#maybe?? I mean I’ve tried to before but

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Phainon x (fem) reader

Part1 part2 PART3

The group packed up quickly, with Tribbie cheerfully skipping ahead, Trailblazer casually snacking as always, and Dan Heng trailing behind with his usual quiet presence. Phainon lingered just slightly, trying to collect himself as his heart continued to race from Y/N’s earlier compliment.

He caught up as they began walking along a narrow path, the ancient stones of the city outskirts giving way to rough terrain. The air smelled faintly of moss and something metallic, and the ground was uneven beneath their feet.

Y/N walked ahead, her sword strapped securely to her back, her expression calm but focused. Phainon tried to focus on anything but how cool she looked.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her with a casual grin. “You were really amazing back there too, you know. The way you took down that big guy? Legendary.”

Y/N glanced at him, her face lighting up with a smile. “Thanks, Phainon. But it’s not really that impressive when you’ve had as much practice as I have.”

“Not impressive? Are you kidding?” Phainon said, his voice rising slightly. “You climbed a living boulder like it was a staircase! That’s… that’s beyond impressive! That’s—”

“Admirable?” Tribbie chimed in from ahead, turning to walk backward so she could grin at them. “Heroic? The stuff of legends? Keep going, Phainon, I’m enjoying this.”

Phainon stumbled over his words, shooting her a helpless look. “I mean, yeah, all of that! But I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

Trailblazer snickered, patting Tribbie on the shoulder as they both turned back to the path. Dan Heng, walking quietly a few paces behind, sighed audibly but said nothing.

Y/N just laughed. “You’re sweet, Phainon. But I couldn’t have done it without you all holding the others off. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Phainon flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, totally. Teamwork.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel the only sound. The scenery began to shift, with jagged cliffs rising on either side and strange, glowing carvings etched into the stone walls.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “The traces we’re following—there’s a higher concentration up ahead.” He gestured toward a fork in the path, one side leading to a darker, more enclosed area while the other veered toward an open, rocky clearing.

“Splitting up might save us time,” Y/N suggested, already assessing the terrain. “Dan Heng, you and Trailblazer could take the path on the left, and the rest of us can check out the clearing.”

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “It’s logical. But if either group encounters trouble, don’t engage until we regroup.”

Trailblazer gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. No heroics… unless they look really cool.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “Sure, just don’t die trying to show off.”

As Dan Heng and Trailblazer disappeared down the left path, the remaining trio headed toward the clearing. The rocky terrain was uneven, with glowing crystals jutting out at odd angles.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the area. “Let’s see if we can pick up any more traces.”

Tribbie wandered a little ahead, poking at the glowing crystals with her staff. “These things are so weird. I feel like if I touch the wrong one, the whole place might explode.”

“Maybe don’t touch them, then,” Y/N suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tribbie grinned, but she stepped back cautiously anyway.

Phainon, meanwhile, was sticking close to Y/N, his usual energy tempered slightly by the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, marveling at how calm and composed she seemed.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever, uh, get nervous? You know, before a fight or something?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering the question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned to channel it. Nervous energy can be useful if you use it right.”

“Huh,” Phainon said, looking thoughtful. “That’s… really smart. Makes sense, coming from you.”

Y/N smiled. “What about you? Do you ever get nervous?”

“Oh, me? Nah,” Phainon said quickly, puffing out his chest. “I’m as cool as they come.”

Tribbie snorted loudly from a few feet away. “Sure, Phainon. That’s why you nearly tripped over a rock trying to dodge one of those stone monsters earlier.”

“I was strategizing!” he said, his voice rising an octave.

Y/N laughed, and Phainon couldn’t even be mad about being called out because the sound of her laughter was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, Y/N crouched down, her sharp eyes catching something on the ground. She reached out and brushed away a layer of dust, revealing faint scorch marks and a few shards of glowing crystal.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said, holding up one of the shards for Phainon and Tribbie to see.

“Good find,” Phainon said, leaning closer to examine it. “You’ve got an eye for this stuff, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said with a shrug, slipping the shard into her bag. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever left these marks can’t be too far ahead.”

As they continued onward, Phainon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N every now and then, his golden-retriever smile never far from his face. Even in the middle of potentially dangerous territory, she had a way of making everything feel… lighter.

And if he tripped over a rock once or twice while sneaking glances at her, well, Tribbie was kind enough not to comment.

For now.

The group tread cautiously through the glowing clearing, the jagged terrain surrounding them like a maze of natural traps. The scorch marks and glowing shards scattered across the ground were undeniable signs that something was lurking nearby.

Y/N raised her sword slightly, the sharp metallic sound cutting through the tense silence. “Stay alert. We’re close.”

Phainon stepped closer to her, his signature golden-retriever grin still present, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “Don’t worry. If anything jumps out, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Mydei snorted from behind, his rough voice carrying just enough mockery to make Phainon glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t you almost trip over your own sword five minutes ago?”

“Strategic repositioning,” Phainon shot back, puffing his chest out. “You wouldn’t understand, Mydei. It’s a finesse thing.”

“Right,” Mydei drawled, his blonde-red hair catching the glow of the crystals as he cracked his knuckles. “I��ll keep that in mind while I’m taking down twice as many as you.”

Tribbie, skipping a few paces ahead, waved her staff around like it was a baton. “Oh, boy. Here we go again. The Phainon versus Mydei Show, round 57.” She paused, smirking over her shoulder. “You know, if you two spent half as much time fighting monsters as you do fighting each other, we’d have wiped this place clean by now.”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, grinding sound echoed through the clearing. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and from the shadows emerged hulking figures of stone and crystal.

The Titankin stood tall and menacing, their faceless, humanoid forms glowing faintly with runes etched into their surfaces. Some carried swords as broad as tree trunks, while others held bows strung with crystalline energy.

“Alright, guys,” Y/N said, her voice calm and commanding as she gripped her sword. “We’ve got company. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Hard? Please,” Phainon said, flipping his blade with a flourish. “This’ll be easy.”

“Bet I take down more than you,” Mydei challenged, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared for battle.

Phainon rolled his eyes but grinned. “Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N sighed. “Can you two not—”

“Ready? GO!” Phainon yelled, charging toward the nearest Titankin with Mydei hot on his heels.

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”

Tribbie giggled, hopping to the side as one of the archer-type Titankin fired a glowing arrow her way. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of fun watching them trip over themselves trying to one-up each other.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, dashing forward to engage one of the sword-wielding Titankin.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Phainon darted around the heavy strikes of a massive Titankin, his movements quick and graceful as he delivered a series of precise slashes to its legs. “That’s one down!” he called triumphantly as the creature crumbled into rubble.

