at her lips.

    Haarlep smiled. She was too young to understand what the smell of incubus pheromones was like, and what they meant. Their purpose. Once she had struck puberty, and was a little flower to pluck, she would understand, and then Haarlep would become completely irresistible to her. Until then, his pheromones would smell more musky and potent in a different way.     "Mmm... I do detest children..." he muttered. "As did a familiar devil you once knew."

    Mol's face scrunched. "You think you're bein' clever. I'm no kid. Not anymore." She threw her thumb to her chest. "Soon enough, every one here'll be answering to me. You'll see!" The blind ignorance of a child consumed her and only fuelled her ambitions.

    Sornin doubted that. As crafty as she was, she was just as shortsighted as Raphael was when it came to this whole idea about ruling. No wonder he'd taken a liking to the young tiefling. Still, she was a tough kid, and someone like her was a survivor. He'd seen it amongst his own people. Weak children did not survive the Underdark, especially Menzoberranzan. Mol might have had a chance, and that was saying something. He'd at least give her that.     "We need the hammer you took off a farmer a few weeks back."

    Mol raised a brow. "You'll have to be a bit more specific than that, muscles. I got a lotta stuff." She knew exactly what they were talking about, of course.

    Astarion frowned. Being nice wasn't going to get them anywhere, so Halsin was definitely out of his depth here—the one that usually took control of delicate situations. No, what Mol needed was a right slap around the ear.     "I'm pretty sure you'll give it to us willingly when you hear why we need it." He gestured to Haarlep. "Go on, dear, why don't you show the little imp who we're working for."

    "With pleasure." Haarlep waved his hand, and instead of being in Raphael's youthful visage, he turned to the cambion in his rightful age, a smile at his lips. "You remember me, Mol, don't you?"

    Mol's eyes widened. "Raph!" She took a step forward, but then hesitated, looking around the room. "Hang on a minute... you said Raphael was dead. You said you killed him." She folded her arms against her chest again. "I'm not fallin' for this! Whatever this is, you're not Raphael." Her expression hardened as she looked at the stranger who wore Raphael's face.

    "Ahh, an intelligent little tiefling," Haarlep chuckled, and with a wave, he went back to the usual face he wore of Raphael's. "I am Haarlep, Raphael's personal incubus."

    Mol's face turned to one of disgust. "Ew... I don't wanna know that." She was young, but she'd lived a rough enough life on the streets and knew all about people sharing beds and getting weird with each other. Naked and kissing, and that's what incubi did. Gross to think about Raphael like that. He was supposed to be her patron, and someone she looked up to, not that!     She studied the incubus, his face younger now. Was that what Raphael looked like before he got all old looking? Or maybe he just played pretend? Either way, they'd still killed Raphael, and she wasn't going to forgive them any time soon over that.     "So you got a pretty face. What's this got to do with anything? You killed Raph, remember? Don't think I'm still not angry about that. He was gunna be my patron. He was gunna look after me and give me power!"

    "And he still can, my dear," Haarlep purred.

    "No." Halsin put his hand out. "Mol was not part of the deal. She will not be taken back to him."

    Haarlep laughed. "And you can stop her? This isn't Raphael's choice, bear... this is Mol's." He looked back down to the little tiefling, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "He will give you powers you couldn't possibly deny, my sweet."

    Mol's eyes brightened, but she waved her hand. "Can't see how he's gonna do that from the grave and all."

    Halsin sighed. He knew that he could not stop Mol from making her choices, and she was an ambitious girl, but the idea of Raphael getting his hands on her did not sit well with him. She needed guidance. She had lived a rough life, and if she'd remained in the Grove, perhaps she would have softened... He didn't know. But Haarlep was also right. He couldn't stop her. Not entirely.     "Haarlep, please. We came for the Orphic Hammer, nothing more." He looked back to Mol. "We require it. Please, we are friends, Mol. We are not here to cause trouble or hurt you. I am thankful that Raphael gave you back your eye and saved you where we could not when you were taken, but the devil is not someone you should make deals with. There are sacrifices that he will have you make. Consequences, grave ones."

