#i hope you don't take this as an attack anon

[queenpiranhadon]

Can I request bkg and reader getting in a fight so they still share the bed but sleep while facing away from each other. But then reader gets nightmare about him dying and clutches to him. How do you think he would react??

A/N: Sobbing because the manga has me in shambles TY ANON FOR THE REQUESTTT <33 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Mild cursing, you and Katsuki get into a fight, he's a little hot headed but he means well, you both love each other so much, you both are dating, mentions of an anxiety attack, nightmares, angst to comfort, mentions of blood and death, slight spoilers, reader is called princess and baby, f!reader.

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

"Katsuki you can't keep doing this to yourself!"

"Jesus baby, ya know that this is my job, I don't have a choice! I can't just stop savin' people 'cause my girlfriend wants me to."

It went on like that for a while, back and forth, between "You can't just keep coming home like this, it's not healthy!" and "It's my fuckin' job - what the fuck do ya want me to do about it?!" as well as every single variation of the two.

It was exhausting.

You were understandably worried sick about your pro hero boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou, you always had been. You loved him to death, you always would, but your heart simply couldn't take the sight of him coming home bruised and bloodied and on the brink of death.

You believed in him, you really did, but the little voice in the back of your head never seemed to stop asking the one question you wish never had to be asked in the first place.

What if it finally became too much? What if one day, he didn't come home back to you?

The scenarios that voice would create were almost as bad as having to experience it in real life, and Katsuki's blatant disregard for your feelings only made it worse.

To him, you didn't believe in him. Your worries made him feel weak - your worries made it seem like his skills were incompetent, as if he wasn't enough. After all, when you see a hero like All Might on the screen, no one is simply worried for his wellbeing, because they know he'll win.

Why don't you think he can win?

The two of you don't speak to each other for the rest of the night, still sleeping in the same bed but turned away from each other.

And it was hard, trying to fall asleep without the other, so accustomed to falling asleep in each other's arms, but you finally managed to do so.

However, without Katsuki's presence to soothe you in the night, the voice in your head decided to take the reins on your dreams.

Except it was much more worse than that.

You were on a battle field, there was so much happening except there was nothing happening at the same time.

You can't see your hands, or the rest of your body, eerily making you a spectator to the chilling scene around you.

The ground was slate grey, and then it wasn't, crimson blood staining the ground until all you could see was red.

You try to scream, but you can't because you have no body, and consequently, no mouth.

Still you persist, opening an invisible mouth to let out soundless screams in the hope that someone, anyone, can get you out of this soulless empty hellhole.

And then you see him.

It's Katsuki.

He looks fine, unharmed except for the hollow look in his eyes.

Your heart aches and you reach out an invisible hand to do something, to apologize for losing your temper, anything to have him back.

But the moment you blink, Katsuki isn't fine, or unharmed anymore.

Now, there was a gaping hole in his chest, and half of his face was stained the same crimson that was splattered across the ground.

You could only watch in horror as Katsuki's life was sucked out of him, seeping out through the blood that dripped out of his body, staining the ground even further, pooling at his feet.

You scream even more, but nothing comes out. You can't do anything, and the love of your life is bleeding out and you're just standing there.

Shit!

You didn't realize you were crying until you feel two strong hands gently shaking you awake, finding yourself buried in Katsuki's chest, clutching onto his shirt like it was your lifeline. Or in this case, his.

"Princess? I'm here, baby I'm here...everything's okay..." he murmurs, his gruff voice soothing you as he strokes your hair, allowing you to soak his shirt with your tears, not minding it at all.

You look at him, and his heart breaks at the broken look in your eyes.

"Katsuki...?" you whisper, and he looks at your with those piercing vermillion eyes, ridden with guilt.

"Baby, m'so sorry I talked to ya like that.... I'm so stupid, damnit." he whispers angrily, not to you, but to himself.

How had he not realized how bad your anxiety was?

He sighs - he wasn't the focus right now, you were.

He brings a large and gentle hand around, cupping the back of your head and tenderly pressing it against his chest.

"Feel that princess? That my heart, beating for ya. And only for ya, ya hear me?"

You giggle softly, feeling your heart warm. The two of you fall asleep together like that, and the little voice in your head finally gives you a few words of assurance.

Katsuki's okay.

[ja3yun]

Out of My League | S.JY

footballer!jake x fem footballer!reader

warnings: smut (mdni) unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, cream pie, nipple play, slight overstim, not proof read, anything else lmk!

w.c: 5.5k

REQ: can't stop thinking about football teammate-slash-friend jaeyun whom you've had a secret crush and have never acted on it because you felt like he was out of your league... until that afternoon right after training when you and some of your teammates were at his place, fixing up and getting ready for a pool party. jake let you take a shower in his own bathroom, and when he saw you step out in a sundress for the first time, he knew he won't be able to contain his hidden desires for you much longer...

a/n: hi! first of all, this is european football and not american, soccer basically. i hope you like this anon! i ran to complete this request because i have been dying for an excuse to write footballer jake and imagine him in a strip (for me? it's ac milan or celtic personally). I changed tiny little aspects of it, hope you don't mind! enjoy and reblog, like, comment, etc etc.

You sprint down the pitch, heart pounding as the ball moves rapidly between your teammates. The opposing team is pressing hard, and you sense the danger building. You catch sight of Jake, your reliable defensive midfielder, positioned just ahead of the backline. With the opposition's attackers closing in, you know it's time to reinforce your defence.

"Jake! Drop back!" you shout, your voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. Immediately, Jake responds to your command, falling back to help the defenders. You watch as he expertly positions himself, ready to intercept any potential threats. His quick reaction provides the necessary buffer, allowing your team to regroup and cover any gaps.

With Jake now deeper, the opposition's forward hesitates. This split-second delay is all your defenders need to mark their men more tightly. With Jake in position, you feel a renewed sense of security. You move to close down the space in front of you, preparing to press any midfielder attempting to break through.

The ball is passed wide to the opposing winger, and your full-back engages, trying to force them towards the touchline. The winger tries to cut inside, but Jake is there, reading the play perfectly. He steps up, intercepts the pass intended for the striker, and quickly looks for an outlet. His composure under pressure is evident as he spots you making yourself available for a pass.

"Switch!" you call, ready to change the direction of play. Jake delivers a precise pass to your feet, and you immediately look upfield, spotting an opportunity. You send a long ball to your winger, who takes it in stride and charges down the flank. The crowd's anticipation grows as he crosses the ball into the box.

There are only seconds on the overtime clock and you know you need to do something, and fast. You sprint into the penalty area, arriving just in time to meet the cross with a powerful header. The ball flies past the goalkeeper and into the net. The crowd of amateur football fans and dragged-along parents erupt in cheers as you and your teammates celebrate.

Jake's face lights up with a beaming smile as he sprints towards you. Without missing a beat, he wraps his arms around you and lifts you high into the air. Laughter bubbles out of you as he spins you around, the world blurring into a whirl of colours and cheers. His joy is infectious, and you can’t help but throw your arms up in delight.

As Jake sets you back down, the two of you share a moment of pure happiness. He places his hands on each side of your face and brings your forehead to his. “You fucking did it,” he whispers, though the excitement in his chest makes the words sound much louder. His lips suddenly find their way to your sweaty forehead and your eyes widen, a faint tingle spreading over your body.

Although he does this every time you score a winning goal - or any goal at all, for that matter - it still makes your heart flutter like a captured bird, frantically beating against its cage. Perhaps that’s why you strive to always score at least one goal every game, just to feel his touch like this.

Jake Sim, your friend and right-hand man on your co-ed college football team, has always had that effect on you. It was quite pathetic really, and so cliché that you almost smack yourself in the face every time you think about him. Harbouring a crush on your best friend is so noughties rom-com it’s almost laughable.

Your infatuation with Jake began two years ago when you both started college. He was in every single one of your classes, a coincidence that felt like destiny. From the first day, his charisma and kindness drew you in, and before long, you found yourself gravitating towards him. When you both signed up for the football team, your bond solidified. Practices, matches, and late-night study sessions became the fabric of your shared routine. You became inseparable, your lives interwoven with a seamless blend of friendship and teamwork.

Jake’s presence was a constant source of solace. His laughter was infectious, his encouragement unwavering. On the field, he was your anchor, always ready to support you, celebrate your victories, and lift you up - both literally and figuratively. Off the field, he was your confidant, your late-night study partner, and your favourite person to unwind with after a gruelling day. He was the only person in this world that never drained your social battery.

Yet, despite the closeness, you never dare to confess your feelings. You convince yourself that someone as perfect and enchanting as Jake can’t possibly see you in a romantic light. It isn’t that you think poorly of yourself - you know you are far from unattractive - but Jake’s effortless charm and the way everyone seems to orbit around him makes you feel like just another face in the crowd. He is so out of your league that you can’t ever fathom him liking you any more than he already does as your friend.

Your heart aches with unspoken longing, each shared smile and inside joke adding fuel to the fire of your crush. You cherish every moment with him, even though it comes with a bittersweet pang. Watching him laugh, seeing his eyes light up during your conversations, feeling the warmth of his arm casually draped over your shoulders - it was all wonderful and agonising at the same time.

In those quiet moments when you are alone with your thoughts, you fantasise about what it might be like if he reciprocates your feelings. But then reality crashes in, reminding you that Jake is seemingly unattainable. So, you keep your feelings locked away, hidden behind the facade of friendship, hoping that someday you might find the courage to tell him how you really feel. Until then, you continue to play, to score, and to revel in the moments when Jake’s lips touch your skin, even platonically.

You don’t get the chance to breathe in this moment with him because suddenly, your team hoists you into the air, shouting congratulatory words. It’s not uncommon for your football team to win; in fact, you’re all some of the best players in the amateur league. But a tight game like this one, with the score coming in at 2-1 thanks to you, is a special cause for celebration.

Amidst the jubilant chaos, you search for Jake's face below you. His adoring smile stretches across his cheeks, his eyes gleaming with awe. He looks up at you as if you're a hero, and for a moment, the world feels perfect.

Jake has always valued you as a player, often confessing during training that he aspires to emulate your skill and dedication. His admiration is no secret, but sometimes you wonder if there is something deeper behind those lingering glances and encouraging words.

“Alright, celebratory party at mine! Bring your trunks,” Jay bellows as the team finally places your feet back on the ground, their energy still buzzing from the win.

Within a beat of being steady, Jake slings an arm over your shoulder, his touch warm and familiar. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he pulls you closer, his fingers casually brushing against your arm. “Hey,” he says softly, “why don’t you get ready at my place? We can pregame a bit before heading over to Jay’s.”

His eyes flick to your lips briefly, and your heart skips a beat. You wonder if you’re imagining it, but the lingering intensity in his gaze makes you question everything, but you quickly dismiss it as pure delusion. “Sure, that sounds fun,” you manage to reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walk together, his arm still draped over you, you steal glances at him, wondering if he can hear your thoughts and, fuck, you really hope he can’t. You made the mistake of eyeing him up in his football strip - a black and red vertical striped, tight-fitted top that adorns your school’s logo on the chest, paired with loose black shorts that show off his naturally muscly thighs. You are wearing the same uniform yet it looks like you’re dressed as a bad Álvaro Morata cosplay compared to your friend.

It’s no wonder he never looked at you as a potential romantic partner.

Maybe you could change that with a certain purchase you made last month.

_____

Walking into Jake’s room, you don’t bother to knock, knowing that he’s in the shower as you hear the water running from his ensuite bathroom. You've already changed into your outfit despite telling Jake you would get ready at his place. It isn’t uncommon for you to do this; after all, it is a lot of effort to lug around your makeup and curlers. Plus, you want to surprise him when he sees you.

