#if i do a part 2 there will be fluff

[ferritins]

IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD

SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.

WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.

NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.

After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.

What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.

You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.

However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.

It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.

Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.

Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.

The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.

Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.

Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.

You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.

You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.

It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.

"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.

You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.

Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."

You look up from Jason's side.

"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"

"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.

"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."

Roy's brows tighten further.

"Jason doesn't do opiates."

"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.

You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.

The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.

When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.

"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."

Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.

Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.

He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.

Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.

"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."

You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."

As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.

When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.

Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.

Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.

It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.

Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.

He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.

(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.

He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.

Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.

He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.

It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.

Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.

Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.

Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.

The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.

He presses his eyes shut tightly.

He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he wants–

"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.

He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.

"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."

(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.

"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")

[bokutoko]

yumie's ring

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

it was a quiet evening when kita proposed.

his granny just left from dropping off some fresh strawberries from her little garden, knowing it was one of your favorites… well, more like she walked with kita as he, ever the gentleman, carried the crate of fruit over.

you didn’t notice her whisper something to her grandson, who only shook his head in response, earning him a gentle smack on the arm and a knowing look from yumie. she then looked to you, giving you a sweet smile and a soft “wonderful to see ya, dear,” before walking back down the porch steps to her little home across the street.

together, you washed the berries, occasionally holding out one to feed to each other. you soon noticed kita’s lips with the slightest red tint, a perfect color to match his pink cheeks. with a shy smile, you’d leaned in for a kiss, and kita’s heart uncharacteristically skipped a beat from the saccharine taste of strawberries on your tongue.

now there you were, the two of you in each other’s arms in the kitchen as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. why you wanted to slow dance in the kitchen with no music, kita had absolutely no idea. but, he humored you because of course he would.

“ya sure are silly,” kita teased, slowly swaying you back and forth to the dull droning of the cicadas outside.

“it’s nice to be in your arms, shin. sue me.” a hand absentmindedly carded through his hair, twirling the tufts near his nape.

and kita wasn’t exactly sure what came over him in that moment. taking in his surroundings, he realized everything he would ever need was right in front of him, staring him in the face with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours.

there, in the dark kitchen, his gaze didn’t leave yours as he pulled out his granny’s ring that’d been burning a hole in his pocket for weeks now, whispering, “marry me.”

part one | part two

a/n: the recent influx of love on part one?? holy smokes y’all THANK YOU. this is kinda long but take a part two blurb as my token of appreciation <3

like my work? check out my masterlist!

navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[astralnymphh]

abby is a morningtime maniac— for those who oversleep! ascribe it to this: fumbling your sleep schedule because you fret over the daylight worries that somehow slipped past dawn and happened to cling to your brain and pester you to disquietude? or you've merely acquired a schedule viable for rot because of that all-consuming addiction to the little handheld screen in your trained palm? so now, half past the time abby has set your alarm to ring at— you're still snoozing? not on her watch. "hey— wake up, loads of stuff to do today, remember?" muggy of her breath and tinted with a slight grog in the pit of her throat, a thumb traces the dip below your lip, nudging your head left to right softly as spring's greenest day— but to no avail, "gosh, we seriously need to get your schedule in check." a scoff dusts her lips, then— she relents, "no choice it is then, got it." and by asudden weightlessness, two stouts of arms weasel beneath the curves of your backside and crane you into her chest, and the swift deprive of gravity feels as though an empty cosmos has grown below you, and like that— you're awake. "what the— abby?" you squint, double take your surroundings, squint some more, the face of your beloved muscle machine blurry. yet after a few blinks, you think you gauge a quarter-moon smile, and some chuckled tongue-in-cheek retort rushing to your ears, "didn't seem like you we're going to wake up anytime soon, what, stayed up all night on me again? hmph, you dork."

DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MASTERPOST

[yrluvjane]

for the dbf!James fic you could start writing something where he feels lonely for some years, after the separation with Lily and Harry studying in a high school abroad. He starts to attend your father's house more and more and then you decide how everything unfolds. I don't know, it's just an idea

James Potter had never pictured his life turning out quite like this. If someone had told him five years ago that he'd be a divorced man with his son studying halfway across the world, he'd have laughed it off. But here he was, staring at his reflection in the kitchen window, feeling the empty ache that came from a house that was far too quiet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t try to stay busy—he still had work, Quidditch matches with the old gang, and the occasional night out with Sirius. But the bustle that once filled his home was gone. Harry was off at some fancy training program abroad, thriving in a way that made James proud and yet left him feeling more alone than ever. And Lily… well, that chapter was over, though the echoes of it still lingered in every corner of his mind.

That’s why he found himself more frequently at your father’s house. It was a place where he could escape the emptiness without feeling like a burden. Your dad, an old friend of James’s from his old Auror days, welcomed him with open arms. It felt good to be around a familiar face, to chat about the past, to laugh over old memories. But more than that, it was you.

You were always there—kind, perceptive, and somehow always knowing when he needed a distraction or a kind word. You’d grown up since the last time James had really paid attention, blossoming into someone who wasn’t just his friend’s daughter but a woman in her own right. And it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“Hey, James,” you called, stepping into the living room one evening as he sat nursing a drink. “Dad’s running late again. You staying for dinner?”

He glanced up, and there it was—that familiar flutter in his chest. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he replied with a half-smile. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Trust me, you’re not.” You rolled your eyes playfully, making your way over to him. “Besides, it’s nice having someone else around who can actually hold a conversation about something other than work.”

He chuckled softly, grateful for your lightheartedness. “Your dad’s really getting that bad, huh?”

“Worse.” You leaned against the arm of the chair across from him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

James couldn’t help but laugh. You had a way of making things easier, lifting the weight from his shoulders, even if just for a moment. And maybe that’s why he kept coming back.

As the evening sprang, he found himself watching you more closely, noting the way you moved around the kitchen, the way you laughed at his terrible jokes, and the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. He’d always known you as a kid, his friend’s daughter, but now… now he wasn’t so sure what to think.

Dinner was the most comfortable his felt in weeks, maybe even months. You were an excellent cook, and he found himself wondering when you’d learned to whip up a meal so effortlessly. He helped you with the dishes afterward, the two of you standing side by side at the sink, hands occasionally brushing as you worked.

“Thanks for keeping my dad company,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “He’s been a bit lonely since Mum passed.”

James nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. “I get it. Loneliness is a bit of a monster, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, glancing up at him. “But it doesn’t have to be. Not always.”

There was something in the way you said it—something that made James pause, his heart thudding just a bit louder in his chest. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he saw the softness in your gaze, the warmth that went beyond simple kindness.

“Guess not,” he replied softly, his voice almost a whisper.

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot (First part- Drabble) {If you want things to make sense you probably should read it, the first part, 😁😁😁}

Pairing: Fem! Student! and Soulmate! Reader x Damian Wayne/Robin

AU: Soulmate! Reader

Content: Swearing, angst, teenage stupidity, aged up kiddos 16/17, technical talk about soulmates, lowkey frustrations, some much angst yall, some fluff, mythology, toxic parents, and soul crushing

Word Count: 7,233

(P.S: Okay so this is going to be continuing from the I Feel a Sin Coming On drabble, I've been getting a few comments on it asking for a part two and someone sent in a request for a Shy and Smart Student! Reader with Damian and let's just say the gears in my head started turning. Anyways this could go on if you guys want it to, but it could also end like this! It will break you. I hope you all enjoy! :D)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While, unfortunately, it's true the somewhat cruel existence of soul mates was around and kicking, love- true love was still there. Or at least it was believed to be there. It supposedly thrived even more for some reason. Some speculated that it was because there was a standing of everyone deserving love. Whether they were good or bad or in-between, they got someone who would love them for the rest of their life regardless of all the mistakes they made or continue to make. Others said it was because the universe deemed people good enough to have someone for the rest of their lives. Which seems a little close minded for a society in which everyone has a soulmate. But maybe that was because of the belief that if things didn’t work out with your soulmate- if you didn’t love them as you should or didn’t get the love you thought you deserved- it was because you weren’t good enough. Weren’t good enough to get the right kind of love. But in the end soulmates do exist. They exist and are for everyone. For each person you pass on the road, there is someone out there for them. Just as there's someone out there for you.

But the daunting notion that you have to be the right kind of good to get your perfect love chilled you to the bone. After all, if it wasn’t perfect what did that say about you? Because in the end weren’t they made for you? Maybe that’s why some still believed in true love, that it was real. Both because of and not because of soulmates. Rather because of the concept. Someone made just for you. Even if that person was flawed-if you are flawed, just as they were made for you, you were made for them. But sometimes, what is made for you can harm you a lot more than what’s not. 

It was why you believed that the reason true love might still exist was actually because some people fell for their soulmate before they realized they were fated to be. Before that dreaded bond-that agonizing pull kicked, of their own free will they fell in love. Because they didn't have to suffer through the pull of a bond they never wanted, these people were blissfully ignorant of what forced love was like. They did not know the horrors of those forced to stay with someone their heart loved but mind did not. And despite all your animosity towards soulmates, despite your fear and hatred, what made this all the worse-all the more ironic-was that you were technically one of those people. 

Before you even knew what a soulmate was to you-before you were old enough to recognize the pull, to feel, it’s dark and fervent demand for attention-you fell for him. For his laugh: in the way he tilted his chin back as if trying to suppress its joyous sound and his smile: in the way the corners of his would curve showing a slight dimple in his left cheek and revealing the softness his eyes could have. For his kindness: in the way he disregarded what others said and lived his life freely as himself despite the demand of society for him to be like the rest-to be normal. For his mortality: in the way he would never allow bullies to pick on others around him, even if he thought they needed to toughen up. But most importantly for the way he tried each and every single day to learn more and be better even if you’re the only one who noticed. For the way he seemed to be all what you dreamed, something that should have caused you suspicion but instead drew you in. 

That is until your 13th birthday and, much like many before you, you felt the tug of that dreaded bond.

You were six when you decided to loathe soulmates. Six when you swore on your very soul- your existence that you would never love your soulmate. You swore to live in misery of your own making rather than fates. No matter who they were, you would hate them.

But fate... well fate hated to be tested. So, fate did the worst thing it could. It made you fall for the one person you swore never to.

Your soulmate.

Your very own soulmate who seemed like the only light in the dark and suddenly you began questioning whether or not these feelings- these emotions you had thought were your own and genuine- were actually yours. Or if they were just fate pulling its strings and making you dance and dance and dance.

To say you were upset was an understatement and... well let's just say fate might be prideful, but you were twice as petty.

At age thirteen you shoved the emotions you had so dearly cherished so deep in your chest they seemed like nothing more than echoes of naive mind. You distanced yourself from him and only let yourself feel in your loneliest of moments.

Four years, it had nearly been four years since you had begun your battle against fate. And- and and fate was getting stronger... as you have been told. The older you get- the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the bond is.

Those moments... those lonely moments happened more often, and those stupid annoying emotions rose up with the beating of your traitorous heart.

Which is exactly how you ended up in the last place you ever wanted to be. Face to face with your soulmate... with them recognizing you and what you were to them.

"I'm your soulmate." Damian Fucking Wayne said his eyes locked on you as you felt your heart jump to your throat and all the color drain from your face.

