#i wish i could have friends and work at the same time

[cute-little-fly]

Fuck, I relate so much to this it hurts, but seeing other people have this same experiences makes me feel not so alone on this. I realized I have never told my story so I will use this post to do it.

This is how I felt most of my school and high school years, except for a few friends that I managed to do until sixth grade of school and high school. So, in my case I have had friends, I have known what reciprocated friendship is like and that helped me so much. But I have also felt that sensation of being apart from everyone else by an invisible veil. Is very sad. I would really wish that we could be able to have better education as a society.

Even with all its problems for me school was better than high school. I managed to drag some people on my special interests like ants and insects. We fed them in school and got in trouble. I also managed to make everyone in school have a tamagotchi because I was obsessed with them. They sold them very cheap in the corner store near school. But I had to suffer so much before that, and even after that I struggled to maintain and have friends and still I felt appart sometimes. A lot of students came to my school only one year because their school flooded, then, they went away and I was alone again.

I remember I had this one friend in kinder garden whom I clung as if my life depended on it. Then, on first grade she told me she wanted to have more friends, to go and run and play and that basically she probably didn’t enjoy to spend time with me. I let her go, because she wasn’t forced to be with me all the time and I didn’t played like the other kids and I understood that. But I felt so broken. Even after that I expected that one day she would come back and I tried to. I had some friends during that time, short lived, only one was very close that was the queer guy everyone else bullied. I pretended to be his “girlfriend” sometimes, but we were really friends. Then he was put in other section so we could barely see each other and we started to have other friends, but still we kept in some touch and I didn’t felt the same trauma and rejection than with my other friend.

Then, in sixth grade of school I found my real and first girls friend group, they were all new girls that came from other schools for different life situations. They were trying to make me forget about thar friend (we never kept contact but for years, I still tried to befriend her again and again) until that moment I knew that she didn’t deserved me. My self steem was so low and I still clung to her so badly even if she barely talked to me, and I didn’t cared that she didn’t cared how I felt. My new friends made me see that, so I ended being loyal to them because they were the ones that actually cared for me and accepted me completely. They were the ones that supported me with my ants and tamagotchi. I think that was the best year of my childhood.

High school was ok I guess. At least I knew by that time that trying to be someone I wasn’t was not going to work, and that I could wait until I found my people. So I went alone to the high school library every day to read and play board games alone. I had some friend groups before them but didn’t worked, and they told me that I couldn’t hang up with them anymore. Just because I didn’t wanted to do some performance in class. Then, I met my new friends group there, in the next year, at the library. They were from another year, so I could only see them in breaks and after classes. But, it was ok, better than being alone 100% of the time.

I don’t use this blog for much personal stuff, but here I talk about autism sometimes so I figured that from my other blogs here is where it fits most :).

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

[running-with-kn1ves]

Your Private Dancer

A/N: Everybody say thank you Tina Turner; man I really am just a mixture of everything I’ve seen and heard. 

CW: Dancing for money, sex work/ prostitution mentioned, using money as manipulation, Reader wears makeup n' heels lmao

Synopsis: You work at the downtown peep show dancing for quarters, trying to get out of the rough patch you’ve fallen into. Seemingly, a man out of your usual customer regulars has business with you.

Tonight, a habitual fear bobbed its way inside your head, just as it had the night before. The idea of your boss’s beige, neatly ironed trousers becoming ever-so visible from under the slowly rising black curtains was making an appearance, his aged face slick with sweat, with desire behind the see-through plastic shield.

Again, the same scene but with a distant friend on the other side of the decaying plastic that separated you from your… clients. They’d be popping in the coins you worked for-- mere quarters, often giving you barely enough to buy a drink for the night.

This line of work could be greedy, could sap all energy and self-worth you had-- but for some, it had led to better lives; ones where they could purchase groceries for their kids or nice handbags if they decided to skimp out on dinner that week. 

Never you, though. How long has it been since you started working at the peep show, two months? You barely made enough to cover rent, and that was primarily paid for by your office job handling phones and directing clients to your bulging boss’s office. 

Taking a swig of some bottom shelf vodka you so sneakily hid into a mug, you drank the thoughts away, waiting patiently for the electric blue lights to come on. If you had any less self respect, you’d dare to sit on the yellow tile beneath your studded heels, legs aching from standing ten til’ two waiting for some man or another off the street to feed your coin box something of substance. You prayed for whoever came next-- if anyone-- they wouldn’t try to shove another piece of gum or arcade coin in as a cheap ploy. You thought they did it more to fuck with you and get a free show than a true lack of being able to pay for their lust. 

On the brink of lighting an unused cigarette left next to your mug, the lights of your five-by-five room soon became illuminated by the cobalt blue lights of the client room across from you. Velvet curtains rose to show a pair of black slacks, left knee impatiently bouncing. The blue never bathed the entirety of your small room; it was just an illusion for the paying customer, making everything in front of them turn an electric shade that used to burn your eyes; now, you wished you were doused in that blue, instead of witnessing the yellow stains on the walls beside the see-through window, the dirty circles formed on the green walls from put-out cigarette butts. 

The curtains rose to his neck, and you knew it was time to start dancing. You were by no means a professional-- hell, you never moved this much unless it was in this room. But you were pretty good at making yourself consumable, as if the men on the other side could have you-- could taste the way your hips gyrated and how you grabbed at your chest, stroking and fondling yourself in a desperate attempt to keep the money coming. For some of those who worked the peep show, it was liberating; no man could touch them, and they could rake in all the money they’d need. For you-- it was just a step above demeaning yourself to being touched.

You started slow-- sensual. He was looking at you, of course-- but he hadn’t even gotten his pants down yet. You rarely get these kinds of men, the ones who just liked to stare, maybe smoke a cigarette and put the rest of their quarters in their pockets to leave with a frown of boredom.

You let your hands rise from your hips, gracefully dancing up your stomach, to your chest. You circle around your shapes of hard and soft, letting each curve flow beneath your fingers as if it were his hands touching you. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, watching him from the corner of your blurry eyes as he brought a hand to his mouth. He stroked his jaw before bringing the cigarette between his fingers to his lips. He scrutinized, a small line creasing under his eye as his gaze traveled the intimate way you swayed your hips. 

He occasionally took a drink from an engraved scotch glass saved for VIP members, those who made monthly payments in cash that the owner hoarded in his liquor cabinet. Not many paid such a hefty price unless they routinely took clients or coworkers here-- and even then, the existence of powerful businessmen in such a grimy part of the city like this, with a less than clean business-- was so rare you were suspicious. 

But your suspicions were buried as soon as he left your dancing cell, your mind quick to focus on electric bills and the next few nights of eating dry pasta and watching bad reality TV, slaving away at the office and more early mornings at the peep show. It almost didn’t surprise you to see him at your dance room again a few days later-- until he started showing up multiple times a week. Like clockwork at 11:02, he was sitting across from you with a cigarette or an indulgent glass. Sometimes, he’d merely watch. You had a few regulars, but none like him… not ‘this’ regular.

Even with keeping your eyes glued on your own reflection, you’d catch the dark blacks of his own trained on you, his face bathed in blue and zoned in on your expression. He never unbuttoned his pants, never lingered his eyes on one area for too long, even if he scanned you up and down with a sultriness.

You couldn’t deny that you felt like you needed to impress him, to make him react or find a reason to keep seeing you; he was allowing you to afford paying rent, putting coins in to last for a 30-minute session before he’d disappear into the night. But you never spoke to him, never had any kind of interaction besides that unspoken ritual. 

Another month at the peep show passed, and you found yourself fixing up your makeup in the vanity, trying desperately to get a thick layer of eyeliner right. A thick knock rapped against the dressing room door, a foreign sound; none of the workers knocked, finding no reason to. Your boss stuck his head through the gap, his receding hairline shiny and his thin silver chain looking  dull from the overhead light. For such a sleaze, he was kinder than most when it came to treating his employees fairly. Maybe because he was keen on avoiding complaints and federal eyes. 

“Got a visitor for ya.” He chewed a thick wad of gum, talking in a voice lower than you had ever heard him speak in. “This one’s a big fish, alright? Don’t do anything to piss him off-- he’s the reason you’re getting such a good payout tonight.”

Payout? You didn’t get paid in anything other than quarters once the night ended, unless someone was looking for further services of which you were not interested in providing. 

Your boss leaves the door open a crack, his mumbles traveling in as he spoke to someone outside. The door was knocked on again, but no one came in.

“It’s open.” You say, a little thrown off by the way your voice cracks a pitch higher. 

The door opens fully, closing behind the stranger as he moves forward. You look in the mirror to see him, but are forced to turn around to believe your eyes. 

“It’s you.” 

You look at him-- nice suit, pressed and finely tailored, with even a small handkerchief in its breast pocket.

His hair isn't dark like you had imagined under the blue light, but rather a gold brown, deep and cool-toned. For being so young, he had deep creases below his eyes, as if he had been worried since birth.

“I’ve paid for your shift tonight. “ He stares at you, direct but with some underlying, concerned thought. “Your manager says there’s a room upstairs, where we can be alone-- privately.”

You’re disgusted by the mention of anything above the underground cells you’ve danced in, recalling the thin walls of faked moans and foul dialogue you’d tried to avoid. 

“I’m not a prostitute,” You say brusquely, watching the stoicism on his expression falter. “You can have your money back, I don’t want it if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I’m not.” He says, sounding a bit off guard and adjusting his tie almost habitually. “I want.. To talk, If you can believe that,” His hard gaze shifts to minute worry, as if this wasn’t how he expected it to go. “This isn’t… I want to help.”

You’re more so puzzled than offended now, staring at the pool of his ink-like eyes, no traceable ounce of debauchery behind them. If you said no, it almost seems like he wouldn’t care less, besides for another crease layered under his eye. 

“What for?” You question, guarded and fiddling with your absurdly short low-rise shorts; the discomfort was part of the appeal, supposedly. 

“I have a proposition for you-- a deal. You don’t have to accept it, of course. Just listen to what I have to say.” 

He lifts his eyebrows, trying to gauge your reaction, your potential interest. You continue to squint at him, realizing now you were near past the start of your shift; You were losing money as you sat here. 

“Maybe this will convince you; I already let your manager know not to bother us.”

 Like a true businessman, he rummages through the inner pockets of his suit in an attempt to find something hidden. Finally reaching into the left side he pulls out a thin, blank envelope. 

