#masking wasn't expected but it happened

[kindnessoverperfection]

wild how the more i'm working on recovery. the more i realize how fucking bad i miss her.

[negativepeanuthoarder]

I haven't brought this up because I don't want to ruin the good mood or the hype but is anyone else really anxious about the dralbum drop??? I feel the same way here like I did with the face reveal - like I'm bracing for a hate wave or for something bad to happen.

Idk maybe I'm just being irrational but I'm extremely worried about it and I figured I'd share just in case anyone else is.

[itoshikinozomu]

My therapist for about six months: Ok, well the problem is that I doubt you could really heal unless you take the medical leave, but I understand the process is stressful and uhm...

Me visibly larping eternal darkness on the nintendo game cube: perhaps, but I think I'm kinda fine right now because if I compare to when my life was shittier it's not as bad you see. Look "🙂" that's an okay doing emoji. Also the problem is that I'm not fully certain I'm actually eligible to medical life so I guess it'll be what it will be until it cannot be anymore. Teehee.

My therapist: ...hm...

[queeranarchism]

I think the left completely failed to form an effective covid-safety strategy.

First they failed by putting far too little effort into winning systematic changes (access to health care, access to paid sick leave, ventilation of work- and public spaces, etc) and putting most of the focus on individual behaviors that they could judge individuals for (vaccines and above all masking).

Their second failure was to then primarily rely on punitive pressure and scolding people to achieve that behavior. Which meant that this strategy only kind of worked a little when they had enough people to keep up that pressure. The moment that pressure wasn't enough anymore, most people stopped masking because they'd only even done it because of external pressure.

This left us with nothing. No systematic changes and no group safety.

At that point, the third failure was to change nothing once it became abundantly clear that these tactics weren't working. People wrote comics and long reads and video essays about the lack of solidarity of people who stopped masking, and while there was truth there, that didn't change anything.

Yet at no point did people take stock, re-assess and change strategy. To this day people are just doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. In fact, people seem to just double down. Where they talked about a range of safety measures in the past they've switched to only talking about masking. Where they used a range of tactics in the past, they've switched to only scolding.

And when you challenge them, the response is something like "But I am right, this is unjust, so people should change when I tell them it is unjust". But that's not a strategy. Creating societal change doesn't require being right, it requires having an effective plan on how to actually achieve real change.

And I don't have a full draft of what would make an effective strategy. I think unions could play a big role in achieving things paid sick leave and proper ventilation. But I don't have all the answers either. I think there needs to be an acknowledgement that what's currently happening isn't working, and that a new strategy is long overdue.

[konigsblog]

OCTOBER 7TH — STALKER!KÖNIG. You should've trusted your gut feeling. Now, you're chained to your bed inside of your own apartment, being bred relentlessly by a large, masked figure. (FORCED BREEDING, NON-CON)

2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 7)

König knew he was depraved and different from others, he'd been told his entire life. That was the motive behind his perversity and creepiness — he was revengeful and vindictive, despised when people had control while he had to fight for it. He knew it was morally wrong to expose and violate vulnerable women when they were least expecting it, to upskirt them for his own selfish sexual gratification. He longed for control and authority, to overpower and dominate a woman so that they'd be crying for him, begging him to stop. They'd do anything, call him their God or whatever he asked of them. He wasn't inexperienced in assaulting women by any means.

And you were his next victim. His bleary, exhausted eyes were fixated by your beauty, your delicate and intriguing features. He was obsessed with your hands in particular, the way your fingers tapped at the keys on your laptop, the thought of them wrapped around his growing, meaty cock worsening his urge to own you. König craved you, he dreamt of you. You never noticed him, blissfully oblivious to his deranged gaze and the sickening, sinful thoughts rushing through his rotten head. He'd follow you home, trying to build up the courage to start a conversation with you, to gain your trust. He needed you vulnerable, weak, and helpless. The thought of breaking into the comfort of your own apartment to violate you there and then left him insatiable, with an agonisingly stiff boner that would pulsate and throb at the sight and thought of you.

König's hints were barely noticeable. It was small details that you'd blown off. The fact that your spare keys had suddenly gone missing, or the fact that your clothing hamper had been messed with, rummaged through, and a pair of lace underwear had gone missing as well. König would break into your apartment in the wee hours of the night to slowly and quietly get himself off to your beauty, occasionally getting too close and rubbing his creamy and leaking head against your soft lips, or your cheek. The thrill and anticipation was satisfying — hypnotising. He was engrossed. Obsessed.

You'd regret not taking these hints seriously, not taking advantage of the suspicious clues he left behind to prepare yourself and prevent this from happening. You'd be awoken to an agonising and splitting ache between your supple thighs with your eyes struggling through the darkness, your wrists chained to your headboard with König mercilessly overpowering you. You'd find the debauched sicko hunched over your form and fucking his hefty, slick cock into your wet and creamy folds, taunting you with the sight of your keys. You'd let out incoherent, mumbled cries as he silenced your dreadful and aggravating whining with his calloused palm, dragging his swollen boner into you ‘til you bled out uncontrollably, slick running down his veiny shaft.

He'd force your body into different positions, leaving your trembling and light-headed, barely conscious as he lifted you into his arms with one last painfully deep thrust to your overstimulated and bruised cervix, taking you alongside him. You'd make the perfect breeding partner, Liebe.

[thirdsaltyhunter]

If I Catch You

Summary: Dean chasing you through the halls of the bunker in a ghostface mask, what more do you need

Warning: SMUT, if I catch you I f*ck you trope, mask k*nk, choking, praise, edging, manhandling

A/N: did I forget to post this yesterday cause I was to busy partying... yes but hopefully you'll enjoy this enough to forgive me

You had always loved Halloween even despite being a hunter. It brought back the happy memories from your childhood, when there were no worries, the monsters were only people in masks and the good guys always won at the end of every scary movie. Dean shared your appreciation for the holiday. Even before you and him started dating, you would often spend Halloween nights curled up on motel beds, watching horror marathons with all the snacks and sugar you could handle. Sam on the other hand didn't see the appeal. Sometimes he would join you in your movie watching, but it was mostly to appease you and avoid ridicule from Dean.

This year you and your boyfriend had the bunker all to yourself. Sam had chosen to spend the night with Eileen and leave the two of you to your festivities.

The empty bunker allowed the perfect opportunity for you and Dean to play out a fantasy that you had talked about a few nights before, when you were cuddled up bingeing the Scream franchise.

"Ghostface is hot," you blurted randomly in the middle of the movie. You mostly said this to see his reaction, but there was a hint of truth to your statement.

"Why?" he said in utter confusion. He paused the movie and looked down at you in his arms.

You shrugged. "I don't know masked men are just hot."

"Masked men?" he tried to hide the hint of amusement.

"Oh yeah, it's a real popular thing now. I can show you all the thirst trap videos."

"Yeah I don't need to see that."

You laughed at his look of disgust before he continued.

"So what your saying is that I need to get a Ghostface mask, hm?" he said with a smirk.

"I mean I wouldn't mind, have you chase me through the halls in it." You tilted your head back to face him, your lips almost touching.

"What happens when I catch you?", he asked with a devious smile, his hold on you tightening slightly.

"You'll have to find out," you responded, your voice sultry and teasing.

"I think that can be arranged."

One costume store purchase later and you found yourself in only a set of sexy underwear, standing in the empty hallway. The concrete floor was cool under your bare feet, but your racing pulse kept you from being cold.

Dean had given you a head start before he would try to come and find you. Your excitement was growing. He wasn't going to chase you, if it came down to a sprint race, Dean would win every time. No, he was going to hunt you. You knew this made the game more even, but you also knew that he was crafty and smart. Though in all honesty you wanted to be caught, you were just going to be a little tease before you let him find you.

You had just rounded the corner by the kitchen, when the power went out, causing the bunker's red emergency lights to come on.

Nice touch, you thought.

You heard his voice echo through the hall, signaling that he was coming to find you. Your adrenaline was pumping. Not out of fear, you knew Dean would never hurt you, but out of anticipation for what would happen when he found you.

You slipped into kitchen looking for a spot to hide. Unsatisfied with the spots, you head to the library. You hid in the far corner behind one of the shelves and waited. You listened for his footsteps but heard nothing, years of hunting had trained him to be light on his feet. When you finally heard his voice call your name he was much closer than you expected. He purposefully stepped heavy coming up the stairs from the War Room, his boots thudding against the stone.

You took the opportunity to dart out the door in the back of the library. The bookcase blocked you from his view, but he definitely heard the door shut. You bolted down the back hall, heart pounding as you rounded the corner just as the door opened behind you.

Quietly you slipped into one of the bedrooms and hid under the bed. You listened until his footsteps passed the door and went down the hall. Crawling out from your hiding spot, you checked to make sure the hall was empty before sprinting the opposite direction.

As you ran past the next hall you saw him rounding the other end. You picked up the pace, knowing he had seen you. You turned the next corner and stopped, pressing your back against the cool tile wall to catch your breath. When you decided the coast was clear you went to move to the next hall, when an arm wrapped around your middle, you back pinned to his chest.

You tried to wriggle from his grasp just making it free when you stumbled. You caught yourself, but his hand caught your ankle dragging you across the polished concrete floor and pulling you under him.

He rolled you over and you came face to face with the black eyes and long mouth of the mask, illuminated by the red glow of the lights. This was the first time you had actually seen him in the mask and it was even hotter than you imagined. When he pinned your hands above your head you knew you weren't getting away.

"Gotcha," he growled.

"What are you going to do with me now?" you said through panting breaths, partially from running, partially from how incredibly turned on you were right now.

"You'll have to find out," he responded before using one hand to pull his belt from his jean and loop it around your wrists.

Ok that was hot.

When your hands were secured, he stood up scooping you up off the floor and tossing you over his shoulder, delivering a quick smack to your ass before walking toward your shared bedroom. It wasn't often that he manhandled you like this and you were loving every second of it.

When you got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the bed and straddled your legs. He hooked two fingers into the belt around your wrists.

"You want this to stay on?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. Even being dominant and aggressive, he never wanted to push you limits, solely focused on giving you what you wanted.

"Stay," he ordered, getting up from the bed to strip down to his boxers, leaving the mask in place.

You watched him with lust blown eyes, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you admired his body. He moved to the end of the bed, grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the end. Your underwear was pulled down your legs and tossed over his shoulder. He wrapped you legs around his hips and you could feel his clothed erection. You moaned grinding down on him until his arm crossed you hips, holding you still.

He ran two finger through your slick. '"So wet for me. Is this just from me chasing you?"

You nodded again.

He lowered to his knee, his masked face coming level with your dripping cunt. Two of his fingers dipped into you, immediately curling into the spot that made your back arch and your knees weak. Your head fell back letting the pleasure wash over you.

From the box under the bed, he pulled out your vibrator. He planned to torture you tonight.

"Don't cum until I'm inside you. Do you understand me?" he said turning the toy to the lowest setting and pressing it to your clit.

"Yes," you moaned, hands gripping the sheet above your head. You didn't know how long you were going to last. You were already on the edge of release and he had hardly touched you yet.

As you got close he removed the vibrator, running his hand up your thighs and squeezing your hips to sooth you. You whined and looked at him between you legs. You tried to give him your best puppy eyes, but you couldn't see his expression. You only were met with the blank stare of the mask and the vibrations returning to your sensitive cunt.

He continued teasing you, edging you another four or five times. You hated it and loved it at the same time. It amazed you how he knew exactly where to keep you on edge, or at least it would amaze you, if there was a single part of your brain that could think straight.

"Dean," you whined again, desperate for release.

"Beg for it," he responded sternly, fingers dipping inside you again.

"Please, fuck me." You squirmed, you didn't know if you wanted to get away from he sensation or fuck yourself on his fingers.

He sped up his motions and leaned over you body until he was face to face with you. You could just barely see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you fall into ecstasy.

"Please," you begged.

He removed his fingers and dropped his boxers. His cock was thick and dripping precum, edging you had teased him almost equally as much. He pulled your hips even closer to the edge of the bed and hooked your shaking legs over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he slid into you, filling you completely.

He watched your face as your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.

"That's my girl," he praised, running his hands up and down your sides, desperately trying to keep himself together.

He started thrusting into you, slow, but so deep you could hardly take it.

"Look at me," he said, his hand came up to circle around your throat to put your attention back on him.

Your eyes opened to watch as he fucked you. You could see a blush of exertion creeping down his neck from under the mask. He gently added pressure to the sides of your throat as the speed of his hips increased.

Your hands reached for him as you got closer to falling apart. Noticing how close you were, he started to circle your clit with his thumb. You came with cry of his name, your hand gripping his forearm, his hand loosening from your throat, causing you to feel almost high.

He planted his hand beside your head as his hips stuttered and he came with a deep moan. You both stilled for a few minutes, panting and trying to regain your bearings.

After a moment, he gently pulled out to go get a towel to clean up your combined mess. You squirmed from the sensitivity as he wiped you down. He whispered an apology before tossing the rag and undoing the belt from your wrists.

Finally removing the mask, he ran a hand down his face and smiled down at you. It was funny to see him have that boyish grin after playing the sexy, dangerous slasher for the past hour. He lifted you up to place you at the top of the bed against the pillows.

"That was awesome," he said, laying down beside you and wrapping you in his arms.

"Yeah it was, I fucking love you." You laughed and buried your head in his neck.

"I love you too sweetheart, and I love that I can do things like this with you."

You nodded in agreement before you started to feel how worn out you were.

Both of you were exhausted from your activities and quickly fell asleep, deciding to take a nap before settling down for a night of Halloween movies and junk food.

[luveline]

i just bought the actual cutest spider-man hoodie and now i’m thinking about peter seeing reader wearing spider-man merch !!! <333

The thwack is telling. You hear the splat and your heart jumps out of your chest, that weird wet sound against red-brick wall, and then you realise what it means and start to panic. 

“Hey, woah woah woah!” Peter says, jimmying open your bum window with a too-strong hand. “It's just me, don't panic.” 

You clamber off of the desk chair you're in and rush into the bathroom. 

“Hello?” 

“Two seconds!” you shout, closing the door hard behind you. You can hear the light pad of Peter's footsteps on the floor from the window, but after that he must disguise the weight of them, and you're doubly startled by his knock. “Two seconds, Peter.” 