“One?” Mydei scoffed, delivering a powerful uppercut to another Titankin, causing cracks to spiderweb across its torso. He followed up with a crushing blow that sent it collapsing in a heap of stone. “Two for me!”

“Oh, come on!” Phainon shouted, narrowly dodging a glowing arrow. “That one didn’t even put up a fight!”

“Don’t be mad just because I’m better,” Mydei retorted, smirking as he squared off against another enemy.

“Better at being annoying, maybe!”

Y/N, meanwhile, was weaving through the battlefield like a dancer, her sword flashing as she expertly dismantled the Titankin one by one. She didn’t have time to indulge in the boys’ antics, but she couldn’t help but smirk as she caught snippets of their bickering.

“Focus!” she called out, parrying a massive swing from one of the larger Titankin.

“I am focusing!” Phainon shouted back, leaping onto a boulder to get a better angle. He launched himself off it and delivered a devastating blow to one of the archers, splitting its crystalline bow in half. He turned to Mydei, grinning.

“Three down!” Phainon called out, his blade flashing as he leapt backward, dodging the heavy swing of a stone sword. He twisted midair, landed smoothly, and sliced through the Titankin’s glowing core. “Make that four!”

“Four?” Mydei snorted, dodging an arrow that narrowly grazed his shoulder. “I’m already at six. You better pick up the pace, golden boy.” He delivered a brutal punch to the chest of another Titankin, cracks spreading through its torso before it crumbled to the ground.

“You’re counting that one?” Phainon yelled, pointing accusingly at the pile of rubble. “It fell over because it tripped! You didn’t even hit it that hard!”

“Still counts,” Mydei said smugly, flexing his fists.

Tribbie laughed as she hopped onto a rock for a better view, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m just gonna say it—you two are hilarious. You’re like those birds that fight over shiny things for no reason.” She waved her staff, blasting back a Titankin archer. “Meanwhile, Y/N’s probably lapping you both.”

“I heard that,” Y/N called out, her voice steady as she parried the massive blade of a Titankin. She stepped inside its guard, her sword flashing as she delivered a precise strike to its glowing core. The creature froze for a second before shattering into a heap of glowing rubble. “And Tribbie’s not wrong.”

Phainon’s head whipped around, distracted for a split second, which earned him a close call with a stone sword slicing through the air by his shoulder. He yelped and ducked, countering with a well-placed slash to the monster’s legs. “You’re saying you’re ahead of me?” he asked incredulously, finishing the Titankin off with a dramatic spin.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on taking down another Titankin with a smooth series of strikes. Her movements were quick and calculated, every step and swing perfectly timed.

Mydei, mid-punch, glanced over at her with a frown. “She’s bluffing. There’s no way she’s ahead of me.” He delivered a devastating uppercut to a Titankin, sending its head flying clean off its shoulders.

Y/N only smiled, which, of course, made both men more suspicious.

“Seven!” Phainon yelled triumphantly, dodging and weaving through another attack. “Seven, Mydei! You better start worrying.”

“Eight,” Mydei shot back, slamming his fist into the chest of another Titankin. He glanced at Phainon with a smirk. “You’re gonna owe me dinner at this rate.”

Tribbie rolled her eyes, blasting another archer from a distance. “Wow, the male ego is really something, huh?”

Finally, the last Titankin fell, its glowing shards scattering across the rocky ground. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of the group catching their breath.

Phainon wiped sweat from his brow, turning to Mydei with a triumphant grin. “Alright, what’s the tally?”

“Nine,” Mydei said confidently, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ha! Ten!” Phainon declared, pointing his sword at Mydei like he’d just won a duel. “Looks like dinner’s on you, my friend!”

Tribbie chuckled, hopping down from her perch. “I wouldn’t get too excited, golden boy.”

“What? Why?” Phainon blinked, confused.

Y/N sheathed her sword, her grin easy and casual as she stretched her arms. “Because I got 20.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“...What?” Phainon said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Twenty?” Mydei stared at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. “Yeah. You know, while you two were busy arguing and trying to impress each other, someone had to actually take care of the problem.”

Tribbie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “She got more than both of you combined! Oh, this is gold.”

Phainon’s jaw dropped, his face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief. “You—you were counting?”

“Of course I was counting,” Y/N said with a sly grin, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault I’m better at multitasking than you two.”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

Phainon blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… uh… you were incredible out there, Y/N. Seriously. I mean, you always are, but today especially.” His usual golden-retriever energy returned in full force, though his cheeks were still faintly pink.

Tribbie nudged Mydei with a smirk. “Look at him, blushing like she just crowned him king of the world.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Phainon ignored them, flashing Y/N a grin that was only a little bit nervous. “Next time, I’ll catch up. Promise.”

Y/N chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Good luck with that.”

Phainon just stood there, staring after her, the goofy grin on his face refusing to fade.

The group made their way deeper into the rocky terrain, the eerie glow of shattered crystal fragments lighting their path. The air was cooler here, heavy with an unnatural stillness that made Tribbie glance nervously over her shoulder every few minutes.

“So… does it feel like the ground’s gonna swallow us whole, or is that just me?” Tribbie muttered, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“Just your imagination,” Y/N replied casually, stepping over a fallen rock. “Probably.”

Tribbie squinted at her. “Probably? That’s not comforting.”

“Relax,” Phainon said brightly, his usual grin plastered across his face. He gestured to the rocky surroundings. “If anything weird happens, I’ll protect you!”

“Wow, I feel so safe,” Tribbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

As they moved forward, Mydei, who had been walking ahead of the group, suddenly stopped. “Hold up,” he said, holding out a hand. His sharp eyes scanned the ground.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him.

“Something’s off,” Mydei replied, pointing to a patch of the rocky ground that looked slightly… different. The texture was smoother, the color faintly darker, almost like it had been worn down by something—or someone.

Y/N crouched down to examine it. She brushed her fingers over the stone and noticed faint grooves carved into it, leading in a jagged line toward a nearby outcrop. “These look like tracks,” she murmured.

“Tracks?” Phainon asked, leaning over her shoulder with barely contained excitement. “Like… a secret path?”

“Possibly,” Y/N said, rising to her feet. She followed the grooves with her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Whatever made them was big.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tribbie muttered, though she followed behind eagerly as Y/N began tracing the path.

The group walked in silence for a few moments, the faint glow of the crystals growing dimmer as they approached a cluster of large boulders piled haphazardly against the side of a cliff.

“Dead end,” Mydei said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to the boulders. She placed a hand on the surface of one, her gaze narrowing. “There’s something behind these.”

Phainon immediately perked up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You mean like hidden treasure? Or ancient ruins? Or a monster nest?”