Jake is so used to seeing you in either your football uniform or casual outfits - a rotation of jeans, leggings, or cargo trousers paired with loose t-shirts or hoodies, sometimes even one of his. It’s very rare he sees you as dolled up as you are right now; maybe the only other time was for his mum and dad’s 25th wedding anniversary.

But today, you have on something much nicer than anything you’ve ever placed on your body before. Last month, you purchased a milkmaid sundress after seeing over 20 TikToks in a row talking about how it appeases the male gaze. Now, you aren’t one to buy into the trap of dressing for a man, making it quite clear to everyone around you that you would rather die than appeal to men in exchange for your own comfort. But this was not just any man - this was Jake after all - and you wanted to be seen by him. So, is it a crime to want to gain his attention?

The dress hugs your curves in all the right places, the soft fabric accentuating your figure while still feeling incredibly comfortable. You look at yourself in Jake’s full-length mirror, turning from side to side and admiring the way the dress flows. The pretty floral pattern makes you look delicate and the way the dress cinches at your waist makes you feel like a princess.

Even though you are trying to impress Jake, you are surely impressing yourself.

The sound of the shower stops, and your heart races. You quickly check your reflection one last time, smoothing down your dress and adjusting a stray piece of hair. The bathroom door opens, and Jake steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist, water still glistening on his skin.

The sight takes your breath away. His tanned skin glows warmly against the stark white of the towel, a striking contrast that only emphasises his natural allure. Water droplets cling to his sculpted chest, slowly trickling down the ridges of his abs and disappearing to an area you’ve been desperate to explore for years. The light filtering into the room catches the droplets, making them shimmer like tiny jewels on his bronzed skin.

Jake’s hair, damp and tousled from the shower, clings to his forehead in a mess of dark waves. The wet shag frames his face perfectly, his puppy-dog eyes peeking through the chaos with a boyish charm that makes your heart thump. His muscles ripple subtly with each movement as he ruffles the back of his hair with another towel, the play of light and shadow accentuating every defined line and curve. The towel rests low on his hips, teasingly hinting at the strong lines of his lower abdomen, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks at the sight.

He pauses in his tracks, hands falling to his sides as his mouth falls open, taking in your appearance. His eyes widen, darkening with an emotion you can’t quite place. The room feels charged with electricity as his gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate. You feel suddenly insecure, acutely aware of every inch of your body under his intense scrutiny.

His eyes trail from your face, lingering on your flushed cheeks and the way your hair frames your features. They travel down the graceful curve of your neck to the neckline of your dress, where the delicate lace trim accentuates your collarbones. His breath catches as his stare continues its descent, taking in the way the fabric hugs your waist and flares out over your hips.

When his eyes reach the slit in your dress, exposing a tantalising glimpse of your leg, he audibly gulps, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in astonishment. His reaction sends a thrill through you, your insecurities momentarily forgotten as you realise just how deeply you’ve affected him.

“Fuck me,” he says in exasperation, his voice barely a whisper, filled with raw desire and admiration.

Jake’s eyes snap back up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart pound in your chest. He takes a tentative step forward, closing the distance between you slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“You look...unreal,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “When did you, uh, when did you get that dress?” He tries to play the question off as passive but the slight stutter in his voice betrays him.

You feel a surge of confidence mixed with nervous excitement. This is your chance, and you don’t want to let it slip away. “Oh, this?” you say, feigning nonchalance as you do a little twirl, the dress flares out beautifully. “I got it last month. I thought it might be fun to dress up for a change. I am the star of the party after all.” The giggle that escapes your lips makes you cringe but something about this dress is doing something to you, adding a strange allure to your character that you didn’t know was there before.

Or maybe it’s the way you see the boy in front of you physically melt at the sound.

Jake’s eyes follow the movement of your dress, his eyes lingering on the way it hugs your figure. “Fun is one way to describe it,” he says, his voice low. “I always thought you were beautiful but this? This is insane.”

You pause dead in your tracks, eyes widening for a split second as the words filter through your ears and register in your brain. He always thought you were beautiful. It takes everything inside you not to scream into the boy's face with sheer glee, jumping up and down on his bed like you just won the Euros.

You blink a few times, trying to process his words. “You think I’m beautiful?” you repeat, the question tumbling out before you can stop it.

Jake’s leer is steady, unwavering as he looks at you. “Yeah,” he says softly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You had to know that.”

You absolutely did not know that. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you force yourself to breathe evenly. Jake's casual demeanour around you has always been so effortless and unassuming that it's almost bizarre to think he ever considered you might know how he truly feels. The realisation is surreal, like stepping into a dream where every moment has been charged with unspoken longing.

“Honestly, no,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper in the quiet between you. “I was completely clueless, I guess.”

His brows knit together in genuine surprise. “Really?”

The reason Jake is so shocked is that for years he has pined after you like a lovesick fool. From the very first day he saw you walk into class, he knew he wanted to be around you all the time - morning and night, evenings and afternoons. If he could keep you close, he would. And by God, did he.

All those lingering touches on your waist as he passed by, the way he held your hand during crowded spaces that weren’t actually that crowded, and the tender kisses to your forehead at every game - those were all subtle hints about his affection towards you.

Jake had never shared this secret with you, but in his first year of college, he received an offer to play for a high-ranking football team, one that could have easily catapulted him into the professional leagues if he dedicated himself fully. But when he learned that you were a midfielder trying out for your own school’s team, his dreams took a backseat to his feelings for you. The chance to stay close to you, to be part of your daily life, meant more to him than any career advancement.

So, he turned down the prestigious offer and remained at college, using the chance to join the same football team as you. Every practice, every game, every moment spent on the pitch was an opportunity to be near you, to support you, and to be part of your world. It wasn’t just about playing the sport he loved - it was about being close to the girl he adored.

He had hoped his feelings would eventually become clear, that maybe the way he looked at you, the way he cheered for you a bit louder than anyone else, would convey what words could not. Yet here you were, completely unaware of the depth of his emotions.

“Yeah, really,” he says, his voice softening with a mix of relief and vulnerability. “I guess I’m not very good at showing it. I should have been a bit more obvious, huh?”

You can’t help but let out a scoff, both amused and touched. “Oh, you think?” you say, your voice tinged with playful exasperation. “The subtlety was impressive, but maybe a little too subtle.”

Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he tilts his head, his pupils conveying everything he has failed to tell you the past few years, glistening with fondness. His hand lingers on your cheek and his eyes are back on your lips, the same way they were earlier after the game. So you didn’t imagine it after all. 

Your chest rises but refuses to deflate as you hold in your breath, anticipation running rampant through your body. Jake’s fingers gently caress your cheek, his touch both reassuring and electrifying. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creates a cocoon of intimacy that feels both exhilarating and calming. His eyes lock onto yours with a mixture of hope and desire, and you can’t help but feel a flush of lust hit your core and love punch your heart.

“Do you…feel similar? To me?” he asks, not sure the right way to phrase the question, the words stuck in his throat in fear that you’ll laugh in his face and ruin any potential opportunity he has right not to claim your lips with his own.

Inhaling, you nod. “Yeah, for a long time.” The admission throws Jake off balance, his brain unable to make sense of your words. You had wanted this as much as him?

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, his intentions clear and unspoken. The air between you is charged, brimming with the promise of what could be. Your heart races, each second stretching into eternity as you wait for him to close the distance.

You’re almost overwhelmed by the urge to grab him and pull him into you, your mind screaming at him to stop teasing and make the move you’ve been craving. The tension is almost unbearable, the anticipation so thick it feels like it could be sliced with a knife. After years of feeling like you never stood a chance, the least he can do is bridge the gap between you two.

And finally, he does. Once he’s certain you won’t back away, Jake closes the space between you with a fervent urgency. His lips crash onto yours, the soft plumpness melding with yours in a symphonic harmony. The kiss is both tender and intense, a mingling of passion and longing that seems to erase all the doubts and fears of the past.

As his lips move against yours, you feel a surge of warmth, a thrilling confirmation of the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, the contact grounding you at the moment. Every touch, every caress, is electric as if he’s been waiting to show you just how much you mean to him.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth, his voice a low, throaty whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His lips continue their relentless exploration, tilting his head to capture every corner of your mouth. He sweeps his tongue along your lips, his movements slow and deliberate, tracing the contours of your mouth with a possessive tenderness.

The kiss becomes intensified as his tongue glides into your mouth, dancing in a primal and captivating rhythm. He explores you with idle enthusiasm, each caress promising the depth of his affections. His hands slip from your waist to your lower back, pushing you close to him. You can feel the solid heat of his chest on yours, the hard planes of his body pushing into you, creating an internal fire that causes your heart to accelerate.

You respond eagerly, your own tongue meeting his in a passionate tango. Your fingers dig into his still-damp biceps, drawing him closer, your bodies melding together in a way that feels impossibly intimate. The outline of his arousal is unmistakable as it presses against your lower abdomen, the towel he’s wearing doing little to mask his growing need.

The sensation of his hardness against you adds a new layer of intensity to the moment, making your breath hitch and your skin flush with warmth. Every movement, every touch, heightens the urgency of your connection. His hands explore your back with a possessive hunger, his touch sending shivers up your spine. 

His hands move with deliberate slowness, tracing intricate patterns along your spine before dipping lower. As his fingers find the slit in your dress, they pause momentarily, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. The anticipation builds, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

With a subtle shift, he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your panties. The intimate contact sends a shockwave through your body, your knees weakening as you lean into him for support. His touch is confident yet gentle, exploring the slick heat between your thighs with eagerness.

Each movement is calculated, designed to elicit the most exquisite reactions from you. Jake’s fingers glide through your folds, finding the sensitive bud that makes your entire body tense with pleasure. He circles it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp and arch against him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your ear, his voice husky with desire. "I wish I showed you just how gorgeous you are every day, even in your strip. You look like a fucking vision in those grass-stained shorts."

A guffaw of scepticism leaves your lips but is swiftly bitten back when he puts delightful pressure on your nub, robbing the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, your senses heightened to the point where every touch feels magnified. His other hand remains on your lower back, holding you close, ensuring you don’t escape his grasp. The heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles, the way he’s pressed so intimately against you - it all combines to create a heady cocktail of desire that leaves you dizzy and yearning for more.

His fingers dip lower, teasing your entrance before plunging inside with deliberate, agonising slowness. The invasion is both gentle and commanding, a silent declaration of his control over your pleasure. He moves with a skill that makes your breath hitch and your legs tremble, his thumb continuing to caress your clit in perfect synchrony.

Your own hands, now trembling with need, slide from his biceps to clutch at his shoulders. You pull him even closer, your bodies melding together in a desperate bid for more contact. The towel around his waist loosens, and with a determined tug, you discard it, letting it fall to the floor. His arousal, now unencumbered, presses more insistently against you, the barrier of your new dress between you feeling almost unbearable.

"God, I need you," you whisper, your voice a breathless plea.

He responds with a deep, throaty growl, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss. Your hand moves between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his length. The heat and hardness of him in your grasp send a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. You start to pump him slowly, savouring the feel of him in your hand, the way he twitches and grows even stiffer under your touch.

“Fuck- faster, baby,” he moans into your mouth, relishing in your grip.

You obey his instructions and pump his cock as best as you could, considering your head is in the clouds thanks to his fingers stretching you open. Every stroke of his digits, every brush of his thumb, pushes you closer to the edge. Your moans are soft, breathy, filled with the urgency of your desire. His name slips from your lips in a whispered plea, and he responds by increasing the tempo, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding as he matches the rhythm of your desperate strokes on his member.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers against your lips, his breath hot and tantalising.

