#just not things that their smell is hidden

[roselilies]

"Are you trying to distract the curses, or me?"

The playful lilt in Gojo’s voice made the blood rush to your face before you could even turn to look at him. You had barely stepped into the training grounds when his signature white hair and too-casual stance came into view. Today, the uniform skirt you were wearing was a little shorter than usual, though not short enough to warrant his teasing.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Why would I need to distract you when you’re already distracted all the time?”

Gojo’s grin widened behind his blindfold, and he took a deliberate step closer. His hands slid into his pockets, the picture of effortless confidence. “Oh, I’m very focused. On you, that is.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at his words. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”

“Nope. You’re the highlight of my day, baby.”

The nickname made you falter for a split second, though you quickly covered it up by turning away and pretending to examine your nails. Don’t let him get to you, you told yourself. It’s just Gojo being Gojo.

But that was easier said than done. He had a way of getting under your skin, of making every casual interaction feel loaded with some unspoken tension. The worst part? You weren’t entirely sure he didn’t do it on purpose.

“If you’re going to stand there and flirt, the least you can do is help me set up,” you said, gesturing to the training equipment scattered around the field.

Gojo laughed, the sound warm and slightly obnoxious. “Of course, anything for you.”

Before you could blink, he was suddenly at your side, picking up a set of practice dummies as if they weighed nothing. The proximity caught you off guard, and you found yourself hyper-aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours. Damn it, why does he smell so good?

“You’re awfully quiet,” he teased, leaning just a little too close. “Am I making you nervous?”

“In your dreams,” you shot back, shoving a dummy into his chest with more force than necessary.

Gojo caught it effortlessly, laughing again as if he enjoyed your annoyance. “I dream about you all the time, actually.”

You groaned, trying to mask the flutter in your chest. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because you love me,” he said matter-of-factly, his grin impossibly smug. “But don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to admit it.”

You shook your head, biting back a retort as you turned your attention to the field. His teasing was relentless, and you hated how much you secretly looked forward to it. Gojo Satoru had this annoying charm, this magnetism that made him impossible to ignore. He knew it too, and used it to his advantage every chance he got.

“Alright, focus,” you said, pointing at the dummies. “We’ve got to run these drills before the others arrive.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said with a mock salute, the smirk on his lips audible in his tone.

Ignoring the way your heart skipped at the nickname, you moved to the center of the field. As you began demonstrating the first sequence, you felt Gojo’s gaze on you, heavy and unapologetically lingering. It was like he wanted you to notice.

“Gojo, stop staring,” you snapped without looking at him, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Why? You look good,” he shot back, unbothered. “The uniform suits you. Especially the skirt.”

You froze mid-step, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Why thank you, but you’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he said, his tone softening slightly, almost fond.

That caught you off guard. Usually, his comments were light and playful, but this felt different, more intentional. You turned to face him, trying to gauge whether he was just messing with you again. His expression, though hidden behind the blindfold, seemed uncharacteristically sincere.

“Why do you do that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Do what?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Say things like that.”

Gojo paused, and for a moment, you thought he might deflect like he always did. But then his lips curved into a smaller, softer smile.

“Because I mean it.”

The simplicity of his answer left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of a joke, a smirk, something to suggest he wasn’t being serious. But all you found was an openness that made your chest tighten.

“...You’re so annoying,” you muttered, looking away to hide your embarrassment.

Gojo laughed, the sound lighter than usual. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly as he added, “But seriously, you look amazing today. Not just today, though. Always.”

You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made you feel warm in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, turning back to the equipment. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Anything you say, baby,” he replied, but there was something gentler in his tone now—something that made you think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely joking.

A/N: Gojo I will always love you.

[echo-riot]

✞⛧𝒜𝒷𝒷𝓎 with a stoner girlfriend ✞⛧

✞⛧ Abby initially didn’t understand why her girlfriend was so chill all the time until she found her stash, which made everything click.

✞⛧ She teases her stoner girlfriend relentlessly about how much she zones out mid-conversation.

✞⛧ Secretly loves the calming energy her girlfriend brings into her chaotic life and often finds herself unconsciously mirroring it.

✞⛧ Abby doesn’t smoke herself but finds the smell of weed oddly comforting because it reminds her of her girlfriend.

✞⛧ She jokes about her girlfriend’s “snack hoard” but ends up raiding it when she thinks no one’s looking.

✞⛧ Gets oddly competitive during smoke sessions when she tries to prove she can roll better joints—even though she rarely partakes.

✞⛧ Abby insists on keeping her girlfriend hydrated during her high moments, constantly handing over water bottles.

✞⛧ She enjoys watching her girlfriend giggle uncontrollably at the dumbest things and secretly treasures these moments.

✞⛧ Abby lowkey loves stoner cuddles because her girlfriend gets extra clingy, and she secretly craves affection.

✞⛧ Whenever her girlfriend starts rambling about random high thoughts, Abby just listens with an amused smirk, occasionally chiming in with sarcastic remarks.

✞⛧ Her girlfriend once convinced her to try an edible, and while Abby didn’t enjoy it, she found her girlfriend’s excitement adorable.

✞⛧ Abby pretends to be annoyed when her girlfriend insists on sharing her high “philosophical breakthroughs,” but deep down, she finds them endearing.

✞⛧ She’s extremely protective of her girlfriend and will shut down anyone who judges her for her stoner habits.

✞⛧ Abby is the designated “anti-paranoia” partner, constantly reassuring her girlfriend during moments of overthinking while high.

✞⛧ Helps her girlfriend set up the perfect cozy vibe for her sessions—soft blankets, candles, snacks, and all.

✞⛧ Loves to watch her girlfriend paint or draw while high, marveling at the creativity that pours out of her.

✞⛧ Abby will carry her girlfriend to bed without hesitation if she falls asleep mid-session.

✞⛧ Abby finds her girlfriend’s slow, relaxed way of talking while high oddly soothing.

✞⛧ She becomes the ultimate snack hunter, venturing out during the apocalypse to find anything remotely edible for her girlfriend’s munchies.

✞⛧ Abby secretly loves when her girlfriend plays chill music during her smoke sessions; it becomes their shared downtime playlist.

✞⛧ They often sit on the roof together, watching the stars while her girlfriend passes a joint, creating small pockets of peace amidst the chaos.

✞⛧ Abby jokingly calls herself the “responsible one,” always keeping an eye on her girlfriend to ensure she doesn’t get into trouble.

✞⛧ She doesn’t quite understand all the stoner lingo her girlfriend uses but nods along anyway to make her happy.

✞⛧ Abby once got caught in a coughing fit when she tried to “impress” her girlfriend by taking a puff—her girlfriend laughed for ten minutes straight.

✞⛧ She’s overly cautious about her girlfriend carrying her stash and keeps it hidden in their safest spot.

✞⛧ Abby has an uncanny ability to find the perfect hiding places for her girlfriend’s stash in their camp.

✞⛧ She doesn’t mind her girlfriend being a stoner as long as it doesn’t interfere with survival, though she jokes about her getting high during critical moments.

✞⛧ Abby secretly loves giving her girlfriend piggyback rides when she gets too giggly and tired to walk back to camp.

✞⛧ Finds it hilarious when her girlfriend accidentally wanders off during a smoke session and has to be reeled back in.

✞⛧ Abby once walked in on her girlfriend talking to their dog while high and couldn’t stop laughing for days.

✞⛧ She teases her girlfriend about having “high ideas” but always listens because some of them are surprisingly good.

✞⛧ Abby can tell when her girlfriend’s high just by the dreamy look on her face and how she plays with her hair.

✞⛧ She becomes the ultimate caretaker when her girlfriend has too much, making sure she’s safe, comfortable, and not freaking out.

✞⛧ Abby secretly loves when her girlfriend’s high compliments turn into long, heartfelt rambles about how much she loves her.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly patient when her girlfriend gets the giggles, even though she’s trying to have a serious conversation.

✞⛧ Abby will carry her girlfriend home in her arms if she gets too sleepy after a session, even if she grumbles about it.

✞⛧ They bond over creating scavenged “stoner meals,” combining the weirdest ingredients to make surprisingly tasty snacks.

✞⛧ Abby loves seeing her girlfriend’s artistic side come alive during smoke sessions and always encourages her creativity.

✞⛧ Despite her tough exterior, Abby finds her girlfriend’s chill, carefree energy grounding and comforting in a world full of chaos.

[thetxtdevil]

Hybrid TXT Thoughts

content: nsfw/smut, hybrid, human fem.reader, very vague smut, p in v, no wrap, cuddlefuck, mention of somnophilia, biting/nibbling, pool sex, outdoor sex, kai's scenario mentions mental health, let me know if I'm forgetting anything

average word count: 380 (each member)

the devil's note: thank @fairyofshampgyu for inspiring me :) I did use different animals for the boys because I wanted to be different 😎 I hope you enjoy!!!