With two hands, he brings the envelope towards you with unnecessary formality, and you waste no time taking it. Besides overdue bills and unpaid bank statements, you rarely opened any other kind of unmarked envelope.

It wasn’t even closed when you tried to open it, the top un-licked and sticky. You looked inside, not needing to take out the content to understand what was in it. Several fifties were lined against each other, scarce in their numbers but large in what they equaled together. 

“What… is this for?” The shock you gave with your agape mouth almost made him grin a bit, fascinated. He rarely felt pleasure in the wide-eyed stare his clients would give him at the same sight, but you weren’t them. Oh no, you were far from them. 

“Just a talk. I can pay you more afterwards.”

Your gut senses danger-- perhaps he took pleasure in luring unsuspecting victims from low places with money, killing them for sport. But, he looked too clean-- too unmotivated.

You should say no, should turn away and finish putting on your makeup and tell him you aren’t looking for a pimp. 

You pocket the money, crumpling the envelope and putting it on your vanity. 

“I don’t do anything under the clothes; I can give you a lap dance at most and that’s it.”

You lead the man out of the dressing room, not bothering to close the door. 

He leads the way upstairs, watching the grimy pictures decorating the walls with feigned interest, some in black and white, others grainy and full of half-naked women. You kind of wish you had led the way now; atleast then you wouldn’t feel like you’re following an omen to your doom, farther deep into the velvet hallway.

“My name is Dakota.” He utters, quiet and firm. 

You brush past him, getting in front to open the door at the beginning of the hall. “What, no last name?”

 You still wonder if you should turn back, even if it means losing your job. But you persevere, holding a dramatic hand towards the now opened room as if you were a doorman.

“I imagine you aren’t interested in my last name,” He stops to take a short view of the client room before settling his eyes back on you. “And regardless, I’d much rather know yours.”

You open your mouth to speak, but are quick to be cut off as he walks past you into the creaky, red-pink room.

“I know you won’t tell me, a part of the show-room code, or so I’m told. but it doesn’t matter; I already know.” 

He reads your mind again as you barely get a moment to protest.

“I’m accustomed to going through unnatural ways to find the information that I need, but don’t bother asking for why or how, I won’t tell you.”

Your body tenses as you shut the door behind you, the red lowlights of the bedroom making your heart pound just a little louder.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want to know-- it's my privacy damn it,” You’ve forfeited any sexy walking as you come closer. “If you’re some kind of creepy stalker--”

“I guess I could be labeled as that.” Dakota slumps to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the dipping mattress. He almost relaxes, shoulders drooping along with his eyes, uncharacteristically so.

“I’ve come here to offer you a chance for safety,” He loosens his tie, watching as you stand there, tensing your back and one step directed toward the door. 

Dakota wasn’t blind to your hesitation, your unease. But you were wrong to think he’d let you go just because of a little fear; you had a lot to learn about him.

You watch him look at you, waiting expectantly for him to go on. But he doesn’t and you realize he’s waiting for you to start-- to do something of which he paid copious amounts of cash for. So, you do what you do best, and what you feel safest doing, where no man can touch or stroke you.

It’s not as extravagant of a dance as when you’re in the coin-operated cell, but it's intimate enough. 

You keep your eyes to the floor, only looking up at Dakota to egg him on, letting your feet drift you in a rhythm. He looks entranced for a moment, offering a stare that was far from innocent-- but not as hungrily disturbing as you had expected. 

“Your co-workers won’t be given the same option, this is an opportunity directed at and intended only for you.” You come closer, small struts as Dakota completely unties his tie. “I’ve got a variety of apartments across the city, most of which are rented out or used as a small place to come back to when I've got business farther out. And no-- I won’t tell you what kind of business I do.” 

You almost grunt in frustration, keeping your eyes on him. 

You’re nearly toe to toe with him now, watching from above as he puts his hands back on the bed. 

“One of these apartments is not too far from here,” He squints his eyes, deliberating. “A few blocks away, I'd say.” 

Your hands slow as you drop them to the front of your hips, Dakota’s eyes following them. 

“It can be yours. If you’d like.” 

“What?”

You stop, dropping your arms and watching the pink glow from under the bed cast a shadow up to Dakota’s cheeks.

“Some people call this kind of an arrangement “sugar babying” but that’s a bit too crude for my tastes.” His eyes are still traveling from your wrist to your forearm. “You’ll be on an allowance, of course. But it means you won’t have to work here anymore.”

The way he said ‘here’, it was clear what he thought of it.

“You can quit that desk job too; or keep it, if you want. But I can’t imagine it being much fun. Either way, you won’t be working here anymore. Not with the kind of men who are looking at you while I’m away.”  

Dakota’s gaze finally met your own, his tired hand coming up to stroke his curved jaw. 

“You’re not actually being serious, are you? This is some kind of sick joke?” You let out a short laugh, lacking in humor. 

Even with him dressed to the nines in a suit that no creature who stepped foot in this place could afford, you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe it. You shake your head in ridiculousness, taking a step back.

“Sorry, I have other customers to attend to; I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.” 

You turn to walk away, feeling less safe than you ever had; if he was delusional, or some kind of sick sadist who thought he could buy your life-- he had another thing coming.

“Hold on,” Dakota grabs at your fingers, almost desperate in his grasp. His eyes were void of anything other than concern. “I’ve booked you for the whole night, I don’t recall asking for you to leave.”

Booked? You were under the impression you just received a little extra bonus from this stranger. Just how much were your manager’s morals worth? Did he care AT ALL what he might’ve ‘sold’ you for?

Dakota held on, even with you hesitantly shuffling back to where you stood. 

“You don’t have to accept what I’m offering-- just consider it,” He stays seated, bringing your hand palm-up towards him. “Though, I’ve been told I'm quite persuasive.”

“Look man, whatever you’re selling, I'm not buying. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly content with my job, and I’m not looking for some kind of ‘savior’ if that’s what you’re trying to be.”

You could feel your own lie cutting deep into you, and by the looks of it Dakota didn’t believe it either. He looked at you, a kind of benign glare leaving from his oaky eyes. 

“Call me by my name.” He says, barely above a whisper.

“...Huh?” 

“I’m not just some ‘man’. Call me by my name.”

Dakota ran his thumb down your palm to your middle finger, keeping your hand hostage between both of his own. He looked to you, then back down to his grasped treasure. He looked like he didn’t really know what to do with it, but that it was something intimate he didn’t want to let go of. 

“Wha--okay fine. Dakota. This isn’t some kind of game,” The name felt weird coming out of your mouth, but watching who it belonged to’s reaction was even stranger. 

He shivered. Physically shivered at the guttural hearing of his name, of the consonants and vowels sliding off your tongue. 

Dakota looked down, avoiding your gaze as he memorized each line and indent in your fingers. You wanted to pull your hand away, to recoil in disgust and fling him off like some kind of bug. But in a way, he looked small sitting there, head down and entranced at the details of your fingers, the ridges of your palms, the shaking pulling at his shoulders as he asked you to say his name again. 

“Dakota.” You mutter, wondering if this was some kind of kink.

With the way he stopped a groan midway from slipping, you were sure you weren’t too far off. But whatever he was into, now was not the time for discovery.

“This is, just ridiculous. Were you listening to me, at all?” You tilt your head, trying to catch his eyes to see if you could see what the hell he was so captivated by.

His thumb pressed hard against your palm, short nail digging just slightly to leave a crescent shape. 

Without the response, you were starting to get fed up. You pulled your hand away, sliding smoothly out of his warm, dry grasp. 

At this, his head shot up, watching you with a kind of look as if he had come from out of a panicked daze.

“I’ve wondered what my name would sound like from your mouth-- I could never hear anything from the other side of the glass.” 

“...Right.” You aren’t sure if you should still be worried, but his fascination with you made you feel a little concerned. 

Dakota propped himself up again, seemingly realizing his recent lack of finesse. 

“Take my business card.” He seemed to say all of a sudden, searching blindly in his inner-jacket pockets like he did to give you your payment for the night. He seemed a little scattered, padding up and down to look for his cards before finding one in his breast pocket. “Here.”

You grab it, finally getting an inkling of answers to who he was besides the money and his name. 

Unfortunately for you, the card didn’t offer much else from what you already knew. There was his name in ink-black font, ‘DAKOTA--VERIDIAN FIRMS’ and a small phone number, barely readable beneath. 

“That’s my personal number. Day or night, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll answer.” He looks at you with an inappropriate level of intensity.

“Okay.” 

“Now that that’s squared away--” He sighs, relaxing backwards again, watching you hold the business card. “We can return to business as usual;” He keeps his eyes on yours, displaying a kind of tension and expectation. “I believe you were dancing, and I was enjoying your company.” 

You can’t imagine spending the rest of your shift solely dancing for one man, in this dreary far-too cold room that had seen too much. You don’t move, not ready for the rest of tonight to continue.

Dakota brings out another small envelope, this time with ease. Looking at it expectantly, he then looks back to you. 

You began to move your shoulders to the rhythm of the thumping music from downstairs, using it as a way to distract your thoughts. Dakota puts the envelope on the bed, letting out a sigh as he voyeured in novelty, watching you gaze at the heart-shaped headboard behind him. 

You tried to keep your thoughts empty, but it was near impossible. How much could you be bought for, and how much more would it take for you to agree to be his? 

[taelortot]

Choso Smau Part 11

Pre relationship texts + immediately after texts

Not proofread :(

Total time knowing choso: 12 months

Thick air surrounds y/n, choking her— suffocating her lungs as she tries to even her breathing. She stares at her phone in her hands, rereading the text that stands out in bold black letters.

“I love you, bunny”

It’s almost as if she can hear him saying it with his low, warm voice. Choso voice was always the most satisfying to listen to. Velvety smooth, like a fresh pot of dark roast coffee first thing in the morning.

“Bunny I love you”

Oh, that was most definitely not y/ns imagination. Y/ns eyes snap up, hands shaking and chest heaving. Dropping her phone to her bed, she stands on unsteady legs, unsure if her best friend knows what those words mean. Unsure is Choso really understand what that will mean for them.

“Baby… please just open the door”

A faint squeak comes from y/ns lips, quickly being covered up with her hands. This isn’t real. It can’t be. In y/ns mind, she was hopelessly in love with her best friend, and he didn’t feel the same way. So she told him to go on a date, so maybe if he had another person to care for… she could move on. And he would never ever have to know.

But, of course not. Things never work out the way y/n wishes they would. Almost as if she has no control over the course her life will follow, just as she has no control over the way her feet move on their own. Closer and closer to the door that separates the two best friends.