The universe narrows to the sensation of his fingers inside you, a visceral and intense dance. Your body responds eagerly, hips moving in sync with his touches, each thrust bringing you closer to that wonderful, unavoidable release. The pressure rises, your muscles tense, and you breathe in small, quick spurts. Your grasp on his cock is non-existent, and your foremost focus is now on your own high.

And then, with one final, perfectly timed movement of his pointer and middle fingers pressing up against your wall, you shatter. Pleasure washes over you in waves, your body convulsing in his arms, a keening cry escaping your lips. As you come down from the high, your breaths ragged and your body trembling, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

"I'm going to make sure I'm never subtle again," Jake growls, his voice thick with craving.

Without hesitation, he pushes you onto the bed, the urgency in his movements undeniable. He stands over you, stroking himself with a mixture of need and appreciation, his eyes dark with lust. In one swift motion, he grabs your panties and tears them away, the sound of ripping fabric echoing the raw intensity between you.

To have you laying in front of him, your pretty new dress that only he has gotten to see you in now splayed across his bedsheets, the slit sitting on each side of you, exposing your wet cunt, it’s a dream come true.

Jake climbs on top of you, his body a solid, reassuring presence. He positions himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your slick folds, the tip of his member kissing your clit, causing you to jolt your back off the bed, the feeling overstimulating against the sensitive rosebud. 

His hands grip your hips possessively, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. "All these years," he mutters, his voice a rough whisper, "I fucking held myself back. But I can't wait any longer, baby."

With a powerful thrust, he enters you, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, your body arching up to meet him, the sudden invasion a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and demanding, his pent-up desire driving him forward.

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you buck up to match his rhythm, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared passion, the bed creaking beneath you, the wet sounds of your joining, and the mingled cries of pleasure escaping both of your lips.

Jake's left hand moves from your hips, trailing up your body, slipping over the fabric of your sundress. He pulls down the top, exposing your perfect tits. His eyes darken with lust as he watches them bounce with each thrust, a look of sheer delight crossing his features. He hates to admit it, but during drill practices, he eyes the way they bounce under your t-shirt, only wishing to see them bare. This is much better than he could have ever imagined. He leans down, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling with a fervour that makes you moan loudly.

The sensation of his mouth on you, his tongue swirling around your sensitive peak, sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, amplifying the feeling of his cock pounding into you, your walls tightening and drawing him in further. He switches to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, his teeth grazing lightly, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Jake," you moan, the intensity of the moment building once again. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

"Never," he growls, his voice a primal promise. "I’m going to make you mine, finally."

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubs it in tight, circular motions, perfectly in sync with his thrusts. The added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your entire body trembling with the force of your impending climax.

His movements become even more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with a force that drives you both to the brink. The friction, the heat, the overwhelming need—it all converges into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your second climax crashes over you, your body convulsing around him, pulling him deeper into your core.

With a final, shuddering thrust, Jake finds his release, his moan mingling with yours as he empties himself inside you, hot spurts of his cum filling you up to the brim. The sensation of his warmth spreading through you, the feel of his body pressed so intimately against yours, sends you spiralling into a shared afterglow of satisfaction and exhaustion.

Breathless and trembling, Jake collapses on top of you, his weight a comforting presence. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting lazy kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and tender against your flushed skin. His hands stroke your sides gently, tracing the curve of your waist, his touch soothing and affectionate.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "You wouldn’t even believe how much."

Your arms wrap around him, kissing the top of his head adoringly. “I have a slight clue,” you titter, looking down at his exhausted frame. He looks so cute in this position. Ironically, you have been in this exact pose before; cradling him while he places his head on your chest, except typically you’re in matching pyjamas and watching one of his superhero movies.

How it took you both his long to realise you both liked one another is beyond bafflement. 

Glancing up at you with those shimmering eyes and bright smile, Jake pouts the way he always does, making your heart melt. “I really did find you beautiful, before you dolled yourself up like this,” he explains, hoping that you don’t think for a minute that it was the dress that caused this turn of events. It helped, for sure, but he would have fucked you in front of everyone on the first day he saw you if it was socially acceptable.

Kissing his forehead, much like he does to you, you reassure him. “I know. And I fancied you well before I saw you in that white towel,” you laugh, injecting some lightheartedness into the tender moment.

Sitting up and pulling out of you with a hiss, Jake’s eyes roam your body once again. “We should get you cleaned up before we go to the pool party,” he smiles, slightly sad that he has to share you with the team, rather than spend more alone time with you.

“Or…” you trail off, sitting on your elbows.

“Or?” he prompts, curiosity piqued.

“We could stay here? Order in and just relax the way we always do?” The suggestion is symbolic to you both, each of you scared to admit your feelings the past few years for fear that it would change your relationship dynamic. But nothing has to change, rather just adapt around your already established friendship.

Smiling widely, Jake nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” He looks at your exposed breasts, a smirk etching on his face. “Can we add fucking some more to that list?”

You laugh, reaching up to pull him back down into a kiss. “Absolutely, but I was still VIP of the game today so I think I deserve something special,” you tease, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He grins against your lips, his hand sliding back down your body to cup your breast. “Fuck yes, anything you want, baby. I’ll make sure it’s better than any trophy.”

His words send a thrill through you, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "Good," you murmur, your lips brushing against his. "Because I've got a few ideas in mind."

_____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

can I request self aware genshin with a moth creator reader.

like the creator has moth traits like wings and interest in light, I want to see what u do with the concept.

Ooh, very interesting concept Anon! I have a few brainrots I got from this, don't mind me—

Moth!Creator Reader Headcanons :)

100% addicted to anything that produces light. Reader would be the walking definition of "moth drawn to a flame" and to the LITERAL extent.

All the Pyro Users be having heart attacks now. Yoimiya be worrying what Reader would do when they see fireworks ngl LOL

In Fontaine, liget NO PYROTECHNICS while Reader is around. Furina would have another PTSD moment in her life if she ever hears that the Reader or their precious moth wings got burnt. Girlie would have PTSD moments with BOTH water and fire.

According to Spirit animal stuff (very brief research—I basically just googled it once and called it a day), moths are peaceful, reserved, and introspective in terms of their personality traits. Yes, that means Reader is all of those. No violence. And Reader is definitely emotionally strong.

But seriously though, if by any chance Reader decides to go fly towards the sun, do note that Venti is gonna have to channel the winds to fly the Reader back down. Oh, Reader wants to go see a Liyue's Lantern Rite? Zhongli. Reader wants to see Yoimiya's fireworks? They need to take Lady Guuji or the Raiden Shogun with them. Anything peaked the Almighty Creator's interest in the Opera Epiclese? Allow her magnificence, Lady Furina, or the Symbol of Justice himself, Iudex Neuvillette, to accompany Their Grace.

Safe to say they are not gonna leave the Reader alone with their constant obsession with anything that produces light. Kinda have no choice but to breathe over their shoulder at this point—

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Reader's gonna have a million bodyguards the moment they land on Teyvat LOL. They ain't risking anything atp. Hope you guys enjoyed this tho!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

[pathologicalreid]

could you do a third part to buried alive where the reader finally gets a bit better and goes out into the field for the first time and then the team goes and gets drinks after bc they are so proud of her :) -🌱

back again | S.R.

part one | part two

in which you go back into the field (and kick ass)

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category? angst and then fluff

content warnings: established relationship. PTSD undertones. guns and physical fighting. reader is paired with morgan and kicks ass. usual cm case stuff. going to a bar and alcohol consumption. use of 'ass'. reader is referred to as a girl.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey anon i love you!!! i never expected people to like this story so much, but im so grateful i hope you enjoy!! thanks for reading <3 don't forget to like and reblog <3333333333

It felt good. Standing outside of a suspect's house with Morgan felt normal to you, having your firearm holstered, felt right.

He was trying to get ahold of the team, but the two of you were far from the town and, apparently, cell service. “The call keeps dropping, but they know where we are. They should be on their way,” he told you, getting out of the car. “If you’re uncomfortable going in, you don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the SUV. “I’ve got your back,” you responded self-assuredly. It was your first case back in the field, and besides, you weren’t about to let Derek walk into the lion's den alone.

Despite your attempt at confidence, you hadn’t planned on going to a suspect's house. The two of you had been on your way back from talking to a victim’s family, meaning you didn’t have vests. “I know you do,” Morgan confirmed, removing his sunglasses and snapping the temples down. “Go around back, I’ll take the front,” he said.

Nodding, you unholstered your weapon and kept it pointed toward the ground, you took a deep breath before wrapping around the white farmhouse.

Paranoid thoughts pelted your brain. Did you remember to shut off your phone’s ringer? What if the suspect had a gun? What if the information you were given was wrong and you didn’t have probable cause?

You shook your head, peeking in through the open blinds, you saw the kitchen. The town you were in was on the smaller side, and the only thing that surrounded you was farmland. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and wished you had been given more time to prepare, having comms right now would be remarkably helpful.

Approaching the back door, you leaned against the siding before reaching over and turning the doorknob. It was already unlocked, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. You swung the door open and stepped inside the house, pointing your Glock around the kitchen, you saw Morgan entering the living room in your peripheral vision. “Clear!” You called out, and shortly after, Morgan called the same.

Once you had cleared the main floor, Morgan moved upstairs and you moved downstairs, pulling your flashlight from your belt, you pointed it down the steps.

“Jackson Fike this is the FBI,” you called, making yourself known. You reached the bottom of the stairs, just to see another door, wide open. “Damn it,” you cursed, “Morgan, he’s running!” You shouted, hoping your voice would be able to carry up two flights of stairs.

You pocketed your flashlight and took off running out the door. Distantly, you saw a man fitting the suspect's description sprinting towards the woods. Without a second thought, you followed, expecting Derek to be not far behind you.

Thankfully, it was still light outside, the scent of the damp earth filled your senses, but it didn’t overwhelm you. You wouldn’t let it.

You skidded to a halt in the forest, keeping your back to a tree so you could be attacked from behind, “Jackson Fike, you can’t keep running like this. You know as well as I do that the road ends here.” You spoke loudly, hoping he heard you from wherever he had disappeared into the woods.

His choices here boiled down to giving himself up or being on the run for the rest of his life. Based on the profile the team had put together, he would never be able to leave this town. Not by choice, at least.

The snap of a twig gave his location away, you twisted your body in the direction of the noise. Your ears perked up like a bloodhound. “Jackson, if you come with me and tell me where the girls are, maybe I could see about keeping you close to home. Close to your house, that’s what’s important, right?” You tried to negotiate with him. You didn’t know if he was armed, but you did know that suicide by cop wasn’t in his profile. It was also less paperwork if you cuffed him without a fight.

“You can’t make me that promise, agent,” he responded. His voice was gravelly despite only being in his late thirties. “Why would I negotiate with a fed when I could just kill one instead?” He asked.

His question sent a chill down your spine all the way down to where your handcuffs rested on your back. “You’re right,” you ceded, “You’d be worshipped in prison for killing a fed, but why take that chance?”

In a flash, the UnSub smacked your wrist, causing a misfire into the trees, and making your weapon hit the ground.

That was fine, your marksmanship was good enough to pass your qualifications, but hand-to-hand was where you really excelled. He charged at you, but you jumped out of the way.

Closer to the farmhouse you heard voices, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. Instead, you used your one boxing lesson with JJ and kicked. The inside of your foot provided enough surface to daze your opponent, he stumbled around, and you made sure to keep both of your feet firmly planted to the ground.