Panda!Yeonjun 🐼

Yeonjun is a unique hybrid. It often leaves people guessing what he is as he seems docile but his body is big and broad body makes them think otherwise. It's not until they stop and admire Yeonjun’s smokey eyes, small round black ears hidden in his dark hair, and his cheeks lifting in a happy grin is when they can identify that Yeonjun is a panda hybrid. Panda!Yeonjun is a chill addition to your home most of the time laying around snacking on various foods. He’s so cute when lounging on the sofa you just want to snuggle your big bear, and he will never stop you from doing so. Panda!Yeonjun may be lazy at times but he does put in the effort to show his appreciation towards you. Yeonjun cooks for you and keeps you company. Panda’s are vocal so he wants to hear about your day and talk about everything and anything. Panda!Yeonjun doesn’t like confrontation though, so when he hears you masturbating in your room he doesn’t say anything. He’s too lazy to move and give you privacy, it's not like he would, he actually likes just listening to you, the wet sounds, pathetic whines, and your smell are nice.

However, one day something washes over Panda!Yeonjun and his tired eyes feel more alert. His body is fully awake and he’s not in the mood to just hear you. Continuously walking back and forth in front of your door, it wasn’t until you walked up to him and asked what was wrong is when he lunged at you. Big hands pawing at your body, knocking you into your comfy bed, and just like how Yeonjun is vocal in a normal setting he’s blabbering during sex. Telling you all the dirty things he wants to do to you, “Do you not realize that I can sense that you touch yourself, and how you’d be happier if you asked for my help?” His long dick pushes into your cunt hitting where your fingers couldn’t touch, and he made sure you always had relief when doing it with him. Pandas love to eat so it’s natural that Yeonjun loves to eat you out. He loves making love in the laziest ways, he was so grateful when you taught him that he didn’t have to do the most elaborate things in bed and instead, he can easily spoon you into heaven. Also, somnophilia… preferably him receiving it.

Raccoon!Soobin 🦝

Such a cute not-so-little thing. Raccoon!Soobin stands awkwardly with his ringlet tail swishing behind him as he waits for you to finish your food. You had to convince him to stop feeling like he has to eat your scraps and that he can eat freshly made food. Your heart gushes when you see Soobin’s dark circles surrounding his thankful glimmering eyes. Raccoon!Soobin is very active at night, dark eye bags worsen when he stares at the bright screen of your TV as he plays video games. You had to start inviting your friends over during late afternoons just so they could see your hybrid. You’d giggle every time your friends would gush over Raccoon!Soobin, his little ears standing up and his striped tail standing tail liking the attention of your friends. He's usually sweet and kind however, one game night with your friends he was looking for someone to demolish. Getting into arguments and winning every round simply from his annoying behavior. 

When your friends leave, you turn to your heels wanting to punish Raccoon!Soobin for his behavior, to your surprise he was sweet and cuddly again. Rubbing his head all over you, if you turned your head to somewhere else other than him, he’ll whine. Pouty lips grazing your neck, “Weren’t you impressed by my gaming skills tonight? Did I do good?” His words and the bulge poking at your leg made you realize that his behavior tonight was that he wanted to show off how good of a mate he is. You may be weak for Raccoon!Soobin but you let him have his way eating you out and making sure he has seconds and leftovers. Then showing off his length to stuff into his pretty little owner’s cunt. Little nibbles here and there but scratches a lot. Groans when your leave red trails on his back. Raccoon!Soobin is very curious about your presence in bed so he’ll be at it until dawn and then you’re trapped under his sleeping body.

Otter!Beomgyu 🦦

Such a gentle little creature, so soft so cuddly, content with life. Otter!Beomgyu’s long brown hair permanently has wet tips and the same goes for his sleek tail. If he’s not in your bathtub he’s in the apartment’s community pool. You’re happy when he’s calm and sleepy, Otter!Beomgyu gives the best hugs when sleeping. Always spooning each other, he thrives when he has arms wrapped around him. But of course, he needs to use all of his energy before he can settle. Hand in hand walking to the community pool you arrive to find it mostly empty except for one guy doing laps. Beomgyu is bummed, otters a territorial and this is his territory, the word “community” is not a thing when he’s in there. What really sets him off is when he notices your lingering eyes on the muscular man in the pool. Imagine his big dark eyes full of distraught, pink lips in a big pout, and his little otter ears bending down. Otter!Beomgyu rushes to the edge of the water and dives in begging you to watch him do tricks. He glides through the water practically racing the other guy, you feel yourself getting dizzy watching the hybrid swirl through the pool.

Eventually, Otter!Gyu’s hectic playing made the other guy run for his money, or so Gyu thought. Floating on his back, giggling to himself as he watches the man leave, his attention is right back to you. “Come on, y/n, want you to play with me!” You shake your head, and you tell him he’s been in there for too long but when you get close to the edge the otter’s paw grabs onto you pulling into the pool. You gasp at the sudden sensation, not only by the cold water but by the exploring hands of Beomgyu. Before you know it you’re pushed against the cement wall as Otter!Beomgyu sucks hickeys onto your neck letting everyone know that you’re his. And his cum in the pool will also let everyone know that the place is his… Shower and bathtub sex believer, imagine Gyu lighting candles and surrounding the tub *sigh* so romantic. Otters rub their faces and hair for reasons but Beomgyu’s reason is to turn him on. Carding your fingers through his hair will make him cum so hard.

Squirrel!Taehyun 🐿️

Such a cute hybrid but don’t tell that to his face, Squirrel!Taehyun is a feisty little thing. He might be tiny but he works out to the point that it makes you a little afraid. Watching him at the gym go from one machine to the next in a flash, jumping everywhere wanting to try something new is the most entertaining thing. When Squirrel!Taehyun is not active he likes to follow you around helping you with the most mundane things all the while making cute little noises as a sign of admiration. He is playful in a way that he likes to tickle you with his tail. The first time you got the hybrid you hugged him close and couldn’t stop yourself from giggling from the fluff of his tail. Squirrel!Taehyun doesn’t talk about his feelings much so you use his tail to translate what's on his mind. He also uses the fluff of his tail to his advantage, after an argument he’ll tickle you until you smile, when you’re cold he’ll wrap his tail around you and this gets him closer to you.

Squirrel!Taehyun loves the outdoors, the fresh green grass, the warmth of the sun, and how beautiful you look sitting next to him on the picnic blanket. Reaching your hand for the last strawberry you then run into Tyun’s hand reaching for the same thing. He’s quick to grab fruit holding it up away from you. Whining, “you had more than enough give it to me.” You climb on top of the hybrid reaching for the strawberry but in a blink, you’re on the ground with the squirrel on top of you. A little smirk creeps on his face watching you squirm, biting the strawberry then kissing you sharing the fruit. He was quite thankful that you were in a dress and in the backyard so it was easy access to fuck you right there. Since then Squirrel!Taehyun begs you to have a treehouse in the backyard so that he can have a special place to read and do other things… Don’t be surprised when he pulls you into the ultimate fuck sessions in the treehouse. Something about the outdoors just gets his instincts going. The cool breeze makes your nipples harden and the scent of wood results in Taehyun fucking you in all positions. Just imagine shelves full of books and toys.

Service Dog!Huening Kai 🐕‍🦺

The first time meeting each other was a breeze, instantly clicking, making jokes, and being comfortable with each other’s presence. Puppy!Kai is playful and cuddly, always up for adventure with you even if it's going from the living room to your bedroom. However, He gets a little too comfortable when you have an episode with him for the first time Service Dog!Kai freezes. He sensed something in the air, he knew that you seemed off, it wasn’t until you called out for him he was stunned but instantly went into work mode. Service Dog!Kai is there sitting next to you, nosing you to sense any change to your current state. Poor Puppy!Kai will never forgive himself after that moment, you try again and again to tell him that it’s okay, mistakes happen, but he’s stubborn. Service Dog!Kai is also stubborn about your health, he will not let you up until your heart rate is appropriate. He is ready for anything, pills? He has a bag full of them. Sweet treat? Has the mobile app ready. Your big, sweet puppy links arms with you everywhere you go and makes sure that he’ll never falter when you have an episode.

After a day full of stressors and being overstimulated, Service Dog!Kai leads you to your bed where you two nap until dusk. Kai can sense your resolved mood, your scent is calmer, and your heart rate is settled, you also start to cling to him more. Your gentle hands scratching Puppy!Kai’s black-folded ears causing small whimpers to escape his lips. Crawling up to you, he focuses on your body language reading that you’re comfortable. You sandwich the hybrid’s handsome face with your hands making Kai’s fluffy black tail wag wildly. You then pull him to kiss you. His whole body covers you like a warm blanket, kissing you softly, repeatedly asking “Is this ok?” “Are you comfortable?” Your kisses get more passionate and hungry, it makes it hard for Kai to hold back. Puppy!Kai quickly learns how sex reduces anxiety, he loves sensing your arousal state while sucking on your tit as his fingers play with your clit. Puppy!Kai now always asks for sex as a remedy, wanting your mind to just think of him if not fucked dumb. 

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🐾

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman, @izzyy-stuff, @incogrio, @blue-moon-514

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

[tarareindeer]

₊✩‧₊Hidden Secrets₊✩‧₊

author's note : " ..just got time after doing the house chores...not much story but i try to write longer in the second part. Got the impression story and aesthetic from @nhaaauyen story called 'The Ghost of You "

PART 1 : I found you...