“Uh… no?” 

You look around frantically. “What do you mean, no?” 

“You're freaking out? Let me in? Like, right now?” 

“None of those were questions.” 

Peter starts to rattle your door handle. “I'll break it!” he threatens, his voice in that funny place where he's joking but not, the same tone he uses to mess with bad guys who underestimate him. You're being teased. 

You pull your shirt over your head just as he opens the door. “Hey, turns out it wasn't locked.” He blinks at you. “Um. Hello to you, too? This isn't the welcome I was expecting.” 

“Cut the smarm. I got, uh. Soup on me.” 

“Soup.” 

You nod fiercely. “So much soup.” 

“You know I'd smell it, right?” he asks, his hair damp with sweat, the mask stuffed in the pocket of his suit and threatening to fall out as he grabs your shirt. His reflexes are too fast to stop him, as he anticipates your movements before they truly happen. 

You stand there in your teeny vest top, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at any spot that isn't his face as he throws out your shirt and takes in the graphic design on the front. 

He looks between you and the shirt smiling like a fool. He laughs, and he tilts his head one way then the other before laughing again. 

“What's so funny?” you challenge. 

“Put this back on,” he says back, matching your demanding tone. “Right now.” 

“No way.” 

“Put it on! You're indecent. Here, I'll help.” 

It's not funny how quickly you lose, shrieking and pushing backwards into the shower as Peter tries to force your arms through the shirt. You laugh as he grabs you and he knows he can keep going, pushing the shirt over your head and his knee between your thighs, and suddenly you've got Spider-Man's emblem on your chest again, the end of the shirt bunched above your stomach. You're both breathless from the scuffle. He stares at your merch. 

“My eyes are up here.” 

“Shut up,” Peter says just as quickly, kissing you hard. A rough and short thing, the glove of his suit on your naked hip. You breathe out in a rush and kiss back, not feverish but getting there, never not happy to feel the seam of his lips parting against yours. He yanks back, “Is this–” 

You kiss him again before he can ask if it's alright. You like a good fight, and it's hard for him to make fun of you for the shirt when you're kissing. He kisses you long enough to make you dizzy, thumb under the hem of your embarrassing apparel. 

He brings his hand to his mouth to bite off his glove and hits the shower with his elbow, a rain of droplets falling from the head like shards of ice down the back of his neck. He pulls away, blinking, and you laugh at his misfortune tauntingly.

“Cold night in Queens?” you ask. 

He wipes at his neck. “Warm for you. You are never taking it off. Never.” 

“What, you like it?” you ask. 

“Just enough to chase you into the bathroom, yeah.” 

“Friendly neighbourhood pervert,” you say happily. 

He wipes his wet hand down your bare stomach. “And his number one fan.” 

[lovesculprit]

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Daydreamin'

Ft. Diluc ノ Zhongli ノAyato ノ Wanderer ノ Alhaitham ノChilde ノ Wriothesley

sum: meet cutes with the genshin men <3

contains: sfw, fempov, reader is short in zhongli's, these take place in random au's wc: 8.6k (roughly 1k - 1.6k per part)

a/n: i have missed writing fluff so much !

❥ - 1.6k

The masquerade was alive, full of colour and movement; the huge ballroom was a sea of masks and shining fabrics. The whole room was filled with music, a lilting waltz to guide every step and turn. Couples moved in time around you, their faces hidden.

You had been partnered with a man who was a gentleman but you didn’t seem to click, and though his dancing steps were passable, they lacked the style that truly made dancing a pleasure. You concentrated on following the rhythm, not letting your mind stray too openly. The masked anonymity of the ball was exhilarating, yes, but so far, the evening hadn't held much excitement.

Your eyes automatically scanned the room, and that's when you saw him.

Tall and poised, with his pale blue hair tied back in place, he moved with an ease that seemed to command the eyes of everyone within his vicinity. His mask was a beautiful work in blue and white, framing sharp features and a couple of piercing, unfathomable eyes. 

While your partner was stiff and formal, this man carried with an air of quiet intensity that set him apart from all others. His hand was steady at his dancing partner’s waist, his steps precise, but there was an ease to him that made it clear he belonged in this kind of setting.

You tried not to stare, but when his partner twirled, his eyes met yours across the dance floor. It was momentary, just a glimpse before he was carried away, but that single jolt of awareness ran through you. You felt restless all of a sudden, the steady rhythm of the waltz not enough to keep your thoughts from straying.

And just as the melody took on a brighter, more playful tone, so did the pace of the dance. In an instant, you whirled around quickly, releasing your partner's hand only to be caught by another. It was a seamless, yet exhilarating shift, but before you could even register what happened, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

The man with the blue and white mask.

"Good evening" a smooth, lilting voice greeted. "Fortune does appear to be smiling on me, tonight." He was quietly confident, gloved hand steady over yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. For a moment, words just wouldn't come.

"I—hello," you managed, your voice faltering under his piercing gaze. "Good um, evening-"

His lips curled into a very small smile—the kind of smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "You don't sound entirely certain," he said, his voice light and teasing but not impolite.

You caught yourself smiling back at him despite the flip in your chest. "I guess I wasn't expecting the evening to take such an…interesting turn."

"Interesting?" His brow arched beneath the edge of his mask as he moved with fluid grace, steering you into the next step. "I hope that's a compliment."

"Perhaps it is," you said, finding your stride with surprising ease. He danced with an unhurried confidence, as if the rest of the ballroom did not exist, and it was impossible not to be drawn in. "Do you make a habit of catching people off guard?"

His laugh was low, a sound that felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

And then, of course, the two of you would twirl together—perfectly timed—and the room would spin with you in that moment. For a moment, it was as though the music itself had slowed to let your steps catch up, the world narrowing to the warmth of his hand at your waist and the steady rhythm of his movements.

"Have we met before?" you asked, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could hold them back.

He cocked his head to one side, studying you with an unreadable look on his face. "Not formally," he replied after a moment, the word tightly controlled. "Though I must admit, I did notice you earlier."

There was something underlying in what he said, an almost calculated quality to the way he picked them, which made you feel that there was more in his answer than he was letting on. "You noticed me?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you; you know your eyes locked for a moment, but you didn't think he'd noticed.

"Indeed," he said. Light and precise were his footsteps, as if each step was rehearsed. "You stood out. It was hard not to notice."

You felt flustered at that, though you attempted to downplay the thought in a careless tone. "That sounds unlikely in a room full of masks and finery."

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice light but with a sharper undercurrent to it. "But even amongst all of this, there are some things worth looking at closer."

The words just hung in the air between you, and you didn't know what to say. His eyes were fixed intently on yours; you couldn't help but gaze into their depth.

"And yet," you got out, finding your voice again, "we still only ended up here by chance."

"Chance?" His voice was suddenly low and touched with silent amusement. He turned you around easily, the room blurring for a moment before his hand steadied you once more. "Let's just say. I'm not in the habit of leaving certain things entirely to chance."

His words made you pause, your eyes narrowing slightly as you regarded him. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled, low and rich; it was almost a confession in itself. "The flow of a dance like this," he began, his voice silky, like the music wrapped around you, "is not quite as fickle as one might expect. Patterns begin to emerge, if you look for them, and well, it becomes possible to guide the outcome.

Realization dawned and you blinked up at him, stuck somewhere between incredulity and fascination. "You mean you counted the steps? To make sure we'd-"

“To make sure we’d end up here, yes,” he finished for you, his tone unapologetic but not smug. His gaze remained steady, his expression calm as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught in your throat as a rush of feelings struggled for dominance: flattery, curiosity, perhaps even a touch of indignation at the subtle manipulation. "And why go to all that trouble?"

His hand at your waist tightened ever so slightly, anchoring you as his voice dropped just enough for only you to hear. "Because the chance to dance with you wasn't one I was willing to miss."

The sincerity in his voice took you aback, and for a moment, you were silent. His confidence had been apparent from the get-go, but now, beneath that, you saw something more—something almost vulnerable in the way he waited for your reaction.

"Well," you said finally, your lips curving into a small smile as you met his gaze. "I suppose I should be flattered, then."

"Flattered," he repeated, his voice playful but with a hint of heat, "is a good place to start. Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for more than that."

You tipped your head, his words creating a shiver in your chest. "More? Such as?"

"Perhaps," he said, bringing his face inches closer, his voice lowering just enough to speed up the pulse, "to finally see the face behind the mask. It seems somehow unfair to be so drawn to someone so captivating without really knowing who they are."

You laughed softly, "Isn't the whole point of a masquerade to keep such things a mystery?"

His eyes met yours and held just a little too long, "And while the masquerade is lovely, I think I'd rather see you without the mask."

You looked away, the heat in his words catching you off guard. "That's a pretty bold assumption," you said, trying to keep yourself together. "What makes you think I'd even want to show you?"

His fingers tightened on yours just a fraction, but the spark sent shivers through you. "Because I think you'd enjoy it," he said, his voice low, almost mischievous-sounding. "I am only guessing that you're one of those persons who sets a great store by mystery, yet wouldn't balk if that mystery were to be let go at the proper time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "That's quite the gamble."

He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Sometimes the best things are worth taking a chance on."

"I'm sure we could find a time-perhaps after the masks come off-when we can have a real conversation." He stopped there for just a moment, then added, "Maybe even a date."

You laughed softly, and a spark was lit under your chest that you couldn't quite explain. "You're confident-”

He leaned in closer, "If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t be here.”

The dance was coming to a close, the music slowing, but he didn't let go of your hand. He gave you a smile full of unspoken promises, "I'll wait, then. But I think you'll find you won't want to wait too long."

You smiled back at him, feeling the chemistry between you build with each passing moment. "Maybe I'll keep you guessing for a little longer."

He gave a small bow as the dance finished, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll take my chances."

❥ - 1k

The chatter of other parents waiting in line outside the classroom filled the hallway, a blend of polite conversations and nervous laughter. You stood near the wall, holding your bag and glancing occasionally at the door. Parent’s Evening always had this awkward tension—trying to gauge how much trouble your child may or may not be in based on the teacher's expression when they called you in. 

Off to the side, a deep voice rumbled, "Long line, huh?" You turned to find a tall man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way-broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and there was an air of calm about him that felt oddly magnetic.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a small smile. “They should’ve scheduled these things better. It’s like they expect us to wait all night.”

As your conversation with the handsome stranger flowed, a burst of laughter from down the hall caught your attention. Glancing over, you spotted two familiar figures.

They were crouched together near a display of student artwork, heads close as if sharing some top-secret joke. Your child gestured animatedly, while his son leaned back, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over.

Wriothesley followed your gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Well, looks like the wait doesn’t bother them.”

“That’s my kid,” you said, a touch of pride in your voice.

“Annd that’s mine,”

You exchanged a look, realisation dawning.

“They’re best friends,” you both said at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison.

The synchronicity made you both laugh, and the easy warmth of the moment was enough to chase away the awkwardness of the initial encounter.

“Explains a lot,” he said, straightening up slightly. “Every day, my son’s got a new story about the ‘coolest’ thing your kid did or some scheme they’re planning.”

“Oh, trust me, I hear all about it too,” you replied, grinning. “Your son apparently always brings the best cookies to school and hands them out to everyone?”

Wriothesley smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t take praise for that, I’m not the greatest baker, but the shop-bought ones? Can’t go wrong there.”

The teacher’s voice drifted into the hallway, calling another name—still not either of yours. The two of you had a little more time to linger.

The lightness in his eyes softened. “Honestly, though, it’s nice. Knowing my kid has someone like yours to lean on. Makes everything feel a little less… overwhelming, you know?”

You nodded, your own smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I do know. It’s… good for them to have someone. Especially when it’s just the two of you at home.”

There was a brief pause as that unspoken understanding settled between you, the noise of the hallway fading just slightly. His eyes lingered on you, thoughtful now, as if piecing something together.

“Just the two of you?” he asked softly, his voice careful but curious.

You nodded, shifting your weight. "Yeah. It's uh- been that way a decent while now. Just me and my kid figuring things out as we go."

His face softened, and a flicker of something vulnerable crossed it. "Same here. It's just me and my boy."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Somehow, despite the ease of their rapport and the warmth in the exchanges, you hadn't expected to hear that. "Really?

He gave a short nod, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but. he's worth it, you know? Even when he's teaching half the class how to be a menace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the shared understanding pulling you closer. "Oh, trust me, I get it."

His eyes wandered over your form before taking in the colour of your eyes Then, as if catching himself, he straightened slightly, his tone softening. "So, uh… what do you do? When you're not chasing after your kid, I mean."

You told him, your response setting off an easy back-and-forth that felt surprisingly natural. He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, even laughing softly when you shared a self-deprecating story.

"And you?" you asked, truly curious.

“Nothing as exciting as you,” he said with a teasing grin before adding, “I’m a prison warden. Keeps me busy, but… it’s good. Makes coming home to my boy feel like the best part of my day.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord, and you found yourself smiling again. “That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, though he played it off with a small laugh. “I try.”

The kids reappeared then, tugging at your sleeves and talking over each other about some grand plan they’d concocted. Wriothesley crouched down to their level, his larger frame surprisingly gentle as he spoke to them.

As the teacher’s voice finally called your name, you hesitated, glancing back at him.

“Looks like that’s me,” you said, your tone light but reluctant.

He nodded, his smile warm. “Good luck in there. And, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck again, a hint of nervousness creeping into his otherwise composed demeanour. “If you ever need a break from all this, maybe we could grab a coffee tea sometime. No pressure.”

Your chest tightened at the unexpected invitation, but his genuine tone made it impossible not to smile.

“For the kids?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened, that boyish charm impossible to miss. “Of course. For the kids.”

“Sure,” you said, smiling at him. “Why not?”

As you walked into the classroom, your child waving enthusiastically behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back. He was watching with a soft, thoughtful expression that almost made you feel like giving love a second shot wouldn’t be so bad.

❥ - 1.1k

The city was busy as you stepped out of your favorite café, the warmth of your freshly brewed tea seeping through the cup and into your hands. Turning the corner, you collided with what felt like a brick wall—or rather, a man in a sharply tailored suit moving with single-minded determination. The impact sent your tea splashing upward, landing squarely on his pristine white shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you blurted, your voice full of mortification as you stared at the growing stain on the fabric.