He swung back, but you ducked just in time to feel the breeze of his swing against your face. In response, you swung back, hitting him across the face.

Jackson retaliated, using both hands to push you into a tree, crushing your shoulder but not doing anything to stop you from throwing another hit, striking him on the head, and causing him to fall to the ground. He groaned as you crouched down and pulled your cuffs out, fastening them around his wrists.

As you read him his rights, the local police and the rest of your team approached you. Emily looked at you warily, Spencer was searching for injuries, but Morgan was grinning. He was like a giddy little kid who had heard the ice cream truck turn on his street.

Handing off the UnSub to a local, you eyed Morgan suspiciously, “What are you smiling at?” You asked, rotating your shoulder in a failed attempt to make it feel better.

“You took that guy down,” Derek said, gesturing to where the police officer was now taking the UnSub.

Confused, you shrugged, “Yeah, and?”

He laughed again, “Oh, you are so back, pretty girl.”

A flight later, you were hunched over takedown paperwork, something you certainly hadn’t missed during your time away from the field. At the desk adjacent to yours, Spencer was flipping through a book, waiting for you so you could go home.

After initialing each page and signing the last one, you placed the papers into the confidential file. Going up the stairs to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the door, “Come in.”

You stepped into the office and reached over to hand him the file, “My takedown paperwork for Jackson Fike.”

He nodded, the stern look on his face fading as he looked at you, “You did impressive work today, Y/L/N. By taking the initiative to arrest Fike, you saved the three girls he had captive.”

Shrugging, you fiddled with his nameplate, “I just did what felt right.”

“Other agents would’ve shot him, and it would’ve been justified, but you didn’t,” Hotch said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s good to see you out in the field again,” he told you in that fatherly, parental tone of his.

You looked out the window of his office, “It’s good to be back out, sir.” Watching as the rest of the team gathered back into the bullpen, “I thought everyone had already left?”

Hotch set your file down and stood from his desk, “I believe they were all waiting for you in Garcia’s office.”

Confused, you walked outside of the office and down the steps, “Hey?” You said cautiously, looking around at everyone, “What’s going on?” You looked at Spencer, but he just shrugged like he didn’t know any more than you did.

“We,” Derek said, “are going to O’Keefe’s,” he said, grinning as you reached over your desk to grab your bag and your coat.

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you looked at the team curiously, “I’m getting the sense that I don’t have much of a choice in this outing.”

Grinning, Penelope excitedly walked towards you, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the bullpen, “you don’t!”

You laughed, looking back at Spencer, who was just smiling at you. It wasn’t in your nature to turn down what Emily called ‘team bonding’, so the lot of you went to the familiar bar, a place you hadn’t been in nearly four months.

At the same table as always, standing room only with the eight of you, Rossi paid for all of your preferred drinks. Something you had learned to not protest over the years, as long as he was there, he’d never let you pay for your drinks.

Casually, Spencer had his arm around your waist, the two of you were more affectionate outside of the office. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin. Naturally, Spencer didn’t say anything in front of the team when you mentioned being shoved into a tree, but behind closed doors, he had asked to take a look at it.

You hummed in response, leaning into his touch, “Better, just bruised a bit.”

He dropped his hand back down to your waist, “good,” he whispered, ducking his head, and pressing a kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

Grabbing your attention, Derek cleared his throat and raised his glass in your general direction. “Tonight is about you, pretty girl,” he said, causing everyone else to turn to you. Your cheeks burned, “not only did you kick some UnSub ass, but you threw yourself back into the field after months on the sidelines.”

At your side, Spencer squeezed your hip, you were grinning like a fool.

“It has been an honor to be able to watch you reclaim yourself. I, for one, am proud of that accomplishment,” Morgan continued. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Thank you. All of you, really.” You reached forward where everyone was clinking their glasses before taking a sip. Setting your glass down, you turned and looked at Spencer, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

He dropped a kiss to your lips, earning a whoop from Garcia. When he pulled away, he smiled at you softly, “I love you too.”

[lowkeyrobin]

HII so I was reading your who you write for and saw you write for Charlie Bushnell, so I was wondering if I could get like reader and Charlie at like the an interview???

Thank you -🍄

hell yeah of course 🙏🙏 ; thank you 🍄anon, hope you enjoy 🫶🫶 ; i dunno how but this got a little off topic?? I apologize

CHARLIE BUSHNELL ; the interview

summary ; youre a journalist, he's an actor

warnings ; language, little cringe kissing scene (totally sfw dw)

disclaimers ; I said "scandalous ankles" because back in the olden days ankles and showing any skin was considered scandalous, for anyone who didn't know. reader is described to be not into fitness stuff, also don't mind me not knowing shit about fitness/weightlifting

word count ; 883

masterlist

"Hi, welc-hum inside." You smile, waving to Charlie as he enters the room. You then cringe at yourself in embarrassment. "Sorry, hi, welcome." You awkwardly chuckle, "I apologize, my words are all tangled today"

"You're good" He waves, a comforting smile on his face. He wears a black t-shirt with a logo in the corner and design on the back, paired with some jorts and sneakers like he just came from the gym. You didn't mind though, you urged your guests to come comfortable over casual.

Video interviews that weren't in front of a live crowd were the best for both of you, thank God. Meeting this Godsend of a man nearly gave you a heart attack. Just looking at his gorgeous eyes and his perfect features, nothing was wrong with him whatsoever. He was genuinely a 10/10.

He sits down in the guest chair across from yours, watching you sift through a desk a few feet away, looking for something. Your dress pants rise at the ankles every time you make a step, revealing more of your scandalous ankles, covered by socks.

You finally sit down, apologizing for taking so long to find your notebook where you held a few questions and conversation starters. The cameras begin rolling, and you introduce yourself and Charlie as per usual.

"So, what's it like being on set, with all the cameras, lights, props, and green screens? What are the action scenes like?"

Charlie lightly smiles as he gives you an answer, using his hands to talk a little bit. He seemed a little tense and nervous, but you didn't point it out or blame him, it took you years to be fully comfortable where you sat.

"What even are you? Cause like, you're an interviewer but also a journalist, what do you prefer being called?" The curly haired boy asks you.

You shrug, "Journalist, I guess. Interviewer could be put like, inside the circle of journalism, I'd say. I'm a journalist before I'm an interviewer"

He nods, giving you a gorgeous smile that you had to quickly look away for. You discreetly hide your flushed face, looking down at your notebook.

You write down some memorable quotes as you sit and chat with him, bringing up some interesting conversation and learning more about being on set and the production behind media.

After the cameras are off, you thank him and invite him to stay for some aftertalk and lunch. You came in with a large bowl of taco salad you needed to finish before it went bad and were offering it to anyone who wanted it. He accepts the offer, staying back in the break room with you to eat some of that salad you'd brought in. In his words, it was very much better than whatever fast food he was going to go get before returning home.

Your conversation quickly turns into one regarding music and working out, although you weren't too into fitness, the occasional jog here and there keeping you healthy, apparently.

You both stand up, setting your bowls and forks in the dishwasher to get them cleaned. You stand against the counter as he leans his hand against it a couple feet away.

He pulls up his t-shirt sleeve, flexing his arm to show off his muscles. He's trying to impress you, mostly, but you had asked how frequently he worked out. Not his fault.

"Usually lift about 145"

You nod, paying more attention to his face than his muscles. Not exactly your question, but you'd take it.

"You okay?" He asks, seeing you zoned out staring at him.

"Yeah, sorry-"

"Am I that handsome to you?" He asks, lightly teasing you.

"Wh- I mean, hey now-"

He lightly giggles, stepping forward a bit.

You stare into his brown eyes, colored like a dark chocolate mocha. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, seeing your eyes almost glimmer as they stare into his.

He's just a guy, you're an interviewer, a journalist. This is weird, isn't it? Is it not?

"May I?..." He whispers, looking down at your lips, then up at your eyes.

Triangle Theory.

You nod, a soft smile painting your face.

He quickly embraces your lips with his, hands resting on your waist. You melt into his kiss, your bodies tied together. He picks you up, hands resting behind your thighs, placing you on the counter.

You quickly pull away, hands on his shoulders as he stands between your legs. "Okay, what the fuck? Do that again"

He smiles, looking up at you. His arms are now loosely wrapped around your hips and waist area, his curls falling into place like dominoes.

"You're an interesting one"

"Says you, actor guy"

"Don't try and play me at my own game"

You open your mouth to speak, but shut yourself up, seeing the smug look on his face.

He holds your left hand in his right, a slight panic running through both of your heads as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

You speak up now, finding your stomach filled with butterflies.

"You make me want to grab a dictionary and manually find the words I'm looking for to describe you and how attractive that was."

He lightly laughs, kissing your hand.

"Whatever you say, journalist"

[churipu]

Hello lovely 😊 I hope you're feeling well.

I was wondering if I can request reader sparring with the jjk men (especially with Itadori + any others). As they are sparring they goof off and play fight and the jjk men find out reader is ticklish (or vice versa!)

JJK MEN + TICKLISH PARTNER

featuring. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, geto suguru x reader

warning. cursing :>

note. anon my love, i'm so sorry this took so long </3 and yes hunny i'm feeling absolutely amazing, i hope you are too. as a ticklish person, yes. this request, yes. i hope you like it, mwah mwah <33

ITADORI YUUJI. sparring in between you both was a routine, both yuuji and you would spend at least two hours amongst twenty four to spar against each other.

"i learnt a new move, wanna see it?" yuuji offers, wiping a bead of sweat from the side of his face. he was breathing heavily in exhaustion but the adorement in his eyes was there as he looks at you.

"so i'm the punching bag?" he nods his head happily, you chuckled shaking your head at his look but nodded nonetheless, "you're so lucky that you're cute."

yuuji was no longer a stranger to the word 'cute' coming from you, he likes it. and he's proud of it, "i know," he laughs, approaching you. you just stood there and waited for what he was about to do.

the male latches his fingers on both side of your waist, squeezing them lightly — you pulled yourself away from his grip at the tingle you felt, narrowing your eyes at him, "is this going to be something that involves tickling?"

yuuji was such a lost cause. he shook his head, until it hits him. you were ticklish. the corner of his lips twitched up and the next second he was on top of you, "forget about the new move, i have a better move — tickle attack!"

god, your worst nightmare. his fingers slithering your waist, curling lightly on your clothed skin as you can't help but to squirm and let out a string of laughter, pleading for him to stop.

just hope he doesn't use it on you the next time you spar (he totally will).

GOJO SATORU. the first time he found out you were ticklish was when he accidentally brushes your nape during a spar session, and you swung your fist at his face at the sudden tingle.

"oh, shit. are you okay? i didn't mean to do that, toru."

he didn't even care that you just punched him across his jaw, he held his jaw but blinked his doe blue eyes at you, "no, no, it's fine. are y'ticklish?"

when you flinched and pursed your lips into a line, it confirmed his question — and the male has never been so happy to know an information about you. but do be aware he will be using it against you at times, which is obviously just so unfair.

"toru! stop," you giggled, kicking your legs as he tickled your sides, "i said i didn't do it, you idiot!"

gojo hums softly, his fingers still brushing over your skin vividly, giving your sensitive skin the slightest touch of his fingers, "huh, then who was it? who ate my kikufuku, hm?"

"i don't know!" you breathe heavily, stomach hurting from laughing.

"i know it's you, baby!" he began another round of tickling, practically manhandling you at this point — he has a large grin etched onto his face as his fingers dived under your shirt, brushing your sides, "come on, i won't stop until you admit it."

you laugh, pushing his hands away, "fine, 't was me! it looked great so i had a little taste."

he had a satisfied smile on his face, placing a short kiss on your lips, "wasn't so hard, right? and a little taste?"

