#i woke up and this was the first coherent thought i had

[redplanetlobster]

I actually went through a couple different Fears for Jason before I settled on the Buried. Most of them I dismissed because I felt Jason would be more likely to be a victim of them than on Avatar (I mean the Buried isn't much different but there're a lot of ways I think Jason can enact the fear, unlike the others I thought about). The Slaughter wasn't actually one though, senseless killing definitely isn't his style. The Hunt definitely could be though. The pursuit of a goal that, once achieved (if it ever could be in the first place), would leave him still searching, still wanting, and ultimately unsatisfied? That sounds like him wanting the Joker dead but refusing to do it himself. That sounds like his wanting of Bruce's approval without the willingness to change himself. That sounds like his fruitless goal of ending crime and violence with crime and violence.

Some of the other Fears I thought about:

Flesh: I'm a huge fan of the hc that Jason has some wild body dysmorphia after his dip in the pit (plus the Flesh is my favorite fear). Unfortunately not many things for him to torture other people with. His low self esteem maybe?

Lonely: Jason woke up in a world that had moved on without him. Everything was different: his family, his city, hell even the Manor was different due to the events of No Mans Land. I wouldn't fault him for feeling completely isolated as the world, as he knew it, just doesn't exist. (I've got a note somewhere in my docs about a fic where Jason gets put on Martin's/a Lonely domain in general. The domain is just the empty Manor (rebuilt after No Mans Land, so remodeled somewhat) with people leaving rooms just before Jason entered because they heard him coming and just couldn't stand to be anywhere close to him for one reason or another)

Web: Jason absolutely loves making plans and getting other people to follow them unknowingly. The entirety of UtRH he was kicking his feet and giggling every time Bruce did the exact thing here planned for.

End: He died. He's literally a zombie. There's not much more to it than that, pretty basic lol. Ultimately, I don't think Jason is patient enough to be an End Avatar.

Now the reasons I think the Buried fits him best (the bullet points are only a suggestion of putting this into coherent ramblings with separate ideas and reasoning lol):

The thought of a man, deathly claustrophobic and physically can't stand the scent of wet earth because it reminds him of the time he had to claw himself out of his own grave, having to dedicate himself to the concept of being buried alive in order to survive is very funny to me. When the thought first occurred to me I had a little chuckle to myself before actually I took a second to think about it.

I think the influence of the Buried would have been with him for his entire life. He grew up in poverty and was orphaned and homeless at a very young age. Jason is very and always has been very aware that the only way for him to go in life is down. Sometimes it is better to be dead.

During his tenure at the Manor, Jason never thought of it as relief from his hardships of the streets. He was just trading them out for new ones. After all, the only reason Bruce took him in was so Batman could have a Robin right? When he couldn't be a good son for Bruce he couldn't be a good Robin and if he wasn't Robin he didn't have a place in Bruce's house now did he?

Robin itself brings a whole lot of weight on its own. Jason was handed the mantle of the first sidekick and told that he could fill his shoes, that he might even be better. He was handed a mask at 13 and told that he was one of the few people standing between a city and its death and destruction.

Warehouses are quite heavy and asphyxiation sounds like a horrible way to go.

Jason had to dig his way out of his own coffin while still suffering from all of the injuries of his death.

Uhhh... I don't really have anything for Lost Days or the UtRH arc. Mainly 'cause those feel like they go pretty firmly into the reasons for Jason to be an Avatar of the Hunt.

When Jason chose to go back to Crime Alley he also chose to take on the weight of it. He chose to take the many problems of his people, many of which you can't actually solve with a gun, make them his problems. He chose to make those problems his.

Jason returned to the Alley, the first place he felt the oppressive but comforting weight of it, and did the only thing he knew how. He went down and shouldered the responsibility of fighting against the system that doomed his home.

Those last two bullet points are dangerously close to me fully writing this au out/getting really into the changes that I think Avatarhood would have on Jason and how I think he would feed on the fear, so I need to stop here. But yeah, I really think that the Buried fits Jason very well.

I've some very sophisticated thoughts about a TMA and Batman crossover but if you ask me any questions about it I'll only be able to tell you about Buried Avatar Jason.

[auriannaventiwithcaramel]

nerdy prudes are bi

nerdy prudes are bi

every nerdy prude's into girls and also guys

bisexuals arise

not really a surprise

nerdy prudes, whether king or queen

or in between

you're in their dating scene

[fanatic564]

Someone: I thought bats don't kill.

Alfred: I am not a bat. I am simply a friend with a shotgun.

[evevoli]

happy father's day to the dead dad in welly boots only tbh

[dragonartist56]

RIP 2020 DreamSMP you would’ve loved Karma by Jojo Siwa🫡

[thethingything]

we have an especially bad migraine where I noticed us getting aura (mostly being pissed off and upset in a specific way) for several hours before it started and we've taken pain meds but I'm not sure they've actually helped. they have definitely given us side effects though and I feel very spaced out and nauseous and generally shit.

we've also had way worse ADHD symptoms for the last few days to the point of being pretty much unable to focus on anything besides like 2 things we've hyperfixated on. we've had so much trouble starting tasks and keep struggling to hold a train of thought or focus long enough to even figure out what we need to do each day despite having all our Habitica dailies to tell us.

our brain is all over the place and I'm not really sure what to do with it or what would help but it's just occurred to me that sometimes our ADHD gets really bad in the buildup to some of our worst migraines and now I'm just hoping that both the migraine and other shit ease off soon because I'd like to be able to function

[emma-is-swaggy-and-epic]

So you know how she-ra and he-man are canonically siblings in the original cartoons? (Twins iirc)

Now i've never watched the original shera OR the reboot so as far as i'm concerned, they never bring up heman in the reboot

....do you think that somewhere in the reboot universe, there's just a version of heman and the gang just hanging around doing god knows what.....do you think they'd all be equally as gay as the shera cast????

[lightwing-s]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader

It must’ve been early when the knocking woke you up. Rolling in the warmth of the bed, you struggled to get up and once you did, you walked towards the door on pure muscle memory, still too tired to proceed with any coherent thoughts.

You opened it automatically, rubbing your heavy eyes and letting out a yawn.

“Ghost, Price and I were thinking that maybe…” you heard a voice you faintly remembered blurt out words you vaguely put together. “Yn? What are you doing in Simon's room?”

Freezing at the spot, your eyes dart open, as wide as they could possibly be, and a burst of energy runs through your body, making your mind jolt alight, finally deciding to work.

“Fuck.” you whisper, as you could hear the sound of objects falling and stumbling steps rushing to your side. Simon, still shirtless, holding up his loose sweatpants and whose mask had been clumsy put on, only one of his eyes properly fitting through it’s proper hole, arrived beside you breathlessly, pulling Gaz into the room and closing the door immediately thereafter.

Pushing the Sergeant onto the unmade bed, it took him a moment to catch his breath, spinning around on the same spot on the floor. He had fixed his mask, and the moment his eyes caught yours you could clearly understand his message.

We’re fucked.

Your eyes were restless, moving from Simon and Gaz so quickly it was making you dizzy. Your hands tugged at Simon’s shirt, dressing you like a dress, but barely covering your legs, ones you were not used to exposing in front of your comrades.

It was awkward, this whole situation an awkward mess you had put you all in.

I’m sorry, you mouthed and pleaded with your eyes as Simon stopped in front of you, his hands reaching for your arm, rubbing it warm, consoling you as much as he could as you two sulked in unwanted company.

“Can you two explain what’s going on?” asked your “guest”. Exchanging glances once more, you two fought over who would break him the news. “Or am I supposed to make my own conclusions?”

“‘S pretty obvious, innit?” Simon replied, dryly.

“I wanted to hear it from you, it looks too surreal.” he said, leaning back and straightening his position, a smirk spreading on his face, amusement evident in his eyes. “The Lt and Yn shagging.”

You looked back at Simon once more, his arms crossed on his chest making his biceps look twice their size, and his clear crunched jawline, probably planning three hundred different ways to murder his teammate. Touching his shoulder, you asked for allowance, watching as he considered the options before nodding in return.

“Gaz.” you called, catching his attention. “We’re married.”

Gaz’s head bobbed forward as his eyes almost jumped out of its socket, questioning the shocking news and his own reality. To confirm your words, showed him your hands, more specifically your ring finger, where a pair of letters, ‘SR’, were tattooed secretly on its side. The Lieutenant followed suit, uncrossing his arms to expose your initials drawn on the same spot in his ring finger. 

You two were married. Married, and no one in the base knew it. Hell, they didn’t even know you two had a thing for each other, was going through Gaz’s mind.

“Married?” he repeated, more an affirmation than a question, trying to process it in his head. “I can’t wait till Johnny knows it.”

“Johnny can’t know it.” you immediately cut him. “Please, Gaz. I-it’s…” private, you wanted to add, our lives. But a lump in your throat caught you, feeling everything you’d build crumbling down. 

You’d been so careful. You and Simon had taken every possible precaution since the first night you hooked up, not wanting anyone to find out your silly “mistake”, to the day of your wedding two years ago, the most important day in your entire life. And now the secret was done for, days counted even if Gaz were kind enough to keep it to himself.

“Private.” Gaz completed your words after a brief minute of silence, and the hope in your chest grew. “I get it. You know I’m not a snitch.” Standing up, he continued. “Your secret is safe with me.” and extending his hand towards your husband he wished. “Congratulations, Simon.”

Your husband, after second thoughts, shook Gaz’s hand in his, evident force used to make sure a warning was heard: you say anything, you’re dead. However, knowing him like no one else, you notice signs no one would, and the slight drop in his shoulder lets you know he trusted his Sergeant.

“Congratulations you too, Yn.” he turned to you, giving you a tight hug instead, lifting you off your feet for a brief moment before returning you to the floor. “Does this make me the best man over Johnny?”

Fishing for a pillow, Simon threw it straight into Gaz’s head as he rushed out of your room, giggles heading out with him. You too stood laughing, enjoying knowing your secret paradise wasn’t done for yet, and trying to calm down your sulking and annoyed husband.