The man—broad-shouldered, towering, and clearly out of place in the crowd of harried commuters—paused mid-step, looking down at his now-ruined shirt. His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight, but it was his striking eyes that pinned you in place as he met your gaze.

“It’s… fine,” he said after a moment, though his tone was stiff. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some tissues with the kind of poise that suggested he’d dealt with worse.

“No, it’s not fine!” you protested, fumbling to grab some napkins from your bag. “Here, let me—oh no, this was hot, wasn’t it? Did I burn you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, his tone softening slightly as he noticed the genuine concern in your expression.

You grabbed a napkin the cafe had gave you, attempting to help,, hovering uncertainly as he dabbed at the stain. “I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

“I wasn’t, either,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Despite his calm demeanour, you could tell he was in a hurry. His eyes flicked toward his watch, a sleek, expensive piece that looked like it cost more than your entire month’s rent. You followed his gaze and bit your lip.

“You’re on your way somewhere important,” you guessed, wincing. “A meeting?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound annoyed—just resigned. He folded the damp handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. “But accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you said, wringing your hands. “Can I… uh pay for it to be cleaned?”

At that, his eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if the idea amused him. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s really not a problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a quiet authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. “But…” He paused, glancing at the puddle of tea on the sidewalk. “You might want to be more careful next time.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child despite his lack of actual harshness.

He glanced at you again, noticing the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and something in him softened. Normally, a situation like this would have him irritated—late for a meeting, ruined shirt, a stranger apologising profusely but not being able to go back in time and undo it. In his world, time was money, and getting distracted by little accidents was a waste. But for some reason, he found himself looking at you, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else—something that made him pause longer than he normally would. There was something about the way you looked—flustered, apologetic, and yet still trying to make things right—that made him pause.

Diluc found himself caught in a moment of unusual stillness, the frenetic energy of the city seeming to blur into the background. His eyes lingered on your face—a blend of soft, sincere concern and undeniable beauty. He couldn’t quite place why he felt compelled to stay longer than necessary. You were a stranger, after all. But there was something about the way your lips quirked in worry and the brightness in your eyes that made you hard to look away from.

The logical part of his mind urged him to move on—his meeting, his schedule—but the thought of leaving felt… incomplete.

He cleared his throat, his deep voice gentling further. “You really don’t need to worry about the shirt. It’s not the end of the world.”

You blinked, as if surprised by his reassurance. “Still, I feel bad. I’ve ruined your morning.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes this time. “If anything, it’s made it a little more… interesting.” His tone was laced with something playful, a rarity in his otherwise measured demeanour.

The way your eyebrows lifted in surprise made his chest tighten unexpectedly. It was as though he’d accidentally caught himself wanting to linger in this fleeting encounter—an anomaly in his meticulously ordered life.

“Let me buy you another drink.” he said suddenly, catching even himself off guard.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Your tea,” he clarified, gesturing to the now-empty cup in your hand. “It’s only fair I replace what you’ve lost.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, as if you were searching for words. “But I—no, you don’t have to do that. I should be the one offering—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet finality that left little room for argument. There was no hint of impatience, only a calm confidence that suggested he wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a hurry…”

Diluc glanced at his watch again. For a brief moment, he considered the importance of his next appointment. Then, with a surprising sense of ease, he decided it could wait.

“I have a little time,” he said, meeting your gaze again. “Besides, I’d hate to leave you feeling guilty all day.”

That faint smile returned to his face, and his eyes held a warmth that made your heart skip. There was something magnetic about him—his quiet confidence, his poise, and the subtle charm that softened the edges of his serious demeanour.

“Well… okay,” you relented, your voice small but tinged with a shy smile. “But only if you let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

His laughter was soft but genuine, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “No need,” he said, the amused glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t particularly care about the shirt anymore anyway.

He gestured for you to lead the way, and as you walked back toward the café together, you couldn’t help but feel like the city’s chaos had suddenly slowed down. With every step, the weight of your earlier embarrassment lifted, replaced by a curious warmth that lingered in the space between you.

❥ - 1.2k

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the garden in a soft, amber hue as the wedding reception continued around you. The hum of chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music. When it was time to take your seats for the food, you found your assigned table tucked near the back of the venue. As you approached, you noticed you weren’t the first to arrive. A man sat in the chair next to yours, flipping through the menu card with a casual disinterest.

He looked up as you neared, and for a moment, you were struck by how effortlessly striking he was. His silvery hair, streaked with teal, gleamed under the warm lights, and his sharp eyes gave him an air of detached confidence.

“Hi,” you said brightly, sliding into your seat. “Looks like we’re table buddies for the night.”

He gave a polite nod, setting the menu down. “It seems so.”

The lack of enthusiasm might have deterred you if not for the faint, curious glance he gave you, as if wondering why you were addressing him in the first place.

“So,” you continued, undeterred, “are you here for the bride or the groom?”

“The groom,” he replied simply. “We were classmates years ago.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here for the bride—she’s a friend from work. This whole thing is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He glanced around the venue, as though appraising it. “It’s… elaborate.”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s an…interesting way of putting it.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, though he didn’t say more. You took that as an opening to keep the conversation going.

“Do you go to a lot of weddings?” you asked.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, his tone dry. “But occasionally, duty calls.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a grin. “I kind of love weddings. The food, the music, the atmosphere—it’s all so happy.”

He raised an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, like he couldn’t quite fathom it. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sits and judges everything,” you teased.

“I prefer to call it observation,” he countered smoothly. “It’s more productive than forced small talk.”

You laughed, and he seemed momentarily surprised by your reaction, his expression softening slightly.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at forced small talk,” you declared with mock seriousness. “I’ll keep us entertained all night if I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite his initial reluctance, Alhaitham was surprisingly easy to talk to. He had a dry wit that paired amusingly with your sunny optimism, and he seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth. When the dancing began, you noticed he stayed firmly seated, watching the lively crowd with the same calm detachment he’d worn all evening.

“No dancing for you?” you asked, leaning toward him slightly.

He gave you a pointed look. “Do I strike you as someone who dances?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But you’d look great out there. Imagine the dramatic twirls.”

“Hard pass,” he said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, I’m terrible at dancing, too,” you said cheerfully. “So we can sit here and judge—I mean, observe—together.”

“An acceptable compromise,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

The night unfolded with an ease you hadn’t anticipated. Alhaitham, for all his aloofness, seemed genuinely engaged as you bantered back and forth. The initial polite detachment in his demeanour gave way to something subtler, warmer. While his words remained measured and his tone calm, you started catching little glimpses—fleeting but unmistakable—that he was paying closer attention to you than you realised.

It began with small things. During dessert, as you waved your hands enthusiastically while recounting a story about an awkward first dance at a previous wedding, his gaze lingered—not on your plate, not on the crowded dance floor, but on you. His eyes followed the way you spoke, as though memorizing the way your smile tilted or the soft cadence of your laughter.

“I have to say,” you finished, leaning back in your chair with a grin, “this wedding is definitely one of the better ones. I’ve been to.”

His lips twitched, his smirk almost imperceptible. “High praise. I agree, though I imagine your presence has something to do with that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—was that… a compliment?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive save for the faintest gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Merely an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “Noted, Mr. Observer.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet amusement in the way he refocused his attention on his glass of wine, swirling it gently as though debating his next words. Finally, he said, “You’re remarkably good at making these events less… tedious.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Okay, now I know that’s a compliment. What’s next? You’ll tell me I’m your favourite dinner companion?”

“If I did, would you stop asking questions?” His tone was dry, but there was an unmistakable flicker of amusement behind it.

“Absolutely not,” you shot back.

The festivities wound down, the lively hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of guests gathering their things. You stood near your table, slipping your shawl over your shoulders as the cool evening breeze swept through the venue. Alhaitham stood beside you, as composed as ever, though there was a subtle ease to his posture now, a quiet warmth in his expression.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his admission. “You’re not so bad for a reluctant wedding guest, you know.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerable for someone who insists on small talk,” he said, his tone dry but laced with something softer, almost playful.

He glanced away briefly, as though debating something, before reaching into his jacket pocket. Without a word, he pulled out a neatly folded napkin and handed it to you. You unfolded it, only to find a string of neatly written numbers in crisp handwriting.

“For the next time you find yourself at one of these events,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes steady on yours, “and you need someone to… observe with.”

You stared at the napkin, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Is this your way of saying you’d tolerate my company again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’d even go as far as to say I’d welcome it.”

The honesty in his tone, subtle but undeniable, caught you off guard. You looked up at him, clutching the napkin like it was a secret treasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler.

❥ - 1.4k

The gentle hum of the elevator filled the air as you stepped inside, juggling your bag and a stack of papers you were determined not to drop. You barely noticed the man already inside until you turned to press your floor button and realised it was already lit. Your eyes flicked to him—a sharp-featured young man leaning against the corner with an air of disinterest, arms crossed.

His violet eyes, striking even in the dim light of the elevator, briefly met yours before darting away. His indigo hair fell in soft, slightly messy strands around his face, the casual tousle at odds with the crisp, clean lines of his attire. Something about him exuded quiet intensity, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking as the two of you stood in silence.

Just as the elevator jolted into motion, he seemed to shift, his stance straightening ever so slightly. A few moments passed before, quite suddenly, the elevator stopped with a soft lurch.

“Oh,” you murmured, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall. The lights remained on, but the numbers on the display froze.

“What just happened?” you asked aloud, glancing over at him.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “Looks like it’s stuck,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You frowned, pressing the button for your floor a few times. Nothing. Then you tried the "door open" button, with no better results. “Great,” you sighed, leaning back. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.”

“It happens,” he said, not quite looking at you.

You nodded, trying not to feel awkward in the confined space. You glanced over at him again, noticing how he seemed strangely composed for someone stuck in an elevator. In fact, there was an odd tension in the way he stood, his arms folded tightly as if he were holding something back.

After a beat, you broke the silence. “So… do you think someone’s already working on it?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I pressed the emergency button.”

You blinked. “When?”

“Just now,” he said, his voice a little too quick. “They’ll fix it soon.”

Something about his answer struck you as odd, but you didn’t press. You instead leaned against the wall and let out a small laugh. “Guess it’s not the worst scenario.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “True,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he added, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “Getting stuck in elevators? No, not really.” you laugh a little, “Why, does it happen to you?”

“...Not exactly,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked to yours then, and for a moment, he seemed completely still, like he was caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, his expression tightening.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

He nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… not great with small talk.”

You laughed gently at his honesty. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

He hesitated, the faintest hint of frustration flashing in his eyes before he spoke again, his words awkward but sincere. “I… don’t mind…talking. To you.”

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because his cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away, scowling at himself. “Forget it,” he muttered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly, smiling at him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. You just don’t seem like the type who talks just to fill the silence.”

He glanced at you again, and something in his expression softened. “I don’t.”

“Well,” you said lightly, “I guess I’ll take it as a compliment, then.”

The smallest smirk ghosted across his lips, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. The elevator felt a little less stifling after that, the tension easing as the two of you settled into a companionable silence.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the faint press of his fingers against the emergency stop button, hidden just behind his back. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as he glanced at you one more time, silently cursing himself for how ridiculous he felt—and how glad he was that he’d pressed it anyway.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said abruptly, the words coming out more bluntly than he’d intended.

You blinked, tilting your head as you tried to place him. “Really? Where?”

His gaze darted to the floor for a second, then back to you. “In one of the other departments. You work on the third floor, right?”

You nodded slowly, surprised that he knew. “Yeah, I do. I didn’t realise you knew that. Do you work in the building too?”

He crossed his arms again, his posture stiffening slightly. “Kind of. I’m usually upstairs.” He gestured vaguely upward. “But I’ve passed through your floor a few times.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a soft laugh. “I guess I haven’t noticed you before.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flush high on his cheekbones. “Not surprising. You’re usually… busy. Focused.”

You smiled at that, a little flattered despite the awkwardness of the exchange. “I guess that’s true. I get caught up in my work sometimes.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

There was a beat of silence before you tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “So, what do you do? Upstairs, I mean.”

He hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Oh it’s…not interesting” he said finally, his tone nonchalant..

“Neither is what I do,” you said, grinning. “So I guess we have that in common.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “I guess so.”

You leaned back against the wall, studying him for a moment. His sharp features, the way his arms stayed folded tightly as if trying to guard himself from the world, the flicker of something softer in his gaze when he glanced at you—it all made him a puzzle you wanted to understand.

Wanderer shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as if steeling himself for something. His violet eyes flicked to yours, then away again, before he finally spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“You know… since we’re stuck here and all,” he began, glancing at you briefly, “I was thinking… maybe after we get out of this, we could… grab lunch or something.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and you blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his usual sharp tone softened by a faint flush colouring his cheeks. “You’re always busy, right? Maybe you could use a break.”

You blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, relief flickering in his expression. “Good,” he said simply, as though that was the end of it. But you could see the faint tension still lingering in the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

“I think that sounds nice,” you added, smiling warmly. “Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we just winging it?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll think of something.”

Before either of you could say more, Wanderer subtly reached behind him and pressed the emergency stop button again, releasing it with a soft click. The elevator gave a slight jolt and then resumed its motion, the floor indicator lighting up as if the issue had miraculously resolved itself.

“Oh,” you said, straightening in surprise. “It’s working again!”

Wanderer arched a brow, schooling his expression into one of mild surprise. “Huh. Guess they fixed it.”

“Finally,” you said with a chuckle, relaxing against the wall. “That wasn’t too bad, though. Good company and all.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his smirk deepening just a little as he glanced at you. “Could’ve been worse.”

As the elevator dinged, signalling your floor, you gathered your things and turned to him. “So… lunch?”

He nodded, his gaze steady for once. “Lunch.”

❥ - 1k

The lecture hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students filing in and chatting while the professor prepared at the front. You slipped into your usual seat near the edge of the room—a spot with minimal distractions and a clear view of the board. It was the ideal spot.

Or, it was.

“Hey, hey, hey! Mind if I sit here?”

Before you could even glance up, a whirlwind of energy plopped down onto the seat next to you. You turned to find him—Ajax, also known as the human embodiment of a golden retriever. His ginger hair was messy in that purposeful way, his bright blue eyes practically sparking with energy, and his grin was as wide as the ocean.

