#none were the same and the wind did its work

[selyeji]

conversations

joão félix x reader (requested)

summary : falling inlove with someone you barely knew wasn’t on your list, especially when a simple search could be done.

(based on “a dream with a baseball player” by faye webster)

warnings : none

friday afternoon, the park was quiet and almost empty. people still working their shift and high school students still not released from their classes. the only sound that could be heard were footsteps and gushes of wind.

you sat on a wooden bench, legs crossed, with your book on your hand. the tree that stood near provided shade, protecting you from the sun. your mind consuming each word typed out on the pages, eyes darting from line to line.

bark. bark.

snapping back to reality from your reading session, you turn your head to see a short brown dog standing beside you, the little bell on its collar ringing. the dog walks up to your lap, circling around.

a bit surprised, you started to pet him. scratching his chin, based on his expression, it seems that was his favorite spot. before you could move him, you heard gasping and footsteps.

“floki… sorry for disturbing you, accidentally let him go and he ran.” a young man approached “may i?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you. you nod.

carrying the dog, who is floki, to the mans hands. his paws started to reach out for you. “seems like he likes you alot.” the man pats flokis head while giggling.

“he runs fast for a small dog.” you mumbled, showing a cheeky grin. “i forgot to introduce myself, sorry, my name is joão félix.” he said, handing out his palm. his thick accent slipping out, you assume he wasn’t from around here.

“y/n, nice to meet you.” you responded. his soft moist skin meeting yours as you shook his hand gently.

“are you from around here?” you ask, once your hands separate from each other. “no actually, here for work reason.” he responded.

“oh, that makes sense.”

“how’d you guess?”

“the accent im pretty sure.” you giggle off.

before you knew it, the conversation kept on going. your book long forgotten and floki being ignored. you both leave when the sun was no longer in sight.

you sat in the bathtub, the hot water surrounding your body. you were thinking about the entire day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the man you met, he was handsome and was a nice person to talk to. his hair was a nice shade of brown, although he wore a cap the entire time. he had a nice bright smile, you could recognize it from miles away.

you splashed some water in your face, trying to bring yourself back to reality. there was no way you could meet him again, it’s more likely this would be the first and last time you’ll ever meet. you couldn’t fall inlove with a stranger, you barely knew him.

once you dried up, did you skincare and laid in bed. you shut down those feelings from earlier. you never expected yourself to like someone so easily, it was best to never have high expectations. you wrap yourself under the blanket, slowly drifting to sleep.

…

saturday lunch, you were in the bookstore, organizing the new stock. working here wasn’t all bad, most customers were quiet and humble, not too much problems aside from people not properly returning books in the right shelf. the job didn’t pay well nor bad, it helped you get through your last year of college.

the door bells chime, indicating someone entering. you still continue with your work, most people didn’t really want employees talk to them unless they approach first. you respected this privacy until you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

there it was, that white and straight teeth smile. “joão? i didn’t expect to see you here.” you said, disregarding the books you still didn’t place back.

“same here, i was actually hoping to see you later, the same spot.” he said, hands in pocket continuing to smile. he had his hood on, still covering his head. you were surprised especially with todays weather. you shrugged it off, continuing the conversation.

“and i was hoping to see floki, poor boy must miss me alooott…” you said, acting dramatic and sad for the dog. wiping away your fake and non-existent tears.

“hey im still here…” joao pouted and brows curved.

“you’re not a cute dog, but close enough.” you shrug, keeping your smile on. “no but seriously, joao can i help you with anything? i need to get back to work.”

“just need to buy this book actually…” he said, showing a picture on his phone. you immediately recognize it, it was one of the books you restocked.

“heres a magic trick actually,” you said pulling out the book without moving a step. your face showing a cheeky grin as you raise your eyebrows, before the both of you giggle quietly.

“thanks.” he said, leaving you to go up to the cashier. you quietly continued with your work, humming while joao walks pass. “i’ll meet you later?” he yelled once his hand held the door handle.

you hummed but loud enough for him to hear. he soon left, the bells still chiming. you guessed he heard your response. before going to the back for more stock, your co-worker elbowed you.

“ow… what was that for?” you said, annoyed. “i definitely did not expect you to actually fall in love with someone.” he said.

“i don’t like him like that, plus we just met.” you replied. ignoring his comments, it was always like this during work. both you and him gossiped about university, helping in removing weight from your thoughts.

hours passed, your shift ended. meeting at your new usual spot, he was already there waiting for you. you quietly sat down beside him. leaning your back relaxingly. this time you saw floki but sat between you too.

“you brought floki?” you said with a smile across your cheeks. petting the dog as he jumped to your arms. patting the brown skin and massaging his cheeks.

“of course. he likes you alot after all.”

the conversation passed, words exchanged and before you knew it, it was already late. even street lights started to turn on. illuminate a yellow light across the neutral blue sky.

you went back home, changing clothes and researching on some papers. but it felt like you couldn’t intake any information at all, no matter how many times you repeat it in your head.

it felt impossible when the only thing you could think of was the next time you met joao. you thought about what you two would talk about. would it be about food? music? art? sports? who knew.

you started to think about your co-workers words from earlier. perhaps he was right, you were inlove. but you kept how, there was so many things to unpack about him and how could you even fall inlove?

days passed, each and every day was the same spot, same time, and same person. each word that came out was filled with genuine emotions and truth. you two were each others personal journal, instead of writing it down.

wednesday, your co-worker invited you to a football match. it was hosted in the stadium nearby so you gladly accepted. you barely knew anything about it aside from the world cup and ultras seen walking in the streets.

you two sat near the field, getting a closer view of the match. at first you didn’t pay attention to the players, just watching the ball whether it went in the net or not.

the crowd cheered, goal scored for barcelona. the name felix was yelled around, that name rung a bell. there was no way, i mean, it couldn’t hurt to check? and you were horribly wrong, joao felix the same guy you talked to everyday celebrating. hugging his teammates and yelling.

you two locked eyes, you of course gave a mad confused look to him. he responded back with a wink and a smile. you rolled your eyes at him, until your co-worker looked at you.

“did he just wink at you?” he screamed through the crowds screams. “that fucker…” you sighed out.

“he was the guy yesterday!?” he kept yelling even more.

“i thought you knew what he looked like?”

“i wasn’t even wearing my glasses!”

you just laid back to your seat, covering your face with your hoodie. contemplating about every single word you said to him, how embarrassing it was. you didn’t even search his name just to find his instagram.

the match ended, people started to find their way out the stadium. the both of you sat still, waiting for lesser people in the exits so you could go out smoothly.

“hey! y/n!” a voice yelled. you raise your head to see joao leaning towards the railing.

“joaoo… you didn’t tell me you were a professional football player…” you whined out while walking towards him.

“i guess i told you everything about me except that.” he laughed it off.

joao took off his jersey, his hair wet from sweat and his arm muscles defined by the lights. he took out a marker and signed the jersey. wrapping the shirt around your neck.

“keep it for me.” he said, running off before you could say a single word.

“holy shit. y/n l/n with the joao felix. do not fumble that man.” your co-worker said, holding on both of your shoulders.

you walked out the stadium, still thinking about what happened. the two of you walk your separate ways, once you arrived home, you threw yourself on the couch.

unfolding the jersey, flipping it to see the back. joao felix, 14, his signature… and his phone number. you were wondering the past days whether you would exchange phone numbers, you immediately took your phone and typed in the numbers. texting with a simple hey.

you decided to take a shower, not expecting a response right away. after all he’s probably busy celebrating. the entire time in the shower, you thought about his message, aswell as your response. ready for any possible message.

once you got out, you laid in bed. reading his message and replying back. this went on for hours, quickly typing back as your phones brightness glowed in the dark room, lighting up his message. still wearing his name on your back. this was just the start of a prospering relationship.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : 2 jamal fics and a fermin fic coming up… im doing the requests i swear im just reaaaallly slow 😭😭

i’ll probably make a part2 of this but based off another song

[bouncybongfairy]

SugarFreeze

Felix Catton x Fem Reader

Summary: With finals coming up in the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Oliver was falling apart. After spending 5 hours in the library, you run into Felix; who has a dangerous amount of jealousy over your relationship with Oliver. Needing to take this anger out on something, he decides your pussy is the best option.

Word Count: 2.0k

T/W: Hate fucking, Sadism kink, Blood kink. Shout out to @kaionyx who's blog I used as reference!

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Finals were only a couple weeks away and everyone was feeling the stress. Things with Oliver have been stressful and depleting to say the least. He’s been secluding himself due to the stress of finals. You’d been reaching out but it’s like trying to save someone while drowning yourself. Lacking the energy to fight for proper communication the relationship needed to thrive, you’d given up. Taking up the mindset of ‘if he wanted to, he would’ was helping you cope… kinda, not really. You've been studying in the library for almost five hours now, the only reason you stopped is because the librarian locking up for the night. The sun began setting but there was still light outside. You were currently re-reading the Ernesto Quiñonez novel that you’d be analyzing in your English class for the final. Annotating along the way, sticky notes poking out in every direction. Looking back, walking while having your nose buried into a book wasn’t the best idea. Which led to accidentally bumping into someone, sending you stumbling back and the book dropping into a puddle. Scrambling to pick it up, you open the pages and examine the now ruined sticky notes. The pen ink immediately starts to bleed, your eyes swell with tears. Devastated by hours of work, subject to water damage and having no control over it. You looked up to see who was responsible for ruining your day and saw none other than Felix. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“It’s whatever,” you huffed, holding back your resentment and anger. 

You did not like Felix, you’d never confront Oliver about this but you were sure they had some type of sexual tension between them. That wasn’t what irritated you, if they had a thing in the past that’s completely fine. However, there were times when you felt like Felix was trying to send you a message. Like when they would get drunk and fight, he would make direct eye contact with you. Sometimes you’d catch them cuddling on the couch or Felix would make sly comments in a ‘joking’ way. He offered you a drag and after the day you had accepted it. Both your dorms were in the same direction and as much as you hated him, it was safer walking back with the company. This led to small talk along the way.

“I don’t know how you’re so relaxed with finals coming up, my minds been in the gutter lately,” you said, taking off your glasses and cleaning them.

“This helps,” he said, pulling out a 12 oz bottle of Everclear 190-proof. 

He offered you a drink and at first you declined. Then you looked back down at your book, looking at the notes that were only getting harder to decipher. Grabbing the bottle you took three confident swings and immediately regretted it as your throat and chest began to burn. Not being a big drinker,  you felt like the wind got knocked out of you. He of course laughed at you for reacting so outwardly, 

“You could barely handle three sips, I'll be taking that,” he said, going to reach for the bottle. 

This made you feel like he underestimated you so of course you took a couple more sips. Shivering at the taste and feeling of the alcohol run down your throat. While you grimaced at the taste and stinging sensation, he took a single swig and then capped the bottle. Putting it in the front pocket of his shorts. The only thing you had for breakfast was coffee and a half a bagel and you were starting to regret that. The liquor began to take its effect, that warm feeling in your stomach was starting to spread throughout your body. By the time you got to your dorm, you were giggling and swaying a bit. Felix helps you maintain balance by holding onto your upper arm and letting you lean against him as you walk. Immediately noticing that his grip was tight, like hurting you a bit. Due to you becoming increasingly more intoxicated you didn’t think it was that deep. He was probably just making sure you didn’t lose balance. 

“Do you like uh- maybe wanna come in or something?” you asked, trying your very best to sound slightly sober. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, still holding your arm as you unlocked the door. His voice sounded sickeningly sweet, leaning up against the door looking down at you. Feeling his breath hit the top of your head made you shiver.

“Yeah is that w-wrong or?” you said starting to feel a bit insecure. 