“Could be all three,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Fantastic!” Phainon said, clearly missing her sarcasm.

Tribbie poked one of the boulders with her staff. “Alright, so how do we move these without getting crushed?”

“Allow me,” Mydei said, cracking his knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, placed his hands on the nearest boulder, and shoved. The rock groaned in protest before slowly rolling away, revealing a narrow passage that sloped downward into the darkness.

“Show-off,” Phainon muttered under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” Mydei replied smugly, gesturing to the newly revealed path.

The passage was just wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, its walls smooth and slightly damp. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, glowing softly as the group descended.

“This is definitely leading somewhere,” Y/N said, her voice echoing slightly.

“I vote we turn back before we stumble into something we can’t handle,” Tribbie whispered, though she didn’t stop walking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phainon asked, his excitement palpable. “This is an adventure!”

“An adventure that could kill us,” Mydei muttered, though he followed without hesitation.

As they reached the bottom of the slope, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling was high and arched, supported by towering pillars carved with intricate patterns. In the center of the room stood what looked like an altar, surrounded by more of the strange, glowing symbols.

“Whoa,” Tribbie breathed, her voice filled with awe.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, her sword at the ready. The air felt heavier here, charged with some kind of ancient energy. “This place is incredible,” she said, running her fingers over one of the carvings.

Phainon walked up beside her, his grin softer now as he took in the room. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s also probably dangerous,” Mydei pointed out, eyeing the shadows warily.

“Dangerous and beautiful,” Phainon said cheerfully. “Like Y/N.”

Y/N turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing!” Phainon said quickly, his face turning pink.

Tribbie snorted. “Smooth.”

Before anyone could comment further, a low rumble echoed through the chamber, and the glowing symbols on the altar began to pulse.

____

The chamber was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of energy resonating from the glowing symbols on the altar. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing softly off the smooth stone floor.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, studying the carvings etched into the towering pillars. Her fingers traced the lines of the ancient symbols, their glow pulsing faintly under her touch. “These are definitely not from the same era as the city above,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is... older. Much older.”

Tribbie wandered toward the walls, tapping her staff lightly against the stone. “Well, it looks cool. Creepy, but cool.”

“Cool and creepy are rarely good combinations,” Mydei said, standing by the entrance with his arms crossed. He scanned the room with his usual skeptical frown, his gaze lingering on the darker corners.

Phainon, meanwhile, hovered near Y/N, watching her examine the carvings with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you think it’s some kind of warning?” he asked, pointing to a set of jagged symbols that spiraled outward from the altar.

“Could be,” Y/N replied, her brow furrowing as she knelt to inspect the markings on the floor. “Or it might be a map... or instructions.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” Mydei asked, smirking faintly.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure it out,” Y/N shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Phainon crouched beside her, peering at the symbols with a thoughtful expression. “You’re really good at this, Y/N. Like, way smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s kind of amazing.”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Phainon.”

Tribbie snickered from across the room. “He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Phainon asked, his grin faltering slightly.

“The thing where you turn into a lovesick puppy,” Tribbie teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Am not!” Phainon protested, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He quickly stood, clearing his throat.

Y/N, oblivious as ever, was already back to examining the symbols. She stepped closer to the altar, her focus narrowing on a particularly intricate carving. “There’s something strange about this part,” she murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

Phainon stepped forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm. “Uh, careful—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath Y/N’s feet gave a sudden, ominous crack.

“Y/N!” Phainon shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The floor crumbled away in an instant, and Y/N disappeared into the darkness below.

Tribbie screamed, dropping her staff as she ran toward the edge of the newly formed pit. Mydei was already there, his sharp reflexes keeping him from tumbling in himself. He grabbed Tribbie by the shoulder to keep her from getting too close.

“Y/N!” Phainon called, his voice echoing down the dark abyss. He dropped to his knees, peering into the void with wide, panicked eyes.

There was no sound except for the faint crumble of debris.

“Is she—” Tribbie started, her voice trembling.

“She’s alive,” Mydei interrupted, his tone firm as he scanned the edge of the pit. “There’s no way she’d go down that easily.”

Phainon clenched his fists, his usual smile completely gone. “We have to get to her. Now.”

[skzdust]

Leave the Mark On My Neck (That It's Yours)

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

This was written in a moment of weakness. Enjoy.

Title from "Bite Me" by Enhypen.

Cross posted on ao3 here!

Summary: In which reader doesn't cum, and Yeosang teaches them a lesson.

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x afab reader

Includes: overstimulation, fingering, vibrators, nipple play, dacryphilia

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst @atzlordz @breadpuddingboys

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

“So, I have this hypothesis.” You said, tracing circles on Yeosang’s arm.

“Hm?” He looked at you, reaching over to push his fingers through your hair. “What kind of hypothesis?”

“I think…” You hummed. “I think I’d look really fucking hot with your marks on my neck.”

Yeosang flipped you under him. Your head hit the pillow, and you looked up at him. His eyes were darker, more intense than they had been just a moment ago.

“You want my marks, honey?” The pet name was sweet, and while his voice was, too, there was an undertone to it, something smoldering under the surface like hot coals.

You added fuel, breathing, “Yeah, I want them.”

He smiled at you before leaning down and biting your skin where it was softest, right by your neck. You could feel the pressure on your jugular as he sucked a mark, and you inhaled sharply, the feeling making you whimper.

He pulled back, pressing a kiss to the mark and looking at you with a grin before doing the same thing to the other side of your neck. Your whimpering was louder this time, and you tried to keep your hips still, but you were fighting the urge to pull his hand between your thighs right now.

“Do you want something?” Yeosang whispered in your ear.

“Yeah.” You whispered back.

“Use your words.”

“I want you to finger me.” You bit the inside of your lip, suddenly shy.

“Oh, honey, I’d be happy to.” Yeosang smiled, like sunshine. “All you had to do was ask.”

You got on your back, propping your hips up with a pillow, taking a deep breath. Yeosang helped you take your sleep shorts off, but left your lacy underwear in place.

“Are you going to…” You murmured, then sighed as he began to touch you through the thin fabric. “Fuck, Yeosang.”

He was being so nice tonight. Usually, when he fucked you, it was with sharp words and occasionally sharper sensations. But tonight, while there was definitely some fire to him, he was being gentle and kind.

A part of you liked it.

But a part of you wanted him to be <em>mean</em>.

You held as still as you could while he teased you. Your breathing was loud, quick through your parted lips. You wanted him to fuck you, to call you a slut, to do all manner of—

He shoved your underwear to the side and pushed a finger inside you suddenly, without warning, cutting off the train of images and thoughts rushing in your head. You moaned, long and loud. “Oh, fuck.”

