#if i was more self aware i would have seen it sooner

[takemetodragonstone]

i have recently been made aware that it’s not normal to feel discomfort and disgust when people use your given name? like that’s not what everyone who doesn’t like their name means when they say they don’t like their name?? hearing mine makes me cringe and sometimes even makes my skin crawl or my stomach drop and you’re telling me most people don’t experience this????

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen. 

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control. 

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

 “Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ��kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster. 

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[picturejasper20]

So the ¨Best of Luck¨ has quite a lot of going on and could have worked better as second part episode but it still shows well the aftermath of the Operation Birthday Takeback with Dev lashing out and blaming Hazel for ¨stealing¨ his father's attention from him.

We see that Dev went back to his own self and he seems to be kinda worse than he was at the start of the season. He demands for Peri to grant wishes that could ruin Hazel's day or make him win the paper-rock tournament. Peri tries explaining to Dev that he can't do that because of the rules. The two get angry with each other, making Peri go away to i assume would be Fairy World.

On a side comment i was surprised to see Peri still with Dev after this episode after the ending from the last one? I guess it is because Peri is still Dev's godparent, making Peri stay with him. However, we still see that there is a lot of tension between them and they have a fight, so their argument in previous episode still carries weight on here.

While Peri is away, Irep (Peri's anti-fairy) takes the opportunity to become Dev's godparent. Irep thinks that Peri quit being the kid's godparent and takes advantage of Dev's desire to break the rules and his hatred for Hazel to bring chaos on the school.

Dev asks Irep to be let him into the rock-paper competition again and bring bad luck to Hazel. The rest of the episode is about Hazel dealing with all this bad luck and finding a way to counterattack it, all the time without knowing it was happening because of Dev.

Dev manages to win the tournament and tries rubbing it on Hazel's face, only to get praised by Hazel. He gets angry at seeing that he couldn't make Hazel miserable as he wanted and ends up revealing that he has been working with Irep to cheat in the competition and give her bad luck.

Dev asks for Irep to grant him more ¨illegal¨ wishes. Cosmo and Wanda have a magic duel against Irep, causing chaos all over the school's entrance. Around a minute later Jorgen shows up with Peri and reveals that Peri didn't quit and he was in fact taking a break from Dev.

Jorgen undos all the wishes that Irep granted and throws Irep back into the anti-fairy world. Everything returns to normal and Peri is still Dev's godparent. Based on a line from Peri, it seems that Peri was aware that Irep could take advantage of him being missing and he decided to keep an eye on Dev because of this. It is strange why he didn't show up sooner if that was the case. Maybe he didn't check on Dev until some time later when the real chaos started? I don't know.

Near the end of the episode Hazel tries talking to Dev to see what his problem is, in response Dev pushes her away and insults her, making Hazel get angry at him in return and probably cutting him off for the moment. You can see that there is a moment that Dev appears to hesitate when Hazel is talking to him only to go back to his cold self. I think he was likely believing that Hazel was ¨faking¨ being nice to him + still feeling upset for Dale paying more attention to Hazel. He still doesn't Dale doesn't care about him and prefers lashing out and blaming Hazel or the fairies for it.

The episode ends with him leaving and asking his machines to search more information about the anti-fairies, setting up for future plot threats of him teaming up with Irep again or other anti-fairies.

In Best of Luck we see Dev falling into a more antagonistic-villain path, with Irep taking advantage of his anger and desire to break the rules. He is really out to make Hazel miserable- both for believing she ¨faked¨ their friendship all this time and Dale not paying him attention. It could be seen as him trying to make Hazel miserable as she ¨made¨ him feel in Operation Birthday Takeback. From Hazel's part, she tried reasoning with Dev like she did back in the museum episode but Dev is too upset to consider talking to her. Hazel is probably going to have a similar feeling of anger against Dev in the upcoming episodes, unless they are somehow able to talk things through.

[nagy-bari]

on the appeal of Chilchuck Tims

short spoilery rambles on why i zero-ed in on this old man instantly and how i realized the patterns he gets to people.

subversion of the trope: oh they just look like a child while actually they are XXXX years old and--- yes. he's older than he looks, with a good 10 years and it's a boyman design now instead of a loli girl.

BUT wait there's more!

he's older than he looks and he has the experience of his actual age: that man is a father. of 3. the story he's in is his midlife crisis. he's planning on retiring from dungeering after this, he asked for payment UPFRONT (and got it) he has insane (for other characters, but really he's just normal, tries to be normal) work ethics - he got paid, he does the job, he's good at the job, he knows his own worth, strength and limits.

This Man Is Self Aware. He knows his weakness, the job's weakness (how adventure parties slip up and why) he knows he's seen as a bit closed up and he's OKAY WITH THIS.

what he's not okay with? not knowing if a party member is a cannibal or not when they are on this insane survival trip and he's the cook. what does he do?

he knows how to communicate and how much to disclose. Rare one, i know. With the party having an average gossip queen, an autistic foodie, and mysterious chef he knows when to take the lead so they can still function.

so to round it up:

Subversion of the 'looks young actually old', closed up and grumpy rouge who's motto is 'never trust those who don't ask for payment' and has the 'it's called personal life for a reason' philosophy rooted into their blood. Good? good.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE

because he knows he and all halffoots look young to others he actually started up a guild so they can re-enforce their rights as adults and independent people, so they are taken seriously and they can work against bad stereotypes and all.

we see his struggle through volumes, how hard it is for others to finally understand that a short live-spam people is actually just as old and mature as a long live-spam would be, it's mostly the numbers that are different.

we can learn with the other character to take him seriously, to accept the differences.

so he has good work ethic, looks out for his people, has plans for his and other's future, CARES for the future in general and ACTS so it will be a reality- rather sooner than later.

so he's charismatic and lovable while still being the usual tsundere setup for any joke.

BUT WAIT

THERE'S MORE

we first learned that he's actually is an adult (middle aged in half-foot culture)

is an estranged husband

who was left by his wife

cause he cheated-

BUT WAIT ACTUALLY NO

HE LIES ABOUT THE CHEATING!

cause he wants to keep his work persona intact, and it fits more if he says he cheated, cause then people won't BOTHER him with further details

BUT HE DIDN'T

he just went home one day and the wife was gone, with a note

and we learn ALL of this through a subversion of a UNICORN BICORN TALE - a feckin roll up of the whole pure maiden true virtue stuff - and we find out cause the feckin monster SNEERS AT HIM for lying then bites him.

so he's really soft with all the hidden 'better keep to yourself' and don't jump to conclusions cause that only fuels drama, which will hinder your work. but he was clearly hurt by this.

so the subversion here? we are Marcille. the whole fandom is Marcille. we are just as nosy and gossipy as her and it's a tiny little metanarrative joke and i love it, it's wonderful writing and it keeps you wanting more and more, you want this grumpy middle aged father to finally tell you his life story, the mundane little things, to see him brag about his children and all cause he's so goshdarn professional about everything.

but is it subversion at all?

wait...

there's more.

while we get actual introduction to his daughters we truly never seen anything about his wife.

it reaches the hights of Mrs. Columbo level of secrecy and i love it.

but! we know:

they were childhood friends

married when Chilchuck was 13 (almost full grown adult for their culture) and had the twins(?)

left their village at 14

3rd daughter at 15

he started adventuring at age 24 and formed the guild.

wife left when he was 25

Chilchuck started to work with Laios at 26.

he's now almost 29.

they were childhood friends and married for a good 10 year. he was there when he was needed to be a good dad (he's clearly proud of his daughters) and their fallout only started when he started adventuring.

let me say it again.

they. were. childhood. friends.

as much as we see the unfolding of young love in media, with all the teen dramas finding true and forever love in highschool and live happily with the white picket fence for 50+ years we see less of the loves that fizzle out, but were and probably will be friends.

love this. love this little detail cause there's so much in it. The confusion, the still remaining anger, the fustration. they probably would be able to talk it out. they've known each other for most of their life, but his logic and compromises for work (clear communication and a clear head) does not work here.

we don't know how exactly he feels and i love that, but we know he struggles to be open about 'mushy' feelings, grand gestures and all.

he knows his limits. His wife probably knows it too. That's why she's with the middle daughter. The assumed-ly closest to her rather than the oldest (locksmith) or the youngest (conartist?freelancer?life-artist???)

if we learned anything from Dungeon Mushi, it's that Kui Ryoko is a master of diverse characters visually and personality wise as well.

you can reverse engineer the wife if you want to from the girls but i love the joke and the actual comfort this whole Mrs. Columbo it gives.

cause Chilchuck has Columbo vibes. He's competent in his work, knows his limits, knows how to help others and when, knows when to quit and when to move on. and this tiny flaw of his, this domestic mystery we assume is his background (and ground of his disarming normality) is just enough to keep you thinking and re-think and re-think and just grow to love and appreciate the little details and love that was poured into this character of many in this wonderful story.

BUT WAIT

THERE'S MORE

yes he's a father

the dad jokes. oh my good the hidden dad jokes all through-out the series.

the 'i don't want a pet' ---- 'proceeds to be unseparable from said pet' meme with Izutsumi

the actual care and attention he can give when someone is distressed

the TALK with Senshi. that moment.

he's a proud father

but he's above all - practical

well that's all the mad rambling i had in me for now

if you read through this thank you

and do share your thoughts and finds - and ideas about the wife.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 2: The Decision

part 1 | part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason todd easily sees the potential for something more in his friendship with you but resolves to keep his distance.

tags: fluff, self-loathing, off-screen killing

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.8k

a/n: sooo i had planned to get the second chapter out much sooner, wrote it, realized that what i had planned for chapter 3 worked better, had to rewrite chapter 3 as chapter 2, and ended up here (cue the internal screaming). on the upside, that means you’ll all get an update on chapter 3 (formerly chapter 2) much sooner.

Jason Todd has somehow gotten back on track to graduate university, fallen in with a group of friends, and may have found the first person to truly understand him this side of the Pit. He’d been uncertain about finishing university, already dealing with the hassle of running a criminal empire and the tattered threads of his family relationships. But Talia had suggested, “Better not to be consumed by revenge so that one may properly enjoy its results,” and that had been all it took to convince him. Barbara, for all their problems still unresolved, had helped him hide the decision from the bats and hadn’t that been a lovely conversation to have?

Sitting in class that first day had been strange, a sense of deja vu hitting him of all the times he’d sat in classrooms before. A different person answers now when he’s called on to introduce Jason Todd. As part of his time with the League, Talia had arranged for him to take courses by correspondence but none of that had prepared him for it would be like to be in a classroom with a handful of 20-somethings. It makes him feel old to hear them discuss their plans for the future with the surety of a world that will shape itself to their expectations. If he’s honest with himself, it also makes him envious.

He hadn’t expected to be invited to lunch that first day, though he’d at least seen the blonde’s approach. It had been… nice to be noticed, like he was any other 22 year old new to campus and looking for friends. What had really caught Jason’s eye though was Danika’s (that’s what her name was, right?) friend, standing a few rows back. She’d looked downright mortified by her friend’s antics but had smiled tentatively at him anyway. He’d rushed through his meeting with Dr. Okafor, really just confirming a time to discuss his credit transfers. Clearly he’s interrupted yet another embarrassing moment for you, but you handle it with a grace that rivals only Alfred’s ability to deal with inconvenient situations.

That intrigues him though, your kindness even when uncomfortable. Finding out you’re from home, another Crime Alley kid that defied the odds but never forgot your roots endears you to him even more. You bite back, take the attention away from him when you see how flustered he is by Lina calling him pretty and he’s determined now to make you a friend.

You’re smaller than he thought once you’re finally sitting next to him. He’s acutely aware of how the booth forces the two of you together, the long length of him pressed up against your side. The way your knee knocks into his thigh and the soft cushion of where your hip meets his. You’re one of his already, one of those that the Red Hood has claimed as under his protection, but the reality of you drives home who his work is really helping. Your mention of food pulls him out of his thoughts and scrambling to rectify the situation by offering to share his own. He’s positively delighted by your reaction, the way your compliments freely given still have a bite to them that’s honest. A warmth in his stomach that doesn’t originate from the spices in his meal only makes him want to figure out more ways to draw you out of your shell.

You share another class with him in the afternoon and he’s thanking whichever lucky star is smiling down at him that he’ll get you to himself at least once a week for the next few months. Walking into class with an acquaintance, though maybe it's too soon to call you that, is everything he wanted in the time from Before. Lost day dreams of sharing a desk with a friend in high school, hanging out together after, longings for in-jokes and shared histories are rearing their heads. Class passes quickly, a flurry of information and a hyper awareness of how close his body is to yours. It’s only an introductory class, but already he can tell that you’re clever from the few times you speak up. Makes him look forward to the next class when he’d never planned for academics to be his priority.

Class lets out into the evening air just starting to turn crisp with a hint of dampness. He’ll have to go soon, get started with patrol now that darkness was coating the city. He turns to you and distracts himself from the strip of skin where your shirt rides up as you stretch by asking you about your plans for the evening. Walking you to the bus stop is nice, in a quiet kind of way. He stays until he’s sure you’re safely on the bus, doors closing with a pneumatic hiss. Walks off the path and out of the halo of the street lamp until the shadows have swallowed him whole. Takes care to check that no one’s looking and scales the side of the building, gothic stonework rough under his bare palms. Scans the horizon until he’s found your bus again and goes to follow. Thinks that maybe the paranoia that had persuaded him to pack most of his Hood gear in a school bag isn’t the worst thing to suffer from. It’s overboard yeah, but you’re a pretty girl planning to walk alone at night. He just wants to make sure that you get home all right. You weren’t exaggerating when you said the bus stop was only a block from your apartment, but he still breathes easier when he sees the warm glow of lamp light click on through your apartment window. You should have better locks on your window if it’s looking out onto a fire escape, he thinks idly. But its a problem for later and when he’s got a more solid reason to bring it up.