“O-okay”

Voice trembling as she reaches out to unlock the deadbolt— a lock choso could have easily broken to get inside of he really wanted to.

“Choso” y/ns hand stills on the cool metal, resting her forehead against the wooden door frame. Choso rattles the door knob, hoping to push his way in. “Tell me you mean it” y/n begs, her voice desperate, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. So close to spilling over.

“I mean it, bunny. I fu-fuck I mean it baby… cmon baby. Open the door for me”

‘Baby’ y/n mouths, a small smile on her lips. Relishing in the way that one little word made her feel. Somehow the word making her melt from the inside out. An eruptions of butterflies swarming deep in her tummy, wanting to burst out of her chest. It was so out of character for Choso to say that word. She was always bunny.. and now she’s wondering what possessed him to call her that pretty name.

“Okay” y/n nods, unlocking the deadbolt. As soon as Choso hears the click, he’s pushing the door open, not meaning to use as much force as he had. Just feeling so desperate to see y/n, to explain to her these feelings he has.

“Bunny”

“Cho”

No more words. Just staring at each other in the barely lit room, as if time has stopped. Heart pounding so loud choso is sure y/n can hear it. Shit— he was sure she could see the way it was practically beating out of his chest, rattling around his rib cage as if it bursting out of his chest was the only way she’d believe his words.

Thud

Thud

Thud

“Cho-“ “shhh.. ju-just” the large man steps closer, closing the small gap between them. His callused hands reaching out, gently cupping y/ns face. Thumbs caressing her rose tinted cheeks with a tenderness neither knew he possessed.

Dark brown eyes searching, looking for any sign that she wants him to stop as he moves closer. Eyes darting between y/ns and her pretty lips. The lips he’s been dying to feel against his for over a month now. Y/ns eyes fluttering closed is enough of a sign for Choso to take. So he does.

It’s so pathetic— the noise that escapes chosos throat as he pushes his slightly chapped lips against y/ns perfectly smooth lips. Not caring that they taste a little salty from the popcorn she was eating just moments ago. Y/ns bottom lip slotted perfectly between both of his. One hand moving from her face to the back of her head, fingers carding through her soft hair—not leaving any room to move away. Never getting away from him, not after this.

The feeling is so hard to describe. Choso doesn’t understand how something so simple can feel so good and mean so much. Y/ns hands bunch up in Chosos white tee, pulling him closer. Needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to be as close as possible as their lips work together like they’re meant to be doing this.

So perfectly in sync, moving at a rhythm that was soft and sweet. Y/n so pliant in Chosos hands as he kicks the door closed with a slam, and nudging her back, deeper into the small room.

“Cho” y/n whimpers in her delicate voice that Choso loves so much, breaking the kiss, but not moving back. Pupils blown wide, breath heavy and the smallest smile gave it all away. Choso didn’t need to hear what y/n was going to say, he already knew just from the way she was looking at him. And he wasn’t so sure why it took him so long to realize that she always looked at him like this.

“I love you too Cho”

But it still felt good to hear out loud.

“Who told you to call me baby?” Y/n giggles as Choso tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear like this is some sort of romance movie.

“Gojo says that’s how he gets all the girls to fall for him”

Guess Gojo was right for once.

I am not a good writer.. but I’m trying :( I used to write a lot and was pretty decent, so im just getting back in the groove.

Yall! I got this emo boy to start calling me bunny and now I’m living my Wattpad fantasy lol

ALSO!!! I love to write psycho stalker obsessed type stuff.. so who do you think would be like that from jjk??? And I’ll write it :)

Taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @ersharyzst @koreluvsspring @gradmacoco @emlient @namjooningera

[toomanyfish2]

FAV BKDK FIC RECS

split into short, medium, and long fics. under the break.

short fics

You're Mine? - Chapter 1 - s_the_queen - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya endured a long and troubled road to get to where they are now. Maybe that's why they haven't noticed that they're dating even though everyone else has!'

Chapters: 7/24 | Words: 8,560

So, They're Dating, Right? - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

All the times everyone thought Katsuki and Izuku were dating, and the one time Katsuki realized he wished they were.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 5,022

Didn't I do it for you? - theburningbread - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Deku has never been close with members of the Bakusquad, despite the squad’s best efforts. They were getting there as Bakugou and Deku’s friendship grew… but that friendship has been over for years. Mina wants to understand why they never got to be as close as she knew they could have been, so she asks. But, since she wants her friends to know as well she secretly calls Bakugou so he can hear too.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 15,430 | Angst w/ happy ending

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing - Chapter 1 - maxisnotokay - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku has had this thing about him that Katsuki has never been able to name, but he's been chasing it since he learned how to run. It takes a catastrophic building collapse during their third year and a severe concussion for him to realize what it is. Aizawa loses ten years off his life. When does he not.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 11,549

warm hands - Chapter 1 - flowercafe - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

A 5+1 featuring copious amounts of massaging, a dollop of mutual pining, many ridiculous competitions, Izuku’s achy joints, and one very tactile Katsuki.

Chapters: 4/5 | Words: 20,005

glowing skins and pleading fingers - mimisyum - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

In which Katsuki spent fourteen years resisting the urge to touch Izuku until it all becomes too much and he gives in. But maybe, just maybe, things don't go quite as badly as he expects.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 10,600

and the rest is rust and stardust - youreanovelidea - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does. (or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 8,587 | Side Kaminari/Kirishima

medium fics

i accidentally texted king explosion murder - Chapter 1 - tsundokushi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku: Do you really think partnering with a copy of yourself will be good for the world? Vulgar Stranger: I. Don’t. Do. Partners. Izuku: Why thank you for sparing everyone the headache Vulgar Stranger: Since when are you fucking sassy Izuku: Wanna guess? Vulgar Stranger: Fuck u Izuku: :)

Chapters: 13/13 | Words: 64,439

An Extension Of Myself - Chapter 1 - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku got One for All but went to Shiketsu instead and ends up working at the same hero agency as one very confused, very turned-on Bakugou Katsuki.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 81,028

Dark Side of the Sun - Chapter 1 - Synnie - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Chapters: 20/20 | Words: 51,598 | AU - College/Uni

Immovable - Chapter 1 - asdfjkl129 - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Bakugou and Midoriya get trapped under a building together. As Midoriya struggles to keep them both alive, refusing to give even an inch, Bakugou realizes some crucial things and refuses to leave without Midoriya by his side.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 76,094

long fics

promises kept - gabstar - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

'after barely surviving the war, katsuki swears to do right by izuku. no matter what it takes.'

Chapters: 10/10 | Words: 125,657

Kamikaze - Chapter 1 - Katsukimchi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'After being injured in a villain fight, Katsuki needs someone to take care of him. The only problem is - the Bakusquad is sick of his inability to accept help. So they send in the only person who's ever been able to tolerate Katsuki at his worst: Midoriya Izuku.'

Chapters: 37/37 | Words: 197,482

Before Midnight - Chapter 1 - DriftingGlass - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery. "Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"

Chapters: 28/28 | Words: 211,528 | AU - Organised Crime

Hummingbird Heartbeat - Chapter 1 - Tokiji - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?” Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—” “What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

Chapters: 28/? | Words: 136,922 | Angst w/ happy ending

Disillusioned - Chapter 1 - Rain_Whistler - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

After learning how some people are treated in a quirk-based society and how little anyone is willing to help. Katsuki makes it his mission to save his first and only friend.

Chapters: 37/? | Words: 182,789 | Quirkless Midoriya Izuku

Tell Me When You're Drowning - Chapter 1 - ThyNameNotSpoken - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku is in the Support Course, perfectly happy having given up his dream of being a Hero long ago. It’s just not possible for him with the nature of his quirk. As long as he continues to manage his quirk, life should be easy sailing. . . right? The teachers of UA think otherwise and become particularly concerned when he and Hatsume help in a training course. All his life, Izuku has kept moving foward. It's how he survived. But if he wants to keep moving forward, he will have to finally face his past

Chapters: 34/34 | Words: 226,705 | Support Course Deku

From The Sidelines - Chapter 1 - suffocatingspring - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

When long-time enemies, Bakugo Katsuki--the all-star athlete and rascal of Ise--and Izuku Midoriya, the town sweetheart, are paired together for a long-term project, the quiet beachside town of Ise suddenly gets a bit louder. In which, Katsuki is an asshole pole vaulter, Izuku is going to fail psychology, and both are about to have the most intense spring semester yet.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 404,533 | AU - Highschool

[softtdaisy]

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid. 

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter. 

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly. 

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to. 

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore. 

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation. 

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be. 

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” 

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically. 

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.” 

The world went silent. 

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?” 

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone. 

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind. 

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

[bennysmiller]

I love your writing! Would you consider writing a short fic where you’re one of Santi’s friends and he sets you up on a blind date with Frankie? Bonus points for Frankie being kind of shy and adorable

Blind Date - Frankie Morales x Reader

Thank you so much for your request!! I really hope this is okay 🩷

I have a friend. He’s single. You’re single. You’re both recently out of long-term relationships. You can awkwardly return to the dating scene together. But seriously, I think you’ll like each other. How does that sound?

You laughed when Santi sent you that text. But two weeks later, you were pacing anxiously in your kitchen waiting for your cab to arrive. You’d partly agreed to the date to shut Santi up, because you knew he’d complain about your complaining if he’d offered you a way out of the single life and you’d refused, without even giving him a chance. Finding a good man was difficult, so it was worth trying, right?

The cab ride to the restaurant was painful, to say the least. You couldn’t help but question if you were doing the right thing, but Santi was one of the few people you actually trusted, and he wouldn’t have set the date up if he didn’t think you’d actually get along.

Five minutes. This Frankie guy was five minutes late. You tapped your fingers on the table, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he maybe got cold feet himself. But out of the corner of your eye, you see a little bit of commotion near the entrance of the restaurant.

A man has a bouquet of roses in one hand, and the other was messing with the soft curls on top of his head. He looked as thought he’d ran all the way there. He was frantically looking around and trying to catch his breath, while also explaining to the wait staff who he was there for.

Someone’s in trouble, you think to yourself. And then it hits you. Man who looks like he’s supposed to be on a date, also looks like he has turned up late to said date?

Then you hear your name. And a few curse words that he muttered under his breath in embarrassment. You look up, and it’s him.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get off work. Then I realised I’d forgotten to get you flowers. I hope you like roses.” He said, as you stood up to greet him.