“Oh no, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” you just nodded your head in agreement and opened the door; the fact that he sounded so coherent made you nervous. 

“I’m gonna use the bathroom and change, do you need or can- are you okay waiting for a second?” you asked, throwing your book onto the desk.

“Take your time, no worries,” a weird feeling began to bubble in your stomach. He was never this nice to you, and his tone almost came off as passive aggressive because of how nice it sounded. 

It was when you began to change that you noticed truly how drunk you were. Barely being able to keep balance as you undress. You put on an oversize tee-shirt but as you went to put underwear on, you hesitated. Obviously due to the recent tension in you and Oliver’s relationship, you hadn’t fucked in weeks. You missed that form of stress relief and it was starting to bother you. As much as you disliked Felix, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Taking a deep breath you throw the panties into a pile with the rest of the clothes. Checking your appearance in the mirror before walking out. Felix was sitting on the bed, man spreading with his elbows sitting on his knees. When you saw him, your heart started to pound so hard you could feel it in your ears. After examining your appearance, he began to chuckle. This made your face burn from insecurity, you asked him what was so funny and he stood up from the bed before responding. 

“You’re a hypocrite,” he said, still laughing. 

“What..?” you asked, confused and laughing nervously.

“You’re a whore. Are you actually fooling yourself into believing you invited me in for a platonic visit?” he asked, lighting a joint. 

“I don’t- I didn’t..” This wiped the smile right off your face. Your mouth and throat were dry, and your brain couldn’t come up with any coherent sentences. He started walking forwards but you were frozen in place. 

“Look at you, half naked and drunk. You look scared, like a bunny about to be taken by a hawk,” he said, smirking while continuing towards you. 

“I’m not a whore,” you said, tears again starting to sting your eyes. Now feeling ashamed and intimidated. 

“Oh? Oliver has told me some stories that make me think differently. I mean you were just fully dressed and you came back in nothing but a tee-shirt. Flaunting yourself in front of me, in Oliver’s fucking tee-shirt. God you are a piece of work,” he said, at this point he’d backed you against the door. 

Every time he drew a breath in, his lower stomach would just barely touch yours. You looked up at him with tears running down your face. Internally panicking, unable to tell if he was angry or horny. The fact that you were turned on by this made you feel like he was right. Like you were too available but that was a nice way of putting it. Feeling extremely cornered you try and push him back with your shaking arm. He didn’t even sway, only chuckled and took the joint out of his mouth. He took the joint out of his mouth and brought it up against your lips.

“I’ve never..” you began to say but he put the crutch between your lips. You take a long drag, just to cough your lungs out after. He found this reaction very amusing, nearly doubling over in laughter. His reaction turned your insecurity and embarrassment into anger. 

“You can either fuck me or get the fuck out. Seriously you’re making- pissing me off, fuck do you think t-this is?” you asked, voice cracking a bit again unable to hold back your tears. The inability to hide your emotions was making you feel even more vulnerable. He stood up and walked over to where you were pressed against the door. 

“Not until I show you how Oliver should have treated you,” he said, picking you up by your waist and tossing you onto your bed. 

He jumped onto the bed and smashed his lips against yours. This might be shameless to admit but you no longer cared about Oliver or exams or anything else. There wasn’t anything that could take you out of this moment, even the indignity that was developing. The kiss was sloppy and wild, both of you nipping and biting at each other's lips. He started kissing down your neck, lifting your shirt above your head. He raked his nails down both of your sides, stopping at your hips where his nails were breaking skin. He sat up on his knees, practically towering over you. Unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall just past his crotch, exposing himself. You were shaking with anticipation, the look in his eyes was so feral and primal that it scared you slightly. Blood was slowly trickling down your hips for how hard he was gripping. He runs his hands over the scraps, tracing blood up your sides and up to your chest. You were nervous but more excited, unable to control your trembling body. You’d never had a hookup that was so intense and you couldn’t wait for more. He wrapped his blood stained hands around your throat and brought his lips to your ear,

“Not even wearing panties, thinking with your cunt I see,” he growled, tightening his hands. Moving your arms up to his head and tangling your fingers through the strands. The harder you pulled the stronger his grip became, like it was a game. Your chest was starting to burn as black and white dots appeared in your vision. He didn’t release his grip until one of your hands dropped from his hair onto the mattress. As you were trying to catch your breath, he flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach. He crawled on top, rubbing his shaft against your ass, taking in a sharp gasp in, your pulse quickening. Arching your back, trying to press yourself against his length. He grabs a fist full of your hair, so he could whisper into your ear. 

“You stuck up little cock whore, tell me you don’t deserve him. I wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, rocking against you. Fat tears ran down your cheeks, you wanted to hang on to the last shred of dignity you had but that seemed to be far gone. You whispered it quietly, practically mumbling, In reaction to this he yanked your hair back further. Making you arch your back and an uncomfortable angle. 

“I know you’re fucking stupid but you can hear, I said say it, not whisper into your pillow,” he grunted, you let out a whine and gave into the domination. 

“I don’t fucking deserve him!” you cried out in anger and desperation. 

He then buried himself inside you. Instead of keeping you arched, he drops his body weight onto you. Using both hands to prop himself up on the mattress, one of them was still tangled in your hair. Keeping your head forced against the mattress. He was pounding into you relentlessly, it wasn’t a gradual build up of speed. Just pure animalistic force, his hip bones were piercing into you from how much passion was behind his thrusts. 

“I could tell you needed this, you’re so tight and needy,” he moaned. 

Your stomach was hot and all you could feel was burning pleasure against your walls. It felt so shameful to be enjoying being so overstimulated and degraded, at the same time you’d never felt pleasure in this way. He was breathing so heavily above you, it made your skin prickle with goosebumps. Finally letting go of your hair and using your head to prop himself up to his knees. Grabbing you by the hips so that you were in doggie style. He rubbed his hands over your sides again which stung due to the abrasions caused by his nails. Moving his blood covered hands from the hips to your ass. After smacking his cock against your dripping cunt, he lines himself up and presses into you. The immense pleasure coming from being filled made you go braindead. The only thing you could think about was chasing your orgasm. Like you were in an unbreakable trance. He grabs the roach from your bedside table and relights it while maintaining his brutal pace. Watching your ass smack against his thighs every time he bucked into you was driving him crazy. Keeping the joint in his mouth, he starts spanking the bloody handprints he’s left on you just moments before. He could tell you were getting close by how you were spasming around his length. Still keeping you somewhat on your knees, he reaches up with one hand and grabs both of your wrists. He then uses his shins to hold down your legs. After taking one last drag of the joint he presses the cherry into your lower back right as you begin to orgasm. Immediately you began to recoil in pain but even as bad as it burned, you still rode out the orgasm that you’d so desperately been chasing. Pushing your backside up in the air to meet his pounding as he came. After you are finished, let your body go limp as he rides out his climax. Once he was done, he climbed off you and gathered his clothes. By the time he’d made it out the door, you were already passed out. 

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[prythianpages]

Somebody To Love | Cassian

Cassian x Witch Reader Masterlist | Summary: Under the starlit sky, Cassian wishes for someone to love...unaware that elsewhere, a love witch is making the same wish upon the stars.

word count: 2,300 | warnings: none, maybe mild angst?

a/n: I thought a proper little introduction was needed before I dive into this little au.

divider made by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

The cool night breeze ruffled Cassian’s hair as he gazed up at the vast expanse of Velaris’s night sky. The stars shimmered like a thousand diamonds, casting a gentle glow on his pensive face. They’ve always been there–the stars.

He remembered little from his early childhood, but he vividly recalled the stars and the way his mother would hold him as they gazed up together. They had shone brightly the night Rhysand took him to his house in Windhaven. They had been there as he trained in Windhaven and during the blood rite, guiding him with their silent light. They had been there during the years of the war, those torturous fifty years under Amarantha’s rule, and all other nights.

The stars were his silent spectators. It did not matter where life took him, for the stars remained steadfast. A constant reassurance that even on the darkest nights, there was still light.

Yet, he dreamed of gazing up at them with somebody. Dreamed to have that special somebody, someone who would remain by his side and shower him with love the same way the stars shower him with light. 

Somebody to love.

Cassian sighed, the weight of his solitude pressing heavily on his heart. He thought his person had been Nesta but it did not work out and she ran off with another. That special place in his chest remained silent. Dormant and waiting or perhaps latent and closed off. He’s seen what the Cauldron has done for others, for his own brothers. Was it too much to ask of the Cauldron to bestow a similar fate upon him too? 

"Please," he whispers, his voice soft and yearning as he gazes upwards. To the Mother, to the Cauldron. But also to the stars, who are always listening. “If there is somebody out there for me, guide them to me.”

The stars twinkled vividly against the dark night sky, as if acknowledging his wish. He felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.

Maybe, just maybe, the stars would answer his dream.

**

Beneath the enchanting lights hanging above, you are gathered with your coven of witches in a hidden skylight cave. The cave was near the forest of the Middle, a neutral territory. Though it belonged to no one, the sacred mountain of the Middle had fallen victim to Amarantha’s rule for fifty years. During those troubled times, your coven had to cautiously adapt, finding new ways to convene and perform rituals to sustain Prythian without drawing the attention of the ruthless self-proclaimed queen.

But those dark nights had finally ended, thanks to Feyre the Cursebreaker. No longer did your coven need to tread carefully each month, fearing discovery and extinction. Now, you could gather freely, united in your efforts to strengthen Prythian’s courts and reclaim what was lost during those tumultuous fifty years

Draped in shimmering cloaks that glowed softly underneath the full moon, you stood in a sacred circle. The air hummed with an electric anticipation as you stepped forward, your gown a soft blush that radiated warmth. You raised your hands, and the murmurs of the other witches fell silent, their collective energy focusing on you. You began the incantation you knew by heart. The surrounding trees seemed to lean in and the wind stopped as your voice weaved through the night air.

But as your incantation reached its crescendo, a tremor passed through you.

Your voice faltered, the light in your gown dimming as your power wavered. The once-steady glow of the enchanted lights above flickered, casting uneasy shadows over you all. The other witches exchanged glances, some of worry and concern and some of frustration and annoyance. 

The energy of the ritual was slipping away.

"No," you whispered, a note of desperation in your voice. "Not now..."

You clenched your fists, willing your power to surge. But it was as if there was an invisible force resisting you. The enchanted lights illuminating the cave sputtered and a cold wind swept through.

The other witches stepped closer and you took a deep breath, drawing on their energy. But once again, your own power remained elusive, like a flame guttering in a storm. The lights above dimmed further, the magical glow fading to a mere glimmer. 

Your shoulders sagged, and you lowered her hands, tears of frustration shimmering beneath your veil. "I... I can't," you said, your voice breaking. "Something's wrong..."

The leader of the coven, Circe, stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's alright," she murmured. “Maeve, will you take over?”

Maeve, the chaos witch of your coven, stepped forward. “Of course,” she said, flashing you a smug smirk, her dark eyes burning into you. “I’d be happy to take the lead.”

You swallow hard, taking a reluctant step back. Tears well in your eyes, and you squeeze them shut as Maeve begins the incantation you failed to finish. Determined not to let your emotions interfere, you focus on her words. Despite your magic feeling faint, it responds to Maeve's voice, and the enchanted lights brighten once more.

As Maeve completes the incantation, a surge of power courses through you like wildfire. Stepping back with a satisfied expression, she basks in the praises of the other witches, her hand reaching out to Bellamy. Her boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend. Though many years have passed since your breakup and you no longer hold romantic affection for him, the sting of his betrayal still lingers as it’s flaunted at you every month.

The circle of witches slowly dissolved, their gowns blending into the darkness as the last of the enchanted lights winked out.  Avoiding Maeve's gaze, you move away, not wanting to be near her. 