.

a/n: short drabble to announce i'm now taking simon and other cod men requests ♡

[bbearthyy]

JJ and John B have shared everything since they were 8

~~~

this is just a lil something i was thinking about this morning and figured i could write to ring in the new year. it’s kinda short sorry😭

Smut!!! MDNI

they’d figured it out very quickly - how to share things. john b shared with jj because he could, jj shared with john b because he had to. they both knew this and were perfectly fine with it.

the first time jj slept over at the chateau they shared the bed. jj was supposed to sleep on the couch but there was a thunderstorm roaring outside, and the noise terrified him. jj poked his head into john b’s room seeking comfort and before he knew it he was waking up, cuddled so closely to john b in his small twin bed that it was hard for them to decipher where one ended and the other began. it became instinct at that point. every morning that they woke up together (which was almost every morning, as long as jj snuck back into his home before his dad awoke) john b would give jj his clothes to wear, and jj would give john b a hat to borrow. they shared a plate at breakfast when food was low, shared toothpaste, and of course all of john bs toys were jjs as well. and as they grew older they shared bigger things, such as their vehicles, beers, their surf boards, girls.

so it should come as no surprise that they had to share you. john b never understood how jj bagged a girl as pretty as you, but he couldn’t think too much on it right now. couldn’t think at all really. your back was pressed against his chest, arm reached behind you to jerk him off. your legs were spread wide, jj’s strong hands pinning your thighs to the bed as he ate you like a man starved. you didn’t think he could get any deeper, but john b reached out anyways, placing a firm hand on the back of jjs head and pushing, forcing jj to press even further into you. you wanted to pull away, worried that the blonde couldn’t breathe, but by the time you could grasp a coherent thought you were cumming. your juices spilled all over jjs face, meanwhile john bs hand kept him pressed into you, giving the blonde no where to go, not that he would’ve pulled away if he could. your hand kept stroking john bs thick cock even as your orgasm rushed through you, and he soon was cumming too, release spilling over your back. it was lucky your long hair was pulled up into an updo, otherwise it would’ve been ruined by john bs massive load.

you were still awake, fighting the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your eyes were fluttering shut. jj took note of this once he was able to pull back from your center, reaching a hand up to swiftly but gently tap the side of your face. “hey,” he mumbled, “don’t forget about me sweet girl. papa j needs some loving too.” he sealed the deal with a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before he pulled away. you giggled at his words, body going lax as he picked you up, laying you back onto the bed on your stomach beside john b. jj spread your legs, squeezing your thighs as a silent way of saying keep them open. john b laid down beside you, hand gently caressing your cheek and murmuring words of praise as jj stripped out of his shorts. your eyes had closed once more, relaxing under john bs gentle touch and kind words, but abruptly snapped right back open. jj has his thick cock in his hand, smacking the heavy tip against your clit. you moaned out, making the blonde chuckle. “oh baby,” he began, “i haven’t even done anything yet.” but it didn’t matter. because then he was reaching up with his other hand to grab your hip, the hand on his cock pushing it forward, forcing his way into your gummy walls. “fuck mama,” jj panted out, clearly wanting to say more but being unable to after feeling your wetness around him. the blonde began moving immediately, heavy sack smacking against your clit with every thrust. you were soaked, arousal spilling out all over jjs cock. his eyes rolled back into his head, hips slamming harder into yours. john b reached out, grabbing onto jjs hand to pull the boy back into reality. the blonde smiled gratefully, looking at his best friend, before his head turned towards yours. “‘m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[patchiko]

GIVE US MORE ABOUT NSFW AL JAYYY PLSSS

HRHSJSGAHS OKOK!!

NSFW Arkham Knight / Ak!Jason Todd !! <3

detailed smut !!

(wet dream, praise, soft sex 2 somewhat rough sex, not super long, , im so obsessed with his brain)

rq are open :3

‘tis under the cut!! :p

M’SO EXCITED TO WRITE MORE ABT HIM M’SHAKING AND THROWIFN UP

NGL, i think one of the only reason he would come to terms with liking someone is bc he had a wet dream…

listen,, 99% of his dreams are nightmares, and you just changed his fuckin statistics for the possibility to the 1% chance of him coming in his sleep and being able to rest well after.

he has mixed feeling abt this..

on one hand hes like ‘wow cool i get to sleep well,’ but on the other hands hes like staring at his boxers and hes like ‘but at what cost…’

but oh,, he just knew he was fucked when it first happened and he woke up

after many , many years of overthinking, and his mind not being able to shut up … the thing that made his ass get so quiet was a fuckin’ wet dream

uuhhggrr it was such a good one tooo (hes internally cringing so hard)

ONE hand in his hair, softly rubbing his scalp, the other massaging his shoulder to the base of his neck. Jason has both hands on your hips. Being so gentle yet passionate with each thrust, fighting back the nastiest sounds begging to leave his mouth. So he starts kissing you, open mouth kissing your jaw to just between where your neck and shoulders connect. The noises you start letting out make his breathing stutter for a second. His kissing gets more passionate, soft sucking at your skin, and he’s feverishly rubbing and grabbing at your hips.

The wet sounds of him fucking you get louder. Poor guy is just barely stopping himself from rutting into you. His strokes were slowly getting more rapid but nonetheless coordinated, hitting that spot that had you loudest. Jason was marginally coherent but he’s still trying his hardest to make you feel good. Your body returning the favor by squeezing him so lovingly and he just cant fight back the soft gasps he lets out in between his strokes. The wet sounds, the lewd noises, the details of your body and skin he felt every time he pushed into you. All of this just because of him, just for him? You babble to him how good he was doing, murmuring how good it feels between moans, and it has him gripping your hips.

JASONS rocking himself roughly into you, but its that ever so loving hand, still gently massaging his neck and scalp. That sensation has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Soft curses leaving his mouth. He buries his face right next to your head and has to grab the bed sheets just for an last attempt to stay composed. But the moaning gets louder, and you don’t stop gently massaging his hair.

So he can’t stop the “mmh, mmh, mmh” ‘s leaving his mouth with every rapid push of himself. He can’t stop the way his hands trail down to your legs to spread you wider for him. Grabbing at your thighs as he fucks himself through.

N’ just as he cums with a breathy gasp, his eyelashes are fluttering and eyes rolling to the back of his head. Letting his body weight press onto you and closing his eyes shut, trying to control his stammered breaths,,

he fuckin’ wakes up..!

First thought was “what the fuck.”

genuinely startled, he doesn’t freak out bad but he like slowly reaches to touch his pillow.

his mind was so blank, couldn’t tell if it was because of the wet spot on his sweatpants or he was genuinely so stunned.

*hes like scratching his head and looking at his pants.*

hes goes to take a shower and his eyes are so blown out he looks like one of those cat memes

but his mind is soo quiet,,

in my brain at the very back of his mind he’s like ‘whys there so much of it.’ HSIGSISHSISHSIDHS HES COMPLETELY SERIOUS TOO???

he’s taking a shower and his brain, oddly, isn’t foggy, not dissociating, just feels so here.

which is horrible because that means he really has to directly face his feelings

KRILLING MYSELF WHY IS HEART TO HEART PLAYING WHILE I WRITE THIS???

heart to heart, heart to heart, heart to heart <3

Next time he sees you he feels so odd, he knows it a natural thing that can happen.. but it was so

djsksnkdnd

tingling under his skin sensation is yelling at him to leave, and he does.

hes cringing

he likes you…

he cringes harder

ghosts you for awhile

realistically doesn’t want anything like that to happen ANYTIME soon

but is it weird that he kinda wants it to happen at all?

MENTAL GYMNASTICS COMMENCE !!

but when he stops ghosting you for awhile, and comes back to see you still being just as patient as you were every time you saw him before,

arms always open for him, food waiting for him, a sweet smile. and with your own patience, his own patience begins to thin.

Everytime he leaves you its a little harder for him to not come back

that tingly feeling under his skin slowly becomes a craving for just your presence. thats all he wants.

he doesn’t need to fuck you when he just has your eyes on him.

“what you run from is what you end up chasing.”

live footage of arkham knights brain cells falling for u insta reel

TEEHEE i loved writing this it was so fun, rq/inbox is open !! feedback is always appreciated >:3

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 4.9 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

twelve

tuesday, february 11th

being a good multitasker has always been one of those skills you prided yourself on. it was something you’d perfected over the years, something you needed in every facet of your life—being the responsible older sister, the student body president, the volunteer, the worker. juggling everything, keeping a hundred things on your mind, your to-do list, was second nature. it was just how you lived.

but all of that—every skill, every strategy, every ounce of focus—vanished the second rafe cameron kissed you 38 hours ago. you hadn’t been prepared for it, didn’t know it was possible for someone to completely scramble your mind, to set your body on fire with just the press of their lips. there are about 1,300 nerve endings per square inch of skin, and rafe had somehow activated every single one with that kiss. your brain chemistry had been rewritten, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t undo it.

it didn’t matter what you did, who you talked to, what you watched—you couldn’t escape him. his lips, his touch, haunted every thought, clung to every waking moment. he was embedded in your skin, in your mind, from the moment you woke up to the moment you closed your eyes. even then, your dreams had no mercy.

it only took a blink, and you were back in that room, rafe's arms around you, nipping your bottom lip, feeling his breathe mingle with yours, you could still feel how his chest felt whe you'd rested your hand on it, could still remember that little sound he'd made right before your mom burst into the room.

a little voice in the back of your head whispered the reason you were still thinking about it, why it was still playing on a loop in your head—you wanted more. you craved more, and it was consuming you, gnawing at the edges of every thought. more of rafe, more of that kiss, more of whatever this thing between you was.

"y/n," a sharp voice cut through your daydream, yanking you back to reality. startled, you blinked rapidly, your head jerking toward your english teacher. ivy, who had been carefully scribbling something in her notebook, glanced at you in confusion, noticing your delayed response to the question you hadn’t even heard.

"uh—yes?" you managed, trying to sound coherent despite the fog of your thoughts.

mrs. campbell raised a brow, her gaze expectant. "can you answer the question?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

you cleared your throat, scrambling to pull yourself together. the quiet shuffle of ivy’s book caught your attention, and you glanced over, spotting a small note tucked in the corner. 'meaning quote,' it said, the words a subtle lifeline as your mind scrambled to catch up. your gaze flickered to the blackboard behind mrs. campbell, and there it was—‘so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’