“Frankie? You’re fine. I mean, not fine as in handsome, just fine as in ‘you don’t need to apologise for being late’. Actually, you’re fine as in handsome too, but-“

Disaster. Two seconds in and it was a disaster.

He hands you the flowers and you thank Frankie, before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you.

“Let’s start over, huh Frankie? We both screwed up there.” You say as you settle at the table.

“Sure, I could take a redo at that”, he laughs and he blushes a little when you laugh back.

You just looked so beautiful. Frankie wished Santi had warned him about that.

The rest of the date went better than either of you could have ever imagined. The chemistry was just as Santi had promised in his myriad of texts to you about it. He knew. He always knew. And you needed to thank him for this one.

Frankie was so pleased with himself, he had you laughing all night. Even in his truck, on the way home. The radio was on, the windows were down, and the conversation was flowing so effortlessly. It was a movie scene straight from a movie that the two of you had no idea was only the first part of many.

“I’d love to see you again,” said Frankie, as he admired the way you looked in the glow of your porch light. “If you feel the same, of course”.

“I feel the same, don’t you worry about that.” You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, which took the poor man by surprise. “Goodnight, Frankie”.

The look you gave him over your shoulder as you opened your front door would be thought about until you graced him with your presence a second time.

[spectoo]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter four – props to you, sakusa

wc 4050 (sorry, this chapter is little long!)

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

13:50.

“Alright, everybody! Thank you for coming to the lecture today, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of the TA’s.”

With that being said, everybody in your communications lecture got up and began to either walk towards the professor with curiosity roaming throughout, or pack up and leave. You never really had much trouble with classes, as you were an outstanding student, but to be honest, school wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Miya Osamu.

Well, more specifically, you couldn’t stop thinking about the food he had made for you. Yes, he himself was running through your mind, but the food was more important. It was seriously some of the best you’ve had. It had been six days since you were at Onigiri Miya, and quite frankly, you’ve been itching to go back.

As you walked out of the building you were in, you were debating if you should go get lunch there. You had work in about an hour and a half, yet, there were numerous thoughts roaming throughout your head.

‘Would it be weird if I went without Atsumu? Or just in general? But, I did tell Miya I was gonna be back eventually…’

The frustration got to you, and in response, you let out a small huff while beginning the short walk to your car. You did want to go back to Onigiri Miya to try other rice ball flavors, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. Would Atsumu be okay with the fact that you found his twin brother attractive?

‘Probably not.’

You reached in your pocket to pull out your car keys, as your car was in full view. If you did want to go to Onigiri Miya, who could you possibly go with? More accurately, who would be the best option to go with?

You didn’t want to take any of your personal friends with you, as you didn’t want them to catch on to the fact that you’re interested in someone new. You opened your car door, and quickly situated yourself.

slam!

You began to scroll through your contacts on your phone to decide who you should take with you.

‘Atsumu, no. Hinata… no. Inunaki? Out of the question. Bokuto, hell no. He has a big mouth.’ Finally your eyes landed on the perfect person to text.

You were surprised at the fact that Sakusa had agreed to come with you, let alone the fact that he was okay with being in the same car as you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of being pretty close to other individuals, but a win is a win.

You were glad that you became acquaintances with him. He wasn’t the type of guy to really get involved in other people's business, and this was a good opportunity to possibly become actual friends with him.

You put your car in drive, and left campus while setting directions to Sakusa’s apartment, with new thoughts about what you should order when you arrive at Onigiri Miya.

𐙚 OSAMU

As mentioned before, it had been six days since you were last at his store. He had been wondering when you were going to come back.

He was currently sitting in his office at Onigiri Miya, and was filling out some order forms. Rush hour had recently ended, and he was glad he was able to take a short ‘break.’ His three scheduled employees were currently cleaning some areas of the kitchen.

A part of him wished he had asked for your number so he was able to know if you were even going to come back, but then again, you both only met once. And plus, Atsumu considered you to be one of his closest friends. The last time Osamu had expressed to Atsumu that he thought one of his female friends was somewhat attractive, a small, verbal fight had broken out.

Please note that this was back in highschool, too.

Yes, years had gone by, and they’ve both grown into (somewhat) mature adults, but Atsumu was still unpredictable.

‘He probably wants her for himself.’ Osamu scoffed. ‘Selfish pig.’

𐙚 YOU

14:16.

“I’m outside.” You spoke as you put your car in park. You had arrived at Sakusa's apartment complex, which was rather luxurious.

“I’ll be down in a second.” A deep voice responded back through the speakers of your car.

“Okay, bye.” You ended the call.

As you laid back in your seat, you decided to observe the scenery around you. His apartment complex was truly gorgeous. There was a lot of greenery, yet it was all neatly planted. You looked to your left, and saw the volleyball player walking towards your car in his usual outfit – some black gym shoes, black joggers, a black hoodie, and a black mask.

‘He wasn’t even lying when he said he’d be down in a second…’ You thought to yourself as you unlocked the car. 

As he opened the door, he immediately sat down, and quickly settled himself.

You bowed your head as a greeting. Shortly after bowing, you began to nod your head, as you were very impressed with him. “Props to you, Sakusa. You’re very punctual with your timing.”

He pulled down his mask, and bowed back to you. “Thank you, [L/N].” 

You quickly put in the navigation for Onigiri Miya, and began the drive.

“So, how’s your day been?” You ask, trying to start a conversation.

“It was okay. How about you? You had classes today, correct?” He responded neutrally.

You smiled. You remember mentioning your school schedule to Sakusa, yet he didn’t seem to be fully interested as you were telling him. “Correct. My day was great, but I got assigned a project for one of my elective classes. It’s okay though, it was expected."

He let out a small ‘hm' before going on his phone and scrolling. You quickly glanced at him, and focused back on the road, while gently tapping your finger on the steering wheel. ‘So much for communication.’

14:25.

There was about five minutes left of the drive, and you and Sakusa haven’t really spoken a word since your failed conversation, yet, you considered the both of you to be sitting in comfortable silence. ‘Popular’ by The Weeknd was currently playing, and the volume was at the perfect amount. You were internally jamming out, but was interrupted.

“[L/N].”

You look over at the curly haired man sitting beside you, and turn the volume down a bit.

“What’s up?” You ask, turning your head back, and keeping your eyes on the road in front of you.

“Have you been to Onigiri Miya before? Or is this your first time?” 

You were a bit taken back by this, even though it was pretty unserious. “Uh, yeah. I tried it for the first time about a week ago.”

A small silence… “I went with Atsumu and Hinata.” You continued, in a less confident manner.

“Ah.” Sakusa looked out his window, and you thought that was the end of the conversation. Yet, he spoke once more, turning back to you. “So, you met Osamu? What did you think of him?”

Your heart dropped. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t even be concerned in this first place, but why was he asking question, after question? You decided to stay quiet for as long as you possibly could, while thinking of a proper answer. A couple seconds have gone by at this point, and Sakusa was still staring at you, expecting an answer.

You quickly turn your head towards him, with a still face, and turn back. “Um, you know… Miya seems like a nice guy.” Your eyes quickly move to the ETA on your carplay. ‘2 minutes…’ With that being said, you pressed the gas pedal with a little more pressure to speed up. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, which made you a bit tense.

Sakusa seemed to notice this, and nodded his head, deciding to stop talking.

‘What was that even about? Like? ... Oh, I have to turn here.’

You make a right turn, and enter the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located. It’s all starting to seem familiar to you. You decide to park in the same spot you were in last time, and after you turn off your car, both you and Sakusa get out simultaneously. He quickly pulled his mask up, and the both of you walked to the door.

You opened the door for him, and went in behind him. Immediately after entering, you’re both greeted by one of the female employees at the store.

“Hello, welcome in!” she spoke as she bowed to the both of you.

You both nodded back. You and Sakusa walked closer to the counter, and the first thing you noticed was that Osamu wasn’t in your sight at all. You were immediately disappointed, yet didn’t think much of it. As you look up at the menu, you hear Sakusa speak.

“Could you tell Miya to come to the front?”

The disappointment you felt earlier was gone at once.

“No problem.” 

You briefly look at the worker, and see her walking to the back, most presumably to his office.

‘Round two, Miya.’ You smirked.

𐙚 OSAMU

knock knock!

“Boss, Sakusa is here with someone else, and he asked for you!”

Osamu immediately looked up from his paperwork, and put his pen down. ‘No shot.’ He thought as he got up, and straightened out his clothes.

He opened the door that leads out of his office, and to the kitchen. He could feel some anxious feelings being brought up within himself, but paid no mind. “Thank you, Ito. Could you go help prepare some fillings?”

“Yes.” She slightly bowed, and walked away.

Osamu began walking towards the front. He saw Sakusa first, staring back at him. And… It was you. A little bit distant from Sakusa, and looking at the menu.

“Hey, Sakusa.” Osamu turned to look at you, to already see you staring back at him. “Hello, [L/N]. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up again.” He said as he put his hand on his hips, while internally cursing himself out. He was trying to act nonchalant, but his true feelings got the best of him.

You responded with a chuckle. “Hey, Miya. I would’ve showed up sooner, but school got the best of me.”

As you and Osamu began a new conversation about what you would potentially be ordering this time, nothing between the both of you went unnoticed by Sakusa. Yes, he was quiet sometimes, but he was still observant. He noticed how you had that little smile plastered upon your face while talking with Osamu. He also noticed how Osamu’s cheeks began to flush a very light pink color, which Sakusa has never seen him do before.

“Helloooo, earth to Sakusa? Are you there?” He immediately snaps out of his daze to see you waving your hand at a safe distance in front of his face. “Hello.”

“Ya want the usual, ‘Omi?” Osamu began tapping some buttons on his register, before Sakusa could respond. Yet, nothing was wrong with this as the curly haired man began to nod his head.

“Uh, also, put [L/N]’s order on the same bill as mine.” He quickly spoke, putting his hands in his pocket.

You raised an eyebrow, and turned to Sakusa. “Oh? Why?”

“You picked me up, and drove me here.”

You stayed silent for a second, truly wondering if he was being serious. Yet, you internally grinned. This was your opportunity to drop the ‘friend’ bomb on him.

“Um… we’re friends. I don’t mind having to drive you to places.” Nailed it.

He sighed, and pulled his mask down. “I suppose. I’ll still pay, though.”

You shrugged, and internally came up with the solution to just pay for him the next time you both get food together. “Okay… um… I think I’ll do two bonito flake rice balls, and three tenmusu.”