“Oh, uh…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Great, thanks!” He tossed his bag onto the desk, completely ignoring the fact that you hadn’t exactly agreed.

Ajax leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who had never doubted his welcome. Before you could so much as adjust your notebook, he started rummaging through his bag, pulling out what looked suspiciously like a crumpled bag of crisps.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked, already popping it open, the scent wafting into the air. “I missed breakfast. You ever accidentally hit snooze like, five times?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the whirlwind of words. “Um, sometimes?”

“Right? Anyway, you seem like someone who doesn’t skip breakfast. Organized. Responsible. Probably always on time.” He tossed a crisp into his mouth and grinned at you.

“I…” You glanced at your notebook, feeling your cheeks warm under his bright attention. “I guess so.”

“Knew it-” he declared triumphantly, “I’m never wrong about these things. It’s like a gift.”

The professor began the lecture, and you thought maybe—just maybe—Ajax would settle down. For a solid five minutes, he stayed quiet, munching on his crisps and tapping a pen against his notebook. Then, he leaned over slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, be honest. Do you actually take notes, or are you one of those people who doodles during class?”

You bit back a smile, gesturing at the neatly written bullet points already filling your page.

“Figures,” he said, sounding impressed. “Your handwriting-” he gestured vaguely toward your notebook. “It’s pretty. Like, did you take a calligraphy class or something?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, clearly trying to stay focused. “No, it’s just… how I write.”

Ajax leaned in a little, his voice teasing. “Yeah, well, it’s very intimidating. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “Somehow, I doubt you care about that.”

“You should let me borrow your notes sometime,” he added, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “I’ll pay you back in snacks. Or coffee. Or both.”

“I don’t think snacks are an acceptable trade for hours of note-taking,” you said, your voice dry but teasing.

“Ah, but I bring excellent snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “And I make for great conversation, not so bad to look at... You’ve gotta admit, this class is more fun with me around.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a mock gasp. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think my ego can handle it if you disagree.”

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am, sitting beside you,” he said, popping another crisp into his mouth and flashing a wink.

As the lecture dragged on, Ajax continued his antics, though they softened into something less disruptive and more endearing. He whispered comments about the professor’s overly dramatic hand gestures, pointed out a tiny bird perched on the window ledge, and even offered you a crisp—which you declined with a polite shake of your head.

“Y’know,” he said after a pause, his tone softer but still playful, “you’re kind of an enigma.”

You frowned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “An enigma?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re quiet, all focused and put-together, but then you smile, and it’s like—bam. Sunshine. Caught me off guard, honestly.”

You froze for a second, the compliment landing unexpectedly. When you turned your head to look at him fully, Ajax’s grin had softened into something warmer, his blue eyes holding yours for just a beat too long.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but your voice lacked the bite you probably intended.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered, leaning back again with a self-satisfied smirk.

You groaned, shaking your head and turning back to your notes but you couldn’t hide the faint smile.

For the rest of the lecture, he mostly behaved himself—though you could feel his occasional glances, lingering just long enough for you to catch him once or twice. Each time, he’d flash you a cheeky grin, like he wasn’t even remotely sorry.

When the lecture ended and the shuffle of packing up began, Ajax turned to you again, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, grinning as if you’d already agreed to whatever he was about to propose. “Same spot next time, yeah? I’ll bring better snacks, maybe something with chocolate. You seem like a chocolate kind of person.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his easy assumption. “I—”

“Great!” he cut in before you could protest. “It’s settled. See you Wednesday!”

And just like that, he was gone, bounding out of the lecture hall with the energy of someone who’d had three cups of coffee this morning.

❥ - 1.3k

The quiet murmur of a bookshop’s ambiance wrapped around you as you wandered through the aisles. The scent of old pages and freshly printed novels mixed in the air, a calming backdrop to the soft rustle of paper as other customers leafed through books. You found yourself in the history section, your eyes scanning the spines for the title you’d been meaning to pick up for weeks.

There it was—finally. Unfortunately, it was perched on the highest shelf, just out of reach. You stood on tiptoes, stretching as far as you could, but the book still eluded your grasp. Letting out a soft huff, you glanced around, wondering if there might be a stool or ladder nearby.

“Allow me.”

The deep, resonant voice startled you slightly, and you turned to see a tall man standing beside you. His amber eyes were warm and steady, framed by long, sleek hair the colour of dark chocolate with faint streaks of gold. He wore a well-fitted vest over a crisp shirt, the kind of attire that seemed more suited to a museum curator than a bookshop employee. Yet the small name tag on his vest confirmed his role here.

“May I?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips as he gestured toward the shelf.

“Oh, uh, yes. Please,” you stammered, stepping aside.

With an elegance that seemed effortless, he reached up and plucked the book from its high perch, holding it out to you as though presenting a rare treasure. “This one, correct?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, your smile growing as you took it from his hands. “Thank you so much….I didn’t realise the shelves here went so high up here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low melody. “The shelves in this section are rather tall. A peculiar design choice, considering the average customer’s height.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile deepening. “If you ever require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Zhongli, and I’m here most days.”

“Thank you, Zhongli,” you said, glancing down at the book in your hands. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

His eyes softened, and he inclined his head slightly, a gesture so refined it almost felt like a bow. “Enjoy your reading. That particular title is quite enlightening.”

“You’ve read it?” you asked, curious.

“Many times,” he admitted, a faint gleam of fondness in his eyes. “If you’d like, I can recommend others in the same vein. There are several works that complement it quite well.”

Your smile widened. “I’d like that. I might have to come back for those recommendations.”

Zhongli’s gaze lingered on you briefly, a warm, easy smile gracing his lips. “You know,” he said in a tone as calm and composed as ever, “you have a very natural beauty. It’s... refreshing, in the best way.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, and you glanced down at the book in your hands, trying to keep your composure. “Oh, um, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” he continued, his expression earnest. “Your smile is particularly radiant—it brightens the room more than you might realize. It’s the kind of detail one notices immediately.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling a mixture of flattered and flustered. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, low sound. “I suppose I am. But in this case, it’s impossible not to be. I’m certain I’m not the first person to tell you this, though.”

“Well, it’s not something I hear often in a bookstore,” you replied, your smile widening despite yourself.

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he said with a small, confident nod.

The two of you stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling as the ambiance of the bookstore buzzed faintly in the background. Zhongli glanced down at your book again, his thoughtful expression making it clear he was not one to speak without intent.

“That book,” he began, gesturing to the title in your hands, “Explores a fascinating era. Have you always been interested in this period of history?”

You nodded, feeling more at ease, a smile crossing your face.

His amber eyes lit up, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the tall bookshelf. “You have excellent taste.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that “That’s high praise coming from someone who seems like they might be a historian themselves.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement. “Not quite, though I’ve spent a great deal of time immersed in historical studies. You could say it’s a passion of mine.”

“I can tell,” you said, tilting your head. “You speak about it so eloquently. Have you worked here long?”

“Long enough,” he replied cryptically, though his smile didn’t waver. “And long enough to learn which shelves require a ladder and which ones are within an acceptable reach.”

You laughed at his response, the sound light and genuine. “Well, your knowledge certainly came in handy today. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be strategizing how to climb the bookshelf without breaking any bones.”

“I’m glad I could save you the trouble,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though, I must say, I suspect you would have approached it with admirable determination.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, grinning. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have to try.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, Zhongli proving to be an impeccable listener with a knack for making even the smallest details feel significant. He shared recommendations for other books with a quiet enthusiasm that made you wonder just how vast his knowledge was. At one point, he mentioned a nearby café where he often went to read, his casual suggestion tinged with the faintest hint of an invitation.

“Do you spend much time in bookstores?” he asked after a pause, his tone curious.

“Probably more than I should,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “There’s something so comforting about them. The quiet, the endless possibilities on the shelves… it’s like a little escape from the world.”

Zhongli’s expression softened, and for a moment, he regarded you with a look so earnest it made your pulse quicken. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said quietly. “It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates the nuances of a place like this. Most people simply pass through without truly seeing it.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying an unspoken depth. You glanced down at your book, your fingers brushing against the embossed title. “It sounds like you’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“I have,” he said simply. “But encounters like this… they remind me of the value in taking notice.”

Your heart fluttered at his sincerity, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Do you think you’ll be here tomorrow? I might need help finding those other books you mentioned.”

Zhongli’s lips curved into a warm smile, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I would be delighted to assist you again. Come by anytime.”

With that, you exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, but the connection lingered, the promise of another meeting sparking a quiet anticipation in the back of your mind.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[acey-wacey]

True Love's Kiss

Feat. Idia, Azul, Vil

Synopsis: You've fallen under a mysterious sleeping spell. Who can wake you up but your true love?

...

🎮 Idia Shroud 🎮

"ME?!"

Idia's shriek resounded through the infirmary before he was hushed by one of the nurses. He shrunk back in his embarrassment and turned back to the cheeky cat that was standing on the infirmary bed next to your sleeping form.

"Yes, you, shut-in. What have you got brimstone on your ears?" Grim scowled at the blue-haired boy who's hair was becoming quite pink with embarrassment. "Who else would kiss my henchman awake?"

"Literally anyone else, maybe?" Idia argued, hiding his face behind the collar of his jacket. "It's always Prince Charming in the stories. I'm about the farthest thing you could find."

"I think you're plenty charming, Idia!" Ortho chimed in with what would have been a smile if he didn't have his mask on. "Who's to say you won't break the spell?"

"I say," Idia groaned, his voice muffled by his jacket. "Aren't there any other cures? I thought Professor Crewel was working on an antidote."

Before Grim could open his mouth, Ortho interrupted.

"Nope! No other cure!" Ortho beamed with glee uncharacteristic for delivering grave news. "I already scanned and if my databases say there's no other cure than there's no other cure and you have to kiss them!"

Idia whined in mortification and buried himself further in his jacket, now almost entirely engulfed by the fabric, except for the tufts of flaming hair sticking out the top.

Grim tapped his paw impatiently, quite fed up with Idia's reservations. Every second you were asleep was a second that your poor, poor kitty boss went without tuna (he couldn't reach the cabinet where you put the cans).

"I could always go get Leona. He's a prince, so it's close enough, yeah?"

"No!" Idia shot up, his hair flared up in red, startling Grim so bad, Ortho had to catch him before he fell off the bed. Idia took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair until it returned to its regular electric blue.

"Don't even joke about that," Idia muttered through gritted teeth. "Makes my skin crawl to think of that grubby jock getting his slimy lips anywhere near Y/N."

"Fine, if you don't want anyone else to do it, then what's the issue?" Grim put his paws on his hips and shot Idia an impatient look. "You like them, they like you, they probably want to kiss you anyway so just hop to it! I'm starving over here!"

Idia snapped up in shock at Grim's words.

"Y/N... likes me?"

Grim scoffed in ridicule and rolled his eyes.

"Duh! What, have you been living under a rock? Oh, wait, you have, haven't you?"

Ortho immediately began protesting Grim's insult. Idia himself might've been offended if he wasn't preoccupied with his overheating brain.

Why in Wonderland would you like him? I mean that was just a ridiculous claim even though both Grim and Ortho seemed to believe it. Not many people even liked being around him much... but then again, you weren't other people.

You were the one who messaged him to go to sleep at midnight after gaming for too long. You brought him snacks and sat in comfortable silence in his dorm while he played video games. You never expected more from him and without realizing it, he has gotten used to having you next to him. It even happened sometimes that he would turn to say something to you while he was gaming, only to find you weren't there. It baffled him how you made your way into his daily routine almost without notice.

"Do they really?" Idia asked softly, catching the attention of both Grim and Ortho who had been exchanging some heated words of childlike manner. "Like me, I mean."

Ortho giggled at his brother's bashfulness.

"Of course they do! They never shut up about you!" Grim huffed, recalling the countless times he'd heard you practically gushing about the vitamin D deficient geek. "No clue why though. Guess Y/N likes 'em pale and sickly."

"I'm not- whatever," Idia didn't really have the fight in him to argue with Grim's impression of him. He took a deep breath and looked at Ortho. "Do you really think it would work?"

"Only one way to find out!" the little robot responded cheerily.

"What if..." Idia gulped. "What if it doesn't work and I just kiss them for nothing? What if..."

"Shut up and pucker up, dracula! I'm wasting away without my henchman!"

That earned Grim a pair of yellow-eyed glares.

Idia collected himself with a deep breath and leaned towards you.

"Nope, nope, nope, this is a bad idea, I can't do this," he panicked, standing up and waving his hands around in anxiety. Grim rolled his eyes and jumped onto Idia's shoulders, pushing him onto you with all the momentum the little creature could muster.

It was effective. Idia toppled forward onto the infirmary bed, catching himself just in time to not crush you, but not before his lips brushed yours.

Idia jumped back, crashing to the floor quite devoid of grace. He, Ortho, and Grim all held their breath, waiting for something to happen.

"Aw, man, our first kiss, and I wasn't even awake for it!"

Idia brightened at the sound of your voice. He jumped back to his feet to see your drowsy eyes locked on him.

"Hi, Charming," you lazily smiled at the blue-haired boy. "Thanks for rescuing me."

Idia's face went slack with shock and his face turned so red you were afraid he might explode.

"Perfect! Now that you're awake, get me tuna, human!"

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

"This is such a bad idea."

Deuce echoed for the nth time since Ace had come up with his little scheme.

"I know but just think," Ace smirked at your sleeping body, which the two were carrying through the Octavinelle dorm, Ace supporting your arms, Deuce carrying your legs, like they were carrying a dead body. "Imagine the look on the prefect's face when they wake up and see Azul They'll probably think they're dreaming."

"Yeah, I think they've had that dream before," Grim scowled from where he rode atop your belly. "Wouldn't be surprised with how down-bad they are for that slimy little junior mafia boss."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," Ace dismissed, ignoring Deuce's concerned look. "And if anything bad happens, it'll probably be the prefect ending up with a contract, not us."

"That's kind of a terrible thing to say about a cursed person," Deuce pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Pssh, where'd your moral compass come from, huh?"

"From my mom," Deuce spat defensively. Ace was about to respond when they were both startled by a looming figure standing menacingly behind Deuce.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Both first years gulped in fear at the sound of the eel's unison voices.

"Is our poor prefect injured?" Jade frowned though his eyes held a devious sparkle.