the words from the great gatsby stood out like a beacon. for a heartbeat, everything inside you went still. the weight of the room—the eyes on you, including mrs. campbell’s—felt like it was pressing down on your chest. but then, slowly, you straightened in your seat, drawing on a sliver of confidence, the reminder that you’d read this book twice now.

“i think…” you started, your voice shaky at first but growing steadier with each word. "he's saying that people are always fighting against things they can't control. like… no matter how hard we try to move forward, the past always pulls us back. our memories, our regrets, maybe even guilt—those are the currents he’s talking about."

there was a long pause as mrs. campbell studied you, her eyes sharp, weighing your answer. finally, she nodded, turning back to the class. "exactly. so what we can deduce from that is—" her voice trailed off as you tuned her out once again, giving a quiet nod of thanks to ivy.

"what's going on?" ivy whispered, her concern evident in the way she leaned in. it wasn’t like you to zone out like that, especially in class. "what did bootleg messi pull now?" she added, her voice light but teasing, and you smiled, turning back to the board but not before giving her a gentle shove. you heard her quiet giggle fill the space between you.

of course, you hadn’t told your friends about the kiss. that would’ve been like asking hazel to strangle you in front of everyone—which, knowing hazel, she’d probably do without hesitation.

you’d made it clear to them, especially to hazel, that you wouldn’t let him in, that you’d protect yourself from whatever this thing was. and yet, here you were—letting him all the way in. the situation would’ve been different if you had any plans to cut him off, but you didn’t. you wanted more. a lot more.

when class ended and you found yourself standing by devon's locker, waiting for her to dig around for her chemistry book, your mind drifted again. was this normal? did everyone feel this kind of almost desperate withdrawal after something as simple as a kiss? it felt ridiculous to admit, but you were completely disheveled by a boy. by a kiss. a damn good kiss.

"ready?" hazel's voice pulled you from your thoughts, her tone a little sharper now that devon had finally shoved her book into her backpack and nodded in agreement. without thinking, you looped your arm through hazel's as the four of you started walking out of school. "did you ever hear back from that angry customer?" you asked absently, your mind still somewhere else.

hazel hummed in acknowledgment, then chuckled, "yeah, she reached out to customer service, and guess what they told her?"

"the exact same thing you told her?" you guessed, grinning, and hazel gave a quick nod, her lips curling into a smirk. "yup," she said, popping the p in ‘yup’ like it was the final nail in the coffin.

your small smile faltered when you stepped outside the building and saw what was unfolding in front of you. "what is going on?" ivy's voice was filled with confusion, and you couldn’t help but feel the same.

rafe and topper were in the middle of what looked like a heated verbal argument. you and everyone else could see the anger between them, but the exact context was lost in the shuffle of their raised voices. their friends had formed a circle around them, trying desperately to intervene, but it was obvious nothing was getting through. rafe kept attempting to walk away, but topper blocked him each time.

on rafe's third attempt, he finally shoved topper, who stumbled but quickly regained his balance. before he could do anything else, kiara stepped in, her face furious as she shoved topper back, shouting ‘enough’ and ‘stop’ in his face with an intensity that made the entire scene feel dangerously close to something more.

rafe took the opportunity to break free, even though his friends were trying to stop him. it was clear where he was headed, though—straight toward you.

hazel's voice was low and confused. "is he coming over here?" she muttered, and you could see rafe’s friends trailing behind him, likely to make sure he was okay.

you started walking toward rafe to meet him halfway, your voice sharp with tension. "what are you doing?" you asked before he even reached you. there was no way he was about to start something in front of half the school.

"come with me," rafe said, his tone brokering no argument, the command obvious in his words. "i'm driving you home."

"rafe—" you tried to protest, but before you could finish, john b’s hand landed on rafe's shoulder, his voice urging him. "rafe, c'mon—"

rafe spun around to face his friend, irritation clear in his expression. "i’m not in the fucking mood to deal with him, alright?" he snapped, not bothering to wait for a reply before grabbing your wrist and tugging you along with him.

"rafe, slow down—" you tried to keep up, your steps faltering as you struggled to stay with him. "rafe, i came on my bike, i can’t just—"

"i'll pick you up in the morning," he interrupted, his voice as firm as steel, cutting off any further protests. before you could argue, he flung open the passenger door, blocking you in the small space between the car and the door. it was clear what he wanted: you had two choices—get in or physically fight this six-foot-tall athlete who wasn’t giving an inch.

his jaw was clenched tight, his posture rigid, and you felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the anger right off his face. you could feel the intensity building inside you, the heat of the moment becoming unbearable. it was that urge—raw and undeniable—that finally made you climb into the car. a few more seconds of standing there, and you knew you would’ve done it, would’ve kissed him and made everything even more complicated than it already was.

he doesn’t say a word as the car hums to life, just starts driving with a tense grip on the wheel, his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap. you're left staring at him in disbelief, the weight of what just happened sinking in. was that real?

you can tell something’s wrong when he moves his hand from the gear stick to the steering wheel, and you notice his hand trembling—just slightly, but enough to make your heart skip. “rafe,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper as your hand moves toward his. the second your fingers brush his skin, his whole body tightens, and he pulls his hand away like you’ve burned him. “not when i’m driving,” he snaps, the coldness in his tone like a slap to your chest.

you watch him, sadness pulling at your chest, and slump back into the seat, the air between you two thick with tension. only then do you feel the sharp throb in your feet, the pain from the new shoes you’d barely managed to keep on all day. you shift your bag aside and carefully pop your heel out of your patent black ballet flats. they were new, from steve madden, whose shoes were designed with a particular vendetta against women’s feet. blisters were basically guaranteed.

you wince at the sight of the angry bubble forming on the back of your heel, and despite the sharp sting, you already find yourself daydreaming about soaking in a hot bath tonight, the relief already calling your name.

"what?" rafe’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up at him, unsure what he’s seeing. "what? nothing." you frown, sitting up a little straighter.

his eyes flick back to the road, but his tone softens just a little. "you're in pain. you just winced. what's wrong?"

you shake your head, dismissing his concern as you try to shove the discomfort aside. "i have new shoes on. just a blister." you try to brush it off, but when the car stops at a red light, you notice rafe’s eyes flicking down to your feet.

"take them off," he says, almost like an order, but you hesitate. how were you supposed to relax your blistered feet in his car without feeling weird about it? and how was he not disgusted?

"no, that’s not proper. it's okay," you tell him, your voice a little shaky. he rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"you're gonna make me do it?" he mutters, but before you can answer, he’s already leaning across the seat, his hand reaching for your shoes, completely ignoring your protest.

"rafe!" you gasp, startled as you kick your feet, trying to push him away, but he grips your shoe like it’s his personal mission to take them off. the light turns green, and you panic, "rafe, stop, the light turned green!" you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s relentless, fighting you for your second shoe even as the cars behind honk impatiently.

finally, he lets go, and with both of your shoes in hand, he tosses them casually into the backseat as if nothing had happened, his eyes back on the road like the whole scene had been completely normal.

"you know you’re insane?" you mutter after a beat, disbelief creeping into your voice. rafe’s lips press together, his eyes still focused ahead.

"i have very little patience today," he mutters under his breath as he pulls into your street. the reminder of his earlier anger stirs a knot in your stomach, and you hesitate, wondering if you should ask what happened. but you don’t—prodding him further would only make things worse.

he parks his car and you reach behind to find your shoes he carelessly threw to the back but before you can, he's opening the backdoor and grabbing them. you blink when he slams the door shut and leaves you with no shoes.

you're just about to open the door, ready to ask him for your shoes, when the door swings open and rafe scoops you up into his arms. "rafe, what are you doing?" you ask, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck for support.

"i'm skydiving, obviously." he says flatly and with one swift kick, he shuts the door behind him, then presses the button on his car keys to lock it.

you can't help but grimace at his sarcasm. "you're just being so lovely today," you mutter, offering him a fake smile. he smirks in response, clearly enjoying this. before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, rummaging through your bag for the keys.

"i am, aren't i? and you really don't deserve it since you've been avoiding me," he says, a small edge to his voice, his tone playful but with something else lingering under the surface.

your cheeks flush, the heat creeping up as you finally manage to unlock the door. "i… h—"

"whenever you do that, that subtle hesitation," he interrupts, his voice suddenly serious, "you're about to lie. have you ever noticed that?"

your eyes widen as he gently sets you down on your feet, his words making you feel caught off guard.

"i mean, i'm saying it to help you," he continues, "when you become president, you can't be caught lying this easily."

you let out a soft sigh, the warmth of embarrassment spreading across your face. you cover your face for a moment, feeling exposed. "i'm sorry," you murmur, the sincerity in your voice not lost on him.

he shakes his head, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, grounding you. "i looked it up. i think it's a defense mechanism."

your jaw drops just a little, surprised that rafe, of all people, has done research for you. research was your thing.

"you don't like confrontation," he continues, his voice calm, "and you don't like dealing with your emotions. you like things you can control and predict and feelings are probably the most unpredictable and uncontrollable things we experience. i think you're willing to do a lot to avoid those two things, including lying."

it’s a strange feeling, to be psychoanalyzed this way, the way you so often do to others. you’re not used to being the one on the receiving end of this kind of observation.

his hands shift from your shoulders to cradle your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks in a tender, almost reverent way. "i can feel that you're afraid."

"is it that obvious?" you whisper, your heart fluttering as your nose brushes against his, the proximity making your breath hitch.

he nods slowly, his lips just inches from yours. "just can't figure out why," he murmurs, his voice low and soft. then, with a gentle teasing bite, he nips at your bottom lip.

you want to tell him why, to explain the gnawing feeling in your gut that something is bound to go wrong, that eventually, he’s going to break your heart. but you don’t say that. because, well…

you're a liar.

"i've never done this," you begin, your words rushing out in a nervous ramble, "i… i avoided you because i didn’t even know how to look at you anymore after sunday."

