#of course this could change and I could feel a sudden burst of energy to draw them again

[sulfadimethoxine]

Chica y moondrop

[fortheb0ys]

Just thinking of cumming in Soap numerous times. You're tired, nearly falling asleep. He's crying his face a complete mess. Cum's leaking out of his ass and the base of your cock soaked it in.

You had already been tired from your schedule being taken up by training the rookies. Relaxing with your boyfriend and going to bed early was your plans for the evening but not Soap's.

No, his plans was to be fucked stupid for hours.

Now he's riding you as your eyes flutter, trying your damn hardest to stay awake. He's getting desperate, chasing a far high.

He wants another round. Getting tire was something Soap wasn't going to be for long time. He'd cum more times than you could count and with little down time he'd start right back up again which is an instance like right now.

Soap had just came for the fifth time and you three. You're extremely exhausted and Soap quite the opposite. He could go on for another two hours but you were ready to call it a night.

He bounces vigorously with a pout adorned on his face, frustrated at your lack of effort. His orgasm was so close. All he needed was your hands all over him. To bite, pinch, grope, anything. No, all he got was lazy squeezes on his waist. Your tired fingers weren't enough to bruise him.

Noticing Soap's disappointed attitude, you try to engage with his wants. You'd massage his sides, grip his waist to slam him down on your cock. Just to stop when you became tired once again.

You're both dirty, covered in cum and all you wanted to do was fall asleep with Soap in your arms.

"Come on, baby. Need ta cum again. Just this once, please." Soap would beg as tear pooled in his eyes.

You look at the pout on his face as tears stream down his cheek. A new found energy courses through you. With all the strength you can muster, you flip Soap onto his back and begin slamming into him.

"Johnny, one last time and you let me sleep. Deal?" You snarl, making it clear that it WAS going to be the last one.

Soap nodded, slightly scared how quickly you changed your demeanor. You pulled his knees back till they touch his shoulder. Soap face twists to discomfort than to pleasure as thrust into him without warning.

You were going at it hard and fast, wanting to quickly get things done. Even with the sudden burst of energy you weren't sure how long it would last.

Rythm was no where to be found as you continue to fuck hard into him. Words tumble out of Soap's mouth in incoherent babbles. His velvet walls constrict around you.

You hit deep inside him in this position. He can feel you rearranging his guts. He places his palm on his lower belly, the tip of your cock pushing against it with each thrust. The feeling sends him into the stars, his vision blurry.

With a final thrust, you both come undone.

He got what he wanted though now it feels all too much. His spend cock sits between his folded legs, pathetically weeping out the last few drops of cum.

Pulling out of his gaping hole, Soap whimpers at the lost. You turn to your side tired and finally able to sleep. Your eyes feel like lead and your cock aches.

"Ask again and I'm sending you downstairs with a dildo and I'm locking the door."

With that Soap finally stills for the next, eyes closing as he pulls you close.

This was sitting in my drafts idk if it's any good, I didn't proofread it🤷‍♂️

[hunkpossession0]

I AM A SWIMMER NOW I GUESS

Saw this hot hunk at the beach today, that wetsuit made my boner start growing. Now I’m in his body, and I can’t believe my luck.

It all started this morning when I decided to hit the beach. I was feeling restless, yearning for a change, something exciting to break the monotony of my everyday life. As soon as I arrived, I saw him. Towering over everyone, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest were perfectly defined through the tight, black wetsuit clinging to his muscular frame. His short hair glistened in the sun, and every movement he made was a display of pure, effortless power.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. As he waded into the water, the way his wetsuit accentuated every muscle and curve of his body made my heart race and, to be honest, made my boner start growing. I knew I had to find a way to get closer.

As he emerged from the water streaming off his perfect physique, I felt a burning desire to be him. The intensity of this longing was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I watched him check his watch, noting the impressive times from his swim. This guy was dedicated, and his hard work had clearly paid off.

Fueled by envy and desire, I followed him discreetly as he walked along the beach. He seemed to be in his own world, confident and relaxed. I felt a strange, overwhelming sensation, and before I knew it, I was standing right behind him, feeling a surge of power and an inexplicable connection.

With a sudden burst of energy, I grabbed his shoulder. He turned around, eyes widening in surprise. Before he could react, I focused all my thoughts and desires into one single point, imagining myself as him. The world seemed to shift and blur for a moment.