Patrol is quiet most of the night. Buoyed by the unexpected success of the day, his usual route feels brand new. He takes pleasure in the way the wind picks up his jacket and whips it around him, almost laughs out loud at the way his stomach swoops before the grappling line pulls taut. Jason’s managed a full day of normalcy, something that no one thought he could do. Not after everything. He’d talked to people his age that for once weren’t the victim of some terrible crime and came away with the potential for friendships. It’s been a long time since he’s had more than a work related conversation with his men or a cryptic conversation with Talia he doesn’t count all the arguments with his fath— with Bruce. For the first time in a long time being the Hood isn’t the burden it had become. The peace doesn’t last for long though.

A whisper of black fabric on a rooftop just outside of the territory he’s established brings him crashing back down, a reminder of just how badly his attempts at anything other than solitude have fractured. It’s a bracing kind hurt, like when the air’s too cold after a snowfall and you can practically taste the ice crystals as they tear into the soft heat of your lungs. He needs it though, that reminder that no one who knows him is capable of seeing him without the siren call of suspicion following him. That thought follows him through the rest of patrol and the mechanical motions of getting to bed. It solidifies as he drifts off to sleep just as the first rays of light start to clear the skyline. He’ll grasp at this chance to be someone else for a bit, Jason Todd the fresh faced student, but that’s all it’ll be. A façade to keep everyone else from getting too close. Danika, Will, “call me Lina”, Rei, even you. Friends, but at a distance.

Jason doesn’t have any classes on Tuesday, but he runs into you as he exits his meeting with Dr. Okafor. It’s a new building to him, despite the time he’s spent pouring over all of the campus’ blueprints. He turns a corner on a staircase looking for an exit and almost knocks you back down where you’d just emerged from.

“Hey! Are you blind or— oh. Jason.” Your tone goes from indignant to wondering in a second, eyes wide with recognition.

“Not blind, but definitely not paying enough attention. You good though?” And he should probably be a little more sorry about it, but the glee of not having to wait until the next week to see you again outweighs it.

“Oh after the class I just had, it’d take a lot more than that to ruin my day.” A group tries to pass you two on the stairs, buffets the two of you into the railing.

“You wanna take this somewhere else? Give me another chance to ruin your day?” He grins, lopsided but hopeful.

You nod, and he leads the way, hulking figure cutting through the stream of people. He finds a nook on the first floor, big overstuffed chairs surprisingly empty for this time of day. You throw yourself into a chair dramatically, a sigh on your lips as your head tilts back.

“Class really that bad?” He prompts you.

“God I hate assholes that manage to make the most interesting subject painful. Like, at least wait until the second class before you start telling every single student their interpretation is wrong.” You swipe a hand across your face before visibly trying to pull yourself back together. “But as much as I hate Duvall’s teaching it’s mandatory for my program so I’m just gonna have to put up with his shit until next semester. Get my revenge during prof evaluations.”

“Look we don’t know each other that well, but by my reckonin’ you know what you’re on about. Don’t let him shake you, yeah?”

“Oh I know all about not listening to people that think my opinion isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. It just pisses me off that I still gotta deal with it every week for the foreseeable future.”

“Hey I’m all ears.” He offers, and it’s not entirely altruistic. Jason wants to support you, but it’s also a chance to learn more about you. It’s all a chance to be regular civilian he tells himself, and a civilian would do this for a friend.

“I’d love to but I think it’s right about—“ and the alarm on your phone sounds out, “yep, its about time for me to head to my internship.” You start to gather your things together. “But usually our group gets together on Wednesday afternoons to grab lunch and study together. We usually grab the same table in the student union around noon if you want to join us.”

Jason does join the study session, not that he needs to. But it's nice to spend time with people who like who they think he is. He arrives just as you slide into the booth, secures himself the seat next you (and the rest of the bench for himself). Your hair falls as you spread out your books and Jason’s close enough to smell whatever product you used last. It dazes him for a minute, and its only the arrival of Lina and Rei that shakes him out of his stupor. He starts up a conversation with Rei on the Gotham U swim team and gets roped in to come practice with him sometime next week. Not to be out done, Lina gently starts asking him how he’s settling in. He answers noncommittally, more focused on the way you’ve started to twirl your pen between your fingers as you come across a particularly dense passage. Seeming to understand that she won’t get much more out of Jason, Lina nudges Rei and they turn to their own books, though not without a tight-lipped and knowing smile on her face. The four of you work in silence broken only by the scribbling of pens and clacking of keyboards. Danika and Will turn up just as your stomach starts rumbling, causing you to meet Jason’s eyes in embarrassment.

He winks at you, before pulling out two Tupperware containers with chopsticks. Sliding one over to you he pretends not to notice as at first you protest, then guiltily start digging in as soon as you smell it.

Brandishing your chopsticks at him, you say “Don’t think I’m not keeping score mister. This has got to count as psychological warfare, there’s no way a sane person could turn you down after tasting your food once.”

He tucks a smile away and simply keeps eating. Will drags over some chairs for him and Danika, the one extra person throwing off your previously established seating arrangements. Conversation buzzes at the other end of the table but he can’t tear his attention away from you enjoying the labours of his hands. Eventually the table turns back to studying and you slide the container back to him with murmured words of thanks. Even you can only study for so long, so it's no great surprise when your books softly thump closed. You rest your forehead on the table and groan.

“Why is there so much reading? It’s only the first week back.”

“Ooooh, you know what that means though?” Danika exclaims. “We have to celebrate the first week back and that means going out! We’ll get dressed up, I’ll do your makeup, we can pregame at mine. You know you want to.” She wheedles.

You mock groan at her pronouncement, turn to rest your temple on the table to make eye contact with her. “Lina does my makeup and we’re done by 1 AM.”

“Awe, killjoy,” the blonde pouts.

“Lina does my makeup, Jason’s in charge of picking the post-club takeout, and we’re done by 2 AM. Final offer.”

Lina grins at Jason before shrugging. “Fine by me.”

Jason’s not sure what to expect when he shows up to the address Danika had sent through the group text. It’s a nicer part of town, a part of Gotham Heights he’s had no reason to visit as either of his identities. The doorman lets him in without too much fuss once Danika calls down to confirm he’s expected. She lets him in excitedly, limbs uncoordinated with the help of a few drinks. Rei leans forward to pour Jason a drink and at the same time you turn to look for who had arrived. The first thing Jason notices is the shiny red lip gloss you’re wearing as your lips spread into a smile at the sight of them. Something about the colour, bolder than you usually wear, sends heat straight to his groin. He hadn’t even realized that his hearing had gone muffled until Rei asks him for a second time how many shots Jason wants in his drink. Oh, he thinks distractedly. This could be a problem.

It definitely is a problem when he’s washing blood off his hands in the early hours of the morning and the only thing he can think of is that same cherry red lip gloss wrapped around the straw of your drink under the club’s strobing lights. How you’d looked up at him with pupils dilated from the drink and the heat, lips parted and gloss catching the light. The self-loathing hits then, crippling in its intensity. You’re smart and funny and so pretty it makes his breath catch. The last thing you need is him fantasizing after you less than an hour after he’d taken a life. The colour of a man’s life blood shouldn’t be causing him desperate to see if you’d taste as sweet as you look. It’s selfish and cowardly but he doesn’t want to give you up just yet. Doesn’t want to see the little smiles and commiserating looks turn to fear and hatred just yet. No, he can do this. He can smile and play nice, play at the Jason Todd you deserve. The one that won’t make you worry or hurt you with the truth of himself. Rules, he decides, rules are what he needs because it’s oh so easy to get caught up in you.

He can get close, but he can’t touch. It doesn’t matter how soft your skin looks or how tempting it would be to play with your hair. If he lets himself touch he is lost.

He will never let himself enter your home. He’s already followed you there, it’s a lost cause to pretend that he won’t check up on your safety. Better to decide now to never cross that final threshold.

He won’t let you in. He’ll be the best friend he is capable of being but he won’t let you see the truth of him. After all, it’s what’s sent those that know him running.

He will never tell you that he’s ever thought about anything more than friendship.

Part 3

[sorcerous-caress]

Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?

Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye

[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]

[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]

Karlach

She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.

As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.

Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.

She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.

Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.

She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.

Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.

You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.

Laezel

She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.

As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.

Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.

She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.

But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.

Wyll

While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.

He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.

Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.

Halsin

His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.

Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.

But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.

He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.

Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.

True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.

[i9messi]

Speak Now — Max Verstappen

You're Max’s best friend. When he announces he's gonna get married you can't believe it. Is it too late and inopportune to let him know you're in love with him?

Word count — 1,8k

a/n: happy ending!!

max’s masterlist

"I'm going to get married. She said yes."

The call seemed to end abruptly, but you knew very well that Max was on the other side of the line, waiting for your answer. A bittersweet taste had settled in your mouth and tears began to build up in your eyes, all as you thought of what response to give. A best friend would be happy for him, a best friend would just want to see him fulfill his dreams. However, things were complicated. You felt sad, broken and submerged in deep pain.

In your stupidest dreams, you’d hoped Max would finally notice you. You’d been there, you’d listened to him and advised him every time he fought with his girlfriend. You pretended to be happy when you saw them coming back. Max had gotten so used to your presence that you had become invisible to his eyes. You were just a friend to him.

In part, it was no surprise that Max had proposed to his partner. You had assumed that sooner or later the relationship was going to become much stronger. Still, you didn’t expect to do it so soon.

"Are you there?"

"Oh, yes, Max. I’m sorry." You swallowed saliva. "I’m happy for you."

When you closed your eyes, it didn’t seem right. Max didn’t have to marry her. It wasn’t the way it should have been.

Seven months later and after much anxiety on your part, it was finally the wedding day. You had hesitated to go, mainly because your invitation had rarely never arrived. Max wasn’t aware of the way the bride had excluded you, and you hadn’t told him either. Daniel was the one who insisted multiple times on going together. In his company you had reached the beautiful place where Max was going to get married, and your eyes connected with the rest of the guests. The bride’s family were dressed in pastel.

"When the priest says speak now or forever hold your peace you have to appear abruptly and say that he is your man. Wave me down a little early so I can get my cell phone and record it." Danny joked, although it wasn’t really being a total joke, a small part of him expected the ceremony to be canceled. You denied with your head.

"I’ll behave myself, it’s Max’s day."

Daniel let out a sigh.

"I’ll go get alcohol, we need it a lot."

As the Australian disappeared from your sight, you were left alone, looking everywhere. You could feel curious looks on you. Some of the bride’s friends looked at you with raised eyebrows, while whispering among them. Barely five minutes passed, when two of them decided to come over to talk to you.

"I didn’t know you were invited," said the first.

"If I remember correctly, the bride didn’t invite you."

To save you, Daniel returned to your side, with two glasses of some liquid. The girls came back with their friends' group and your friend offered you a drink.

"You need it more than I do."

You hadn’t seen Max yet and you wanted to cry. So you got the drink and tasted the alcohol in your lips. You were just gonna have a drink, you didn’t want to be a sad drunk that day. You’d save the tears for later, when you were in the privacy of your home.

"Why do I feel like I’m being practically kicked out of here? I know I wasn’t invited, but I don’t have to be treated like I broke in either."

"The thing is, it’s painful to see the person you love marry someone else. It’s obvious how you feel about Max and nobody expected you to actually decide to come here."

"He’s my best friend, as much as it hurts, I want to see him happy."

"Even when he's happy with someone else?"

You nodded, "Even to someone other than me."

Daniel Ricciardo shook his head, "I’m told Max is nervous. I think it would do him good to talk to you. You’re the only one who knows how to calm him when he’s like this."

After a bad race, you were always there to have a conversation with him. Max Verstappen was a self-confident person, but he also got easily mad when things didn’t go the way he had planned. There was a lot of pressure on him to do his best. Even when you weren’t in the same country as him, one phone call from you was enough to get him in a better mood.

You nodded and went to where Max was supposedly to be. You knocked on the door and took a breath, that’s when you heard his voice saying you could pass. The vision completely shattered you. Max was wearing a black suit, one that fit him perfectly. He was even more beautiful than usual, he was the perfect groom. It was just a few minutes before he went out and tied himself up for the rest of his life with another woman. Realization caused you a new wound in your heart.

"Max."

"Here you are, lieverd. I’ve been looking for you for hours."

He came practically running to your side and melted you into a hug. Having him around and at the same time so far away, you ended up breaking. You started shaking and crying in his arms, it was impossible to hold him much longer. Max finally heard your sobs and noticed your tremor, his concern grew.

"What's wrong?"

When you didn’t answer, he took you by the face and your eyes met.

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

It was too late. You couldn’t say you loved him, it was his wedding. You wanted to oppose it, you wanted to yell at the priest that they couldn’t get married. That Max was marrying the wrong girl. Yet you couldn’t do it. You loved him enough to want him to be happy.

You shook your head, "I’m sorry, Max. I have to go, I just... I hope you're happy."

"Wait!"

You ignored him and ran as fast as you could, away from him. You found an empty room and with the curtains closed, the atmosphere of the room seemed dull and melancholy. You knelt on the floor and allowed yourself to cry. It didn’t matter anymore, the person you loved the most in your life was going to marry someone else. After months of waiting, Max was going to say yes in a few minutes.

"Lieverd."

"Don’t call me that."

You didn’t know when he had gotten to where you were. Not caring about the dust in the room, he knelt on the floor next to you. His suit was going to be ruined because of you.

"What’s wrong with you? Why are you running? Why are you crying?"

You looked at him, "Don’t tell me you don’t know, Max. Everybody knows."

"Knows what?"

"I’m in love with you and it hurts so much."

Max was puzzled by your statement. Hell, you thought, why did you have to talk? Couldn’t you have waited, or at least shut up for the rest of your life?

"Look, I know I’m being selfish and it wasn’t the way this day was supposed to be. It’s your day, it’s your wedding and you just have to be focused on your wife-to-be."

"Are you in love with me?"

"Max..."

"Answer."

Max held his breath and so did you. There was no room for lies.

"Yes, I am. I have loved you for years."

"And why didn’t you ever tell me?"

"Because I know you don’t feel the same way, and I understand. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend, and I certainly didn’t want you looking at me like you are now." you closed your eyes and opened them again, Max was looking at you with those eyes that you had fallen in love with. "It doesn’t matter anymore, it doesn’t change anything. Nothing’s gonna change, telling you just made everything worse."