"Sort of..." Grim started but jumped back when Floyd grinned at him menacingly.

"We can't have Shrimpy being hurt, now can we?" he flashed his sharp teeth at the sleeping prefect. "We'll take 'em off your hands, fix 'em up real nice."

"Will we get them back?" Ace asked, fearing the answer. Jade responded with a squinty smile.

"That remains to be seen."

"Hey, wait a minute-!" Deuce tried to protest but was cut off when Floyd lifted your limp body with two hands and flung you over his shoulder.

"Careful, Floyd," Jade warned. "We can't have damaged goods."

The unfortunate trio was left to watch as you were hefted into the Mostro Lounge, wondering if they would ever see you again.

Meanwhile, in the Mostro Lounge, Azul was peacefully tallying profits in his office when his door was kicked down.

"What the-" he shrieked. Azul stared in horror as Floyd barged into the room with a body flung over his shoulder. "Did you... Did you actually kill someone this time?"

"Not this time," Floyd responded cheerfully. Azul managed to stand up from his chair right before Jade swept everything off of the polished mahogany desk in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" Azul yelled but was quickly silenced when Floyd set your limp body down on the now-empty desk. "Is that Y/N?"

"Yup!" Floyd said, popping the "p" with a sly smile.

"Are they...?" Azul asked hesitantly.

"Just sleeping, fortunately," Jade responded with a similar grin. "But I'm afraid it's the work of magic. They won't wake until..."

At this point Azul was very concerned. His crush was unconscious on his desk and his business associates were far too smug to have good intentions.

"Until what? Seven's sake, just tell me why you brought them here!"

"Very well," Jade bowed his head in respect that felt more mocking than anything. "The prefect will remain asleep until they are woken up by true love's kiss. It is the belief of myself as well as Y/N own friends that you may be able to fulfill this requirement."

It must have been at least a full minute before Azul spoke again.

Jade waited patiently with a smile as Azul stared in shock and confusion, the gears behind his eyes obviously turning at superhuman speeds.

Azul finally snapped back into his regular businessman persona.

"Well, of course, I am obviously the most qualified candidate to undertake his task," Azul said nonchalantly, though both eels could easily tell it was a front.

"We'll leave you two alone then!" Floyd winked suggestively at Azul, the octopus' calm facade cracking ever so slightly.

Jade and Floyd shut the door to Azul's office and he could hear their laughter through the wood.

Azul took a deep breath and looked at your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, your forehead free from worried wrinkles and lips devoid of any kind of scowl. Azul was used to being on the receiving end of some of these scowls/ incredulous looks. He couldn't deny he might have deserved some of the scrutiny you gave him, given that he did attempt to trick your friends into contracts so you would have to come visit him to save them. Perhaps if you wanted him to stop, you should stop wearing that adorable pout when you confront him!

You took a breath and Azul stood up so fast it scared him.

"Sevens," Azul muttered, running a hand through his hair. "When did I get this jumpy?"

He looked at you once more, taking in every still detail about you.

"Might as well stare, since you'll never be this calm around me again," he whispered as if he was afraid you would hear him through your enchantment. He sighed contentedly as he stared at your sleeping face.

After only a few seconds, he snapped himself back out of it.

"Stop it, Azul, that's creepy," he scolded himself, taking to pacing around his room. "Though to be fair, kissing someone who is under an enchanted sleep is far more creepy than just looking at them."

He peered at you again. Though it was easy to admire your serene expression, it was uncanny to see your face motionless, without a laugh or groan or yell behind it. Azul took a deep breath and steeled his nerves.

"Even if they hate me forever, it's worth a shot," he quietly hyped himself up. "But isn't it just true love's kiss? There's no way I'm their true love, that would be impossible. They dislike me far too much. But I would never forgive myself if I could have saved them..."

Azul grappled with his inner thoughts for who knows how long, before landing on the conclusion that he should just go for it and kiss you.

"If they do wake up, I'll apologize profusely until they forgive me for kissing them and then possibly draft a marriage contract...?" Azul hit himself in the head to snap himself out of it. "Stop it. Now's not the time to be thinking about that."

Azul took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

"Oh, screw it!"

He exclaimed and rushed back to his desk, pressing his lips to yours before he could rethink it. It was the slightest kiss, barely even a kiss. Azul wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he had truly taken advantage of you.

He turned away faster than even the brief kiss. He held his breath, trying to notice tiny details about his walls to distract himself from the tension.

"What is... Where am I?"

Azul spun around, eyes wide with genuine shock. Upon seeing you groggily looking around, he straightened and cleared his throat.

When you turned toward the noise, you saw Azul, the absolute picture of perfection he always was. You would never have known he was feeling anything akin to anxiety if it weren't for the nervous tapping of his custom-tailored leather shoes.

"Azul?" You narrowed your eyes, taking in your environment. You were laying on a table, alone in a small room with Azul. "What is this? Don't tell me you finally got the tweels to drug me."

Azul opened his mouth to protest, a bit concerned that you were so used to stuff like that that you just sounded tired instead of worried, but he remembered his gentlemanly guise and rethought his next words.

"Honestly, Y/N, do you really think me so cruel?" Azul smirked, praying to the Seven for an excuse you would buy so he wouldn't have to explain the real situation. "I was not the one who brought you here. You were merely... dumped on my doorstep, shall we say."

"I just remember Ace and Grim screwing around in alchemy and they dropped some dumb potion..." You put together vague pieces of your memory before it clicked. "Ooooh, sleeping potion. I was knocked out, wasn't I? Bit stupid of those idiots to bring me here, but isn't that how they always are."

You jumped off the table as if you hadn't just been passed out. Azul was honestly surprised by your chipperness. You sighed and turned to him.

"So what did you do? What do I owe you?" You looked at Azul expectantly. He blinked a couple times before he felt embarrassing heat rise on his neck.

"I didn't- well I- that is to say-" Azul stared, scrambling for words. Nobody but you could make him this inarticulate. He took a deep breath and collected himself. "You don't owe me. If anything, I should be paying you for recompense."

You furrowed your eyebrows, very skeptical of any supposed kindness coming from NRC's resident schemer.

"What do you mean recompense? What happened?"

"I may have-" Azul coughed, trying to brush off what was so clearly bothering him. "This particular enchantment required-" Another cough. "I believe the particular wording was a true love's kiss. I provided a kiss of such manner. Because of the impropriety of this particular cure, I feel a certain responsibility to compensate you for such lack of consent."

You stared for a long time. Azul imagined that must have been what he looked like when Jade first told him about your condition.

"True love's kiss..." You trailed off, subconsciously bringing your fingers to your lips.

"Yes and I will be happy to provide compensation for emotional or physical damages or- or other."

You looked at Azul incredulously.

"You just told me you're my true love and you think I want money?!"

Azul was quite confused now.

"Do you not want money?"

"Well, I could always use it but at the particular moment, what I really want is for this dumb octopus to come and give me a real kiss."

...

🪞 Vil Schoenheit 🪞

It had been a few hours since you had been unceremoniously dumped on Pomefiore's doorstep. Apparently, some alchemical accident had happened, leaving you magically asleep with no known cure. Crowley had dropped your limp body at Pomefiore and offered extra credit to anyone who could fix you. It only made sense. After all, the Fairest Queen was quite proficient at potions, and so Vil prided himself on the same.

No one else had dared touch you once he spotted your body and glared at them. He had Rook carry you to the makeshift potions lab next to Vil's room. Rook, ever the drama queen, took every step to ensure your comfort while in your enchanted sleep. He set you up on a table with plush pillows and a lacy blanket. Vil thought the flowers Rook had arranged in your hands were a bit excessive but he was more preoccupied with finding a cure.

Vil told himself he was doing it for the extra credit, but really, anyone who knew him knew he didn't need it. Some part of him didn't like seeing you cursed.

For the past two hours, Vil had been rifling through every potion book he had, trying multiple recipes and feeling a little more disheartened every time it didn't work. One of the elixirs he whipped up burned right through his potted fern. He elected not to test that one on you.

Eventually, Vil came upon a book about curse-breaking.

"Can't believe I didn't see this before," he muttered to himself, flipping open the table of contents.

There was only one page on sleep spells. Vil ran his finger over the passage as he read it.

"The only way a sleep spells can be reversed is thought true love's..." Vil interrupted himself with a scoff. "That's ridiculous, that can't be the only way."

He looked over at your sleeping form, clutching your bouquet of flowers. The color was drained from your face and even the shade of your clothes looked grayer. Vil felt a pang of emotion, like a hand squeezing his heart at the sight of you so lifeless.

You were usually so full of life, bringing joy to those close to you. You stayed just out of the limelight, content to support your friends in their shenanigans but having your own fun outside of the public eye. Oftentimes, you took Vil along with you, giving him a taste of what it's like to be treated like a normal person.

It disturbed him so see you devoid of a smile or eye-roll or any sort of emotion that you wore on your sleeve.

No matter what it took, he would find a cure.

"You've already found a cure," Vil imagined you saying to him. "You're just too scared to use it."

"What do you know?" Vil grumbled quietly. Had he really fallen so far he was talking to himself? He wished you were really talking to him, really showing signs of life, even if it was to scold him. "There must be another cure somewhere. I don't care how long it takes me to find it."

"You know true love's kiss is the most powerful thing in the world," Vil's imaginary you said. "There isn't another way. And besides, would you rather me be awake now instead of in the 6 months it takes you to find something else?"

Vil huffed, more annoyed by the fact that he really didn't want to wait than what you were saying.

"Then why don't you tell me how to find your true love, hm? That'll take me longer than 6 months."

His imaginary you just stared at him, blinking pointedly. He stared back, trying to decipher what his psyche was trying to tell him.

"You don't think..." His face fell when he realized what that look meant. "It's not me, believe me."

"Well, some part of you obviously thinks it could be, because I think it could be you and I'm just in your head," you shrugged.

"I refuse," he immediately declared, turning away from where your real self laid. "If you were real, you would not agree. And by the way, who am I to kiss you while you're asleep?"

Vil looked over at your peaceful face and he swore he could see incredulity in your motionless expression.

"Stop looking at me like that, potato. I refuse to kiss you without proper consent."

Imaginary you stared at Vil again, unsettling him more.

"Come now, I don't need this from both of you," he picked up a potion book, pretending to read it.

"You could save me," imaginary you offered, your voice solemn in a way he couldn't imagine perfectly. He'd never heard you that serious. Guilt suddenly hit him in the chest, drawing his attention back to you.

Vil stared at you longingly for much longer than he would have allowed himself if you were conscious. He groaned and walked towards you.

"I want to save you, Y/N," Vil declared wistfully as he stood over you. "I do know if I can be your true love, but Seven, I'm out of ideas."

Vil leaned closer to you and brushed a hair out of your face.

"Maybe I'll be able to do this right one day."

Vil brought his lips to yours gently, barely touching them before he pulled away. He watched your face for any signs of movement. When you stayed stationary, he turned away, trying to shut out his disappointment.

"Honestly, when did I get so delusional?" Vil scoffed, desperately trying to push down his feelings. "In what sort of foolish fantasy do I count as Y/N's true love?"

"Mine, probably."

Vil whirled around, his usual grace abandoned in his shock at hearing your voice in his ears in lieu of his head.

You groaned as you sat up, a bit confused as you examined the flowers you were holding.

"Sorry, that was probably a dumb thing to say," you laughed, shocking Vil with how easily you adjusted to your surroundings. "Though I guess you really are my true love. You can't try to deny it, I've got the receipts."

Vil's lip quirked up at your instant snap back to teasing.

"My word against yours, potato."

...

Buy me a Kofi! ☕

[yawnderu]

Sharing an air bnb with Nikto during mandatory leave because you trust each other. Finally getting to see his face, cuddling in a big jacuzzi tub.

Gaining Nikto's trust wasn't easy. The behemoth of a man had a fragmented mind, too broken from Zakhaev's torture, and yet the utmost effort you put into getting to know him proved fruitful after months.

“Jesus fuck. Put that thing away, Misha.” Your attempts at shielding your eyes are met with a laugh, feeling the water shift around your body, a mass of pure warm muscle pressing on your side. 

“... Is it hidden now?” His eyes crinkle, the smile of pure amusement hidden beneath his mask. Nikto doesn’t feel uncomfortable with nudity, and while joining you in the jacuzzi only happened because of the vodka warming his stomach up and giving him liquid courage, he was enjoying your reaction.

“Да. You can look now.” Your fingers part in front of your eyes, glancing up at him before looking down, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realize the bubbles are covering his lower body. 

“I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by… cock.” Despite the initial surprise, there’s nothing but pure mirth dancing with your words. You feel his arm drape over your shoulder, pulling you closer, the smell of hard liquor hitting your nose, explaining why he’s being touchier than usual. 

“You’re welcome.” Despite how unpleasant and rowdy Nikto can be, your company served as a soothing balm, a small break from all the chaos going on in his head. There’s hesitation in his actions as he reaches towards the straps of his mask, his fingers stilling for a few seconds, your curious eyes looking up at him with an innocence that he finds endearing. 

“I take it off sometimes.” Not exactly a lie, yet not exactly the trust either— Nikto does remove his mask, though never in the presence of anyone else. The fear of getting judged for his face scars will always be there, and it took him months to gather the courage to even think about showing it to you.

The straps of his mask are removed with little to no effort, yet he doesn’t fully remove the mask yet. You can see the fear and doubt dancing within his light blue eyes as he holds the rough material, the only barrier between both of you. “I’m not going to judge, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your reassurance is accompanied by your hand running up and down his back, gentle caresses that he never allowed himself to receive from anyone, until you came along. It seemed to be the only confirmation he needed, as the mask slips off, placed on a table nearby before he finally turns to look at you. 

You admire his features for the first time, your eyes running all over his face for a few seconds. Nikto has a slightly crooked nose —likely from being broken one too many times—, the skin on his face more pale than the rest of his body, and the scars lingering all over his face. They look like chemical burns, running from his chin, up to his forehead, his skin tainted in a light red color. 

“You look pretty.” Pretty. The word almost makes him scoff, his gaze drifting around the jacuzzi before looking back at you, pure vulnerability in his expression. 

“I’m serious.” You insist, leaning closer to him before your wet hand reaches up, cupping his cheek. The suddenness of your actions is almost enough to make him flinch, and yet he decides to stay still, a part of him craving the praise after so many years of being lonely, of being broken. 