When my vision cleared, I was looking down at a different perspective. I glanced at my hands—his hands—strong and tanned. I ran my fingers over the wetsuit, feeling the tight material against my skin, my new skin. I had done it. I was in his body.

I walked towards the water, feeling the power in each step. My new muscles rippled under the wetsuit, and I reveled in the sensation of being so strong, so alive. The beach seemed different from this vantage point, people’s eyes on me, admiration, and envy clear in their gazes.

After an hour or so, I took a break, sitting on the beach and marveling at my new form. I noticed a watch on my wrist, the kind swimmers use to track their training times. Curiously, I checked it. His – my – times were impressive. No wonder he had such an incredible physique; this guy was dedicated, and his training was clearly paying off.

I couldn’t help but run my hands over my new body, feeling the hard muscles under the wetsuit. The sensation was intoxicating. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. I looked down at the bulge in the wetsuit, now mine, and felt a thrill unlike any other. This body was pure sex appeal, and I could feel the raw, physical power coursing through every inch of me.

But then, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see the original owner of the body, now in my old, ordinary form, staring down at me with a mixture of anger and confusion.

“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice trembling with rage.

Panic surged through me. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I had stolen his body, but what was I supposed to do now?

“Look, I…” I began, but he cut me off.

“You think you can just steal my life?” he yelled. “You’re going to regret this!”

Before I could respond, he lunged at me. Despite being in his former, less impressive body, he tackled me to the ground with surprising strength. We wrestled in the sand, but I quickly overpowered him, my new muscles easily subduing him.

People started to gather, watching the commotion. I had to think fast.

“This guy’s crazy,” I shouted to the onlookers. “He attacked me out of nowhere!”

A couple of beachgoers pulled him off me, holding him back as he struggled and shouted. I backed away, still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

As they dragged him away, his eyes locked onto mine, a promise of retribution clear in his glare. I knew this wasn’t over, but for now, I had won. I was the hunk in the wetsuit, the center of attention, the one everyone admired.

I had to be careful, though. I had taken his body, but it hadn’t accounted for the consequences. For now, I would enjoy my new life, but I knew I had to find a way to secure it permanently, to make sure I stayed in this perfect body without the risk of losing it.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I walked back towards the water, feeling the cool waves lap against my feet. I was determined to make the most of this opportunity, no matter what it took.

I had stolen the swimmer’s body, and I wasn’t about to let it go. Every flex, every move in the tight wetsuit was a reminder of what I had gained. I leaned back, a smile spreading across my face as I whispered to myself, "Haha, now you are mine."

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ COME BACK TO ME(PLEASE ) kim minji x reader

↳ warnings this takes place during ditto era, minji is down bad, 6th member reader

minji stood frozen, her gaze locked on the ethereal girl as she glided past without stopping. every movement seemed choreographed, every step a graceful dance. time seemed to slow as minji drank in the girl's beauty—a beauty so unique, it made minji question her own perception of the word beauty. 

it was the kind of beauty that transcended mere physical appearance, captivating minji’s senses and leaving her speechless and then that specific feeling started creeping upon minji.

regret.

the feeling of realizing you messed up the best thing that could ever happen to you.

yeah, that’s what she was feeling right now.

"oh no, don't give me that look," minji turned to hanni, who shot her a scolding glance. "you broke up with her, bro. don’t act all heartbroken just because your ego got in the way."

minji’s shoulders sagged under Hanni's sharp gaze, her expression a mix of regret and frustration. "I know, I know," she muttered, “she’s just so pretty.”

minji couldn't fathom why their ceo thought it was a stroke of genius to add yn to the group after pitting her and yn against each other the entire time. It felt like a cruel joke, especially considering the rule of having only "five people" for debut for the group only to suddenly change course and introduce yn months after their debut dropped. the decision felt like a slap in the face.

like everything she did was for nothing, like letting yn go was for nothing, being an asshole was all for nothing.

“she is.” hanni  responded with no remorse, not even flinching at minji’s glare, “and I don’t know what you were thinking.” she says rubbing salt into the wound causing minji to groan and throw her head back.