"Since when do you feel this?”

"Max..." his gaze let you know that he needed you to answer his question. "I’ve loved you since we met, and I think the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop even if I wanted to."

There was a prolonged silence. You let out a sigh, you had ruined everything.

"I’m sorry, Max. I’m sorry for everything, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again."

Max stopped you before you could get up, his hand held yours in a strong grip. You could feel the warmth of his hand and you could almost hear your own heartbeat.

"No, don’t go away."

"Max."

"What makes you think I don’t feel the same way about you? What makes you think I’m happily marrying her?

"You’re not happy? I don’t understand... it’s your marriage, you and her—"

"Stop, listen to me. I know that I was supposed to marry her, I’ve thought several times about what was supposed to be best for me. I thought I loved her and she was the one... but I can’t stop thinking about you. Funny, isn’t it? Because while I’m thinking about you, she doesn’t even occupy even a fraction of my mind. While I have been waiting in that room, I have thought of everything."

"I know now she’s not the woman I want to marry, that’s you. It’s always been you. And now that you’re saying this, that you’re in love with me- I can’t know that the woman I’m in love with also feels the same way about me, and that with my decision I’m breaking her heart."

You couldn’t understand anything that was going on. It almost seemed like a dream, finally someone seemed to hear your prayers.

"But you’re going to marry her, she’s waiting for you. The guests..."

"I don’t care about anyone, I only care about you. I love you. Only you."

You smiled, "Max, are you sure?"

"I am."

And saying that, he grabbed your cheeks and kissed you. It was the first kiss, his lips felt exactly as you had dreamed. It was a sweet and desperate kiss, two lovers who despite the tragic events they had experienced, finally let their hearts be heard. You couldn’t believe it, Max felt the same. You grabbed him harder, never wanting him to separate from you. You wanted the moment to last a lifetime, because you had never been happier. When you walked away, you smiled at him and his eyes shone.

"I love you, Lieverd."

Just a couple of minutes later, Daniel helped the two of you escape from the horrified looks from everyone in the room.

[shalomniscient]

worship (like a dog) || rahu x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Rahu is hardly the first person you know like this, in fact a few sinners come to mind immediately, but she is perhaps the worst of them all. She does little to conceal her desire; you know the way she looks at you, can feel it against your skin, and yet Rahu herself would sooner gnaw her own leg off than ever admit to it. Tonight, however, you intend to put an end to this fruitless and frustrating back and forth—one way or another.  Or, you help Rahu take what she wants. (and she does, more than you expect.)

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] rahu has a dick in this (a big one), deepthroating, facefucking, breeding, squirting, use of puppy as a pet name, multiple orgasms, praising, switch!rahu, switch!reader

wc. 4.2k of pure filth

You don’t normally wear dresses like these, so revealing and eye catching. You’ve always been more comfortable in the shirt, slacks and coat of your typical attire, given its sheer functionality and the way it sufficiently shields you from any wandering eyes. But desperate times call for desperate measures—like trying to get your self-proclaimed bodyguard, Rahu, to finally take you like you know she’s always wanted.

So here you stand, in front of a full-length mirror in your bedroom after coming back from another FAC-sponsored gala, Rahu standing vigilantly in the doorway just outside the door you left ever so slightly ajar. You can feel Rahu’s silver gaze burn against your skin as you undo the clasp in the front of your dress. The sleeves slip from your shoulders, revealing the angular line of your collarbones, and you hear Rahu’s breath hitch sharply. You eye her carefully in the mirror, aware that the neckline of your dress has dropped dangerously low. Right now, the only thing keeping the dress on your body now was the zip in the back. 

“Rahu,” you call to her. “Will you help me with the zipper?”

Rahu’s fingers twitch, but then she nods. Stiffly, she walks towards you, until she is almost pressed against your back. The mask she wears echoes the sound of her deep, steady breathing, and the first touch of her gloved hands against your back almost makes you shiver. Slowly, carefully, Rahu pulls the zipper down, and in the reflection you can see the way her eyes follow the movement of her hands, watching as more of your skin is exposed. You sigh blissfully as your back is exposed to the cool air of the room, a balm against your heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning ever so slightly to look Rahu in the eyes. 

“Will that be all?” she asks, her voice noticeably rougher, deeper. It makes goosebumps break over your bare skin. 

“I don’t know,” you counter, taking the smallest step closer. The upper half of your dress is still bunched in your arms, giving her a sinfully clear view of the curve of your chest, helpfully uncovered by the fact that you chose to forgo a bra tonight. And your panties, but Rahu would only find that out later. Hopefully. “Do you want it to be?”

She blinks, and you see her throat bob as she swallows. “I— I don’t—“

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Rahu,” you whisper, your voice taking on an almost desperate edge. You lean up, close enough that only a few more inches would have your lips brushing the snarling face of her mask. “I want you. Do you want me?”

Rahu makes a sound between a growl and a whine and your blood sings. Her eyes were blown wide, silver nearly eclipsed by the blackness of her pupils. “If— if that is what you desire—“

You shake your head, taking one of Rahu’s hands in yours in an oddly intimate gesture that seemed a little out of place in the moment’s tense atmosphere. “Tell me what you want, Rahu.”

“I…” her words are strained, and briefly, you think she might step away. That the loyalty that keeps her by your side would be the same thing that drags her away from you tonight. But then her hand in yours squeezes gently, and her silver gaze burns with resolve. “I… want this. You.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, an aching relief flooding through your body. A smile grows on your lips as your other hand finally releases your grip on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to slip off your body and collect like a silken pool at your feet. Rahu’s eyes flick down immediately to your exposed chest, and you laugh softly. 

“Like what you see?” you tease, free hand now daintily tracing the edges of Rahu’s mask. Your finger hooks in the clasp of her mask, tugging ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you take this off and have a taste?” 

Within seconds, she’s ripped the offending accessory off, letting it clatter onto the floor carelessly. And then with a forwardness you weren’t expecting, Rahu crashes her lips against yours in a bruising, breathtaking kiss, her large hand shooting out to grab at your waist, pulling you closer and squeezing. The pressure makes you gasp into the kiss, and Rahu seizes the opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth. 

Pressed so close to her like this, you become aware of something nudging against your thigh. You shift your hips, subtly grinding against her front, and Rahu groans, breaking away from you, her lips kiss-swollen and her expression pinched in one of beautiful pleasure. A flush creeps up her skin, and you feel her twitch in her pants. 

“You’ve gotten so worked up already,” you hum, her embarrassment utterly adorable. Your hand trails lower, reaching for her belt. “Let me—“

But Rahu catches your wrist, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I want… you first.” 

“Oh.” Rahu’s thrown another curveball at you, but you don’t mind. Definitely not. You smile up at her, the thrill of seeing your tall, mysterious bodyguard now a flushed, hard mess just for you making the heat in your core feel almost unbearable. “Alright, then.” 

You lead her to the foot of your bed, then take a seat. Rahu looks a little puzzled, but then you spread your legs, and Rahu gets the message. She swallows, eyes now fixated on your pussy, the slightest glossy sheen coating the inner lips. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, until her face is level with your hips, and you card your fingers through her long, dark hair. The sight of Rahu staring up at you from between your legs, silver eyes swirling with barely restrained hunger, makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Can I?” she asks, her hands coming to rest on your knees. Her warm breath against your wetness makes you sigh contentedly. “I want to…”

“You can, Rahu,” you encourage gently, applying the slightest pressure to the back of her skull. With your permission, Rahu dives in, licking a long stripe from your fluttering cunt up to your clit. The action pulls a low moan from you, your fingers tightening reflexively in her hair. Rahu repeats the movements a few times, before focusing her attention on your hole, prodding her tongue inside in a way that has you throwing one leg over her shoulder to pull her in closer. As you watch her eagerly lap at your pussy, you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you, barely audible over the squelching noises of her devouring you. 

“You—mhm—look so good like this, Rahu,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching at her scalp. “Like a—ah—cute little puppy.” 

The words make Rahu whine against you, and you see her hips buck against the floor. Rahu’s eyes are screwed shut, the grip she has on your thighs almost bruising as a full-body shudder wracks through her. You laugh properly this time, very pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh, did you like that?” you croon at her, petting her head like you would a dog. “Do you like it when I call you puppy? My puppy?” 

“Fuck,” Rahu hisses into your pussy, strained and hoarse. One hand releases your thigh to fumble with her belt, desperate to free what must be her painfully hard cock right now. 

“Focus, puppy,” you whisper, tugging her hair a little forcefully, pushing her face back where you need her to be. “You said you wanted me first, right?”

Rahu makes a strangled noise, but resumes what she was doing before, though with a touch more desperation this time around. Her tongue plunges in and out of your gushing hole, smearing the lower half of her face in slick. One particular thrust has her nose brushing your clit at the same time her tongue drives deep into you, and you moan loudly, your heel digging into her clothed back. 

“Just like that, puppy,” you praise, feeling your first orgasm of the night tightening in your belly. “Just a little bit more, being such a good puppy for me right now.”

Rahu’s hips start bucking against the floor again as she feels more wetness collect on her tongue. She continues to eat you out relentlessly despite the growing burn in her jaw, the sound of your pitched moans and whines sounding like heaven to her ears. With one final expert stroke of her tongue she tips you off the edge, and you throw your head back in a long, drawn out moan, your fingers fisting as tightly as possible in Rahu’s hair, the sting painfully pleasurable. You gush into her mouth, the sweet taste of you spilling into Rahu’s hungry, waiting mouth. She gives a few more light licks to your twitching hole before pulling back, her breath heavy, face almost shining in the low light in the room. 

You release your grip on Rahu’s hair and sigh happily, smiling indulgently down at the Sinner on her knees. “You’re so messy, puppy,” you say softly, cupping her face and swiping your thumb across her lips. “But you did so well for me, so I should reward you, right?”

“Please,” Rahu breathes out, her voice brittle. You lean down and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her lips. 

“On your feet, puppy,” you whisper into the kiss. Rahu rises shakily, standing to her full height. From where you sit on the bed, you’re now face to face with her crotch—where a very sizable tent pokes against her pants. You admire the clothed size of it for a second, then grip her toned thighs, tugging her close enough that she’s only inches away from your mouth. Rahu makes a choked noise, her hands flying to your head, a beautiful red flush settling on her cheeks. 

“Shirt off,” you order quietly. Reluctantly, Rahu releases your hair, her hands rising up to fumble with the buttons of her shirt and tie, practically ripping her clothes off in her haste until she’s completely bare. You admire her full breasts and the hard contours of her abs, your eyes tracing over each scar that criss-cross her body, some paler than others. Gently, you lean up to press a kiss against a newer one, and feel her stiffen against your touch. “Relax, puppy. I’m getting there…”

Ever so slowly you move lower, until your nose is pressed against her navel. Your hands deftly unbuckle her belt, and you let it fall to the floor along with her slacks. You laugh at the wet patch on the front of her boxers, teasingly kissing the clothed tip, just enough to get Rahu groaning. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband and pull, finally setting Rahu’s aching, weeping cock free. 

It’s pretty, you think. Just like Rahu herself. She’s definitely not the thickest, but she certainly makes up for it in sheer length, the reddish tip curved ever so slightly. Rahu watches as you stare appreciatively at her cock, her nerves feeling frayed by desire. 

“Please…” she begs, ever so slightly rolling her hips forward, so that her cockhead bumps against your cheek. “I want— I need—“

“Shh, don’t worry, puppy,” you say soothingly, languidly wrapping your hand around her length and delighting in the way she sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ll take good care of you. Just tell me what you want, okay?” 

“Want you,” she chokes out brokenly, “y-your mouth.” 

“Good puppy,” you say with a smile, then start taking her into your mouth. Rahu swears as she feels your tongue swirl around the tip, lapping at the precum smeared on it from before. Your eyes briefly roll back into your head as the taste of her blooms on your tongue, a taste so distinctly Rahu you feel your own wetness gathering between your thighs again. You keep going, taking more and more of her into your mouth, until you feel her bump the back of your throat. You open your eyes again, and make sure to make direct eye contact with her as you draw back, all the way until you let go of her tip with a pop. Rahu whines, her hand fisting in your hair, her chest heaving at her own strained breaths. 

“Eyes on me, puppy,” you order lightheartedly before swallowing her, but this time your hand pumps whatever remaining length doesn’t fit in your mouth. Rahu grips your hair tightly, needing all her willpower to hold her back from fucking your face. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue against her cock, your hand sometimes wandering down to toy with her balls. Rahu pants above you, eyes almost watering at how fucking good you were sucking her off. But she keeps focused on you, like the good puppy she is. 

And so you get to see fully the way her eyes disappear into her skull when you take all of her into your mouth, letting her fat cockhead bully its way down your throat. Your throat spasms, unused to the intrusion, and you breathe in harshly through your nose to quell the mildly uncomfortable sensation, because the expression on Rahu’s face right now was something absolutely worth it. Only then do you start sucking her off in earnest, bobbing up and down on her cock. The wet sounds echo throughout the room, as you devour her with as much intensity as she did you a few minutes ago. 

“I’m— I’m going to—“ Rahu croaks out, her hips jerking forward as her legs feel unsteady beneath her. You blindly reach for her other hand, and bring it to your face. You look up at her, and hope she gets the message. 

Use me. 

Rahu’s pupils blow wide, and you feel her twitch in your mouth. Hesitance peeks out through the fog of lust, and you whine pitifully at her. You’d beg, but you’re too busy keeping her cock in your mouth. Rahu swallows, and you see her lust win as her gaze takes a dangerous edge to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. Her other hand winds in your hair, and she pulls back slowly, almost slipping out completely before ramming her way back in, making you choke. 