"Fucking shit, " You whispered, unable to break his gaze.

Shaking-hand shaking and heart pounding at your rib cage demanding you acknowledge him-that you give in and tell him he’s right. That you are soulmates and let fate drive you. But there was something fate and your treasonous heart seemed to forget. You were one petty bitch. 

Weakly smiling you let out a nervous laugh and turned, avoiding eye contact. Eyes darting around they finally settled on your bare wrist as your other hand scrambled to gather your things against your trembling chest.  

"Oh- my,” Your voice cracked as you shoved your things into your bag, “would you look at the time! I need to get going." 

Fingers racing over the items in your bag you went to zip it close and make your escape when your eyes rested on your final item. The book you were reading earlier. Which just so happened (damn you fate) to be right in front of Damian. Eyes raising to him, gazes latching for just a moment you did the one thing you should not. You looked down, down and back at your book before making the stupidly impulsive decision to lunge for it. Your fingers brushed the cover, nails barely scraping lines into it when a hand-warm and firm clasped around your wrist. Pulling you back towards the table in a quick tug that caused your stomach to slam against the tables side. Wincing you stabbed your nails into your palm, not daring to look up. You had fallen for his trap, the oh so obvious trap you could have avoided had you just not looked at him. 

"I'm your soulmate," He said again, his voice clear and stanch as he gently pulled on your arm, clearly trying to get you to meet his eyes, "and you are mine."

Soulmate- God why did you have to care about him. Why- why-did it have to be him? Why-

why couldn’t fate just leave you alone?

Something about the tone of his voice made your heart shatter. It was almost desperate, but you couldn’t-you couldn’t allow yourself to be weak. After all, you would not let fate win. Petty- you were so violently petty and prideful- oh even fate knew this yet- it still tried... this- you wouldn't let this stand. You could-no would not allow fate to get away with even attempting this. Taking a breath in-a deep breath- you raised your chin. Steadying your mind with the thoughts of your parents, of how you needed to be around them. Calm, poised, emotionless. Ignoring the well of tears in your throat and the pressure behind your eyes you finally met his gaze. 

Green. All you could see was those beautiful green eyes, wide and desperate. Yearning-yearning for you to give a reply. But the one you were about to give would only hurt those eyes, regardless, it needed to be done. One pain- one moment or time of pain and sorrow was far better than a life of them. 

Slowly letting out the breaths you previously let in you tilted your head, feeling his grip on your wrist lightening. 

“I do not have a soulmate," You began instantly seeing the surprise on his face-the confusion, so you continued, “I won’t have one. Not you. Not anyone. You see, I don't believe in soulmates. So, I do believe you are mistaken.” 

His grip dropped but seeing the broken look on his face made your facade crumble in an instant as your heart screamed to stop. To comfort him. To take back your words and press yourself into his arms. But you were smarter than that, even if you weren’t strong enough to hide the tears anymore. Throat bobbing, you felt your mouth tremble as your eyes stung and something warm began spilling down your cheeks. 

Pulling yourself away from him, you smiled a bitter smile, not even daring to acknowledge the tears you were shedding. Head high, you turned. 

Voice cracking, you bid farewell, “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get going.”

Feet scrambling you nearly dashed out the door, leaving the book that got you into this mess behind. After all, it was now only going to hold harish and painful memories. 

As soon as your feet touched the gravel, you ran. Tears freely spilled down your cheeks and you sobbed and panted. Mind trying it’s best to soothe the heart that had just torn itself into pieces. But there was nothing it could do. There was nothing you could do but cry and run. Run away from him. From all the pain you had and were going to feel. It was hell, yes. But at least it was yours. At least you knew how and why it had happened, at least you knew what was to come. At least you were still you right?

By the time you had finally calmed your tears-though your heart was still howling, you had made it home. Wiping your tears you took a deep breath in and held it, hoping it would steady your mind and breathing enough to face what was about to come. You hesitated for a moment, then let the breath out wiped your face again and walked up to the door. It was then you heard the shouting. The rage filled voices cursing at each other, dishes and shoes flying, shattering and knocking things about. 

Hand trembling you pushed down the doorknob and walked in. The barrage of insults and dissonance of things being thrown slammed into you. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you saw the shadows in the kitchen, too caught up in their most recent argument to even acknowledge your existence-that is until they came into view. 

“God you never listen!” Your father roared

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing all day!” Your mother countered

Quivering you slowly moved towards the staircase as their fight pushed into the living room. Your father’s hands waved as your mother rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed. 

“Really that’s how you’re gonna be?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Fine then, I’ll just take this lazy ass of mine and leave!”

“GOOD!”

With that your father turned and stormed past you straight out the door, slamming it behind him. You flinched and turned to see your mother staring at you. 

“Ugh! I can’t believe him,” She hissed before she shook her head, scowling, “absentee father, sitting on his ass all day while I make the money and take care of the needless kid. God, pregnant at 18- now married to that loser! My life went down the drain. If only it weren't for you...”

Those words stabbed at your heart, sinking in their little daggers in the spots they knew best. You knew she didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you always did.  It wasn’t the first time you had heard things like this, but it did seem to hurt all the more due to what happened earlier this afternoon. Sniffing slightly, you lowered your head and your voice cracking as you had to fight off more tears whimpered,

“I’m sorry mom.”

As if a flip switched your mom’s brown furrowed and scowl dropped. She looked you over, concern in her eyes and she took a step forward. 

“Are you okay honey? You don’t sound too good.”

Raising your head you tightly smiled and nodded, “Of course, just stressed cuz of school. I’ve got some exams coming up and it’s causing my emotions to be all over the place.”

She nodded eyes raving over you, resentment heavy in them as she plopped onto the couch with sigh, “Okay, you better be doing good in school alright? Don't want you to end up like that louse of man your father is.”

You nodded again, “Of course! Actually I was about to go and study.”

“Good, you do that.” She replied as she picked up the remote and flipped on the T.V.

You paused, for just a moment watching her as the resentment began to slide from her eyes, her face softening. She was so pretty, yet harsh lines from constant scowls and frowns bore their way onto her cheeks. Line surrounded her eyes from the tears and sleepless nights. And it was all because of you. Turning, your hands tight on your bag, you raced up the stairs, dashing towards your room where you collapsed onto the ground the second the door was closed. Hand against your face you pressed your head against the door and bit your lip. You did not have the luxury of more tears.  

Turning you found yourself looking at your own reflection. The combination of your mother and father. The perfect combination. It made you wonder what they saw when they looked at you. Did they see a reflection of themselves? Or just an echo of the person they loathed to love. You knew for a fact they never saw you, just you. It was always tied with one or the other. You could tell because today your mother avoided your eyes, that was because you had your father’s eyes. So today, she must have seen him in you. At least until your hair covered your face-her hair- and she saw herself. Maybe that’s why she softened; you didn’t truly know. They loved you, yes. But only because they saw themselves in you. Because on the good days, they saw each other. Because in a way you were them. What hurt the most though, was not when they saw each other or themselves in you. But the fact that they would never see you. And if your parents, the people who were supposed to love you the most, the people who brought you into this world could never see you, who could? 

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

It had nearly been a week since you last saw and denied being soulmates with Damian Wayne. In said period you spent your free time dodging Damian and all his friends as well as digging your nose into every soulmate lore, history or origin you could find. While you didn’t want a soulmate, that didn’t mean Da- you soulmate should suffer because of it. So, you had made it your mission to discover if there was any way you could break the bond now. Research had told you that if one party ignored the bond for long enough it would fade for the other. But you didn’t know how long that would take and merely telling Damian you weren’t soulmates tore you up so badly that the mere sight of him sends you into tears. Therefore, you needed to find a way to break the bond. Both for yourself and for Damian. 

But as far as you could tell it was impossible. Every single myth, origin and lore of soulmates explained them as the other half of each other, inseparable even incomplete without the other. Part of you hated that thought. That you were incomplete without your soulmate. Because weren’t you a person, able to function live, laugh and love all on your own? Without a soulmate? Only Greek mythology even considers you as whole without your soulmate. Though it does say that they are meant to be together and once they meet they will not want to part. Which did not read well for your plans. In Chinese mythology there was the Red String or Red Thread of Fate 

A tangible string, perhaps it was something that could be broken. But from what you read it could not, at least you could not cut it or tear it with your hands. It cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It can-

Taking a deep breath in, you rubbed your brow. It didn’t really make sense to you that the string or thread or whatever it was couldn’t be broken. It also didn’t make sense that a soulmate was to be bound to you for life. Logically speaking there had to be a loophole. Afterall no one feels their bond until they are thirteen. If you were truly bound for life, you would always feel it. Therefore, there must be a workaround. A way to break the bond or someone- or someone to break it- to remove it. 

Since it is not there from the beginning it cannot be like in the Greek, Jewish or Hindu myths. But it might be connected to that string of fate theory. And there was one person who you could think of that might be able to remove or break the bond. The very person who put it there. And if the Chinese myth is right it’s Yuè Xià Lăorén or Yuè Lăo. But as far as you could tell no one was meeting old men at night right before their thirteenth birthday. 

It felt like a lost cause. You doubted anyone actually ever seriously tried to break their soulmate bond. No one ever seemed to have your determination or rather stubbornness. Most people would have surely given up by now, but you desperately needed a way. Because despite how much you hated it, how much it made you hate yourself. You couldn’t help but love him. And it terrified you. 

Your parents started out in love and now they were-... it’d be difficult to say what they had was anything other than torture. Day in day out fighting. Yelling and screaming. Shouting. Such anger at someone they were supposed to love. It made you wonder, were they really in love? Were they really supposed to be each other's happy ever after? Each other's eternity? If so, what did that mean for you? Did that mean you were doomed to be stuck in the same cycle of love turning to hate? Did that mean that you were going to lose a love you always told you had? Did that mean that you were going to die unloved? It was a fear- your biggest if you were being honest. That the person who was supposed to love you forever, doesn’t really love you. And you could take the chance. Not with what you knew- what you’d seen. There was no way in hell you were ever going to let that happen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was truly unfortunate that you just so happened to have a mother deeply involved in her job. One that resulted in her dragging you to a gala because she needed to show she had the perfect little family. What a joke. A cosmic joke as said gala was happening at none other than Wayne manor. And its host? You guessed it,  Bruce Wayne himself with his gaggle of children all in attendance. How did you know this? Well, your eye caught one of the many children. The one you were trying your hardest to avoid. 

Damian Mother Fucking Waye.

And it seems you caught his eye as well, because the second he looked in your direction his face lit up. That is until you turned away from him, the next you saw the color drained from his face and he practically stormed out of the room. Though any random bystander would have thought he calmly exited, you knew better. Which was valid considering you had basically spit in his face and said he wasn’t good enough. But it still hurts. Nowadays it seems that everything hurts. Though it was all probably due to the bond you were so determined to reject. 

So, to dull the pain you clung to the walls of the ballroom. Heavily nursing the glass of champagne you snagged from an unassuming waiter. It had been probably close to two hours since you arrived and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through it, however you most definitely did not want your parents to see. You were underaged and they wanted to keep their ‘perfect’ image intact. Which is partially the reason why when the people began to make their rounds around the ballroom, you decided to slip out. Though you abandon your drink, you thought wandering around the manor’s halls might help you relax even if it was only a little bit. 