"I don't know what I was thinking either," minji whispered to herself, the weight of her own words echoing in the quiet of the room. 

with a heavy sigh, she pushed herself up from the couch, a weariness settling over her like a heavy blanket. "I'm gonna go lay down," she muttered as she trudged away, her steps heavy with the burden of her thoughts.

"don’t forget we're all meeting back in the living room in an hour to watch ditto drop!" hanni’s voice called after minji, her words giving a burst of energy that clashed with minji’s mood. but minji was already disappearing down the hallway, her groan serving as a half-hearted response to hanni’s reminder.

minji kept her gaze fixed on the floor as she made her way down the hall to her room, lost in her thoughts and oblivious to the figure approaching that makes their way down to opposite side of the hall with a bag of caramel popcorn in their hands, with a sudden collision, their bodies collided, eliciting a yelp from both parties involved.

startled , minji looked up, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes met yn’s. time seemed to stand still as they locked gazes, minji momentarily forgetting how to breathe in the presence of the girl.

while the girl stuffs an handful the popcorn she already had in her hand in her mouth while clutching the bag in her other.

minji observed yn’s awkward attempt to slowly chew the sweet popcorn, her mind racing faster than her mouth could keep up. "you're still obsessed with caramel popcorn?" she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could fully process them.

yn’s eyes flicked up to meet minji’s, a hint of sheepishness coloring her expression as she swallowed the popcorn. "yeah," she admitted but immediately hardening up, “that doesn’t matter though, since nothing about me matters.” she responds quoting the older girls words causing minji to cringe.

“yn-“

"I really don't want to hear it," yn interjected quietly, cutting off minji’s attempt to speak. "you said what you had to say already," she added, her tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability before turning and walking down the hall.

minji hand instinctively reached out as if to stop her, but she hesitated, the weight of yn’s words settling heavily in her chest. With a resigned sigh, minji let her hand fall back to her side, watching silently as yn disappeared from view, the distance between them feeling wider than ever before.

she felt the weight in her chest get heavier as she turned around and headed to her room, being around yn has been so hard, the more she interacts with the girl the more she feels like she’s going to explode in tears.

minji lets herself sink into her bed and closes her eyes letting her guilty tears fall, she pulls her blanket over her and lets sleep slowly take over.

and just as she closes her eyes she opens them, when she feels an excited hyein open the door of the room, minji looks at the time, it’s been an hour since she fell asleep.

“minji unnie, get up!”the younger yells, “we have two minutes.” she says before running out the room

minji stares at the ceiling before letting out a sigh and dragging herself out of her bed, she makes her way out her room and she immediately here’s the loud noises of her members.

despite her reluctance, minji knew she couldn't stay holed up in her room forever. with a resigned sigh, she squared her shoulders and began to make her way towards the source of the commotion, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other side.

as soon as she walks into the living room she’s met with danielle’s of hurry’s.

minji can’t help but smile at the girls contagious excitement, but that smile immediately disappears when she sees that only spot open is the one beside yn who hasn’t looked up from her bowl of caramel popcorn since minji entered the room.

taking a deep breath to steel herself, minji forced a shaky smile and approached the couch, taking the seat beside yn.

the air between them felt charged with tension, a silent barrier that seemed to loom larger with each passing moment. despite her best efforts to ignore it, minji couldn't shake that feeling she got in her chest around yn.

she opened her mouth to whisper a greeting but was cut off by the greeting and of the other girls as the countdown started.

she played with her fingers as the screams got louder when the music video started, she couldn’t help but smile at the music video, especially the scenes where it was just her and yn, she remembers how nervous she was when the director told her that her and yn will have multiple parts alone together, the filming was so awkward but seeing how nice it tuned out made her warm inside.

feeling a gentle nudge, minji turned to look at yn, who had her eyes fixed on the music video playing on the screen. furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, minji followed yn’s gaze down to the bowl of caramel popcorn nestled between them. 