Her pace is brutal as she chases her high, going balls deep with each sharp drive of her hips. Tears burn the corner of your eyes but you love it, the way she uses your mouth like it’s her own personal cocksleeve. Rahu hunches over as her orgasm creeps up on her, groaning each time she bottoms out in your throat. Her thrusts start to get erratic as she gets closer and closer until—

“Fuck, c-cumming!” she whines, planting herself as deep as she can go and pressing you against her crotch. You gag as her warm cum fills your throat like a torrent, your fingers clawing at her thighs as you breathe in through your nose. You don’t know how long Rahu keeps cumming for but she cums a lot, and you try to swallow all of it but some of it escapes the seal of your lips around her cock, dribbling creamy white down your chin. She pulls you off her with a pop, moaning at the sight of her cum smeared on your face. Her cock is still hard, resting on your cheek. 

Your tongue darts out to cheekily lick a stripe up the side and Rahu jerks from the oversensitivity. 

“Seems like you still want more, puppy,” you tease, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. Languidly, you spread your legs, showing off your dripping pussy that had only gotten wetter when she fucked your face. You run a finger through your soaked folds and shudder, parting them so Rahu can get a good look at your painfully empty hole as it clenches around nothing. “You want to fuck this one too?” 

Rahu growls, crawling on top of you and pinning your wrists to the bed. She shuts you up with a kiss, which turns into a moan as her cock catches on your hole. It has you sighing in pleasure too, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin at the idea of Rahu filling you up with that gorgeous cock of hers. 

“C’mon puppy, you can put it in,” you encourage, rolling your hips against hers. You lean up, your teeth grazing her earlobe as you wrap your arms around her broad, muscled back. “Fill me up, make me yours. Take what you want.”

“Mine,” she rasps out, dragging her own teeth against the column of your neck. She lines her hips up against yours once, twice, before sinking in, her fat tip breaching your tight hole. Rahu snarls against your neck in pleasure as you throw your head back and moan, eyelids fluttering at the sensation of being filled. Inch by inch more of Rahu’s cock fills your needy pussy until her balls kiss your ass, and you can feel her pressed against your cervix. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big, puppy,” you pant, your voice shaky. “Fill me up s-so good.”

“You’re so tight,” she grits out, slowly drawing back. If fucking your mouth was heaven, then fucking your drooling cunt would definitely be ascending to divinity. When she thrusts back in she goes all the way to the hilt again, forcing a cry from your lips. The neighbors would probably file a noise complaint tomorrow, but Rahu can’t bring herself to care about them when she’s balls deep in the best pussy she’s ever had. 

Her pace is hard and deep, and you almost go cross eyed with each thrust. Her length allows her to reach places no one had ever reached before, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds just that right spot that has you creaming on her cock. And when she finally does you swear, nails clawing down her back as the coil in your belly gets impossibly tight. 

“Right there, puppy, right there— just like that,” you babble, and Rahu angles her hips just right to hit it every single goddamn time. Your cunt clenches on Rahu’s dick like it’s your lifeline, and Rahu feels her own climax build up again embarrassingly quickly. She pounds into you relentlessly, your wetness from earlier splashing out onto the sheets and against her thighs. 

“Gonna cum, puppy,” you whimper between moans, locking your legs around Rahu’s lower back to draw her in deeper. “Cum with me.” 

Rahu’s pace falters, becoming less rhythmic but her aim is still mind-numbingly accurate. She whines into your neck as she feels the pressure in her loins build and build and then you deliberately tighten your core and squeeze around her and she’s gone. Rahu bites down into your shoulder as she cums, hilting as deep as she can go, pressing harshly against that spot in your pussy that has you creaming all over her cock too. 

Your walls pulse around her as she spills warm, thick cum into your cunt, as if milking her for all she’s worth. Her hips stutter from overstimulation, her brain feeling like it’s turning into mush, but she’d rather endure this forever than pull out. You feel her cum fill every inch of your cunt, some of it spilling out due to the sheer amount and dripping down your ass. You can’t even hear your own screams of pleasure, entirely consumed by the force of your orgasm. 

When you finally come to again, Rahu is hunched over you, but her hips don’t stop. Her thrusts are jerky and uneven, cock still spilling into your cunt, but she seems too far gone to even think to stop. She bullies her way deeper into you, as if wanting to get all the way past your cervix to dump her cum right into your womb. You writhe beneath her, overstimulation setting your nerve endings on fire. You can feel your mind slipping slowly, but you retain enough semblance of coherent thought to try and push Rahu off, not for her to stop completely but just to slow down.

“R-Rahu, puppy, slow down,” you whine, tears prickling at your eyes as Rahu keeps targeting that spot inside of you. “‘s too much!” 

Rahu growls at that, her silver eyes taking on a feral edge as they glare into your teary ones. She pulls out swiftly and you sigh at the reprieve, only to be manhandled onto your front in an instant. Rahu flips you like you weigh nothing—and to her, you might as well have. You barely have time to process what she’s doing before she’s tugging your hips up, lining her cock with your pussy and sinking balls deep into you again. Your back arches and your lips part in a silent scream as Rahu resumes her brutal pace, rutting into you like some sort of wild animal. 

“I’m taking what I want,” she says roughly, echoing your previous words, leaning down to snarl them against the shell of your ear. Her teeth graze your neck and you sob, cunt clenching and fluttering as your mixed cum is forced out and drips onto the sheets below. One of Rahu’s hands grips your hip tight enough to bruise, while the other slips lower to toy with your clit. The assault of her fingers on the sensitive nub is far too much for you, combined with the way her cock is consistently hitting that perfect spot. The coil in your belly is wound tight, way too tight. 

“Rahu, wait, I’m gonna—” you choke out between moans, trying to warn her, only for the hand on your hip to move to your neck and tug you upwards so that you’re on your knees as Rahu slams her cock into you. The new angle pulls another strangled sob from you as her fingers work relentlessly at your clit. Your hips twitch uncontrollably, not knowing if you want to run from the pleasure or to it. “Rahu, please, please, please—”

The hand around your neck squeezes, her teeth ghosting the previous bite on your shoulder as she briefly cuts off your oxygen and the coil snaps, furiously. With a wail, you squirt all over the sheets, turning them a shade darker. Streams of it spill from your pussy as you go utterly brainless on Rahu’s cock, still thrusting away. You don’t get a warning, or perhaps you simply couldn’t sense anything beyond the bone-deep pleasure pulsing through every fiber of your being, but Rahu cums too, hilting as deep as she can go and dumping another load into your used cunt, her teeth sinking deep into your shoulder.

Her hips stutter as she rides out her orgasm, fucking her cum deeper into your womb. You’re practically boneless in her grasp, head lolled listlessly onto her shoulder, eyes half lidded as your pussy spasms with the aftershocks. When Rahu finally goes still, she releases her hold on your neck and the arm around your waist, and you tip forward onto the ruined sheets, utterly exhausted. Rahu, still buried inside you, follows, slumping over you as she pants into your shoulder.

After a minute (or ten, you aren’t quite sure, since Rahu had seemingly fucked the concept of time out of you), you gather enough braincells to speak a proper sentence.  

“You were really pent up, weren’t you?” you tease, a little breathlessly, turning your head to look at her. Her gaze is softer somehow, and definitely more relaxed. Rahu hums instead of answering, eyes flicking down to your lips. Gently, almost affectionately, she leans in and kisses you, lazily swiping her tongue along your lip. You can taste yourself on her, and a shiver runs through you. When you pull away, you can’t help but smirk a little, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Also… puppy, huh?”

Rahu’s eyes widen and then she groans, but you don’t miss the way her cock twitches inside of you. She buries her face against the damp skin of your back and you giggle at her embarrassment. “Shut up,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around your waist and squeezing you. You can’t see her face from this angle, but the tips of her ears are a stunning shade of red. “We should… get cleaned up.” 

As much as you’d like to continue teasing her, Rahu was right. The state of your body and your sheets was definitely less than sanitary at the moment. Slowly, Rahu started to pull out. You wince as your oversensitive walls spasm, and Rahu presses soft kisses against your back in apology. She slips out with a squelch, and you sigh, suddenly feeling too empty. Rahu helps you sit up, and you shudder at the feeling of her cum and yours starting to dribble out of your pussy. Rahu sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, but thankfully, she doesn’t get hard again. As much as you enjoyed it, you don’t think your pussy could take another pounding from her.

Well. Not yet, at least.

(You end up showering with Rahu, to ‘save on your water bill’. Suffice to say, actually getting clean turned out to be a secondary objective. But neither you nor Rahu really seemed to care, so all’s well that ends well, right?) 

[wayfayrr]

By your side from day one <3

finally set aside some time to finish off wilds turn for being self aware, the smartest one who found a way to get out without breaking your tv and getting the glass shards of screen everywhere. I'll be back on requests and such soon though!! <3

[masterlist]

“Come on [name], you can’t be serious about missing out on plans just to talk to someone you don’t even know is real.”

“You say like I would want to go clubbing tonight either way, besides he’s said he’s just been working up the courage to video call.”

“And you trust that?”

They’ve got enough of a conscious to look a bit ashamed when I look at them, I know they’re worried for me but of all the things to be so worked up about this seems harmless. 

“What if I told you that he was messaging me and telling me to stop talking to you.”

“Can you show me the proof.”

“Well… no. he deleted them immediately afterwards.”

Are they just jealous? This is so unlike them that it’s offputting. I know they can get a little worked up when I get close to other people but accusing my online friend - accusing wild - of threatening them? It’s petty and childish. Are they afraid I’ll replace them or something? 

“Okay, alright. This isn’t going to make me cut him off you know?”

“[name]...”

“Reach out when you don’t feel like senselessly trying to cut me off from others. I’ll see you around.”

Hopefully, it’s sooner rather than later, but if they don’t? It’s their own fault they thought they would need to sabotage my other relationships to get closer to me. They even have the audacity to call out after me as I’m leaving, still trying to warn me about him, like they can’t accept I would dare get close to anyone else. Not like it doesn’t feel awful potentially losing a friend like this, but what can I really do?

The trip home seems to pass in a blur, until I’m already collapsed onto my couch with a familiar notif going off on my phone. Opening it proves it is exactly what I expected it to be, a message from him, asking me how my day has gone showing me more care than nearly every other person in my life ever has. Not expecting me to drop everything on a dime for him, even if recently he’s been getting more possessive in his messages like he wants to be serious when I’ve never seen his face. 

- I’ve been decent, met up with a friend. Not much really, you? - 

- Had to do chores for someone I don’t like >:( wanna get away from everything tbh - 

- why not just up and leave? - 

- I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been planning something - 

Seems like the possessive streak has worn off now then, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning friends again. There isn’t even a reason he should be possessive of me though, unless he’s got a secret crush or something. Which I hope he doesn’t, he’s been speaking to me for barely a couple of weeks. 

- You free to call tonight? It’s been a while. - 

- I’m good rn if you are. I’ll just grab my headphones - one sec - 

- :DD perf perf - 

Honestly a call will be nice, I can just zone out for a bit, play some games and chat. It’s the perfect way to destress after everything that happened earlier, I still can’t believe they threw away our friendship over something so small. Maybe I should just block their number and drop them even if they do try and apologise, I don’t really need people like that in my life. 

“So then love, any plans for tonight?”

“I thought you said you were gonna drop calling me that?”

“It’s silly and you didn’t answer my question anyway.”

“Nah not really. I’m just loading up breath of the wild, been a bit since I’ve -”

“Oh shit.”

Has wild been link this whole time, wait - how did he get access to the internet, HOW IS HE SENTIENT?  

He’s just sitting in his hateno house, holding the sheikah slate like a phone and silently, through the switch anyway, talking. The look of horror on his face is gut-wrenching though.

“You - you…”

“Oh - uh - I mean. Come on love it’s not that bad is it? I - I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t think I want to deal with this right now… I’m sorry I just.”

The look of horror and shame shifted terrifyingly fast when he noticed me moving to turn off the switch, replacing itself with fear and anger before he steeled himself, and presses his hand against the slate’s screen?

…

He - he’s reached through my phone to grab onto my wrist. 

“No, don’t turn me off, I can’t go back to being just a voice. Please”

“How… how are you DOING THIS?”

“That… Isn’t what matters right now.”

His grip feels so nervous, he looks it too - which makes sense, I would probably be petrified if I lost my body just because I was trapped in a game. I can’t turn him off that would be cruel… he deserves better than that. 

It instantly lightened as I moved to sit back down, a sigh of relief echoing through both my tv speakers and my phone, as he let go the second I sat with his hand retreating through my unbroken phone. 

“Okay, you promise you won’t try to turn me off?”

“I won’t if you’ll explain.”

“That - that’s fair, I can do that for you love and - if I told you that I think I’ve figured out a way to get out? Would you let me live with you?”

“So that’s why you were so forward abou- yes you can. When you’ve explained everything. And made it certain you’re not planning to kill me because you’re scared of me sending you back.”

The reverb’s stopped now, which makes talking a lot more pleasant and less like he’s trying to intimidate me now, not that I blame him for it if I was about to condemn him back to that hellscape. I just, I really hope he isn’t trying to get out just to kill me, I don’t think I would ever be able to get over my childhood crush wanting to kill me even if he has every right to want that.

“What- No no I don’t - why - why would you think I would ever want to even hurt you let alone KILL. I - love I. I love you. That’s why I’m doing all of this - I - I.”

He’s crying. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything like that - it’s within his right to - but he’s link, he’s the hero, the protagonist who was stuck to my side through it all. I know I shouldn’t have said that it wasn’t meant to be cruel but it was careless enough to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry, I came on to strong, you - you have every right to be scared of me. I promise though love I - I will never hurt you ever.”

“I know… I just panicked. You can explain now I won’t overreact again I swear. Or if you’d prefer -”

“If I would prefer..?”

“Why not get out first, then explain?”

Lighting up a firework in my face would have been less blinding than his smile in that moment, it’s such a sweet smile - a genuine one too. Meaning that I said the right thing, that I’m doing the right thing by giving him this chance. 

Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

“Really? You’ll let me do that?”

“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be easier to talk to you as well. Just - how are you going to go this?”

“Um, oh, well uh, I think I could possibly make your switch into a mock version of a warp medallion? Then link my slate to it and just well”

“That makes sense, you can go ahead then, shouldn’t take long right?”