┊zombie apocalypse & omegaverse ┊

sevika {Alpha} x fem reader {omega} au!: Sevika a survivalist Alpha leading a treehouse community. You were just a wandering Omega with a secret, scraping by in the ruins of a dead world—until she caught you. One stolen backpack and a bottle of heat suppressants later, she made her intentions clear: you weren’t going anywhere. Survival wasn’t enough for her anymore; maybe you were the answer to something bigger.

cw : cursing,blunt behaviour?,brainrot

The forest was way too quiet for your liking. Like, “main character about to get jumped” kinda quiet. You adjusted the straps of your beat-up backpack, muttering under your breath as you scanned the treeline.

"God, I just want some ramen and a nap, not a zombie ambush," you whispered to no one, side-eyeing a squirrel that darted across your path like it had beef with you.

You’d found some canned soup and a box of stale crackers in the ruins of an old gas station, which, honestly, was the highlight of your week. But luck in this hellscape was a limited resource, and you knew better than to count on it.

That’s when it happened.

Something big way bigger than a squirrel grabbed you from behind. A hand like a damn vice clamped onto your arm, spinning you around so fast you barely had time to process what was happening.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA-!" you yelped, only to freeze as you got a good look at your attacker.

Sevika.

Tall, built like a tank, and looking at you like you were her next meal. Her mechanical arm gleamed faintly in the sunlight, and her sharp jawline could’ve cut glass. The scar running down her face only made her look more terrifying and.....fucking hot.

"Just—just a girl, out here minding her business, y’know? No need for the death grip, lady!" she drawled, voice low and rough, like gravel under boots.

She snorted, clearly unimpressed with your flailing attempts to free yourself. "Minding your business? Out here?" She leaned closer, dark eyes narrowing. Try again."

Before you could argue, she reached down and yoinked your backpack off your shoulder like you weren’t even holding it.

"Hey! That’s my stuff!" you snapped, watching helplessly as she unzipped it and started rummaging through your belongings like she was at a yard sale.

"Your stuff?" Sevika raised an eyebrow, pulling out a can of soup. "Yeah, not anymore."

You fumed, crossing your arms. "Cool, love that for you. Take my last two meals. It’s not like I wanted to live or anything."

Her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smirk. But then, her hand froze. Slowly, she pulled out a small, unassuming bottle.

The blood drained from your face.

"Oh," she said, her tone suddenly sharp. She turned the bottle of heat suppressants over in her hand, examining it like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. "Didn’t peg you for an Omega."

"Okay, first of all, rude," you shot back, though your voice wavered. "Second of all give that back!"

She ignored you, her eyes flicking back to your face. Her smirk returned, slower this time, more predatory.

"You’ve been hiding," she murmured, stepping closer.

You stumbled back, heart pounding as your instincts screamed at you to run. But where were you even gonna go? She was huge, fast, and had robotic strength. Your brain said fight, but your body was stuck on buffering.

"I'm not hiding," you managed to stammer, trying to sound tough and failing miserably.

"Sure," Sevika drawled, taking another step forward. Her gaze softened for a split second, though you weren’t sure if it was pity or something else entirely. Then, she sniffed the air—subtle, but enough to make your stomach drop.

Great. Of course she could smell you.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice dropping lower. "You thought these little pills were gonna keep me from noticing?" She held up the suppressants, shaking them lightly.

You glared at her, trying to mask your panic with sarcasm. "Yeah, well, they usually do! Maybe your nose is broken, ever think of that?"

Her smirk widened. "Not broken. Just better."

You wanted to disappear into the dirt, but instead, you did the next best thing: you bolted.

Well, you tried to bolt.

Before you could take two steps, Sevika’s arm shot out, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up like you weighed nothing.

"Alright, that’s enough of that," she muttered, slinging you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down! you walking brick wall!" you yelled, pounding your fists uselessly against her back.

"Not a chance, princess," she shot back, starting to walk.

Hours later, you were still fuming as Sevika dragged you through the forest. She’d barely said a word, aside from the occasional grunt when you tried to squirm out of her grip.

"Seriously, where are you even taking me?" you asked, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

"You'll see," she said gruffly.

When you finally arrived, you stopped dead in your tracks. Rising out of the forest was the biggest tree you’d ever seen, its massive branches weaving into the sky. High above the ground, nestled in its boughs, was an actual treehouse like something out of a Pinterest board.

The tree itself was ancient, its thick trunk twisted and gnarled like something out of a fantasy novel. Surrounding the base was a wide steel fence reinforced with scrap metal, forming a protective barrier from the undead...

Inside the fence, small vegetable gardens thrived Clotheslines stretched between makeshift poles, drying laundry in the sun. Wooden platforms spiraled up the trunk, leading to a sprawling treehouse nestled high in the canopy.

This wasn’t some rickety shack it was a stronghold filled with community of survivors.

"Welcome home," Sevika said, glancing back at you with a smirk.

"Home?" you echoed, your brain short-circuiting. "This is your hideout? What are you, a Disney princess?"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing your arm and hauling you up the rope ladder that led to multiple rooms in the tree house. "Call it whatever you want. It’s safe."

Sevika explained as she guided you closer, her tone gruff but proud, "Most of us here are Betas. A few Alphas and Omegas too. We all do what we can to keep this place running."

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, crossing your arms as you turned to face her.

long silence...as she led you to her room in the tree house which was small and cozy...filled with stuff that might be gotten from scavenging.

Sevika leaned against the wall, crossing her own arms as she looked at you. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her gaze softened, and the cocky smirk slipped just slightly.

"Because you wouldn’t last a week out there," she said finally. "And because…" She hesitated, her eyes flicking to yours. "Iam just going to breed you." ....she said a bit bluntly but hesitantly..like she was hiding the truth.

Your cheeks warmed as she stepped closer, her towering frame making you feel tiny. Her hand brushed a stray hair from your face, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

"You’re trouble," Sevika murmured, her voice low and almost… gentle. "But you’re mine now."

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

more pirate art and mermaid reader please please please!!!

Pirate!Art Donaldson x Mermaid!Reader meeting for the first time

Pirate! Art always goes to the same spot every night to catch a glimpse of you for weeks since he last spotted you. His friends think he’s crazy claiming that what he’s searching for is cursed not meant to be discovered by those who walk on land.

Patrick insists that it’s the rum he drinks whenever they go out late at night it brings out all the fantasies he hasafter having one too many pints of rum while gambling coins away stating that Art's wasting his time, "you should be focusing on pussy above sea level” Patrick grunts almost toppling over the blonde boy the smell of alcohol and sour musk making art cringe "and you need a bath jesus" he shoves Patrick off of him.

Art is completely undeterred.

It’s the same process tonight slowly walk up the wooden steps from below deck making sure not to wake the sleeping men hanging from their hammocks and make shift cots. He silently walks across the deck and jump off the ship sprinting down towards the shore, he sits and waits on the dock gazing towards the open ocean until he hopefully sees you.

He almost gives up when It's past midnight but stops in his tracks when something bobs up and down on the horizon, small ripples on the surface of the murky water meeting sand.

His throat feels tight when he spots the mysterious creature that's been leaving gifts for him, a woman, you. Absolutely beautiful in every way glowing under the moonlight your scales glimmering different hues of blue and green under the surface.

you flinch the minute his feet give way on the wooden planks Art's heart stops not wanting you to escape. This was the first time he'd ever seen you and he refuses to fuck this up.

"wait." He whispers raising his hands in surrender "I'm not going to hurt you just please-" his voice cracks "don't leave.." he begs. He feels pathetic realizing how desperate he sounds the entire crew wouldn't let him live down how whipped he is but he doesn't give a damn, he's been craving you for so long.

it takes all of you not to swim away he can tell, to dive back into the watery depths but you'd been fantasizing for so long too. Watching him move about the ship hidden behind rocks or below the belly of the ship. It made you feel like a creep at first, stalking a man who might actually be terrified of you and your condition but your crush pushes down your worries.

you find the courage to mumble a soft "hi.." it makes Art's heart soar.

"What's your name?" He asks voice barely above a whisper thinking how this is too good to be true.

You quietly mumble your name swimming closer "what about you?" you ask.

"Art, I'm Art." He mutters absolutely mesmerized. He laughs at how ludicrous this is the mermaids actually exist.. he might be in love with a mermaid.

The action makes you wary "why.. are you making fun of me?" You furrow your brows drifting back not realizing it was from a place of admiration and awe

"no, no way never!" he stammers "just.. I never thought this would happen.. they all said I was crazy. Patricks going to flip out." He rambles.

You've heard that name "Patrick? the the crude one?" you chuckle.

Art's jaw drops, you've been watching me.. us?"

you nod meekly "I've been leaving all my treasures.. I hope it wasn't too forward." you wince the idea of turning him off.