"shut up! i ate all six of it." he loves to tickle you randomly, so do be aware of it.

GETO SUGURU. unlike gojo or yuuji, geto wouldn't take advantage of you being ticklish. he accidentally finds out while he was visibly losing in a friendly spar, so he grabbed your waist with one hand and was about to push you off of him — until he heard soft laughs escaping your lips.

he momentarily stopped moving and gave your side a light squeeze, and more laughter escaped your lips. he's so in love all he could do was lay there on the ground, smiling at you affectionately like your voice was all that mattered to him at that moment.

"'t tickles sugu." you breathe out, rolling off of his body.

"i didn't know you're pretty ticklish."

"'ts because i don't want anyone to know," you rolled your eyes, reaching a hand out for him to take. which he did, nodding in acknowledgement.

his favorite thing to do is to brush his fingers on your nape, not to make fun of you. he just does it to hear you let out a little laugh or two, your voice was so alluring that he just has to hear it.

he does it while you both are walking together, watching a movie, sparring, studying, eating, any time he gets to do it; geto would. just to hear you laugh.

"sugu, it tickles."

"sorry, baby. i like to hear you laugh," he mumbles out, nuzzling his nose to your cheek before placing a kiss.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[mxtantrights]

Hello ☺️ I really really enjoyed the boxer jason and your over all jason imagines they make me feral. I was wondering if I could request one where the reader is like all about jason and he isn't used to it and she is like a big ball of sunshine always happy to see jason and will like drop a conversation as soon as he walks into the room and go on over to him.

a/n: anon, thank you so much for this sweet message and this really juicy request!! <333 I'll have to do you one better with this request, I hope you enjoy.

Mr.Stratford is talking about something. Something about his second dog and his third wife. Or maybe it's his third do and his second wife? You can't really tell. At this point you know that he's had three wives and five dogs. And he has so many funny stories about them. He thinks it's funny but you think it's a downright snooze fest.

You keep from yawning when you decide to move a bit. That way you'll have sight of the door and see who's coming in and out. You nod on as the man continues speaking, losing a minute of your life with every word he says.

It's not until a white tuft of hair appears in the doorway do the sparkles come back into your eyes. You hand the man your flute of bubbly and starts fast walking over to him.

Jason sees you coming and holds open his arms. You launch yourself at him. He hugs you back.

"Next time we show up together." you say.

"You just walked away from the mayor of Gotham." Jason says.

"He's got three more months left until reelection. So what." you answer and shrug your shoulders.

-

You look at him. Taking him all in. The hook of his nose. His eyelashes, that are truly unfair of him to have, and his eyes. His big brown eyes.

You slide your finger down the side of his face, his cheekbone, and smile.

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

You nod slowly, "yeah just can't believe you're mine. It's kinda crazy."

"You're the one out of my league." he tries.

But you counter when you get up and straddle him. With your thighs on either side of his waist you place your hands on top of his chest. He just looks at you, with that face.

He makes the same face whenever you greet him or talk about him to himself. Like he doesn't believe it. Like he thinks it's an illusion or something.

You remind him every day it's not.

"Jason Todd, you are so far out of my league we're not even playing the same sport. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I'll wake up and earn you. Every day." you say.

Jason's eyes go a bit wide. And he holds onto your hands that are place atop his chest. You lean down and press two kisses to the back of his hands.

-

Jason comes to pick you up at work and it's like the sun is shining again. You fold up your apron and jog around the coffee counter. And when you finally meet him at the door, you stop mere inches from him.

He looks down at you with a smile.

"Hi." he says.

You smile even wider, "Hi Jason."

He shakes his head with a smile and brings you into a hug. You hug him back immediately. He rocks the both of you side to side. He also handles you away from the door to not bump into anyone coming into the coffee shop.

"Ready to go home?" he asks.

You nod as you snuggle further into his chest.

-

You lose him in a crowd once. once. It only happens once because after the two of you create a game plan. Contingencies upon contingencies to make sure it doesn't happen again.

When you and Jason are in a packed dive bar. Something about it being trivia night and also happy hour and also a celebration for surviving the latest scarecrow attack.

You're by the bar and he's trying to secure a table for the two of you. And you get a bit down trodden when you realize you can't see him near you. You start looking past the dozens of heads but you still can't find him.

So you do the one thing that you remember from a tv show once. You bend down and look at the shoes. As you crab walk through the crowd you pass by so many of them.

Until you can see his familiar brown boots. The noticeable scuff on them that you saw when he put them on just an hour ago. You pick yourself up and see his head amongst the others.

When you finally get within three feet of him you reach out and call to him. He turns around and he smiles.

"Thought I lost you." he says.

"Nope. I just looked for your boots." you answer.

"We've gotta come up with something else. What if I throw these boots away? Or if someone has the same kind?" he asks.

You put your hand on his cheek, "I'll always find you. The boots just made it easier."

[akanemnon]

Last question before I once again leave you to rest and recuperate for the rest of the hiatus.

Do you know color theory by any chance?

(And if so, can you teach me some techniques…? /nf)

Your most recently posted piece is so amazing that I can’t even put it into words. It’s cool how you can switch between styles like that. However, I hope you’re taking of yourself in the process!

If there’s anything to learn from the anon attacks, it’s that even though some people unfortunately don’t see it, being an online influencer of any sort is more of a sacrifice than it looks, and it can the tiring to the creator when others don’t understand. Im not half as popular as you are and I too am starting to feel the effects of posting almost everyday for the sake of the fans.

You’re probably the first online artist I’ve been a BIG FAN of. Not just because of your AU, but because now I’m know I’m not the only easily anxious artist out there. You’ve really inspired me, and lots of other people too, but to keep up the good work, you have to make sure you’re also okay.

Take care!

- The Kogetai Kiddo.

I know some color theory in terms of creating designs. For painting, not so much. It's a pretty complicated subject to explain, so that might take quite a bit to get into...

And no worries, I am taking care of myself and take plenty of breaks in between when I'm getting too frustrated. As for the style thing; I like to try different things once in a while to prevent stagnation. I can switch between styles thanks to practice, but changing mediums does take some getting used to. Digital painting is not exactly something I'm that good at because I don't do it that often. It takes a lot of time and energy. But it's a good challenge.

Honestly, I don't want to be titled as an "influencer" or "content creator". I'm just some person who likes sharing their work and comics that people seem to like them a lot. I'm no authority figure and I don't like seeing myself as something greater than others just because of some numbers. Numbers don't mean anything. It's the person that matters. I just wanna make art, and if it happens to make people happy, I'm happy too. Still anxiety and internal pressure can make things hard. There IS that underlying feeling of having to perform and do well. Because those are your own standards. In the end, you are your own worst critic. Anxiety is the worst, and it's an endless struggle against it. But it's possible to live with it. At some point, taking a step back and realizing you need a break is the right call.

Hoping the best for you and all the other anxious artists out there!

And with that'll be off on my last few days of break. Asks are closed now. See you back on Sunday!

(Little teaser from the next page for good measure)

[wonderlandwalker]

He Knows Better | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick tells himself not to get close to you, because what is the point? But when you survive your games he finds that he can't stop thinking about you. When he finally comes to see you, you're in pieces, and he swears to himself he will put you back together, no matter the costs. Find part 2 here: Should've Known

Content Warnings/Tags: Mentions of prostitution/sex trafficking, angst, Finnick deserving better, crying, bad representation of a panic attack, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by Anon: I loveeeee love love love your Finnick fic. It was the perfect mix of sweet and so angstyyyyy !! I'm having constant Finnick brainrot 😭 I was wondering what you think about writing a finnick × reader fic sort of loosely based on Hozier's "It Will Come Back" where reader is maybe a tribute or another Victor and the first person to show Finnick softness and kindness without asking for anything in return in so long and he's like "dont let me in with no intention to keep me" and "dont be kind to me" and he just is totally feral and obsessed with the reader ? You're such a talented writer !! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: There is this Dutch expression which goes ‘the monkey comes out of the sleeve’ loosely meaning the hidden meaning is revealed and I couldn't for the life of me think of the English equivalent that made sense to me, so, well, I hope the story is coherent. As usual, divider by @saradika

He remembers first seeing you, you were so young, but to be fair, so was he. In previous years he had always become quick friends with the tributes he was supposed to mentor, how could he not? But it didn't take him long to figure out that they never made it back, and while the company was nice for a while, the hurt in the end wasn't worth it anymore. There's something about you that he can't quite place, but it doesn't matter, because he's not going to get attached. When you first stepped into the training hall you didn't look scared, you didn't even look excited, no, you looked like you had made peace. 

He didn't get to talk to you much, you spend most of your training with Mags, not learning how to fight, but learning how to survive. And every time he watched you, he watched how your eyes lit up when learned how to filter water, he watched how proud Mags was of you each time. And he felt something tugging at him, he felt a need to get to know you. But he knew better.

Because what were the odds, he had seen this before, he had done this before. No, he shouldn't get attached to you. And yet, for the first time after returning from his own, he found himself watching the games. Watching the tributes become fewer and fewer, hoping, praying, that you'd make it through. The fewer left the more desperate he became. You've gotten this far, don't let the luck run out just yet. He saw how your last opponent fell, and he saw your face in the centre of the screen, of virtually every screen. And once again, you didn't look excited, you looked like you had found peace again, and maybe, just maybe, he let himself believe he could too, that you could show him. 

He didn’t go see you after, it wouldn't be of any use. What more did he have to offer you, you did not need a mentor anymore. He had made peace, he had made peace with never seeing you again. So what was the difference if you were alive or not? That's what he thought, if he gave in now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to let go, it would keep coming back. 

It wasn't until a few months later when someone knocked on his door, and in a sleepy haze, he opened it without thinking. He had spent the night at the capitol, and he never managed to get much rest after. Usually, when he had been gone for the night, Mags would come to check in on him, and have Valerian tea with him. He doubted it actually worked, but the effort was enough to brighten his day. So he opened the door, but it wasn't Mags, it was you. Your face was fuller, it had more colour, but the bags under your eyes were still there. Would Mags bring you Valerian tea as well? No, no he needed to stop thinking about you. The last time he had actually seen you was when you won. He had forced himself to avoid you ever since, he hadn't been completely sure why anymore, but now he knew again. The way you looked at him gave him hope, hope he couldn't afford. “What do you want” he asked, he sounded upset, and in a way he was, but the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed made him regret it. 

And so he opened the door further, stepping aside, and you didn't need more of an invitation before you walked in. You took a seat at his small kitchen table, and he decided it would be impolite not to join you, so he sat down as well. He was about to talk, but you beat him to the punch.

“Snow came to see me.” There is was he thought, the reason, everyone always had a reason. Still, he found himself allowing you to continue, wanting to hear your voice again, even if it brought bad news. 

“I talked to Mags about it, but she said I should come see you, so here I am.” You chuckled, but the situation was not something that asked for it, must be nerves, he thought, but why were you nervous, surely he didn't make you nervous. 

“Look, I don’t want to bother you with my problems Finnick, I know you're dealing with enough yourself, but I don’t know what else to do.” Your eyes glossed over, and you looked like you were about to start crying, but you didn't. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but what was there to say? And so you two sat in silence, he was looking at you, he was memorizing your face. This was the last time he would let himself see you. He didn't want to get close to you, and with how mesmerizing you were to him, he knew better.