    Mol snorted. "Like you're any better," she snapped back. "When you disappeared, we were all kicked out."

    Halsin's brows arched. He knew that he had failed them, but he had been a prisoner at the same time. "Forgive me for my absence, Mol... If I had known Kagha was so cruel to you, I would have fought tooth and claw through those goblins to get back to you."

    Sornin frowned, a pang of anger spreading inside him. "You cannot blame Halsin for being a prisoner. If it weren't for us rescuing him, then Kagha may have also killed you and your little friends."

    Mol poked her tongue out and blew air from her lips. "Whatever, greyskin."

    Haarlep laughed, but he could tell that the rest of the group did not find any of this amusing, not even Astarion, who looked like he wanted to knock the ungrateful tiefling down a notch.     With tail flicking, he breathed a pleased sigh. "Oh, my darlings... you go about this all the wrong way. You undermine Mol," he teased, knowing very well that he was dealing with a mini Raphael. If he stroked her ego, he would get exactly what he wanted.     "You look down at her because she is but a child, but this child has made it here, all the way from your little Grove. She has looted gold from pockets far heavier than yours, and far more armoured. She is ambitious and that ambition drives her."     L owering his hand , he cupped Mol's jaw and looked down at her. "They insult your intelligence because you are younger than them, but I have seen devils half your age win battles against enemies twice their size. They go through pains and torments as they are promoted to even more powerful fiends. You... my dear... are made of such stuff."

    Mol grinned, looking at the younger version of Raphael and then back to Sornin. "See, this guy knows how to talk to a girl."

    Astarion scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me..." he muttered. "Dear, if you were any older, I dare say that this creature would eat your soul and--"

    "Please, she does not need to hear," Halsin interrupted. It was true, though. Did an incubus still eat the souls of a child? Or did they wait until they had experienced their first moon blood? He didn't want to know...

    Haarlep tutted, his tail swaying as he circled Mol. "You should know that these mortals have yet to tell you the real reason why they need my master's hammer. You see, after they had so selfishly killed Raphael and raided his archives, your dear future patron did not truly die." Well, he did, but she didn't need to know the full details.     "Raphael's father, his very... powerful father," he teased, "returned his soul to his body. But in doing so, my pet has been imprisoned within his home realm. So you see, we dearly need that hammer back, to break him out, so he can be free, so he can be your patron, Mol, and give you powers only you could dream of without his assistance."

(( KEEP READING ON AO3 ))

[writerformanymuses]

New Chapter Update... Dessert Piece Edition

Chapter 2: I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted, And You're Not Wasting Time Stuck Here Like Me

Summary:

The Gang evaluates the best path forward after Tav is nearly mortally wounded, and Tav tries to explain the hardships she's lived inside her own head.

EXCERPT:

“You should have come to us,” Gale mutters eventually, breaking the suffocating tension. Her brow knits, and she glances over to him. Uncomfortable, unsettled. His half-pulled-back hair is a bit more wily and curls around his face. His chestnut eyes keep from her, but they do make a quick glance at Shadowheart on Tav’s other side. “You should have told us. As if there is anything in this world or any other that would stop us from trying to spare you from this.”  The lull in the tone, the falling of his usual charm and confidence. Hurt. It’s hurt. Oh, she’s truly upset him.  “I didn’t think--” She starts, but Shadowheart turns to face her. “No, you thought far too much, per usual,” The cleric scolds. Tav’s heart leaps into her throat. Swallowing back the wave of emotion, she manages a nod. What else is she to say? She can’t make them understand. She can’t have them crawl into her head like they used to be able to. They’ve been cut off from absolute empathy, and now trust is the only thing they have to work off of. Well, trust and honest communication.  “Honestly, Tav, do you have any idea how devastated we’d be if anything happened to you?” Shadowheart continues, “You aren’t just our former companion, you’re our friend! You practically saved all of our lives! How could we ever not try to save you in turn?!” “You’re busy people,” Tav tries, and Gale scoffs before standing himself. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he looks down at her. “Busy people who write to you every week? Busy people who inquire after your health, offer you to stay in our homes, and try, very hard, mind you, to be patient and understanding when you refuse us at every turn?” It’s through tighter lips and a strained tone this time. “I’m a lot of things, but a poor friend is not one of them. You’ve insulted us both with saying that, I do hope you realize it.” 