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly, moving a little inside you.

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Good.” He murmured. He pulled out the finger a moment later.

“Why—” You started, but he pushed two fingers in, and you were suddenly gasping.

“Wow, impatient.” He clicked his tongue. “Maybe you should practice waiting.”

“No!” You said quickly. “No, I’m sorry, thank you for touching me, sir.”

“Good girl.” He said, stroking his fingers. You sighed, arching up into his touch. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

You moaned at the praise. “Like being your good girl.”

“Oh, do you?” Yeosang’s fingers moved faster. “Because with the way I’ve seen you brat before, I wouldn’t know it.”

You laughed, a breathy sound mostly knocked out of your lungs by his fingers. “I do! I do.”

“Then prove it, be a good girl for me and cum.”

You made a confused little moan, looking at him. “Now?”

He nodded. “Now.”

You wriggled on the bed, reaching up to pinch your own nipples, knowing it would get you hotter.

He pushed your hand away. “Did I tell you you could touch yourself like that?” His fingers moved faster, and you whined.

“No, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Prove to me you’re sorry. Cum.”

You pushed into Yeosang’s hand, trying as hard as you could to get yourself to that edge, but try as you might, you just didn’t have enough stimulation for long enough.

Yeosang removed his fingers, sighing as he wiped them on your thigh. “Couldn’t even cum for me.”

You sighed. “You gave me, like, a minute.”

“That was at least three.” He grinned at you.

“Fuck you.” You muttered.

“Oh, well I was already going to teach you a lesson, but now I really have to. That behavior can’t go unpunished, you know.”

You felt a thrill in your stomach. “You’re going to punish me?”

“Of course. If my little slut pretending to be a good girl can’t even cum when I tell her to, well, then, that’s an issue.” He said conversationally, like he was just discussing the weather.

You took a shuddering breath. “And what are you going to teach me?”

“Well, if you can’t cum when you’re asked, I guess you have to learn how to do that.” He shrugged. “And the best method for that is to make you cum and not stop.”

“Not— not stop?” You blinked.

“You’re gonna cum so many times you’re begging me to stop.” His casual face faded as his smile grew dangerous. “And then you’re going to keep cumming.”

“Fuck.” You whispered.

A few minutes later, Yeosang had you naked and handcuffed to the headboard. He laid down between your thighs, sucking hickeys and marks into your thighs as you shivered. “Yeosang, please…”

“Please what?” He looked up.

“Please fuck me.” You whispered.

He grinned and whipped out a vibrator from behind his back.

“Where did that come from?”

“I have my ways.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

He pushed it inside you in one smooth motion, and it felt like the air had been punched from your lungs.

“It means shut up and <em>take it</em>.”

You whimpered when he turned it on, flicking it to the lowest setting. “God, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” He laid between your thighs again. “I’m just gonna leave some more marks here while that works.”

“Yes, please do that.” You sighed.

He proceeded to do just that, pinching and playing with the hickeys he’d already left on whichever thigh his mouth wasn’t on at the moment. The vibrator buzzed between your legs the whole time, and you moaned and writhed at the painful and pleasurable sensations.

Eventually, Yeosang sat up, wiping his mouth. “You shake so much when there’s something inside you.”

You nodded in agreement. “Just feels good, sir.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He grabbed hold of the base and began to fuck you with it. You moaned and pushed yourself further onto it with every thrust.

“You’re so pretty when you’re needy.” He said thoughtfully, pressing the button and turning the vibrations higher.

Goosebumps rose all over your skin as you writhed on the sheets, moaning the whole time. Yeosang was really fucking good at this, at knowing just what buttons to push to turn you into a mess.

“You like this, don’t you, slut?” He turned it up once more, to the highest setting, and climbed off the bed to get something else, before you could respond.

He came back with another vibrator, and you watched with wide eyes as he pressed it to your nipple. You whined at the cold silicone before he switched it on.

The sensation was so strong you arched off the bed. “Yeosang, I’m gonna— I’m gonna—”

“That’s sir to you.” He hissed, grabbing your jaw. “And yes, you are. You’re gonna cum.”

He let go of your chin and grabbed the vibrator inside you, fucking you with it.

It wasn’t much longer before your orgasm washed over you, your vision blurring and your mouth falling open. “Sir, sir, sir, fuck, God, it feels so good!”

“I’m glad, baby.” He said with a smile as your vision came back to normal. “Because you’re going to keep cumming. As long as I want you to.”

The second orgasm was good, too. The third was where it started to creep into too much.

The fourth had you whining. The fifth was the first one where you felt like maybe you’d hit your limit, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

Then the sixth and seventh. Yeosang had started fucking your face around four, and his thrusts grew even harsher with every time you came.

Eight.

Nine.

Yeosang stopped, sitting between your legs to watch you cum again.

Ten.

He switched off the vibrator, smiling and pulling it out of you. “Wow, baby, consider me impressed.”

You smiled, exhausted. “Cuddles.”

“Of course.”

He undid the handcuffs, rubbing your wrists to make sure they weren’t bruised. “Why don’t we take a shower, and then we can cuddle.”

You whined in protest. “But that means standing up.”

“I know, baby. But you’ll feel better after.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“C’mon.” He helped you up, and you leaned against him in the warm water, your legs shaky. “Beautiful girl.”

He helped you into clean pajamas, and you got into bed. You were dimly aware of him kissing your forehead, and then you fell asleep.

[thomamaru]

Drench in Apologies (Chapter 3)

Synopsis: Just one little text from him was enough to crumble down any healing progress you made. Now, there he was, standing in the rain. You still stood your ground and didn’t let yourself get swayed by his attempts to apologize.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, angst, fighting but not too intense, fluff at the end

previous chapter

The sound of relentless rain echoed through the streets as Rin stood in front of your apartment building, soaked to the bone.

His breathing was labored, each breath heavy with the weight of regret that had been gnawing at him since he saw you at the restaurant—with Sae.

That image hadn’t stopped replaying in his mind, each loop sharper than the last.

His fists trembled at his sides as his teal eyes fixed on your door. This wasn’t how he imagined things between you would ever end up. But he wasn’t about to let it end like this.

Not when every step of his journey, every ounce of his determination, had you at the heart of it.

When you opened the door, you were startled to see Rin standing there, drenched. For a moment, the sight of him rendered you silent, your chest tightening at his disheveled appearance.

But then the reminder of the months of emotional turmoil he had put you through came crashing down, hardening your expression.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, the chill in your tone matching the weather outside.

“I need to talk to you,” Rin said, his voice low but urgent. “Please.”