Your thumb runs along his skin, being extra careful with his scars, even if they no longer hurt physically. The reverence in your eyes mirrors his, nothing but pure trust and worship displayed in your actions. Your soft finger runs across his cracked bottom lip, taking your time to continue admiring his features before he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours.

[allfearstofallto]

Ok so, I've been having this taught of reader falling into a coma and not remembering anything from what happened before waking up. Which yandere do you think would take advantage and which would feel bad about doing so?

And why is it Diluc?

You were told you told a nasty fall. Right down the stairs at that. You're quite the clutz, one of your maids joked to you, but it's not like you'd remember. Everything about yourself, other than your name was blurry. Your name and something else. Red hair. Long red hair flowing down his back. Other than that, your mind was empty of memories, like you'd been reset with nothing.

"Master Diluc will be here shortly," the maid said with a smile as she used a wet cloth to dab the knot on your forehead. Swollen and painful, you could see the water in her bowl turning red from the dried blood, but she still smiled. Almost as if she enjoyed tending to you, "He's been dying to see you. You've had him worried sick, my lady,"

"Diluc...?" You repeated his name back, it felt foreign on your tongue, yet all too familiar at the same time. You forced yourself to think on that name as you'd done your own and nothing came up. Just empty, hollow, and blank.

She chuckled at your response, "Your husband! My boss. Master Diluc?" She tested these words while staring into your eyes, waiting for any sign of familiarity, but that flicker never lit in your eyes, and you grew more and more confused as she spoke. She watched your face change and in turn, hers did as well. You recognized the expression she was making. A look of worry and fear, that she tried to mask.

"I-i...have a husband?" You asked. The idea sounded crazy even to you. You'd gotten married and completely forgotten the person, forgotten the wedding, forgotten yourself.

Her little bowl was sat to the side and she dusted her hands on her apron. Moving quickly, she gave you a weak, worried smile as she marchd to the door, "I'll go get master Diluc." She said hurriedly, and she was gone. Leaving you in an unfamiliar room, with a strangely comforting ticking of a clock.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and he stepped in. He looked serious, almost scary, but also strangely remorseful. His eyes danced over to your forehead, where the bump was, then back to your face. His lip quivered as he knelt down at your bed side, reaching out to take your hand and being surprised that you allowed it. But his touch was gentle, he traced his thumb up and down the back of your hand, testing words on his tongue before he finally asked, "What do you remember?"

A weak smile formed on your lips. How could you tell him nothing? Or that all you had were bits and pieces of memories and even then, they weren't anything to go by. Yet that little shy smile was more than enough to tell him what you were thinking. He grimaced a bit before taking your hand and squeezing it, his touch was warm, borderline hot against the back of your hand.

"I'm your husband, Diluc Radnvindr and you're my wife. We've been married for two years," he spoke slowly, as if he were explaining this all to a child who wouldn't understand, "We live just a little bit outside of Mondstadt, I own a winery and the surrounding land as well."

At his mention of marriage, you looked down at your hands. Bare. Not even the indent of a ring on your finger.

"We don't have rings?" You questioned curiously, but sure enough, when you looked at his hand, he was wearing his wedding band dutifully. A plain gold band that wrapped around his finger.

Diluc's face tensed when you asked the question. It was an odd expression, not the type to face you expected your husband to make. But he still reached into a table at your side, opening a velvet box and showing you a similar gold band, only this one sparked with jewels and gems. It looked practically brand new. Not even a scratch or fingerprint on it. Almost like it'd never been worn.

"You always told me you weren't too fond of rings," he muttered, but his face looked sorrowful, "I couldn't force you to wear it so you never did."

You looked at that ring and you saw pure beauty. It looked like it was forged with love. You couldn't imagine why you didn't wear it, it was to pretty to not be seen. When you slipped the ring out of the box and onto the finger, Diluc made a face that was a mixture of surprise and horror. You gave him a questioning glance, but only was met with a stiff, but reassuring smile.

Days went by with you being a doting wife to Diluc, but the back of your mind something always felt wrong, like you were doing everything wrong. When you questioned why Diluc always ate his meals in his office, he did sit and eat with you at the table, but the maids looked confused at the sight of him. When you mentioned that it was strange that you and Diluc had supposedly been married so long, but didn't share a room, he allowed you into his bed. But even seemed uncomfortable by your presence.

Your dreams were restless that particular night. You dreamt of memories that you'd forgotten like you were living through them again. It was pouring rain and your heart was pounding. As you ran through the gardens, your feet bare and filthy with mud, all you could think was that you had to get away. But away from what?

Your heart thumping in your ears seemed even louder than the rainfall, your clothes soaked, fear being the only thing that pushed you further. When your wrist was grabbed, you screamed. Screamed harder than you had in your entire life. You expected to see a stranger when you turned, but instead you were met with familiar red hair, and angrier red eyes. Diluc.

He struck you. Hard across your cheek. It was a stinging slap, only calmed by the cold rain water hitting your face. Before you could even get the chance to fight, Diluc was dragging you back the way you came. Towards the manor. Towards your prison. You dug your feet into the mud, but you didn't stand a chance against his superior strength.

When you awoke in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes threatening to cry, his arm over your waist felt more like a restraint than a comfort. He slept peacefully right next to you as your mind tried to make sense of your dream, your memory. A pit formed in your stomach, a feeling of fear and worry as you thought about every strange thing about your marriage. About the strange way the maids looked at you. About how Diluc himself seemed almost surprised by what you assumed was typical martial affection. You swallowed hard as faint memories came flooding back. And the sudden realization of the fact that you were being lied to. And the liar, the cause of all of it, was nuzzling his face into you side.

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny couldn't tell you what he expected, but it most definitely wasn't this.

Time and Space were weird in the Infinite Realms, both bending to the will of their masters and no one all at once. They didn't follow a line or a path. Time and Space did as they wanted. Fitting, considering who their masters are.

The first time Danny was ten years old, his Grandfather killed him. He remembers that, in an effort to save him, his mother submerged his body in the Lazarus Pits he and his brother had been warned about ever going near.

As it was explained to him, the Infinite Realms has a base level of sentience at the very least. She allows herself to peak into the worlds She cradles to keep an eye on them. She found Danny when his mother had lowered him into the water and She claimed him as Her own. She bent Time to Her will, making Danny a toddler again, before bending Space to drop him in the world that would most allow him to grow. She promised that She would come back for him when the time was right.

The first time Danny was fourteen, after the second time he had been ten, he died. The parents he had learned to accept as his own tried to open an unnatural gateway into the Infinite Realms. He was the one to turn it on. The electricity of the mortal world killed him, but the energy from the Infinite Realms revived him.

He remembers the whispers barely heard under his own screams. Whispers and imprints of "I'm sorry" and "I do not mean to hurt you" and "You will only grow stronger" and "Welcome back, my champion".

Danny can count on one hand the number of times he's felt safe between the first time he was six and the first time his was fourteen. He can tell you the names of exactly two places he has never felt the need to hide from.

The day Danny turned fifteen for the first time, he told his parents what happened to him. He knew, instinctually, that they would not understand, that they are researchers before they are parents. But he held onto the hope that had been trained out of him when he was first four years old. He had hoped that they would go against all odds and accept and help him.

He shut down the portal the very next day. He destroyed it and all of his parents' lives work. He would not stand by and let them hurt his people when he could not be there to interfere. He escaped back into the embrace of the Infinite Realms through Vlad's portal, giving him the Order to destroy it. The only way for the citizens of the Realms to enter the mortal worlds was to use natural portals, as unstable and unpredictable as they are. He would not risk them again.

He finds himself wandering listlessly, letting the Realms take him where She wants him to go. Sometimes She takes him to places that are completely empty, places where he can mourn what he lost without anyone finding him. Sometimes She takes him to his mentors and friends. Sometimes She takes him where he needs to be.

Danny finds the boy just as the natural portal closes behind him, the sickly green and black oozing like a festering wound.

The boy looks similar to Danny. His hair is spiked, his clothing dulled shades of a hero's costume under a black cloak, a mask covering his eyes, his body being more filled out to match his age. But Danny, on every level of understanding that he is and ever will be capable of, knows that this is his brother.

"Damian?" he whispers. The Realms push him forward. "Damian!"

Danny cradles the body of his brother, slowly sinking to the ground the Realms produce for him to land on. He carefully peels the mask from his face and lays it beside the katana on the ground.

As expected of anyone who finds their way into the Infinite Realms without proper protections, Damian has no pulse. He is not breathing. He is cold. The wound under his sternum is not bleeding.

Danny brushed his thumbs under Damian's eyes, his hands on his cheeks. "What did they do to you, ahki?"

Despite having no mortal ability to do so, Damian's eyes opened. He started ahead, blinking when his green eyes met Danny's. "Danyal?"

Tears fell from his eyes as he nodded. "Hi, Damian. You're here early."

Tears fell from Damian's eyes as well. He knew where he was. There was only one explanation. He couldn't feel himself breathing, nor could he hear his heart beat or his blood flow. There was no pain from where his mother had run him through.

"She killed me!" Damian cried into his brother's shoulder.

Danny held him tighter. "I'm so sorry," No one should ever have to go like that.

"Father couldn't save me."

"It's okay."

"Dick and Tim and Jason and Cass-!"

"Shh, ahki. You will see them again. I'll make sure of it."

The brothers held each other as they cried. The Realms wrapped Herself around the boys, comforting them as she could. Her champion and his brother, both children She had claimed and would protect.

Part 1 Storyboard

@anarinette

[backinmyphase]

Not the whole truth

Synopsis: You didn't know why, but Satoru Gojo was acting different than usual and not in a good way. Well, your husband was sure that you were lying to him.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3100 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups, much Angst, trowing up, mention of curses

I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit later than usual, I was feeling a bit sick and fitting with the chapter I threw up :') But I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment, I love to read your thoughts!

"Were you expecting a letter?"

Your husband Satoru Gojo doesn't even look at you as he speaks. Instead his face is expressionless, like a mask he was wearing. Almost like your mother.

He was acting so different from yesterday, it was scary. Did you cross a line?

"No, why? Did a letter come?"

His voice isn't heared a couple of seconds, until he spoke again. "Yeah, from your mother."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen as his words sunk in. She knew. She knew where you were. The house wasn't yours anymore, she knew. How? Since when? HOW?

Satoru's head rose and his eyes suddenly seemed so far away. Like an ocean you will never cross. Cold, like the icebergs in the Antarctica. Not like anytime you saw them before.

"Oh really?"

You kept your voice steady as you took a grape from the offered lunch of the hotel.

"Yeah, here." he slided the piece of paper across the small table to you. Your name written in the handwriting you knew so well. "Does she write you regularly?"

Your mind froze as you thought back. Yeah, she did. But not because of the reason he thought she did. Not because she was worried about her precious daughter. No, more like she worried about her hopefully grandson.

You just nodded and wanted to open the letter as his warm hand grabbed yours.

For a moment he seemed approachable. His eyes bigger than before he looked at you with almost desperation in those deep eyes.

"Are you really close with her?"

The piece of paper sank deep into your skin as you looked at him. What should you do? You couldn't let him know, your mother would kill you! But...

It was so hard when he looked at you like that.

Your hands fiddled with the piece of the paper and drew your whole attention. They were twitching. You wanted to rip them out.

"Yes, I am." the lie left your mouth like a rock falling down a mountain. Fast but not safe. "Didn't I tell you that already?"

His eyes and mind closed from you eight in front of your eyes. You could see his emotions being pushed down and his body sitting up straight.

"Well, then." he stood up to go to the bathroom. "Could you tell me later what was written inside?"

You just nodded as he left. What happened since yesterday? What did you do? How did you get in this situation?

+:★:+*━━━ A bit ago ━━━*+:★:+*

The bed was cold. So so cold. Your consciousness slowly grew as you shivered at the unexpected coldness under the covers of the big bed.

He wasn't here.

Did you wake up early than usual? Normally he would wake you by accidentally being a bit louder when he came back from his round around the town. But Satoru didn't seem in sight.

Your body had the usual heaviness it was yesterday freed from. It wasn't easy to leave the bed but you wanted to get up.

You felt terrible.

The tiredness became unreal. Why couldn't you just be well rested after that much sleep? It felt like a boulder pressed your body down and chained you to the bed. Your body seemed so lazy.

Legs heavy, you slowly made your way to the bathroom. The clock surprising you.

10:24?

That couldn't be right. No, Satoru should have showed up by that already! And you surely haven't slept that much! Right?

As you looked at your things you needed to get ready, you sighed. There it was like every morning. The hairpin of your mother, your wedding present.

Why did you even take it with you? Yes, it was pretty but the guilt that came with it was far more influence. And you didn't even use it!

It almost seemed to look at you disappointed.

Your exhaustion was really getting out of hand! Maybe you should talk to Hina's grandmother for advice against sleeping problems...

As you began to brush your teeth, you this feeling of uneasiness began to creep up your back. Slowly, like a someone was watching you. Like something will happen...

The sound of the door opening made you cough up your toothpaste.

"Er, phew! Satoru?" you called over your shoulder while washing your face.

"Yeah?"

"Did you have trouble?" you dried your face trying to get your eyes to open properly. "You're later than usual."

He kept quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

The silence after that wasn't like the silence yesterday. It was awkward, you didn't know what to say. You couldn't explain it, but he sounded different. He didn't sound like smiling.

"I'm going down to eat lunch." his voice got a bit more quiet and moved away. "I didn't get anything."

"Okay." you didn't know what was happening, but something was wrong. The comfort of yesterday wasn't seen in any corner, didn't matter how much you searched for it.

Oh, god you did something wrong, didn't you?

+:★:+*━━━ Now ━━━*+:★:+*

Your letter weighed heavy in your hand. And as you opened it, the weight only seemed to grow.

Dear daughter,

I hope this letter finds you enjoying yourself. Well, after all that's what you so desperately seem to want. You can count yourself lucky, your slip up is being forgiven. The higher ups seem to be of the opinion that you acted for the greater good and just didn't think. That you wanted to take action in the matter heir.

They expect that you will expect a child when you come back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were. Your vacation isn't frowned upon, as long you don't forget why you took it.