"it's the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.." he smiles softly reassuring you, "except for when Patrick let me win that one sparing match for a prize but that's another conversation" he rants

"is he your lover? Patrick?" you question cocking your head curiously, trying to tamper down any jealousy you feel

"no just friends.. we've done stuff but um it's normal guys just being friends" Art blushes it's endearing "nice guy's being friends" you snicker, "I have a friend like that too.. Tashi she's perfect" you gush.

It throws Art off bubbling sense of ownership making him feel guilty, you're not an object to keep 'Tashi' his face sours

"but she's not you!" you shake your head consoling him "no one could ever be you.." He smirks a little bit of cockiness bubbling inside him you like him too the idea getting to his head.

panic sets in as the sky begins to lighten "I need to go, I'm sorry" you sputter the onslaught of sadness hitting you in waves, leaving him here crushing your heart

"how can I see you again I need to see you please." Art rushes forward into the water

your brain clambers for any ideas when something pops up, "here" you hand over an old conch shell covered in seaweed and barnacles he glances up confused.

"Speak into it and I will hear you." you clarify "I will come when I can"

you reach out and take hold of his fingers in your webbed hands a relieved sigh leaves Art's lips as he closes his eyes, actual heaven. He hears a splash and opens them just as quick staring at open waves as if you were never there.

[ailoda]

updated: 24.01.25

˚☽˚.⋆ angst

Pahinga (✧): Remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. (@foodiegoogie)

Temper (❤❅): Remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon. (@kquil)

Draw Scars Around My Scar (❅): many weeks had passed since the most recent full moon, yet James and Sirius still won’t let you see Remus. What could they be hiding? (@chxrryhxrt)

↪︎ Part Two (✧)

Blood Quill (✧): Remus can smell blood on you. (@jasmines-library)

Back To December (✧): Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it. (@ur-local-anti-hero)

Alive and True (❅): having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. (@nincompoopydoo)

Think Like A Lupin (❅✧): your parents are planning to marry you off the second after you graduate, but after an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf, plans change. (@unconventional-lawnchair) (warning: themes of ptsd aligning with assault, abusers doing abusing)

It's Nice To Have A Friend (❅): "no one loves a monster like me.", "I do." (@jamespottersdaisy)

Lost and Found (❤❅✧): you and Remus Lupin had a crush on each other ever since you were students at Hogwarts but never had the courage to even speak. You spend the next 20 years living your separate lives, you as an Auror, and he, just surviving. Unable to live under the stress of your profession anymore, you retire and start teaching at Hogwarts, still hoping to fill the void Remus had left behind. In September 1993, everything changes. (@lupinmoonlight)

Will You Marry Me? (❤❅): 5 times remus has asked you to marry him and 1 extra. (@perpetuallydaydreaming)

[a-deceptive-calling]

CW | GORE, BODY HORROR SPRINGTRAP REDESIGN

This took me like, 3 something hours lol I made this as both a general Springtrap redesign, and specifically for A Deceptive Calling. I borrowed some features of my Nightmare Springtrap Redesign for certain parts, otherwise I will be explaining more of my thought process per usual. 1. Added more skeletal features, as I felt the original FNAF 3 design lacked it, and that Scraptrap looks hideous as hell. One thing in particular was getting rid of his animatronic eyes and just leaving the eye sockets black. I took some inspo from the Reaper Leviathan in Subnautica, where if you can hear it, it can see you. Springtrap is similar with his signature breathing ambiance as he is already a sound based animatronic. 2. Around several parts of his body are exposed Springlocking mechanisms that are typically hidden underneath the suit, but its deteriorating condition has exposed them, leading them to rust in the damp environment of the saferoom. Using the hand-crank, the rings coil back into the frame of the suit allowing for someone to enter it, but snapping shut through failure, metal cares not for soft flesh and organs. Kept the springlock bloodstains too, just for fun

3. So, about those ankle gut things. I changed it to be Afton's surviving intestines which he wrapped around his feet as a morbid decoration out of sheer boredom. I mean, what else are you gonna do stuck in the back of a saferoom for 30 Years? You can also see some strands of flesh dangling from his ribcage and mid section, as I'd like to imagine that his organs hidden underneath the suit were insulated from immediate decay... However, his surviving organs are definitely rotten and smell HORRIFIC.

So yeah definitely went overkil

[luckymilkshakerebel]

So Good

Genre: A Story of Love, Anxiety, and Redemption

Cast: hyunjin x female reader

Inspired - hyunjin - so good

---

Hyunjin stood in the center of the school’s crowded hallway, his heart pounding against his ribs like a drum in a marching band. It was the final week of his senior year, and everything about this place—the lockers with chipped paint, the faint smell of floor cleaner, and the echo of hurried footsteps—felt too familiar and suffocating. His anxious thoughts buzzed like static in his brain.

He had spent most of his school years blending into the background, content with being a shadow. But in these past few months, things had started to shift. It was all because of her.

Y/n was the kind of person who radiated light. Her laugh carried across the room, making even the most mundane moments feel alive. Y/n was a storm of energy, unafraid to challenge the world, and Hyunjin couldn’t understand why someone like her had chosen to befriend someone like him. But she had. And that single act had begun to chip away at the fortress of anxiety he had built around himself.

Hyunjin clutched the small envelope in his hand. He had spent weeks drafting the letter inside, agonizing over every word. It wasn’t just a letter; it was his heart, raw and unfiltered, a message to the girl who had taught him how to breathe again.

The plan was simple: slide it into her locker, leave before she arrived, and never speak of it again. But as he approached her locker, the weight of his own fears pressed down on him. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything?

Taking a deep breath, Hyunjin reminded himself of something Lena had once told him during one of their late-night talks. “You have to let go of the what-ifs, Hyunjin. Life is too short to let fear hold you back.”

Before he could overthink, he slipped the envelope into Y/n locker and walked away, his heart racing like he’d just run a marathon.

---

Y/n found the letter after lunch. She recognized Hyunjin’s handwriting immediately—small, neat, and deliberate. Y/n opened it carefully, her eyes scanning the words as her smile grew wider with every sentence.

By the end of the letter, her heart felt like it might burst. Hyunjin, the quiet boy with the soulful eyes and hidden depths, had poured out his feelings in a way that was both poetic and raw. It wasn’t just a confession; it was a promise—a promise to let go of the anxiety that had haunted him for so long and to embrace the life he wanted to live.

Y/n knew she couldn’t let this moment pass. She had seen the potential in Hyunjin from the start, but this letter proved that he was ready to see it in himself.

---

The next day, Y/n found Hyunjin sitting under the oak tree in the school courtyard, his usual hiding spot. Y/n approached him with purpose, holding the letter in her hand.

“You’re braver than you think,” Y/n said, her voice soft but steady.

Hyunjin looked up at her, his cheeks flushed. “You read it?”

“I did,” she replied, sitting down beside him. “And I think it’s beautiful.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind rustled the leaves above, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

“I meant every word,Y/n” Hyunjin finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I know. And I want you to know that I feel the same.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. He had spent so long doubting himself, convinced that he wasn’t enough. But in that moment, with Lena’s hand in his, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was.

---

Graduation came and went in a blur. The days of high school slipped through Hyunjin’s fingers like sand, but he didn’t feel the usual pang of regret or fear. Instead, he felt something new: excitement.

With Y/n by his side, he began to embrace the world beyond the walls of their small-town school. Together, they explored the city, tried new foods, and chased sunsets. Lena introduced him to art galleries and live music, and Hyunjin taught her the joy of quiet moments, like reading under a blanket of stars.

But it wasn’t always easy. There were still days when anxiety clawed at Hyunjin’s chest, threatening to pull him under. On those days, Lena would remind him of his strength.

“Your anxiety doesn’t define you,” Y/n would say. “You’re so much more than your fears.”

And slowly but surely, Hyunjin began to believe Y/n.

---

One night, as they sat on the rooftop of an old apartment building, Y/n turned to Hyunjin with a mischievous grin.

“I have an idea, hyunjin” Y/n said.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Maybe,” Y/n teased. “But it’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

The next morning, Y/n dragged him to a dance studio. Hyunjin had always admired Y/n’s dancing from afar, but he had never imagined himself trying it.

“Dancing is freedom,” Y/n explained as they stepped onto the polished wooden floor. “It’s about letting go and just feeling.”

At first, Hyunjin was hesitant. His movements were awkward and stiff, his self-consciousness holding him back. But Y/n was patient, guiding him with gentle encouragement.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “Stop thinking and just move.”

And for the first time in a long time, Hyunjin let go. The music washed over him, and he allowed his body to move without fear of judgment. By the end of the session, he was laughing—really laughing—as he spun Y/n around the room.

---

Months turned into years, and Hyunjin’s life transformed in ways he never thought possible. He and Y/n moved to the city, where they pursued their dreams with unrelenting passion. Hyunjin found his voice through dance, using it as an outlet to express the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

Y/n became his biggest supporter, cheering him on at every performance. And in return, Hyunjin became her anchor, reminding her to slow down and appreciate the quiet moments.

Their love was far from perfect, but it was real. They faced their struggles together, learning and growing with each challenge.

---

One evening, as they stood on the balcony of their apartment, watching the city lights twinkle like stars, Hyunjin turned to Y/n.