“No, no it won’t.”

A couple of seconds was all the wait it needed for him to stumble out of the blue lights and right onto me, clearly disorientated by the shift into reality. Probably not as bad as any of the 2d links would have struggled to be fair to him. It was an even shorter wait for him to jump onto me and cling even tighter than a koala could ever hope to, nuzzling up against my neck like it’s the only - because - it’s the only real touch he’s ever felt. 

“So you want to explain then?”

“Could we wait? That took much more effort than I thought. I just want to rest a bit if that’s alright.”

“As soon as you’re rested enough to. You going to sleep for a bit then?”

“No I still want to talk, just about something less taxing?”

Seems like he’s more dodging the topic than anything, which is fine I can get him to talk about it later, there really isn’t a rush for anything. It’s fine. Besides he’s like an excited kid that’s staying up way past his bedtime right now, where’s the harm in staying like this for a bit?

“Mind if I ask why you’re so determined to call me ‘love’ then?” 

“Because you’re everything to me, my light, my love, my life - you’ve been with me through everything. From when I woke to killing ganon and you didn’t abandon me there. You’ve shown me your favourite cities, stuck with me when you had the choice to choose others because you said I am you favourite, so really? How could I not love you?”

“You were aware even in Mariokart?” 

His giggle is sweet, he’s so charming right now, especially with how unaware of it he is. It’s so earnest and unfiltered, just so raw, I could go the rest of my life with that being the only thing I ever hear again. Compared to how he acted in cutscenes as well? He’s happy. Tired but happy.

“Oh before I forget, You should be expecting a delivery actually!”

“What.”

“I’ve been wanting to get out of the game for a while so I ordered some things to try make myself more appealing to you.”

“Like what? Link you didn't need to do anything like that.”

He just shrugged, seems like I won’t be getting an answer to that till whatever arrives whenever it does. Seems he really wasn’t lying about being tired though, he’s already starting to fall asleep laying against me like this. Thankfully he’s light enough to move to a more comfortable position, although theres nothing I can do about how tightly he’s holding me and truthfully? There’s nothing I want to do about it.

“Y’know I think I could get used to this.”

“Yo’ will I pr’mise, I’ll make you addicted to m’.”

“Well that isn’t ominous at all… and you’re already asleep.” 

[myslutwritings]

Hi there! How are you doing?:) I've loved your writings and I'm so happy that you mentioned that you're comfortable with writing for self harm as I'm never sure if I shall request such topics or not. :(

I'd like to request sfw headcanons for Muzan and Douma when they discover that reader has got many self harm-scars(cutting)? How would they react and what would they say? I don't really care if reader is AFAB or GN but I'd say to make it GN so more people can enjoy your writing!!:)

Thank you and take your time!<3

Aw, thank you so much. I’m happy to know you are fond of my writings! thank you again for requesting.

➤ Muzan and Douma with a S/O who has self harm scars

➤ SFW headcanons

Muzan & Douma x GN!reader

•

•

•

warnings: self harm

Muzan Kibutsuji 🩸

Muzan wouldn’t know how to react at first.

He’s never dealt with anything like this before.

I mean, Muzan is in fact familiar with the concept of self harm.

He’s just never witnessed it first hand, you know?

Is in shock at first. You can’t tell because he often wears his calm expression. But he’s panicking on the inside.

Muzan is absolutely distraught to discover the scars aligned your wrists. (Fresh or old it still counts)

Then again, he honestly doesn’t know how to help at first so he asks if there is anything he can do to make you feel better.

If you don’t want to talk about it yet he will try his best to understand and not be so pushy. gives you the space you desire because he would hate to make you uncomfortable.

Doesn’t mean to be pushy about it but he’s only like that because he cares.

However, do not just expect him to drop the whole thing! Muzan wants to know everything still. he isn’t going to let this slide.

How long have you been self harming and what compelled you to commit such harmful acts upon yourself?

Is curious and wants to know everything on your mind. even if it secretly hurts him to witness you in so much pain.

He hates the fact that your beautiful skin has been damaged.

Holds you in his arms all while comforting you properly.

This is the first time you’ve seen Muzan this affectionate.

After the two of you have a heart to heart conversation about this he will force you to throw all away your blades

If your refuse he will do it for you.

Muzan is angry, not at you, just by your choices. He knows you can’t help it and that it was a former addiction but he just can’t control it.

He’s also angry with himself for not finding out sooner.

After he finds out you self harm you bet he’s going to become even more protective and keep an eye on you.

If anyone dares to upset you or point out your scars he’ll just kill them right on the spot. Even if it’s one of his uppermoons.

“My dearest, please do not ever do this to yourself again. You know that i’ll always be here for you, don’t you?”

Douma ❄️

It takes Douma awhile to find out.

Mostly because he’s so busy running the cult. His lack of emotion doesn’t make it any better either.

However, with you he feels things! Doesn’t give a fuck about his naive little followers and his duties.

Still dedicates his time to you! Whenever he is bored or not doing anything he will check up on you.

He found out while the two of you were having a cuddling session.

Douma is aware that people self harm but like Muzan he never witnessed it.

Is horrified his S/O would do such a thing.

Doesn’t understand.

He knows it won’t make it any better if he throws a conniption fit so he settles down and communicates with you about it.

He still doesn’t fully understand but do not let that mistake you for him not caring. Douma cares SO much. you may just need to explain everything to him in greater detail.

Oddly is fast at understanding? Because he feels emotions around you it makes things easier.

It breaks his heart to know his S/O would have such thoughts and hurt themselves because of it.

Douma and you throw away your blades together.

And from that moment onwards he’s never letting you out of his sight or giving you any privacy. Not even to use the restroom.

You’re sleeping with him, attending his meetings with his pitiful followers, bathing with him, etc.

Ditches his basics duties for the sake of his beloved S/O.

Douma takes care of you pretty damn well. just his only red flag is the lack of privacy.

Doesn’t give you privacy until you promise him you aren’t going to relapse again.

He just wants to look out for you and protect you from harms way:(

Mentally checks up on you everyday, asks how you’re feeling? etc!

Doesn’t care for other peoples problems in the slightest, he isn’t even listening to his followers, but with you he does as you vent to him about anything that’s on your mind.

Cradles you in his lap whenever you’re upset and gives you all the attention you need!

He loves you fiercely and doesn’t want to lose you.

Reminds you that he’s here for you and that self harming is not the answer. Honestly gives you great and genuine advice.

“My lotus, do you know how upset i would be if i lost you? Please never do such things to yourself ever again!”

A/N: If any of you out there are struggling right now i promise it gets better! As someone who used to self harm frequently who is now almost a year clean i can assure you it gets better over time. You matter and you are loved! <3

I promise i’m getting to everyone’s requests! Feel free to keep sending them in. It may take me time but i’ll make sure to do everyone’s requests in my inbox. Thank you for the overwhelming support. I appreciate you all so very much.

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

hii, i was wondering if you could make a art x reader? i would prefer headcanons but anything is fine!! no rush btw <3

Art the Clown x f!reader 

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: Okay, so I technically will be doing a “What it’s like to date Art the Clown” chapter, but this will sort of be in a similar format, if that makes sense. I hope that you enjoy this!! Sorry for the super long wait, I was digging through my asks and saw this one for the first time and I was like “I should do this” 😂

Also, there wasn’t any specification on if you wanted anything smutty as well, so I just kept this one fluffy! 

<>~<>~<>

You met super unconventionally. It was dark out, you were walking home late, and you were wearing a sparkly dress and pretty heels. You were perfect bait for the clown. He assumed that you were leaving a club, a party, etc., but what he hadn’t expected was for you to be so aware of your surroundings. You had heard him, then you saw him, then you fucking bolted. 

Art was so surprised to see the way you ran in the heels that he almost forgot to chase you. 

Almost. 

By time he had caught you, he thought you’d give up. Instead, he got whammed in the head by a loose brick you saw on the ground. His vision went blurry, but he watched you take the heels off quickly before running again. This time you seemed faster than before. For once, he gave up and looked at the sky through blurred vision and let you go.

A day went by, then a week, then a month, before he saw you again. A similar circumstance, but this time you were a bit more disorientated. You wore flats, had a wristlet-purse on, and jeans this time. You were grasping the wall for support, but you were alone. He watched you for a minute, slowly following behind the bushes across the street, remembering before when you had gotten away. 

Did he hold a grudge? Sort of, but he wanted you. To kill? He was unsure. This was the very first time Art had ever seen a pretty girl walking alone and not immediately gotten the urge to stab until she was dead. He waited a minute, trying to decide what to do with his strange emotions, when he realized that the two of you were at the same spot where you had hit him over the head. Truth be told, the rest of that night was slightly blurry for him, and not just because his vision went wonky. 

He was angry, but there was more inside of him than that. Curiosity, a dreaded sense of interest. Nobody had ever gotten away like you had. He wanted to know more about you. he needed to know more about you. 

You were much more coherent the night before. Tonight you were wobbling on your feet. Part of you thought about going back, but you were already more than halfway home. By time you made it to the spot that you had hit that clown over the head, you were too far gone to turn back. Through your still drunken state, you continued to head in the direction of your apartment, holding onto the wall for support. 

That’s when you heard a second set of footsteps right behind you splash in the water. By time you turned around, it was too late. 

He held you in captivity with him for awhile. Occasionally bringing you back an eyeball or a dead mouse as a gift. Sort of like a cat. You would groan in disgust and scoot back against the wall while he sat cross-legged across from you and sent you a deranged smile while he waited for you to take his gift. When you eventually didn’t, Art would move on. 

Slowly, you started to warm up to the strange clown. Never once did he hurt you. Only did he stand or sit there and watch you. It was creepy, sure, but you had a lot to be thankful for. Eventually Art let you out of the chains and showed you around his little workshop-makeshift sleeping area. Did he ever actually sleep? You weren’t sure. 

Time went by fast with Art. Sooner than you thought, you started to actually like the clown. What came after that, you were certain your younger self would have been afraid of and disgusted by. 

Months went by. Eventually you were free to wander the barred up building while he was out. Of course the door was locked from the outside, but truth be told, you were fine staying around here. He started to bring you actual food instead of just scraps he probably found in the dumpster. 

And then, one day, he just left the door unlocked. A test, maybe? You were almost disgusted with yourself, but when the door creaked open when you tried it (mostly out of old habit), you hesitated. Then, you shut the door and went back to the bed you slept on and went to sleep. When Art came back, you could tell he was surprised. 

After that, the rest was history. 

The little gifts Art brought you back started to be less weird. Instead of body parts, dead mice, or metal scraps, he brought you back real food, a bracelet off a victim (shockingly without the arm attached), even a few books to pass the time. 

One day, instead of a wave goodbye, you kissed him on the cheek. You swore you might have seen a hint of embarrassment in his eyes before he turned to leave. 

Years went by quickly. One day Art returned you to your normal life, however he was quick to sneak into your apartment in the middle of the night and start resting with you. However, he trusted you. He allowed you to go back to work, to resume your life as it was before he kidnapped you. To see your friends again and go to bars, but this time the clown wouldn’t be the one stalking you to hurt you. He would follow you almost everywhere you went, watching, waiting for someone to try and hurt you so he could maim them. 

The longer you were with him, the better his gifts continued to get, until one day he brought you back a shiny diamond ring and told you that you could start wearing it (this wasn’t a request). 

Art understands that everybody can’t know who you belong to, but he wants to make sure everybody knows that you belong to someone. 

He doesn’t care how hard this is to explain to your friends. If he sees you without the ring, he finds it and he puts it back on you. 

There’s no reason to fight with him about anything. Art always gets his way in the end. 

Surprisingly, Art really likes dogs and insists on you getting a puppy, even if you’re the one that will have to do all of the training. Art really wants a dog and he shows you which kind to get. However, if you bring home a different type of dog, he would accept that as well. 

Sometimes when Art is sitting beside you, dressed in normal clothes without his clown makeup on, and he has his arm around you and the other resting on the dog, you feel almost normal. 

You never end up actually getting married. The ring is symbolism enough to the both of you. 

When he’s with you, Art slows down on the killing. Mostly because in order to cause midnight chaos, he has to be away from you. And sometimes all he really wants is to hold you while you’re sleeping. 

He’s not entirely sure how you got to him the way you did, but he can’t say he complains. In a way, you hope that maybe Art will one day stop it all together. That he might end up being a normal husband-like-boyfriend-demon-being-thing. 

At the end of the day, Art would choose you over murdering and you would choose him even if he continued with his old ways. 

He loves horror movies and he will always make you watch them with him. If you ever get scared, he’ll make fun of you a little bit, but he will also keep you close and kiss your head. Art likes to watch bloody, gory horror movies, but his favorite is Nightmare on Elm Street. 

He’s seen it over 75 times. 

He falls asleep during regular movies. 

Art is sort of like a guard dog. Every time that something goes bump in the night, even if he’s snoring louder than the devil, he bolts upright and insists on taking a look around. The dog usually goes with him. Because of this, new environments are harder for him to get used to. 

He is like a bottomless pit. Art eats a lot of food. 

Art is terrible at any form of game. He gets annoyed and swats his hand at the air and starts pouting when it gets too hard. Video game, board game, verbal game— it doesn’t matter. He sucks at all of them and 9 times out of 10 will refuse to play. 

He teaches you sign language because he can’t/doesn’t speak. You think it’s funny how he overdoes everything he does when he mime’s it since he can’t talk. 

He loves it when you play along with his miming. Sometimes he pretends that he’s stuck in a box and he likes it when you pretend like you can’t get to him. 

Overall, Art is a shockingly supportive partner. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll ask if he needs to kill someone. He’s a great listener as well. He’ll sit there and hold you and rub your arm while you explain everything that happened. He’s more than willing to sit there for the whole night with you if it would truly help. 

You’re stuck with him for the rest of your life. You can’t ever leave Art. He won’t let you. 

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality. 

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions. 

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car. 

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second. 

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month. 

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you. 

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping. 

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make. 

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do. 

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready. 

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond. 

But they don’t. 

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you. 