Wandering down the darkened corridors you listened to the faint music that trailed after you as you got further and further away from the ballroom. Night encompassing each hallway you turned down it wasn’t long till the sounds of the strings playing was nothing more than a faint humming like the buzz of a fly. Darkness and silence swallowed the area-well near silence. The creaking and settling of the manor seemed to be the only sound. That is until you hear a clattering and an all too familiar voice cursing in another language. 

Maybe, it was due to the slight buzz those sips of champagne gave you-maybe it was the exhaustion from the days of fighting off your feelings-or maybe it was because the pull was just too strong; you walked towards the sound and pushed a door open to find a disheveled Damian Wayne sitting in on a couch, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands, a crystal glass at his feet with half melted ice cubes surrounding it. 

He did not seem to notice your presence, so you slowly began to venture closer. Noticing his messy hair, unbuttoned shirt and missing tie. Why did he have to look so damn beautiful? Better hearing his mutterings which were half in English, you pause to listen. 

“Seems like Todd was correct,” He mumbled as a hiccup stalled his sentence, “this does improve everything… or perhaps not.” 

His body shifted as he hiccuped again, and had you not seen it yourself you would not have believed that the high pitched sound came from him. It almost made you laugh, but you were able to restrain yourself and move closer. This time, it seems Damian heard you as his head snapped in your direction. He blinked a few times almost as if he was trying to get water from his eyes. Head tilting he narrowed his gaze, voice slurring as he asked, “Y/N?”

Sighing you nodded and walked even closer until you stood in front of him. Smiling slightly you waved and took a deep breath in before replying, “Hi Damian.”

He blinked more, brow furrowing as he muttered something you could not catch. Sinking deeper into the couch he gave you a blank look. 

“So have you come to inform me of our ‘non-existent bond’? Because I assure you if you do not wish to discuss it with me I will leave it alone.”

You raised an eyebrow and crouched so you could be eye level with him. Meeting his eyes you found yourself once again admiring their beauty.

“Really? Then thank you. I appreciate that.” You paused concern stirring so strongly in your chest you couldn’t help but let the worry take hold, “ But I’m not here for that.” 

Damian sat up glaring at you and you did not move, swallowing as he got a bit closer. 

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m worried about you.”

As if it was instinctual, he replied, “And who's fault is that.”

Though he winced afterwards despite you merely sighing at his comment. Resting your chin on your knees you gave him a sad smile and nodded. 

“You’re right… I owe you an explanation.”

Heart in your throat you met his eyes again and asked, “Would you let me give you one?”

Silence thrummed between the two of you for a lot longer than you would have liked. His gaze not leaving your face as you took a deep breath in and let it out. You should have done this from the start and at the very least if things go awry he probably won't remember any of this. 

His hand gesturing to the place next to him he said, “Sit.”

You snorted and rose to your feet. Then the seat next to him shifted a bit awkwardly before you turned to him. He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle. It stung far more than you would ever admit seeing him like this. But- but it would fade. It will fade. He won’t be like this forever. He won’t. 

“So… I should probably tell you why I don’t believe in soulmates.”

He grunted in reply, and you weakly laughed, “I-hmm… this is rather hard to explain. You see my parents are soulmates and they-”

You stopped yourself, watching as he stared across the room. Realizing that telling him about this was letting him in. And you could not let him in. Biting your lip you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you once again fought off tears. 

“I really don’t like their relationship. I hate it. And and to me it seems everyone with a soulmate is miserable. They aren’t happy. Shouting, arguing, fighting. I will not risk the chance of being like my parents. I refuse.”

He was looking at you now. Brow furrowed and the bottle slipped between his fingers. Your voice cracked and you winced, swallowing as you shrugged. 

“I- i am a coward. I refuse to take any chances because I don’t want to get hurt.”

The unspoken ever again hung on your lips as your parents' rage flashed through your mind. Fingers picking at one another you looked down. Unable to keep eye contact without crying. 

“I’m scared and- and worried and and I- I’m so sorry. You deserve better and i-”

His hand was over your mouth and you blinked in confusion looking up to see him pinching his nose, bottle still in hand. 

“Please silence your excuses.” Damian snapped, “I will not hear anyone talk about you that way.”

Something jolted in you and you froze, tears springing to your eyes, you nodded and he removed his hand. Fingers darting to wipe away tears you began to turn from him. His hand batted your fingers away and cupped one of your cheeks. The other still clutching the whiskey bottle half cupped the other. Damian pressed his forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes. 

“I care not that you are a coward. I care not that you are running away. I understand your unease, I understand your logic. But I disagree. I can do no better than you, my soulmate. My other half. I will be here for you and will ease your fears, I will drive your worries away and treat your scars. Emotional or otherwise. I am here for you. I do not know what I have to do for you to understand I am yours. Whole and solely yours. As you are mine. Please- I beg you. Tell me what I must do for you to allow me to love you to my fullest capacity.” 

Unable to look away, your heart taking control as that bitter bond turned soft and sweet you began to cry. Tears spilling down your face, you pressed your forehead more against his, words slipping from you before you could even think. 

“Be forever mine and let me be forever yours,” You whispered. 

Something softened in his eyes, a warmth in them you desperately wanted to see but hoped you never did. He began to lean in a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands shifted, the bottle falling from his grasps as he muttered,

“Was that ever in doubt?”

You tilted your head and his lips pressed against yours. He tasted of bitterness, a darkness that burned so sharply it had you clinging to him. Hands bunched in the cloth of his shirt you found yourself leaning in. His arm wrapped around your waist and as he pulled you in tighter, body shifting as he couldn’t get you close enough. As if there wasn’t a way to hold you where he was near enough. It was as if he wanted to shift-sinking-melting completely and totally into you. 

Air, you had no air left, but who needed air? He was here. His touch gentle and constant, reassuring as he pressed against you, gripping you as if he was terrified the second he let you go, you would disappear. And he was right. 

You broke apart both gasping for air and his grip loosened. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiled, a smile that sent your already raging heart racing. His hand rested against your cheek, fingers playing with your hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he muttered,

“I love you.” 

Your heart skittered and-

Tug, there was a tug a mother fucking tug that made your whole-body ache. One that stole the air you had just barely regained. One that sent shivers up your spine and knocked some sense into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. Standing up suddenly, your head spun. Blinking a few times as tears sprang into your eyes you shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” 

And with that, you bolted from the room. Faintly hearing Damian calling after you, you rush down the hall brushing past a butler whose name you think is Alfred. He gives you a soft smile and you nod, quickly wiping away the tears. He paused but you kept moving. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of here now. No matter what it took. 

Feet nearly tripping over the other you stumbled back into the ballroom. There would be hell to pay later, you knew it. But if you stayed any longer you could get hurt beyond repair. Allowing the feeling of everything that had just occurred loose, you promptly burst into tears as you stumbled towards your stunned parents. Your mother frantically moved to you as your father’s eyes widened and he began speaking to the people before them. 

“Y/N, Y/N honey we’re in front of a lot of people. Can this wait?” Your mother whispered as she got closer.

Sniffling you collapsed into your mother’s arms, feeling her embrace again for the first time in nearly a decade. Trembling as sobs escaped you, you were able to get out. 

“I want to go home. Please. Please. Let me go home.” 

At first, she didn’t reply, then she began moving you towards the door. 

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

She did not even turn in your father’s direction. After all, they had done what they always do, taken separate cars. Unable to quell the tears, you let your mother guide you out the door before he came to pull you back into fate’s vicious plot.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Two days, you hadn’t left your room in two days. Not that your parents had noticed, not that anyone really did. You doubted anyone noticed your absences from class. You hoped no one would notice truthfully. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face again. It was driving you crazy. So you locked yourself in your room and hoped-prayed-that these growing feelings would just die. Or maybe you could just die. That sounded like a solid solution as well. It was part of the reason why despite the late hour, despite living in Gotham you had unlocked and opened your window. 

There was a sound that awoke you, yanking you from the nightmares that never seemed to cease. And as you opened your eyes to the familiar shapes and silhouettes in your room you found one that did not belong there. 

"Who are you?" You whispered to the woman hiding in the shadows, not really caring if acknowledging her would lead her to strike. 

After all, who would lurk in the shadows of someone's room while they were sleeping unless you planned to kill them. It was a relief of sorts, that you were more than likely going to die soon. It would help you feel less guilt about Damian, about the situation that occurred a few nights before and the feelings that refused to listen to reason. 

Stepping into the moonlight the woman towered before you. Half her face tilted towards the light and you blinked twice almost recognizing it- but- but that couldn't be possible. There was no way you knew this woman. You hardly knew anyone, let alone an murder or assassin who would sneak into sleeping peoples rooms. 

"You don't have to worry about that.” She replied in a soft voice, her accent reminding you of something-something…something! 

You just couldn’t quite place your finger on what though. It nagged and nipped at your mind, tugging and swirling in faint recognition you could not connect. 

The woman took a step forward, her black hair swaying as she crossed her arms, her tone sharp and barbed, “I think who you are is a more important question.”

Her gaze did not leave you and you adjusted your blanket before glancing towards the open window almost blankly saying, 

"Nobody special I can assure you."

This caused the woman’s posture to relax a little. She hummed slightly as you crossed your legs and set your elbows on your knees. 

"Hmm, really?"

Nodding you rested your face in your hands as you looked at her shadowy figure. She seemed kind, in a way. She was at least talking to you before killing you. That was something was it not? 

"Just the byproduct of fate's meddling and destructive hands."

"Ah, your parents are soulmates?' Her stance relaxed even more and you noted how from what you could see her outfit was nothing like the things the Gotham vigilantes wore. 

"Unwilling but yes, soulmates." 

It was more of a snort than a reply, but it didn’t seem to phase the woman as she rested herself on your desk the moon light allowing you to see the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose. Familiar features that made your gut churn. 

"Oh, oh. I see. They did not choose-"

"To have me?” You interrupted with a sigh, shrugging you nodded, “I guess you could say that."

Silence followed and you saw the woman’s eyes narrow. She crossed her arms again, stance tightening. 

"... you do not seem the type to share your innermost troubles with a stranger, why are you talking to me?"

Pulling your face from your hands you gave her a shrug as a yawn slipped from your lips, "Well, for one I think you're here to kill me and two... I've needed to tell someone for a while. Why not a perfect stranger?"

"Your parent's fate troubles you that much?" Her voice seemed to begin carrying concern, which only troubled you because it made you think there would be a possibility she wouldn’t kill you. 

"They are living proof- hell I am living proof that soulmates shouldn't be forced together…” You paused crossing your arms with a scowl, “and because fate is cruel, I have a soulmate too. Despite how awful they are."

"Your soulmate is awful?"

Something in her tone said she did not believe what she was asking in the slightest. Which was true, yet it still caused that buzzing familiarity to ring just a bit louder. 

"n-no, he's not.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed deeply, running your hands along your face, “ He's kind and- and all I could ask for but- but... how do I know he's all I want? How do I know any of this- any of my feelings are mine? How do I know that it isn't fate pulling my strings and wanting me to dance? How do I know he won’t leave? That the bond will only become apparent when we fight and won’t exist otherwise? When the love is gone and only the bond remains? How will I know that I won’t be abandoned again? That I won't be hurt again? That I will gain a love that will last? I won’t.  Not to mention even if I didn't like him... I would have to be with him."