The word please carried more weight than you thought it would. Rin wasn’t the type to plead. But the bruises on your heart were still raw, and even now, you weren’t ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Rin. Go home.”

“I can’t,” he replied almost instantly, stepping closer but not enough to breach your space. “I… I can’t leave things like this.”

The storm inside you matched the one outside as you fought to stay resolute. “Now you can’t? After months of ignoring me, brushing me aside like I didn’t exist? You don’t get to decide when we talk, Rin. It doesn’t work like that.”

Rin flinched, your words hitting harder than he had anticipated. He nodded stiffly, water dripping from his bangs. “You’re right. I… I don’t deserve to be here. But I need you to understand—”

“No,” you interrupted sharply, stepping back as he tried to step forward again. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and think a simple explanation will fix everything.”

Rin stayed rooted to the spot, guilt weighing him down. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly, his usually composed voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to focus on training, to be stronger for you—”

“For me?” you cut him off, bitterness rising in your throat. “Don’t put this on me, Rin. If it was for me, you would’ve let me in instead of shutting me out. You didn’t even care about how I felt. Did you even think about how I spent weeks wondering why you suddenly stopped trying? Why you started to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

Rin’s fists clenched tightly, his nails biting into his palms. “I did care. I cared so much that it drove me insane. I felt like I wasn’t good enough—that I wasn’t giving you what you deserved. And the only way I knew how to fix that was to focus on being better at everything. I thought I’d lose you if I didn’t.”

“Rin,” you said quietly, your voice thick with unshed tears. “You lost me anyway.”

The words hung between you like a lead weight, crushing whatever fragile hope Rin had carried with him to your doorstep. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself speechless, every word dying before it could leave his lips.

You turned away, arms wrapping around yourself like a shield against the cold. “Do you know how hard it was for me to see you at that match? To call out your name and hope you’d finally look at me the way you used to? I’ve spent months convincing myself that maybe I was the one who failed. Maybe I didn’t support you enough or didn’t try hard enough.”

Rin’s hands reached out but dropped back to his sides, his voice thick with regret. “You never failed me. I failed you.”

You shook your head, bitterness creeping into your tone. “What’s worse is that after everything, the only reason you’re here now is because you saw me with your brother. What was it, Rin? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Or did Sae finally show me the kind of attention you should’ve been giving all along?”

Rin’s face twisted, a mixture of guilt and anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s true, isn’t it? You didn’t care until someone else looked at me.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Rin said firmly, his voice cracking under the strain. “I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Because I—” He broke off, exhaling shakily. “Because I still love you.”

Your heart clenched at his confession, but the sting of the past months didn’t let you soften just yet. “If you really loved me, Rin, you wouldn’t have treated me like an afterthought.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the tension between you reached its peak. The rain had seeped into your entryway, water pooling around Rin’s feet, but neither of you cared.

Rin ran a hand through his damp hair, frustrated beyond measure. “I know I messed up. I was so focused on beating Sae and Isagi that I didn’t realize I was losing the most important person in my life. I… I got caught up in my own selfishness, and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

His words broke something inside of you—months of built-up anger and sadness dissolving into bittersweet pain.

Before you could reply, Rin suddenly stepped closer and cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Please,” he whispered. “Just let me prove to you that I can do better. That I will do better.”

You opened your mouth to speak but froze when Rin leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

It wasn’t like the soft kisses from your earlier days together. It was raw and urgent, filled with the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his lips reminding you of everything you had once loved about him.

When Rin pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with unspoken promises. “I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again. And I’ll wait however long it takes. But please, just give me the chance.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart torn between the ache of betrayal and the hope of rekindling what you’d lost. “It’s not going to be easy, Rin.”

“I don’t want easy,” he said softly. “I just want you.”

The road ahead wouldn’t be simple, but as Rin pulled you into a tight embrace, you felt a small flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the pieces of your shattered relationship could be mended. And even if it took time, you were willing to try.

---

Rin wasn't known for surprises, which was why you did a double-take when you opened your front door to see him standing there with flowers in his hands.

"Hey," he greeted casually, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks betrayed his usual composed demeanor. He held out the bouquet—your favorite flowers, no less—looking everywhere but at you as he handed them over.

"Rin..." Your voice trailed off, surprise evident in your tone as you accepted the bouquet. They were fresh, vibrant, and so thoughtful it almost didn’t seem real.

"They’re for you," he clarified needlessly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

A small laugh bubbled up from your chest as you brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their scent. "Thank you. I wasn’t expecting this at all."

He shrugged as if brushing it off, but you caught the slight upward twitch of his lips. "I thought you deserved it. Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Rin walked in, taking his usual spot on your couch, his body language relaxed yet hesitant, as if unsure of what to say or do next. You quickly placed the flowers in a vase, letting the water fill as you sneaked occasional glances at him.

When you returned, he was looking out the window, the soft glow of the room's light illuminating his sharp profile. He seemed far away for a moment before he turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been doing okay, right?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He exhaled through his nose and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just... I know the last few months weren’t great. I wasn’t great.”

You sat next to him, setting the vase of flowers on the table. The distance between you was minimal, the warmth of his presence a familiar comfort.

“Rin,” you began softly, “we’ve been over this. You don’t have to keep apologizing for the past. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little sharper than intended. His jaw tightened, but he softened quickly, his head dipping. “But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for how I made you feel.”

You tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. “Then don’t make the same mistakes again. That’s all I want.”

For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of the rain tapping against the window. Rin straightened slightly, his fingers brushing the edge of his knee nervously. He finally met your eyes, the intensity in them making your breath catch.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice quieter now but filled with conviction. “I’ll do better. For you.”

There was something so sincere in the way he said it that your chest ached—not from sadness, but from how much you cared for him.

“Good.” You smiled softly. “Because I’m not giving you an out next time.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rare. “Duly noted.”

You settled back against the couch, your shoulder brushing against his. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the air between you two wasn’t heavy with words unsaid or hurt feelings lingering in the background.

As the rain outside slowed to a drizzle, Rin’s hand slipped across the space between you, brushing against yours before interlocking your fingers. The action was so simple yet felt so significant.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning back against the couch and looking toward the ceiling, “picking those flowers wasn’t easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Did you agonize over it for hours?”

His lips quirked in a faint smirk, the usual Rin humor breaking through. “Let’s just say I asked someone for help, and it was a mistake.”

You laughed at his exasperated expression. “Well, they’re perfect. And honestly? I’m impressed you even thought to bring flowers.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smile. “Special occasion.”

“And what’s the occasion?” you teased, leaning into his side slightly.

He turned his head to you, his gaze softer now. “You.”