A soft smile tugged at the corners of minji’s lips as she realized yn’s subtle invitation to share the snack.

minji reached out and scooped up a handful of the sweet and salty treat, the warmth of yn’s gesture washing over her like a comforting embrace. 

as she popped a kernel into her mouth, minji couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker within her, a silent reassurance that perhaps, despite the distance that had grown between them, there was still a chance for reconciliation.

once the music video finished all the girls got up, they all agreed to make cookies after watching the music video, minji watched as they made their way around the corner to the kitchen, their conversation buzzing about the music video.

hanni shot minji an encouraging look before nodding to yn who still at bedside minji with her face in her phone probably texting her family members about the music video, she then turned the corner and made her way to the kitchen like the rest of the girls.

minji swallowed nervously, the lump in her throat betraying the turmoil of emotions swirling within her. "Um, yn?" she began tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the din of the room.

yn finally tore her gaze away from the screen of her phone, turning to look at minji with a raised eyebrow, a silent question lingering in her eyes. the weight of their unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, casting a palpable unease over their interaction.

minji took a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice the words that had been weighing on her mind. "I... I just wanted to say... I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling with the raw vulnerability of her confession. "For everything."

"I... I don't know what I was thinking," minji continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "the pressure of debuting was just so high, and the fact that it was either me or you getting kicked out of the lineup made everything worse." She paused, her words hanging heavy in the air as she struggled to articulate the depth of her remorse.

"I let my fear and insecurity cloud my judgment," minji confessed, her gaze dropping to her hands as she fidgeted nervously with her fingers. 

“But that's no excuse for how I treated you. You didn't deserve that, and I'm truly sorry for hurting you, I don’t even know how I even thought of hurting someone I love so much, I need you to know that ever since that day all I’ve wanted was you back.”

the weight of her confession hung between them, the silence stretching taut with the unspoken hope for forgiveness. minji heart pounded in her chest, her pulse echoing in her ears as she waited with bated breath for yn’s response.

"the pressure was pretty high, huh?" yn echoed softly, her tone tinged with a mixture of understanding and resignation. she sighed, her gaze flickering briefly to the bustling activity in the other room before returning to minji’s troubled expression.

"I get it," yn admitted, her voice carrying a weight of shared experience. "we were all under immense pressure, and it's easy to let it get the best of us." she reached out, laying a gentle hand on minji arm, a silent gesture of solidarity. "but that doesn't excuse what happened between us."

there was a quiet intensity in yn’s gaze as she locked eyes with minji, a silent plea for honesty and accountability. "I appreciate your apology," she said softly, her words carrying a note of sincerity. "but apologies alone won't mend what's broken.”

minji felt her chest sink and it was obvious that yn could see it in her eyes, “I do see us together minji I really do, but let’s do this slowly.”

minji nodded, her throat tight with unspoken words. despite the ache of longing that pulsed within her, she knew that yn was right. rebuilding what they once had would take time and patience, a delicate process that couldn't be rushed.

"Okay," minji murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand, I’ll do anything to fix this, I’m kinda obsessed with you.”

yn laughed and pressed a soft kiss to minji’s cheek, “yeah, it’s obvious.” obvious she teases before getting up from the couch and reaching out her hand towards minji, “lets go help with the cookies.”

minji couldn’t contain the smile that broke out on her face as she interlocked her hand with yn’s letting the girl drag her towards the kitchen.

she looks at yn and is completely mesmerized and just like always her mouth is faster than her mind, “you looked amazing in the music video, best way to make your official debut.”

“oh, shut up.”

[folkwhoredoll]

golden retriever - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: when your dog runs off to approach rafe

word count: 0.8k

warnings/tags: fluff (i used the name "finn" because that's the name of my dog irl but feel free to change it😊)

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The waves lapped gently at the shore as you walked along the beach, the familiar sound of Finn's paws pattering beside you bringing a sense of peace. It was a beautiful evening, the sun beginning to set, casting a soft, golden hue across the water. The gentle breeze tugged at your hair, and you smiled as you looked down at Finn, your golden retriever, who seemed just as content as you.

But that peace didn’t last long.

Out of nowhere, Finn’s ears perked up, and before you could react, he bolted. His leash slipped from your hand as his strong body charged forward, and you stumbled backward, momentarily stunned by the sudden burst of energy.

“Finn! No!” you called, panic rising in your chest as you sprinted after him. Your heart pounded in your ears as you struggled to keep up with his large frame darting down the beach.

Of course, Finn was fast—too fast. He wove through the sand, his fur shining like liquid gold under the dimming sun, clearly set on reaching something you couldn't see. Your legs burned from the effort, and your breath came in short gasps. He was heading straight toward a figure standing near a boat docked not far away.

You froze when you realized who it was.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all people, why him? You'd heard enough about his reputation to know that approaching him wasn't exactly on your to-do list.