Enjoy your days, Sincerely, your mother.

On the back was the date of your next meeting engraved. She didn't write you anything else. You felt like throwing up.

Taking action in the matter heir? Expecting a child? You weren't close to anything like that!

What would they do to you, if they find out? No, when they find out? What will your mother say?

The table full of things to eat was suddenly all grey. You didn't feel hungry anymore, even though you didn't eat much.

Tears began to form in your eyes. You couldn't help it. The reality of what you were supposed to do came crushing down on you, making no room for the lightness of yesterday.

You desperately rubbed your eyes, trying to stop the tears but it was no use.

You couldn't show yourself like this to Satoru.

Your room didn't have the thickest walls, he would hear you in the bathroom. So you moved to the bathroom for the guests that weren't staying over the night and tried to calm down.

What were you supposed to tell Satoru?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru knew that he should have given you both letters. But there was this uneasiness in the room with all these questions.

Why did these old hags even write you?

He couldn't explain it to himself. And he wanted to open the letter so bad to find the answer. But...

He didn't want to open letters that were for you. That felt so wrong. Like he was using your trust and god he didn't want you to be mad at him again.

But did you even trust him?

If you did, why were you lying to him? You seemed to have anything but a good relationship with your mother. But when he asked you, you insisted that you did. Two times.

Your face as you looked at the letter wasn't screaming happiness. No, it was confusion and even something like fear.

Did you think you could fool him?

The mirror was fogged as he left the shower. He felt uneasy. Like he wasn't seeing something he should.

Sighing, he started to get ready. Maybe he was over thinking. Maybe you did have a good relationship with your mother. You did have meetings with her a couple of times.

Which were really long...

The meetings?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You don't look well. Are you okay?"

In fact you looked like you had cried. But you didn't seem to show that to him, meaning you smiled at him like that would be a prove.

"Yeah, don't worry."

He couldn't stand this charade that you played now. But he decided to play along. "What did she write to you?"

"Oh, the usual. I should greet you from my mother. She wished us a good honeymoon and that we would enjoy our time." the laugh that followed was more than forced.

He felt his patience slipping away. "I thought she didn't like me?"

You looked at him like he was speaking another language. "I mean yeah-, but your still my husband which she respects." the fastness with wich you spoke gave you away.

You were nervous. Why were you this nervous in his presence?

"Ah."

"Are you okay?" you looked at him with a frown. "You seem on edge."

Oh and how he was on edge. Who wasn't, when they knew they were being lied to?

"Yeah, just a bit stressed." he couldn't help but look at the letter in your hands. "Have the feeling there is a curse nearby."

"A curse?" your eyes were grewing big. "Here?"

"I will look for it later." he was sure he needed some time alone after this. "We can go to the restaurant some other time, right?"

You nodded, a terrified look in your eyes. "Of course!" you stood up. "I should go to our room, I don't want to hinder your work."

"Wait."

Now or never.

"I wanted to ask you something."

You stopped. Your tense back to him. "What is it?"

"Did the higher-ups bother you with something? Regarding our marriage?" he cleared his throat. "Just curious."

You didn't look at him, just muttered a small 'No' and 'Is there anything else?'

He let you go upstairs. Now he was sure of it. You kept something from him. And this something was in those letters.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru was out for hours.

You were worried about him. He seemed so out of it this morning. And then these questions...

Was he onto something?

You couldn't afford his mistrust. Not when your whole purpose is making an heir!

That sounded so wrong.

You looked at the books on your night table he bought for you. They were all a bit different. Some a different genre. Like he wanted to make sure you had at least on book that you would like.

You hated yourself for lying to this man.

You sighed as the usual tiredness overcame you again. Grabbing a book you read. Just wanting to forget this morning.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was late. The moon was already up and as he went up the stairs he knew that you would already be in bed.

He canceled your reservation.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to ho there anymore. Not after he read what these douchbags were writing you.

Not after he knew what you kept from him.

He opened the door slowly and careful trying not to wake you. You were curled up on the bed, you seemed to shiver.

On the table next to you the second letter.

"Satoru, is that you?" your teeth were chattering.

"Yeah, it's just me."

He felt so dumb as he looked at you. So dumb for thinking you could just have a normal honeymoon, when you weren't even in love.

"Need your warmth." you sniffled. "Please?"

He was fighting with himself. He didn't want to invade your personal space, not after reading all of that. Not when you thought of it like it was your duty to-

He shivered just thinking about it.

But at the same time he didn't want you to be cold. And how could he deny his darling wife?

"I'm coming." very carefully he laid himself next to you, trying to avoid touching you, just carefully hugging you. "Is that better?"

You seemed to sleep already.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was so cold.

Your body felt like being pushed around, everything seemed to spin. Your hands felt frozen, like they didn't were under the covers.

Your throat was dry and something sticky seemed to make itself home in it. The force that held your eyes closed was so strong.

The spinning didn't seem to end.

Wait, a second... It didn't just feel like your body moved, it did!

With much willpower you forced your eyes to open and slowly turned around. And your blood seemed to freeze with your body.

There was Satoru sleeping but had a frown on his face. And a distance between you. But not because he moved, you were pushed back. By something you couldn't see. By infinity.

...

You forced yourself up, away from the bed. Everything started to make sense. He wasn't comfortable in your presence. After yesterday he searched for distance, even in his subconsciousness.

You were to pushy, god, why were you so pushy?!

Slowly you took steps back, trying to get away from the invisible wall that so clearly pushed you away. Almost stumbling you went into the bathroom.

01:24

Kinda ironic.

As you looked in the mirror you gasped. You looked like a corpse. Your fingers in the light even a bit blue. Panic started to rise and pushed you onte the ground.

Spit began to collect in your mouth and your stomach twisted. Your head was so heavy as you slided over to the toilet.

And then it just fell all out.

Your stomach twisting and turning, the pain slowly leaving but your eyes were burning even more.

It seemed to go for hours as you sat there. Defeated, so so powerless.

You felt disgusting.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You didn't know how, but somehow you collected all your pieces and cleaned everything before falling onto the couch.

It was harder then the bed, but that didn't bother you anymore. The distance between you was far more important now.

He seemed to sleep so peaceful now.

He had moved since you stood up. God, now you were the one watching him sleep, you should get your act together.

But even though you were so so tired, you couldn't sleep.

Your surrounding seemed to watch you and the uneasy feeling from the morning came doubled back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were.

They knew where you were. They could just come. Maybe even tomorrow. And even though you knew that would be unreasonable, the fear didn't leave.

You wanted to cry. But it was so cold.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was early than usual. Satoru was still sleeping as your eyes opened. Your body was heavy but the feeling of disgust with yourself made you move.

Normally you wouldn't go downstairs, you would hjust read. But you didn't want to be there when he woke up. No that would be unbearable.

So you went into the bathroom again, the crime scene of the night nowhere in sight. The hairpin waiting for you on the counter like it was ready to stab you.

A laugh escaped your lips.

Your mother really couldn't leave you alone, even now she stole herself into your thoughts.

Why were you even here?

Trying to get away from all of these curses in this hotel room, you hurried as you stepped the staircase down. You really needed a light chat with Hina's grandmother.

And some tips against bad sleeping.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru hadn't slept so bad in a long time. He turned and turned but couldn't get any good position. And he was sure that that couldn't be normal.

Normally he had a rhythm in his sleep. Get the minimum that you need and get up. He normally had to work after all.

But now his thoughts just couldn't shut up.

He woke up much later than usual. And he knew something was wrong when his six eyes were tired.

You weren't in the room.

The room was so coldly empty, his thoughts almost were silent. But only for a short time, they began to circle around the thing that was bugging him, even in his dreams.

Your lying.

And he knew he shouldn't, he knew that what he was doing was maybe much much worse than just lying but the letter from your mother was right next to him on the night table.

"Didn't I tell you that already?"

Fuck it. Maybe this was unreasonable, but he had to live with you for the rest of his life. And he hated secrets.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"Oh, Mrs. Gojo you look like you didn't sleep well, is everything alright?" the sweet elderly woman looked concerned as you sat down in front of her.

"Just trouble with sleeping. Do you have any tips?"

Her concern only grew in her eyes. "Well I drink warm milk before sleeping, I can bring you a cup every evening, if you want?"

You smiled at her. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She just nodded, hesitant smiling back. "It's naturally."

She brought you a hot chocolate, while she handled the organization of the guests. Turning the pages in the guestlist she spoke again.

"Were you happy to receive the letters?"

"Oh yeah, my mother is always a surprise." you began to chuckle a bit, but it died down in your sticky throat as you realized what she has just said.

"Oh I can relate! I write Hina always a couple of letters at the same time!" the woman chuckled a bit. "But I thought the two letters were from different people?"

"Oh they were." you tried to keep your composure even though the panic mixed with lots of anger made it really hard for you.

Really Satoru?

Two letters?

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[virginiathegray]

Lucanis X Flirtatious Purple Rook is so delicious and it "solves" all the "problems" (in quotes bc personally i love his romance regardless) people have with it. In this essay I will--

*spoilers for Veilguard below the cut*

Walk with me:

Lucanis seeing Rook flirting with the team, always joking and playing around, rarely serious. Lucanis not knowing how to respond when those flirtations are directed his way, so he brushes them off or outright ignores them (while internally blushing bc he's flustered)

Rook, regardless of whether they were genuine in their interest before, seeing that Lucanis is the only one who doesn't seem disarmed by their flirting and redoubling their efforts

Lucanis lowkey getting frustrated because he's got real feelings for Rook but he can't fathom that the interest is returned beyond these superficial winks and nudges

(Not to mention I firmly believe Lucanis is constantly assuming his feelings for Rook are just Spite's obsession with Rook trickling into his own perception of reality but that's a post for another time)

Lucanis finally calling Rook's "bluff" after Spite takes him over the second time, making a move on them while fully expecting them to back down and laugh it off

"This isn't a good idea." Am I talking to you or to myself? "You like to walk a little too close to the edge." You might be playing a game here, but I'm not. "At least I know I'm doing it." I know what I'm risking with these feelings, but do you?

But Rook DOESN'T back down. They're not bluffing. So he freaks out, pulls back, runs off.

Now Lucanis is the one reckoning with the idea that, uh, maybe Rook wasn't joking?? His relatively sparse romantic content in Act 2 fits, because in many ways he's having to figure out how Rook actually feels and how his feelings do or don't change as a result of that (not to mention all the family drama he's going through simultaneously)

Story continues, Lucanis realizing that Rook actually cares about him, reflected in the flirtation options being more tender and less flippant/suggestive. Rook being there for him in his darkest moments, pulling him from the prison in his own mind, etc

Fade prison happens. Lucanis agonizing for WEEKS thinking he's lost this person who brightened his life, feeling like he failed them. Then they get them out, and in the purple option there, Rook jokes again. They're trying to hold it together, but there's this little glance down, their smile falls just a bit, the mask of this unserious jokester dropping for a moment. And this time, Lucanis clocks it immediately.

"Impossible," he calls them, because despite everything, they're still trying to make him feel better, to pretend they aren't scared, that they aren't as devastated as they are. But they understand each other now, and Lucanis kisses them as this silent confirmation that he sees them, that Rook is loved, safe, here.

From that point on, Lucanis is so protective it hurts. He knows Rook is capable and strong, but he sees right past this unserious mask they wear now and knows how scared they are. He's going to war for them, and when he says he'll kill every god if it means they'll be safe, he means it.

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König

Probably can't write a full series for this but for now HEADCANNONS

He initially moved to a residential/suburban area because of his need for privacy. He couldn't stand being in barracks provided because it's too close for comfort and there's just too many people and not enough room

He grew up in a rural village which he would really, greatly prefer but his job doesn't allow him to have that amount of space and no neighbors. The upkeep would be too much

While he doesn't have the full amount of space he'd like, it's enough to keep him busy when he's not deployed and grant him the piece of mind he needs

When he's home and in his 'residential/domestic' mode, he's not wearing the mask. That's a quick way to signal him out and lets be real, it sets off red flags. He'd rather not have the police called on what looks like a very suspicious man, thanks.

Not wearing the mask is also a good way for him to come off of 'work' mode, where he can just be himself, no covering that up.

Plus it's for safety. He knows he's taking a risk by living off of base and he's a man with many enemies. Wearing something trademarked to him in an unprepared environment is a dumb idea and is a great way to end up six feet under

His front yard is pretty minimal but he has a lovely garden in the back. Half the reason he settled on the house that he did was because of the mature trees in the backyard that reminded him of home

When you moved in, König - as much as he didn't want to, made the move to introduce himself. The main motivator wasn't out of politeness but rather necessity. Since he's away for so long, he gives out his personal number and email just in case something happens with the house

He's genuinely surprised when you react positively and even ask if there's anything he'd like you to do when he's away (like collecting his mail, watering any plants)

He's so stumped by that, not having expected such hospitality, that when you ask for his name as you enter in his contact info, his brain short circuits. He tells you it's Kevin, because it's the first K name he could think of that wasn't distinctly Germanic.