“What? No vigorous amount today?” Osamu responded back, tapping more buttons on his screen.

“I actually can’t. My stomach began to hurt after I got back to my apartment last time.”

“What did ya expect? Ya had fifteen onigiri.” He grinned as he put both of his hands on the counter in front of him.

“Excuse me, [L/N]? You had fifteen?” Sakusa looked absolutely disgusted.

You didn’t even know what to say. You pursed your lips together and looked away. After a couple of seconds of silence between the three of you, you spoke up, and pointed to a table in the corner. “I’m going to sit there.” And with that being said you, walked away.

“Alright, ‘Omi. Yer total is ¥2,500. Ya doin card?”

Sakusa nodded his head, and handed Osamu his card. “By the way, could you, uh, make my onigiri to go?”

Osamu briefly looked up at the man in front of him, and looked back down to the card reader. “Yer not eatin’ with [L/N]?”

“I am, it’s just in case.”

Osamu let out a small “hm,” and handed Sakusa his card back. “Should be out in a couple minutes.”

With that, Sakusa walked to the table you were at, and took a seat across from you. You put your phone down, and the both of you begin to have a small conversation about relations to MSBY.

14:38.

“Order up.”

You and Sakusa both look at Osamu, holding a ceramic plate with one hand, and a plastic bag with the other. Sakusa gets up and bows to him, then grabs both from him without any issue. 

“Whose bag is that?” You ask while pointing at it.

“Oh…” Sakusa puts your plate on the table, yet doesn’t sit back down. “It’s mine. My um– Meian texted me and asked me to come early to practice. So I got my food to go.”

You stare at him with a bewildered look on your face. “Meian texted you?” You tried confirming. You don’t remember him going on his phone since you both walked into the store, and you know that Meian would not be the one to text him, it would be Coach Foster.

“Yeah… so I’ll be leaving.”

You slowly nod your head. He didn’t sound too confident with his answers, and at this point, you knew he was making this up. “Okay, no problem. But how are you gonna get there? I drove you, ya’ know.”

Sakusa averted his eyes from you, and to the window behind, and almost immediately, a red Lexus EX, with tinted windows, halted directly in front of the store. As you heard the tires screeching, you turned around to get a quick look, and before you knew it, Sakusa bolted out of Onigiri Miya, and almost instantly, got into the car.

You watched with so much confusion as the car sped away, wondering where everything within this situation went wrong. Soon enough, you could hear footsteps getting closer to you, yet you continued to look out the window.

“Did Sakusa just leave ya by yerself?” A deep voice spoke. You didn’t even have to look at the person to know who it was.

“Yeah, it was really weird. I’ve never seen him leave abruptly like that.” You can feel Osamu’s eyes on you, and as you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a view of his sculpted chest, yet, at a safe distance. The shirt he was wearing wasn’t even covering the outline of his upper body. 

You internally thanked God for this view, although eventually realized that you were quite literally just staring at his chest. You quickly shift your eyes to his face, only to be met with a smirk, which causes the tips of your ears to turn red. ‘Fuck.’ Is the only word appropriate enough to react with, because how else would you respond to this situation?

“Would ya like me to make yer onigiri to go? I doubt you’d wanna stay here by yerself.” Osamu asked, crossing his arms and keeping that smug look on his face.

You thought to yourself for a moment, and realized that this was your chance to learn more about him. And probably throw in a little flirting.

You put your right elbow on the table, and put your cheek in the palm of your hand, still keeping eye contact with Osamu. “Y’know, I would say yes, but I did come here for a reason.”

“Oh? Care ta’ elaborate?” 

You mentally shrieked like a teenage girl. You loved where this was going. “What fun would there be if I did, Miya?”

𐙚 OSAMU

‘Is this actually happening?’

You coming to Osamu’s store was already the highlight of his day, but this conversation the two of you are having? He can’t handle it. Just imagine how he feels – he’s been wanting to see you for almost a week, and his wish has been fulfilled. Even with more added to it!

Then, almost instantly, he had the best idea. ‘Should I do… it?’ He wondered. He didn’t want to come off as weird, but he thought of a way to continue this conversation, and see more of your face while working.

He let out a brief huff, and grabbed your plate with the five uneaten rice balls on it. 

“My food.” You whined, just loud enough for him to hear. He thought that was cute.

He then sets your dish at the counter that overlooks the kitchen, which could give whoever sits there a clear view of him and his employees, making the food.

He looks back at you, and motions for you to come and sit there. “I’ll keep ya company while ya eat.”

‘Was that slick enough?’ He asked himself, feeling unsure, but when he sees you pick up your necessities, and start walking to him, he can’t help but feel like he’s won the lottery.

𐙚 YOU

As you get closer, you watch the handsome man as he pulls out a specific chair for you, and you gladly take a seat. Then after, he pushes you in, and goes behind the counter, preparing to make more rice balls for his display case.

“Do you treat all your customers like this?” You asked, finally picking up one of your onigiri, and taking a bite out of it.

Osamu is directly in front of you, and as you’re chewing, your eyesight falls to his hands, looking through the glass, and watching the way he is sculpting the rice.

‘So he’s good with his hands, huh?’

“Eh, just the pretty ones.”

You immediately look back up at him, to see him already staring at you. You swallowed, and spoke. “Acting confident, are we?”

He chuckled, and began to wrap the onigiri he had just completed. “I’m just tellin’ it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes while smiling, and took another bite of your food. “Thank you.”

Osamu briefly walked away to put the onigiri on display, which gave you some time to observe him, but from behind. You realized he had an upside down triangle body shape, which you found incredibly attractive. Your eyes then moved to his butt, and you cursed yourself in your head. ‘Why can’t mine be as big as his?’

“Oi, [L/N]. Ya checkin’ me out?” His voice startled you, causing you to instantly look anywhere else but him.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You denied. He could see right through you. He knew you were staring at him, and truth to be told, he didn’t mind at all.

You move your eyes back to his face, and sigh, before taking another bite out of your onigiri.

“Whatever ya say.” He began to work on the next onigiri, and once more, you looked at the way his hands stuffed the rice with filling.

15:08.

Time had gone by since you were seated at the counter, and you were nearing the end of your little trip to Onigiri Miya. You had already finished all five of your onigiri towards the beginning of your conversation with him, but stayed to talk. You ended up learning more about him, and he learned about you. 

He told you that he was from the Hyogo prefecture, and he grew up with no other siblings besides Atsumu. He had also mentioned that he went to Inarizaki, and played volleyball as a kid, up until highschool. He was a wing spiker, and he was damn good at what he did. When it came down to you, you told him where you grew up, and how many siblings you have in contrast to him. You brought up the fact that you had played a couple of different sports when you were a kid, but didn’t have the passion to really continue as you grew older.

As the both of you were laughing at a joke you had made, you looked down at your phone, and saw the time. You had to leave for work now if you didn’t want to be late and risk getting lectured by one of your supervisors.

You sighed as you stood up, and handed Osamu your plate.

“Ya gotta go?” He asked, taking it from you, and putting it in the sink.

“Yeah, unfortunately I have work at 15:30.” 

He wanted to tell you something along the lines of ‘Who cares about your job? Just skip work and stay here with me!,’ but obviously, he couldn’t. Instead, he said with a thin lined smile, “Well, ya gotta do whatcha’ gotta do.”

You nodded as you stood up, and grabbed your necessities, shoving them in your pockets. You look at Osamu, and bow. “Thanks for keeping me company, Miya. You didn’t have to.”

He began to wave one of his hands in a dismissive way. “Ya don’t have to bow, [L/N]. In all honesty, I wanted to continue talking to ya. Yer a lighthearted person, and ya can’t find much of that nowadays.”

Your eyes literally twinkled at that compliment. “I appreciate that. For all that It’s worth, thanks for not being unamusing.” And with one final bow, you began to make your way to the door.

Your heart began to pound, due to the fact that you were proud of yourself. Proud of yourself for not acting awkward, and for having a good time with a ten out of ten. Before you could reach the door handle, said ten out of ten called out to you.

“Wait, [L/N].” You turned around to already see him walking to you, phone in his hand. You waited until he got close enough to you, and when he did, you both stood there, staring at each other. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

Therefore, you took initiative. “Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, almost instantly, he held out his phone, with the contact app already opened.

“Can I have yer number?”

You swore you almost fainted.

“U-uh, yeah! Sure.” You quickly muttered out, trying to hide the blush that was present on your face.

You also grabbed your phone and opened the contact app, ultimately, switching phones with each other.

𐙚 Bonus

14:39.

After Ongiri Miya was out of distance, Sakusa groaned, and looked at the individual who was driving the red Lexus. “Why do you drive like a maniac?”

“Nevermind that! Do you think she’s going to end up staying?”

Sakusa turned his head to look out the passenger window, and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about a proper answer. “In truth, I believe she’s going to stay. They seemed to take a liking to one another.”

A satisfied hum was used as a response by the driver, and after a few moments of tranquility between the two, Sakusa spoke once more.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting involved in a non-existent romantic relationship that isn’t yours, Hinata.”

The ginger rolled his eyes, and focused back on the road. “It might be non-existent now, Sakusa, but I get the vibe that they’re eventually going to end up together.” His mood lightened up, and he began to grin.

“Why not help kickstart her future relationship?"

authors notes !

𐙚 sorry that this chapter was long ! i kinda just word vomitted , and stuck with it .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

𐙚 i hope you enjoyed this chapter , my beloved reader-chan ! <3

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger finale

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

“Love? Do you not think that’s too strong of a word?” Ónoma questioned the man.

“I do not, in fact, I think it is not strong enough to describe what I feel for you. It is something I’ve never felt before, not even for Amphitrite when we were still married. The Gods do not feel as humans do, you are well aware of this, do not question my feelings for you again, they are carved into me like a river cuts through a mountain, like a ships cuts through the waves.” The sincerity and seriousness of his voice stunned her.

He had been serious with her before, but it had not been this pressing. She’d not meant to hold her breath an inhaled deeply when she realized. She searched his eyes for any insincerity, but came up with nothing. “Show me.” Was all she replied.

“What?” Five.

“You said you were in disguise, I wish to see you, the real you, so that we may bury all lies told.” She held his gaze as she spoke. A smirk graced his face as he took her face in his hands.

“I thought you wanted me to show my love, not that I’m complaining about this, but I think that would have been way more fun. Though, I suppose this request is way more you.” He winked at her, caressed her cheek, then took a step back. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

If he was ethereal before, he was something else entirely now. His hair was longer, flowing like waves, but his frame was broader. He seemed to be as sharp as the earthquakes he caused, but as soft as the sea in rest at the same time.