[fireflylitsky]

ZABUSAKU NOT DEAD YET PLEASEE

This is just me on my "Sakrua should have Kubikiribocho" bullshit 😂

Sakura wasn’t sure what a normal girl got for her eighteenth birthday, but she was positive it wasn’t this. Her sensei rubbed at the back of his neck when he presented it to her, smiling through his uncertainty. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, gesturing to the unwieldy blade.

No kidding.

But she smiled all the same and thanked him as she accepted Kubikiribocho. The Executioner's blade. Zabuza’s sword. 

“Thought it might bring back some memories,” Kakashi said. He wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t fault him there.

It seemed so big when she was small. She thought for sure now that she’d grown, its grandeur would have diminished, but no. Somehow it only seemed bigger now in her clutch. 

Kakashi-sensei justified the gift further, stating she was the only one he could think of that would do it justice. So that was just great. Now she had to.

The first time Sakura heard it, it scared her.

“More…”

At the draw of blood—a kill—a voice scratched at the back of her skull. Deep and coarse. It put a dryness in her throat. Made her thirst, though not in any unpleasant way. Made her think that maybe more might be good, yes.

Needless to say, she decided to keep this to herself.

“More.” That was all it said for the longest time. She grew so used to it that it honestly became easy to ignore. Her blade carved through flesh, and with it came that hunger. That urging insistence. Sometimes it even sounded like praise.

It wasn’t until a particularly brutal battle, during which Sakura struggled to gain the upper hand, that the sword developed a vocabulary—a rude one. “Behind,” it warned with a growl, tacking on a muttered, “idiotic girl…”

Sakura narrowly dodged the attack because of that warning, leaving her free to balk at the absolute audacity of her sword. “Excuse me?!” 

It was on that day Sakura came to find out that some souls do not pass on to the afterlife. Some will cling to whatever they can and refuse death. Attach themselves to a vessel and live on inside it.

Kubrikiribocho just happened to be such a vessel, and Zabuza Momochi was anything but dead.

SO basically this becomes the story of Sakura and the soul of Zabuza bonding VERY SLOWLY over the course of many years. At first he's miffed when this stupid pink-haired girl becomes his wielder because ugh, she's not going to help his cause at all. (He believes that if he is able to absorb enough blood--enough life--through the blade, he can use it as a conduit to come back. After all, this blade's ability is to regenerate that which has already been destroyed)

But over time she piques his interest. He sees her potential. That feral streak in her. Maybe she can be useful to him. So he starts becoming more talkative (even if he is rude) and starts to guide her and work with her in battle.

They have lots of little quiet moments other people wouldn't understand (very underdeveloped snippet incoming):

Her body hurts. Her heart hurts. She feels it all welling up inside her and knows she’ll cry herself to sleep tonight in this ramshackle hut—alone, but not. Kubikiribocho lies in bed beside her. She sidles up against it and lays a hand on the oddly warm blade.

Zabuza’s silent, but she knows he can feel what she’s feeling. They’re too intertwined now. “I’m so sorry…” she eventually says. “This is unbecoming of me. Of a kunoichi. I just… didn’t want to be alone. Not after…” she chokes off, unable to put it in words yet.

“…Not like I’m going anywhere.” His voice sounds in her head, dismissive in a strangely comforting way.

“True… sorry about that, too.”

Silence spans between them and if a sentient sword could sigh, well, it sounds like that.

“Hey, Zabuza…?” she murmurs after a while, barely audible as she trails her fingers along the smooth steel of the blade, absently tracing lines down the edge.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to fix you,” she says, determined. “I’m going to bring you back no matter what. I’ll find a way. I promise.”

“Tch… yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“I won’t be useless. Not to you, too.”

There’s another stretch of silence before she hears him speak again. “Did someone tell you that? You’re useless?”

“Not… in those words exactly,” she says. “But I know that it’s true. Especially after today.”