“I used to think that my anxiety and bad luck would hold me back forever,” he said. “But you showed me that life is so much bigger than my fears.”

Y/n smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “And you’ve shown me that even the quietest people can have the loudest hearts.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Hyunjin realized that he wasn’t the same person he had been back in high school. He had left behind the shadows of anxiety and misfortune, stepping into a life filled with color, music, and love.

And it was so good.

[widowromanova]

Sniper (Part 4) - Natasha x Female reader

warnings: slight violence, smut

word count: 6759

The rooftop was silent except for the distant hum of the city below. You stayed there for a moment longer, gripping the edge of the railing as if holding on could somehow bring her back. But it couldn’t.

Your breath came out in uneven bursts, the adrenaline starting to wane, leaving only the ache of her absence. Again. The memory of her red hair streaking through the wind seared into your mind.

Then her words echoed back, sharp and unrelenting: Things change.

A rush of determination surged through you. This wasn’t over. Natasha didn’t leave loose ends, and she certainly didn’t come to that rooftop tonight just to disappear.

No, she wanted you to follow her. You pushed yourself away from the edge and adjusted the strap of your gear. Whatever game she was playing, you were done hesitating. If Natasha wanted to draw you into her web, you’d follow - but on your terms.

As you descended the stairs of the building, the familiar tension in your chest began to harden into resolve. You replayed every word, every movement, searching for clues. The gala rooftop wasn’t random. It was deliberate. There had to be a reason she chose this place to confront you - and to vanish.

By the time you reached the street, the cool night air had sharpened your focus. You didn’t have much to go on, but you knew Natasha.

You tightened your coat around you and set off into the city. One step closer to finding her. As you walked through the streets, your mind raced with possibilities. Where would she go? Then, like a lightning strike, it hit you - the safehouse.

It was a relic from a time when trust had been implicit between you, before everything unraveled. The small, nondescript apartment on the edge of the city had been your shared sanctuary, hidden from prying eyes. Neither SHIELD nor anyone else knew about it, and for a while, it had felt like the only place in the world where the two of you could truly breathe.

Your pace quickened as the memory came flooding back: the mismatched furniture, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air, and the way Natasha would sit cross-legged on the floor, absentmindedly dismantling and reassembling weapons while you tried to convince her to take a break.

You hadn’t thought about the safehouse in years, but now it seemed like the only place that made sense. If she was leading you anywhere, it had to be there.

You returned to your apartment first. You couldn’t go to her empty-handed - not this time. If Natasha had taught you anything, it was to be prepared, to think two steps ahead.

The room was silent when you entered, the faint hum of the city outside barely registering. Your eyes swept over the space as you moved with purpose toward the hidden compartment beneath your bed. You hadn’t opened it in years, but you knew exactly what was inside.

Sliding the compartment open, you reached in and pulled out a small, unassuming black case. Inside was the device. It was SHIELD tech, highly experimental, designed specifically to counteract enhanced abilities or nullify even the most skilled opponents. It worked like an EMP, but instead of disrupting electronics, it disrupted neural pathways temporarily, effectively incapacitating the target.

Natasha wouldn’t see it coming.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the device. This was now about finding the person in her that you used to know. You slid the device into your jacket pocket, its presence a weight.

As you stood, your gaze flicked to the corner of your desk, where an old photo frame sat. It was one of the few things you hadn’t thrown away - a picture of the two of you from years ago, back when things had been simpler.

You picked it up, studying her face. The smile, the way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. The Natasha in this photo was a world apart from the woman you’d faced tonight. Sliding the photo out of the frame, you tucked it into your other pocket. Not for her - no, this was for you. A reminder of what was at stake. With a steadying breath, you grabbed your gear and headed out the door, your mind already focused.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the city, the dim glow from the morning sun started to appear. The streets grew quieter as you neared the old building. The safehouse was tucked away on the third floor, its faded brick exterior blending seamlessly into the neighbourhood. You hesitated at the entrance, your hand hovering over the doorframe as you steeled yourself.

The lock was newer than you remembered, a subtle sign that someone had been here recently. Natasha. Of course, she’d updated it. You pulled out your tools, your hands steady despite the adrenaline surging through you. The lock gave way with a quiet click, and you pushed the door open cautiously.

The interior was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight. It smelled faintly of dust, mixed with something sharper - gun oil, maybe. The layout was almost exactly as you remembered it: the small kitchen to the left, the couch you’d both hated but never replaced, and the table where countless plans had been scribbled onto napkins and scraps of paper.

But it wasn’t just the memory of the place that hit you - it was the realisation that she had been here, recently. A half-empty glass of water sat on the counter. The faintest imprint of her boots on the dusty floor. And then you saw it: the box.

Sitting on the table, a plain wooden box, its lid slightly ajar. Your stomach tightened as you approached it, your hands brushing against the smooth surface. Inside were photos - pictures of the two of you. Moments you’d thought were long buried.

She’d taken them. Not stolen, but preserved. Why?

You flipped through them, your throat tightening with each one. The two of you at the safehouse, her leaning on your shoulder, you laughing at something she’d said. Another from a mission, her smirk caught perfectly in the frame.

Beneath the photos was a slip of paper. You unfolded it, the words scrawled in her unmistakable handwriting:

"Not yet. You’ll know when."

The message left you reeling. You clenched the note in your fist, your resolve hardening. If she wanted to keep pulling you into her game, you’d follow her lead. But this time, you wouldn’t hesitate.

The safehouse felt oppressive now, its familiarity twisted into something unsettling. You turned, scanning the room for anything else she might have left behind. Your gaze landed on the couch, and for a moment, you could almost see her sitting there, legs tucked beneath her, a knowing smirk on her lips as if she had predicted your every move.

You paced to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain just enough to peer out into the quiet street below. The faint glow of dawn had given way to full daylight, the city starting to stir. Natasha was out there somewhere.

Was she trying to test your loyalty, your resolve, or was there some part of her that still wanted you to understand? To see the reasons behind her actions?

You turned back to the table, your eyes falling on the box again. The photos were a stark contrast to the woman you faced now. They showed moments of vulnerability, of trust, of something real.

The weight of the device in your pocket brought you back to the present. It was a contingency plan, a last resort. But even as you’d taken it, you knew you didn’t want to use it - not unless there was no other choice.

With one last glance around the safehouse, you moved to the door. You’d learned all you could here. The note was clear enough: Natasha wasn’t done with you yet, and she wanted you to keep looking. But if you were going to find her, you’d need to anticipating her next move before she made it. If there was a part of Natasha still worth saving, you had to believe she was leading you to it.

You stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you. The quiet click of the lock felt like you were leaving the past behind - again. But this time, you weren’t chasing memories; you were chasing her.

And you wouldn’t stop until you caught up.

You exited the building, stepping onto the quiet street as the sun crept higher into the sky. The city was waking up, the hum of traffic and distant chatter pulling you back into the present. You pulled your coat tighter, both reassuringly and suffocatingly.

You moved with purpose, blending into the crowd as you retraced steps you hadn’t walked in years. Natasha’s note had been vague, but her choice of location wasn’t random. If she wanted you to find her, she’d leave a trail.

The first stop wasn’t the obvious one. It was the nearby café where the two of you used to meet during missions, a quiet corner of the city where secrets were exchanged over bitter coffee. The thought was almost laughable now - how many times had she teased you for always ordering the same thing?

The café hadn’t changed much. The smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted you as you stepped inside, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. You scanned the room, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes landed on the corner table. It was empty now, but the memory of her sitting there, her red hair catching the light as she leaned in close to whisper something only for you, was vivid.

You approached the table, your eyes darting to the small notepad left for customers to write reviews or messages. It was a long shot, but Natasha had a flair for theatrics. Flipping through the pages, you found nothing out of the ordinary - until you reached the very last page.

Scrawled in the corner was a simple line: "Close, but not quite."

Your grip tightened on the edge of the notepad as frustration bubbled up. She was toying with you, but at least you were on the right track.

You left the café, your mind working furiously. If she’d been here, she couldn’t have gone far. Natasha was deliberate in everything she did. The safehouse, the note, the café - they weren’t just breadcrumbs.

Your next destination was clear: the alley behind the café, where you used to slip away unnoticed. It was a spot you both knew well, a place where conversations had been had in hushed tones.

As you stepped into the alley, the air grew colder, the shadows stretching long against the brick walls. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingered, though you knew Natasha didn’t smoke. Your eyes scanned the area, every nerve on edge. Then, tucked into the crevice of a windowsill, you saw it: a small, folded piece of paper.

You unfolded it carefully, the faint imprint of her handwriting making your heart clench.

"You’re getting warmer."

The cryptic message struck a chord. You could almost hear her voice in the words, playfully laced with a smirk.

You folded the note and slipped it into your pocket. With determination, you made your way through the city streets. It was almost instinctual now, the way you moved, the way you searched for where she’d be.

You had been there before, a small, forgotten alley hidden behind a set of old warehouses on the outskirts of the city. The perfect spot for her to challenge you.