"No,” The woman scoffed, “you wouldn't, dear."

"Yes, I would. My parents- they tried and now- now I live in the shambles of a home. They are together because of that damned bond even though they hate each other." You were crying now, of course you were, "fate does not like to be ignored and I don't like to be told what to do."

Angrily grabbing a tissue you blew your nose, faintly hearing the woman laugh. From what you could see, she had a look in her eyes that seemed soft- understanding. One you most certainly did not expect your killer to have. 

"Oh my, really?" She mumbled head turned towards the window. 

"Yes! I'd rather live in a hell I have control of, a hell I made rather than one fate forced upon me. If- if I ignore it enough... I heard it will fade for him, I- I will still feel it but- but because he tried, he will be spared. He'll have a chance- one I never had. And though- though I can't truly tell if these feelings are mine, it's all I want. I love him. I love him”

You stopped yourself trembling as you said it yet again, “I love him.”

Nodding you continued on, “and… I want him to be happy without me. Because- because I won't give way to fate, not even for him."

"Hmmm. I have a question for you.” 

“Yes?” You pulled the tissue box closer to you sure more tears would come. 

“Do you really want to die?”

“Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, waving a hand, “It’s just, it hardly seems to me that you want to die. Rather it seems like you want to live.”

"What- I, I’m sorry I-." You were at a loss for words. 

She was smiling as she replied with a shrug, “You have told me of a cause you wish to live for, no? To fight against the soulmate bond. While I personally disagree with your choice, I hardly think dying will do anything other than let the bond win.”

“Wha-... I-,” You sputtered, mainly because what she said made sense. 

It made an insane amount of sense. So much so that it had your head spinning. Why exactly did you think dying was the best option? You may not have the best life, but it was yours right? 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” The whisper escaped not entirely directed at the woman but rather just as a declaration in general. 

The tears on your face felt silly and you blew your nose again as the woman sighed. Causing silence to spin about the room until she remarked,

"I believe I should be the one apologizing."

You laughed, wiping the tears from your face, "Why?"

"Because I'm not here to kill you."

Something in you skipped a beat and you shook your head. Of course she isn’t. Who would want you dead after all. You hadn’t done anything that would cause a reason to be killed.

"Oh darn." You snorted, rubbing the back of your hand across your face, "Here I am looking like a fool asking for something I don’t even want from someone who can’t even give it to me. Fate is cruel… Though life does seem crueler."

"Yes," She muttered looking over her shoulder at the window, "indeed it is."

A figure loomed where she looked, a familiar figure in green, yellow and red. The woman smiled at you again and she moved towards him patting him on the shoulder before climbing out the window. 

“It was nice to meet you Y/N.” 

Blinking in confusion you latched onto the vigilante who was now looming in between your room and the outside, "Robin? What are you doing here?"

He sighed, the woman disappearing as he rested on the window frame, "I am afraid it is quite difficult for me to explain at the moment."

"Wha-.... wait-wait."

In the silence of the night, with the slight breeze trailing in from the window where Robin was perched, you felt a tug. A heart wrenching tug you had felt just the other night. A tug that sent aches all over and made your throat tighten.

"...you're-oh."

Biting, you lip you fought off tears as he slowly entered your room. Breathing deeply, you began picking at your fingers before you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

He was right in front of you as tears spilled down your cheeks and through sharp stabs of pain you tightly smiled remarking,

"...hi Damian."

He was silent and you bit down harder, weakly you took in a breath. His voice was soft in reply,

"Y/N... are you- are you alright?"

You didn't know what to say. After all, he must have heard something... then again, he might not have but-

"How-" Your voice cracked as you avoided looking at him despite him being so close, but it was hard as you could feel the heat from his body, "how much... How much did you hear?"

His was quiet and you squeezed your eyes shut, heart dropping as you tasted blood. Pain dancing across your lips and air fighting to leave you. A tiny sob escaped you and you took a ragged breath in as you opened your eyes facing him. Rob-no Damian raised a hand and brushed it against your face before he leaned in. His lips almost pressed against your ear he said,

"I heard everything."

Tag List: @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @legendarylearner18

[booquip]

Hiii uhmm im still super new to tumblr so sorry if the format is wonky. This is kind of my first dabble into fan fiction but I had this idea for quite a while so enjoy!! ( feed back & constructive criticism is always appreciated 😋)

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader x Geto Suguru

Summary: (Set in Highschool) Although looking back on it they realize both had fallen for you the moment they had met you. ( ik this seems pretty Suguru centric right now but trust me we get our moment with Satoru during the hangout)

Word Count: 710

The boys had fallen for you ever since you walked… well ran into the classroom doors.

The fast paced stomping of your feet could be heard from a mile away as you slammed the door open and ever so rudely interrupted Yaga Sensei’s class. “Excuse me, young la-!” You huffed each word you spoke trying and failing to catch your breath. “ Ahh… my.. a-apologies Yaga Sensei.. Ah sir! You see I was …initially going to arrive early but saw a stray cat and I … just had to feed it. Again apologies sir! ”You bow while still huffing. Yaga sensei sighs before speaking “The least you could do is introduce yourself before so rudely barging in.” You smile before going on your breath finally stabilizing “Oh my apologies sir! My name is L/N Y/N pleasure to meet you all!” As you look back at the three pairs of eyes before you, it’s only then you feel utterly embarrassed blood streaming right up to your face as you notice a boy with sparkling blue eyes and hair that rivaled the color of the clouds (not the ones you’d see on a thunder storm but those that appear biggest and brightest on a beautiful sunny day), along with a beautiful brunette woman.

Both were laughing making no attempts at all to mask their amusement at the spectacle bestowed upon them. While the raven haired boy tried to spare you some dignity by hiding his horrible kept chuckles in his hand ( it had no effect but you appreciated the effort nonetheless).

You sit in the farthest seat possible trying to make yourself unnoticeable for the duration of the class, you look outside the widow and get lost in the breathtaking view of the trees blowing in the beautiful summer wind. The months had just begun to get warmer and the world was looking so bright.

As you were so engrossed in the view Suguru however couldn’t help but spare glances at you all throughout the duration of class. He noticed your lack of attention to the lesson but also the way the sun had hugged your face, highlighting you in such a sensational way, you had looked so peaceful as if the world was crafted with you and you alone in mind. Suguru felt like you were drawing him in, he just had to talk to you, get to know you. So when the bell rang he all but sprinted to your desk, leaving Satoru a bit dazed. He felt bad for interrupting your thoughts but class did end so maybe he was doing you a favor, he tried to reason with himself.

Captivated by the view you didn’t hear the ring of the bell and were nudged by someone. Turning to look you noticed it was the raven haired man, he was much more handsome up close it’s difficult to describe as you think not even the highest quality camera could begin to compose the essence of his beauty. You notice his lips move to speak but your to engrossed in his presence to really notice that he had said something. It’s not until he nudges you again that you finally come back to earth. “ oh my apologies is there something you needed…” It’s only then when you realize you hadn’t captured his- He cuts your thought off.

“ Suguru. Suguru Geto.”

The name suits him you think as beautiful and elegant as the setting sun, ending the day and welcoming the next. He continues his sentence with a hearty chuckle “ I just wanted to inform you class ended about 10 minutes ago, what is it that you are so intensely thinking about?” He hadn’t realized what he blurted out before he quickly tried to save himself. Heat rose to your cheeks once again. How did you not notice? You don’t have time to internally beat yourself up for your lack of awareness before he goes on. “ If you’re not doing anything would you like to come have lunch with us? It’s not everyday we get a transfer student especially so late.”

Who would have thought that a simple invitation such as this one would lead to such a strong and beautiful bond amongst you four…

[updownlately]

3 - when she could have anyone else?