The single word hung in the air, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flushed through your chest. You felt his fingers squeeze yours, grounding you in the moment.

“I’m really glad we’re okay again,” you whispered.

“Me too,” Rin admitted, his voice quiet yet steady. His head tilted to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

And as he sat beside you, fingers intertwined with yours and the soft rhythm of the rain outside, you felt it too—peace, understanding, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. Rin Itoshi was here, now, with you. And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

Notes: last parttt, thank you so much for the support i'm crying btw I'm accepting any request, any character will <33

Taglist: @hotdogkongmalaki @mitsurimoshi @rroxii @x-vivi-v @ash1 @kimura-uzuri

[bowsnstrings]

It was a quiet evening at Milana’s apartment, the kind where the only sounds were the hum of the city far below and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. The soft golden glow of her lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm and intimate light over the space. Milana sat cross-legged on the couch, a cup of herbal tea in her hands, while Ony, leaned back next to her, petting Oreo lazily as his eyes gazed thoughtfully at her.

“So,” Milana began, setting her tea down carefully on the coffee table, her voice a little more tentative than usual. “I’ve been thinking... we’ve been talking about- well everything, but maybe we should talk about now, too. Like, what do we want from each other right now?”

Ony raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching upward as if he already knew where this was going, he’d just been waiting forever for her to get the courage to speak up. “You mean... right now, right now? Like, in the middle of a perfectly nice, quiet evening?” He teased, his deep voice carrying a playful edge.

Milana rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her smile. “Yeah, exactly. Like, I want to make sure we’re on the same page about everything. I mean, we’re both—”

“—Cleary not afraid of complicated conversations,” Ony finished her ramble with a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Go ‘head. Hit me with the questions, Mama.”

Milana giggled lightly and settled deeper into the cushions. “Okay, serious question. What do you want from me, right now? In this moment? In this relationship?” She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and affection.

Ony let out a breath, thinking for a moment. He sat up straighter next to her, his gaze turning soft as he met her eyes. “Well, I want your honesty, always. Even when it’s hard. And, honestly, I just want... your presence. It’s the little things you do that matter most to me.”

Milana smiled softly, her heart swelling a little. She reached over and placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re so perfect,” She said quietly, her voice warm and tender.

Ony’s smile softened in response, his hand giving hers a squeeze back. “That’s all you, Baby. But you already know that.” He paused, his tone turning more playful as he leaned in slightly. “Now, your turn. What do you want from me, right now?”

Milana blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the question. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, let’s see… I want you to stop stealing my snacks when I leave the room.”

Ony’s face broke into a full grin, and he shook his head dramatically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never stolen your snacks.”

Milana raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you didn’t eat half of my cookies today, right after I left?” She nudged his arm, knocking it away from her as he smacked his lips.

Ony feigned innocence. “I’m just... helping you finish. You’re welcome.” He had to look away to pretend that he wasn’t smiling right then, suddenly finding her cat more interesting as he tried to climb up and sniff his hand.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned forward and put on a mock-serious face, lifting a hand like he was swearing an oath. “I promise I’ll leave your snacks alone, for now. Deal?”

Milana giggled, the tension from earlier completely gone. “Deal,” she agreed, her voice soft and light. She stuck her pinkie out playfully, reaching up so he could lock his larger one onto hers, giving a small tug just so he looked at her. She stuck out her lips, exaggerating with big doe eyes staring expectantly at him, and he was more than happy to oblige with a kiss.

There was a pause, the air between them charged with an easy, comfortable intimacy. Ony’s expression softened, and he looked at her with more seriousness than before. “But really, Milana… I want to be better. I want to always be there for you, even on the days I’m not perfect. I want us to grow together.”

Milana’s heart skipped a beat, feeling a sudden urge to be closer. She shuffled a bit, but fell into his arms comfortably as he caught her, voice low and steady when she responded. “I want that too. I want us to keep talking, keep figuring this out. And I want us to never stop laughing together. I don’t ever want that to change.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Ony shifted slightly, his hand moving to gently brush through her hair. Milana looked up at him, noticing the change in his demeanor. He wasn’t smiling as he usually was, his eyes distant for a brief moment before meeting hers with an almost vulnerable expression, and she could tell something was on his mind.

“Ony," She prodded softly, her voice breaking through the quiet like a warm touch. “You don't have to keep it in anymore. I can tell you want to say something.”

He hesitated, his mouth opening but then closing again with a heavy sigh. He'd always found it hard to talk about the past. His childhood, his family—those were things he locked away, buried so deep that it felt like unearthing them would mean losing control. However, he reminded himself that Milana was different, and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to hide.

“Milana…” His voice cracked just slightly, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone this, but I didn’t get much affection growing up.” She didn’t say anything, simply nodding, her eyes soft as she took it in.

“You know my parents were separated before I was born?” Ony continued, his gaze now on the floor, feeling a bit of shame. “I never saw them together. I never saw them hug, kiss, nothing. The only time I ever saw them interact was when they had to talk about me, about what I needed… but that was just logistics, not love.” He paused, his mind reminiscing over the years, the emptiness.

“They couldn’t stand each other, and I was... just a part of the equation they couldn’t ignore. My dad…” He only shook his head, like he was trying to get the image of his father out of it. “My mom tried, I think, but... I was always a reminder of something that went wrong.” Ony’s voice was tight, almost like a knot he was trying to unravel but couldn't. “Everytime they were in the same room they were arguing. So I guess... I just thought that shit was normal.”

Milana’s heart ached, and she reached out, her hand finding his. She didn’t say anything, just let her fingers brush against his, grounding him, giving him the space he needed. “That’s why…” Ony swallowed, blinking hard as if the words were lodged in his throat. “That’s why I need affection. I crave it, Milana. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like a hole inside of me, one that... no one ever filled. Not my parents, not anyone.”

Milana squeezed onto him tighter, her thumb tracing over his knuckles as she gently held his hand. “Ony, you don’t have to apologize for that. You’ve been through things that most people can’t imagine. It’s okay to want affection. It’s okay to need it.”

He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “I know. But it’s not just that I want it. I want it from you. All the time. I want to feel like someone cares about me the way I never saw anyone care about each other when I was a kid.” His voice faltered. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”

Milana pulled him toward her, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close as if she could erase the years of neglect and distance from his life with just a simple embrace. Her hands clinging to him like she needed him too. She didn’t ask him to be anything other than himself. She didn’t question his need for love or affection. She just offered him what he’d never had: connection, warmth, and the silent promise that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“You don’t have to do anything but hold me.” Ony’s body relaxed into her arms, his heart beating a little steadier as he felt the weight of his past start to loosen. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be held without the fear that he would suffocate someone in the process. And in that moment, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken after all.