But Maeve has different plans.

Arm in arm with Bellamy, she approaches you outside of the cave. Her dark hair shimmers like a raven's feathers as she pushes it back with those long talons of hers. 

“It seems the constellations no longer favor you.”

Daria, the sea witch and your friend, gasps, coming to stand beside you in defense. "Shut that cursed mouth of yours!"

"Well, this 'cursed mouth' just ensured our coven thrives for another month," Maeve retorts, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she looks between Bellamy and you. "Among other things."

You hear a wicked chuckle somewhere from behind you as more and more of your coven trickles out. "Calls herself a love witch but can’t find love herself. How does she expect others to respect her now?" Genevieve’s hushed voice carried with spite. "Circe should just let Maeve handle our rituals from now on…"

“Her energy has been all over the place for months. I hope it’s not contagious.” Thea murmured softly. “We should keep our distance, just in case.”

Their words cut you sharp, much like those claws of Maeve’s would, and your frown betrays your hurt. “No, maybe Maeve is right,” you say solemnly. “I fear the constellations are forsaking me...”

Circe was the last to leave the cave, her sharp gaze already on you, undoubtedly catching wind of the coven's whispers. "Maeve. Bellamy," she says, voice firm and dismissive.

Without a word, Maeve and Bellamy vanish into the forest. Circe approaches you, clasping your hand in hers with a sympathetic smile. "We’ll find our way through this together," she assures, while Daria nods in solidarity. "For now, rest and gather your strength."

“Okay,” is all you manage to say, though you know there is nothing she can do to help.

Circle gives your hand a squeeze before stepping back. With a shimmer of golden light, she transforms into a white barn owl and vanishes into the night. Alone with Daria, you both lingered a while longer, catching up with one another. The two of you met often on your own, as much as your busy schedules would allow.

There was always much to say given the neverending gossip swirling among your respective courts. Such as the very handsome new High Lord of Summer and, in your court, the first-ever High Lady of Night. An hour later, the two of you finally depart with contented smiles on your faces.

As you walk toward your winnowing tree, you decide to linger a while longer. You head towards the small clearing ahead, a place you often go to after meeting with your coven. It was a place where you found peace and serenity. Something you found yourself needing a lot more these past couple of months. The words from your coven drift back to you and with a heavy sigh, you settle onto the ground. Closing your eyes, your fingers dig into the willowy grass, its cool touch grounding you

“Her energy is all over the place...”

“Calls herself a love witch but can’t find love herself…”

“It seems the constellations no longer favor you…”

Born to two powerful witches, you had high expectations to live up to. Cosmic witches were common among Prythian, especially the solar courts, but love witches not so much. They could only come into being through true and fated love such as you did. 

Once you came of age, you traversed Prythian, bringing hearts together and counseling the fae with advice and potions. Lost in the pursuit of uniting others, you never paused to question why love eluded you.

Perhaps, you should have. 

After losing your parents and coven to the dangerous creatures that had been let loose under Amarantha’s rule, Circe invited you into hers. She had been a good friend of your mother’s, someone you saw as an aunt. Her coven had welcomed you with open arms and given your immense power, you were often elected to lead rituals. 

For many years, all was right. You had family, friends and a sense of belonging. Then love came along when you fell for Bellamy’s charm, the sweet crystal witch from Winter. You truly believed he was the one, but then Maeve sunk her claws into him, and everything changed.

Perhaps that was the beginning of your downfall. There were other men who piqued your interest, making your heart flutter with hope. Yet, each one ended in heartbreak... for you.

For them, it often ended in them finding the love of their lives such as it did for Bellamy and Maeve. You had a strong suspicion that they were mates.

It had always been bittersweet—bringing fae together but never finding love yourself. You had told yourself it was okay. Your love would come when the time was right. All the longing and dreaming would be worth it when you found your special someone.

But failed love after failed love…

The curse of doubt slowly crept into your soul, seeping into your skin and bones, and it began to hinder your magic. The whispers of your coven members, their reservations and concerns, only added fuel to the growing flame. In quiet moments like these, you questioned everything—your abilities, your worth, and your destiny. Your magic, once vibrant and potent, started to wane, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.

But never had your magic failed like it did tonight. You feared you were no different than a dying star, dimming and fading into the void.

“Is it true? Have you forsaken me?” you ask the celestial beings above. Averting your gaze from the sky, you wipe away a few stray tears. 

The night brings a gentle breeze, and an oxeye daisy catches your eye. It sways toward you, beckoning, and you pluck it from the sea of grass. Your lips curve into a small smile as you twirl it between your fingers. Another breeze brushes through your hair, carrying away one of the white petals. An idea pops into your mind.

“The stars shine in my favor,” you say, plucking a petal from the daisy.

You then pluck another one, this time saying, “the stars don’t shine in my favor.”

You continue to do so until the flower is laid bare, just a stem and heart of yellow. The last petal remains between your fingertips as you whisper, “the stars shine in my favor.”

You let the wind take the final petal from your grasp, watching it drift toward the sky. As your gaze follows, the stars seem to shine brighter than before. Relief washes over you, transforming your tears of sadness into tears of hope.

You would rise above the whispers and the doubts, reclaiming your power and confidence. The constellations still favored you, and if they believed in you, why couldn’t you believe in yourself?

You would find love. True love. The kind that resonated with the stars and filled your heart with unending joy. The kind that would answer your dreams and end your longing.

“Please,” you say and the stars in the night sky seem to still as if listening to your soft plea. “If the stars do shine in my favor…If there is someone out there for me, help me find them…”

The stars shimmer again, twinkling as if winking down at you and guiding your gaze northward. They seem to point the way home, to Velaris. You let out a small exhale, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over you.

A small, hopeful smile plays on your lips as you take a last look at the night sky, the stars seeming brighter than before. 

Somewhere far away, an Illyrian male with a heart of gold stood under the Velaris stars, his own wish echoing through the night. And unbeknownst to you both, your fates were gently weaving together, guided by the same celestial light that watched over you both.

series masterlist

a/n: Them wishing for someone lowkey reminds me of the scene in Lilo & Stitch, where Lilo wishes for a friend and then it cuts to Stitch's diabolical laugh. That's all I could think about when writing this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

also yes, I recycled some names from my other witch au lol

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

[nahoney22]

MA'AM *barges through the door and falls*

Biggest congrats on this milestone. May I humbly request some cuddling with Wrecker. Maybe the Marauder gets pretty chilly at night (and Tech doesn't bother fixing the A/C) so reader needs a big boy heater. much love <<3

Frozen Cuddles 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Wrecker X GN!Reader

word count: 760+

prompts:

none

When temperatures hits its lowest in the Marauder, Wrecker asks if you’d consider cuddling him. None surprisingly, you said yes.

warnings: Safe for Work, Cuddling for Warmth, Fluff, Mutual Pining.

authors note: sorry for the wait @cloned-eyes🤍🩵

The Marauder had landed on Hoth for a mission, but the planet's harsh climate was definitely unwelcoming. The icy winds howled outside the Marauder, battering against the ship's hull and making the cold inside feel even more oppressive. Even with what felt like a million layers of clothes on, you were still absolutely freezing.

As you move through the ship with a blanket draped over your shoulders, you sink into a corner next to some crates in the hopes that being in a closed space would offer you some warmth but it doesn't. You sighed miserably, the metal beneath you felt like ice, and your breath came out in visible puffs at your annoyance.

"Hey, ya look like you're freezing," Wrecker said, his voice a deep rumble that somehow managed to sound gentle as he came over, rubbing his hands together to get some friction of warmth.

You looked up, your chattering teeth turning into a smile at the sight of him. "Just a bit," you replied, trying to downplay your discomfort.

Wrecker's brow furrowed with concern. "Tech's got the heating off again, huh? Trying to save power and all that." He rolled his eyes but then grinned, his expression brightening. "Ya know, I've got a lot of body heat to share. Want me to come over there and warm you up?"

You blink up in surprise at him, his offer not exactly surprising but one that made your heart flutter considerably. “S-Sure,”

You scooted to allow Wrecker to sit down, and without hesitation, he enveloped you in his strong arms.

"Come ‘ere," he said with a soft smile, pulling you close. His warmth was immediate and intense, a stark contrast to the coldness of the ship. You let out a contented sigh as you nestled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the fabric of his civvies.

"This is much better," you murmured, relaxing into his embrace as you drape the blanket over your shoulders around you and him more securely.

Wrecker chuckled "Told ya. I'm like a big furnace." He adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. "Y’know, we could always gang up on Tech and force him to turn the heater on."

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. "I don't think that would go over too well. He'd probably give us a long lecture about energy consumption and efficiency."

"Yeah, you're righ’," Wrecker admits, his tone playful. "Still, I'm glad I can help ya out. I hate seeing ya cold."

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the ship's systems humming softly around you. You felt a sense of peace, a rare commodity in your line of work. Being in Wrecker's arms, feeling his warmth, made the harsh realities of your life seem distant and insignificant. Did he feel the same way you felt for him? Was he just being nice?

"You know," Wrecker said after a few minutes, his voice softer than usual. You feel your skin tingle with a warmth as his hand falls onto yours, gently entangling your fingers with his."I've always liked having you around. You're, uh, different from the others. Special."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his sincere gaze. Sincere yet nervous.

Adorable.

“I've always felt the same about you, Wrecker. You seem to know how to make everything better."

His cheeks burn slightly, a flustered expression barely visible in the dim lighting of the ship. "I try," he said with a bashful grin. "It's easy when it's for someone like you."

Your heart swelled at his words. There was something incredibly endearing about Wrecker's honesty, his lack of pretense. He was straightforward in his affections, and it made you feel something you hadn’t felt for a long time - cherished.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself growing drowsy, the combined warmth and the steady rhythm of Wrecker's breathing lulling you towards sleep. You shifted slightly, resting your head more comfortably against his chest. "Is this okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrecker tightened his hold on you slightly, a protective gesture to make sure you were as comfortable and warm as possible. "More than okay," he replied, his tone full of affection. "Get some sleep. I've got ya."

Feeling content, you allowed your eyes to close. The cold of the ship seemed like a distant memory as you drifted off, cocooned in Wrecker's arms. The last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

Hours later, when Tech finally relented after being nagged at by the others and turned on the heating system, it barely mattered. You and Wrecker were already lost in a galaxy of dreams and warmth. Maybe Tech should keep the heating off more often.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur r @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

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[semischarmed]

Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane. 

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability. 

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle. 

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - - 

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative. 

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded. 

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch. 

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times. 

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man. 

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned. 

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe. 

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.” 

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths. 

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder. 

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat. 

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock. 

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck. 

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

[takes1]

daichi x track team!reader meet-cute

this was really fun and cute to write. love me some daichi. working on an osamu request rn!

warnings. none / sfw info. sfw / fluff / fem!reader / daichi being handsome / sweet daichi / first-year!reader / track team!reader / scaredy-cat asahi / daichi smells good / big hands thirst / 1.6k words 🤍haikyuu collection more links. my ao3 / masterlist / requests open!

"Hey! Volleyball team! Let me see your Captain!"

Many different tones and sing-songy renditions of 'Daichi' sounded, even though he was already crossing the lanes to speak to the track Coach. He waved off his high-spirited team, sparing a glance back to their light warm-up that he left Nishinoya to lead.

Asahi and Suga jumped over to the grass in the center of the field, but Daichi was just stepping into Lane 1 when you came barreling down:

"GET OFF THE TRACK!!" You bellowed with what little air you could afford.

It came out heartless, but with all fairness, was completely called for. This was about to be a PR, you could feel it in your bones.

Daichi stumbled out of the way just in time- he felt a whip of air from your force a second after you were gone, many meters around the curve of the track and gaining distance between yourself and your partner.