series masterlist

~~~

Getting a call midst your mid-day nap was not on your list of ideal ways to spend a Sunday. 

Calming down the part of you that suggested taking the small buzzing device and chucking it out the window, you groggily reached for the offending item, not bothering to look at the caller ID before picking up.

Mind realizing it could be important, you managed to huff out a somewhat polite ‘hello’, doing your best to stay conscious regardless of the comfort of the soft sheets and warm sunlight surrounding you. 

“Can you please explain how Less has no idea how she likes her coffee?” 

The blaring voice of Ella rang through your speaker, you wincing at the loudness and pulling the phone away from your ear. 

Audibly groaning, you wanted to cry. 

Of course, of all the things you could be woken up for on a cherished day off, it’d have to be this.

Wanting to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible, you brought the phone back to your face, eyes closing as your head snuggled into your pillow.

“Is this really why you called?” 

Apparently your response was not the one Ella was looking for, the blonde’s voice getting louder.

“HOW? How does Less not know her own coffee order? Explain, because this is absurd!”

“Ella…” This was not a conversation you would’ve liked to get into, wanting more than anything to go back to bed, to your dreamland, where there was no phones, no talks of coffee, and no Ella Toone.

“Listen Tooney, I have no idea. I think that question would be best answered by Alessia herself y’know? The person you’re currently hanging out with, as we speak, as of right now? The one you took from me on our one day off?” 

Your frustration seeping through slightly, you willed yourself to calm down. Taking a breath in, you focussed on listening to the other girl’s response.

“She won’t tell me! She says it’s a secret between you and her and I can only know if you tell me!” 

Shaking your head into your pillow, you muffled a soft scream before pulling away.

“Tooney, I want you to think back to all the times we’ve all gone out for coffee together...”

Giving her a second to recall the memories, you continued. 

“Now, from all those times, how many times has Alessia ordered for herself?”

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, it all finally sinking in for the midfielder.

“…you always order for her!” The revelation caused Ella’s voice to get louder and louder till she was practically yelling once again.

Sighing, you took a breath to calm yourself down. 

“Yes. Good job. Great observation. Now, hopefully that answers your question because regardless, I’m going back to sleep. Goodnight Ella.” You didn’t bother waiting for a response, instead hanging up abruptly.

Gently chucking your phone to the other side of the bed, you pulled on your covers, getting comfortable once again.

Eyes closing, you left whatever little sleepiness you had consume you, sinking into the soft sheets.

Finally.

Or so you thought. 

It was just as sleep was coming to you again, your eyes closing heavily, that the phone rang once more. 

Cursing, you swatted your hand across the bed, eyes still closed. Finding it, you promptly turned off the ringer, the resounding noise disappearing.

Exhaling contentedly, you got comfortable once more, duvet tucked underneath your chin, Alessia's old hoodie the perfect cross between thick and thin for the slight chill in the air.

You were just about to fall asleep again, finding sleep coming to you in the tiniest hints, only to find yourself rudely interrupted by the default ringtone for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Audibly cursing, you grabbed your phone aggressively this time, swiping blindly at your screen until you could hear voices on the other end.

“Ella this better be good or I swear to God I’ll somehow accidentally end up tackling you with my studs up!” 

“Now that’s not very nice of you, is it love?” That wasn’t Ella’s shrill voice…

“…Less?” You winced, your voice coming out a little quieter now. You did not want her to think you threatened Ella every time she called you, even though your girlfriend was probably well aware at how trying it could be to sometimes talk to the brunette.

“Hi baby.” You could hear the smile in her voice and you let out an audible sigh of relief.

You could hear Alessia chuckle. “You’re that excited that it isn’t Ella?” 

“You don’t understand…I was in the middle of the world’s best nap, and out of nowhere she’s grilling me on your coffee choices! Me! When you’re there next to her!” You whined, making your voice heard.

“In her defence, I told her to call you…”

“Less, whyyyyyy…”

Hearing her melodic laugh at your complaining, you smiled. 

“Anyways, I called you because I do need to order and I have no idea what to get.”

Rolling your eyes because of course, you grinned, running through your usual list of questions as you always did, before suggesting a drink to the blonde.

‘Hot/cold, sweet/a bit salty, spicy/sugary’  the basic low-down really.

Once. you had come up with a good drink for the blonde, you recited it to her, having her say it back to you once to confirm she had it correct. 

You still couldn’t believe Alessia didn’t know what she liked and you told her as much, your shock carrying over the phone. 

“It’s more fun when you do it for me,” the cheeky response the only explanation that you got. “Plus, it’s too hard to remember so many options when I could just ask my personal coffee connoisseur.” 

Shaking your head in amusement, you hummed in response, glad that this was becoming a little tradition of yours. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you sleep now. Have a good a nap, yeah?”

“Will do, just please ask Tooney to not call me,” you begged. 

“I can do that…thank you and sorry for waking you! I’ll see you when I get home! I love you!”

Returning the sentiment, you gently put your phone on your nightstand, not even mad that sleep was evading you for the next couple minutes. 

Smiling as you wandered off to dreamland again, you knew you were too far gone for the blonde, unable to fathom the thought of somebody else as your partner, indecisiveness and unwillingness to learn her coffee never a bother when it came to Alessia.

Really, at the end of every day, no matter what, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else but Alessia. In fact, you didn't want anybody else, the blonde your favourite person, the best part of you.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Make the fluffiest and spiciest hero x villain you can. This is a challenge.

Smut.

Raindrops drummed against the window by the time the hero came home. It wasn’t like them to be late, they rather risked the embarrassing sprint to catch the bus than be late for their usual dinner time but today, traffic had been everything but kind and work was aggrieving them as so often. Days became slow and steady; boring and absolutely despicable with the prospect of falling into bed alone.

Ever since the villain had left for business a few months ago, the hero found themselves in a hole they’d dug secretly. So unnoticeable at first with the tiniest hint that something was wrong not being enough for them to actually wake up and see the pain they were in.

Mad at the disruption, they threw their bag full of bloody and sweaty uniforms into a corner, certain that they would start screaming if their mind would think about work for another second. With just as much enthusiasm, they let themselves fall onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, their breath heavy. As their mind wandered to the villain, as so often, they felt a stinging hungriness that settled into their stomach.

The hero was the only person the villain truly liked. No matter if it was on the battlefield or in bed, the hero had noticed a perfected protectiveness the villain let slip occasionally that made them feel safe and sound. The question why them was always complicated and on some days, the hero felt quite replaceable — maybe because of past relationships, maybe because of anxiety in general, they could never really tell — without the villain giving them any reason to.

Evidently, the absence hurt more than the fights. It was oh so much worse than the screaming and crying and breaking down in the bathroom alone. Because when that really did happen, the villain always managed to talk the hero into opening the door to be held. Comfort was difficult for the villain. Words never really reached their true meaning, emotions couldn’t be explained steadily but they didn’t need all of that. There were times when the villain only hugged the hero and let them cry into their shoulder.

That was enough.

The villain’s broad shoulders could feel like heaven.

When the hero realised they were drifting off into a very sad and distant memory like someone under hypnosis, they snapped out of it, clearing their throat, and ordered the takeout they were craving.

It wasn’t until 11pm that they actually got to eat anything which explained the headache but not the melancholy. Decaying on their couch, trying to read, they found themselves bored to death. They debated if they should just go to bed but they figured another lonely night would (once again) keep them awake for hours. So instead, they skipped through various television shows that burned their last brain cells.

Around one in the morning, the temperature in their apartment dropped significantly, making the tiny hairs on the hero’s spine shoot up. They could see their own breath when they exhaled and they knew — hoped, rather — that it was what they thought it was.

They turned off the TV, blinking the grogginess out of their eyes. Familiarity surrounded them, drenched them in deep longing and as they stood up, searching for their lover, they felt the cold fingertips touch the sensitive skin of their lower back under their shirt.

“Jesus—” Jerking around violently, the hero froze as their eyes met the villain’s. Their features softened. “What took you so long?”

A dangerous ecstasy consumed them from head to toe, ate them raw and left no hair, no bones. The hero was head over heels, completely obsessed with their nemesis and they were, by god, not gonna do anything about it in a million years.

This was their idiot. Their person.

“Is traffic a poor excuse?” the villain asked, crossing arms in front of their chest. Every time the villain tilted their head, the hero could feel their own self-composure crumble.

“You can teleport,” the hero reminded them. A soft smile answered.

“Doesn’t mean I abhor road trips. There’s little space in a car.” The hero’s eyebrows bunched.

“What does that mean?”

“Limited possibilities regarding your position,” the villain said. They looked quite proud of themselves. “I like challenging you. Figuring out your limits.”

The insinuation made the hero blush and as so often, they felt like a sinner walking into a church. Sometimes they wondered if they would burst into flames if they kissed the villain one more time. Being greedy and sleeping with the enemy was wrong but falling in love with them?

Understanding their motives a little too well? That was a free ticket to hell.

“I missed you,” the hero said tenderly. A sarcastic laugh was all the villain managed.

“You missed my body.”

“I missed you.”

Silence. Two pairs of eyes staring into each other a bit too deeply. It was the kind of stare the villain gave them when they edged the hero to a climax. They loved to observe, loved to see the hero’s reactions, loved to feel them.

“You’re rude. Didn’t even knock.” The villain hummed and averted their eyes hastily, almost as if they were embarrassed.

“Sorry.” They took a step forward and snatched the hero’s wrist. Slowly, they led the palm of their hand to their face and closed their eyes. The villain drowned in the touch just as much as the hero: leaning into it, kissing the hero’s hand gently and mumbling words like so soft gave them away.

“I don’t have to stitch you up again, do I?” the hero asked eventually but the villain’s hands were already sliding down their forearms, finding their waist too easily. At this point, it was simple muscle memory. The villain knew where to touch and more importantly with which pressure.

“No, I was careful. I knew I’d get an earful if I wasn’t.” Their hand found the hero’s ass and squeezed gently. It made the hero almost jump. “I’ve been good, I promise.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” The hero felt their pulse rushing through their veins. Almost there. Only a few inches and the villain would kiss them. They crucified themselves in their mind.

“Judge, jury and executioner,” the villain purred. They leaned in and their warm breath tickled the skin of the hero’s neck, the tip of their nose brushed the shell of the hero’s ear, forcing a needy heat into the vulnerable spot between the hero’s legs. “Condemn me.”

“I—” Before the hero could respond, the villain pushed them back into the couch and kissed them sweetly. Their mouth was still closed and it could’ve been viewed as very innocent if it wasn’t for the villain’s fingers gliding under the hero’s shirt.

“No.” The hero pulled back with their hands on the villain’s chest. Putting more distance between them wasn’t what they wanted but they needed to make one thing very clear. For a split second, the villain looked horrified. “I get on top today.”

“What?”

“No answer from you for months. No texts, no calls — nothing.” Now it was their turn to cross their arms in front of their chest. Surprisingly, the pounding of their heart helped with the words, made the trail of thought a straight line instead of a whirlpool of words.

“I apologise, I didn’t know you’d—”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to suffer.” Now, the villain looked concerned but they didn’t have time to say anything. They got flipped around, their back being pressed into the soft couch.

With a mean precision the hero had learnt from the villain, they rocked their hips carefully. Skin rubbing against clothes and clothes rubbing against clothes rubbing against skin — the villain moaned sweetly as their fingers pressed into the hero’s hips. A cruel satisfaction came over them as they watched the villain’s expression. Just a few movements and the criminal was completely under their control.

“Fuck…” Their eyes were closed and their head thrown back, completely caught off guard. Why the hero’s brain drew parallels to a fallen angel wasn’t important. It was important that it was right. They looked like some kind of saint. Something so unholy and untouchable that you wouldn’t hear from them for months.

“Never realised you can be such a good whore for me,” the hero whispered and as they saw the blown-up pupils of their lover, they began to truly enjoy this torture. “You’re always doing the work, always so eager to please. I should’ve known…”