“So I guess that means I can’t get rid of you, huh?” He just couldn’t stop trying to make her smile even for a moment, using the time to commit her to memory, wanting to bask in this feeling forever.

Milana laughed softly, lifting her head to look at him. “Nope. If anything, I’m going to make sure you get all the hugs and kisses you need.”

Ony chuckled, pulling her in for a slow, lingering kiss. As their lips met, Milana realized that this moment—this conversation—was a turning point. And as they broke the kiss, Milana whispered, “I’ll always be here for you, Ony. You don’t ever have to worry about that.” He smiled, his eyes softening with affection.

“I know. And it feels really good.”

More of Milana here 🎀

[honeyflower-bellybower]

Poet Remus AU, Part 2

Sirius has never cared much for literature. Of course he's not ignorant in the field. He's read centuries of authors under severe scrutiny of his preceptor, and he's studied their lives and work. He's been taught to analyze, memorize, interpret. He can read Virgil in Latin, recite Dante by heart in Italian, discuss Voltaire in perfect French. But though he's never hated it exactly, he's never taken any particular interest in it either. He tends to find it either arrogant or boring. He rarely does any reading for personal enjoyment. In addition, Orion Black is famously passionate about the subject, and that's enough to provoke Sirius' scorn.

He keeps himself as separate from that environment as possible; he doesn't frequent any salons and avoids members of literary societies like the plague. That would be why he's never heard of that name before, Lupin, and the supposedly scandalous collection to his name. So, when it comes to gathering more information about the mysterious poet, all he can do is ask someone trusted.

Alright, perhaps trusted is not the right word to define his brother. But Sirius at least trusts that if anyone he can talk to would know about the latest developments in the penmanship trade, that's Regulus. Plus, Regulus wouldn't go telling their parents, at least not without reason. He tries to avoid altercation with them as much as possible; in fact, he mostly doesn't speak to them at all unless required to.

Sure enough, Sirius finds Regulus in the library, flicking distractedly through a gold-bound tome. The Bible.

"So, little brother. Have you finally decided to don the cloth then? Mother will be delighted."

The youngest Black brother looks up, mildly annoyed, and closes the book.

"You would be surprised, Sirius, that when you can read a good book is just a good book."

Sirius snorts and raises his hands. "Didn’t mean to insult your novel, there. Actually, I came to you for that exactly."

"Learning how to read?"

"Close. Reading advice."

"You want a book? Not as burning paper or door holder?"

"Very funny. But yes, darling brother. I’ve been thinking, you know, I might use some more… awareness, of our times. What’s brewing in this young century’s bright minds?"

Regulus' eyebrows twitch, unimpressed. "Mh, and what brought about such deep reflection? I thought you only cared you your bright mind."

"Why, thanks, little brother. I am bright. But, you see, even the brightest stars need the moon to make a night really shine. I need inspiration. New fuel. Where else would I get my brilliant ideas?"

Sirius can see it in his eyes, now, in his grimace, that Regulus is thinking of some of those most recent ideas. The practical jokes, the exuberant gestures. 'The ways he puts himself in ridicule', how his mother would put it.

"Oh, come on, Reggie. Anything interesting on the scene? What’s the latest phenomenon?"

Regulus sighs, but gets up from his armchair and walks to the shelves, contemplating. "…I would suggest Shelley’s A Defence of Poetry, but I suppose that’s a bit weighty for someone who’s never read a verse in their life. Moore is delightfully witty, but maybe too witty. Only for a sharp mind, I fear." Sirius bites his tongue. Oh, he sees what he’s doing. "If you’re after the latest phenomenon, you can’t go wrong with the Lake Poets. Don Juan is causing quite the stir—it’s scandalous, you should like it. Or perhaps something from Wordsworth or Coleridge, if you lean towards the sublime. Do you know the word?"

Sirius plasters a venomous smile on his face and plops in Regulus’ chair. "Dear, Reggie, did you have that prepared?"

"It just comes naturally."

Sirius flicks his hair over his shoulder. "Actually, I was looking for something more… particular. I’ve heard there’s been some ruffled feathers over of a very recent publishment. A poet, perhaps? Sound any bells?"

Regulus narrows his eyes. "…If you already know what you’re asking, Sirius, why don’t you just ask?"

"I want to read Lupin’s Moonlights. And his most recent work, whatever that happens to be."

Regulus’ eyes go wide in recognition. Then he scoffs. "So like you to only pick up a book to unnerve Mother and Father. Do you even know anything about him other than his reputation?"

"He has a reputation?"

Regulus shakes his head and sighs, as if disappointed in himself for even being surprised. "Remus Lupin has been the biggest controversy in clubs since Byron. Two years ago he published his poems, the Moonlights, under Dumbledore Publishing, and the company was nearly shut down because of it. There was talk of legal action, but in the end it was deemed acceptable, by narrow margin. Rumor had it the Chancellor’s wife was so fond of the poems he let the matter fall."

Sirius is enraptured. "But why? What was in them?"

"Oh, everything. For one, it’s clear as daylight that Lupin is an atheist. There’s nothing explicitly against religion, of course, but it’s obvious enough to anyone capable of critical reading. That, I believe, was what caused the major uproar. Churchmen were absolutely livid. But that's just scratching the surface. It’s seditious to the point of being anarchic. Not outright, mind you, but it might as well be. And to cap it all off, it’s rife with licentious imagery. Though, oddly enough, no one was particularly bothered about that."

At this point, Sirius can practically feel his hands spasming with want to read it. He's leaning so far forward he's barely sitting on the chair anymore. "How did it get published then? How did it not get banned?"

Regulus is infinitely relaxed as he states, "it’s good."

"That’s it? It’s good?"

"Correct. It’s so good everyone loved it. Only some people hated that they did. For every Count demanding suppression, a Countess was requesting a personal copy—and one for her friend. For every bishop warning his flock against it, a John Mill wrote an article on how everyone ought to read it. It was the bestselling publication of its year for Dumbledore and it even made it beyond England. The French adored it, as they do anything scandalous. Italians, too, though I believe mostly the poets. The rest can barely read."

Sirius feels astonished. This sounds false. Like an impossible story, a fiction. "Have you read it?" he asks, quietly.

Regulus is silent for a moment. Then, he moves to the far end of the library, towards his own desk, covered in papers and books. He opens a drawer, takes out a pile of journals, an ink box, an old newspaper, and finally, a small hardcover book. Regulus hands it to him. On the cover, purplish tinged leather, was printed a thin circle surrounded by tiny, black stars. At the top it said, in elegant, tall letters, The Moonlights, R. J. Lupin.