your hands fidget nervously, eyes darting around as you feel the panic rise. "i watched…" you hesitate, unsure how to say it. "..adult content yesterday," you whisper it like it's a secret, "and it was so scary. i almost broke my laptop from how hard i tossed it off my bed." your voice is barely above a murmur, and rafe’s eyes widen in amusement.

he starts laughing, shaking his head as you quickly look around, despite knowing no one will be home for another hour.

"you watched po—"

"don't say it!" you hiss, your cheeks burning at the thought.

he’s still laughing, amusement dancing in his eyes as he pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "c'mon," he says, his tone light but insistent as he takes your hand. "let’s go."

you let him lead you up the stairs, your nerves gnawing at you. you're unsure what’s next, what’s going to happen between the two of you. but that's what being with rafe always feels like—you never see anything coming with him.

you both settle on your bed, the quiet hum of the room filling the space between you. you sit cross-legged while he turns toward you, his gaze steady and soft, as though he’s trying to convey everything without saying a word. then, his voice breaks the silence, low and calm, like a soothing balm.

he looks at you and the distance you've put between the two of you. “firstly, you have nothing to be afraid of,” he says, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. with an easy pull, he brings you closer until your leg is draped over his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. i just want you to feel good—feel okay. we’ll go at your pace, yeah? wherever you lead me.”

his words settle over you like a promise, steady and unyielding. you nod hesitantly, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap. “i think… we can take it slow, right?” your voice is quiet, unsure, as you glance down.

he tilts his head forward, his forehead brushing against yours, forcing you to meet his eyes. “course,” he murmurs, the weight of his sincerity making you exhale softly.

with tentative fingers, you reach up, your thumb grazing over his lips in an almost reverent motion. “i don’t know anything,” you admit, the words slipping out like a secret.

his smile softens, a small, reassuring thing that makes your chest tighten. “m’ here,” he mutters, his hand resting gently on your waist. “i’ll help you, just like you help me.”

and what was the harm in this? something quiet and undefined, not quite a relationship, but not nothing either. it felt safe—like an agreement between the two of you, unspoken but understood.

“like… comparative advantage,” you murmur, your voice still soft but gaining a touch of animation.

he raises a brow, clearly unsure where you’re going with this.

“comparative advantage,” you repeat, lips brushing against his. “it’s when countries—or even people—specialize in what they’re relatively best at. it’s about focusing on what they can produce most efficiently, with fewer resources or less effort, instead of trying to do everything.”

he blinks, his head tilting slightly as he considers your explanation. “you know what i find fascinating?” he asks, his voice carrying a quiet, teasing warmth.

you hum, encouraging him to continue, a small smile already playing on your lips.

“the more you ramble about shit i don’t understand, the more attractive i find you,” he says, his tone light but earnest.

a laugh bubbles out of you, your heart racing as he dips his head, pressing playful kisses along your neck. “tell me more!” he demands, his hands sliding around your waist and tugging you closer.

you giggle, your arms looping around his neck as your mind scrambles to find something—anything—to say. “uhhh… oh! i was just reading about nuclear fusion!”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his brows raising in amused curiosity.

“it’s when two lighter atomic nuclei combine to form a heavier one,” you explain, your voice picking up speed. “and it releases a ton of energy in the process. that reaction—it’s the same one that powers the sun and stars. isn’t that wild?”

“so wild,” he hums thoughtfully, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. the gentle contact almost derails your train of thought, but you push forward, determined to finish your point. “and what’s even more fascinating is that the ingredients—deuterium, which comes from seawater, and tritium, which can be bred from lithium—are virtually inexhaustible. it’s sustainable energy, rafe. the potential is endless.”

he hums again, his lips brushing along your jawline, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “that’s very interesting. tell me something else,” he urges, pulling you fully into his lap, his hands steadying you like you belonged there.

you can’t stop smiling now, your head tipping back as his lips find the curve of your neck. “mmm… did you know that some theorists believe modern politics has moved beyond traditional ideologies like communism or liberalism?”

“had no idea,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but attentive, his focus clearly divided between your words and the way you react to his touch.

“they think political life is more about pragmatic management and technocratic governance now,” you continue, your voice gaining a touch of excitement. “and like, look at italy or greece. during their financial crises, they elected experts—economists, and engineers—as politicians. moving toward different kinds of ideologies has such detrimental changes for people like you and i so the fact that it's actually happening just blows my mind. isn’t it crazy?”

he pulls back just slightly, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile as he meets your eyes again. “crazy,” he agrees, though the glint in his gaze tells you he’s not entirely focused on the politics you’re rambling about.

but you don’t care. because in this moment, heaven looks like a boy who lets you ramble about the chaos in your mind while kissing you silly and what could possibly be better than this?

"how does your brain store so much?" he mutters, his voice low and laced with genuine curiosity. his fingers brush absently against your skin as he pulls back to look at you.

you grin, shrugging lightly. "i think it’s easy to remember things you find interesting. how many soccer players do you know by name?" you counter, raising a brow.

he nods with a lopsided smirk, conceding the point. "got me there," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on you. something shifts in the way he’s looking—soft but heated, like he’s cataloging every detail. his hair is tousled from your hands, his lips swollen from the past few minutes of losing himself in you, and those dark, dilated pupils seem to see through you entirely. he looks utterly undone and so painfully perfect that it makes your heart stutter.

you hesitate for a moment, nerves battling the growing pull toward him, before slowly shrugging off your knit cardigan. the weight of his eyes doesn’t falter as you tug the fabric from your shoulders. it’s not the cold air against your skin that makes you shiver—it’s him, the way his gaze turns unreadable, intense.

as your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, you lift it inch by inch, exposing your tank top underneath. you tug it into place as the strap—too loose and stretched from wear—slips down your shoulder. his gaze snaps to that small sliver of bare skin, and you swear you see his jaw tighten.

your breaths come slower, more measured, as you reach up to push the other strap down, your fingers trembling slightly. just as it slips, his hand darts out, stopping you gently but firmly.

"you don’t want—" the words tumble out of you in a rush, panic and self-doubt crashing in like waves.

"of course, i do," he interrupts, his voice immediate, steady, grounding. "course, i want you. i want this." his thumb brushes featherlight over your shoulder as he leans in to pull the strap back into place. the gesture feels like both a reverence and a reassurance, and your chest tightens at the tenderness of it.

"but," he continues, his tone soft but deliberate, "ten minutes ago, you asked me to go slow. and just before that, you couldn’t even handle me saying the word 'porn' in your presence." the corner of his mouth quirks up in that teasing way that feels like it’s meant to defuse the tension.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh, one that eases some of the nerves still coiled in your chest. "mm, okay. true." you slide off his lap reluctantly, preparing to create some space, but he doesn’t let you go far. his hand catches yours, tugging you back into place.

"but," he says again, this time a whisper that dances between the two of you, heavy with promise, "we can do what we did last week…" his free hand trails up, his fingers brushing your hair back. his lips find yours, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch setting your skin aflame. "and maybe a little more."

his words linger against your lips as he kisses you again, this time deeper, and you melt into him. your feel weak, and you’re grateful for his arms around you, steadying you, keeping you grounded. for now, you’re here, with him, the rest of the world fading into an unimportant blur.

your lips finally meet, and the sensation is overwhelming, a fever spreading through your body as heat blooms beneath your skin. every nerve feels alive, crackling with electricity as your fingers instinctively thread through his hair, your grip hesitant at first but growing firmer as his hands find your waist, pulling you closer like he can’t bear to let you slip away.

the kiss is everything—more than last week, deeper, more intense. his teeth graze your bottom lip, and your body arches toward him involuntarily, a soft whine escaping before you can stop it. he takes the opportunity to part your lips, his tongue sliding against yours with a confidence that makes you melt. you know he can tell you’re inexperienced, his movements deliberate, guiding you like he’s speaking a secret language through touch alone, teaching you how to follow his lead.

as the moments pass, you start to understand—how to move, how to meet his rhythm, how to make it good for him. the realization that you’re succeeding comes when he lets out a soft groan, the sound low and raw and entirely new. it’s exhilarating, uncovering pieces of him no one else has, learning what makes him tick.

you pull back just enough to breathe, gasping softly as his lips trail after yours, placing feather-light kisses that leave you dizzy. before you can steady yourself, he shifts his attention, lips brushing down your neck. at first, you think it’ll be sweet, the same soft kisses from earlier, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

his mouth turns ravenous against your skin, nipping and sucking with a ferocity that leaves you reeling. your body tenses at the sudden intensity, a flood of pleasure replacing the brief surprise. soft moans spill from your lips, unbidden, and your hands tug at his hair, urging him closer as his mouth maps every inch of your neck.

"rafe…" you exhale, the name slipping out in a breathy whisper as he continues his assault, each kiss igniting something deeper inside you. he’s relentless, leaving no spot untouched, and while your brain tries to remind you to tell him not to leave marks, your body doesn’t care. you’re too far gone, too wrapped up in the moment to consider future consequences.

he has you completely undone, your body pliant under his touch, and when your hips buck against him without permission, he freezes. slowly, he pulls back, his breath heavy as his eyes meet yours. they’re dark, hazy with desire, yet tinged with restraint. "alright," he murmurs, his voice low and strained. "that’s good… think we’re getting a bit carried away."

the rational part of you knows he’s right, but the part of you currently tangled up with the most magnetic boy you’ve ever known? that part couldn’t care less.

"uh huh.." you're nodding as if you agree even though your lips are finding his again, hungrier this time, desperation spilling into every kiss. you can’t bear the thought of letting him go, the taste of him too intoxicating to resist. his hands come to your shoulders, trying to steady you, but the moment he pulls back, the beginnings of a warning on his lips, you silence him with another kiss, deeper this time, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. and for a moment, he lets go—he kisses back with a force that steals the air from your lungs. his resistance crumbles beneath the weight of his own desire, the kind of need that’s buried so deep it aches to surface. his lips move against yours, his hands trailing to your waist as if he’s forgotten why he should stop, as if it’s impossible for him to resist, and he doesn’t—at least, not right away.