It’s inevitable. 

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League. 

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League. 

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love. 

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult. 

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week. 

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except you hear from him every day. 

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family. 

I won’t change for you. 

You never asked him to. 

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now. 

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen. 

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently. 

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend. 

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head. 

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me. 

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone. 

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy. 

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy. 

table of contents

[mosaickiwi]

Hi hi, if your requests are still open, could you do [REDACTED] becoming self aware and finding out that the player is super obsessed with him? From his pov cuz I wanna see the internal dialogue. Been meaning to write this myself, but alas, writer’s block 😞

obsessed angel is best angel hehehe >:3c

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Super Obsessed Angel~

The library was often slow in the morning, so you always put some extra time into helping whoever came in. You were getting a few books off the higher shelves for an elderly visitor. As you climbed down the ladder, a stack of novels held to your chest, you were completely unaware of the other visitor who’d been sneaking through the aisles since they arrived. [REDACTED]’s gaze was glued to you, lost in thought as he watched you go about your day.

Something about you had changed since he did away with the Ren persona, as if a certain switch had been flipped on in your brain. It was easy to connect the dots for them—you'd been so obvious about it. Or maybe years of watching you just made every little change easy to spot: you were utterly obsessed with them.

The first clue was a genuine shock for once. He'd dropped you off at your apartment after a date as he always did. You were well past nervous and shy the whole time, but it was to be expected since he wasn't “Ren” anymore. Under the dark mess of hair, black outfit, piercings and tattoos, he was a nervous wreck, too. Far more than normal to pick up the hints of what came next.

As soon as your door closed the dark-haired man pulled out their phone to admire you through the cameras placed in your home. He thought you'd surely wind down on your couch before bed like usual. Maybe even chat up a friend while catching up on your favorite anime.

Instead they were greeted with the sight of you still standing in the entry and typing away on your own phone. He quickly switched to watch your screen, eyes widening at the rapid barrage of texts you were sending to Moth. All gushing with joy about your date.

Of course he committed them all to memory immediately—and his eyes had widened at some of the more interesting things you'd typed before hastily erasing it for a slightly less unhinged message. But one in particular stood out.

“I don't think I can be normal about them.”

That was months ago, and each new thing you did only reminded him of it. He noticed everything and he loved it.

Your bright smiles as you leaned into their touch, their side, their embrace at any chance you got—they had his heart soaring. If only they had let you convince them to do away with “Ren” sooner. 

You even accepted the ring once thrown away all those years ago. Still on the necklace he’d worn to keep it close to his heart, but now a favored offering he would catch you playing with throughout the day while distracted by something or another.

It was everything he ever dreamed of. Of course, the quirks you picked up when you thought they weren’t looking were just as fascinating.

The way you always hastily tucked your phone away when he came back into a room was precious. As if they hadn't seen the photo of them you used as a wallpaper, least of all the dozens of other pictures you thought were safely hidden in the depths of your phone gallery. He had a picture to match each of yours in the thousands that filled his own devices.

Innocent calls in the middle of the night where you’d say you couldn't sleep just to hear their voice. He thought about teasing you and saying you could just record it, but then you wouldn't have an excuse—a blatant lie, he knew—to call. They always wanted to hear you just as much anyways, if not more. And even if you did figure out how to record it, he'd make sure the audio file somehow mysteriously disappeared.

He was almost certain of your obsession once you started taking clothes. Hoodies and jackets were obvious, especially since he intentionally left them out for you. That was more than enough to have him practically ecstatic. 

Until one morning after you spent the night he realized a few things were missing from his wash pile. A cursory glance through their security system’s recordings confirmed it. The items in question had been purposefully stolen from the middle of the basket so as not to arouse immediate suspicion, and squirreled away in your bag without their notice. He’d only left your side for a moment that day to pick up the takeout order at the door. You were starting to get careful. It made him all the more desperate in seeing what else you’d do.

The sound of a scanner beeping in the silence of the library brought him back to the present as you finished up with the elderly visitor. You politely bid them farewell before sitting back in your chair with a huff.

They couldn’t help but notice the hopeful glance you threw towards a spot on your desk that was obscured from their vision. No doubt the place where you always kept your phone during work. Your hand reached out of habit for the golden ring—his ring—dangling from your neck.

Were you thinking of him? It was only fair that he indulged you. He was thinking of you just the same. One text hurriedly tapped out on his cracked screen, and he was intoxicated by the love struck way your face lit up at the buzz of your phone mere seconds later.

Eventually he knew he'd have to come clean about spying on you. But he had a feeling you wouldn't complain too much. The obsession was finally mutual, after all.

[enhaheeseung]

Study - l. Heeseung

Warnings: smut, cursing, oral male receiving, hand job, cum eating, tiny bit of angst, all of this takes place in a library💀

Pt.1 continuation of “all dressed up.” I strongly suggest reading pt.1 but it’s not necessary

Masterlist

Word count 3,1k I think 💭 ❔

Note: Tumblr is still acting up on me, but I wanted to get this out sooner than later probably going to have to move to a new blog soon cause nothing I do is working :/ And the spacing is a bit weird, 75% unedited, so forgive me if it’s bad :( also not sure when I’ll be active again so… yeah, anyways I hope you all enjoy it and sorry for the delay.

You had just gotten out of school, and on your way home, you decided to stop at the library to study cause you didn’t want to be cooped up at home and hunched over your very poorly set up study desk in your room.

As you open the doors to your local library, the librarian greets you with a smile which you automatically return and begin to walk down the long aisles of bookshelves with several books resting on them.

You drag your finger along every one, counting to ten and then stopping when your finger lands on a hardcover. It was some random series you’d never heard of before, but the cover looked enticing, so you grabbed it from the shelf and made your way to the back corner of the library, hoping your favorite seat would be unoccupied.

You had planned to do some light reading before studying, and you couldn’t wait to sit down and cozy up on the soft seat near the window.

As soon as you turn the corner, your shoulders slump in dismay cause your very favorite seat was, in fact, taken.

You trudged to the table next to it, opting for the next best option. You sighed heavily and placed your backpack on the table in front of you, pulling out your materials.

You sigh loudly and sit down on the wooden chair.

Maybe you were overreacting, but you were really annoyed that your seat was taken. It had the best view of the outside and the best light for reading.

You huff out another sigh and look up from your book, taking a glance at the person who stole your precious seat.

It didn’t surprise you when you saw who sat in it. He wore big round framed glasses. His shirt was neat and perfectly tucked into the waistband of his grey slacks. He tapped his leg rather annoyingly while taking notes from the mound of books that sat atop his table.

And to set it all off, he kept pushing up the bridge of his glasses ever so often. You wonder how he managed to perfect the nerd image so well you had no idea people like that even existed until you laid eyes on him.

Of course, someone like him would hide out in the back of the library. Then again, if you had that hideous fashion sense, you really wouldn’t want to be seen either.

At least he’s self aware.

But that still didn’t make you any less agitated that he was in your spot.

He never once looked up from his book, only occasionally brushing his bangs away from his face so he could see properly. You could only see his lips pouted in concentration as his pencil jotted down more notes.

You hadn’t realized that you had been staring for quite a few minutes, judging his appearance and secretly cussing him out in your head cause he had taken your beloved window seat.

Heeseung was working hard for his upcoming exam.

He had just gotten out of school and came straight to the library to focus on his studies.

Usually, he sat near the front to study, but today specifically, he went towards the back so he could work in peace, knowing no one would distract him.

Until he noticed someone approaching in his peripheral, he felt a tinge of annoyance when said person sat down, and he couldn’t believe today, out of all days, someone just had to sit next to him.

He wasn’t used to it. It’s not that he hated the idea of sitting next to someone, but he just got used to being alone. Since he started going to school, he never had a seatmate. He figured it was because no one wanted to be around the “nerd” or “dork” At first, it was bothersome, but he quickly grew accustomed to it, but now that someone was finally sitting next to him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat.

But as long as whoever was sitting next to him didn’t make loud noises or disturb his peace, then he was okay with it.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the case.

He heard multiple loud huffs and deep sighs, causing him to lose focus. He tapped a rhythm with his foot out of habit somehow that always helped to regain his focus again.

Apparently not today, though, because after the sighs got lost in the chilly air of the library, he got this uncomfortable feeling that he was now being watched like in the corner of his eye, he could see someone looking at No, staring at him.

He again shifted uncomfortably and looked up to see who this weirdo was that couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves.

The instant he looked up, the air got knocked straight from his lungs, and all of a sudden, the last thing he was worried about was your loud sigh and longing stare.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but there was no way he could mistake you for anybody else, and he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

It was you, the girl from the Halloween party, the girl that gave him the best orgasm he’s ever had, the girl he couldn’t stop thinking of ever since the night he met you.

He could only thank the higher being out there that allowed you two to meet again.

You jumped slightly when the guy who had sat near the window made eye contact with you.

You cleared your throat and quickly looked away. You felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, that’s what you get for cursing him out in your head for the last five minutes.

He did nothing to deserve all the foul insults that you conjured up about him in your head. All he did was sit down in a public library where anyone could sit freely. It’s not like that seat was reserved for you, yet you acted like it was.

You looked down at the book you had picked up earlier, deciding to actually read instead of judging a random stranger for no reason.

It was titled popcorn.

Funny title for a book, you thought.

It’s a true story. Apparently, it’s about two strangers that met at a movie theater and ended up getting married after they accidentally conceived a child. It talked about the hardships of being young parents and working through differences ultimately for the betterment of their child, which led them to fall in love along the way.

You couldn’t even flip through the first page cause you felt a piercing gaze burning into the side of your skull. You glanced up occasionally, and he was still just literally staring at you.

It felt uncomfortable, and maybe this is what you deserve for staring at him first, perhaps this is gods way of telling you to mind your own business, and maybe it’s because when you looked up and met the stranger’s eyes for the second time, you realized that it was the guy from the Halloween party.

How could you not recognize him?

Well, stupid question, he looked so much different outside of his costume, almost unrecognizable, but you couldn’t forget those huge dark orbs that looked oh so precious when he begged for you to touch him.

It’d be a lie if you said you didn’t think once or twice about him after that night.

Which was surprising given the fact you never once thought about any of your past hookups after they left your bed.

But how could you not when he literally wore a maid costume and had the audacity to wear nothing underneath?

You think back to that night, remembering how his huge cock felt in your hands, how it twitched when you degraded him and how it throbbed when he released his warm milky cum down your thro-

With a tiny shake of your head, you turned away and focused back on your book.

But he couldn’t focus on anything anymore. You’d successfully ruined his study session within just a few seconds.

When you looked back down and practically ignored his existence, he couldn’t help the hurt he felt in his heart, but before he exaggerated too much. Maybe you just didn’t recognize him. Maybe now it was you that thought he was a weirdo for staring.

He kept blowing his bangs out of his face so you could make out his features better, trying to replicate how he looked that night. After all, he did wear his hair slicked back at the party.

The loud tapping of his pencil was a useless attempt to get you to look up from your book. He kept clearing his throat quietly and readjusting in his seat so you would notice him.

He even took his glasses off, trying to mirror his appearance that night.

It was only when he whined, more like moaned out of frustration, that you looked up at him and saw the pouty look on his face.

He bit his lip nervously, just like the night at the party when you pushed him back on the mattress before you gave him the hand job of his life.

That look alone was enough for you to close the book and stop everything that you were doing so you could focus on nothing but him.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

You chuckled when he looked to his left and right, searching to see if you were talking to someone else, and his eyes grew wide once he realized he was the only person around.

It felt like deja vu.

He sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat for the fifteenth time. Yes, he was counting. “H-hi,” he muttered, pushing his bangs away from his face one last time.

“What a coincidence” you got up from your chair and moved it right next to his getting as close to him as possible, and he visibly gulped at the proximity.

“Y-yeah,” he sat there stiff as a board, looking straight ahead.

“What brings you here?” You say, and it really did feel like the night at the party all over again.

“S-study” again with the stutter…

Gosh, he’s so adorable.

As elated as he was that you were finally paying attention to him, he might have gotten just a little bit too excited.

He reached over to the table not so discreetly and picked up his notepad to cover his quickly growing erection.

“Isn’t that a bit tiring?” You ask, moving the notepad back to the table and running your hand up the length of his thigh.

“Y-yes” he squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists at his sides.

“Want to take a break?” You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of his bulge straining against his pants.

“Uhh y-yeah, I mean yes.” He whispered without hesitation closing his eyes once more and releasing a deep sigh.

“You’re so cute when you stutter,” you lean in and whisper in his ear, nibbling gently on his pierced lobe.

He really did everything in his power not to moan, but when your hand traced the outline of his hard-on poking through his slacks, he couldn’t help it.

As soon as it slipped out, he felt embarrassment rush throughout his entire body. He felt so pathetic for being that turned on just from you calling him cute.

But in his defense, no one had ever called him that before.

“Even cuter when you moan” you took one look around, making sure the coast was clear before you started to unfasten the buckle on his belt.

“N-not here” His breath hitched as he weakly grabbed your wrist, almost pleading with you to stop.

“Why’s that cutie?” You asked, halting your movements on his belt.

He gulped. “Cause there’s p-people around” he looked at you with blown pupils and a hint of worry in them.

But you didn’t miss the desperation all over his features.

The deep breaths, the subtle lip bite, and the quiet whimpers that he let out let you know he wanted this right here, right now, just as bad as you did.

“Then what do you suggest? cause, judging by the looks of it” you looked down at his cock that twitched under the confines of his pants. “This can’t wait” you ran your hand over his tent.

You could visibly see the moment he let go of all his inhibitions. You couldn’t help but smirk at the effect you had on him.

You were right.

He couldn’t wait and he knew it. he needed this. He needed it so bad that when he took one look around and saw that no one was in the vicinity of you two, he nodded his head, giving you the green light to continue, just praying that he wouldn’t regret this decision later on.

And god, did he hate himself for being so easily persuaded by you. Just like that, you were once again making him throw all his morals straight out the window, but the worst part was that he didn’t even care, and he blamed his stupid virgin dick for that.