And yet, as days passed, he found himself thinking of you. Whenever he needed comfort, he thought of you, the way you smiled at him when he told you a nervous joke. He could get lost in the memory of your eyes, and more often than not, he did. Every day he spent without seeing you made his heart hurt. 

Without thinking, he found himself walking to your door. It was like he wasn't in control of his own feet. He was in constant agony with himself. He wanted to be with you, but your kindness was one he couldn't afford, because it had the power to break him. He knocked on your door, not even aware he was doing so until he heard the sound echo back to him. He heard rustling, but he didn't hear you approaching the door, so he knocked again, and for good measure, he decided to call out. “Y/n? It’s me, it’s Finnick”. He heard someone approach the door at that, and a little bit of hope sparked inside him that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, but he knew better. 

The door opened, but it wasn't you that he came face to face with, it was Mags. She was standing in your hallway with a sad smile on her face, and she didn't say anything, but she looked to the stairs on the right end corner. He didn't need any more encouragement, and he sped up them, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door he was in front of, but there wasn't an answer. But when he listened more closely, he could hear crying coming from the other side. You were crying. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but whatever it was that had caused this, he swore to himself he would fix it, even if it broke him. 

And so he entered the room, opening the door softly so as not to startle you, but it didn't matter. He saw you in the corner, you had pulled your knees to your chest and he couldn't see your face from where you had hidden it, but his heart broke over it nonetheless. He walked towards you, testing the waters, testing his luck. He was scared for you, but mostly, he was scared you wouldn't want to see him. When you heard him, your head shot up to look at him. The way in which your eyes were bloodshot and swollen made him want to punch a hole in the wall next to you. The way your voice cracked when you said his name made him want to curl up right next to you. he got closer to you, kneeling down in front of you. Allowing you to take the next steps on your own time.

After a few minutes, you had slightly calmed down while he was tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You spoke to him, but you didn't look him in his eyes.

“They’re bidding on me Finnick, they’re bidding on me like I’m something to possess”

The feeling of dread that came over him was something he had never felt before. He thought he had gone through all someone could. He thought there was nothing that could hurt him anymore in a way he didn't already, but he had been wrong. 

He was willing to do anything for you to be spared from this, but he knew it wasn't any use. 

He knew better. And so he did all he could, taking you in his arms and whispering reassuring words, until your crying and your shaking stopped, and you seemed at peace again. 

He had tried himself to get away from what snow had wanted, what the capitol had wanted, he tried everything he could think of, but he couldn't get away from it. He had made peace with the fact that people always wanted something from him, and maybe that's why he couldn't get you out of his head, because you were the only person that was at peace with him, without anything more, just him. So he told you the only thing he could. He told you he’d be there for you, that you’d get through it together. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he knew it was what you needed to hear, it was what he had needed to hear, except there had been no one to tell him. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if you needed him.

But he won't shut you out again, he knows better.

Part 2: Should've Known

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full headcanons of MC being forced to attack M6 please 🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: When MC is forced to attack M6

~ oh boy, anon friend, we're really not holding back today are we XD Hope you enjoy this sequel! ~

CW for non-gory injury descriptions, trauma disassociation, and intense guilt

-- to set the scene --

You don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive yourself.

In the moment, all you could feel was terror. The mage you were fighting rippled away as a haze of fear washed over your senses, and suddenly your worst nightmare was right next to you and readying itself to tear you limb from limb. You don't know how long you screamed and lashed out for. You don't know how many rules of fair fighting you abandoned to stay alive.

All you know is that, eventually, the terror subsides, and now you're looking at the pained face of your beloved as blood slowly trickles down their temple.

Julian

The first thing you feel is the way his arms are pinning you to him, effectively restraining you with a desperate hug

He's quietly talking to you, watching your eyes clear as you return to your senses, whispering "hey. hey, I'm here" over and over again until you're able to stop struggling and meet his gaze

You're almost relieved to see that you only managed to hit his head once, until he shakily loosens his grip and you can feel where your hands have angrily clawed and pummeled at his back

He's already nudging you to get back home, leaning a little heavily on your shoulder and telling you over and over again that it's not your fault, the threat's gone, nothing's hurt that can't be fixed

Refuses to take care of his own wounds until you've let him tend to yours and until you've started to believe that things will get better

It's hard not to let your heart break when he finally takes off his shirt and lets you get a look at his back. You tore it to shreds

Not to mention the cracked ribs that clearly make breathing hurt

He doesn't let you dwell on it, instead passing his doctor's tools back to you and talking you through the process of patching him up. Any apology is interrupted with "ah ah ah, my dear, doctors don't say sorry when they're helping people. It's not your fault."

Beyond the initial fear of losing you to the madness, he's not shaken up by your capacity to hurt him. If anything, once he's healed up, he starts praising your ferocity whenever he can

Asra

They're a little ways away from you when you regain lucidity, one shaking arm extended to hold up the magic barrier you were just struggling against. They look terrified - and heartbroken

As soon as you stop fighting and your legs begin to give out, he's sprinting the several feet over to catch you. There's a stream of apologies and reassurances leaving his mouth as he reaches you

"It's okay - it's okay - I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay - I'm sorry I didn't stop it sooner. Just hold on, my love, it'll all be okay -"

Doesn't want to let go of you. Mostly because they're injured and exhausted too, but also because it's easier not to let you see how badly they're hurt if you're both hiding in each other's necks

Won't let you look at him until he heals you first

When you do, you have a to keep a strong face, or you know they'll cover it up and take care of it themself. You didn't get through the barrier, but it seems your powerful magic attacks did. Effectively

The arm that was holding up the shield has bruises and cuts all over it. There's angry red lines reaching from his elbow across his chest where you apparently sent lightning dancing over it

They let you heal them because they know it'll help you, but they won't talk about such a painful thing openly. They don't want you to feel like you have to apologize. The nightmares think otherwise

When he does talk about it, it was seeing you so scared of him, like he was a threat to you. Like he'd hurt you. It's his greatest fear

Nadia

You open your eyes to find yourself at the other end of her drawn sword, the blade carefully hovering at an angle where only the flat of it will strike you. Her eyes look wide and scared - vulnerable

You can tell she's been moving defensively this whole time because she doesn't take advantage of your sudden pause. Rather, she watches you cautiously as you sink to the ground

She wants to believe it's over, but she's not putting her sword away until she knows for certain that it's done. Prove you're back to her

Can't bring herself to touch you or to let you touch her until you're both finished talking. You need to tell her what happened to make you act like that. She needs you to know what she did and why

She did everything she could not to hurt you. She promises

Doesn't hold it against you at all. She knew from the moment your eyes went hazy that you weren't acting of your own volition, and she feels truly sorry for the frightening thing you must've endured

But that doesn't change how startling it was to be on the receiving end of your fear and aggression. She needs to know you're okay. She needs to know she's okay. She needs to know it'll stay that way

Has a Palace medic tend to your wounds separately, but does eventually let you use healing magic on her once she's comfortable with your touch again (though that might take a few hours at least)

Insists on holding you close that night and the following evenings. She knows she's safe with you and refuses to feel otherwise

Muriel

The more your vision clears, the more your terror changes to horror. He did nothing to stop you. He did nothing to stop you

The blood trickling down his temple meets with several gashes on his jaw and neck, there's jagged gouges across his chest and shoulders, and bruises already blooming across his stomach

And yet he's giving you the gentlest look, reaching out to you slowly the same way you've seen him calm wounded beasts in the forest. You've still done much more damage than a scared rabbit

Doesn't say much, just catches you by the shoulders when you start to fall and carefully cradles your cheek when you start to cry

You don't realize how much trauma he's fighting until you've made it back to the hut and the fine tremble in his hands hasn't left

And it's because he's so busy fighting his own awful memories that he accidentally shuts you out, not saying a word, not hearing a word, turning away after setting you down so you can't see him numbly dab at his wounds and try to get the blood out of his sight

Doesn't start to break until you start to break. Somewhere in his mind is a conviction that he's not allowed to feel bad about this because he's had worse, and your tears are his permission

Healing really begins late that night as he holds you in his lap by the fire, learning to let his own tears fall while you tend to his injuries and lament the fact that Muriel didn't protect the person most precious to you - himself

Portia

When the haze lifts, you're flat on your back, all of Portia's weight on your middle while she pins your hands to the ground above your head. The worst part is that she's openly sobbing

You can feel throbbing aches and pains all over your body where you know she fought back and you've never been so happy to be injured in your life. Sadly, you still did a fair amount of damage

So relieved to see you stop struggling and recognize her that she collapses into hugging you and telling you it's over and it's okay and she loves you so much and she's so glad you're back

Furious at the mage that pulled this kind of trick on you, to the point that she can't even hear you bring it up without immediately venting all her anger at them and all the things they deserve

This accidentally makes it impossible for her to accept any kind of apology from you, because to her you're a victim. (which, you are, but that doesn't change the injuries your hands gave her)

Quick to try to cheer both of you up, dragging you home to her cottage, pulling out her first aid kit, and handing you what you need to patch her up while she gets started on you. It'll be okay

Starts processing it pretty openly the next day, at which point you're finally able to share more of how you felt through the whole thing and make the apologies you want to make (she forgives you)

There's a short period of time where you're both extra careful about consensual touch, but all in all, she bounces back quickly

Lucio

You can see his golden arm up and guarding his head while he readies his human hand to push you away again. His gaze is scared and worried, and yet vacant enough to know he's acting on instinct

Stays frozen as you fall, still mentally struggling to realize it's over, before finally collapsing next to you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. You're back. You're here. He's so glad you're here

Shaking and terrified that everything's going to fall apart after this. He just saw you more scared and angry than he's ever seen you before - as scared and angry as he's seen others often look at him

He knows deep down you were under a spell that made you see something else, but there's a worry present in his brain that this was actually you awakening to your true feelings about him

It doesn't help that he doesn't remember what all he did to fight back. Years of combat experience and battlefields kicked in, and all his thoughts went on hold while his body went on autopilot

And the last time someone he loved fought to kill him - well - it was his mother. That did not end well

He can't bring himself to care about injuries until he knows you won't leave him, until he knows you're going to work through this with him. Until he knows you can still love each other

Once you're reconciled and bandaged up, he's in his element. The amount of tender attention you're showing him is feeding his soul

Still subconsciously keeps his guard up around you, for a while

[schlattsdarling]

heyy, can you do 2 & 3 with Schlatt pleasee

p.s. can i be 🍉 anon pls!

hope you don't mind I combined theses two because they're similar, welcome 🍉 anon!

2. “Is that my shirt?”

3. “We’d make such a cute couple”

You groan as you throw the duvet off of you - it’s the middle of winter and yet it still feels like you’re living in the desert. Patting the mattress, you feel around for your phone - 2:19am - well that’s your sleep schedule fucked. You groggily plug your phone in to charge and decide to venture out into the kitchen and get a drink.

“Is that my shirt?” A voice echo’s in front of you

“FUCK! Schlatt what the fuck is wrong with you, gonna give me a heart attack, fucking idiot” You complain ignoring him spread out on the couch, movie long forgotten

“I’ve been searching for the shirt for weeks, doll” He says, ignoring your complaining

You shrug and make your way over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. “What're you doing up still?” you question him, jumping up to sit on the counter.

“Can’t sleep, only ended stream like… an hour ago” He responds checking the time on his phone

“Good stream?” You ask with no intent to listen to his response. You’re more focused on the way his hair is slightly ruffled, eyes tired but emitting a sense of safety as the warm glow of the candles in the room reflect. His rambling about how it went came to an end when you walked closer to him.

“Move please” You hum, him and his two cats are taking up the entire couch - he sighs and makes room for you, patting the seat closest to him.