“I accept.” She stated, seemingly out of nowhere. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What do you accept? My proposition?” He asked, sounding almost giddy while trying to retain a cool exterior. Three.

Ónoma feigned a sigh and struggled to contain her smirk. “Your apology, I accept your apology.” She was having way too much fun riling him up. Poseidon noticed her expression and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you teasing me?”

“Maybe, I believe that’s two questions left.”

“You’re still keeping track of that, huh? Well then, if I have two left, what is the goal of your teasing?” Ónoma recognized the first question to be rhetorical, and allowed him that much.

She took a challenging step closer. The two now breathing the same air, chest to chest. She looked up at him through her lashes and ran a finger down his chest, stopping at the cloth that covered him. “I think you know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I want you to ruin me, completely.” She whispered. Her voice was soft, but her eyes were bold as she held his gaze. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand, the other holding the back of her head, and brought her impossibly closer. Just the smallest shift would have their lips touching.

“Oh, I intend to, but first, will you be mine?”

“Yes.” She breathed. As their lips finally touched, she felt him smile, and she followed suit.

A/N: Could this have been added to the previous part? Yes. Did I want to be evil and make you wait just a bit longer? Yes.

To the friends of the fic in the taglist, do you want to be added for the works mentioned in the poll in part 19? Please let me know and I hope you enjoyed this series. I might write some standalone fics about the future of Poseidon and Ónoma, I might not. For now, this is my goodbye to this storyline.

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target @barrythestrawberry041 @darling-eos @doodle-with-rhy @glaciuswduo @hardbarbarianfox @h0ne4bee @isla-finke-blog @keikeiluvyou @missam

@suckerforblondies @trashcannotbealive @visha1965

[postcardsfromheapside]

So I finished my DA2 replay, and I had wondered if I would feel differently after taking my time with it, and with the perspective of Veilguard. And yes, in small ways I do, but about the series and about Anders, I don't. That is to say: I think Veilguard is a fucking fantastic capper to the series (I mean, pray there is more, "hope for the best, expect the worst" as the Mel Brooks song goes), and Anders is relatably angry, even if the "betrayal" is frustrating and heart-breaking.

Also, there's just too much Dragon Age just the same way there's too much Tolkien, it's just that I can relisten to Tolkien via audiobook while I work and don't have time to constantly replay Dragon Age to absorb every little detail that my broken brain forgets (and I'm pretty good with lore) and I wish parts of this fandom were more curious than scathing about things they've obviously forgotten. Or skipped through, according to some of them, because I guess the context of dialogue and a cut scene isn't necessary for some of them to weigh in on things.

Word vomit of notes below the break:

First of all.

Can these two just fuck already. Watching Cassandra go from throwing him around to absolutely ENTHRALLED by Varric's complete bullshit is just going to make it so much better when I hit the "Guilty Pleasures" quest again in DA:I. This woman is SEDUCED by his story-telling, and you *cannot* convince me he wasn't gagging on his power trip.

Second.

I never played Mark of the Assassin before, and had completely forgotten Felicia Day was in DA2, and laughed like hell. I really enjoyed it. I haven't really used a stealth option in a game since leaving Skyrim for other stuff (do we ever really leave Skyrim?) and it was really fun, but I think the wyvern at the end of the DLC was actually the best fight in the entire game, even more than Corypheus. It hinted at the dragon battles to come in Veilguard. Also, I loved how Anders' dialogue got more relaxed outside of Kirkwall, like shedding the city let him loosen up. The back and forth with Hawke about his fantasy for being rescued was completely unhinged - after I accused Hawke of being feral and lacking social graces, I've decided the two of them match each other's freak and they're fine.

Third.

All the people who were losing their minds about the line "A crow never abandons a contract" and acting like the devs forgot Zevran.

He literally addresses it in the game. I keep having these moments where shit that people bitched about regarding Veilguard is addressed right *there.*

"The crows do like saying that, but I am living proof it's a lie."

No one actually forgot, but I'm sure the Dellamorte's wish to the Maker a motherfucker could.

When people complain the writing in Veilguard is too modern, I'm going to remember Hawke complaining exactly like this. She sounds like I do when I'm side-eyeing my friends in the year of our Maker 2025.

Fourth.

I had planned on romancing Blackwall this DA:I run, finally, because I'm a little obsessed with this Warden throughline from Anders to Blackwall to Davrin. From a cage, to hope/redemption, to a more meaningful path of positive change and impact.

They both haunt Veilguard's narrative and dialogue.

And then of course:

hrm.

Fifth.

I do hope we get another DA. Or supplementary material. Because I want to know what the fuck is going on with this story I had forgotten the details of, especially with the decision regarding the Nadas Dirthalen.

These two fucking idiots. I can't believe in different lives I've schtupped them both. (I can absolutely believe it)

Sixth.

The worst part of Meredith is she sounds like conservative family members of mine. 'Better to punish the innocent than risk even one guilty person go free', rather than the opposite. To them it sounds so reasonable. To us, it's abhorrent to punish everyone else for other people's crimes.

I couldn't bring myself to feel betrayed by Anders, even though I tried to play my Hawke as I think she would have felt: betrayed by the secret-keeping, if nothing else. The shock and hurt at the innocent lives. But it's hard not to feel an understanding when I sit here in a political situation with - maybe not less fraught, but at least less fantastical - implications and certainly still feel like violence is inevitable and we are way past the point of compromise and words.

Anyway.

This dwarf.

[crtakespropogandist]

CR 3 finale dump pt. 3 - Putting my finger on it

I enjoyed the campaign while I was watching it for the most part, because the cast's antics and chemistry always make me smile. But I invariably engaged the most during the tie-ins and cameos bringing back the PCs and NPCs from previous campaigns, and I couldn't summon the same investment for this one. I was ruminating on why that was, and here is what I came up with:

Campaign 3 didn't "work" like the other two because the characters, the plot, and the setting were not integrated. Matt had an epic storyline in mind that could dramatically change Exandria. He also had two lovingly designed settings, Marquet and Ruidus, the fruits of great collaborative labor that he wanted to show off. Finally, he wanted to let his friends have total control in conceptualizing their characters. The result is that the players and Matt seemed really afraid of stepping on each other's (and the other creatives') toes, and the narrative hurt for it.

Character hooks led away from the plot and setting. Setting hooks led away from the plot and characters. Plot hooks led away from the setting and characters. The cast ultimately had to follow the plot, leaving PCs uninvested and locations underutilized along with all their resident NPCs. Freaking Vox Machina had stronger relationships with Marquesian NPCs.

Yet Matt was still discouraged from taking time away from exploring new places and meeting new people for a deeper dive on Delilah Briarwood. Why didn't Ludinus give Tal'Dorei a heads up when the Briarwoods became fugitives? Did he help them in exchange for residuum? Did they steal his obsessive research on the Matron's ritual for Vecna to use? Maybe Jiana Hexum knows something abou...oop BH left Jrusar and forgot all about her. Matt was also discouraged from leaving shiny new Marquet any earlier for Aeor 2: Electric Boogaloo, which left FCG high and dry. The self-imposed balance between the three key story elements was impossible to maintain in a satisfactory way.

VM and M9 are native to their campaigns' respective continents (except my boy Tary ofc), and the plot evolved organically from personal stakes intrinsic to those settings. Moments like "I am no friend to the empire" and "It's Lady Vex'ahlia" are off the table when the party is Oops! All Transients. The worst irony is that Matt undermined the players' autonomy by unilaterally deciding that Caleb and Beau utterly fumbled the task Liam and Marisha set them to in their C2 epilogues. Liam's frustration at the Key scene was palpable. My fellow viewers who only hopped aboard on Campaign 3 can get weirdly defensive against C2's "encroachment" and C2 enjoyers (also fellows of mine) wishing it would "encroach" more. Ludinus was introduced in C2. The ruins of Aeor and Molaesmyr are in Wildmount. Dunamancy is centralized in Wildmount. The Nein spent time in Aeor, in Uthodurn, in the Dynasty. The Nein have gods. What experiments did Ludinus conduct in Vergessen? What are the specifics about what Ludinus did in Molaesmyr, what he's done throughout his life of scheming? It's pretty safe to guess that the Nein would have found out given another chance. Could you imagine how Campaign 2 might have panned out if Beau and Caleb reeeaaally grilled Demid Sunlash and followed up on where he went? (Also Ruidusborn!Essek would have made so much sense I'm vibrating) (Also also d'ya think Eadwulf was always supposed to be a real Matron follower, or could he have been set up as a Paragon's Call/Vanguard type reporting to Ludinus?)

The Mighty Nein are a party with a collective INT that blows BH out of the water. Even as someone introduced to the stream via BH, I can't help but agree with Beau's "Why not us?" comments. Why not give the Wildmount party the Wildmount BBEG? Why not give Bell's Hells the kind of story that encourages them to be little NPC-coded freaks pushing each other's big red buttons just to see what happens? Why not give Marquet a party that calls it home?

The answer is because we got this instead, and I'm kinda sad about it. If BH gets animated, that show is a lost cause if some fundamental changes aren't made.

[nex-ture]

Hello so I was wondering if I could request saiki k headcannons with an S/o who is like norman from tpn? (Pretty privilege, super super smart, can’t open a jar, horrible immune system, teachers pet, always cold, even though he’s weak he’s very fast) if it’s okay can you do gender neutral? Don’t feel pressured to do this ❤️thank you

Saiki K x GN!Reader

Clearing out my asks and drafts, I also didn't read tpn... but pray

You don't really stand out to Saiki all that much. You're good at what you do, and you try hard.

Not exactly the ideal situation if you want to be noticed by Saiki.

The small things that do catch his attention is the amount of time you take off from school, yet still manage to get good grades.

I mean, if he was gone for multiple days every month, he's sure he wouldn't be able to keep up in studies.

His curiosity is his only drawl back, you've officially peaked his interest.

Saiki is always looking out for you once he realizes it's because you're always sick.

Sure, bad things happen, and you just have to move past them, but he does pity you. You work hard, and your only flaw is the body you're trapped in.

Once his days start revolving around you, he starts to pick up on small things you do.

Needing help from your friends to open things, always getting compliments for your academics and looks.

Sure, Saiki isn't the best when it comes to determining someones looks, but he couldn't deny your intellect and your dedication to education.

Saiki finds himself almost nervous to talk to you. You're popular yet so normal. You have your interests that you like, yet you have a normal routine.