The alley was quiet, the air thick with the scent of old machinery and smoke. You walked further in, scanning your surroundings. At first, nothing seemed out of place—until you noticed the torn edge of a scrap of paper caught in the corner of a rusted fence. You grabbed it quickly, unfolding it with urgency.

"Come on... obviously I wouldn't make it this easy."

The note sent a surge of irritation through you. You gritted your teeth, crumpling the piece of paper in your fist. It angered you that the plan she had for you to follow her was working. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. She'd want you to be angry, to let your emotions guide you. That's why the notes were so carefully crafted, an intricate mix of challenge and mockery. Natasha's smugness practically dripped from the words.

You stood there for a moment, your pulse still running high from the chase, but a wave of exhaustion slowly started to settle over you. Your feet felt heavier as you turned back, the alley stretching ahead of you in the growing dark. The distant sounds of the city, once a comfort, now felt more like an oppressive weight. You weren't sure if you were ready to keep going, if you even could.

As you walked, the light of the fading day grew dimmer, the air cooler, and the streets less crowded. The more you thought about finding hr, the more you realised how little you had left to go on.

Eventually, your pace slowed, and the anger you’d felt earlier was replaced with something quieter. The irritation began to bleed out of you, and what replaced it was a sense of helplessness.

By the time you reached the familiar bridge that led home, you realised you were done for the night. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows on the pavement. You tugged your collar up against the evening chill, your thoughts scattered, and continued forward, the hum of the city now distant enough that you could hear the sound of your own breath.

And then, a small sound - a rock skittering across the ground.

You stopped in your tracks, heart skipping a beat. Slowly, you turned, the sudden shift in the air making your senses sharpen. There, standing a few feet away in the half-light, was Natasha. Her presence was unmistakable, like she’d been waiting for you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt heavy. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, almost quiet. "Is that it then, Y/N?"

Her eyes met yours, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. You could feel the challenge crackling between you.

You didn’t answer right away. What was there to say? Instead, you took a breath and let the silence hang for just a moment longer.

"Where are we going with this?" you asked, your voice steady despite the way your pulse was quickening. "What do you want, Natasha?"

She didn’t answer immediately, just stared at you for a long beat. Then, her lips curved into that same small, knowing smile. "Maybe I want you to figure it out."

Her words lingered in the cool night air. You stared at her.

"You always did like making things complicated," you said, your voice sharp, betraying the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Why now? You could’ve ended it all already."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if savouring the tension. "Maybe I didn’t want it to end," she replied softly, taking a step closer. "Maybe I wanted to see how far you'd go. You always did surprise me."

The distance between you shrank with each step she took, and yet, it felt like she was miles away. You stayed rooted to the spot, not letting her be the only one to move.

"I could’ve walked away," you said, your tone low. "But I didn’t. So what now, Natasha?"

She came to a stop, just inches from you. Her eyes never left yours. “This isn’t a game, Y/N. Never has been.”

"Then what are we doing?" you asked. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, and for just a second, you thought she might say something, but she didn’t.

Instead, she stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. "You’ll know soon enough."

Then, without waiting for a response, she took a step back, her gaze still steady on you, leaving you standing there.

"Why now?" you asked, breaking the silence, your voice more vulnerable than you intended.

Her lips curled, but there was no humour in it. "Because you’re here," she said simply, the answer almost too casual for the weight of the moment. "And you always follow the trail."

Your chest tightened, the sharp sting of realization hitting you. She was right. You had been following, hadn’t you? Every note, every cryptic word—this whole chase—it had all been because you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to understand her. Even when you knew you shouldn’t.

"You never make things easy," you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Natasha’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second, like a glimpse of something more familiar, something closer to the woman you once knew. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable mask.

"It's not supposed to be," she said, her voice low. "That’s how it works."

You looked at her, the questions swirling in your mind, but you didn’t ask. Not yet. Instead, you took a breath, trying to ground yourself.

"Where do we go from here?" you finally asked.

Her gaze flicked to the city skyline in the distance, and for a moment, she seemed far away. "We keep moving forward," she said softly, the words heavy with some unspoken meaning. "Because I have no other choice, Y/N."

And then she turned, her silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the night.

The night seemed colder now. The tension from just moments ago had dissipated, but the uncertainty remained, gnawing at you like an unhealed wound.

You wanted to chase after her, to demand answers, to understand what the hell she meant by everything. But something inside you held back - an old instinct, the same one that had warned you before.

Some days had passed, many spent wallowing in your apartment trying to decode everything she had ever done or said to you. The walk back to your apartment on this day felt longer than ever, every person reminding her of you - you had stopped by the café to experience your warm memories again. Maybe for the last time.

The sound of your footsteps echoed in the still night. It was then that you heard it - a low hum, the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling up behind you.

You turned instinctively, but before you could react, the car came into view, its headlights cutting through the darkness.

The car stopped in front of you, the engine dying with a soft sputter. The door opened, and there she was - Natasha, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the car screen. Her eyes met yours across the distance, unreadable, calm.

"Did you really think I was done with you?" she asked, her voice quiet.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. Instead, you just watched her, trying to read her expression. Her body language was relaxed, but you knew better than to trust that. Natasha never let her guard down fully.

"Where are we going, Natasha?" you finally asked, your voice steady despite the way your pulse had quickened.

She stepped forward, the car door still ajar behind her. "You’ll see," she replied, her lips curling into that familiar, enigmatic smile. You stepped forward, toward her, knowing that walking away now wasn’t an option.

The interior of the car smelled faintly of leather and gun oil, a subtle reminder of the world you and Natasha both inhabited. As you slid into the passenger seat, she moved with practiced ease, shutting the door behind her and taking the wheel.

The engine roared to life, and she pulled the car onto the road without a word. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the weight of questions you couldn’t ask and answers you weren’t ready to hear. The glow of the city lights streaked across her face, accentuating the sharp angles and the shadows that seemed to cling to her.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you broke it. "This feels familiar," you said, your voice cutting through the hum of the engine.

Natasha’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Some things don’t change," she replied, her tone almost amused.

You turned to face her, studying her profile. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened for just a fraction of a second, a movement so small you might have missed it if you weren’t watching her so closely. "Not everything has to," she said after a moment.

She was always like this - just enough honesty to keep you hooked, but never enough to give you clarity.

The car slowed as she pulled into a desolate stretch of road, flanked by crumbling warehouses and overgrown lots. The city’s glow faded behind you, replaced by the stark stillness of the outskirts.

She parked the car and turned off the engine, leaving you both in the silence of the night. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then she turned to face you, her eyes piercing in the dim light.

"Do you remember the first time we were here?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

You frowned, glancing around. The place looked vaguely familiar, but the memory eluded you. Natasha chuckled, noticing your confusion. "Relax," she said, a hint of the old familiarity creeping back into her tone. She nodded towards the glove compartment, gesturing for you to open it. You obliged, the old leather creaking under your fingers as you flipped up the lid. Inside was the familiar sight of a sleek handgun, resting atop a stack of old maps. But beneath the map, your eyes caught sight of something else: a faded photo.

You pulled it out carefully, your fingers tracing the edges as you studied the picture. The photo showed the two of you, younger and carefree. The backdrop was a familiar city alley, the old brick wall still standing in the same spot. Neither of you were looking at the camera; instead, you were leaning close to each other, each wearing a cocky smirk.

It had been taken years ago during your time in SHIELD. You remembered that day clearly; the mission to infiltrate a rival organization's headquarters had gone smoothly, but the adrenaline from the success had led to a moment of carelessness. You remembered standing in the abandoned alleyway, the thrill of success still coursing through your veins. It was then that Natasha had pulled out her phone and snapped the shot.

Memories came flooding back as you stared at the image. You could feel the rough texture of the brick wall against your back, the cold night air on your skin. And there was Natasha, her arm slung casually around your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned to look at her, seeing the subtle change in her expression. Her eyes were fixed on the photo, a mixture of nostalgia and something softer flitting across her features.

Without looking away, she spoke. "We had it all mapped out back then, didn't we?" she mused.

You looked back down at the photo, not saying anything. Natasha studied your face for a moment, the silence stretching between you like a taut rope. Finally, she spoke again.

"We were reckless," she said, almost more to herself than to you. Her gaze drifted back to the photo, a faint smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Always pushing boundaries. You remember that time we decided to go deep undercover in that mob hangout without any backup?"

Her tone was casual, but there was a spark in her eyes that betrayed her memory of that night. You remained silent for a while, running your thumb across the photo, "We're still reckless, Nat."

Natasha's expression dropped momentarily before saying, "There's things that have to be done, Y/N." She turned away from the photo, looking down at the cuts on her hands. In the dim light of the car, Natasha's face looked almost gaunt, etched with lines that hadn't been there before.

You studied her in the silence, seeing hints of the woman you used to know beneath the mask she now wore. But there was also a coldness in her eyes.

"They don't have to be done like this, Nat." That use of her name made her eyes dilate ever so slightly. She didn't look at you, but you saw the stiffening of her shoulders. Neither of you spoke for several moments, the words hanging heavy in the air. She was the first to break the quiet.