Before you could even think of a way to stop the disaster unfolding, Finn was already upon him, tail wagging like crazy. But what surprised you even more was how Rafe reacted. He didn’t flinch or seem irritated as Finn skidded to a stop, practically bumping into him. Instead, he crouched down and gave your dog a firm pat on the head, his expression surprisingly calm.

"Easy there, big guy," Rafe muttered, scratching behind Finn’s ears.

You finally caught up, your breath ragged as you stopped in front of them, panting and wide-eyed. "Finn! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—he's usually not like this, I swear."

Your heart was still pounding, not just from the run but from the sight in front of you: Rafe Cameron, notorious for his cold demeanor, standing casually with your runaway golden retriever as if they were old pals. Finn was calm now, his big, goofy grin aimed up at Rafe, tongue hanging out in utter contentment.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, something softened in his gaze. His lips curled into the faintest of smirks, though he kept his voice even. "It’s fine. Looks like he likes me."

You were caught off guard by how casual he sounded, like it wasn’t the first time he’d had a giant, excitable dog run full-speed at him. "Yeah, he… he doesn’t usually do that," you managed, still trying to catch your breath. You knelt down beside Finn, gripping his leash as if that could somehow ground you in this strange moment.

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Rafe’s reputation wasn’t exactly pristine, and while you didn’t know him personally, you had heard enough to make your stomach flip with a mix of caution and curiosity. But standing here now, watching him scratch Finn behind the ears with that half-smirk on his face, he didn’t seem dangerous. Just… quiet.

"Well, he’s got good taste," Rafe said, his voice low but teasing. His blue eyes lingered on you for a second longer than you expected, sending a strange flutter through your chest.

You blinked, heat rising in your cheeks. Was that a compliment? "Uh, thanks," you stammered, feeling oddly out of place. You tugged at Finn’s leash, trying to focus. "I should, um, I should probably go. Sorry again for, you know, the…dog situation."

Rafe straightened up, brushing some sand off his hands. His expression was neutral now, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. "No problem," he replied simply, though the corners of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back another smirk. "Try to keep him on a tighter leash next time."

You bit your lip, unsure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, but you nodded. "Yeah, I’ll do that." You gave Finn’s leash a gentle tug, urging him to follow you away from the beach and away from Rafe Cameron, who now stood watching you with that same unreadable look.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, half-expecting him to be gone. But Rafe was still there, his hands now in his pockets, gazing out at the horizon. Something about that moment—the golden sunset, the quiet between you—stuck with you as you made your way down the beach, Finn trotting obediently beside you.

You weren’t sure why your heart was still racing.

[endursent]

- Opened doors

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , cockwarming (sunday giving) , anal sex , comforting , halovian biological headcanons , penis haver!reader , NSFW 】

【 note; this is for the penis havers and wanters out there of any gender. stay strong in the perpetual drought of reader-insert fics dedicated to you, you're stronger than any troops. can of course be enjoyed by anyone, as usual no gender nor appearance described. 】

【 word count; 2.450 | read on ao3 】

You had barely started and Sunday was already digging his fingernails into your sides—whether in protest or pleasure wasn’t clear by the action alone. He was so still and stiff you wondered if he had changed his mind. 

  “Sunday, if this is too much, we can—“ 

  “No—it’s fine, i-it’s fine,” his words aren’t very convincing, mumbled and stuttering as they are, so you try again. 

  “I can finish tending to your wings first, then we can do this,” it was slightly your own fault, you had offered him a seat while you go through his thinning wings to remove any feathers that have loosened but cling stubbornly to the ones around it… and Sunday is having a hard time already, giving him options isn’t the brightest idea right now while he’s adjusting. 

  He frowns slightly, chin on your left shoulder as his fingers stop clenching your poor skin and he instead wraps his arms around your torso, holding firmly. “No…”

  It’s impossible to read his thoughts on a normal day, and you expected it to be easier today—this isn’t your first time helping him through moulting, it takes several weeks to complete the process for adult Halovians and you’ve helped him through it once before… though it took some convincing to let you help. 

  Sunday is stubborn and reclusive, though he’s less avoidant now after so long with the Astral Express… he learned the hard way that trying to ignore or avoid certain members only makes them more persistent and determined, it’s still a great effort to get him to accept help. Not because he doesn’t want it—he does, so badly—but because he neither wants to take your time nor waste it on something he could do by himself and has always done.