you’re insatiable, your thoughts scattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. but rafe pulls back again, this time with a sharp, frustrated breath, and gently moves you from his lap onto the bed, standing so quickly it feels like he’s trying to physically distance himself from the tension.

he runs a hand through his tousled hair, pacing toward your desk. "slow," he says, his voice strained, almost pleading now. "we just said slow." the firmness in his tone doesn’t mask the desire still lingering in his eyes, a battle between restraint and something far more primal.

you’re left sitting there, panting softly, your body alight with sensations you’ve never felt before. your mind is racing, flickering like a switchboard as you replay every moment. how were you supposed to be patient now, knowing what his touch felt like, knowing how easily he could unravel you? waiting even a day, a moment longer, feels impossible.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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[endereies]

BREAK UP DRUG - MS - PART 2

No Nut November - Day 23

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When you stay over at the triplet's house, you confront Matt

Part 1

“He what.” You were sat down in between Nick and Chris, tears forming in your eyes anytime you uttered his name.

“He didn’t even say why! Just that he couldn’t tell me. Did I do something?” Solemn gasps pass your lips as you begin to sob once more. It didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Skin had been scratched on your wrists, a sign of the failed grasp you had on him. It was just too much now.

The brothers gave a knowing glance to each other while you sniffled into your jumper. For the first time in months, it wasn’t Matt’s.

“D-do either of you know why…?” The look on your face shattered them, of course they knew why, but like Matt, they couldn’t tell you. “I’m sorry, we have no idea, we can try and talk with him?”

Nick’s voice was promising, a chance to get an explanation, anything. That was enough for now. Chris quickly got up to grab some tissues and chocolate he had stored in the fridge and handed it to you. With gratitude, you smiled up at him. Your voice couldn’t be trusted to be coherent.

Eventually, you fell silent, laying against the cushions of the couch. Sniffles grew quiet and you just stared at nothing. Chris and Nick were alongside you the entire time but they knew you needed space.

“Hey…kid? Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Soft eyes looked up to Nick as he offered you a safe space. “Shouldn’t I get home, what about Matt?”

“He said he was busy tonight, but it is up to you.”

The nails of your fingers protruded the underneath of others as you came to a decision. It was like part of you wanted to leave this place and never come back, but it was all you knew. Your home felt a little too empty, too quiet. “Yes please…”

“Alright, you know where everything is, I’ll see you in the morning.” The triplet just looked at you pitifully, not envying you situations.

Hours flew by and by surprise, you fell asleep. The comfort in familiarity brought you to ease. Until voices woke you up.

“Are you fucking serious, Matt! You love that girl. You didn’t think to talk to either of us about it?” It was Chris, angry. Matt’s name sobered your thoughts, and you sat up quickly. Surely you were still dreaming…

Nick lied peacefully beside you, his glasses shining against the hallway light. It fell silent until Matt spoke up.

“Of course I love her, do you think I fucking stopped? I was prepared to do anything for her, so I did.” He didn’t sound like himself, it was sharper.

“So, you thought that shoving her away and into the dark was the best choice?”

“It was either that or Arlo would do some shit, he knows about her Chris. I let the relationship get into my head and I’ve jeopardised her safety.” It was obvious it was about you, one thing that Matt wasn’t was disloyal.

“You chose your little drug group over her; do you know how pathetic that is.”

That made your chest ache. Drugs? He was always clean; he never gave you a reason to think otherwise. Matt was always so adamant about not letting you near them. Maybe it was because he knew what it did to people first hand.

“That is one of our only incomes, but that’s not the point.” The voices grew louder as you grew closer.

“Then what is! Tell me Matt, because I have spent the past three hours consoling her because of you.” Matt stammered before responding.

“She is! Y/n is the point, if she was kept near me, she’d become a target, you know what they are like. If they find out that she is the reason why I’ve fucked up so many times… I don’t want her hurt.”

You now stood at the entrance of the kitchen, staring at the two brothers. Chris was pissed, and disappointed. Although that was easy to tell by their voices. Matt had a stray tear fall down his cheek. You never saw him sad, not around you at least. Was there a reason?

“Matt?”

Both the boys perked up at your voice. Chris was more stunned than Matt was, he smiled at you before walking out the room, grabbing a stray can of Pepsi as he left. Matt just looked at you, so gently. Why did he have to look at you like that?

“Drugs? What is going on, am I finally going to get any information from you.” You didn’t want to cry, but his own tears made your body choke up.

“Baby… I-“ The nickname didn’t even shock you; you were too attached to throw that away.

“I don’t want lies, Matt”

“I ended things…to keep you safe, protected.” He watched your eyes, how they were expectant for more before he gave in and spoke again. “Yes, drugs. It’s so stupid, I know. But it’s income. I swear on my life I’ve never touched them, I don’t use, baby.” His voice quivered and it broke you, the tears visible on your faces from the light above.

“Protect me? Matt, you hurt me.”

“Y/n, let me explain. I sell drugs, with a few other people. I hadn’t meant to but my had revolved so much around you that I started fucking up my job. It was my last chance to pick between you or my work. I chose my work to keep you safe. They know all about you, they can hurt you, you don’t understand.” He rambled continuously, spewing words at me. Both his hands talked with him, and it was almost hard to keep up.

“You didn’t mean to revolve around me? What am I, some sort of side piece to you?” He hadn’t meant it that way, you both knew it but it was just so hard to understand each other.

“No wait- I didn’t mean it like tha-“

“Don’t Matt. I- I’m not in the mood.” Walking away felt the same as before, as cold at least. You left him again in the dark, alone.

Just as last time.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'll keep you warm (Yandere!Lynx Shifter X GN!Reader)

CW: Intense temperature exposure , Yandere behavior, dub-con, dead dove, imprisonment/abduction

Inspired by @lonelyafacy 's monster suggestion ❤️

Mother Nature was a cruel and indifferent witch, unforgiving towards those foolish enough to tread her wilderness. (Reader) smacked their dying flashlight, becoming numb to the harsh winter cold through their snowsuit.

The weather had turned for the worse, changing from a snowy winter's day into a blizzard that lasted into the night, separating (Reader) from their group. Their lips were stuck together with frozen blood, and their eyes could barley stay open. The snow coming down was deceptively sharp, nicking their cheeks above the slipping scarf and turning their skin into fragile paper.

Although they pushed on, trying to use the stars amongst the flurry of white as their guide, their limbs were losing their feeling, and (Reader) was beginning to wonder if it was worth the battle. The flashlight flickered again as though it could hear their thoughts. (Reader's) knees buckled, causing them to collapse by the base of a tree. They pulled their limbs in under their body, and fell unconscious, incapable of keeping themselves awake through the cold.

Am I dead?

(Reader) smelled something cooking before they realized they felt warmth. They hadn't been anywhere near civilization, so the first semi coherent thought they had was that they had died and this was heaven. Until their muscles began twitching in pain. A large hand pressed (Reader) back into a mound of furs when they forced themselves to move. The hand was warm and strong, even through the blankets (Reader) could feel it.

"Sleep." A gravelly voice commanded.

(Reader) kept their eyes closed, face mostly buried in the cloud like bedding. "Where am I?"

"My home. I found you outside." The unknown man responded while moving around the home, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sleep more. It'll hurt less." His sentences were short and curt, but (Reader) didn't mind. Whoever he was had saved their life, so he couldn't be too bad of a person. (Reader) fell asleep again.

After thirteen hours (Reader) woke up and was able to sit up without pain, still feeling exhausted despite sleeping for such a long time. Their stomach hurt from hunger. "Hello?" They called out for whoever had rescued them.

A giant entered into view, wearing a hood that obscured his face from (Reader). He held out a wooden bowl filled with some kind of stew. "Can you eat?"

(Reader) reached out from the blankets, immediately going into shock when they saw their own naked arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying. You think I'd put you sopping wet in my bed?"

Embarrassed, (Reader) turned red, ashamed for doubting their hero for even a second. They grabbed the bowl, thanking the man quietly.

"The blizzard has gotten worse. Even I can't leave right now. Once the storm has passed I'll point you in the direction you need to go. Until then, stay warm. Heal up."

"...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"That was for the food. Thank you for saving me."

Although he had his back turned to (Reader) they could see him tense under their words. (Reader) assumed he was uncomfortable with their presence, based on how he kept his face hidden. "My name is (Reader)."

"You don't need to know my name." The man's response was almost panicked, growling as he stormed out of the room.

(Reader) was left upset over the fact that they seemed to anger their savior. He must be anti social..

They finished the bowl of stew and waited under the fur blankets, unable to take care of their dish without walking around in the nude. After some time he returned, taking the bowl without a word, his hand seemed huge in comparison to (Reader's).

"Thank you." They smiled up politely, hoping he was looking. The man shuddered again, hurrying away with the bowl. (Reader) cleared their throat. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Your jacket was frozen solid when I found you. It took a few hours just to thaw. Everything is still damp."

"Why were you outside in this weather?"

"I was on my way back from some last minute hunting and gathering."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. Again."

"There is no need to thank me." His body seemed to relax. (Reader) smiled, hoping that this meant they were wearing him down.

"You saved my life. I got separated from my friends and couldn't find my way in the dark. I would have died out there if it wasn't for you." (Reader) spoke as sincerely as they could. "You're my hero."

He took a deep breath. "I have... lived alone for a very long time. No one knows that I am here. I almost... left you, when I found you."

(Reader's) heart grew heavy with guilt. "I promise I won't tell anyone about you." They briefly imagined that under his cloak was a kind of Quasimodo esque being, who risked his identity to save them.

Even without seeing his face the man seemed surprised, turning to (Reader) and staring from under his hood.

"Cain."

(Reader) gave a large toothy grin. "It's nice to meet you, Cain."

They sat together in a strangely comfortable silence, before a gurgle reminded (Reader) that, unfortunately, they were still human. "Do you have a restroom?"

His relaxed demeanor stiffened again. "It is.. down the hall." He quickly handed an oversized shirt to (Reader) before turning his back for privacy, and pointes in the direction of the facilities.