Also he doesn't want to bring anyone into his work life. He moved out into the suburbs for a reason. König is who he is on field, that's his callsign. And, once again - safety reasons. If he went around, telling people who he was, he's asking to get another target painted on his back

Though you two initially don't really talk much, you still wave when you see him or wish him a good morning. Even if he's blunt and usually brusque, you never mind it and always try to make polite conversation while respecting his boundaries and need for space

Seeing each other in the mornings becomes routine. You're up for work while he's up tending to his garden (it's better to water early morning, he insists)

He's slow to warm up but when he finally does, he's surprisingly talkative

He really opened up to you because you showed express interest in his garden and flowers alike. You always listened to his advice or would ask specific questions to get him talking and when it came to explaining things, he could talk and talk and talk

The moment he was won over though was when you asked if he'd like help weeding his garden. Taking care of it was therapeutic to him (as tedious as it might be) and wanting to actually come over and spend time with him, even if it was a "chore" made him feel something that day

Being allowed into his yard, his botanical sanctuary, is as great of an award as you can get

He finds it significantly easier to talk when his hands are busy and when there can always be things to talk about (mainly his plants, he's so proud)

You learn of his plants, the fact that he's a private contractor (he conveniently leaves out the military part), and he'll start to actually talk about himself instead of avoiding questions for once

If it weren't from exertion reddening his face already, he's sure he would've turned as red as his tomatoes when you inquired about the off handed comment about his miniatures collection

No one had ever asked him about them - or actually taken them seriously. He's used to people making fun of such hobbies

But not you, you embraced him

Seeing your face light up with amazement and hearing your specific comments about the details he made in replicas of things such as his hometown and some of the fairytale stories he liked as a kid officially had his heart feeling the warm, fuzzy feelings that he usually ignored

The next morning, he was already planting your favorite flowers in his front yard 🪻

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

[synnamonroll666]

You Are Still Human

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Wendigo!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh breaks down over the fact that he cannot live a normal life since his possession and no longer believes that he is truly human. So you find a special way to remind him of his humanity... Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mental Breakdown, Insecurities, P In V, Creampie, Slight Choking, Rough Smut Animalistic Smut, Mention Of Breeding, No Foreplay Or Prep, Pain Kink-ish??? (Let me know if I missed any!) Word Count: 3.2k A/N: So I finally got this done! I didn't expect it to end up this long but as you can see, things got out of hand FAST. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤 Josh Washington Masterlist: 🖤 Taglist: @nuggetsandmoose, @maquillagebookmark, @wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee28374728, @bee-who-isnt-french

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

My tired feet slowly shuffle across the hardwood floor as I push myself through the front door of our shared home. I am exhausted after several errands that I had to run today, to say the least. But that's the price I have to pay for pushing them off until right at last minute. Though it wasn't exactly the extra work I had to do that pushed my mind and body to feel so worn out. My loving boyfriend decided to join me, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Ever since the... Incident... He hasn't wanted to go out into the world much. I understand his anxiety of being seen in public with his condition so I never push, but today he insisted on joining me on my mission to finish my to-do list. Perhaps he felt bad that all these burdens were placed on my shoulders with his lack of want to leave the house.

But unfortunately, a face mask to cover up his ripped cheek and sharpened canines was just not enough to cover what he has become. Recovery for Josh was long and hard and we had only just began talking about the possibility of cosmetic surgery. It was a long process before we could even begin worrying about such things.

After leaving the mountain, the spirit of the wendigo left him, not being able to leave where it is bound. But still, traces of an animal-like presence lingered in his behaviors and personality. We didn't know if restoring his humanity was possible, but the doctors were able to recover just enough to get him to a point of leaving the hospital to live a normal life. Though even then, I had to beg to convince them to let me take him home with me.

His parents were hesitant on letting me take care of him, but after some negotiating, they bought a secluded cabin in a swallow forest, just deep enough to give us privacy but not too deep that I would be trapped if I needed to get away. Josh's humanity was indeed resorted, but the primal animal was still within.

And that's where we are now. Josh has an odd habit of forgetting how to act "human" sometimes. Every once in awhile he will stare at someone random and growl lowly, or even nip at the air as though his need to feed was getting too intense. It was worrisome, to say the least. Sometimes I would stay up at night, fearing the one thing that I always worried was inevitable—that Josh would lose control once more.

Though time and time again, he would prove me wrong with a loving and warm cuddle at the end of the day. But sadly, tonight will not be so sweet. I can tell by the way Josh trudges into the living room, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. He wants to be left alone.

Though I understand this, I don't want to leave him with his thoughts again. Bad things happen when Josh is left alone with his thoughts. So I approach the doorway of the living room, leaning against the frame as I watch his tired form from afar. He seems defeated by the way he sat slouched against the soft cushions of our couch.

Slowly, I make my way to him step by step and sit on the couch, my eyes watching him to read his body language. He does not react to my presence, instead staring out into a void of nothingness like his mind is elsewhere. I reach over to the small end table by my side and pull its drawer open, only to retrieve a small, red bag.

I set it on my lap and then turn back to Josh, carefully taking on of his large hands in my own. They have grown a tiny bit since his possession, by an inch for each finger at least. Every part of his body has grown a bit since then. Sometimes it could feel a little intimidating. I run my thumb over the fragile, pale skin on the back of his hand before releasing a tired sigh.

"Your nails are getting long again, sweetheart. Shall I trim them for you?" I ask while reaching for the bag in my lap with my free hand, pulling the zipper to the side to reveal a bunch of nail care tools.

He does not respond verbally, but let's out a huff to let me know that he is fine with it. So with that, I begin my work, trimming and filing away at the sharp and jagged claws. It takes what feels like an hour to get them finished and looking nearly human again. In this time, Josh doesn't move a bit. He is so still, it's hard to tell he is even breathing. But once I finish and go to move my hands away from his, his boney fingers clasp my own.

"Thank... You..." He whispers faintly, his voice coarse and almost ghostly. Life glimmers in his eyes for a brief moment as his light irises study his hands.

But then, after a minute of admiring my work, he stands from his spot on the couch. He begins to pace around the coffee table in the center of the room, as if his mind is wandering, pondering something intense. I watch him for a few moments as he silently walks, feet shuffling along the carpet. But then, he mutters something...

"It's not enough..."

I almost do not catch it, until he repeats the words in a volume just slightly higher than before. But before I know it, Josh is pacing more frantically, whispering the sentence over and over. An eerie dread falls over my body as I watch him, his movements growing more panicked. He seems frightened and enraged, and those feelings seem to grow until he finally snaps, flipping over the coffee table in one swoop of his arms.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit!" He screams in a voice that sounds more like a howl from a wounded animal than anything else. "I'm so sick of being a fucking monster! I'm so fucking sick of people looking at me like one—like I shouldn't be with you or like I'm going to hurt you! I just want to be human again!"

I am stunned, sitting still as ever as if I'm afraid to move. That is until he breaks down, falling to his knees as he let's out a mournful sob. It's as if his spirit has been beaten down to the point of no return by this curse, every day stares, and the pressure of trying to be what he once was. Within a second, I am by his side on the floor, pulling him close to me and embracing him tightly.

"You're not a monster." I whisper sweetly as I caress his thinned out hair, just one more thing he has had to be insecure about since becoming human again. But it never lost its silky texture, which was what I had always loved the most about it.

He shakes his head and whimpers faintly, "I'm just a monster..."

I think for a moment. Usually it's pretty hard to break someone out of this mindset, especially Josh. He has a stubborn way of thinking, which makes it hard to convince him otherwise on a lot of subjects. I continue to pet his hair and think of back when he was human, how much he loved to show me just how much he loved me every day. Of course, a lot of times it would be through physical acts— And finally, it hits me. I know what will break him out of these self-abusive thoughts.

"I want you to prove to me that you're not a monster." I order firmly, which is enough for him to finally raise his head from where it is tucked in my shoulder and look up at me.

"W-What?" He queries just barely above a whisper—just barely enough for me to hear his quivering voice.

I gently caress his cheek, brushing my fingers over his deep scars as I clarify. "Prove to me that you aren't a monster. I know you can. Prove to me that you can feel all the emotions that a normal person can feel, and make me feel them as well in return."

He stares at me for a moment, eyes clearly uncertain about my rather intimate proposition. I can practically see the internal battle going on inside his mind through those glazed over pupils in the center of his white irises. Then, he let's out a shaky breath before biting his lip subtly—a risky habit he still carries from being human, but has to be more cautious doing now with his sharpened teeth.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." He whimpers like a hurt puppy, glancing back down at his fidgeting fingers.

"You won't," I say as I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me so he can see my sincerity. "I know you..."

He adverts his eyes once more, only this time looking down at the growing bulge under the rough fabric of his jeans—something I had failed to notice before. Josh had grown so backwards since his turning—so backwards that we haven't had sex since prior to it. I know it is killing him, especially since he was always the horniest guy I knew before this happened.

To make things easier for him, I place my hand on his thigh, resting right beside his needy member. He swallows thickly as he visibly shivers, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin as his temperature rises. It is a subtle action to test the waters and when I'm sure he is comfortable, my hand goes right to the spot I know he desires so much.

But as soon as my hand cups the twitching length through his pants, something changes. A soft growl is heard rumbling at the back of his throat, and when my eyes flick back up, I am met with a hungry and what looks to be primal gaze. His eyes are no longer soft and sorrowful, but hold something almost animalistic within them.

Before I can say anything, Josh scoops me up and throws me down on the couch, knocking a startled gasp to fly out from me that seems to fall on deaf ears. He is quick to cage me between his arms, and lower his body weight down over top of me to encase me in his grasp, like a predator sealing his prey's fate.

No words are spoken, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and rabid growls fill the air. His body temperature has risen even higher than I have ever felt from him, and as he presses his chest against mine to keep me locked in place, I can feel his racing heartbeat vibrating through his chest as well. It amazes me that he hasn't had a heart attack yet.

But still, it seems as if something is stopping him in place. A lost, uncertain, question glimmers in his orbs as though he is waiting for an answer. Though he is silent, I know what he is asking—the final thing he needs to take things to the next level.

"Go ahead, Josh. I'm ready." I breath faintly, giving him the permission he seeks.

As if from a movie, he tears our clothes off at a supernatural speed. I lay there, naked and dumbfounded as I look at the shreds of clothing that fell all around us, surrounding us like some sort of makeshift nest. I can't help but wonder how in the hell he managed to do that after I just clipped and filed his claws down, but I don't have much time to answer.

A shriek of shock, pain, and pleasure tears from my throat as I feel the familiar sting of something long and hard entering my canal, though this time in a more rough and fast way. Josh was always one for foreplay, but I guess there isn't time for that now, as he is already buried deep within me to the brim within just a split second.

His eyes hold a bit of remorse for only a mere moment, until that hunger returns. I barely have time to breathe as he retracts and enters at a pace I have never seen from him before. His hips pound furiously into mine, a subtle ache setting into my joints almost in an instant as he does his work.  His grip on my waist is enough to burst my organs, while his dull nails cut into my flesh, crimson liquid forming under them more and more with each flex of his fingers. If I hadn't have cut his nails before this, I'd be done for. But I feel like Josh would know to be more careful if there was an actual hazard.

The intensity of his tip hitting my g-spot over and over at a brutal force feels to be enough to actually bruise it. Josh was always so good at finding it but this is a whole new level. I push my head back against the cushions as a cry of painful ecstasy parts my lips. Gripping the edges of the cushions and ripped strands of clothing in my fists, I begin to squirm out of pure instinct. Of course, Josh doesn't like this very much. Before I know it, a tight hand is wrapped firmly around my neck, but not enough to actually hurt me. This shows me that deep down, Josh still has some control.

He pounds into me in a sloppy and rough rhythm, determined like an animal desperate to breed. Grunts, groans, and growls that sound less than human are all that are heard from him. I would be concerned if my mind was clear enough to pay attention. No, right now, all my senses were overwhelmed by Josh, cutting off my awareness of the world around us like a sweet death. I am out of my own body now, my soul flying high in the clouds of heaven.

To my surprise, he pulls out. A soft exhale escapes me has he let's go of my throat, but that's only to quickly flip me over so he can now get in from the back. As soon as he shoves his length back inside, he's moving at a pace yet again unimaginable while his claws grip my hips firmly. He is almost pulling me back onto his cock at times, so my hips can meet his own has he thrusts into me. It's so animalistic and natural and it feels so right. And by the feeling of it, it's just enough to satisfy Josh completely.

With a roaring howl, Josh finally finds the release he has been chasing for so long. His speed and strength increases as he comes undone within me, and he fills me to the brim as if he wants to claim me... Or maybe even breed me. It is all too much for me to bear. The sensation of his heavy load spraying into my sweet spot is enough to send me flying over the edge. I bury my face into the cushion as a shuddering moan falls from my lips, before my voice strains away to nothing. My whole body trembles as I practically melt beneath him, and my walls squeeze and quiver around his cock as though I'm practically begging for more.

Though soon that psychical need gives away into exhaustion as soon as my tense muscles relax once my high subsides, my body falling limp like I no longer can control it. I'm just a doll now, all at the mercy of the man who gives me life. He may think that because I help him to heal, I am his savior. But he couldn't be more wrong. Without Joshua, I would be in a darker place, drowning in my trauma of that night. But now, I have him. And in this moment of silence where nothingness hangs in the air, that thought enters my brain. A small smile curls the corners of my lips while I close my eyes, feeling peace as I soak up his warmth while his hot breath fans my shoulder.

He removes himself from me, both of us letting out a trembling whimper, the overestimation stinging our most sensitive areas momentarily. He does not waste a single breath on words, instead leaning down to capture my lips with his. He is careful—careful to not cut me with his long canines, but also holding a tenderness he used to show before all of this. He knows that I am at my most vulnerable at this time, and will take the most caution to not break me at my fine glass-like state. When he pulls away, he gazes upon me with tear-filled and passionate eyes, his orbs reflecting what seems to be gratefulness and love.

"That wasn't the wendigo in me..." He breathes faintly while raising a hand to caress my cheek in a way so tender that I feel as if I could cry. Though I raise a questioning brow at that statement, not knowing what he means. So he elaborates after taking another second to breathe, still worn out by our recent activities. "I just needed you that badly... So I guess that was the human in me, huh?"

I smile at that and nod, admiring how he blushes at what he admits. For someone who used to be so ballsy and open with his dirty thoughts, Josh could be pretty backwards at times. It was something I always adored so much about him. I run my fingers through his raven, disheveled hair while taking in his stunning features, a soft sigh leaving me before I whisper. "You can have me whenever you like, Josh."

Josh smiles and presses his lips to mine once more, and then lays his head on my chest. I watch him intently, taking note of how he smiles when he hears my heartbeat quicken ever so slightly at the sight of him on top of me. He gently rubs my sides, soon stopping to snuggle into my breasts, seemingly deciding that this nest of our torn clothing would be our bed for the night.

Josh always reminded me of a Great Dane in a way. Despite being a lot bigger than me, there was always enough space on top of me for cuddles in his eyes. It was always quite amusing to me each time his large form would envelope my own. I continue to pet his hair, soft strands threading through my fingers with each touch. He let's out a huff in contentment and kisses my left breast, the sensation of his lips on my skin being absorbed through my flesh and meeting my heart to caress it with the love he feels for me.

"Thank you..." He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower and coming out more like a purr due to his exhaustion. My eyes focus on him as he closes his eyes, taking one more deep breath and then continuing his sentence a mere second before he falls into a peaceful slumber on top of me. "For everything..."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