  Unfortunately for him, you need to know his thoughts to help. “Hm, well, I won’t start until I know you feel well enough for it,” your own hands resting on his hips clap his skin lightly, just enough for a small smacking sound to snap in the air. 

  Instantly, he straightens as if a sudden burst of energy knocked him on the forehead, his golden eyes squint at you with the greatest offence he has shown. “What must I do—to prove it to you?”

  Almost as if defiantly, he clenches even further around you—he’s been holding on tightly already—and nearly forces a groan from your throat. He’s so damn warm, inside and out. It’s a dangerous combo, to have him warming your dick, and giving you that defiant look at the same time… you almost give in. Almost. 

  But you don’t particularly feel like having him pass out on you from the feeling of having his wings touched as thoroughly as you will as well as the intensity of cockwarming you at the same time. You prefer to have him aware and enjoying it just as much as you are. 

  “How about naming every world in the Tiberius system backwards?” 

  His wings twitch in agitation. “That—that’s not even a real star system.”

  “Yes it is,” you insist. “I read about it.”

  “Then why don’t you name them and—stop stalling?” he says, voice tinged with annoyance and impatience. 

  A smile spreads on your lips. “I’ll get started then.”

  He clicks his tongue in frustration. You didn’t want him to name anything—if Sunday had started blabbering some made-up names to get you to start and stop talking in desperation, you would have known he wasn’t in the position to do this. 

  Sometimes, you do like to use the perfectly functional brain between your ears. 

  His wings itch and ache, a dull throb that isn’t particularly bad during daytime when he’s out and about—but as soon as he takes his coat off, it intensifies until he massages for a long enough time or puts a salve between the feathers.

  As soon as your hands leave his sides—the assured hold that’s been anchoring him since he sank down onto your stiff length—he almost feels off-balance, but it’s quickly rectified once your fingers touch his wings and he whimpers at the touch. You had barely slid your thumb under the ridge of his left wing and between the first two feathers, and he was already twitching and shifting subtly, causing your touch to falter as his hips moved just little bit and you almost give in to the desire to snap your hips upwards, but rein in every single thought and willpower you can muster. 

  Maybe this is going to be harder for you than it will be for him. 

  Swallowing thickly and continuing despite your extremely distracting throbbing inside of his hole, you carefully and firmly—but gently of course—nudge and press against the sensitive feathers of his wings. You comb two out and the base of his wings appear thinner, your fingers brush by feathers that are emerging and they feel impossibly soft and delicate. 

  Halovian wings are sensitive—but they’re not necessarily stimulating, having them touched tickles at most, yet during a moulting when the flesh and feathers are so fresh and vulnerable, it somehow amplifies the feelings fivefold and can promote certain feelings of pleasure. 

  Sunday’s eyes flutter closed, eyelashes equally soft as his wings as they brush against his cheeks and he leans into your touch instinctively. “Mmh… wait, go back—there, again… just a little…” 

  You follow any instructions he gives, despite the way your heart races with every movement he makes the slightest movement, with the way his expression contorts into comfort and a focus on himself—where he can only feel the overwhelming touches and barely has room to consider your presence outside of the way you stretch him with a mild, twitching burn. 

  Releasing one wing to reach for the oils he had prepared on the bedside table next to you, Sunday peers his eyes open, but closes them again when he sees why you stopped. 

  Outside of the now two times you’ve done this, you don’t generally touch Sunday’s wings… mostly because touching them—or stroking them specifically is an intimate act that despite your relationship (that has never quite been defined, as he finds an escape at the mention of it) he’s been hesitant about letting you do. And you’re not one to be pushy if he feels uncomfortable, a step forward can quickly become two steps backwards if you push too hard. 

  But despite the difficulty of navigating this delicate companionship… you find it to be worth the hassle, after all, having his slim—though a bit boney lately, the moulting requires a lot of energy and nutrition to sustain itself, and you imagine he hasn’t taken the best care of himself that he could—body pressed to yours, his soft whimpers and breaths trembling with every press of your fingers as you carefully massage the sore appendages. Your own cock is buried deep within him, throbbing desperately for movement that takes half your focus to suppress, while his twitches stiffly between your stomachs, now leaking slightly against your skin as a feather that was half-loose detaches when you nudge it only slightly. 