(Reader) threw the shirt on without thinking too much about it, and painfully hopped to the toilet. The building was a cozy little cabin, (Reader) was just now realizing, with pictures hung up on the wall of a family. They wondered if it was Cain's family. But the need to go was stronger than their curiosity.

They collapsed onto the toilet before realizing that there was an odd smell in the bathroom. It wasn't the normal bad stench of a toiletries, but it smelled rotten.

In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, and other than that the restroom seemed to be empty, with nothing that could be causing such a smell standing out to (Reader). (Reader) didn't want to be snoopy, but... They finished hurriedly, praying that Cain couldn't hear them, and picked up the clothing. The clothes were heavy, torn into shreds and soaked in old, dried blood. A chill ran down (Reader's) spine. Cain didn't want anyone to know he was here. He considered leaving me to die to keep that secret.

How far could I make it in just a shirt?

They left the restroom, trying their best to appear normal. The family on the walls taunted them. Did the blood belong to one of them?

Cain sat by the fire, still hiding under his cloak. Next to him was (Reader's) clothes, hung up on the back of a chair. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions. (Reader) sighed, placing a hand on their heart to muffle it's pounding. He still saved me.

(Reader) touched their shirt, feeling the warm dampness and was relieved, because it meant Cain hadn't been lying about that at least. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"Hopefully just the night. It could last up to a week though."

They shivered at the thought. "Do you have a couch I can sleep on? I wouldn't want to take your bed. Again."

"You can take the bed."

"I'm really fine-"

"Take the bed."

(Reader) could feel the adrenaline shoot to the tips of their toes. "O-okay." Although there was a smile on their face, the previous comfort they felt around Cain was dead. They had trusted him so much simply because he rescued them that they had forgotten that Cain was still a stranger.

Cain grabbed (Reader's) wrist as they passed, his hand engulfing their forearm with his inhumanly large mits. The air became heavy, and (Reader) could feel their arm sweating in his strong grasp.

"Your hand smells like blood."

Frightened, (Reader) smacked at Cain with their free hand, knocking his hood back. Although his face looked only a few years older than (Reader) his shaggy hair was a light grey, and atop his head were two pointed ears, pressed back against his scalp. If it weren't for the coloration, (Reader) CO m wouldn't have noticed the ears at all with how flatly they laid against his head. Shocked, he released (Reader's) arm, giving them enough time bolt out the front door, back into the blizzard.

Snowflakes pierced their skin as they ran, and the warmth they had gained in the cabin was gone the moment they left it's protective embrace, robbed by the harsh environment. Barefoot, (Reader) ran in a random direction, not capable of rational thought. With fight, flight, or freeze, they learned in that moment what kind of person they were.

Between the clouds masking the stars and the onslaught of snow, (Reader) was left completely blind. Without any clothes it felt like their muscles were shredding in their legs. (Reader's) legs gave out much more easily than they had the first time.

(Reader) could barely hear Cain's footsteps above the roar of the wind. Through the trees a large grey monster stalked into view, walking on its hind legs like a man, it's terrifying size was more reminiscent of a bear's. It's ears were flattened, and there was an almost human like expression of disappointment on its face.

"What were you thinking, running off into the woods?" It's voice was hoarse, but it was recognizably Cain's.

As he approached his fur receded, shrinking back down into his more human form, still with animal ears, now naked in the snow. He bent over (Reader's) violently shivering form as they crumbled.

"Did you forget that there was a storm?"

(Reader's) eyes stung as they tried to cry. "Please don't kill me." They weakly pleaded.

"Why would I save you, only to kill you later?" His warm breath thawed (Reader's) cheek. "You were unconscious for a long time when I found you. I thought you were dead. Unlike myself, you needed shelter suitable for a human. So I took one. I didn't have time to clean up everything. I needed to bring back everything I had caught to begin preparing a meal for when you awoke and making it comfortable for when I would eventually make you mine, so I was hoping that you would understand. That I killed them for you."

Cain's hot tongue licked (Reader's) cheek, the juxtaposition between the extreme cold and his sudden warmth made their skin feel like it was being torn off. (Reader) gasped out in pain, too cold to scream.

"I really did almost leave you in the snow. Because what if you left? Found out what I was and told the other humans? But look at you... Were you even conscious when you begged me to save you? Or was that your body acting on its own?" Cain got onto his knees, his skin searing (Reader's) flesh. His fingers digging into their shoulders felt like flames dancing across their body. Each touch from Cain burned. It was neither comforting nor pleasant.

"Ah, but now you're nearly frozen, yet again. Do you want me to warm you up?" Everytime Cain shifted his weight above (Reader), they were exposed to the blistering wind. As the parts of them hidden under Cain's body warmed up in his unnatural heat, the more excruciating the exposure to the outside was.

Tears melted (Reader's) fragile eyes. "Please, warm me up, Cain." Their primitive need for survival made (Reader) beg like a pathetic coward.

The loving smile on Cain's face was brief, before his face began shifting, becoming the humanoid monster he was moments earlier. Dwarfing the terrified human, he ran his rough tongue across their cold body, purposely allowing their body to freeze without his touch before warming (Reader) back up. He relished in the needy whimpers escaping (Reader's) lips as they suffered in the deadly temperature. (Reader) grasped at Cain's fur, trying to pull him in to steal his heat.

Clawed paws grabbed (Reader's) thighs, pressing their knees to their head uncomfortably. (Reader's) eyes widened in horror as Cain revealed his cock, resting it across their exposed bottom. They didn't have time to protest before their body was folded into a mating press, no preparation for their tightened hole, no warning to help them relax. Cain pressed his tip to the opening, and snapped his hips into (Reader's), thrusting in his entire member without lubricant.

Cain's dick was already hot, but with the added pain of the sudden insertion it was like being fucked by an iron poker. The scream (Reader) couldn't find earlier now ripped through their throat, the sound of their agony drowned out by the howling wind.

(Reader) pushed Cain away in surprise, but immediately regretted the action when he playfully leaned back, allowing (Reader's) chest to be assaulted by the snow and hail pelting them from all sides. They pulled him back, cringing at how Cain chuckled in their ear.

He fucked them in the snow, pressing deep into their gut painfully, and humiliating (Reader) further by licking away their tears as they sobbed under his body, incapable of pushing him away. Cain could stop at any moment, but the threat of frost bite kept (Reader) latching onto him, begging him not to let go. Their desperate cries only encouraged Cain to continue teasing them, watching with glee as their skin chapped and bled without his touch.

"It hurts..." (Reader) moaned as they pulled him in deeper.

"If you keep whining like that you'll only make me cum faster." Cain threatened, biting (Reader's) neck to hold in a gasp when they tightened around him. Their knees smacked into their temples as his pace sped up, his twitching cock threatening to release deep inside (Reader).

"No! Don't cum inside me!" (Reader) blubbered into the monster's fur.

(Reader) felt a wave of heat blast inside them as Cain pumped his thick load into their raw hole. As they wept loudly Cain continued happily smacking his wet pelvis into his beloved's, just the action of fucking his seed into them turning him on again.

Cain was already planning their futures together, as (Reader) imagined their death. This wouldn't be so bad, fucking (Reader) like this; purposefully keeping them needy so they clung to him like they wanted it.

Maybe one day, (Reader) would love him in the same way as Cain loved them, and would beg Cain to make love to them, but for now, he was content fucking them like a desperate, wild animal.

Blood from the wind burns and from the tearing from rough sex stained the white white under their bodies. Cain turned back into a human so he could kiss (Reader) passionately, taste their mouth salty from their tears.

"Let's go home, (Reader)."

[moneyndior]

୧ ׅ𖥔you’ll never find nobody better than me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH; i have loser!luke x reader thoughts

tags/warnings: fem!reader, tooth rotting fluff, reader says something slightly suggestive twice at the end, small creepy comments mention, teasing!reader, whipped!luke, hints at aphrodite!reader, hints at reader being popular, separate blurbs/headcanons, LONG‼️

ೃauthor notes⁀➷: do not expect this to be coherent lmfao i just woke up from a 4 hour nap and had ideas. also shout out to artemis for telling me to write this ily oomf

—

—loser!Luke absolutely looks over to you before answering a question for your reassurance.

“can you help me, luke?” a younger hepaestus kid asked. you and luke finally had alone time—away from your friends and away from his siblings. a huff left your lips as you crossed your arms, a sassy expression sure, but that comes naturally to you.

luke opened his mouth, ready to agree. it was his calling, to keep up the golden child reputation he had at camp. but for some reason, he hesitated. luke’s eyes shifted toward yours, back to the kid, then back to you. like he was asking you if he could go—like all his free will was thrown out the window.

as much as you’d like to preach that you didn’t like it—that you’d much rather luke be his own person—you couldn’t. a snicker left your throat as you nodded. luke’s eyes shinned with appreciation, a small smile on his face as he turned his attention to the kid.

“yeah, sure. c’mon.” luke mumbled before kissing you on the cheek, following the kid as the 12 year old frantically explained the situation.

—loser!Luke who gets weak in the knees whenever you noticed him. even if you two just made eye contact.

“it’s getting to be painful to watch you looking at her, dude.” chris said from beside luke. they both watched as your sisters braided your hair. one put a flower in your hair, making luke’s heart race a little faster. the flower on your ear made you look even prettier. it’s no surprise every other guy at camp is fawning over you.

“will you shut up?” luke asked, his face scrunched up as he diverted his attention away from you for only a split second to look over to his friend. “it’s not that bad.”

all luke got in response was silence. he shifted his weight left to right, rolling his shoulders with his arms crossed. he waited very impatiently for chris to answer.

“did you come to your senses yet? is the realization hitting now?” his friend asked, eyebrows raised. he spoke with a chuckle and a mischievous look in his eyes. luke clenched his jaw as he blinked, looking away from him.

“look, she isn’t busy. she probably thinks you’re a creepy stalker.” chris added, rubbing salt onto the wound. maybe now realization would hit luke. and it did. hard.

he could be ruining his chances with you because he’s too much of a loser to muster up the courage to even say hi! goddamnit—what kind of demi-god is he?

chris nudged the curly haired boy before quickly pointing in your direction. luke followed his finger before your eyes locked with his.

he felt his knees slightly buckle, being the first out of the two of you to break eye contact. ‘shit,’ was the only think echoing in his mind. ‘way to go, luke. go on you for looking like the biggest loser in front of y/n. awesome.’ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly fled the scene.

“he’s cute.” “who? luke? y’know—he’s like, totally in love with you, y/n.” “i know.”