“Please—” The villain’s usually cold body had become a heat pack, making even the hero sweat. Soon enough, the villain’s clothes fell to the ground and as the hero stared at the villain’s bare chest, tiny drops of sweat on them, they learnt something about themselves.

They wanted to lick it up. So they did. They just took what they wanted, what they needed.

The villain moaned pathetically and pulled on the hero’s hair but the hero didn’t stop there. Mouth and tongue travelled down the villain’s stomach in a low and teasing pace which the hero would use later on the villain for the whole night.

“You’re always so spoiled,” the hero said. They bit into the villain’s hip. “But I’m gonna teach you to be nice. I’ll edge you until you learn.”

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Outlaw! Bakugou who can't bring himself to tell you he loves you, forcing himself to be content with his fingers brushing against yours when he's guiding you through a rough town, or your body pressed back against his chest when he shows you how to use a rifle.

He often dreamt of what it would be like to kiss you, to hold you late at night, to lay you down beneath him in the grass. 

He'd never act on it, though. He knows what this life- his life- does to folk, knows how it turns them hard and cold inside. And the last thing he wants is to watch it turn you. He promises himself that the first chance he gets, he'll leave you behind somewhere safe. And every time that opportunity passes, he finds himself vowing next time, for sure. 

But still, he dreams. Dreams of what that first kiss could be like. What you'd feel like, taste like. 

Not once did he imagine it like this. 

You taste like mud and river water, your skin cold as the current he'd dragged you out of mere moments ago. Water streams down his face and into his eyes as he pinches your nose shut and seals his mouth over yours again, blurring his sight as he breathes fresh air into your lungs. 

It takes longer than it should, but finally, finally, your eyes fly open and your chest heaves as dark river water spews from your mouth, splashing his cheeks as he pulls back just enough to let you suck in air in great, choking sobs.

He swears he's never heard such a beautiful sound, relief flooding his veins as you breathe on your own again.

His hands remain on you, supporting you as you roll over and vomit, brushing through your hair as he murmurs words of comfort. He's panting too, still trying to replenish his own supply of air from where he'd forced it down your throat, but you're both alive, at least for now. 

He replays it in his mind for the rest of the afternoon. How one second, you were carefully picking your way across the river on the back of your horse, and the next, there was a loud splash, and your horse was scrambling up the bank past him.

Without you. 

He'd only turned his back for half a second, and in that half a second, the river had tried to take you from him, dragging you under. 

He swears he's never looking away again.

[stuffeddeer]

small insinuation of self harm

Dazai realizing he loves his s/o, telling them, and then wanting to tell the world ! He's very dramatic, so he repeats it religiously at the agency - a mantra that follows him everywhere :))

Until afterwards when he's alone in his apartment, heart beating out of his chest and feeling especially anxious. What's wrong with him? He didn't do anything differently today than he normally does...

He thinks hard as to what might be causing this, when the door opens and you step in. Oh, he's anxious about you.

But why? He loves you! He's quick to say it as you close and lock his door, and the feeling suddenly returns.

Oh.

He feels a sudden urge to break up with you, loosen contact, drive you away - Does he love you? He didn't want to tell anyone else (he did, he regrets it now). What happens if he falls out of love? Why did he do that? His chest just keeps squeezing, keeps constricting — feeling almost as though he was drowning in his thoughts. A moment of reprieve is granted only by the gentle placement of your hand over his heart.

"Are you alright?"

A few deep breaths and Dazai's heart rate is back in his control. Yes, he loves you, he thinks. But saying it is too scary.

Dazai just looks at you, a war tearing between his brain and his heart, unable to decide how to feel. His brain wants him to vanish: pack up and leave you forever so he doesn't have to deal with this vulnerability. His heart, however, wants to pull you closer. Never leave you, never let you out of his sight, always keep you within six feet of him to protect and love— and like you.

You pull his head onto your chest, cradling it in one hand as the other cards through his hair. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Dazai knows. But telling you he's not actually sure he loves you after his huge breakthrough what was merely the night before feels cruel.

It took a lot for him to open up and admit that, and he's not sure he can open up and admit that he regrets it. He should leave you - you deserve someone better, someone who can shout from the rooftops that you're theirs. But selfishly, he wants to hold you close and let you sooth him.

Seeing him still so torn, not moving as you hold him, causes a frown to come onto your face. All you want is for him to be happy and healthy and loved, and you'd thought you had a 66.67% success rate (you're working on the health thing). Like Dazai had moments prior, you wrack your brain for a change, and quickly land the same place he did: his love for you.

You smile softly, maybe a little sadly, and pull him closer until he's sitting on your lap. "Osamu," you press a kiss to the crown of his head.

He says nothing, just staring blankly. This is the hardest he's ever had to work to keep his heart in check, to stop the frantic beating. Is it hot in here? Should he take off his coat? Why can't he tell everyone he loves his partner? He does love them, he does.

How are you supposed to approach this? If you say you don't have to love me, he could go on the defensive. You just want him to relax. "I'd never force you to do something against your best interest."

Dazai meekly nods. Of course not. You always focus on him and his needs, emotionally and physically. You pack him lunches so he doesn't skip it at work and force him to eat dinners with you most nights. He just now notices the plastic takeout bag on the table - you must have brought that in when you first arrived. You want what's best for him, and he loves you for that! Doesn't he? Does he?

"I don't want you to force yourself into doing anything— saying anything you aren't ready for yet."

Dazai shuts his eyes tightly. Of course you figured it out. Feeling anxious, his heart beats desperately as he relinquishes control, not caring if you notice. Several soft apologies begin to fall from his lips quicker than you can stop them. The turmoil of this is eating him alive, and he hates it. Is running still an option? Does he even want to? The only thing keeping him from opening up new scars tonight is the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He's not sure if he'd leave even if you made him.

Fuck, but staying is so hard. His hands move up to tightly grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching it up between his fingers in hopes to ground himself.

You say nothing, allowing Dazai time to collect himself. Minutes pass, the food you brought likely cold now as Dazai just breathes in your embrace. A small growl from your stomach pulls him from his head finally, a small smile on his face as he looks up, seeing an embarrassed blush decorating your cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry!" Suddenly you're burying your head in Dazai's chest, seeking solace from your embarrassment. You trust him, love him enough to let him comfort you, just as he does you. A groan comes out of your mouth as your hands cover your face.

Dazai chuckles, pulling your head up before gently removing the hands covering your face. Your shoulders fall as Dazai's smile makes you relax. Whatever's bothering him won't go away over night, but you'll always be there to help.

"Come on, let's go eat," Dazai says, voice much calmer than it is when he's loudly boasting about his s/o at the agency. You don't mind. You like this version of Dazai all the same.

He loves you, he's sure of it. He just needs some time to properly accept it before yelling it from the rooftops - and you're more than happy to give him that time.

[sanb3rry]

strawberry picking w/ eren (∩˃o˂∩)♡

a/n: i've been daydreaming about this sm so enjoy ♡ also theres probably typos, lolol.

it started with you running up to eren when he got out of his last class, “let’s go strawberry picking !” you said as you shoved your phone in his face, “hi babe, i'm good and class went pretty well, how about you?” you rolled your eyes. “welll? are you gonna come with me?” you batted your eyelashes at him.

“‘course im coming, i’d go anywhere if it meant you’d be there too” he replied as he lead you down the hallway. you kissed him on the cheek, “love you” he smiled at you “love you more, i’ll pick you up at 3 tomorrow”

weekend had come by and you were fixing your hair and got a text from eren saying he was outside. you took the keys and your phone and locked your house.

"you look pretty" he commented as you got in his car. "thank you" you smiled at him. once you got there, you immediately got a basket for yourself cause eren didn't want one and got inside the greenhouse.

"it's steamy in here" eren commented, "mhm, yea." you nodded. you took his hand leaded him to an aisle, "look at these they're so cute." you squealed as you saw the strawberries.

"cute?" eren asked, confused on how strawberries can be cute. "yes, they're so cute, i just wanna eat them up." you cooed. "you're adorable" he remarked. "shut up.", he chuckled at your flustered state. you picked strawberries and put them in the basket that eren insisted to hold.

“c’mere” he called. “hmm?” you turned to him and you saw him pick a flower from the strawberry bush. “it’s pretty just like you.” he said as he carefully put it in your hair. you felt your face get hot and it somehow got hotter when he pecked your lips.

“you’re pretty too.”

“yea?” he smiled, “yea.” you kissed him again.

as you finished picking all the strawberries you went through them to pick out any bad ones that you put in accidentally. “why are we doing this again” he asked, “cause i want to make sure they’re all perfect” you answered. he hummed in response, “look at this one, it looks like that cat you obsess over.” he showed you the strawberry that freakishly resembled hello kitty.

“woah! it looks like so much like her,” you took the strawberry out of his hands and observed it. “and we both know you know her name.” you looked up at him. “maybe i do, maybe i don’t.” he shrugged.

you both finished picking out the bad strawberries and went to go get them packed. “we picked so many.” you said as you saw all the boxes. “yeah, should i give one to armin?” he asked, you nodded.

after you got done with everything, you two got in his car to leave. “what are you gonna do with these?” eren quizzed. “i’m gonna use them to bake cupcakes! you should come over when i do.” you replied with excitement.

he chuckled at your enthusiasm, “hm, alright. i’ll be sure to be the best taste tester ever.” he said. “if you want to get a taste of them, you better help.”

“i’ll be sure to help by taste testing” he responded, whispering the last part. “what was that?” you questioned.

“nothing.” he laughed.

© sanb3rry2023

[mrpepelemon]

[fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks]

Goldenheart fanfic below the break

No smut, but there's a lot of flirty banter and like, one curse word. And a sword fight. But it's a cute duel between knight boyfriends. (With maybe a little a lot of foreshadowing for the movie thrown in)

No idea how long this is other than it's definitely a lot longer than I thought it would be. Anyway. Hope you enjoy this fic of Bal and Amby letting off some steam the night before the knighting ceremony. :)

In the face of adversity, I am by your side

Thwack! Thwack! Thud. Thud. Thwack!

Then, there were the thousands of people in this kingdom that would be watching the knighting ceremony tomorrow. Watching HIM. At least half of those people fiercely believing that he doesn't belong there and is better off back in the ditch he came from.

The training dummy had seen better days, but it took each hit like a pro as Ballister attacked it with thoroughly-practiced precision and a passionate power that's been keeping him going all his life. It is the fire inside him that kept him fighting for what he believed in. In the face of being sneered at for being a poor kid on the street who could barely afford food, let alone the luxurious baths that all the rich folk seemed to think was a necessity if you wanted to receive any sort of empathy.

As well as in the face of the knights and knights in training, his peers, when they let their pride get in the way of seeing him as a useful part of the team when he proved to be more skilled than them.

He's going to have to face a good number of them tomorrow. He's been told about all the things he will have to do in the ceremony and knows them by heart. Ride in formation up to the bottom of the stairs. Stand straight. You will be second to step before the queen, and when you do, you will wait for her to address you first and thank her. Kneel and present your sword to her. After she nods for you to stand, take your sword and stand on your mark to the side.

Swordfighting will not come into this ceremony. No one will draw a sword on anyone.

Still, a large part of the kingdom doesn't agree with that. And it's hard to feel worthy of defending a people when so many of them are telling you you aren't. So he comes out here.

But Balister is still out here in the empty training yard, fighting a dummy. It helps him clear his mind and feel less anxious when he is actively working hard to achieve his goals. The precise marks hitting the dummy in the exact spots he's been hitting it in for years, leaving prominent marks, some scattered and faded from when he was starting out. From where he began.

He really has come a long way.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

He tries his godamn hardest to prove himself.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

And does his best to ignore all the condescending and sometimes ruthless words and actions that have been thrown his way.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

And knows he'll never truly feel like he deserves to be here!

CLANG!!!

Ballister takes some heavy breaths as he looks at the person behind the sword that has just blocked his own.

He sees blond hair framing a kind, smiling face, and brown eyes looking at him with more love than Balister had ever known before in his life.

There's also some concern.

"Bal. What are you doing?"