The Coach's belly-laughing brought his heart back down.

He tore his eyes away from you and laughed at the situation, much softer and carrying more relief in its resonance.

Of course, a minute after he just grilled his team on staying out of all lanes except for the last two, he gets nearly trampled.

Just now feeling Asahi's iron grip on his upper arm, he patted his fearful friend to reality.

"Man," Asahi blew a shaky breath, "Track girls are so intense!"

Your Coach kept laughing at your ferocity and resolve to not slow down in the face of a great, hulking obstacle in your way.

Suga put his hands on his hips and craned to look at you halfway across the track, snickering, "She was definitely out to get you, buddy!"

He turned to see you already on the other side of the track, in front of your competition by a narrow gap.

"I know she's little, but-" He shuddered at the jet-like wind on his face, "It felt like I was about to get shot, or something."

"That's our (L/n)! She's a pretty promising first-year. On scholarship."

Daichi raised his brows and nodded slowly, impressed, watching you finish 15 meters in front of the guy you were racing.

"Just isn't..." He seethed. They all watched you stumble and wobble to a walk. "-Very polished yet."

You looked a bit pale- chest rapidly rising and falling as you stammered to a pained limp, holding your side. You leaned over the grass, hands on your knees.

"'Ey! Hands over your head (L/n)!! Keep walki- Great."

The Coach began to jog over with superior knowledge.

Daichi scratched his face and looked away as you threw up-- his polite, averted gaze fell to Hinata, who was finishing his race against Kageyama; pale, stumbling, putting his hands over his knees.

"Hinata! Don't-!" He did the same thing all over the concrete. There went a whole lane they needed for practice.

Now they were down to one and Hinata was put out for the time being. Daichi was just a bit too slow on the uptake.

"Hey-!," You were pouring water on the top of your head, one hand on your hip, making your way towards Daichi. Asahi moved back a little, but bumped into Suga and had to stay put.

"'M sorry for yelling at you, man," A glance back to your Coach to make sure he was watching you apologize.

You looked between all of them, still peeved that they were getting in the way when they just got here. "But- seriously."

They all tensed. Some little shrimp being upfront and rude was the last thing they were expecting when they got the chance to train somewhere different. It put a huge damper on their light mood.

Daichi picked up on it quick. Despite everyone being shocked you were so straightforward with their Captain, he stayed cool and carefree with a calculated response.

"Sorry about that, I've already told the team to stay out of your lanes."

Team. I've. 'I've told... the team.' You glanced around again, brain slow to put the pieces together with all the endorphins jumping back and forth. You shook your head with a laugh.

Man, these guys were giant. It hurt your neck to look up at all of them. They all had long arms and legs.

"Wait-wait, you're the... volleyball team. And you're--," You motioned to him with a thrust of your bottle, face steadily sinking, then retracted it slowly, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Your Captain was crystal clear at the start of practice, emphasizing how important it would be to show courtesy and respect to the Boys' Volleyball Team, since they agreed to share the track today for some joint training.

You made yourself a lot smaller being so apologetic.

"It's okay! It's okay, really, I was right in your way!"

"Oh, maaan," You looked back at your Coach, speaking to your Captain with a not-so-subtle head jerk in your direction, "Oh, fuck..."

Daichi's fast reaction left you shocked and standing alone, a bit weak in the knees, as he jogged over with a friendly, distracting wave to the pair.

You were so fucked. A first-year, yelling at the Captain of another team?

The last time you were in trouble, you got drilled so hard your teammates were scraping you off the concrete like a piece of chewed bubblegum. All you did then was line up the starting blocks backwards.

This? This was a cardinal sin.

The air was starting to feel cold again and when you turned to look at the team he left behind, they were all looming over you like a bunch of titans, ruminating all the ways they would crush you, cook you up, and eat you for dinner. The hair on the back of your neck went stock-straight and you felt your legs start to wobble.

Now your Captain was looking around Daichi with a violent, ruthless glare.

She pointed at you with a firm, crooked finger, mouthed something, then pointed at the ground. You gave a choked sound and slowly put some distance between yourself and the group of giants.

Your Coach's voice was a godsend and the guilty gavel all in one, "(L/n)! Run some 400s 'till I'm tired!"

"Moving!!!" You dropped your bottle where you stood and quickly sprinted away. The more distance between yourself and this judge, jury, executioner shit, the better.

The next morning you had to be convinced by multiple alarms to get out of bed. Your core, quads, calves, shins, ankles, hips-- they were all useless as you dragged your own body to your classroom.

You took the corner slowly because it was simply all you could do, but smashed the side of your face straight into a firm chest.

There was no give, and certainly no question that you were falling first when your legs decided this was the opportune time to give up.

You began to crumble to the floor like a sack of sand, papers flying out of the beat-up notebook in your arms.

"Watch where you're going--!"

The transgressor barely grabbed your wrist, popping it in the process, which gave you a moment to catch his.

Wide, terrified eyes flew up to an pair of kind, deep brown eyes and soft, forgiving, somewhat charmed smile.

You let go at once, opting for a cold, hard hit to your aching glutes instead of being seen anywhere near this handsome, bad-luck charm again.

"We keep just keep bumping into each other," Daichi- you learned his name after having to run a mile for each of the letters- chuckled and lifted you to your feet despite your protests with a startling ease.

Just for a moment, it felt like you were floating, finally a break off of your twitchy legs.

You stumbled forward again, onto his big shoulder, and he gave an apologetic smile, just as hunky as the last, when he realized why you were so clumsy.

His grip firmed at your waist to keep you steady. A bit warm and jittery at the motion, you smoothed out your shirt where his big hands wrinkled it once he let go.

"Thank you," You mumbled, all confidence dissipating when he leaned down to hear you, "For trying to save me."

Another chuckle. He was pretty easy-going, you learned. It helped your nerves when he bent to pick up your scattered papers.

"It's the least I could do," He held his hand up to keep you from leaning down, "Stop- stop, you must be so sore-,"

You blushed hard at his concern and his huge, rough hand. Volleyball guys were super hot.

"It's my fault you got in trouble," Daichi handed you a neat stack of papers.

The bell sounded, a gentle but dreadful reminder that you wouldn't be able to amble your way to your classroom without being late.

"Where's your class? I'll walk you over," He smiled. No bad blood. No worries.

This guy was a breath of fresh air.

It was the best 70 seconds of your day, having a strong arm around your waist, holding a third of your weight while he carried your bag over his opposite shoulder. He smelled like cotton and green tea, his voice a smooth and reassuring presence that quieted your frantic mind.

The late bell rang just as he deposited you at the door. At this point, you didn't want to go to class anymore. He handed you your bag with a kind smile.

"See ya this afternoon."

Your plans to skip practice today were entirely foiled in just four words. You had to see him much more than you needed your legs in operable condition.

masterlist.

requests/submissions are open!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

———���

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

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[milkywaydrabbles]

just read your latest kinktober!! so gooood 😫!! if you could pretty please do #21 with hanma shuji, sanzu, and the haitani brothers!

A/N: No on fucking look at me, I was not expecting this to end up being 3.3k and yet somehow...omg. Sorry for the demon that posessed me. This is pure filth, probably had more fun writing this than I should have but I hope you love it bc I do. Enjoy, mwuah

Threesome or Moresome x Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou, Ran

It was no surprise that the executives of Bonten did not like sharing. They didn’t like sharing their seats in the meetings (there were no fucking assigned seats), they didn’t like sharing their women (literally sex workers doing their jobs with whoever paid them), they didn’t like sharing their money, and most of all: they didn’t like sharing you. Another executive in the ranks

You hadn’t been with any of them, not really. Some heavy petting with Hanma here and there, a makeout session with the Haitanis at one point during a drunken night, maybe you gave Sanzu a handy when you were playing passenger princess for a mission. Nothing solid, and definitely not enough to any of them to stake ‘claim’ on you. You held your own, not letting any of them interfere with your work. You barely glanced in their directions unless you had to (you were softer with Kakucho, he was too sweet for you not to be) so that the ugly green monster didn’t rear its ugly head. What you didn’t know is that it always did anyways. 

Countless arguments and fist fights were had over who you belonged to (none of them!), usually between Ran and Hanma. Shuji just loved to get under the older brother’s skin, it was one of his favorite past times, really. It never ended well for any of them, usually beating the shit out of each other. On more than one occasion you’ve walked in on the fights, muttering something about them ‘being idiot assholes’ and slamming the door before any of them could even get a word in. But recently...something’s changed, you could feel it.

Hanma, Sanzu, Rindou and Ran have all been particularly kinder to you, unbearably so. They’d all look at you with a devilish smile plastered on their face, hell they’ve even gone so far as to no longer fight in your presence. You were suspicious of them, narrowing your eyes whenever another made a snarky comment and there wasn’t a complaint to be heard. You kept your distance, feeling like something was really off. After a particularly stressful mission, one that spanned the length of a week and had so many intricacies it was making your head spin, it was decided that the five of you would go out drinking to celebrate. You needed to take the edge off after walking on thin ice for the last few days. You had arrived at the usual bar--one that Bonten owned and had a private balcony for the execs and Mikey whenever they decided to swing by. The others were already there, drinks being passed around. They quieted down when you arrived, feeding you drinks and shots to ‘get you on the same level as them’

“Hanma you fucking alcoholic, slow down” You cackled, shoving the beer he tried to give you out of your face. “Who knew you were such a lightweight.” Rindou spoke, taking a sip of his own beer with a drunken smile. You pouted, ripping his own drink away from him, “I’m not. The cocktails were fucking strong that’s all.” You took a sip before giving it back to him, turning to Hanma again with a sigh. “Fucking--fine, leave me alone after this!” You threw your inhibitions to the wind, chugging the bottle as the rest of the crew bursted out in excitement and laughter. “There you go, beautiful” You bristled at Ran’s words, ignoring them as best you could but he could already tell you were reacting to them. Hanma’s turn to speak, “we knew you could do it pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing at your thigh. You couldn’t ignore that. “What are you morons up to?” You squinted, drunk or not you knew the four of them didn’t get along that well to not let those two remarks slide. Sanzu grinned something wicked, eyes wide coked out of his mind. “We have a proposition for you, pretty.” You waited. “Sleep with us.” 

You barked out a laugh, keeling over and holding your gut. “Funny fucking joke, cokehead.” You waited to hear any sort of commotion--even Hanma egging you on to actually sleep with him. But you heard nothing. Okay, now you were concerned. “...You’re joking right?” Rindou shrugged, chugging the rest of his beer. “Look, we all know you’ve fucked around with us one way or another. You know we want you.” You swallowed dryly. “Easiest for none of these motherfuckers to get jealous is if you fuck all of us.” (Rindou was also one of the jealous motherfuckers, but he’ll at least keep cool longer.) “That’s a fucking joke! Absolutely not, no fucking way in hell!” You knew, even if they kept trying to persuade you, at the end of the day they would let you be. They weren’t fucking monsters. ( You were a soft spot for them, is all.) They let it be for the rest of the night, continuing on as if nothing ever happened. But...you couldn’t let it go.