“Just be a good boy and keep quiet for me yeah?” You undid the button on his slacks, and he couldn’t help but get excited at the sound of you pulling down his zip.

With a final nod of his head, You didn’t waste any more time and began palming him over his Calvin Klein boxers.

As soon as you touched him, he let out a shaky breath, and you could have sworn you saw his whole body shiver.

You turned to the side placing kisses on his neck, licking and sucking wherever you could reach.

He brought a hand up to loosen his tie, and you’re not sure if he did it cause it was getting too tight or if he did it to give you more access to kiss him either way, you took that as an invitation to leave dark marks on his newly exposed flesh.

“Y-you never told me your n-name,” he said breathlessly. Even with as out of it as he already was, he couldn’t miss yet another opportunity to learn more about you.

When you removed your hand from inside his pants, he panicked, thinking he had said something wrong, but he was in no way ready for what you were about to do next. “S-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to offen-” you cut him off as you grabbed his cheeks in both your palms so you could bring him in for a kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes were blown wide open, and you had to wonder if he could be any cuter.

“I’m y/n.”

You answered your own question just moments later.

Yes, he could be cuter, way cuter, in fact, as he did his best to kiss you while you worked your hand up and down his length.

Although, in reality, he just had his mouth open while you did the rest, but how could you complain when it allowed you to swallow every one of his pretty little moans and whimpers?

“Y/n,” he whined into the kiss when you squeezed his base, his brain had become too foggy to even comprehend anything but your name and the way your hand felt stroking his dick.

His head fell limply on your shoulder as he struggled to watch you jerk him off under the confines of his boxers.

He felt just as good as you remembered, thick, long, and hot to the touch.

“Spit,” you instructed while slowing down the pace of your hand.

“Okay,” he whined and obediently lifted his head from your shoulder, gathering a glob of saliva in his mouth and spitting it onto his tip.

“Good boy” he looked up slowly and met your eyes with his hooded ones moaning at the praise that rolled off your tongue.

“Hmmm,” he nodded his head in agreement, eyebrows furrowing when you spread the mixture of his precum and saliva on his shaft. “So good” he sighed in pleasure.

Any second, he was going to cum. The quiet sticky sound that came from you rubbing him up and down made heat rise to his cheeks and he couldn’t stop his slit from producing drops precum, not when your fingers massaged his tip so good.

He kept moaning your name in your ear over and over, clutching onto your thigh for support as he felt his thighs tensing and that familiar feeling he felt on the first night you two met. “What is it, pretty boy?” You hummed at the sight of his precum staining his lower abdomen, some of it even spilling into his belly button.

He just moaned in response, squeezing his legs together tightly from embarrassment.

“You gonna cum, pretty boy, is that it?” He nodded against your shoulder and moved his head to your neck, nudging softly as he thrusts his hips up to match the movement of your hand.

“Gonna cum” he breathed into your ear, and you swore it was the hottest thing you’d ever hear.

The sight in front of you had you dripping. His boxers were stained in precum shirt slightly lifted up, giving you the perfect view of his abdomen covered in his slick.

His hot, heavy breath fanning against your neck and the desperation of his hips bucking into your hand was the most beautiful sight ever. He was a complete fucked out mess.

You’ve never been with someone that was so easily worked up, and the fact that he was like this all because of you had you equally worked up, so worked up that you pulled your hand out of his boxers, drawing a whiny gasp from him as you spoiled yet another one of his orgasm.

His discontent didn’t last for more than a second as you got down on your knees under the table. He hastily looked around to ensure no one was watching and quickly pulled his pants down below his kneecaps, giving you access to his hard-on that rested on his lower tummy.

Yeah, his morals were definitely out the window.

You took him in your mouth without warning causing him to jump in his seat slightly when he felt the warmth of your mouth enveloping his rock-hard cock. “Fuck” he hissed as his eyes rolled back in his head while more barely coherent curses fell past his dry lips.

He looked under the table, watching you as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You sucked all the way from his tip and stopped at his base, practically swallowing him whole. “Oh fuck” he grabbed the sides of his chair, trying to ground himself.

He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from your lips wrapped around his shaft. He was mesmerized watching the way his cock disappeared into your mouth.

Your saliva dribbled down his shaft, creating the most obscene sounds he’s ever heard as you sucked him off.

It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to the feeling of your mouth on his dick, and no sessions with his right hand could ever compare to the pleasure you were giving him right now.

When you pulled back to take a breath, his dick was wet and glossy from your saliva. The sight made him twitch, and he got so red when you giggled at his involuntary reaction.

You placed your hands on his thighs to support yourself. You stuck out your tongue, using the tip of the wet muscle to trace the veins on his length. “Y/n, i-” he covered his face with his hands, trying so hard to hold out, but it was useless when you teasingly ran your tongue along the underside of his cock and sucked him back in. “I’m cumming” he announced with a shaky breath and let his hands fall down to his sides once more as he watched himself emptying his balls down your throat.

The way his cock felt throbbing inside your mouth brought you just a little too much satisfaction, even more satisfaction than having an orgasm of your own.

You hummed around his shaft, gagging when his cum squirted in your mouth and hit the back of your throat. “Shit!” He moaned loudly when your throat tightened on his pulsating cock, pleasuring him even more.

You made eye contact while sucking him through his orgasm he panted uncontrollably, face scrunching in overstimulation. As you felt him going limp in your mouth, you pulled off his cock and licked the corner of your lips, kissing and licking every inch of his dick, making sure not a single drop of his release was wasted. “Taste so sweet,” you hummed at his taste that lingered on your tongue.

He very timidly tucked your hair behind your ear, and the gesture alone came off as being way softer than he intended. You looked up through your fluttering lashes, and he only smiled while biting his lip before shyly looking away.

You felt a strange feeling in your stomach, but you quickly brushed it off.

He winced slightly when you pulled his boxers up and tucked him away. The dampness in his underwear felt uncomfortable and even more uncomfortable when he wore his pants and tucked his shirt back into its original state.

Without a word, you got up from your position on the floor and straightened out your clothes.

A deep sigh escaped him as he was finally coming back to reality after that mind-blowing orgasm, and unfortunately but yet so fitting for him, his throat dried up, and he couldn’t even form a proper sentence all the questions that were left lingering in his mind ever since the party were stuck on his tongue.

And just like on Halloween night, you were disappearing from his sight once more.

But at least he got your name this time, maybe if he’s lucky enough, you’ll be coming back to this same library maybe sooner than later, and maybe he’d wait every day just in case you did show up.

That’s a lot of maybe’s, but that’s all he had as he looked at the disheveled notes that were now long forgotten about cause he was too busy thinking about you.

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[rottenpumpkin13]

This is possibly (probably) opening myself up to another wave of pain. So I'm begging you to be gentle...

But Do Angeal and Sephiroth ever find out that Genesis cried over annoying them? Did zack notice that Genesis had been crying? Did they apologise? I need to know!!

Also I hope you're doing well!

(Continued from this post) Okay!! Let's do this >:)

-⏤★⏤-

Zack stands before Sephiroth and Angeal as he chronicles the afternoon he had spent with Genesis two days prior. With each word invoked, different expressions stretch across their faces, ranging from bewilderment to shock. He would’ve opened up to them sooner, but Zack wanted to wait and see whether Genesis would say something first. 

He didn’t. For the past two days, any time Zack had seen the infamous trio together, Genesis had been right beside Angeal and Sephiroth. His smile was forced, his words were careful, and every step he took was as calculated as his newfound sense of self-awareness—like Genesis was trying his hardest to step over stray bombs. 

"Seriously, guys," Zack insists. He presses his back against the closed door of Sephiroth’s office, where he has cornered them. "Genesis isn't doing well. He didn’t explicitly say anything that day, but it was clear he had been crying.”

Sephiroth raises an eyebrow, his usual stoic demeanor showing a hint of surprise. 

“And yesterday he finally told me what’s been going on,” Zack continues, rubbing his crossed arms in a self-soothing gesture, “he…says he feels like a bother.”

Angeal huffs. "And how do you know he's not just having one of his dramatic moments?"

Zack leans against the wall, not taking kindly to “dramatic moments” and whatever Angeal is trying to insinuate. 

"Because he told me. He feels like nothing he says or does matters at the end of the day, that you guys have the same image of him in your head, that he’s this—this—” Zack shakes his head. “This annoying weight that you put up with.”

Angeal exchanges a glance with Sephiroth, a silent, shared question passing between them. "Why would he confide in you, Zack? I’m not trying to be rude, but I didn’t think he liked you very much.”

Zack composes that part of him that knows not to lash out. He’s standing before his two superiors, after all. “What's the name of his new book?” 

Sephiroth and Angeal look at each other, their expressions incredulous. 

Angeal shrugs. “I don't know what you—”

“—Because Genesis can name every single plant in your office, pick out your coffee order, and tell you what issue’s been badgering your mind lately. 

The click of Angeal’s teeth as he clamps his mouth shut is Zack's cue to turn to Sephiroth. 

“And you. He admires you so much, he can go into detail about every single one of your conquests. And he loves you so hard as a friend that he can remember what things to avoid teasing you over so he never crosses the line with you.” 

Sephiroth looks down. Angeal looked away. Zack unglues himself from the door and steps forward. 

“I know I’m not perfect. I talk too much, I’m impulsive, I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew, and I get that I’m all over the place sometimes.” He pauses. “And if the people who I admire the most in this world—you two—ever use those as reasons to ignore me, then I think I’d just—” Zack chokes on his words, feeling hot tears spill down his cheeks. 

“I’d just die,” he whispers. When he looks up again, Angeal is rubbing his own face with eyes that are getting glassier by the minute. Sephiroth is still looking down, contemplative. 

Zack is undeterred. “If you can’t stand him anymore, fine. But you need to tell him that—”

“That’s not the case,” Sephiroth says quietly, quickly. 

“Well, it sure seems like it,” Zack snaps. “If you can’t stand him anymore, fine,” he repeats, slower this time. “But you need to make that clear to him now.” Zack’s clenched fists tremble at his side. He lets out a shaking breath. “It’s painful enough watching you guys be jerks. I don’t want to continue to see him miserable too.” 

Angeal shakes his head, still unable to meet Zack’s eyes. “Genesis is our friend, Zack. It’s hard to explain to an outside perspective, but we do care for him—”

“Then fucking act like it,” Zack spits. 

This time both Angeal and Sephiroth snap their heads up, looking At Zack as if he has just drenched them with a bucket of cold water. Zack feels his cheeks hit up and regret pool at the pit of his stomach, yet he’s unrelenting. He heaves his shoulders, looking at both men with the same type of conviction Angeal always claims he lacks.

“You can punish me if you want.” He hangs his head. “I probably deserve it, but…” Zack shrugs. “It’s what I thought you should hear.” 

The silence in the office is loud, with the only discernable sounds being the whir of the air conditioner and the soft hum of life right outside the door. An uncomfortable tension hangs in the air. Angeal and Sephiroth exchange a meaningful glance.

Zack shuffles his feet, acutely aware of the possible punishment coming his way. The seconds stretch into an eternity, but he endures it, thinking of Genesis’s well-being—something he never expected to care so much about.

Sephiroth breaks the silence. “Thank you, Zack,” he says, his voice strained. “Your honesty is appreciated.”

Angeal offers a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Go on, Zack. We need some time to discuss this. We'll handle it from here.”

Zack hesitates for a moment, then nods. He turns to leave the office, and when the heavy door closes behind him, the gravity of the conversation lingers like a weighted cloak over his shoulders. 

-

Genesis sits at the booth by the tall glass windows, their usual seat in the dining hall. A bowl of hot soup lies untouched in front of him. The aroma of fresh food fills the air, doing nothing to Genesis other than strengthening the nausea that digs into his stomach. The often lively atmosphere feels heavy as he waits for Sephiroth and Angeal.

He closes the pages of his mystery novel with a soft sigh. Now officially done with the book, a sense of emptiness settles in, like it always does when a thrilling story reaches its end. 

His thoughts wander to the plot, and the revelation that, in the end, the husband was the murderer. He had unraveled the mystery before the final page, a small victory that ended up being the highlight of his…week, really. 

Genesis slumps in his seat, the triumph short-lived. He yearns to share the excitement of the book’s end with Sephiroth and Angeal and boast about his achievement. A knot tightens in his chest. Unfortunately, the fear of sounding annoying held him back.

His melancholy momentarily hushes when Sephiroth and Angeal approach. Surprisingly, they take their seats on either side of him, leaving the opposite side of the booth empty as they squeeze Genesis between them. Genesis can only mutter a confused “huh?” as their trays clatter atop the table. 

Angeal flashes him a genuine, bright smile that Genesis swears he hasn’t seen in months. “Hey!” he nudges him. “Did you hear about Sergeant Stevens? Apparently, Heidegger barred him from interacting with Scarlet on suspicion that she’s using him for another purpose.” 

Genesis is taken aback—not by the gossip, but by the topic coming from Angeal. “Um…no, I haven’t heard anything about that.” 

“Oh, it’s quite the scandal,” Sephiroth adds, offering Genesis a small smile. “But not a bigger scandal than the newest addition to the Sector 8 theater’s production of Loveless.”

Genesis is flummoxed. He feels his heart sink, heat rapidly rising to his face. 

“Oh?” Angeal leans over. “What happened?” 

Sephiroth pokes the roast beef with his fork, shrugging. “Based on what this week’s issue of Dramatica Magazine chronicles, the actress Eliza Moffit refuses to cooperate with Director Henry Fray unless he changes her lines to cater to a younger, more contemporary audience.” 

Genesis feels the initial signs of tears coming in, complete with a sharp pain in his nose and a throat that continues to close up by the minute. 

Angeal hums. “I heard about that. Apparently, her insistence on changing Minerva’s lines has caused a strain in the relations between the Loveless Theatre and the scholars who study the epic. Remember Carl Madden?”

Sephiroth nods. “The professor whose paper on the play’s use of Soliloquy Genesis annihilated online last year.” 

Genesis feels the tears spill from his eyes, hot and washing away the last trace of a smile from his face.