Sirius takes it reverently. He feels a hand over it, then looks at Regulus for confirmation before opening it. It's rare for them to share anything, and he can tell Regulus really loves this book. It's well kept, but it has clearly been read many times. The spine is wrinkly, though not cracked, because his brother is far too gentle to crack his books open. The pages are softened by frequent touch. Most importantly though, Regulus has written on them. Sirius knows Regulus hates 'ruining' his books. He likes them to stay pristine, as he’s found them. But sometimes he just can't help himself. He's a creative, even though he tries not to be. That’s why he fills all those 'journals', which Sirius is sure contain much more composition than actual information. When he reads something he really, really likes, and he has so much to say about it but no one to talk to, he starts annotating. Underlining. Commenting. This book is filled with comments.

"Blimey," Sirius whispers. "You loved it, didn’t you?"

"I told you," Regulus says. "Everyone loved it."

Read part 1 here

yeyy told you I was cooking! Actually I cooked a LOT more than this and I think I'll be posting little episodes like this as often as possible. I have the general drafts but I need time to write them out prettily hehe. Anyway, REGGIE IS HERE! I love him.

[castellanpilled]

Thoughts on Hermes and Luke’s relationship? Personally I’ve always had trouble viewing Hermes as actually having “tried his best” with Luke- to me, it’s always felt messed up that he left Luke with May for so long.

Like, I mean if Aphrodite can set off ALL the events of the titans curse with no consequence and she’s viewed as a “lesser” goddess by the other deities and campers, I’m sure Hermes could’ve done something more to help

Also what are your opinions on May and all the stuff with the oracle and how it affected Luke? I’ve always thought that was one of the things that really set him up for manipulation by Kronos, but you have really interesting things to say and I love reading your posts!!!

Oooh this is a really interesting one!!

(This is all talking about Pjo!Hermes, not the actual deity)

I think that Hermes was always aware of Luke; but after the whole oracle thing with May, he kind of just didn’t want to be around Luke because he knew that things would get worse. I don’t think he tried his best at all, though. Thing is, he didn’t send any kind of help to Luke, atleast not like he did with Percy in SoM. He just flat out,,, ignored Luke? And then obviously Hermes goes back to May AGAIN when Luke is 14, which I find stupid because if he was willing to visit May then surely he could’ve visited Luke. Furthermore, if we’re talking SHOW Luke, Hermes is even worse!! He’s out gambling at Lotus Casino!! He HAS TIME to visit his son! He literally proved that he’s not always busy!!

I think that he may have tried at some point, but it wasn’t actually enough. The guy “exists out of time and space,” so surely he could’ve come up with SOME WAY to visit his son? I also kind of think that he may have viewed Percy as Luke if it “went well” and that may have been why he tried to help Percy.

Luke’s anger for him also probably grew when he found out he had other kids who he was also ignoring. I’m sure he wasn’t happy when he found out that he was supposedly the favourite; the bar is realllllll low! I think that when Luke was younger, like, before his quest, he really did want his dad to pay attention to him; he really did care. All he wanted was fatherly love. Of course, then his quest happened, and that was the breaking point. He was vulnerable, so Kronos took control of that. I think if the quest had gone slightly different and Kronos had still tried to take control of Luke, he would’ve had atleast some mental clarity to say no. But he didn’t, and that was the difference.

Tldr; Hermes barely tried and did the bare minimum for his children

May and the oracle is complicated. I don’t really blame her for what happened; I also don’t think Luke did either. He was just so traumatised though that it was hard for him to see his mother in a positive light.

Obviously the curse of the oracle still affected her even after Luke left, and I don’t think it ever stopped affecting her. It wasn’t just “until your son dies,” because that would make no sense. It was for the rest of her life. I think that May is a really interesting character and the fact that she’s such a mystery just drives that. We know so much yet so little about her.

Anyways, it 100% was a factor in Kronos manipulating Luke. I mean, we know that he was plagued with nightmares from Kronos after the whole Ares thing, and a lot of those nightmares probably consisted of May and the oracle. Kronos definitely used it against him. I think there’s also a chance that Kronos was telling Luke that it was his fault it all happened; making him feel lesser, and then telling him that it can all be redeemed by joining him. Idk maybe that’s just me though :P

I do think May did try though, it’s just that the Oracle completely ruined her, so it was hard. I think she genuinely believed she could stop it all from happening if she just kept her son safe, but of course, the oracle kept her from being sane.

Also tysm AHFHFJFJ it means a lot to me omg 😭🫶

[yourinaudiblename]

I’ve become afraid of death. which is actually improvement for someone who was suicidal but also. scary :(

this is all your faults /pos /pos /pos-

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[crazyw3irdo]

id like the many many people who said my romeo & juliet uquiz reminded them of in stars and time to know i started playing it and hell fuckin yeah

[chibi-scone]

It’s been said before and the fact that I’m an Izzy simp aside like having a character who survives the most certain death shit ever (shooting himself in the head at point blank) and literally being nicknamed by another character “indestructible” and then become a symbol of protection for a whole group of people die from a fucking bullet to the side that was established in universe to have no vital organs in order to “atone for his sins” or however you wanna spin it and have him say he wants to go after (see point one) literally trying to kill himself in the show that is literally about growth and betterment of the self in a cruel world that wants you dead and where the main (and mostly queer) characters survive the most batshit insane injuries is like COSMICALLY stupid writing like I don’t even understand how you get there and the fact that it’s supposed to be a kind/ happy/meaningful ending is beyond me

[soobvape]

heol

[blood-ology]

Girl help i can’t stop thinking of ideas for drag looks / performances now that I’ve done it once?? it was supposed to be a one time thing but I’m losing it over these ideas 😭

[theflannelwizard]

My dad has this theory about “project-based friends” that I’ve been thinking about lately. A project-based friend is someone you meet through fandom/hobbies, and they’re usually really easy to get super close to while you’re both invested in the project, be it an actual project or the same fandom/fixation or whatever else.

But as soon as one or both of you moves on from the project, you fall out of touch. Because the project-based friend doesn’t really care about you as a person as much as they care about what you bring to the project. Or even if they do care about you, they just don’t know how to keep a friendship up when you don’t have a project together.

This isn’t necessarily a selfish thing, it’s just… the friendship isn’t personal. A project-based friend will have fun with you while it lasts and then either move on entirely or stay kinda half in your life, never really reaching out or holding real conversations. And I think a big part of my problem is that I’ve been expecting project-based friends to stick around for me when really we just liked the same work of fiction for a while. I keep thinking I’ve made a new best friend and then they get into some media I don’t like and the whole friendship kinda disappears.

[strohller27]

.