You absentmindedly rest your head on his shoulder, allowing him to wrap a comforting arm around your waist. Humming in contentment, you stroke Jambo listening to his purrs.

“What is this?” You half-heartedly laugh at the movie on the TV.

He smiles looking down at you, “Some shitty 2000’s rom-com... it's the same old cliché shit”.

You shrug, "Eh, I don't mind these films - I mean yeah they're cliché but at least their love was real, y'know".

"Yeah I guess so" He replies shrugging too. You're still staring up at him, his eyes are hazed with confliction and hesitation. Raising your eyebrows at him does nothing so you ask, "What?".

"What? Oh nothing doll" He says with uncertainty lacing his voice, "Seems like nothing" You say in a teasing manner as he rolls his eyes.

There's a comfortable silence that lingers in the air between you two, the room is dimly lit and your bodies are entwined in a comfortable embrace. The colours from the rom-com movie are reflected on your content faces. You see Schlatt 'subtly' move his hand closer to yours, you take the initiative and gently intertwine your fingers with him; you swore you saw him blush but you looked away so he couldn't see your cheeks were the exact same.

"Ewww" Schlatt groans as the couple start making out, "You're so childish" You retaliate smirking up at him.

"This should not be a PG 12 film, more like 16- they're like proper going at it" He protests jokingly. "They're a cute couple though, admit it" You say to him

"We’d make such a cute couple" Schlatt whispers under his breath

"What was that?" You retort way too quick, eyes darting up to him, body turning too

"I- um, what? Didn't say anything" He quips adverting his gaze to the floor

"No... what did you say?" You probe, your hand coming to the back of his head, gently moving him to look at you.

"We'd be cute together" He mutters rolling his eyes in embarrassment

"Y'think?" You question grinning at him

He does nothing except nod and return your grin - faces close together and eyes filled with nervous anticipation, it felt like a century before you both lean in and lock lips in a gentle embrace.

[theodorenmyth]

Perfect for You

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x M!Reader

Summary ; You are in a relationship with Mattheo Riddle, where your deep-seated insecurities and fear of abandonment lead you to strive for perfection, always putting his needs above your own. As the anxiety and pressure take their toll, Mattheo begins to notice the toll it’s taking on you. Through heartfelt conversations and Mattheo's unwavering support, you start to believe that being yourself is enough for the one you love.

A/N ; this is a codependent!m!reader requested by ANON, I accidentally posted this js a few mins ago and deleted it.

warnings); none

Word count ; 1.1k+

The dimly lit Slytherin common room was abuzz with quiet murmurs and the crackling of the fireplace. You sat in your usual corner, eyes flickering nervously towards the entrance every few seconds. Mattheo was late again, and the familiar gnawing anxiety began to build in your chest.

Ever since you had started dating Mattheo Riddle, you had developed an almost crippling fear of his absence. You always felt like you weren't good enough for him, a sentiment that haunted your every interaction. You tried to be perfect, to be everything he wanted, hoping that if you pleased him enough, he wouldn't leave you.

The door creaked open, and your heart leapt. Mattheo strolled in, his usual confident swagger making him look like he owned the place. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. He smiled, but you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong?

"Hey," Mattheo greeted, plopping down next to you on the couch. "What did I miss?"

"Not much," you replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just waiting for you."

Mattheo leaned back, stretching his arms. "You always wait for me. Don't you have anything better to do?"

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I like waiting for you. I like being with you."

Mattheo's gaze softened, and he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

You blushed, the warmth of his touch making your anxiety momentarily fade. "I just want to make you happy."

"And you do," he assured you, though his attention was already drifting towards his friends who were calling him over. "Hang on, I'll be right back."

As he walked away, the anxiety returned full force. You watched him laughing and talking with his friends, feeling an intense wave of inadequacy. You always felt like an outsider, like you had to constantly prove your worth to stay by his side.

The minutes dragged on, and your thoughts spiraled. What if he decided he didn't need you anymore? What if he found someone better? The anxiety grew into a suffocating pressure, and you could feel the onset of a panic attack.

You needed to be perfect. You needed to keep him happy. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way to the group. Mattheo glanced at you as you approached, raising an eyebrow.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

"Yeah, I just... I wanted to be with you," you said softly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Mattheo's friends exchanged looks, but Mattheo simply shrugged and pulled you into his side. "Alright then. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Y/N."

You forced a smile, feeling the scrutiny of his friends' gazes. They all knew how much you adored Mattheo, and you couldn't help but wonder if they thought you were pathetic for it.

"Y/N, you're always so quiet," Pansy commented, her tone teasing but with an edge of truth. "Why don't you ever join in on the fun?"

"I just... I don't want to say anything that might upset anyone," you admitted, glancing nervously at Mattheo.

Mattheo frowned, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "You don't have to worry about that. Just be yourself."

But being yourself felt impossible when you constantly feared losing him. You nodded, trying to relax and join the conversation, but the anxiety remained, a constant companion.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Later that night, you lay in Mattheo's bed, his arms wrapped around you. He was asleep, his breathing steady and calm. You, on the other hand, were wide awake, your mind racing with insecurities.

You replayed the day's events, analyzing every word, every look. Had you done enough to make him happy? Had you been perfect? What if he decided you weren't worth the trouble?

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. You couldn't let him see you like this. You couldn't let him know how much you struggled, how much you hurt. You had to be strong, for him.

In the dim light, you turned to look at Mattheo's peaceful face. He was everything to you, and you would do anything to keep him happy, even if it meant sacrificing your own well-being.

"Matty," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I love you so much. I hope I'm enough for you."

He stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, but didn't wake up. You sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

The next morning, you woke up to Mattheo's fingers tracing patterns on your back. You smiled sleepily, the anxiety momentarily forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, nuzzling closer to him.

He studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You seemed off yesterday. Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed slightly. "You sure? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know," you lied, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, really."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push further. Instead, he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too," you whispered, your heart aching with the sincerity of your words.

As the days went on, you continued to put Mattheo's needs above your own, bending over backward to keep him happy. You didn't complain, didn't voice your own struggles, because you were terrified of losing him. You tried to be perfect, to be everything he wanted, but the pressure was slowly breaking you.

One evening, as you sat together in the common room, Mattheo noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way your hands trembled slightly.

"Y/N, you need to take care of yourself," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to please me."

"But I want to make you happy," you protested, your voice cracking. "I can't lose you, Mattheo. I need you."

Mattheo's eyes softened, and he cupped your face in his hands. "And I need you, but not like this. I love you for who you are, not for some perfect version of you. Please, just be yourself."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you finally let them fall, the weight of your insecurities crashing down on you. "I'm so scared, Mattheo. I'm scared I'm not good enough for you."

"You're more than enough," he whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace. "You don't have to be perfect. I love you just the way you are."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe him. You allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you were enough.

The road to healing wouldn't be easy, and the anxiety wouldn't disappear overnight, but with Mattheo by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you began to believe that you could be loved for who you truly were, and that was a start.

[littlejuicebox]

Hi! I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't, please ignore this and I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.

I just read your Astarion X Tav fanfic where Astarion proposes. It is said that the ring he got glows whenever Astarion thinks of Tav. I was just wondering if you could write a slice of life about the ring glowing at the most random times. Maybe during a stealth mission where Tav has to stay hidden or when he is smiling in his sleep and the ring glows. I just thought it would be cute and fun to write about. You can get creative with it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, whether you end up doing this request or not. I hope you had an amazing Christmas and I hope you will have an amazing New Year's!

Hi Anon! I don’t think this is quite what you were asking for but… this is what came out! 🤷‍♀️ The smut gods blessed me and I cannot deny their gifts. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Smut below the cut.

If you haven’t read my other work and would like context, Anon is referencing a two part mini story I wrote. Click here for part 1, and click here for part 2.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only please, smut, masturbation, sex pollen, swearing/cursing, game spoilers

Word Count: 1.5K

-----

“I think we’re just… a bit out of practice, darling. It has been nearly a year since we were down here last, you know.” Astarion whispers, crouched next to you behind a Funguswood tree. He’s wiping bits of dirt, twigs, and mushroom pollen off himself with a handkerchief.

“Admit it, Astarion. You just weren’t fast enough.” You respond with a small, teasing poke of your tongue as you rearrange your weaponry and count your arrows.

The pale elf finishes wiping off the debris, and you return your attentions to the mission. You’d been contracted to scout out the vampire stronghold in the Underdark and report your findings back to Wyll and the Flaming Fists. Rumor was that the vampire hoard had wreaked absolute havoc on the Underdark; the city feared the creatures would soon return to the surface if they could not find sustenance here.

“Would you have preferred I let that wild Rothé ram you into those mushrooms in my stead?!” Astarion hisses in return while rubbing his hand over his arm, which now felt unbelievably tingly and was starting to radiate significant warmth, “Hells, what mushrooms were those, anyway?!”

You stifle a chuckle, knowing your fiancé is already past his limits of patience. You two need to get to the scouting point, set up camp, and hunker down for a few days… all while avoiding detection from the vampires or any other nefarious creatures in the Underdark. Best to do it without an ornery Astarion by your side.

“I don’t know what mushrooms those were. I’ve never seen them before.” You admit with a small shrug, “Come on my love, not much further now and then we can get you properly cleaned up.”

Astarion follows behind you in silence, apart from the occasional cursing and swiping at his skin. Gods, the heat had spread up his entire arm now. The scratching seemed to make it worse, but by the hells, he couldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted to. The two of you finally got to the cragged rock that led to a small cave where you would make camp, and he never felt more relieved in his life. He couldn’t wait to clean himself properly and be done with this burning sensation.

You glance at him briefly and then begin climbing the rock. Astarion remains below to keep you covered in case anything decides to attack while you’re left defenseless. He looks up to watch your progress and cannot help but to notice the overwhelmingly attractive curve of your bottom. It was always attractive, of course, but something about it in this moment was entirely… irresistible. Had you been working out recently in preparation for the wedding?

You’re halfway through climbing the rock when your engagement ring bursts into a spray of light. It often glows significantly at the surface, but in the blackness of the Underdark, you’re practically a beacon. Your stomach drops. Gods, how had you forgotten to take it off?

“Astarion!” You hiss in a panicked whisper, “Cut it out! Every being in all of the Underdark will know our position.”

Astarion had realized the issue as soon as the light had flared, of course. He was trying desperately to avoid thinking of you and all the delicious things he wanted to do when you two made camp, but gods he couldn’t control it. What in the hells was wrong with him? He wanted to stop, to ensure your safety, but your plump, perfect ass was practically calling his name, begging for his attention, and he wanted nothing more than to bend you over and—

He shakes his head, trying to rattle the lewd fantasies from his psyche, “I’m trying, my love! I don’t know what’s come over me I just—“

Hags. Hideous shoes. Ghouls. Manual labor. Gale.

The pale elf tries to think of all the most grotesque, unsexy things he can and push you entirely from his mind. You continue to climb, hoping to quickly reach the top and take off your ring as soon as possible. The ring is still glowing like a single star in the blackest night.

Ogres. The smell of Araj’s blood. Rats. Gale.

Gods, it was useless.

Finally, you reach the top. You rip the ring off your finger and shove it in your pack as soon as your limbs land on the surface of the cave. Astarion quickly scales the rock behind you, and when he reaches the top, you’re positively glaring at him.

“Darling, I’m sorry! I really tried. It’s just— gods damn these mushrooms!” The vampire is ripping off his shirt and scratching at his skin as the two of you walk into the little cave. Before long he’s down to his knickers and cursing as he rubs desperately at his flesh.