“Him!” Angeal snaps. “He’s threatening legal action against Miss Moffit.” 

“Quite the scandal,” Sephiroth says. 

“Isn’t it?” 

“What do you think, Genesis?” 

Genesis sniffs. “Um…” He quickly wipes away a tear. “C-Could you please stop making fun of me? I get it, I don’t need—whatever this is. I get it. I see your point already.” 

Angeal’s smile fades quicker than the fried rice on his plate has cooled. “Making fun of you? Gen, we’re not—hey, are you crying?” Now noticing the tears, he softly places a hand on Genesis’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Sephiroth follows suit, gently laying his hand on Genesis’s other shoulder. He looks concerned, watching another tear roll down his friend’s cheek. He frowns. “Is there something that we can help with?” 

Genesis shakes his head, sniffling as he reaches up to wipe away more tears. “I understand that you find my endless prattling annoying and tiresome. I’m trying my best to change.”

Had the sound of Angeal and Sephiroth’s hearts being sliced into two been any louder, the other side of the world would’ve heard it. They exchange anxious looks. 

Angeal lightly shakes Genesis’s shoulder. “Gen,” he says softly, as if talking to a child. “Can you look at me please?” 

Genesis reluctantly raises his head. 

Gen, we're not making fun of you. What gave you that idea?”

“We're genuinely interested in what you have to say,” Sephiroth adds. ��We want to know how you're feeling.”

Genesis sniffs, his tears momentarily interrupted by confusion. "But... you were talking about…and I thought—"

Angeal interrupts him with a soft chuckle. “We were trying to lighten the mood, not mock you. You've seemed so down lately, and we haven’t been the most attentive friends to you.” 

A tinge of embarrassment colors Genesis's cheeks. He wipes away the remaining tears and sniffles again. "I... I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

Sephiroth squeezes Genesis's shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not annoying, nor are you tiresome in any way. If I did not have you in my life, I’m certain I would’ve…” Sephiroth pauses, thinking hard. “....Chewed off my own foot by now.” 

The humorous analogy works. Genesis lets out a dry laugh, then looks at Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth hesitates, looking past Genesis at Angeal. “Every time I act annoyed with you, I thought I was playing my part in a joke we were all in on.” 

Angeal nods. “We didn’t realize that by ignoring you, we were hurting your feelings.” 

“Nor were we aware that you had feelings,” Sephiroth adds quietly. 

“Seph!” Angeal snaps, reaching behind Genesis and slapping the back of Sephiroth’s head.

Genesis laughs a little more. 

Angeal groans. “Our point is, you’re important to us. And we don’t want you dimming your shine just to appease people. Don’t ever do that.” 

“Ever,” Sephiroth agrees with a singular, arched eyebrow. “Do you understand how boring our lives would be without you in it?”

“Or how bored Sephiroth would be without someone to keep him in line,” Angeal grins. 

Sephiroth rolls his eyes, huffing. 

Genesis manages a weak smile, feeling both grateful and vulnerable. "I appreciate that. I just... I thought I was becoming a nuisance.” 

Sephiroth slips his hand from Genesis’s shoulder, crossing his arms as his focus veers to the glimmering city outside. He hesitates, “even if the morrow is barren of promises…”

Angeal and Genesis both look up, the former smiling before continuing the line. “Nothing shall forestall my return.”

Sephiroth nods, smiling. “To become the dew that quenches the land.”

“To spare the sands, the seas, the skies,” Angeal says, squeezing Genesis’s shoulder.

Genesis looks down at his lap, unable to contain his smile as warmth spreads through him. “I offer thee this silent sacrifice,” he says, huffing. “So you two have been listening to me.”

Angeal sinks down, resting his head on Genesis’s shoulder and sighing. “More like, you’ve beaten it into our heads.”

Sephiroth does the same, bracing his head on Genesis’s other shoulder—and yawning. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Genesis can’t believe his ears. Not only had they listened, but absorbed his words into the fabric of their friendship.

The weight of the loneliness that had crushed him before lifts, replaced by the light, reassuring presence of his two friends. 

He leans into the shared warmth, feeling a genuine sense of belonging as he closes his eyes. 

Everything feels perfect. 

Well—almost perfect. He wouldn’t be Genesis Rhapsodos if he didn’t strive to get the last word in

“Gentlemen,” he mutters, “this is why people think we're a throuple."

Laughter erupts from the three of them.

[nessagigglebox]

Chapter 27 Xaden POV Fourth Wing Favorite Quotes

“Shit like that is why I keep my inconvenient feelings about Violet to my damned self, no matter how good she looks today or how delectable she smells sitting next to me, like some kind of citrus that makes me want to bury my face in the side of her neck and see just how pink I can get her cheeks to flush. No, if I did that, every rider in this room would look at her differently, and not in a good way. Leave it to me to fall for the one woman on the Continent I can never fucking have.”

“Still, I'd put myself right between her and Liam, ignoring his knowing little smirk, when I took the chair closest to Violet. There's nothing going on there, but he can back the fuck up when I'm around.”

“My mind runs through three other battle strategies, then stutters on a fourth as I glance in Violet's direction and catch her lips pursing in concentration. Gods, that mouth. I dream about that mouth. Fantasize about that mouth. That kiss is burned into my memory like a relic, taunting me with what will never happen again, with what I never should have tasted in the first place.”

“My chest tightens annoyingly. Whatever look Violet shot her sister, it was obviously in our defense, and damn if that doesn't hit me straight between the ribs.”

The wispy silver bond solidifies, an emotion - pride —dancing down the pathway even though Violet doesn't move a muscle. Holy shit, we really are connected. This could be —

"Dangerous? Reckless? An unaffordable distraction?" Sgaeyl snaps, and I swear I hear her teeth clash.

"Fun." There's no denying the bond between us when it's shining at me like a fucking mage light. "We can pretend I'm not here, just for the sake of the exercise." I put my figurine on the table and settle in my chair, then wrap my arm around the back of Violet's seat and enjoy the sight of Dain grinding his teeth. "Give Aetos here the position we all know he craves." His jaw flexes, and I leave my arm planted like a battle marker. The command, he can have. I'm mildly curious to see what he does with it. But that's the only position I'm ceding to the spoiled whiner.

"Don't be a dick," Violet whispers.

"You haven't even seen me start to be a dick." I send the words down the bond.

Her head whips toward mine, her lips parting as she openly gawks at me.

It worked. My heart stumbles, and I bite back a laugh. I was wrong.

This isn't just fun, it's instantly vital to my existence. I turn toward her, letting a corner of my mouth rise, and look straight into those hypnotic hazel eyes. "You're staring. It's going to get awkward in about thirty seconds if you don't stop."

"How?" She spits out the whisper like an accusation.

"The same way you talk to Sgaeyl. We're all gloriously, annoyingly linked.

This is just one of the perks. Though I'm starting to wish I'd tried it sooner.

The look on your face is priceless." I wink and turn my attention back to the seething pot of jealousy boiling over across the table.

"You're. The. Wingleader." Dain chokes out the words, and I can't help but wonder if he's submitting to my rank or accusing me of inappropriate behavior with a subordinate.

Not that I give a fuck either way. If it were safe for Violet, I'd be ecstatically guilty of inappropriate behavior. Wickedly inappropriate. In my bed. In hers. On a table in the Archives. In the bathing chamber and every room with a door to lock so no one else can see what's mine. I'd be so decadently inappropriate that her voice would turn hoarse from screaming my name every single day.

But though she'd be the best thing that ever happened to me, I'd be the worst thing that ever happened to her. The truth of it sinks like a stone in my stomach.

"Why are you even here?" Dain whines. "No offense, sir, but we weren't exactly expecting senior leadership on this trip."

"Yes, why are you here?" Sgaeyl doesn't disguise the mockery in her tone.

"You're more than aware that Sgaeyl and Tairn are mated." My voice stays respectfully level. "It was your idea to bring the daggers." I'm careful to only speak down Sgaeyl's bond.

"It seemed a prudent course of action, considering your insufferable intolerance to being separated from the general's daughter." She huffs.

"Three days?" Dain fires back, leaning in. "You couldn't make it three days?"

"Insufferable? That's a bit far."

"Where's Violet now?'" she mocks. "What is she doing? Is she thinking of me? Is she missing me? Is she getting closer to Aetos? Does she dream about that kiss? How many days until Violet's -'"

"Point fucking taken." She's going to be unbearable on the flight home.

"It has nothing to do with him." Violet slams her dragon figurine on the table. "That's up to Tairn and Sgaeyl."

And there she goes again, defending me. Fuck, I love this woman.

"You never considered that it was you I couldn't stay away from?" I ask her. She jabs the point of her elbow into my biceps, and I fight the upward curve of my mouth. I love that she isn't scared of me, that she'll call me out in a way no one else besides Sgaeyl does. Everything she does - even blatantly elbowing me in front of her squad —turns me on. I'm fucked on every level known to man when it comes to Violet Sorrengail. "Now, now, you’ll give our litte communication secret away if you can' keep from being so….violent”

Of course you rush to defend him," Dain whines yet again. "Though how you can forget that this guy wanted to kill you six months ago is beyond me."

He's not lying, but that was when i hated the idea of her, before I knew her -loved her.

Violet stiffens. "I cannot believe you went there."

The hurt in her tone sets my teeth on edge. "Good job remaining professional, Actos." I scratch the relic on my neck to remind him exactly who the fuck I am. "Really shows those leadership qualities to their best advantage."

A rider stationed here whistles. "Do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? It would be faster."

Liam stifles what's obviously a laugh, and I shoot him a sideways look.

"You want to do your job?" Violet's smile practically drips venomous sugar as she turns it on Dain. "I mean, how you can forget you're the squad leader is beyond me."

Fucking love her.

Panic skitters down the silver bond.

"Relax. I's just me." I crook a finger, and a strand of shadow solidifies to skim along Violet's cheek.

"Fuck me," a rider to the left says.

"I can surround this entire outpost, but I think that might freak some people out." I close my hands, and the shadows jolt back to their natural state, letting light pour in through the windows. Damn, that was fun. It was even worth the threat assessment I'm getting from Mira. Violet tenses like she spotted it, too. "I hope you didn't get any ideas while we were in the dark there."

She lifts her middle finger without even looking my way, and a laugh sneaks past my lips as Mira leads us through the rest of the exercise.

"Wasn't my choice." I shrug. Lying is easy, except when it comes to Violet. I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

The truth of the words stings. I might be accomplishing a very risky run, but Sgaeyl is right. We're here because I couldn’t concentrate for shit knowing that Violet was this close to the border. I chose Violet over my wing.

"And next year? When you're a brand-new lieutenant? What shit is she going to miss out on then?" Mira asks.

Yeah, fuck if I know. At this rate, they'll have to station me at Basgiath if I can't get my shit under control and get over —

"Love isn't something you get over," Sgaeyl reminds me. "Why do you think I flew you all the way out here?"

"To mock me while cavorting with your mate."

"I didn't say it was without its perks."

Fuck. What are the rules when it comes to interfering with sisters? Am I supposed to step in? Let Violet handle it? Lewellen let Liam and me beat the shit out of each other when we fought, but I'm not sure that's the right approach here. I'm also not about to infantilize Violet when her sister is doing a damned good job of it herself.

The way she's made? She's fucking perfect. Everything about her is what makes her... Violet.

Or so help me, Dunne, I will throw her over my damned shoulder right in front of everyone.

That approaching drift- and whoever is responsible for compromising the power supply tor the wards - will kill her if given the chance, and that's not something id ever let happen.

"Approaching," Sgaeyl informs me.

But damn, her courage has me tripping over my feelings for her.

"Not fast enough."

Violet isn't going to leave of her own accord; I can see it in her eyes, feel it in the tense lines of her back. I drop my shields, and her emotions hurtle down the bond. Determination. Fear-

She's going to bolt.

And there's only one way to stop her. I lift my hands from her waist to the velvet-soft skin of her cheeks, memorizing every color in her eyes as I cup the back of her neck, preparing to commit what she'll think is an unforgivable sin.

I kiss her. It's hard and raw, wild and desperate, and the way she opens for me, kissing me back with abandon, nearly takes me out at the knees.

Gods, I'll never get enough of this woman. Her mind. Her tenacity. Her mouth.

I kiss her like this might be the last time she'll let me, like this is an alternate reality and there's a chance she could love me back.

I kiss her like she's mine.

It's a stolen moment —it can never be anything more —but it's ours.

Wingbeats approach, and I ignore them, stroking my tongue against hers again and again, keeping my hands at the nape of her neck by sheer force of will, denying the urge to explore every curve, every hollow of her tight body. I've never wanted anyone the way I want her, never craved a woman's laugh as much as her touch or needed her trust more than my next breath. Only Violet.

I tear my mouth away, the steady pulses of wings undeniable as Tairn and Sgaeyl approach. Wind gusts, catching the loosened strands of her hair as I lean my forehead against hers. "Leave for me, Violet."

She stiffens, accusation filling her eyes so quickly that I know she's figured out that I just used our attraction to distract her. "I will hate you for this." Ouch.

"Yeah." I nod, accepting the consequences of my actions. "I can live With that." I can live with anything as long as she's still breathing, so I drop my hands to her arms and force them out at her sides, "Arms up. Hold tight."

"Fuck. You." She hisses out the words as a shadow falls over us, and I hit the floor, catching myself with my hands as a black claw fills the space I just occupied, hooking Violet's arms and snatching her into the sky.

"She'll never forgive me," I tell Sgaeyl as she lands on the narrow perch ahead of me. "Especially if something happens to her sister."

She tilts her head, staring at me with typical impatience as I launch to my feet and sprint down the rampart toward her. We're airborne in seconds, her wings pummeling the air before I even reach the seat. "If she can't forgive you for the least of your transgressions, then she doesn't deserve you."

"I don't think she'll see it that way." I get a good grip on her scales and settle in for the flight.

"Then you'd better start praying to your gods that her sister survives."

So pretty much the whole chapter 😍 Rebecca just pull a “Midnight Sun” already. I’m dying over here 🥹