So when they all found themselves in a group chat with you, and a text from you, they grinned like the devil himself.

| We play by my rules or we don’t play at all. My place, 9 pm. Don’t make me regret this, assholes

-

“Fuck, look at you pretty girl, taking me so fucking well.” Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, Ran’s cock ramming into the back of your throat as he face fucked you. You gagged and choked each time he pulled back, Ran growing more feral with each thrust hearing your pretty sounds and seeing your makeup run as you tried to steady your breathing through your nose. Behind you was Sanzu, kneading and slapping your ass as he shoved his cock deeper into your sloppy pussy. “Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” The pink haired man groaned, spreading your cheeks to your drooling cunt swallow him up. “What a nasty little bitch.” One hand was occupied with Rindou, trying to keep up with his pace jerking him, though really he was more just fucking into your hand. “Move, Haitani.” Ah, the ever graceful Hanma. “My fuckin’ turn.” A tattooed hand ripped you off of Ran, taking the millisecond of opportunity to breathe in deep, before being shoved back down on another dick. Hanma pushed into your throat until your nose pushed up against his pubes, your free hand clawing at his stomach to give you a fucking minute. He hissed, pulling back and letting you breathe. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Hanma.” You all but stuttered out, trying to keep your composure but a particularly harsh thrust right into that spongy spot deep within your cunt had you whining. “Fuck! Aah, Sanzu--shit.” You whimpered, looking back to see the wild eyes of the resident drug addict look at you with a smirk plastered on his face. “Yeah? You like that, baby? Like when I fuck that slutty little pussy?” He angled himself again to keep hitting that spot that made you see stars and you whined, nodding. They were overwhelming you in the best possible way and you didn’t know how you’d ever recover from this--how you’d ever fuck anyone else after this.

Hanma took your chin in his hands, trying to be more careful of you this time. “Don’t leave me hanging, angel, wanna see you choking on my cock.” You were starting to become so fucked out you nodded and licked a stripe up his long shaft, before swallowing him into your throat (at your own pace.) He groaned, hand gripping at your roots as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off. You felt Rindou slip out of your hand and move towards the back of you. “Out the way druggie, I wanna taste her before you dickheads cum inside her.” Sanzu grumbled but complied anyway. Last thing anyone wanted to do was kill their boner by arguing. The younger Haitani spread your lips with two fingers, seeing your abused hole clench around nothing. “So fucking hot,” He murmured, gathering saliva in his mouth before spit right on your pussy, seeing his dribble out. The fingers that held you open moved to swipe at your clit, which caused you to moan around Hanma. “Fuck, whatever you’re doing back there keep going Haitani--moaning like a fucking whore around my cock.” He cackled, hand tightening in your hair almost painfully. But it felt so good you didn’t care. 

Rindou removed his fingers completely and licked a stripe up your wet slit. He let the muscle drag over your clit a few times before teasing your hole, dipping in before licking around your pussy again. The teasing was absolute torture, when all you wanted was to feel him inside you. He suckled at your nub with a groan, and slipped his tongue fully in you. He spread your cheeks fucking you with his tongue. Your muffled moans got louder,  grasping at anything you could get your hands on. Ran slipped in and grabbed your hand to place around his cock with a laugh. “Yo Rin, she’s fucking shaking bro, keep going.”  And you were, on the precipice of the strongest orgasm you think you’ll ever have in your life. You didn’t think that you’d ever be this turned on having sex with any of them--let alone all four at the same time. But they learned your body so quickly and used that information against you, brain melting. Hanma slipped out of your mouth, wanting to hear the wanton moans that were spilling out of your mouth. “Fuck! Rin, pleasepleaseplease don’t stop don’t sto-oh fuck!” You cried, tears slipping past those pretty lashes and your mouth shaped in a cute ‘o’ as you violently shook from your orgasm. You drenched Rindou’s face, and he happily lapped up all your juices with a laugh. “That’s what I’m talking about baby” he teased, sucking your clit into his mouth again until you had a second wave of shocks, now turning painful. You squealed , free hand pushing him away from your hole. 

“Rin, huh?” Hanma grabbed at your jaw, raising you up slightly from your knees so you were looking up at him. “If he gets first name then I wanna hear you call me Shuji, baby.” Your breathing was shaky, along with the rest of your body as you dumbly nodded. Your eyes were hazy and a small smile played at your lips--completely fucked out. “Look at her, fucking cockdrunk.” You had no idea who was talking anymore, barely paying attention as you tried to grab at the tall man in front of you. “Open up your mouth baby.” He cooed, and you immediately complied, sticking your tongue out. Suddenly you had a glob of spit in your mouth, some landing on your cheek too. Then you heard a laugh. “So fucking cute, go ahead and swallow baby girl.” Who you assumed was Hanma speaking, you did as you were told and showed him after, eyes that you didn’t even realize you closed fluttering open and waiting. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Sanzu turned your head closer to him, now kneeling to kiss you hotly on the mouth. It was all tongue and teeth, as you tried desperately to get closer to him. He licked into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and biting at your lips. The kiss left your lips swollen, you know it, but you didn’t care, bringing him back in after he let go. He mumbled a laugh in between kisses “someone’s needy.” 

You felt a mouth wrap around your nipple, and you keened, arching your back more into whoever was suckling at your chest. Ran, nipped at you, hearing you whimper at the short burst of pain before laving his tongue over in apology. “Let’s move you, baby. Lay on your back.” You complied, spreading your legs when your back hit the bed. The men around you groaned, all pumping their dicks as they saw the object of their desires and wet dreams so ready and willing to take them all. Rindou pulled you up, hanging your head over the edge of the bed and slapping his cock on your mouth. “Open up, baby.” He smirked, pushing his dick past your lips and seeing drool at the corners of your mouth. You had no energy to even blow him properly, letting him use you as a cock sleeve and fuck your mouth as he pleases. 

His thrusting only lasted a minute before a voice cut in, “let her up for a second, Haitani--wanna see that pretty face when I shove my dick in her.” Hanma ran a hand through his unkempt locks, lining his big cock to your hole and waited. “Come on baby, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?” He teased, laughing as you wiggled your hips towards him. “Hanma--” “Wrong.” You whined, moving more. “Shuji, please.” You whimpered, and he dipped the tip of his cock in to tease. “You know what I wanna hear~” You jut your lip out in a pout, “daddy please, I want your cock. Shuji, fuck me already.” He clicked his tongue. “I’ll let the attitude go f’now, see how far that gets you.” Suddenly his hips were flush against your and you felt like you got the wind knocked out of you. His pace was relentless, slamming himself into you over and over again. Your cries didn’t last long as Rindou abused your mouth again,  muffling most of the noise spilling from you. Sanzu bit and suckled marks into your skin--around your tits, on your chest, your waist, wherever he can get his mouth on. Ran fucked into your shaky hand, slapping the tit that wasn’t in Sanzu’s mouth. You cried, pussy clenching around Hanma who barked out a laugh. “The little freak likes it when you do that, Haitani.” Ran snickered, pinching harshly at your nipple before giving you another slap. “Yeah? Little baby likes it a little hard?” You could hear how cruel he sounded, but you didn’t care. The pain mixed with everything the men were giving you felt better than any drug Sanzu could supply you with. 

“Fuck, gonna cum down your throat, baby. Be a good girl and swallow it, yeah?” Rindou grunted, grabbing a hold of the sides of your face and fucked your mouth with vigor. It felt like he was in your stomach with how deep he was, Rindou loving the outline of his cock in your throat. “Fuck, baby, look at you.” He didn’t last long after that, spilling his cum straight down your throat with a moan, grinding on your face until he was done. You gasped when he finally let you go, swallowing down his cum as best you could without choking, some of it dribbling off the tip of his dick onto your face. You didn’t have much of a reprieve as Hanma took the opportunity to fuck into you hard, force shaking you on the bed. “Shuji, shuji! Fuck! “ You cried, clawing at the sheets trying to keep your head up to look at the way his cock pummeled your swollen cunt. “There you go, baby! Keep calling daddy’s name.” He snickered, spitting on your clit before letting his fingers rub at you. Your eyes rolling, feeling the impending orgasm bubbling higher up. Hanma pressed a hand down on your stomach as he angled himself, and you snapped. You were sobbing, your entire body shaking as your drenched him, trying to close your legs but he wouldn’t let you. “Shu--shuji no more” you whimpered as he laughed, letting go of your stomach but still fucking into your sloppy pussy. “Who knew you were a squirter, huh? Gonna make me fucking cum if you keep clenching baby.” His nasty words spurred you on, and even though you were exhausted you couldn’t help but tighten around him. 

A few more pumps and Hanma was emptying his balls into your cunt, stuffing you deep with his cum. He moved back to see it dribble out as you kept clenching around nothing. You couldn’t even think anymore--being tossed around like a rag doll before you were face to face with Ran. “Talk to me, pretty girl--you think you can keep going?” He sounded teasing, but you knew deep down he really was checking on you. You nodded, pulling him in to a bruising kiss before feeling him slip underneath you. “Want you to ride me, beautiful.” You lined yourself up with his length, pushing down and leaning over so he had a perfect view of your ass. “That’s what I’m talking about, angel.” He slapped your ass hard before gripping at your cheeks, bringing you down harder onto his cock with each pap, pap, pap. To your front, Sanzu’s cock slapped at your face, forcing you to open your eyes and look up at him. “Come on baby, use that pretty mouth on me.” You nodded once, and opened up wide to let him fill your mouth, sticking your tongue out underneath his shaft and bobbing your head. Ran met your bounces with a thrust up, using the momentum to his advantage to fuck you deeper. You kept crying, the overstimulation becoming borderline painful but it wasn’t enough, wanted all of their cum. Your hands gripped at Sanzu’s hips, slobbering on his cock, gagging and letting drool dribbled out of your mouth. You were a fucking mess, filled with cum, sweat and spit covering you. You should feel disgusting, but how could you? They were making you feel so good.

“Fuck me, beatiful. This pussy is still so fucking tight.” Ran practically wheezed, indenting your skin with small bruises on your hips with how harshly he was gripping at you. “Could fuck you every fucking day and you’d still be so fucking tight.” He pounded into you, cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. It hurt, but you still fucking liked it. Sanzu pushed you deeper onto him, seeing the spit and drool bubbling around him. “Sloppy little bitch,” he cackled. “Pretty baby can’t help but be messy, can you?” He taunted, facefucking you with no restraint. “Gonna cum inside you, beautiful, fuck. Need you to cum first.” A hand wrapped around to your swollen and abused clit, giving it a few slaps and rubbing at it, thrusting your cock up to rub at your walls and bring you crumbling down. Your orgasms were still pulsing your through veins, clenching him so fucking tight Rin ground you down and shot his load inside of you. You felt yourself fill to the brim with cum, two loads now covering your messy walls. 

Sanzu was right behind him, except he wanted to keep you messy. He pulled out enough to tip your head back and cum into your mouth, having the mess land on your cheeks, forehead, even your hair. Ran lifted you enough to slide from under you, holding you up when he felt you trembling and nearly collapsing. “Woah, hey baby come on lean back.” He cooed, having you lean on his chest as he motioned Hanma and Rindou to grab something to clean you up. “You okay?” He whispered, kissing at your temple that wasn’t covered in cum, feeling you nod against him. “Mhm, m’okay...” Your voice was low, throat raw from all the use. Ran smiled on your temple, moving away when Sanzu got closer to wipe away his mess from your face. “Looked so good covered in my cum, baby.” He laughed when you swatted at him. “Gonna have me dreaming of that face every night.” You groaned, “Sanzu, shut up.” smile evident in your voice. 

The men cleaned you up, and Hanma picked you up to bring you to the bath that Rindou had started for you. They were fucking assholes, but the least they could do was help you around after they fucked you nearly to unconsciousness. “Thank you, Shuji.” You murmured only for him to hear, petting his cheek as you looked around dazed. He kissed your palm, whispering a ‘you’re welcome, baby’ and letting you relax.

They’d be there when you were done, to ask if you needed anything else, to ask how you were feeling, and most importantly to ask if they could do this again some time.

[fckmini]

Hii, im new to your blog and I love your work!! I was wondering if you could do a thranduil x fem elf reader who is the princess of nature so she can control nature etc and they could of met when they were younger and they were arranged to marry and fluffy ending please and thank you :))

I hope you like this @chocotacobread ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :) im sorry it took so long!