You’re trying to ignore your fiancé and quickly pitch the tent so you can handle whatever the hells is going on with him. A sideways glance to your pack reveals that the ring is still glowing quite intensely… perhaps more than it ever has before. Was that even possible? At any rate, you can’t get closer to the stronghold with it glowing like that.

“Astarion, I don’t know what—“ You spin around, and you’re surprised to see the elf fully nude on his blanket, doing perhaps the most provocative thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Astarion is beaded in sweat by now, and his hands are wandering over himself, chasing the burning tingle as it travels through his body. Gods, the feeling was becoming absolutely unbearable. He kept seeing visions of you and him in the throes of passion in his mind.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Did he want to stop? He couldn’t decide. All he knew was the intense tingling and burning coursing through his veins and the wonderful fantasies filling his brain. He needed release from this torture; his limbs were on fire and the sensation was spreading to his groin.

The elf knows by the throbbing pulse in his cock that his erection is at full capacity, and he feels the dribbles of precum slowly sliding from the head, down the shaft. Astarion is, admittedly embarrassed knowing you are mere feet away and witnessing such an erratic show, but he grabs his own cock regardless— gods, it felt like being possessed. He needed release and he needed it now.

As his fingers wrap around his shaft, a burst of relief travels through his body. The tingling ceases for a moment. But then, it flares again and he’s consumed by the burning feeling and vulgar thoughts of the two of you once more. He pumps his hand a few times, bucking into the sensation, and once again the torturous tingle halts.

What in the hells?

Astarion is now rolling his hips towards his own hand, groaning in pure ecstasy at the relief from the burn as well as the delicious sensation of his hands stroking his uncharacteristically sensitive member. His eyes are clasped closed, and his other hand is still wandering over his torso, chasing that burning itch.

Through panting, shaking breaths he murmurs, “Darling, is it— oh gods, is possible that those— fuck — mushrooms contained sex pollen? I’ve never— mmh, fuck.”

You’d been so enraptured by the vision of your lover touching himself in such an uninhibited display of lust that you almost didn’t hear what Astarion asked. The slickness of your arousal was starting to become apparent as you instinctively squeezed your thighs together.

“I’m… I’m not sure, my love. I’ve read of such things but I’ve never come across it… until, perhaps, now I suppose.”

Astarion isn’t really listening. Instead, he’s bucking wildly into his own hand, chasing his own release. He falls apart in front of you, with his limbs tensed and mouth agape in pure, unadulterated pleasure, clasping tightly onto his own length. The gasping, strangled moan of relief that escapes him as he reaches his climax and shoots sticky streams of hot white seed onto his abdomen ignites a fire in your groin. He’s shuddering with the rippling aftershocks of his orgasm and you feel yourself dripping with arousal as you rub your thighs together once more. This display was entirely feral.

For a few moments the vampire is breathing contentedly, eyes still shut. He’s still holding his cock, which continues to twitch insistently despite its significant spend. Your lover brings his unoccupied hand to his hair and rakes it through his disheveled, sweaty curls.

You flick your gaze to your pack and notice that it’s no longer emitting that ethereal glow. But then Astarion groans in dismay and you see light flare from your bag again. When your attention returns back to your fiancé, he’s already grasping wantonly at a second rapidly growing erection.

“Darling, I can smell you,” He hisses desperately, now slathering his own milky juices around the swollen, reddened tip of his thick cock. The veins in his arm and on his shaft are pulsing as he begins to stroke himself again, “Don’t be coy just— come over here and help me with this. Please.”

And by the gods, he asked so nicely, how could you say no?

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[vermilionsun]

[Anon request (2/2)]: “Since MC is broke, what do the LIs think of them showing affection through gifts, even if they haven't got money? I can imagine they make simple, inexpensive things like paper flowers for Leander or friendship bracelets for Ais.”

Yes yes yes~ - I don't think they'd care much about the price tbh

Ais

✩ "Hm… what is this?" Ais asks as he's handed a hand-made bracelet.

"It's a friendship bracelet I made for you," the MC replies with a smile. "I hope you like it."

✩ He's dumbfounded.

✩ Ais looks down at the bracelet in his hand and takes a moment to examine the colorful beads. He is surprisingly gentle as he handles the bracelet, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns. "You made this? For me?"

"Yep."

✩  High possibility there’s either a birb or bone charm in the middle (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻

✩ He's definitely the type to believe there's a reason behind every action someone takes.

✩ "It's handmade, huh? Why waste your time on something so pointless for me?"

✩ The MC's smile falters slightly at Ais's words, but they quickly recover. "It's not a waste of time if it's something I enjoyed making for you," they say softly. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back—"

✩ Meanwhile, Ais had already fastened it to his wrist.

✩ "Who said I didn't want it?" Ais interrupts, his eyes softening as he admires the bracelet. "You think I'd let you give me a gift, then just take it away so easily?"

✩ "I just don't understand why you would go through all this trouble for me." The MC chuckles, a hint of blush coloring their cheeks. "I wanted to show my appreciation for all you've done for me," they explain.

✩ Ais looks at the bracelet on his wrist, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, sparrow. I'll treasure it."

Leander

🗡 After yet another magic show of luck-filled lilies, Leander notices the MC sitting at the bar, busy doing something just out of view. He puts on a charming smile and takes a seat next to them. "Oh, what do we have here?"

The MC presents him with a few napkin-made lilies.

🗡 Leander's eyes widen in surprise, and he smiles as he picks one up, delicately examining the folded paper and twirling it between his fingers.

🗡 Leander is a man who enjoys both the big (̶A̶i̶s̶)̶ and the small (̶M̶h̶i̶n̶)̶ things in life.

🗡 "These are amazing," he exclaims, genuinely impressed. "Did you fold these yourself?"

🗡 "Impressive. I can't say I've ever seen napkin origami this accurate before."

🗡 I̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶, h̶e̶ r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ w̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ a̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ p̶o̶c̶k̶e̶t̶

🗡 He takes the small flower and gently tucks it behind the MC's ear, his hand lingering just long enough for them to feel the warmth of his skin at the uncovered base of his palm.

🗡 "Thank you for this lovely gift," he says with a soft smile.

Kuras

✞ He just blinks down at the object in confusion. "A bookmark?"

✞ He takes it, carefully inspecting it and smoothing his fingers over the glossy surface, intrigued by its unexpected smoothness.

✞ The bookmark is a deep shade of amethyst, with hand-painted gold designs etched into the surface. As he turns it over in his hands, he notices a small inscription on the back.

✞ Curious, he squints (bad eyesight gang, let's go) to make out the messy script that reads, 'For the most fascinating doctor.'

✞ "Ah."

✞ Speechless.

✞ For the first time since the MC woke up at his clinic after the Soulless' attack, his smile falters. A strange look flickers across his face—something caught between guilt and sorrow—there one minute and gone the next.

✞ "Do you not—"

"No, I like it..." He quickly reassures them. "Just a little startled. I'm not used to receiving gifts."

✞ Same song and dance. A̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶s̶ i̶t̶.

✞ "It's... a very nice bookmark."

✞ Careful. He forces his gaze back to their eyes, to their friendly, expectant expression. His hands absently smooth out the wrinkles on his white coat as he tries to find the words to say. But none of them are appropriate.

✞ T̶h̶e̶y̶ a̶r̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ s̶o̶ y̶o̶u̶n̶g̶. S̶o̶ o̶p̶e̶n̶. S̶o̶ n̶a̶ïv̶e̶.

✞ He shoves down the guilt that claws its way up his throat, hiding it beneath an impenetrable facade. When his eyes flash up to the MC's, the gold swirls in his irises as he forces a smile—steadfast, unwavering. The one he has had centuries to perfect.

✞ "Thank you," he finally manages to say, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.

Vere

✦ Vere, sitting across the table, observed the MC with a coy smile as they moved a broken-in-half pencil along the edge of the sheet of paper, brow furrowed in concentration, eyes focused intently on the task at hand, wavering only to glance up at Vere. Often. Very often.

✦ "What're you drawing there? Don't tell me you're sketching me."

A guilty smile overcomes their lips as they lift their eyes to meet his pink ones.

✦ Vere chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Oh, how predictable. You can't help it, can you? I've just got such a captivating presence. But I must say, I'm flattered to be your muse."

"…It was supposed to be a gift."

✦ Vere pretended to be wounded, feigning a look of hurt. "Oh, how dare you! You'd just give away art portraying my stunning and irresistible beauty so easily? I'm wounded."

"For you."

✦ Vere pauses for a moment, allowing the words to sink in before bursting into laughter. "For me? Well, in that case, I accept your gift with grace and humility. I suppose I could find room in my collection for one more sketch of myself. After all, they are my favorites, just like you."

✦ "Carry on with your sketching, my talented artist."

✦ Truth be told, it turned out mediocre at best.

✦ Vere looked at the sketch, his expression a tad puzzled amongst the amusement. He held the sketch up to his face, examining it closely with a raised eyebrow.

✦ "Well, well, well... You certainly have a keen eye for detail, I must say." He chuckled softly, glancing up at them with a sly smile.

✦ "If you don't want it, you could just say so—"

He quickly snatched the sketch from their hands. "Oh, no no no, I'm keeping this. Consider it a token of your affection towards me."

✦ Vere has an expensive taste; that's a known fact. But he was willing to overlook the lackluster quality of the sketch purely out of vanity. He didn't need to know that the sketch was hastily done and far from impressive. As long as Vere believed it was a masterpiece, that's all that mattered.

Mhin

🕊 They are definitely a foodie. Please gift them sweets, if possible.

🕊 Mhin takes the bag, eyeing it suspiciously. Then, they peek inside, revealing a handful of sweets.

🕊 "A gift?" Mhin echoes, looking up at the MC, their face betraying a hint of bewilderment. "What's the angle?”

🕊 Mhin hesitantly picks up one, studying it like a puzzle to be solved. Then, they warily take a bite. A moment later, a small flicker of surprise and pleasure washes over their face. 

🕊 T̶r̶u̶t̶h̶ b̶e̶ t̶o̶l̶d̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶ h̶a̶l̶f-̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ p̶o̶i̶s̶o̶n̶e̶d̶

🕊 Mhin crosses their arms defiantly, but their Mhin's voice softens a touch. Despite their hard, distrustful veneer, there is a hint of vulnerability in their eyes.

🕊 "You... really just wanted to give me this? No hidden motives, no expectations?"

🕊 "I..." Mhin falters. Then, something strange happens: a corner of their mouth twitches up, as if fighting away a smile. "I don't understand you. But... Thanks, I guess."

🕊 In the more-than-likely scenario that sweets are expensive expensive in Eridia, I offer you the alternative: Hand-made dagger cat charm.

🕊 They look at the charm in their hand, confusion dancing across their face. The words fail to come to them; instead, their face turns into a frown.

🕊 “What is that supposed to be?”

🕊 A huff of breath leaves their lips as they reluctantly take the charm. They are clearly unimpressed. "You made this? Why would I need a charm? I don’t need luck; I trust my skills and my instincts."

🕊 "If you don't want it—"

They snatch the charm from their hand, almost possessively. “I didn’t say I don’t want it. I just...never mind.”

🕊 They attach the charm to their dagger, secretly basking in the warmth that spreads through their chest.

🕊 "Thank you," they finally mutter, refusing to meet their eyes.

🕊 Now, when they grip the weapon, a sense of reassurance floods over them as their fingers brush over the charm, despite their attempts to hide it.

🕊 Though they may not need luck, having a reminder of someone who cared enough to make them a gift was a comfort in itself.