"You always were too soft." Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She placed her hands on the wheel, turning her head at you, "How should they be done then, Y/N?"

There was a challenge in her gaze, as if she was daring you to answer.

"There's always another way." You kept your voice soft. Natasha let out a dry laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet car, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the wheel. She drove the car further towards the warehouse before suddenly stopping outside its large gate. She stepped out of the car, leaning down to peer into the car.

"You know that's not true," she said, "there's no room for 'another way' in our line of work, Y/N."

You followed her lead, stepping out of the car into the cold night air. The old warehouse loomed before you, its shadowy form a stark contrast against the faded glow of the city lights. You knew she was right, you'd both seen the darker side of the world.

The wind bit at your skin as you closed the car door behind you, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness. Natasha was already walking toward the warehouse, each step crunching softly on the gravel beneath her boots. You hesitated for a moment, staring at her back, before following.

"You say there's no room," you called after her, your voice cutting through the quiet. "But you’re here, Natasha. So what does that mean?"

She stopped just short of the warehouse's rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer, that she’d let the silence be her reply. But then, without turning, she spoke.

"It means I wanted to see if you’d follow." Her tone was even.

You stepped closer, the chill of the night forgotten. "And what if I hadn’t?"

She glanced over her shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, but her eyes betrayed no humour. "Then I’d have my answer."

The implication stung more than it should have. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "And now that you do?"

Natasha turned fully to face you, her expression unreadable. "Now we find out if you’re ready for what comes next."

She pushed the door open with a loud groan, the sound echoing into the dark expanse beyond. The warehouse was dimly lit by flickering overhead lights, casting long, distorted shadows on the concrete floor. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint tang of rust.

You followed her inside, your footsteps echoing softly. "You’ve always been good at the cryptic act," you said, your voice low but sharp. You stopped, the echo of your boots ceasing. "I’m tired of guessing, Natasha. What’s this really about?"

She stopped in the centre of the room, her arms crossed as she regarded you. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch. Then, finally, she spoke.

"It’s about us, Y/N," she said, her voice softer now. "It’s about what we’ve done. How we've both changed."

The weight of her words settled over you, heavy and inescapable. "And what’s your solution?" you asked, keeping your tone even. "We walk in and make peace with it all?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away. "No," she said quietly. "We decide if it’s worth fighting for."

You stared at her, trying to reconcile the woman in front of you with the one you thought you knew. "And what if it is?"

Her gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and searching. "Then you’ll have to prove it," she said, a challenge laced in her tone.

Silence fell between you again, the only sound the steady drip of water somewhere in the shadows. She looked away, her eyes fixed on the dust-covered machinery that had once been in operation. Finally, you spoke again.

"How do I prove it?"

Her head tilted slightly at the question, her gaze flickering back to you. She seemed almost amused by your directness. "Impatient as always," she mused.

She moved, circling a stack of metal crates in the corner, her footsteps echoing off the bare concrete walls. There was a pause as she traced her fingers along the rusted surface, as if she were deep in memory. You waited, the silence stretching around you. Then she spoke, still facing away from you.

"We start with one question," she said, her tone measured. "Do you trust me?"

You used to. But the years of secrets you had shared had built a barrier between the two of you that felt like miles in the dark. She turned to face you, her eyes locking on yours across the room. The distance felt even longer under her stare, her face still a mask of neutrality no matter how much her hands betrayed her.

You dropped your head, unsure of how to respond. She scoffed at your silence, shaking her head.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. There was a hardness in her voice that you’d rarely heard before.

She moved again, pacing in a small circle around you. You stayed still, every nerve in your body on edge. She stopped, her face just inches away from yours. You could see each individual freckle on her skin under the dim warehouse lights, every line on her face as she studied you.

Natasha was so close you could feel her breath on your cheek, could see every flicker of thought behind her cool exterior. Then, in a voice barely more than a whisper, she asked,

"Do you trust me?"

The question hung in the air, each syllable almost painfully loud in your ears. You looked into her eyes, seeing the challenge there. She was asking for more than just an answer.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words lodged in your throat. You wanted to say yes. She continued to stare at you, waiting for your answer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered, "Why should I?"

Her gaze hardened for a moment, a spark of annoyance flashing across her face. "Because that's what partners do," she said, her voice a bit sharper than before.

You could see the frustration build in the set of her shoulders, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed under the light of the warehouse bulb. She wanted you to say yes. "We haven't been partners for a long time, Nat," you warily replied.

Her face was blank, expressionless as she processed your words. But you knew her well enough to see the tension in the way she held herself.

For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at you with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. Finally, her lips curled up into a bitter smile. "Fine," she said, her voice flat. "Then what are we?"

You took a step towards her, unable to keep yourself from closing the distance. Her eyes didn’t move from yours, but she stiffened at your approach. You studied her face, the hard lines and angles that were all too familiar. "We were colleagues once," you said, the words so soft you weren’t sure if she heard you as you took a step closer. "Then friends, then…" your voice drifted off, suddenly realising the pain you had felt at losing her.

"Then what, Y/N?" Natasha's expression looked more solemn now.

You swallowed, unsure of how to continue. But before you could speak, she spoke again, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the silence of the warehouse.

"We were a lot of things... weren't we." Her gaze met yours, that forest green burning into you. "We were good, Y/N." She took a step towards you, grabbing your hands to trace her thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. You shivered at the touch, feeling the rough callouses from years of fighting brush against your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just held each other's gaze as your hands remained in her warm hold. She didn't let go of your hands, simply continued to stare at them as if she could read something from the lines on your palm.

Eventually, she spoke, still tracing your knuckles. "Are you scared of me?"

Her voice was quiet but steady, her gaze flickering to your face for a moment before returning to your hands. You swallowed, "Never." She released your hands but didn't step back, still standing close enough that you felt the faint heat of her body.

Her eyes bore into yours, searching, assessing, as if she were trying to figure you out all over again. "You're lying," she said simply.

"I don't lie, Nat." You grabbed her face, crashing your lips into hers. She responded immediately, her hands clutching at your hips, pulling you flush against her body. You stumbled back towards a stack of crates, knocking a loose tool off the rusted metal as you went. She pushed you back into the corner, pinning you against the wall.

Her hands were everywhere, skimming under your shirt and across your skin, her mouth burning hot against your skin as she found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. You arched into her touch, a soft moan slipping out before you could stop it. She was relentless, fingers tracing down your side and leaving shivers in their wake.

You gasped as her mouth continued to burn across your throat, her teeth nipping at your skin. She hummed against your collarbone, the sound sending a wave of electricity down your spine. "You always did have a hard time keeping quiet," she murmured into your shoulder, her hands still moving restlessly over your body.

You grabbed her by the neck, spinning her around, "Just shut the fuck up for a minute, Nat." She let out a sharp exhale as you shoved her backwards against the crates, her hands clutching at your wrists in surprise. A sly smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as her back hit the metal. She chuckled, low and breathless. "There's the fire I remember."

You pressed into her, closing any distance between you. Your fingers tightened on her neck, feeling her pulse pounding against your palm.

"You don't get to do that," you whispered against her skin, every word a hot promise against the hollow of her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping her lips as you pressed yourself harder against her. She didn't respond, just tilted her head back to give you better access to her neck.

You nipped at her jawline, feeling her body shudder against your lips. She groaned, her hands gripping your hips. Then, her voice cut through the haze of desire.

"It's my turn."

Her words were like a switch. A low growl slipped through your lips as your body responded, your grip on her neck tightening. She took advantage of the moment, shifting against you and suddenly reversing your positions. Your back hit the crates with a thud, her body pressed against yours, her hands pinning yours above your head.

Her eyes locked with yours, a victorious glint in her gaze as she held you there. You struggled against her grip, but she didn't budge, her body keeping you firmly pinned in place. "Always fighting me," she murmured, her breath hot against your ear. Her grip on your wrists was steel, her nails digging into your skin as she pressed even closer.

Her lips traced the shell of your ear as she shifted her weight, pressing even harder against you, her thigh suddenly between your legs. An unsteady breath left your lips as you felt her hand slip past your waistline. Her touch was feather-light, slowly moving up your inner thigh. Her fingers traced the edge of your underwear, a teasing touch that sent a wave of heat through your body. Her breath was hot on your neck, her body still pressed tightly against yours.

You tried to arch into her touch, but her grip tightened on your wrists, pinning you even more firmly in place. Her hand continued its torturous journey down your thigh, every nerve ending on edge, waiting for her to go just a little lower. You let out a strangled gasp, your body quivering with need and frustration. She chuckled darkly at your reaction, her hand still continuing its maddening motion, her fingers tracing small patterns on the thin fabric between your legs.

"So needy," she whispered, her breath hot on your neck. She shifted against you, her thigh pressing firmly against your centre, adding a delicious friction to the heat that pooled between you. Her fingers dipped into your underwear.

"So wet." You whimpered at the sudden touch, your body arching off the metal beneath you. The air filled with the sounds of your gasped breaths as she finally, finally, touched you where you wanted her most. Her fingers slid through your slick folds, circling slowly but never quite giving you what you needed. She took her sweet time, moving at an infuriatingly slow pace as she teased every sensitive spot with knowing precision.