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Spring - Thranduil x fem elf! Reader romantic fluff

I’m sorry if its too waffly but i wanted to write something pretty! 

Thranduil x reader relationship - fluff and romance :)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

this is written as a part 2 to this request!!

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-guy-of-middle-earth @catnip-and-caprice

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It was finally spring. Its arrival had always been a cherished event in the Woodland Realm, and this year was no different. A homely warmth seeped into Thranduil's skin, embracing him tenderly. The royal garden, awash with the tender hues of spring, was alive with the soft whisper of cherry blossoms. The sun’s tender touch enlivened soft petals that danced in the wind. They swirled, fluttering gently to the ground like the delicate brush of eyelashes in the morning. The King stood, a spectator to the seasons, his thoughts drifting back in time. 

Many springs ago, this very garden witnessed the first meeting of Thanduil and his beloved wife. It had been an arranged marriage, as is custom for elven royalty. The sun had been gleaming with the same fond brightness as it was now. It cast a golden hue that glittered in the iridescent dew that adorned the grass: nature's pearls. He was waiting with bated breath to meet his betrothed when she floated in. A breath of life. A sigh of sunshine. Ripples of grass blossomed beneath each step she took, leaving a constellation of wildflowers and daisies behind her.  The air was thick with pollen, heavy with the promise of new life. Otherworldly, even amongst elves. Her very essence seemed intertwined with the earth, and the elven king had been entranced from that first moment. 

“Thranduil,” her voice had been soft, melodic, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” he had replied, bowing with a grace befitting a king, though his heart had skittered like that of a newborn deer. His eyes of starlight met hers, the deep hue of the sun at dawn. Sunshine incarnate, flowers bloomed before her, but none more so than the elven king. Her smile made the world itself seem dim, her laugh was purer than the tinkling of a rushing stream. He had worn his finest robes, plaited his silver, moonlight, hair in traditional braids. Yet, hers was ornate beyond compare, decorated with a rainbow of blooms, as opalescent as an aurora. 

In that moment, two souls had entwined, as is common in elven life-bonds. Once a sapling, their marriage blossomed into a bond that neither could have anticipated. The famously icy temperament of the king thawed beneath her touch and gaze. He melted before her. Their hands, desperate for the nourishing affection of the other, would reach out, hopeful, longing like ancient roots seeking water. The time in his life before her was but a shadow of a memory, too distant and too dark to recall. 

"My King," a loving voice broke his reverie. She approached, eternally radiant, still leaving a trail of blossoming flowers behind her.

"My queen," he replied, his voice thick with warmth and reverence.

She joined him. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?" she asked, her hand slipping into his, fitting perfectly as it always had.

"It is." He replied, their eyes met, twinkling with the same light that had captivated the other all those years ago.

Together, they stood in silence, watching the cherry blossoms continue to dance in the breeze. The soft murmur of spring stirred around them. The garden, once a witness to the beginning of their love, now stands testament to its enduring strength. Its growth, how they had flourished, was much like the nature that his queen so cherished.

As they stood there, enveloped in the beauty of spring, they both knew that their love would continue to bloom, season after season, for all eternity. 

[o-sachi]

Tummy Aches - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ hiragi's acid reflux happens for a number of reasons and you happen to be one of them (affectionately) ᯓ character; hiragi toma (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; FLUFF, a little bit of tsundere hiragi, no y/n, afab reader, self-indulgent fic hehez

[🐟]: for day 7 prompt - fighting! (they do kind of fight, right?) @windbreakerweek

You could never forget the day he stood bravely in front of you, shielding you from those scumbags that threatened you on the street a few minutes ago. It wasn't much of an exaggeration to say that you were mesmerized by him.

No matter what the scumbags did—punching, kicking, swinging their flimsy bats around—none of them even made a scratch on the man that saved you. He parried his way through, giving them each a single punch enough to put them to sleep.

He quite literally defeated them all without a sweat. Hell, you couldn't even tell that he was in a fight.

"Anyone who causes pain, who brings destruction, who holds evil in their heart, will be purged by Bofurin without exception."

You sat there awestruck at his strength and courage. A fly could've flown into your mouth with how long it was left agape. Truly, you were frozen in place. It's not everyday you witness a one-man-beatdown. You were filled with adrenaline... and newfound admiration?

As you stared at his broad back, dumbfounded, your savior turned to look at you. He felt a bit concerned seeing you dazed like that on the street. Sighing, he walked over to you and crouched down so that you were eye-to-eye.

If he hadn't saved you today, you would have mistook him for a bad guy. But, clearly, he was nothing of the sort.

"Did they hurt you? You alright?"

His eyes darted along your face and arms, checking for any signs of injury. But you quickly shook your head. "No, no, I'm alright. They just threatened me a bit." He smiles warmly at you. "Good to know," he replies, standing up to his feet. "Stay safe, alright? Don't get into trouble again."

Ah... he was walking away. You haven't even thanked him yet.

"Wait!"

He turns to face you once more. With an eyebrow quirked, he wondered what else you had to say.

"Thank you! May I know your name?"

He offers you another smile. "Hiragi... Hiragi Toma."

Well... that happened a few months ago. If only Hiragi knew what that scuffle would result in—he would've ignored your thanks and ran away without telling you his name.

After that fateful encounter, you waited by Furin's gate. While you may not be familiar with its students, you knew well enough what the black uniform with the intricate cuff designs indicated.

The first visit was for you to simply show your gratitude. You planned on asking him to come with you to visit the cafe downtown—your treat, of course. He wanted to deny primarily because he believed that he was only doing his job and that didn't warrant anything in return, especially not this much.

But his friend, whom you've come to know now as Umemiya, insisted that he go through with it. You quickly realized how skillful he was at negotiating with others. One amusing exchange later and Hiragi finally relented.

However, that wasn't the last of your meet ups. Umemiya took an interest in the girl that "asked out" Hiragi. No, not THAT kind of interest. But more so he wants his buddy to end up with you. Ume thought you two would look cute together after all.

And oh boy... he made sure you two met a lot.

Ume invited you to visit Furin every once in a while under the pretense that you were his new friend. He made sure to introduce you to Kotoha as well so it'd become a norm to see you at the cafe too.

Umemiya Hajime was without a doubt the best wingman ever and you were eternally grateful. You liked Hiragi after all.

If it all worked out then, Ume's right hand man would be happy and you'd be even happier. It was a win-win situation for you and the scheming top dog of Furin.

As for Hiragi... you couldn't tell if he felt the same way.

At first, when your smiles were met with him gritting his teeth, you thought it was quite funny. You took it as your own brand of special banter. Y'know—it's like the sunshine meets grumpy trope you read in those young adult romance novels.

But if any of those books told you anything—it's that the grump will soften over time after the painstaking efforts done by sunshine. In theory, it should work out all dandy like that.

However, reality often disappoints.

Your resolve gets weaker as the days go by. You were starting to look like a fool, trying to get him to like you back. Despite all of that and despite wanting to be true to yourself, you believed in the spirit of never giving up until the bitter end.

You'll give it one last shot before putting up the white flag. If he still pushes you away then... that's the end of it.

The sun was beginning to set as you waited for him by the gate of Furin once more. The breeze blew gently, making it perfect for an afternoon stroll.

A couple of Furin students would walk out, greeting you as they prepared their journey back to their homes. Then, he came—the person you were actually waiting for.

The usual scowl adorned his face with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. A deep sigh escapes from his lips upon seeing you waiting for him.

"Let me guess—you're waiting for me hm?"

You chuckle. "What makes you think that?"

He clicks his tongue. "Don't play with me." Hiragi goes beyond the gate and you follow suit. At the very least, he didn't tell you to buzz off nor is he walking ahead of you.

"You're not asking me to go to the cafe today?"

Have you Pavlov'd him that much to prompt such a question from him?

"No... I guess I just wanted to chat a bit before we part ways."

Funny. But you didn't intend for that last part to have double meaning. At some point on this walk, you'll have to split up to enter different neighborhoods. But, then again, it could also foreshadow what was to become of your fondness for him.

Silence was the only thing between the two of you. While he appreciated the rare calmness despite your presence, he couldn't deny that it was strange that you were so quiet. It was unlike you.

The two of you walked wordlessly for a while. Everything was normal up until you saw another couple walking down the street opposite from you and Hiragi. Your eyes trailed down to their hands and how they were clasped together.

Jealous was the exact word to describe what you felt.

Out of the corner of your eye, you checked him. He was still facing forward, obviously not sparing you glance.

But even then—and you don't know what spurred you on—you reached out for his hand, slowly intertwining your smaller fingers with his.

The touch took a while to register in his brain as he glanced down at your hands.

He quickly yanked his hand away like he was revolted. "What are you doing?"

Part of you expected this reaction, but actually seeing it unfold left you astounded. Not a word left your mouth as he picked up his pace, only to stop a few meters in front of you.

He pulled out his trusty anti-acid reflux tablets from the inner pocket of his school coat and chucked a couple in his mouth. It left you wondering—was he that repulsed by you? Were you so obnoxious to the point that it pushed him to physically refuse you?

This was worse than hearing a verbal form of rejection—that's for sure.

The harrowing pit in your stomach was eating you away—gnawing at every last piece of hope that you had. You lowered your head. "Really? You hate me that much that I make your stomach hurt?"

"Huh?"

Hiragi's eyes widened upon seeing you like that. You were uncharacteristically quiet today and now you were all mopey.

"Hate? What do you mean hate?"

"That," you say while pointing at the box of medicine he was holding. "You had to take that just because I held your hand? Was it so bad it made your stomach turn?"

His jaw dropped. You weren't silly to assume that. After how he treated you all this time—it was the only explanation that made sense. But God, did it frustrate him to be misunderstood.

He could choose to continue pretending or to come out clean.

But the frown on your face and the slight falter in your voice that told him you were on the verge of tears pushed him to do the latter.

"My stomach starts hurting around you—not because I hate you but because... I get nervous around you."

His eyes held nothing but sincerity as he peered into you. "I don't know how to handle these feelings, so now I look like an asshole huh?"

"I'm such an idiot," he sighs.

Was this the revolutionary arc between sunshine and grumpy? Was it happening? Now? At this moment? Really?

Cliche as it was—the confession brought a smile to your face.

"You mean I give you butterflies?"

He sighs again. "I wouldn't use that word... but if it helps you understand then, yes." Hiragi looks away. He had embarrassed himself enough at this point.

You catch up to him and the proximity forces him to look at you.

"So can I hold your hand or will you have another tummy ache?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Seriously. First, you call it butterflies and now tummy ache? What am I? Five?"

Hiragi tries so hard to look annoyed, but it's hard to be convinced when he has your hand in his own.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[myjisung]

SATURDAY — [3:07AM]

yang jeongin. genre: fluff + warning: none

lying down in the grass, using your boyfriend's jacket as a blanket and facing the sky, you were gazing up at the stars. right next to you, jeongin was doing the same thing. his breathing was slow and his face flushed by the slight breeze brushing against your bodies. you were barely touching besides your shoulders pressed against one another's. neither your hands or your legs were tangled but you both felt so close, maybe because there was no noise besides the beat of your hearts and the sound of both of your breathings.

just a few minutes earlier, you had been attending a friend's wedding. music was filling your ears and you had to yell over it so that the people there could hear you. and now, all there was to be heard was the blades of grass dancing in the wind.

you had heard about a meteor shower happening tonight. the wedding venue was ablaze with lights and thus not much could be seen which, truth be told, disappointed you a little bit. you were renting out a little guest house in the country side, closeby to the venue since it was so far away from home. that allowed you to stay much later than intended and you had left toward the end of the celebration.

the second you had closed the car door upon arrival, jeongin gasped, which alerted you. his eyes were glued to the sky and so, you imitated him. you could not help but make the same noise. away from all artificial lights, the moon and stars shone brightly.

and so, when jeongin asked if you wanted to stargaze, despite sleep tugging at your eyelids, you eagerly accepted.

after lying down, you did not talk much, only watching the meteors catch fire and disappear as quick as they showed up. after all, you had just spent hours surrounded by other people. it was only normal to appreciate the silence and each other's company.