Ballister feels heat behind his eyes that had started well before Abrosius stopped him. He lowers his sword and Ambrosius does the same.

"I was just-" he pauses. He wants to make an excuse about how he was just training so he'll sleep better before tomorrow. And while that isn't totally untrue, they both know there's more to this and he doesn't like lying in general, especially to Ambrosius.

"I needed to vent a bit."

"Vent via sword?" Ambrosius draws out the word "sword" with a little lilt in his voice, and tilts his head as he twists his mouth and blinks at Ballister in that silly way that almost always gets at least a chuckle out of him.

He manages to tilt the side of his mouth up in a half smile for a second, still breathing somewhat heavily.

"Yeah, vent via sword."

Ambrosius does a small frown. "You could've come found me you know?"

"You had that fitting for the last touches of your armor for tomorrow and-

"And I would've gladly ditched it to be with you, especially if you needed me." Ambrosius brought his hand to gently hold Balister's face. That, combined with his earnest look, made it easy for Ballister to lean into his hand, both to seek comfort, and maybe hide a bit of his embarrassment as he blushed. Not that he really needs to hide from Ambrosius, but there are some habits Ballister is going to need a long time to break if he ever does at all. He's gotten pretty good at appearing confident, but feeling confident is still a struggle for him. Even though it's a little easier around Ambrosius.

Everything is easier when he's with Ambrosius.

"Besides, do you really think I need more glitz and glamor on that heavy ass armor? Honestly, this face is all I need to be the charming golden boy everybody loves."

Ballister does smile and scoff at that. "First of all, language." Ambrosius rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, which only makes Bal smile more. "And second of all, that armor IS pretty eyecatching. A little extra blitz does goes a long way." His hands are around Ambrosius' waist now. Ambrosius' other hand comes up to Ballister's chest. He leans in to whisper barely half an inch away from his lips, "and I wouldn’t be so cocky about the face thing."

Ambrosius gasps, trying not to let the sound turn into laughter." He pushes Bal. They let go of each other, but don't make any more space between them.

"You like my face. You know you do."

Ballister pretends to make a thinking face. "Hmmm, I don't know about that."

Ambrosius steps back and taps his sword saying "well, in that case, I may have to challenge you to a duel, Sir Boldheart." He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

Balister tries and fails not to smile as he says "are you sure about that. I've beaten you sooo many times before. What makes you think you'll win this time?"

"I have a secret weapon up my sleeve," Ambrosius declares dramatically. "But if you're too scared..." He smiles knowingly.

Ballister's eyes light up with the challenge. He takes a stance.

They circle each other slowly at first. A good couple feet of space between them. Their swords meet flirtatiously a few times before Ballister moves in.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Ambrosius is backed up a few paces. He turns from Ballister to come at him from a slightly different angle and-

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Ballister meets each blow without moving from his spot. He smiles. Ambrosius narrows his eyes and crinkles his nose jokingly. "Oh, I'm Ballister, and I'm as unmovable as a rock." Their swords continue meeting as Ballister responds. "It's not my fault that you're as unable to stand still as a dancer."

Ambrosius laughs. He does an extra twirl as he brings his leg up to hit him square in the chest. Ballister takes a single step back.

"Not as immovable as you thought then, huh." "Well, if anyone was going to move me, it would be you." Ambrosius stops and turns pink at the sudden sincerity. Ballister takes the chance to swing his sword carefully over Ambrosius' head. His blond curls swooping down from the air as it goes past before popping right back up. Ambrosius looks up in surprise before frowning at him. He raises a single eyebrow that gets a small snicker out of Ballister. Ambrosius goes back in and they continue their playful duel. Each of them put slightly more effort in until Ballister has Ambrosius pushed up against the dummy. Ambrosius tries to wriggle away but can't.

"Give in?" Ballister asks.

Ambrosius pauses before glancing down at his lips. "Nah." And kisses Balister hard enough to knock him just enough off his stance to be able to step back and push Ballister to the ground. They're swords ditched in the fall to avoid any accidents. Ambrosius lands on top of him and sits up, pinning him down. He says triumphantly, "I told you I had a secret weapon."

Ballister shifts a bit then responds with a smirk, "do you now?" Quick as a flash, Ambrosius finds himself flipped onto his back. Ballister leans close enough for their noses to brush and says, "Funnily enough, I do as well," Then quickly stands up and grabs his sword before Ambrosius can flip them again. He points the sword in the general direction of Ambrosius, who is lying on the ground in shock.

"I think this means I win then, yeah?"

Ambrosius lowers his head tiredly and laughs. "Yeah, Bal. I think you definitely win."

Ballister goes over and holds out his hand. Ambrosius takes it and helps himself up with ease before looking Ballister in the eyes. There really is so much love in them. Ballister can hardly believe it.

But then, he really should by now. They've known each other since they were kids and even with the media painting them as rivals, even with nearly everyone else in Ambrosius' life telling him to be someone who, in a world that makes sense to them, would never associate with Bal... Even with all the things making it harder for Ambrosius to love Ballister, he loves him anyway. And, though it wasn't nearly as strong then, he has loved Ballister pretty much since they met. And Ballister has loved Ambrosius just as much.

Ballister has always had his own fire to keep him going. Keeping him fighting. But when Ambrosius became his best friend, he started to think maybe he doesn't have to keep that fire going alone. Now, he knows he doesn't. Even if he still forgets it sometimes, Ambrosius is always there and will always love him. And that makes the fire burn brighter than ever.

"Feeling better?" Ambrosius asks.

Ballister looks at his boyfriend and feels how the abundance of love in his chest has made his anxiety about the ceremony incredibly smaller.

"Yes, I do. Thank you."

"ANY time, Bal." He brings ballister closer to lean their foreheads against one another's.

"I'll always be here for you. I love you."

"I love you too."

They let themselves stay in the comfort of each other's love for the other for a moment. Their breathing slows to an even pace after being heightened in the fight.

Ambrosius leans away. "Wanna get tacos?"

They get tacos to-go for once and giggle as they hold hands all the way up to their secret spot high in the castle. They sit shoulder to shoulder as they start unwrapping their tacos and settle in to watch the sunset together.

Both of them are still nervous about tomorrow. They each have mountains of expectations that will be pressing that much more heavily into their shoulders as the eyes of thousands bear down on them. But they will take on the challenge together.

As Ambrosius leans into him, Ballister looks at the bright pink hues in the sky and thinks to himself with a surprising amount of certainty, "Whatever happens tomorrow, I know I'm not alone."

[blondedmuse]

JUST FOR TONIGHT

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader

synopsis. ꩜ you learn how bradley truly feels about you.

author's note. ∿ wow look whose writing again! this also has no editing because i’m so tired and wrote this in 30 minutes

word count. ⨾ idk a lot

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It’s the middle of a the night and you found yourself wide awake and held tightly in strong arms. You should be tired and you should be asleep but the heartbeat of the man behind you has kept you wide awake.

He’d ended up in your bed more often than not in the past few months and you in his. It’s a game you didn’t know you were playing, tip-toeing around each other to see who would fold first.

It was usually you, and you’d take him home with no regrets that night but then once he was gone by morning there was always a sour taste left in your mouth.

It lingered because you were yearning for something more—something you weren’t sure Bradley wanted. While he took you out from time to time, you continued to tell yourself you were just friends; with benefits of course.

There were lines that you established neither of you were meant to cross, yet it’s as if those boundaries were made to be broken.

So now you lay wide awake contemplating where you stand and what this means for the both of you. You tilt you head so you can see Bradley and you don’t think the thoughts of your present have ever once occurred to him. Maybe they have but it’s not worth the headache, especially at four in the morning.

So carefully, you slip from the hold of his arms and off the bed and head to the living room, taking your acoustic guitar with you. You settle on your couch with the hopes that music will serve as a sufficient distraction and your fingers drift to the chords of I Love You So by The Walters.

The song is quiet enough to keep him from his wake and you sing the words just above a whisper. Halfway through the song you almost forgot Bradley was in your bedroom—almost.

The truth is the moment you’d left the room and your side of the bed was cold, he woke up. He’d slowly been growing accustomed to your body in his arms as he fell asleep, which he damned himself for because it was never meant to happen. It was never meant to happen because why would you feel that same? You were just friends, right?

Still he woke up looking around the room for your figure and as soon as he heard a voice he realized maybe he didn’t have to search far. It wasn’t long before he noticed you were singing, to which he then realized he’d never heard before. He’d always wanted to ask you to play something for him, to hear your voice to the tune of one of your favorite songs and now he had the chance.

He walked downstairs as quietly as he could which proved itself to be not quiet enough as you turned around to see him standing at the bottom of your stairs.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t mind.” he sighed before thinking of the right words to say.

“I’d like it if you kept going.”

You hesitated before nodding to the spot next to you on the couch. “Don’t you have training tomorrow? I just- I think you should get some sleep. Proper sleep.”

“I’ll be fine. I’d rather you sing me to sleep anyways,” He told you, shifting his position so that he was lying down.

“Please?” He asked and how could you say no?

“Alright,” You agreed and your fingers started once again. Going for something slower, you started playing John Wayne by Cigarettes After Sex, singing along like you had done earlier.

Once you finished the song you were sure he was out like a light with his eyes closed and breathing slowed, and you were stuck in this awkward position once again. Before you could get up however, the sound of his voice left you frozen.

“I hope you know I love your voice. Love it almost just as much as I love you,” He rasped.

Your brows cinched together and you heart stopped momentarily. Did Bradley just say he loves you? You looked to him again to see his eyes flutter open, searching your face for any kind of reaction.

“You don’t have to say anything Y/N, I just wanted to tell you. But if anything, I do want you to stay with me. Just for tonight?”

You obliged, setting your guitar down on the coffee table in front of you and lying down next to Bradley, allowing him to hold your once again and you allowed his warmth to consume you like a love.

You knew you would talk about this tomorrow morning, but for now you could only hope it wasn’t just for tonight.

[bewilderedbunny]

Weedman (Eddie x Reader fluff) 18+only!

This was originally going to be smut but I got distracted by the idea of flirting with Eddie while he makes bad jokes. Just over 800 words, no pronouns are used for reader.

Warnings: Lots of drug use talk, reader's mom speaks of food in a negative way, there's a joke about sex work but it isn't at any sex-workers' expense (it's just Eddie being silly) reader is a stressed out college student, I think that's all.

*I also wanted to mention, I did not come up with the joke Eddie makes at the beginning of the phone call, it's just something I've heard around and I'm not sure where it originates from

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 2 is here

You had just finished exams for your Junior year of college and you were drained. Normally, you would stay in the city while working for the summer, but this year you decided to take a break and go back home to stay with your family. You had hoped this time off would provide some much-needed relaxation. Speaking of relaxation, you had become a bit of a pothead while away from home. The amount of weight that magic little flower would lift from your shoulders was incredible. You hadn't smoked in high school, but you remembered the local dealer at the time. "Reefer Rick" how could you forget a name like that? Unluckily for you, Rick was picked up last month and wouldn't be out until your break was long over.

You thought this may be for the best. You had been smoking pretty regularly to help alleviate the stress of school, maybe a tolerance break could help reset your nerves. Then that night your mom asked if you were really going to have dessert since you already had a roll with dinner. You realized weed might not be enough to get you through this break. Maybe horse tranquilizers or a lobotomy would do the job.

After dessert, which you savored every bite of, you went to your room and decided to try to find a new supplier. After a few unhelpful phone calls consisting of people reminiscing about high school (how could these people miss hell so much?), you decided to call Robert Swan. He was a friend of a friend who seemed to know just about everything about everyone in Hawkins. Robert let you know that Rick had someone dealing underneath him.

"Huh, I never took Rick for the "management" type."

"Well, he's not exactly running a Burger King but yeah, he's making his way up. Oh my god, did you hear about-"

Robert rambled to you, gossiping about people you couldn't care enough about to remember. After "oh really?" and "no way"-ing your way through the conversation, you got the information for the dealer, thanked Robert, and said goodbye before he could trap you into listening any longer.

You sighed while looking at the paper you had written the dealer's information on. "Eddie Munson" the name was unfamiliar to you.