You bucked against her touch, begging without words for more. Your hips straining against her thigh, seeking the relief she was holding just out of reach. She held you there, pinned with her weight and her hands, as she continued her slow torment. Her thumb brushed lightly over your clit, just a brief, almost accidental touch, but it sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, making your body jerk against her in response. She chuckled again, the sound low and sultry. Her breath was hot against your ear.

"So responsive," she murmured against your neck. Her fingers teased again, one slipping just inside before withdrawing again. You let out a strangled moan, your hips trying to follow her retreating touch. She continued her slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers circling and brushing over you, bringing you close to the edge but never letting you quite reach it.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to muffle the gasps that escaped with each movement of her touch. Your body was writhing beneath hers, desperate for release, desperate for just a little bit more. For the final time, she brought you closer than ever before. You felt that familiar feeling building again, "Please, Natasha…" you let out breathily. She quickened her pace, making you groan loudly. "Please, don't stop." She then withdrew her hand, licking her fingers clean with an exacting smirk on her face.

You let out a frustrated groan, your body still trembling from the sudden loss of contact. She chuckled, enjoying the sight of you so helpless in her hands.

"So close," she murmured, leaning back to look at your flushed face. "Better luck next time." She chuckled. You groaned in frustration, your body still trembling from the denied release. You tried to pull your hands free from her grip, wanting to reach out and touch her, but she held firm.

She brought her other hand to your face, grabbing you by the chin, "You sit tight, Y/N." She firmly threw your pinned hands down, "I'll be back before you know it," she walked away from you with a wink.

"Where the fuck are you going?" you yelled after her.

She called back over her shoulder, her smirk evident in her voice. "Just taking care of business." And with that, she was gone, her footsteps echoing faintly through the empty warehouse.

You were left there, alone, panting and unsatisfied, her sudden departure leaving you feeling cold and empty. You brought your hand to your head, wiping the sweat off.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

a/n: hope that was not too long for you guys, part 5??? ;))

[the-fyre-flie]

The Death of The Damned

A Bruce Wayne VS His Own Mortality OneShot. A little long and sad, but please read below.

(TW for Heavy Topics and Death)

-

Bruce, broken and beaten. Alone and afraid for the first time in a long time. Bleeding, groaning, staggering through mazes of trees and ferns. His comms are busted. His ribs are busted. His head is pounding in agony, but he keeps going. Because if he stops, who will urge him to take one more step? Who will pick him up if he falls? Who will tell him to keep going even when his body gives up?

No one.

Each stumble past bushes and roots felt like his goal was getting further and further away. He had no idea where he was or where he was even going. He had been fighting a monster... a beast he couldn't even remember the name of now. His head was spinning, and his vision was blurring as he slid down a riverbank into the shallows, grunting in pain as his ribs hit a rock. It was his fault he got separated, he told himself. His fault. Always his fault. He should have planned better. How could he be so stupid? No one was here to save him from himself.

Red seeped into the crystal clear water, swirling and staining as it flowed downstream. Bruce trudged through the slow-moving current, not even sure why he was so determined on heading this way. All he was accomplishing was soaking himself and increasing his chance of death. The sky above was just barely visible beyond the trees, fading blue broken up by swaying branches. The rattle of wood was almost like a laugh. A cruel mockery of his situation.

If a bat dies in a forest, does anyone hear it scream?

How many times had Bruce carried the world on his back? How many times had he watched his loved ones die? Did he truly want to inflict that pain onto anyone else? The radio piece in his ears crackled as it attempted to desperately send out automated emergency signals. Gritting his teeth, Bruce tore off the cowl and stared down at it lying uselessly in the mud and leaflitter. Without the mask, he was as big a nobody as anyone else. A pathetic billionaire that cosplayed as a hero, a loser who tormented even his own child with unreasonable demands. A missiom far bigger than any one person could bear. His nails dug into the gravel and dirt of the riverbank, his body now bloody, wet, and cold. As his mind struggled to focus on anything other than his impending doom, he ran through old memories.

Dick, happily eating birthday cake the year after Bruce took him in. He smelled like frosting that whole night, a sweet smell that clung to his clothes and hair and skin. Bruce had never taken a photo that day. He swore he would, but it slipped his mind.

Jason, showing off a spelling bee test he got a B on. It wasn't perfect, his handwriting was sloppy, but it was hung on the fridge. It was probably tucked away in a box somewhere right now. He wished he hadn't hidden all of Jason's things away.

Tim, asleep at his desk. Bruce remembered having to carefully bring him to bed, tucking him in and cleaning up the cans of energy drinks that littered the space. He regretted not being as kind as he could have been for the boy. Now, he would never get the chance to apologize for making him grow up too fast.

Damian. His Damian. Years of lost time and all his horrible efforts to make it up to him. None of those memories were as sweet as he hoped they would be. Outings, gifts, toys, experiences, all tainted by a past he could never change, a trauma the boy would always carry. He had failed all of his children, but he failed Damian most of all.

It wasn't fair.

Bruce hadn't realized he was walking again. A slow shamble through the trees towards a setting sun. Oranges and purple washed through the greenery, casting Bruce's bloodied form in somber shades. The pain of a broken body was temporarily forgotten as he found himself standing on a cliff overlooking the woods. A sea of green and painted sky greeted him as he struggled to keep standing.

If you die, who will they turn to?

The thought echoed in his already failing mind. Around him, birds chirped, leaves rustled, and grass was pulled back and forth by a cool breeze. Night was falling, stars peaking out from behind streaky amber clouds. In the far distant, rain clouds were forming over the treetops, a dark sign of night showers. It was a ways away, and as Bruce slumped down into the soft grass beneath him, he awaited it's arival.

The world weeps for the innocent, the brave, and the damned.

[ravioliage]

That being said, I do love and adore all the hidden quests in this game. Necropolis is a blast with all the wisp friends and the stories they help unearth and how some just cause trouble. There is a theory that one of the bodies you find is Mourn Watch Rook's parent but I haven't gotten that far with my MW Rook to see it in game and draw own conclusions so aaaaaaa.

You also get Lucanis sighing VERY CALMLY when a wisp takes the bones you've found away.

Another lovely example is the finale to the Echo Demon in the crossroads that you find by just exploring. (How Spite says if you're romancing Lucanis(?) "Smells like. Rook." when approaching the demon who uses people's desires to lure them to their deaths unrelated. How deep must your pining for someone be for this to happen? Lucanis for the love of--)

It all rewards exploration and adventuring AND doesn't clog up your quest log with nonsense and in turn overwhelms you. It gives incentive to examine every corner to see if you can find a little adventure. :}

Also how every inch of the environment feels like a human being placed things there with care and not Frostbite Engine Generate Terrain Please.

i'm late because it took me forever to find out how to get the In Peace achievement

But the blatant confirmation that with enough care and belief for a better world and, of course, action to back it all up (that Rook has aplenty) you can turn back Despair Unyielding into Hope Unyielding was really beautiful. Before collecting the flowers, you can fight it. It is shrieking and lonely. Your companions mention how you should stay away.

but then it is shown that not all is lost.

i just really loved the whole quest with flowers and this moment being the end to it, kinda sad to see that it's one of the least earned achievements.

it's very small, but there is always hope as long as someone is willing to fight for it. hope is not given. things aren't restored by themselves. someone needs to do it.

i love Rook.

[sluggles-errands]

[Metallic clanging footsteps were loud in the next room, it sounded like someone throwing metal around, but like footsteps at the same time.]

[ @googoobert ]

Knowing no real sense of danger no matter the scratches or scrapes she’s gotten in the past, she was quick to check out the sounds after finding another odd trinket to add to her collection, although she was careful due to the loud noises.

She looked into the room, only to see… not much, really. She tilted her head back and forth from her place in the doorway to try and get a better ‘look’ but she still only saw a big moving box-y metal thing…. Weird.

[putagal]

is it gay to share a cigarette light? maybe, but it's just to save time yk ^_^

[actualbird]

sometimes i see tot posts or tweets where it was like "oh i thought i was gonna be in love with [specific nxx boy] only but then [other nxx boy] was my bias wrecker" and it makes me giggle because my experience was completely the opposite. even before the game came out on global, i Knew luke was for me.

[keeps-ache]

another day another consumption of vegetables

[lususnatura]

alright, but i don't mean to be blamore's hype woman here (actually... / j nah i'm kidding LOL well, mostly), but it honestly is amazing just how fresh he smells like ALL the time. like you'll never catch this plant-monster slacking whenever it comes to personal hygiene even though its body is, well... different now, for lack of better words. and i say that in neither a good way or a bad way because it's like i said on my other account, he is quite pretty — albeit in an arguably haunting way.

i can just imagine that the flora growing on it makes things harder for him to like take baths and stuff, so he probably just takes short showers and tries to at least partially cover them up in some way so they don't drown. but trust me when i say both his hair and the way he smells in general is HEAVENLY + very much like rain and sort of gives off an herbal scent as well because of the soap it uses tehe