"do you wanna do it?, jeongin asked after a while, voice low.

– do what?, you replied.

– marriage."

your heart skipped a beat and your tongue swiped against your lips. your friends' wedding had been amazing. the festivities kept all the guests entertained but most of all, the bride and groom had been radiant. they would look at each other, as if in their own little world despite the abundance of guests and animation.

you and jeongin had been dating for a few years, and it would be lying to say that you had not spent a good chunk of the day picturing you and him in the shoes of the newly wed couple.

"maybe, yeah. but just, not now. not yet... do you?", you offered.

jeongin took a deep breath, pondering as a shooting star passed by. your skin tingled and your stomach knotted. you had never really brought up the topic before, both living in the present rather than looking too far into your shared future.

"i think so. not now either but, yeah, i would like to."

you smiled to yourself, gazing at the side of his face instead of looking up to the sky and its myriad of stars.

"that's nice—you inhaled slowly before exhaling—we agree."

jeongin turned his face to yours, finally catching your gaze as a soft smile stretched his lips. it was dark and you could barely see each other but his eyes twinkled, as if the shooting stars sat into his pupils after disappearing from the sky.

"yeah. i'm glad we do."

so were you.

taglist. @aeinzzzketchup @hyunverse — let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

© myjisung. please do not copy, translate, repost or claim my work as your own.

[hvnyrt]

Request/idea: Jason pining for reader, although he’ll never admit it

Voice in the Wind

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for submitting a request! Luckily for you I have no class or work today and was able to get this out same-day for you. :) I went angsty for this request, I hope it's to your liking!

SUMMARY: You have been in love with Jason Todd for a while now, and he had been too, yet he was too trapped in his mind to even take your relationship into consideration.

WARNINGS: Angst, non happy ending :(

WC: 1.9k

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Because when you let someone in, you gave them the power to break you. And Jason was already broken. He couldn’t let anyone else be hurt because of him. Not again.

Without another word, he jumped off the rooftop, vanishing into the night, leaving only the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cold air.

You stood there for a long time, staring into the empty space he had left behind. Your heart felt like it had been crushed under the weight of everything unsaid, everything unacknowledged.

You weren't stupid. You knew what had happened. 

Jason had chosen the darkness. He’d chosen it over you. Over them.

And the worst part was, you didn’t know if you could ever change his mind. 

But one thing was certain: you weren't going to forget him. Not now. Not ever.

Jason thinks people who reblog/like the fics they enjoy deserve a good time :)

[genericpuff]

Scamlords is at it again.

A few nights ago, there was a sudden blow-up in the /r/webtoons server showing a new announcement from Snailords -

For anyone unaware, Death : Rescheduled has been on mid-season hiatus since October. And it's now, and only now, that Snailords has suddenly decided the comic is ending after it returns, but readers can get an extra 20 episodes... if they fork over $1k in merch sales.

Now, this could be a lot worse. They could be threatening not to return to the series at all unless their readers hand over money. But considering it's practically just one degree away from that, it's still pretty nasty. Not to mention, the further they divulged in their reasoning around this "idea", the more confusing it got.

They also even revived their @snailordsrant account on IG which, for those of you who were there and can recall, was the same account they used to put one of their own fans on blast over some very mild criticism.

None of this makes any actual sense, for several reasons:

1.) I literally fail to see how getting $1k in less than 24 hours is worth shoving in an extra mini arc of 10 episodes if you don't even have it planned out. Why do that to your audience or to yourself? Why drag things out just to scrounge up an emergency $1k? Why not just be honest with your audience and run a GoFundMe or just say , "Hey everyone, I've run into some financial troubles, I would really appreciate it if you could FastPass my newest episodes or donate to my Patreon or buy some merch so I can cover the costs". It's really telling that this shithead doesn't have enough confidence in themselves or their audience that practically worships them that they have to resort to this kind of underhanded shit to get the money they need. I wanna make it clear that this is NOT like a Kickstarter stretch goal or anything that incentivizes readers to support their work, they're instead holding the length and future of their series over their audiences' head (which they've done before) for money. That's not an incentive, it's an ultimatum.

2.) Maybe I'm misreading / being stupid (someone pls explain if I'm missing something here) but I literally don't see how their comment about working 50 hours a week explains why they're suddenly getting their fans to pay out $1k worth of merch in less than 24 hours. For anyone who doesn't know, $1k per episode is an example Webtoons uses in its post discussing how they pay out creators (this came after the platform got called out 2 years ago for paying creators too little, there are undoubtedly creators getting paid less). And yet for some reason $1k is apparently the difference between 10 episodes and 20? How does that add up? And is the bit about them wanting to buy boba supposed to be a joke? Where's the punchline here?

3.) They say they have writer's block and they want to use the money to "motivate them", but then just a few slides later they say 10-15 episodes is what would make them the "happiest" so which is it? Do they want to write 10 episodes or do they want people to pay them to write 20 episodes so they can draw the fluff scenes that they apparently want to draw? If you have an ending planned out, why rush it or drag it out depending on how this "fundraiser" goes? Why not just write the ending you want to write that will serve your story best? Why shove in an extra mini arc that you don't even have full confidence in writing and then try to compare it to a "super expensive cake"? What are you doing? Speaking as someone who's had trouble getting motivated in the past, suddenly getting a month's rent worth of money to do it doesn't necessarily solve that, it just turns up the pressure, and if you're not someone who deals with pressure well, then you're more likely to wind up just burning out entirely rather than fulfilling that goal.

4.) The fact that they did, in fact, hit their goal just makes it all the shittier to think about because their audience is mostly made up of teenagers who worship the ground that they walk on. It's horrifying that they keep pulling these stunts with their audience, and getting away with it to boot - and Webtoons, as a company, keeps enabling it by allowing it to happen by hosting and promoting people like this.

Anyways, there's already a lot going on here that's sketchy, but then... they went and deleted their posts. At the time of this happening (as I was there to witness it all play out in real time) I assumed this meant that they had hit their $1k goal - especially as they had been showing their progress on their IG and they were already at $900 after just a couple hours - but it gave me a sinking feeling seeing them delete it because they had also been called out by some brave readers telling them that it wasn't exactly a good look to essentially blackmail their audience through their own content into giving them money.

Snailords deleting it gave me a stronger impression of "burying the evidence", especially now that they had the money. By all accounts, they could do whatever they wanted now.

So what did they decide to do?

. . . Huh?

Okay, take a second to actually think about what Snailords has done here. Because I know some of you will go "oh, it was for charity all along! that was nice of them!" but . . . I don't know about the legalities of collecting donation funds under false pretenses, but morally speaking, it's a really shitty thing to do. They stripped away the choices - limiting them to three - of what their readers could donate to, and what I think their readers don't understand - due to being mostly teenagers - is that they're tax-exempt individuals and they just unknowingly gave Snailords an easy $1k tax write-off. You really, really shouldn't collect donation funds like this without being honest, it's just a shitty thing to do, especially after you've already collected the money. It mostly just comes across as damage control on Snailords' part to make it seem like they were always planning to donate to charity, when in reality, if they wanted to donate to charity, they would have been honest about that at the start. Again, even if they wanted to do that from the start, it goes to show how little confidence they have in themselves or their audience that they have to stoop to methods like these instead of just doing it honestly.

And do you really think Snailords will actually do those extra episodes? Or donate that money? This is the same asshole who has manipulated their readers for money not once but twice, and now seems intent on doing it a third time just for the charm. This is the same person who practically sabotaged their own comic, Freaking Romance, because they apparently didn't like the romance genre and may as well have only done it for clout / views / etc.

What was especially odd - and I found this out from folks who actually read Death : Rescheduled (I do not) - was finding out that it wouldn't make sense for D : R to end in as many as 25 episodes, because apparently, the plot has basically just gotten going.

So it does seem like this is foreshadowing that D : R will wind up just like Freaking Romance, rushed into an ending that wasn't expected. And this, of course, has the people who read their work confused because D : R was supposed to be Snailords' passion project, their magnum opus, the project they wanted to do. So them holding the timing of an ending that shouldn't even be happening yet for ransom contradicts that original intention. Really, it just goes to show that Snailords has no passion, they're just in it purely for the money, to a degree that I can't even cheer them on for being a hustler because it's missing the honesty and integrity.

And of course, every single time Snailords finds a way to backpedal and take his audience for a ride, they hop right in without a single thought for themselves.

And no, none of this is to hate on the readers directly, I hold Snailords entirely responsible for this - they have an audience of impressionable, naive, gullible teenagers, and they know it, and take advantage of it every chance they get. It's why they weren't just honest about wanting to collect money for charity from the start. It's why they resorted to basically holding their own comic's progression for ransom during its midseason hiatus. It's why the deadline was 24 hours and why the posts are now gone.

Thankfully the Internet does what it does - any evidence that Snailords was trying to bury is now all over reddit, and hey, just for good measure, here's a post on Tumblr that's been sitting in my drafts for days now, days after people have already seemingly stopped talking about it. Don't let anyone bury or forget about the stunts Snailords is pulling on their audience, with a platform that they've been consistently given by Webtoons, because that's what they want you to do.

[starhvney]

Heyyy I just found your account and I adore it!!! If requests are still open could I request a Travis x reader where they just moved to the street and travis has been trying to woo them (and its highkey working). And one night theres this huge storm and the lower goes out while theyre at travis and dantes and Travis claims they need to “cuddle for warmth” (Dantes off somewhere idk) and its just really cute and he confesses his feelings and is a huge dork? Sorry if thats too specific, thank you so much and I hope your day has been lovely 💖

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys travis x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a power outage at a very inconveniencing time happens to be just the push you need to 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, sharing a bed, travis being a dork, he wants to be suave so bad, like no sweetie you’re just cute, anyways yeah, you both smooch at the end hehehe he likes youuuu

𝐂𝐖: none? a small innuendo i suppose

𝐀/𝐍: i love travis my cutie schnookims! anyways i slightly changed the plot but it’s basically the same? i hope you like it regardless! Have a good day :)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it was time for one of aphmau’s annual parties, and the girl had enthusiastically made a point to include you with her friend group to join in on their celebration. from the way she described it, it sounded like it would be a fun time, and as the new girl in the neighborhood, you definitely couldn’t reject the generous notion. 

especially when you found out that most of your neighbors had already been friends with each other since high school. it was really intimidating, to be thrown in a place where everyone around you already had a bond. how did they all even manage to find these nice houses next to each other?

you were grateful that they all were really friendly and seemed really open to letting in new people into the group. one had been especially friendly—a certain man with white hair and charmingly bright green eyes. you couldn’t lie he was attractive, and honestly one of the funniest ones in the group, but with his overly confident “womanizer” attitude you couldn’t help but obliviously ignore his advances on you.

it wasn’t that you weren’t interested. but you wouldn’t be easy against his rather brazen pickup lines and… dorky charm. he’d have to work for it. besides, it was kind of fun to watch him chase after you like a lost puppy.

that’s what brings you here, in your kitchen, the night before the party with travis himself. after all, you hadn’t accepted his flirtatious moves, but you most definitely hadn’t rejected them, either. everyone volunteered to cook a dish for the party in the group chat, and conveniently he happened to once again be loitering in your house—a habit he had started after you made it known he was welcome—as everyone discussed what they’d bring. he’d suggested for you both to hang out and cook your dishes together, and you couldn’t let down that hopeful glint in the man’s eyes.