Maybe you share the same ideal as him, that you wish everything in your life was normal and as it should be.

He awaits the day you strike the first move and speak to him first, it's a day he's been counting on since he met you.

[marscantread7]

Idk if anyone's done this yet, but I'm thinking abt Camgirl!reader x Cameraman!Xavier-- MDNI

Basically, u started this as a way to pay for school. U were struggling to find a job, and were really desperate, so u js did what u could. It started off w/ ur phone camera and really poor sound quality as u didn't have a mic and ur headphones were really cheap, so their mic js wouldn't make the cut.

U truly didn't expect the video of u fucking urself on some cheap dildo to go viral... like, what...? The comments weren't too specific either. Some people really liked ur moans, others liked how u talked urself through it, a lot of people commented on how sensitive u were and they really liked it. U truly don't know what boosted it, but hey! Ur bank account wasn't complaining.

U were able to get a really nice camera and a mic after that. And a much better sex toy collection. U turned ur spare bedroom into a streaming/recording room bc that's another thing. U were popular enough to do livestreams now, yay! Things were going so well for u, it was great.

Eventually, u got bored of it. I mean, it was fun, u tried new things and even got to do a few collabs w/ some friends u made in the community. That really boosted ur popularity too. And now u were one of the biggest names in the industry, it was really nice... but u wish ur content was more... interactive. More creative... and that's when u decided to do a deep dive on cameramen.

U have seen streams w/ cameramen, where they played the pov of the viewer, and u really wanted that. After 2 weeks of doing countless interviews and research, u found the perfect match. He wasn't too outgoing, very shy, but u saw his work. The camera work was fucking beautiful. His editing brought tears to ur eyes, and it was js so immersive. His way of storytelling was js so inspiring.

U guys got along well. His name was Xavier, and u guys actually went to the same university. He was a film major compared to ur Comp Sci major, so it makes sense why u guys never ran into e/o. He's taken up small roles as a director, and said he wants to be a big name in the industry one day, but this would be a nice opportunity to really test out his skills.

It started out simple. U guys would come up w/ stories together, test out how it would work, and then execute it. It was a process, but u guys worked really well together.

It took a while for u guys to actually get physical w/ e/o though. The povs first started off w/ no physical interaction with e/o. Xavier would js talk and command u. U would js caption the videos as, "Angry bf commands u as u ride dildo" "Mean professor disciplines student w/ remote controlled vibrator" all that corny shit. It worked though. Ur viewers loved it, and these types of videos actually seemed to bring in a new audience.

It wasn't until one day, when u guys were coming up w/ the next storyline, Xavier shyly brought up u riding his shoe or thigh for a video. U were confused bc u guys have never been physical, and u were fine w/ that, but why the sudden interest? He quickly stuttered out that he thinks u guys should try smth new and more physically interactive to really immerse the viewers. Js no actual sex, and u readily agreed.

And that's how ur newest, and most recent content started. U never intended to make this a full time job, but it seems that's what happened. When u told this to Xavier, u expressed that u were fine w/ finding a new cameraman bc u knew this wasn't a lifelong commitment for him, but he said he didn't mind this being a full time job. U pay him well enough, probably more than u should, and he really enjoys working w/ u. From there, u guys became more than js coworkers.

U started to meet up outside of planning different videos, getting lunch together, going to museums together. U guys started to casually text and call, it was nice. Really nice. U found urself starting to really enjoy his company, truly. He was nice, sweet, understanding, and caring. He was so smart too, sometimes u couldn't help but feel like u were holding him back.

Imagine ur shock when one day, he shows up to ur place unannounced. Hm? U guys didn't have any plans for videos today, weird. Js as u open the door, he slams into u, capturing ur lips in a searing kiss, confessing to u immediately after. He's in love w/ u, and he's always been in love w/ u, and he loves being w/ u, and he loves working w/ u, he's glad to have met u all those years ago, and grow w/ u, and he really wants to be more than coworkers and friends. Wow! What a lot...

If I was evil, I'd make this angsty, however I'm not evil and I hate angst, so yippee! U accept his feelings and tell him u feel the same. Which leads into yet again, another change in ur content.

Ur videos r really interactive now. Sucking on Xavier's thumb as he fucks into u, muttering abt how ur such a good girl and he loves fucking u. Or ur on all fours as Xavier fingers u, telling u to accept ur punishment for being such a bad, puppy (he really loved the puppy x master roleplay... FREAK🫵🏾). Ur viewers loved it, and u shot up to the number one camgirl. Ur solo live streams now became duos, Xavier keeping his face out of frame as he touched u to completion, fucking a dildo in and out of u, or js teasing ur clit as u came over and over again, covering his long fingers in ur slick and cum.

U guys really made a great team, eventually moving in together and announcing ur relationship, hoping that would lessen the confessions in ur inbox. Xavier still chose to keep his identity a secret to the world, but evb loved him regardless. "The camerman w/ the soft voice and big dick." is how ur followers constantly described him. It was hilarious to u.

Idk how to end this, so js pretend it's a really good conclusion and cheer.

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

Uhm, happy birthday or smth idk. Js eat ur food man. Tried to do more fluff than smut and more story than smut, blah blah cutesy lovey dovey yadda yadda. I'll write it out fully one of these days, I'm tryna figure out what to cook up for V-day. Hope evb enjoys though.

@deadbydad-talks-ships @scarasdarling tag cause u guys commented.

[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.”

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.

[fateofflames]

Megumi was a good person. Yuji knew that by now. Even if he didn’t outright say he cared for others, Yuji could see it in his actions. Sure, Megumi could be a little quiet, maybe a bit hard to get close to, but Yuji didn’t mind one bit. It was worth the wait—worth it to see Megumi slowly open up to him. But at the same time, wasn’t that selfish?

Yuji was fated to die, wasn’t he? Maybe he just wanted to enjoy what little time he had left with someone he liked, someone he cared for. But wouldn’t that be cruel? To make Megumi go through that again—to lose him again?

Yuji tried not to dwell on such dark thoughts, not when he had no control over them. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to defeat Sukuna without dying. He knew it was unlikely—probably impossible—but he had to try. He might not have his grandpa anymore, but there were still people who cared about him. He couldn’t just give up. Even if he was destined to die, didn’t he at least deserve to enjoy life while he could?

Things had never been easy for him. Not since he could remember. But Yuji didn’t think he had a bad life. Even now, after everything—even after dying—he still felt like he’d lived a pretty good life so far. And seeing what his sorcerer friends had been through only made him more certain. He just hoped he could ease their burdens, even if only a little. It was naïve, wishful thinking, but Yuji was going to try his best anyway.

“Huh? Really? So you don’t talk to them much?” Yuji asked, tilting his head. “You seem close, though. I mean, everyone seems comfortable with each other, you know? Well—except maybe Kugisaki. But you know how she is.”

He chuckled, thinking over what little he had gathered about the others. They all seemed nice enough. Then again, Yuji usually got along with most people. He just hoped they liked him enough to tolerate him—at the very least, since they’d probably be working together here and there. Not that he minded. He was perfectly happy working with Megumi and Nobara. The two of them were more than enough. But if anyone else ever needed him, he wouldn’t hesitate to help.

Yuji snapped out of his thoughts when Megumi suddenly commented on the food. Yuji blinked, then felt heat rush to his face. He blushed at the unexpected compliment before breaking into a wide smile. Cooking had always been fun for him, but what really made it special was making others happy with his food. If people enjoyed what he made, that was enough to bring him joy. And Megumi enjoying it? That made him especially happy. He’d gladly cook for Megumi again. Anytime.

“I’m glad you like it,” Yuji said, grinning. “Cooking’s fun for me, and it’s even better when people enjoy it.”

As he hummed in contentment, excitement suddenly lit up his face when Megumi’s black dog appeared out of nowhere. Without hesitation, Yuji tried to feed it some of his food while stuffing his own face at the same time.

Nervous. Nervous. And what for? It was breakfast just like any other day. Just like the past fifteen years of his life. Except he wasn't eating old rice with his sister or hiding away in his room in order to avoid certain people. He was having a genuine home-cooked breakfast with a boy who held the fate of jujutsu in his hands. More importantly, it was a boy who meant more to Megumi than he ever thought possible. If Yuji was a normal boy, it wouldn't matter.

In fact it would probably be easier for the both of them if Yuji was a normal boy still living merrily and without the pressure of... death. Imagine Yuji going to regular school, out in his school uniform playing sports, and Megumi standing outside the gate watching him. It was... creepy but Megumi's intentions were wholesome. If the young boy could make a wish that would actually come true, it would be for Yuji to have a death and stress free life away from jujutsu and curses.

He could watch him from afar and maybe hope the two would bump into each other. It was worth it so see the boy happy. Though as it turned out Yuji cooking breakfast was happy. So it seemed on the surface level. Megumi was in a world of darkness and jujutsu wasn't sprung up on him so late in life. Yuji continued to radiate warmth and kindness even with a death sentence over his head.

It sickened Megumi. Sickened him that anyone could wish harm on such a heroic and wonderful human. Megumi should have started breakfast instead he was putting it all on Yuji despite it being offered, so Megumi just tried to look busy. He cut up fruit for them at the very least and when one pan or dish was dirty, promptly cleaned and dried it. All the while he looked at Yuji.

“ It's fine... ”

He dressed in a hurry that pink hair was still wet. He wanted to get a towel and dry his hair... lean in close and smell his shampoo and soap. Picturing drying Yuji's hair in such a domestic way, Megumi began rubbing his hands on the kitchen towel. After a few moments, he caught himself and stopped so embarrassed. When he was sure Yuji wasn't looking, he hit his own leg and got his head on straight. Two tall glasses of water were set at the table for them both and then Yuji's question caught his attention. He thought about it for a few seconds but really, there wasn't much to say.

“ Quiet. Panda-senpai was the most talkative otherwise it's really quiet. Some days I'd forget people lived here. ”

It was boring but boring was Megumi's normal. Tokyo's jujutsu school had a beautiful campus but it was a little sad how dead it was. A country full of curses and so few sorcerers to do anything about it. The loudest and liveliest thing at school was Gojo and Megumi already had enough of that growing up. He disliked the loud and the flashy, but he liked Yuji. He wasn't necessarily loud but he was bright.

There was no missing when Itadori was around and Megumi... loved it that way. When all the food was done, the solemn boy sat down and glanced at all the food. It was perfect for teenage boys. Boys who were trained killers. He picked up his utensils and took the first bite of fluffy eggs. He felt Yuji's eyes on him, so Megumi kept his green eyes down cast to his plate.