You dialed the number given to you and after a few rings, a man answered.

"Hawkin's mortuary, you kill 'em, we chill 'em. Would you like to make a reservation?" You took a second to process what he said before realizing the joke.

"Yes, please. Embalming table for two?"

He laughed and sounded embarrassed "Oh shit, I thought you were someone else. Sorry about that. Thanks for playing along."

"No problem. Out of curiosity, who did you think I was?"

"My uncle, he calls me on his lunches at work sometimes to check in, it's fun to mess with him, make him laugh."

"That's sweet he checks on you."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Eddie leaned against the wall twirling the phone cable with his finger.

"Oh, who is this, by the way?"

You tell him your name and how you heard about him.

"Words getting around that I'm the new go-to man, huh? Maybe I should make business cards."

You reply, "What would they say? Eddie Munson: amateur herbalist?"

He laughs and says, "Was thinking: 'Eddie Munson: Dungeon Master, Musician, Weedman, Phone Sex Operator.' Maybe add a drawing of a wizard or a dragon too."

You giggle at his silliness and say, "Don't forget to add mortician to that. How's the phone sex business treating you?"

"Not great, still haven't figured out where my dick goes in the phone." you hold your head in your hands and laugh. He laughs along with you.

You look at the clock, it's already midnight.

"I guess I should ask you about buying since that's the reason I called."

"Oh yeah. Shit, this salesman stuff is hard. How much do you want?"

"What can $50 get me?"

"$50 worth of weed."

You roll your eyes "Sounds like a deal. Can we meet tomorrow? Say 10 am?"

"10 am?! What am I, a doctor?! Who gets up at 10 am during the summer?"

You laugh and say, "Sorry, I didn't think about your beauty sleep. Please forgive me. How about 2 pm?"

"He agrees and gives you his address

"It's a date. Have a goodnight, sweetheart."

"Sweet dreams, Weedman."

Once you hang up the phone, you realize you've been bouncing your leg this entire time. You're unsure if it's from the general nerves or the fact that you've been flirting with a stranger. Was that even flirting or were the two of you just idiots? You think about tracking down your old yearbook to see if he's in there, but decide maybe it'll be better to have the mysterious Weedman's appearance be a surprise.

[yoon-ssi]

the traveler in hsr

gn!traveler x honkai star rail

warnings: none, (just nostalgia), comfort (by Jing Yuan)

word count: ~bit more than 2k

a/n: noticing shit in HSR and connecting it in GI made me do this, also Jing Yuan has me in a chokehold help (characters mentioned subtly/fully or included (spoiler alert): Herta, Asta, Mona, Pom-pom, Himeko, March 7th, Dan Heng, Sampo, Arataki Itto, Paimon, Yae Miko, Gorou, Tingyun, Welt, Yanqing, Xiao, Jing Yuan, Kazuha)

description: what if the traveler continued their journey with the astral express after Teyvat… here the traveler is in place of the trailblazer.

You were walking in Herta's space station getting familiar with your surroundings before it was time to leave with the Astral Express crew. You were sure you were not staying here with Herta so she could lead experiments on you, you didn't need to get experimented on. Moreover, just the thought of it reminded you of a certain Fatui Harbinger you met in Sumeru. The modern aspect of the whole station was something new you haven't seen in a while. It was interesting to see such different technology. Once you heard they had a museum at the station you wished to see it before leaving. You made your way into the big room, it was filled with various objects some of the past, some of other worlds, and some you didn’t recognize. Trying to understand your settings and your upcoming travels, you stopped in front of each of the relics. Once you finished reading a quote under one of them and went to move on to the next one, you caught a glimpse of something all too familiar. It immediately pulled you close Unable to control it yourself, you rushed to it, your eyes staring through the glass. The black feathers of the wind glider shined. The glider looked like it had worn before and had flown in the sky. You felt overwhelmed, not expecting to see it here, reminding you of everything and everyone you left behind… Your eyes dropped to read the description. As the words described the nature and surroundings of Monstadt you felt your heart tighten, a surge of pain and nostalgia pulling you under. You gently put your hand on the glass. Slowly you sat down leaning your head on the cool metal, allowing yourself to feel those emotions. You had your wings back now, and while they felt amazing; being reminded of how you used to glide down the Liyue mountain peaks, the Sumeru desert… so many places with the wind guiding you. It… hurt. You asked Herta if you could perhaps borrow it or just take it with you when you leave the station but were rejected. Not that you expected her to allow you something like that, but you had to… just had to ask at least. While fighting certain enemies the lead researcher Asta fought alongside you. Through spending more time with her,  you couldn't help but giggle at her behavior. Her constant mentions of the stars since she is an astronomer and her spending habits reminded you of a certain astrologist who was once your close friend. So standing in front of the pink-haired girl with her shorter subordinate as she complained about her funds being unavailable you couldn't help but smile to yourself. She noticed you were looking at her endearingly and asked about it.

„Hey, trailblazer is everything okay?“ she smiled, „you're looking at me kinda strange“. You smiled in response your eyes turning into little crescent moons and answered „Ah.. it's nothing. I was just thinking of someone. You reminded me of them.“ You nodded as you ended your sentence. Asta nodded as well, smiling, and then continued the previous conversation.

The express crew seemed nice. Pom-pom was quiet but caring, Welt's way of speech reminded you of a certain older Archon, March 7th was sweet, Himeko seemed to be a very knowledgeable person and Dan Heng said he'd be happy to help with anything you needed from the archive. You assume the journey with them while... trailblazing would be enjoyable.

As the three of you set foot on Jario VI the snow felt comforting, reminding you of your adventures on Dragonspine. You were expecting to experience the effects of the sheer cold and leave in a short amount of time or find a heat source, but March and Dan Heng assured you it's normal and you wouldn't grow to be that cold. A goofy man is the first person you meet and his way of speech warms your heart reminding you of a certain Oni from Inazuma.

At one point you were walking around the Overworld and walked to a rail. You were gazing at the trash can since it was looking at you strangely but you did nothing about it, being a polite and respectful person. The guard looked at you weirdly and once you tried moving on past the rail he informed you it's not allowed at this moment.

In that moment you remembered how Paimon would always say „How about we explore the area ahead of us later?“ whenever you two would wander off too far… You looked down on the rail, then at the guard, and turned away. You were looking at the ground on your way back to the hotel. You kept seeing faces that seemed so familiar that it brought you comfort and a smile to your face, the way you'd see your friends in other people. And you continued to see similar people to them in the way they would talk, walk, behave, or simply their personality.

All the fights were normal something you already got used to before, and the life of trailblazers made sense. You were glad that it was also obvious that your goal was to help the nation or in this case the planet with their stellaron problem.

Xianzhou Loufu came as a breath of fresh air as well. Seeing Tingyun reminded you of the comment Yae Miko made to Gorou that if he took better care of his tail it could even be fluffier. You wondered if his tail would look like Tingyun's. The happy thoughts and memories helped you get through each day. The next day you were chatting with the general, Welt and March while standing in front of the hotel. As you were used to (so far) you were listening, paying attention to their words, this time there was no one above your shoulder to state shared thoughts and opinions. It felt quiet, an empty space that used to be filled. Occasionally, they would look at you to comment, and you'd say a few words but mainly keep quiet. So used to having a companion who spoke for the two of you. Especially since this language wasn't your native tongue, Paimon was helpful in these situations. It was an enjoyable conversation learning some information about the structure of the Luofu and the further plan for catching the Stellaron hunters. What you didn't expect was a smaller boy with blonde hair, the hairstyle just like an Adeptus general to run up to your conversation. He had a big smile on his face and a sword around his waist. His bright personality shined as he spoke and introduced himself. It all made you immediately think... he looked… he looked like… If you and Xiao had a child that's how you think the kid would look… and in that moment it broke your heart. Seeing someone like Xiao wouldn't break it because that isn't him just someone similar to him. But seeing a kid that looks like a son of you… You couldn't help the tears filling up your eyes. In that moment you knew you'd protect that boy with your life although looking at him breaks your heart.

Luckily the conversation seemed to be coming to an end as you were trying to fight the tears. Just before the first tear decided to drop the conversation ended and you managed to turn your face and walk away as the first tear fell.

You didn't notice the general looking at you the whole time since you set your eyes on Yanqing. He noticed your expression change, your smile turn fake, and your eyes fill with pain and tears. As he said his goodbyes to the others he quietly followed the direction you left in.

You sat on a bench a bit further away from the hotel. Your face in your hands, quiet sobs escaping your lips as your emotions and memories flood you. You softly mumbled his name once. „Xiao.“ Knowing you're not in Teyvat and he wouldn't come when you called… That fact alone made you sob harder, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as the pain cut you deep. You pulled your legs closer and leaned your head on your legs. In a couple of minutes, soft footsteps could be heard making you look up showing your face just enough to see who it is and if you're in danger.

You looked up and your honey-colored eyes met golden ones. The general had a worried look on his face. „Hey… mind if I sit?“ You nodded, wiping your cheeks and sitting properly again. As he sat down he looked at you „Are you okay? Your expression changed when you saw Yanqing.“ You took a moment to breathe and calm down your voice. „I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to worry you.“ He looked at you with the softest eyes and offered a smile „I assure you it is no trouble.“ He spoke with a deep voice that soothed your ears. You sighed. Your intuition said he is a safe person to talk to. And so far you were never wrong so you decided to chat openly. „He, Yanqing looks like if me and a… ah..“ Your voice trailed off trying to find the right words. „If me and a person who means a lot to me had a child together.“ You knew how strange that sounded so you quickly added „His small face, hairstyle, wavy hair, and eye color are exactly like his, but the golden hair color is like mine…“ The general nodded and gently put a hand on your shoulder. „I understand you're not having an easy time adapting… some of my assistants said you are new to the Astral crew and spent years somewhere else before this.“ You nodded to his words. He took note you didn't speak much unless necessary, he was much more observant than you expected. You two sat in silence until you calmed down a bit.

He had many thoughts processing in his head, running through the things about you that seemed interesting and different in a way. Like the sword, you kept your hand on at all times. The blade seemed dull, without shine, old, used and it didn't make sense to him. You fought like a very skilled swordfighter, and your technique impeccable. He thought about offering a new sword or maybe offering a polishing up for the one you had but seeing how capable in fights you were he decided not to comment on it, an extraordinary fighter as yourself would have a good reason to use such a sword and he decided to not doubt you.

„After so many years of living and ah..“ You spoke softly, your voice soft and pained. „I connected to the last place I was. The people..“Your voice trailed off again and you sat in a comfortable silence which you desperately needed. Just someone to be there as you process your feelings.

Once he heard you say 'many years of living'  he came to realization the you were closer to age that he was rather than the one your appearance claimed and your current crew thought you were. In the way you carried yourself, the few words you spoke it all confirmed that you were much older than you looked. After all, a person with a long life span can easily recognize another one like them.

The artificial sun started to set and you leaned your head on Jing Yuan's shoulder. He gave your head a few gentle pats as you two enjoyed the silence. Even for him, there weren't people of similar age. Both of you were just calm and sitting on some sort of leaf of peace in this storm that is life. You looked to the side and you felt a soft breeze rustle your hair and you swear for a second you hear a soft voice recite a haiku about the sea. You missed him too… as you took a deep breath in you leaned further onto the general. Maybe you would find some comfort in each other. You remained like this even when the sky got covered in bright stars.

It doesn't feel like what you had so far. The trailblazing was fun and you're enjoying it, the worlds, and the planets are nice to explore. You're making some friends and memories along the way (though, the friends didn't feel like the ones you've made so far) You tried to find hope in it. As fun as it was you didn't expect nostalgia to hit you this much. Furthermore, you didn't expect you'd ever be close to somebody like you were to people in Teyvat again. Yet here you were getting comforted by Jing Yuan. A new friend who seemed like the one that would stick around. Still as amazing as this all was, the Luofu, the Underworld, the Station, the Express… it will never feel like that, like Teyvat, this will never be that.

It will never feel… like home

(maybe you will hold on a bit tighter to Jing Yuan. So your breathing will get easier)