“travis, now why in the world would you think mustard is scary. you have got to be messing with me right now.” you scoff, leaning back on your counter.

“i’m not!” he defends with his hands up, snickering at the unimpressed face you shoot him. “a lot of people get unnerved by random things for no reason! like mushrooms, and lots of holes, and even just a drop of blood!”

he points up as the window flashes with light, a loud thunder strike from the storm raging on outside cracking right after. “and thunderstorms!”

“okay, drama queen. i’d say being scared of thunderstorms and blood is a lot more justifiable than a condiment.” you scoff, before frowning as the wind howls and aggressively throws thick pellets of rain into your windows. “speaking of which, i’m not scared of storms but i don’t know if walking or even driving back down the street to your house would be safe 

travis’s eyebrows raise, pretty dark eyelashes brushing along his cheekbones as he blinks at you in surprise. a second later he’s leaning onto the counter with a goofy-looking smirk on his face.

“so, you want me to stay?—”

crack!

“oh!” you startle, not missing how travis also jumped in place too. “i’m surprised the power hasn’t gone out yet…”

“don’t—” travis starts only to be interrupted by another loud crash of thunder from the sky, the both of you getting sent into complete darkness. “…jinx it.”

for a moment the both of you stand in your kitchen in silence, listening as the heater powers down along with the gentle whir of your household appliances. if you could see each other in this moment you imagine you’d both be awkwardly standing with your arms by your sides. another flash of lightning briefly lights up the room to show your assumption was correct, and you burst into giggles after seeing travis’s pressed lips and wide eyes.

“huh? why are you laughing?” travis asks, though the amused warble in his voice gives himself away before he starts laughing with you.

it wasn’t freezing cold outside, but it most definitely wasn’t warm enough to get away with not having the heater on in your house. the immediate lack of hot air rushing through the vents sent a small chill against your skin, even through your warm pajamas.

your laughter stops as realization of your situation seeps in with the cold. not only was your heater off, but so was your fridge and your…

“oh my god our food is ruined.”

there’s a dreadful pause for silence—and now that your eyes are adjusting to the dark—you see travis whip his head to look down at the oven, where your dishes were only halfway cooked inside.

“…damn.”

“that's all you have to say, travis?” you chide.

“what? i mean, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?”

a disappointed sigh leaves your lips before you reach over to your phone, the screen lighting up to show the late hour it already was. there’s no telling how long the power would be out, and this was enough for the wind to blow out of your sails. you can’t be bothered to try and figure out a way to fix this.

a full-body shiver wracks your body as you stare blankly at your screen.

“hey, i can help you remake everything tomorrow morning if it’s ruined by then.” travis suddenly says. 

his voice is a bit closer, and you realize he’s moved right in front of you, part of his face now also glowing in your phone’s dim light. the look on his face is genuine and he seems almost worried, his own lips mimicking your own downturned expression. it makes you sigh, dropping your tense shoulders as another rumble of thunder vibrates through your house.

travis gently sets his hand over yours and your phone. “why don’t you sleep and i can come back in the morning?”

“come back?” you repeat. “no way you’re going back in this weather, that’s so dangerous! plus you’ll get sick.”

travis stares down at both of your slippered feet, then over to the kitchen windows, then back to you. “okay, i’ll stay if you want me to.”

you shiver again as you nod, crossing your arms to conserve the heat from escaping your body. you’re surprised at how calm and passive he was being. it’s not like he was always overbearing with his flirting and jokes, but it seemed to always be a part of his personality—not whatever this… soft, quiet version of him was.

“cold already?” he asks, rocking on his feet himself as he clenches and unclenches his hands.

“yeah… i didn’t know i needed the heater running that much, but i guess the storm made it even colder…” you mutter.

you catch his smirk through the dark. “well i know one way we can warm each other up—”

ah, there he is.

you’re about to swing a slap wherever it would land in the dark, though you stop when the suggestion clicks in your brain as an opportunity to give in to his advances—but with a perfect excuse.

“oh yeah! we can do that!”

travis’s eyes blow wide open as he takes a step back, a few startled coughs leaving his lips from inhaling too suddenly.

“wait, what?!”

“we can cuddle.”  you simply return. “since there’s no heater!”

he deflates his tense shoulders, nervous laughs leaving his lips. “oh, yeah! right, yeah. cool cool cool. that’s what i meant.”

turning on your phone flashlight you grab his hand, guiding him through your house while trying to hold back the urge to laugh at his flustered state. you wish the lights were on only so you could see whether he was blushing or not.

your bedroom was already a bit chilly compared to the kitchen, since it was at the far end of the house away from the main flow of your ac system. it makes you pull travis closer as you speed up your steps to your bed, finally letting go of him to rip open the comforter and dive into the sheets.

shimmying over to make room for him, you wave him to you through the dark to get in himself. you watch him rock back and forth on his feet before leaning over, crawling in right next to you and keeping just an inch of distance between the two of you.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispers to you.

“yeah, of course i am.”

this seems to set off a green light for him, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you practically on top of him. you feel his feet kick next to yours, squeaking out a tiny “yay!” in celebration. the act was insanely adorable for the grown age he was at.

you can only quietly giggle at his antics, unable to nonchalantly play it off as usual. you hug him back, tucking yourself under his chin, and you feel his chest swell in a happy inhale. 

“i love you.” he sighs, a dopey smile evident in his tone. 

it makes your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide open as they stare at his chest in the dark. 

“…what?”

his arms tense around you, breath hitching like he just realized what he said and beginning to stutter out an excuse. “um… i mean… not like…! oh my—i’m so sorry—”

“you really like me?” you ask, pulling back enough to make out his face in the dark. his eyes are wide and round, face in shock and embarrassment as if he had just slipped and fell in front of a whole crowd.

“i… i mean… isn’t it obvious?” he whispers sheepishly.

“well, you flirt with a lot of people. i didn’t know if you meant it with me or not.”

“no, not anymore!” he lurches himself closer to you. “didn’t you notice i only do that with you now?”

you blink as you try to recall a recent time you’ve seen or heard travis trying to use a pick up line or even staring at another one of the girls, and you honestly can’t recall it.

“…i guess so.” you mutter, and he squeezes you to him.

“so i do mean it with you! i know i can be really stupid and a little annoying, but—”

“you’re not annoying, travis. the things you do are a little stupid sometimes—”

“hey!”

“—but i think it’s cute.”

his jaw drops and mouth opens in shock. “you…you do? wait, do you…?”

you nod. “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, before he pulls you tight against him. a second later he rolls you around with him very similarly to how a crocodile rolls their prey, though the taller and heavier man thankfully keeps his weight from completely crushing you.

“travis!” you laugh, groaning at the sudden movement as you’re captured and thrown around like a rag doll. “how do you have this energy right now?”

“really?” he squeals, giggling like a schoolgirl. “you like me?”

“yes! now release me! please!” you breathlessly laugh.

he at least stops the rolling at your pleading, though he keeps you in his bear hug as he holds you on top of him.

“so, does this mean you want to date me?” he eagerly asks, still breathing heavily from the death roll he just made you endure.

you rest your forehead on his chest, quietly laughing to yourself in a bit of shock of what you just admitted. how did you give in so easily? you were hoping to drag this out for at least another month!

“it’s so late. why don’t we talk about this in the morning?”

he deflates and audibly pouts with a dejected sigh, and despite his dramatics clearly being played up you can’t help but still feel a bit guilty. rising up to your elbows you lean over him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and another on his lips.

"you dork." you chide under your breath.

his eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around the dark green of his irises. suddenly his hands are cupping your cheeks, and he’s bringing you down for a longer kiss. he pulls away a few moments later, seeming much more satisfied than he was a few moments ago.

“okay… we can talk in the morning.” he agrees breathlessly, staring up at you like he’d been locked away in a cave all his life and you were his first glance at the stars in the sky.

it makes the smile on your face impossible to fight, and you don’t think you care to anymore.

“good night, travis.”

“good night, hon.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet

[that-one-p00k1e]

Coincidence?

Muichiro x Fem!Reader, lil High school AU

Warnings: none just fluff Ig Idk bro

Note: Wowzers!!😱😱 I'm still alive!!😱😱 This was a bit rushed because I wanted to post something after so long and bcs IT'S MY BIRTHDAY WHAATT🤯🤯 crazy amirite anw pls forgive the grammar and how boring this is

Nothing felt better than hearing the last bell of a school day ring, knowing that the days after were the end of the week. The heavenly images in your head of finally being able to lay in bed, cuddled up in a warm blanket after taking a good relaxing shower.

However, instead of immediately going home, you decided to head to the park near the school to have a breath of fresh air. Fortunately, it seems to be vacant with no one on sight occupying it.

The rustling of leaves blown by the wind, the smell of fresh grass and dirt, and the silence that brought the feel of peace and tranquility. But the one thing that had always caught your attention, was the cherry blossom tree planted at the center of the park. For you, it was the most beautiful sight in the park. Almost never has its beauty failed to captivate passersby.

As you decided to take a seat underneath the tree, you noticed a familiar backpack laid on the ground. Thinking it could be anyone's and not just the specific familiar person you know who owns that exact same object, you reluctantly and carefully looked to the back of the tree to see who the mystery owner was. ‘Probably a random stranger’ you easily thought. But oh how wrong you were as your heart dropped the moment your eyes settled on the known figure.

Under the falling petals of cherry blossom he sat; beautiful mint-green eyes fixated on the strings of his guitar, fingers carefully strumming a melody that could soothe one's nerves. His long black hair gently swayed in the wind, coloured ends that matched his  irises. You've always admired him since the first day of high school; managing to get a few interactions here and there through group work. As much as you wanted to get to know him better, the charming and attractive classmate had his own walls built when it comes to the social environment. Not even the guys in your class could make him crack a bit of a smile. Thus, you've accepted such defeat ever since.

But seeing him being so peaceful right now, enjoying himself in his own world, made it hard for you to bat your eyes away from him. You couldn't help but just gaze in awe at the sight of such beauty.

Until his fingers suddenly stopped playing through the guitar strings.

The moment he perked his head up, you immediately hid yourself behind the other side of the tree; heart almost stopped working. You hear him getting up, walking closer and closer to where you once stood. As your breath hitched, you tried to act cool in case the both of you went face-to-face. You hoped you wouldn't, but fate unfortunately had its own plan.

“Y/N?” a deep yet gentle voice called out to you from the side of the tree, making your heart race faster than it already had been. He looked at you with a gaze oh-so empty; making it difficult to look through that stoic disposition of his.

“Oh! Uhh… yeah, it's me. Fancy seeing you here,” you greeted awkwardly, fidgeting the hem of your shirt from the embarrassment you felt deep down.

You thought he would be reluctant to engage further in the conversation, but to your surprise, he proceeded to ask another question.

“It's your birthday today, isn't it?”

The moment his words entered your hearing, it felt as if your organs were rearranged.

“I- uhh… How did you know?”

“Heard your friends mentioning about it. Forgot to give you this.”

He rummaged through his bag, before pulling out a box wrapped in gift paper and handing it to you with that blank stare maintained.

“For you. In addition to your birthday,” he said reluctantly.

You hesitantly took the gift from his hand, internally debating if this was a dream or not. Before you could word out your gratitude, he quickly picked up his belongings and threw a short “My bus is here, gotta go,” leaving you on your own with your thoughts; trying to process what just happened. You looked down at the gift he had given you, then pinched yourself to double check reality. Yet there was one thing you didn't put your mind into.

If he recently knew about your birthday from your friends today… How did he forget a gift regarding something he had never known about in the first place?