“ It's delicious.... ”

He meant it but he was too NERVOUS to look Yuji in the eyes. His stomach was also tight with nerves but he pushed through to eat. If he didn't, he feared offending his friend. It really was delicious. With a mouth full of food like a squirrel, Megumi summoned his last Divine Dog to ease the pressure and attention away from him. As soon as the black shikigami appeared, it sat with a wagging tail at the end of the table, eyes darting between them both.

“ Thank you, Itadori. ”

[dragongirlie56]

05- Solace in Lullabies

My submission for Zelinktines! (and a one shot i’ve been wanting to write for a while now lol)

I chose prompt 2: Singing!

I wanted to only do 500 word drabble…. but I went to 2,000 words. I’m not mad about it.

@zelinktines

Thanks for hosting this! It’s such a cute idea!!

Ship: Zelink BOTW

Angst and fluff balance!

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Moonlight lit the back of Link's tunic. The faint light cast his weak shadow across the stone. He stood at the edge of the spring with his gaze toward the arch entrance. The legendary sword resting in his grip, the tip of his blade grazing the ancient grounds. His cerulean eyes scanned for any ounce of danger that threatened to push past him.

Flurries of snow descended from above, landing in his dirty blonde locks and his sleeves. He couldn’t deny that it was peaceful up on Mount Lanayru, however, peace was far from the young hero’s mind. He could never ease his mind when Zelda was troubled, especially when they visited the springs.

Zelda was immersed waist-deep in the freezing cold water; her once recited prayers shifted into anguished pleas. The bitter heartache laced in her voice was more than enough for him to tell she was reaching her limit.

It tore his heart in every direction.

“Curse you.” His ears twitched slightly at the sound of water splashing and his heart stopped. She didn’t fall in did she? Right as he turned to check she spoke again, easing his initial panic. ”Every single day I pray and every single day you show no signs in return! I’ve been doing this all my life. I had no childhood just so I could pray to you for some stupid powers that don’t seem to work! Do you really wish for Hyrule to crumble at the hands of that monster? Do you want me to fail so terribly that you’d risk the world? Your people? My friends who are risking their lives? My-“ She choked on a sob. “Are you even there?”

Link closed his eyes, a sorrowful sigh escaping him. The goddess was testing his patience. Was she just like the rest of the skeptics parading around Hyrule who doubted the young princess, including the king himself? His fists tensed around the hilt of his sword… some goddess she was and some father the king claimed to be.

A spike of anger stabbed his gut. Screw Hylia, screw Ganon, screw the faithless, and screw the king. If it wouldn’t result in exile, Link would give the King of Hyrule a piece of his mind.

“What is wrong with me?”

The words pierced him like a lynel spear, tearing him from his thoughts and making his eyes widen. Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with you! He wanted to scream out but his throat went dry. Dry with his oath to the royal guard and his appointed position… he was only her protector. But doesn’t being her protector also permit him to support her and protect her emotionally? The thought made him furrow his brows.

“Tell me! Am I really that worthless? Am I not worthy enough to wield Hylia’s great power?”

Her last cry cut the tether holding him down in place. He couldn’t stand by. Not anymore. The blonde set his sword down and descended the stone staircase.

Ice water surrounded him and he sucked in a sharp breath as he waded through the spring. How did she do this all the time?

“Link.” His pointed ears caught her whisper as she turned around. Her wide, green eyes locked onto his soft, blue ones as they reached for each other at the same time. Her legs gave out as she stepped toward him but Link was quick to wrap an arm under her knees and pull her against him.

Her lips were as blue as the fading sky and her face was paler than the color of snow.

I knew I should have pulled her out sooner. Link gritted his teeth as he internally kicked himself. If she developed hypothermia he’d never forgive himself.

A sob racked its way up her throat and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Link, I-I’m sorry.” She wiped away a stream of tears with her palm. “I feel nothing-”

The knight shook his head, tightening his arms around her shivering form.

She worked so hard, he saw that. Every minute, every day, every hour. She was so dedicated to helping her people, that was what mattered. His chest ached… he wished he could tell her he disagreed with her father’s harsh remarks on her and her training. He wanted to tell her that she was more than a princess to him.

That he loved her.

The thought sent his heart in a frantic spiral. He had broken the biggest rule of all. He had taken a hammer and shattered it with little regret—if any at all.

‘Don’t have any personal relations with the princess, it’s strictly professional. For your only duty is to protect her. It is treason otherwise.’ His captain’s words echoed through his ears. In other words, he warned not to fall for the princess.

But Link didn’t just fall, he stumbled into the inevitable chasm and hit the ground rolling. Which… how could he not? There had to be some exception to that rule because lust wasn’t his driving force, no, he was undoubtedly and truly in love with her.

His father would be ashamed of him—-well the knight side of his father anyway. His captain would absolutely be ashamed of him. Though, Link couldn’t find it in him to care.

He’d tell her, but first he had to make sure she didn’t freeze to death.

Link set her down by the tent he had assembled prior to Zelda’s training. He rummaged through his bag before he handed her a set of her warm winter clothes, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

She sniffled and nodded once. A few wet strands of gold falling into her defeated eyes. He fought the urge to brush it behind her pointed ears.

While she changed, Link picked up his pile of wood to create a makeshift fire. He pulled out a piece of flint from his bag and struck a stray rock against it, creating a spark that fueled the flames.

He tossed a few more sticks in the fire.

”Where should I…?” Link turned toward Zelda’s voice, his eyes softening upon meeting her own. She was standing with her ceremonial dress in her hands; Water droplets dripped from its ruffled edges.

He took the dress from her grasp and gestured toward the orange flames.

”The fire…” he murmured.

”Oh yes, of course. Thank you.”

Link nodded as he laid the dress on the stone—out of reach from the falling snow. He reached into his bag once more, grabbing a spare set of his clothes. He found a secluded area and peeled his tunic off his torso.

The freezing air pierced his skin, making him wince. He seriously didn’t understand how Zelda had done this the last four nights. He would have a word with the king, this wasn’t safe at all.

If he had a daughter, he’d never treat her the way Rhoam treated Zelda and he certainly wouldn’t force her train relentlessly in the frozen mountain with no support or praise. No, if he had kids they would be supported to no end.

Link fastened his spare pair of boots and in little to no time he returned to the camp.

His blue eyes flicked to Zelda who sat on one of the stones near the fire. Color had returned to her face and her lips were back to its pink tint. Her eyes were locked on the dancing flames and her brows were scrunched together.

Oh how badly he desired to see an ounce of her smile. He missed it. Terribly. But with the calamity looming near and the weight of their burdens nearly crushing them, the rarity of the emerald eyed blonde cracking a smile had multiplied tenfold.

Link swallowed and cleared his throat before speaking. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth… voicing his thoughts still wasn’t his strong suit but he’d do it for her.

“Princess. There’s nothing wrong with you,” he finally spoke, wrapping a wool blanket around her shoulders. His forearms rested on his knees as he stared at her.

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Link.” She shook her head, averting his gaze. She let out a sniffle before continuing. “I fear I won’t be able to help you when… when the time comes and you’ll- you’ll die because I didn’t train hard enough. All the great princesses before me were able to unlock it! I’m the only one who-“ She grimaced. “Who hasn’t.” More sniffles. “So there has to be only one explanation. There must be something wrong with…”

His thumb brushed her tears away. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, allowing his hand to linger for a few more seconds.

New tears shimmered in her viridescent gaze. ”You really believe that?”

He nodded, though he noticed her gaze drop and the subtle frown on her lips. She was still unsure or she wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

Link moved to sit next to her. His arm brushed against hers, making his heart flutter. He cleared his throat as he leaned back against the wall.

“Yes, Zelda, I really believe it…. I believe in you. And even if your powers don’t come, we’ll be okay. We’ll find another way.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

Their eyes met and she raised her eyebrows as her lips twitched into a smile. The blonde knight returned it; her smiles were extremely contagious… to him at least.

“Thank you Link.”

He gave her a nod before shifting his gaze to the flickering flames. They sat in a peaceful silence until Zelda rested her head on his shoulder. Link’s muscles tensed as her hair brushed against his cheek.

“Sorry- I hope this is okay.”

Link nodded—-the only response he could give at the moment. He really, really hoped she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

After a few moments she shifted and she shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He found himself asking.

“What?” She pulled away to look at him. “No- I’m fine. It’s just cold.” She shivered again and Link hesitantly opened his arms as he averted her emerald gaze.

Seconds seemed like minutes. Blood rushed to Link’s ears.

Why did I do that? I’m crossing a line-

Zelda wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, sending every blood cell to his head.

Oh what am I doing?

He battled his thoughts, insisting he was only protecting her from the harsh cold. Because that's all it had to be. Nothing more nothing less.

“I’m thinking about too many things… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” she murmured.

“You need your strength.”

She let out an airy chuckle. “I guess…. When do you sleep though? I never see you sleep.” Link shook his head. Always the curious one.

“Please try,” he responded to which Zelda sighed.

“Fine.”

Sleep wasn’t something Link had often, even when he was younger. He remembered his mother would check on him and his sister, Aryll, to make sure they were asleep. She always found him wide awake, looking out the window into the starry night sky.

She’d ask him ‘what’s wrong’ and he’d say ‘I can’t sleep’. She’d then sit on his neatly kept bed and say, ‘You get this from your father.’

Link always found that funny, he never believed it because his old man always snored at this time of night and slept until the birds stopped chirping. No way he could’ve had trouble sleeping at Link’s age.

His mom would pat his bed, tuck him in, and she’d start to sing. There were no words to the song, only the melody. As a child, this never failed to ease him into a peaceful slumber. So maybe…

Link closed his eyes and started to hum. His voice was soft as he sang the lullaby, the one that shared Zelda’s name. It was actually his favorite.

His hum carried in the slight breeze. He wished there was a way to stop time so they could stay in this moment forever without a worry in the world.

Zelda’s breaths slowed and her grip on his waist eventually loosened as the sweet melody came to an end.

Link opened his eyes and let his gaze drop to the sleeping princess.

He’d protect her with his dying breath, that was a promise.

The knight leaned down to lightly kiss the top of her blonde hair as if to seal the vow.

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Zelink masterlist

[butterfliesareamyth]

I wonder if good students who are also good people and are okay in their head actually exist.

Or if they're just a myth that teachers tell us about.