—loser!Luke who takes the title of ‘y/n’s boyfriend.’ like seriously….he takes real pride in it.

“you’re y/n’s boyfriend, right?” damn fuckin’ right he is. forget luke castellan—that’s boring. y/n’s boyfriend has a much better ring to it. he’s yours before he’s human.

he felt a weird sense of pride wash over him whenever another camper asked him that. it doesn’t matter if he’s asked it once, twice, or even a thousand times. luke’ll always get a grin on his face as he nods.

getting a question like that just meant he gets to brag about how he’s dating the prettiest girl at camp—the prettiest girl to ever walk this planet.

“yeah. y’know it’s actually our anniversary soon and i was wondering-“ and there he goes, on another tangent about his plans to surprise you. because he only wants the best for you. blah, blah, blah. luke’s just so whipped it makes everyone sick.

percy literally fake gags anytime luke finishes a rant about how pretty you looked last night at the campfire and how gorgeous your eyes were then.

—loser!Luke who took one week and three days to finally talk to you.

he felt his sibling shove him in your direction when his back was turned, causing him to stumble toward you. luke’s head snapped back toward them, watching them laugh with a few other hermes kids.

“you alright?” your voice sounded sweet like honey to him. it wasn’t rough, it was possibly the smoothest, nicest voice he’d ever heard. and luke has spoken to a lot of people.

he tripped over his feet as he tried to straighten his back, rolling his shoulders before crossing his arms. luke cleared his throat, nodding. “yeah. ‘m alright.”

a giggle left your throat at his reaction. out of all the guys that you’ve flirted with—luke stuck out for some reason. maybe it was because he was genuinely flustered at the sight of you. that’s different than the usual corny pickup lines or the way-too-intimate complimenting.

“luke, right? it’s nice to finally put a face on a name.” you said, a chuckle in your voice as you smiled. your smile was so much brighter up close. luke was about to answer, until his words finally processed in his head.

you knew his name. you know who he was before this. did you hear good things about him? bad things? did you hear that he was the best swordsman here? did that impress you?

“uh, yeah. it’s nice to meet you too.” he managed to get out, his voice coming out a little quieter than he’d like.

“i love your hair, by the way.” you complimented him like it was nothing—like he wasn’t about to make it his whole personality. did you even know the hold you have on him?

“oh, thank you.” “you’re welcome.”

luke was ready to say something about your eyes, until your sibling cut him off.

“i have got to steal y/n. i am so sorry, luke!” “oh. that’s alright.”

it wasn’t alright, though. he wanted to keep talking to you—having your full attention on him was better than anything. luke just sighed before speaking to you once more, hoping to leave an impression.

“i’ll see you later, hopefully.”

“yeah, definitely.”

definitely. luke cannot wait for the time definitely comes around.

—loser!Luke who does anything and everything you ask of him.

“can you help me take off my shoes? my feet hurt!”

you whined, throwing yourself onto a log. luke furrowed his brows, more confused above all else. he snickered quietly as he seen you pout, sitting with a leg extended out toward him.

“can’t you do that yourself?” “can’t you do it f’me?”

luke shrugged, sarcastically rolling his eyes at your words. he kneeled down in front of you, beginning to untie the converse you had on.

“you look pretty like this, luke.”

he paused for a moment, his hands still gripping your shoe lace. luke’s lips tightened, his eyebrows twitching. he really didn’t know what to feel other than embarrassment.

“thank you.” he muttered before frantically trying to finish untying the shoe. luke quickly slipped it off, hearing you giggle at his expense.

“why’re you actin’ so shy? can i not compliment my boyfriend?” you teased further as he, once again, frantically tried to untie the other.

“stop it. ‘m tryna help you and this is how you reward me?” “i’ll reward you in a different way if you hurry.”

and goddamnit—hurry he did. even when you asked for him to carry you, he still did. luke is just some guy who’s madly in love with his girlfriend. even when he’s holding her shoes and carrying her bridal style to his cabin.

[nonstoplover]

she broke my heart ~ daniel ricciardo (dr3)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

song inspiration: she broke my heart ~ noah schnacky

summary: the story of how daniel met that someone just because a girl broke his heart

words: 2.6K

warnings: the title is deceiving a bit, i know, but it is pure fluff really

a/n: visa rb kicked danny out and didn't give him the respect and the goodbye he deserved, so i had to write something to help with the pain and kinda make myself forget about what is going on with him at the moment. and what is a better cure than a short fic with some heartwarming fluff?

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

His friends invited him to go to a bar with them, but drowning in his misery, he felt like staying in. Well, that's what he thought at 6pm. A few hours later, feeling more bitter than he's done in a very long time, he realises he could do with the distraction.

He doesn't want to admit it to his friends, though, because first of all, it was him who was unpersuadable about going out, and secondly, they would just joke around, trying to find him a girl to make up for the void her girlfriend – well, ex-girlfriend now – left behind. And he definitely doesn't want that. It's been a week already, but the pain hasn't subsided. And to be honest, he doesn't want the pain to go, not just yet. It's a great reminder of what he's lost, of what he's done wrong. He takes the free time her absence means to reflect on what could've gone differently, if he'd just paid a bit more attention, if he was there more.

Or maybe there's nothing he could've done otherwise. Maybe it wasn't his fault in the end, but hers.

Deep down, he knows it was most probably both of them, but he would've tried. He wanted to fight, in order to keep what they still had, fight for them. She didn't, it seems like.

It was a phone call, a simple, short, goddamn phone call. He was just about to board the flight home from a long race weekend when it happened. Didn't even know what to say. He was exhausted, all he wanted was some sleep and then landing in his girlfriend's arms when he woke up, many hours later. He couldn't find the words, so when she finished describing what wasn't working in their relationship, he just hummed.

And right when he opened his lips finally to say something actually coherent, she just swiftly said, "there's no need to make it harder than it needs to be. I'll be out of here before you get ho- before you get back", like it's no big deal. Like it didn't feel like a twist of the knife on his chest how she corrected herself before she could've said home. The place they shared for two and a half years. Now it's not her home anymore, so it seems.

She really did move out by the time he arrived at his front door. All her belongings were gone like they have never been there in the first place. Like she never existed. Even though she was the centre of the universe for him, or so he thought. Now he's starting to see everything in a new light.

His whole life changed in twenty seconds. That's how long the phone call lasted.

And now, a week later, he can still hear her words in his ear, on repeat, echoing around, making him want to shout, punch the wall, kick the trash can, anything, just to make it disappear.

So he gets dressed, and goes to a bar – one that he knows his friends most definitely aren't going to be at –, and sits down at the counter, ordering something strong, something that will burn its way down to his stomach, melting away the painful knots in his throat and chest along the way.

After one drink, it only feels worse. He's looking at the happy couples dancing away on this lovely Friday night, holding each other, looking like they aren't aware of anyone else in the bar, like they're the only two people left on the planet. It used to be like that for him and her as well. But not anymore.

After two drinks, the echo of her words seems to quieten a bit. Some words missing from the sentences she said, and the blissful memories of their time together fading from the front of his mind that have been playing on repeat until then.

After three drinks, the welcomed distraction finally comes. He's not thinking about her any longer, he's not watching the couples dancing sorrowfully, he's just nodding his head to the rhythm of the music playing, his feet also tapping the beat on the foot-rest of the bar stool he's perching on.

After four drinks, he finally gets up, the fifth in his hands, though it's not the same thing anymore, he's changed his order to something more fun, something more unique.

What he doesn't notice though, too focused on the way the fancy little drink swirls in the glass, reflecting the lights of the dance floor, creating a tiny rainbow in their wake, is the person trying to move behind him

Daniel swiftly turns around, eager to get on the floor as a song he loves starts playing, and with that same movement, crashes into that person, all his drink spilling out from the glass, right onto the girl.

"Oh my god, I'm so terribly sorry!" he slurs, a blush creeping on his already pink coloured cheeks, just as she lets out a gasp.

The girl looks down, trying to see the damage, as if she's in slow motion, still recovering from the surprise of their crash. Her mind is just as slow to catch up to what happened, her lips widening into the shape of an O, when it finally does.

"Shoot," she mumbles – at least, that's what Daniel can read from her lips, as the music is way too loud for him to hear her.

"I truly am sorry," he repeats, and as if she only notices him in that very moment, she looks up at him.

"It's okay," she says, and suddenly a bright, warm smile spreads on her face, one that Daniel didn't expect. Not at all. He's figured there will be a long string of curses, an annoyed glance his way, eyebrows furrowed, a huff of anger maybe, then her storming off, maybe to the bathroom, to save what can be saved of her outfit. Instead, he got that smile, one that spreads warmth in his chest, one that makes his heart skip a beat, and one that he can't help but mirror.

With lips curving into his signature smile, he places the now mostly empty glass back on the counter. "Can I do anything to repay you for the mess I've caused?" he asks, turning his eyes back towards her.

"No, thanks, it's all fine. I was just about to go soon, anyway."

"I feel awful, though," he presses on, not really understanding why all of a sudden he feels scared about that plan – the one where she leaves soon. Maybe it's because if she leaves, she'll take that bright smile away from him, along with the warmth in his chest, and he will fall back into his depressed, desperate state of mind, drowning in sorrow. "Let me at least buy a drink, maybe a coffee, some other time, if you don't wanna stay here any longer."

She ponders about his offer for a second or two, weighing the options. Her friend has just called an Uber for the two of them, but she doesn't have to go with her, does she? She can stay a bit longer, it's not her that has to attend a wedding tomorrow, but her friend, so she can just go ahead, and she can stay with this handsome stranger. Maybe her top is drenched in something alcoholic, something that makes her skin sticky, she can already feel it, but it's not every day she meets a cute man, offering to buy her a drink. This might be her little meet cute, the one she's been dreaming about for as long as she's seen The Holiday, oh so many years ago.

"Give me a sec," she says in the end, turning on her heels, and making her way through the crowd towards her friend waiting at the entrance.

Daniel looks after her dumbfounded, not sure what's happening, and as the crowd closes behind her, he wonders if she'll ever come back.

She does, a couple minutes later – just enough time to make Daniel feel foolish for still standing around waiting in the exact same position she's left him in, but not enough time to make him actually do something about this awkward feeling.

His eyes light up at the sight of her, curiosity peaking in his whole body in the shape of electricity, or so it feels, about what she's going to say to his offer. Joyous, excited disbelief is still written on her face from what she's about to do, and in the next moment, she leans in closer to his ear. "I don't have to go, not really, so what was that you said about a drink?"

A mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and relief filling up his brain like fog. His much awaited, proper distraction, finally.

One drink turns into two, with the conversation just flowing. They soon move to a booth, to have a bit more privacy and comfort, and though they're sitting opposite each other, their feet are touching under the table, and they're both leaning in to be closer to each other. Neither can deny this magnetic attraction they feel, pulling them like one of them is a planet while the other is a meteor that can't fight the gravitational pull, both of them just awaiting that unavoidable crash.

Her fingers play with the empty glass, spinning it around, or circling the rim. He can't help but think about how much he wishes that he could touch those fingers. That he could be the one to stop their nervous – or excited? – fiddling. That he can wrap his much larger hand around hers, and see how it feels to have skin on skin contact with her. But it's only a wish.

He tells her about all the funny stories he can remember at the top of his head from the past couple years of his life, and revels in the sound of her laughter, ringing loud and clear even above all the noise and thumping beat. Tears form in her eyes from all the laughing, and she's clutching her sides, asking him to stop because she just can't breathe.

Daniel ends the story, and watches her with a smile on his face as she catches her breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't recognise himself. Who is this person, and where's the heartbroken, pathetic remains of a human being that he's been this past week? He can't find that version of him anymore. A few hours spent in her company, and it's like she changed the person he was.

"Wanna dance?" she asks when she's regained her composure, nodding towards the dance floor.

Daniel raises an eyebrow, thinking of the question as more of a challenge, then nods eagerly, already moving to get up from his seat. She follows suit, and they join the people still dancing, sing-shouting the lyrics of a song he didn't even think he knows the words to.

He lets go of all inhibitions, and just enjoys being in this feeling. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Maybe he'll go back to his sorrow, pitifully sitting in his house, looking at the empty walls – well, empty except the nails that used to hold their shared pictures with his ex-girlfriend. That's really all that's left of her.

He's brought back to reality with her fingers gently touching his arm as she doubles over in laughter, and when he looks at her with a questioning look in his eyes, she just pants out "your dancing", pointing at him. He glances down, as if he could see exactly what she means, and though he's not sure what she found so funny, he just accepts gracefully that he's made her laugh, again, even if he did so unintentionally.

Hoping to be imperceptible in his motives, he moves closer to the girl with the help of his dance moves, wondering what might happen if he brushed his fingers against hers. In an act of who cares bravery, he just goes for it. She stayed with him for a reason, it's not like she doesn't want him to be there. And holding hands isn't that big of a leap to take, he's not trying to kiss her or something.

So his fingers move, and weave their way around hers until he's finally found a proper hold on them. She gives him a reassuring squeeze only a moment later, and her smile gets even wider, if that's possible. Daniel feels happiness fill his chest, a kind that he hasn't felt in a long time, not in his career, not in his personal life. Maybe there's a way to move past his ex and the past few years. Maybe all he needs is her.

And looking into those gorgeous, sparkling eyes, he feels like he's right. For once in his life, he's finally going to make the right decision.

Close to their third anniversary Daniel finds a little souvenir that he once got for his previous girlfriend, and the memories come flooding back. This time though, he's not filled with misery, thinking of all those months, and with a small grin on his face, he realises that his current relationship has already lasted more than the one he had with that girl did. For some inexplicable reason, he finds this reassuring. Exciting. Happy.

He slides down to the rug beneath his feet, pressing his back against the side of the sofa – the one he got quite fond of in the past few months, something that he won't ever admit to her, as she had to spend weeks to convince him to let her buy it –, and though his eyes are open, he doesn't really see what's in front of him.

His fingers play with the little figurine, and lets his mind travel back in time to that very day when he met the love of his life. All thanks to another girl he once loved. There's quite a bit of irony in that, he has to admit.

If he wasn't deep in sadness that day, being left by a girl, he wouldn't have gone to that bar. If he was still in a relationship, he would've been at home, enjoying time with his girlfriend of the time. Hell, he almost stayed at home anyway, in his sorrow, all alone. It feels like he won the lottery by that small decision that he eventually got up and went out on that fateful Friday night. He would've missed out on the almost exactly 1100 days of happiness he got just by knowing the girl who he spilled his drink on.

If there was still a her back then, and he wasn't single, there definitely wouldn't have been a them now. It's crazy to think, and makes him ponder if in an other universe, it all played out differently. He feels pity for the version of him in those other lives. This is definitely the best variety of how his life could have gone.

Then he hears keys jingling at the front door, signalling that this wonder of a woman he gets to call his own is just about to walk through and flash a smile worth a million diamonds at him.

"Well, thank God she broke my heart," he mumbles to no one in particular, as he pushes himself up from the floor, eager to see her as soon as possible.

a/n: i'm back from the dead again! gosh, can't believe how insane and busy this year has been for me, i'm so determined to write more now though, hopefully i can actually do it. until then, here we go with another short fic for all your reading pleasure! xx

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

taglist: @formulapierre

[goddessapostle]

Storm

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Wanderer/Scaramouche, GN!Reader Summary: You're going to die thinking about a man whose name you don't even know. Warnings: Violence

1k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Another request from @acidsbeats! Thank you for helping @ficsforgaza once again, and thank you for your patience this time as well! ^^

Damn, you wish you could fly. If your friend were here, he'd carry you down the cliff. Anemo Visions are so useful. 

But he’s not here. Bandits are. They separated you from the caravan you were guarding, then drove you up a cliff overlooking Mawtiyima Forest. You're trapped between a waterfall and a long drop. 

Your friend could hold them back. Then again, your friend could escape without certain death. Your friend is awesome. 

Except for the fact that he wont tell you his name. It’s been almost a year since you met the wandering Inazuman, but he just won’t reveal it.

“Call me whatever,” he said, more annoyed every time you asked. 

Well, Whatever won’t have to worry about it anymore. 

You dodge the fist headed for your face. Another lands in your stomach. You cough, but still manage to elbow the guy responsible. He stumbles away, clutching his nose. You have maybe a second to catch your breath. 

One man lounges in the back of the crowd. He nods towards you, and two more Treasure Hoarders walk forward. He’s the ringleader, clearly, but you have no clue why he’s targeting you specifically. He had a chance to steal your client’s wares but chose to chase you instead. 

You beat down his two grunts as the memory of him floats up from your mind. 

It was the night you and your friend met. Lambad kicked you both out of his tavern because he was tired of your bickering over the best seat in the place. This asshole tried to mug you both, but you kicked his ass right into jail. Your friend was impressed. He’d be impressed now, too, since you’ve just disabled seven of the people trying to beat you to a pulp. 

Fuck. Now is not the time to think about him. 

The mugger waves another person forward. 

“Fight me, coward!” you call. “I’ll go easy on you this time.” You smile, despite the pain of your split lip. 

The mugger stands. You raise your arms in front of your body, fists clenched, stance wide. 

You have no idea what happened next. You woke on the ground. The ache in your knuckles suggests you were fighting. The ache in your head suggests you lost. The bindings around your wrists confirm it. 

A blurry face floats in front of yours — the asshole mugger. 

“Not dead yet, I hope?” He sits you on your knees and brushes dirt from your shirt. His hand travels under it to yank your necklace from you.  

“Don’t–touch–” you try as he searches for more treasure. You can barely form a coherent thought.  

His fingers hover by your head, removing most of your earrings. He leaves you with just one pair — dangling silk ribbons that attach in three different places. 

If anything, you’re glad you still have those. They were a gift from your friend. They may be the only reason your body is identified. 

“Satisfied?” you ask as he walks back to the group. 

He hums, parsing through your jewelry with a finger. Scowling, he sets it on a nearby barrel and picks up a roll of leather. 

Five knife hilts reflect the sun as he unrolls it. 

The first knife sinks into your shoulder. You grunt, hoping he doesn’t hear it over the waterfall to your left. 

“You humiliated me.” The second lands in your thigh. 

“You have to pay for it, y’know?” The third, your abdomen. It burns with every breath you take. 

Wind rushes by your head. You think the fourth knife missed until you feel blood drip down your ear. 

“And your shit ain’t worth nearly enough.” 

There’s only one knife left. You have no doubt as to where it’s meant to go. 

You have to do something — maybe the waterfall? 

Water falls into a pool, usually, but you have no idea how deep it is or how long the drop. The fall could kill you. 

Could. You can risk could. 

The mugger raises his hand. 

You tense.  

A gaze lands on your back. One that’s familiar. One that’s full of rage. 

Your muscles go slack as air flows all around you. It gathers at some point behind you. 

“You dare touch what’s mine?” 

Your body sways, teetering in the wind. An arm steadies you, wrapping gently around your shoulders. 

Your friend slashes his other hand. 

The bandits fly. Some into the water. Others into trees. Those that can still move run away. 

The grip on your shoulder tightens before dropping to your wrists. He doesn’t untie the rope; you hear a snap! and then your hands are loose. 

You slump against your friend’s chest, wrapping your uninjured arm around him. Tremors make their way through your body. 

You were going to die. 

Gods, you were going to die. 

Your friend holds you close. 

“How?” you croak, voice lost with your adrenaline. 

“I was helping the Matra with an investigation. And...” He holds up his hand. In his palm is a knife that matches the ones still sticking out of you. The only difference is a scrap of fabric caught in the tang — the silk from your earrings. 

“You saved my life. Thank you.” 

The fabric flutters in a breeze. He stares at it, then at you. 

“Scaramouche,” he says. There’s a weight to the word, one you cannot decide is reverence or despair. “My name is Scaramouche.” 

You blink, slow to understanding. “Your… name?” 

“Call for me if you’re ever in danger again. I’ll find you. I can’t-I can’t lose you.” He hugs you tight, pressing you firmly against his chest for the briefest of moments. 

When it passes, he scoops you up — one hand on your back, the other under you knees. 

“What–” 

“You need a doctor. I’m going to tell Cyno where those assholes went then take you to one.” 

“Wait-” 

You scream when he jumps over the waterfall. 

Scaramouche just smirks.