  Sunday’s lips part as your finger touches the area where the feather just fell, and you feel a deep urge to kiss him, to slide your tongue between his open lips and feel the sounds he makes instead of just hearing them. But you fear that might completely overwhelm him to a point it might make him dizzy. You will have plenty of opportunities to kiss him later. 

  The oils both are both cooling and soothing, helping ease the ache that comes with the development and lowering of new feathers. It’s always a bit funny to see how his wings get shorter and thinner, like a baby bird, before they grow again into the expressive appendages that you love so much. 

  “Sometimes,” you start talking and Sunday’s eyebrow twitches, brought out of his thoughts and focus. “There’s six wings, where are the other four now?” 

  “Stop talking,” he mumbles. Half your focus is on tending to his wings and the other half on holding back from thrusting fiercely into his welcoming heat. Thus as soon as you open your mouth, your hands still. 

  “I’m curious,” you hum. “Tell me later?”

  He huffs as your hands start moving again, you’re almost finished anyway. “Fine…”

  Feeling a little mischievous, and pouty by his dismissive response, you lightly pinch the ridge of his wing where it bends—and immediately, Sunday jerks in surprise, his wing stretching fully as his eyes fly open and his entire body tenses. He hisses your name as he clenches so tightly around you, your vision nearly dots, warmth and sparks shooting through you like an electrical line and you can’t stop yourself from pushing further up into him.

  With both of you surprised and disoriented by each other, as well as you finally granting the delicious friction of movement—if accidental—Sunday grasps your shoulders tightly and inhales sharply. “C-careful…!” he blinks, the combined tingle of his wings and the pressure of your cock is a delicate balance that he’s very quickly losing hold of. 

  Your breath shakes when it leaves your lips, you feel dizzy with need, the suppressed desire you worked so hard to keep under wraps while you tended to him is very quickly slipping between your fingers. “Sunday… I’m not—sure I can…”

  He clenches his jaw, in equal trouble with himself as you are. “You got m-most of it… we can finish later,” it’s a long process of checking and preening through over a few weeks, you already found seven, that’s more than enough for one day. 

  It’s all you needed to hear, you’ll take good care of him after—now, you desperately need to move. You already prepared plenty of protein-rich snacks to promote a healthy moult, and you’re sure you’ll both be hungry after this. 

  Sunday lets out a strange sound when your hand lays on his lower back and presses him closer, you other goes around his back—and you turn the two of you around, Sunday’s halo clanks against the headboard as he finds himself on his back, he groans slightly and hits you lightly on top of the shoulder. “Y-you—don’t do that while you’re inside of me!” he chides. The feeling of so much movement and how you twisted slightly made him cringe even as it also felt slightly good—only slightly, he won’t admit to more so you don’t get any ideas of rolling him around. 

  Any thought of further scolding leaves his mind like the scattering of ash after a fire has been stomped out as soon as you drag your hips back, halfway out—and move back in. Carefully. 

  Sunday swallows thickly, he feels a throb pulse throughout his entire body, behind his eyes and prick the ends of his fingers and toes. His stomach is wet, his cock freely leaking more than he’s sure he ever has before he’s even reached a high. He breathes your name and his nails dig into your shoulders, you seem so focused—but he wants your eyes to be on his. Before, he might’ve been embarrassed to lock eyes with you, but right now, he feels that he might cry if he doesn’t see you. 

  You blink, the breathy sound of his voice carrying your name to your ears snaps you out of your focus—to not thrust wildly, to not grab his hips in a bruising grip and lick the mess off his stomach. Your eyes move before your head does, and you see the watery squint of his eyes, the slight scrunch of his eyebrows and you fear you moved too fast—perhaps you should have pulled out before flipping him down, did it hurt him? 

  “Sunday,” your hand moves from the mattress next to his head, your fingers—still slightly fatty from the oil—brush over his cheek, his lower eyelid twitches as the tip of your thumb slides below it. “Are you okay? Should I stop?”

  Surprisingly, he smiles. A small tug of his lips that feels like a rare treat to see, it’s infectious and you smile in return. “Continue?” you ask, having stilled as soon as he uttered your name. Sunday nods, not quite trusting his voice to form words in a way that won’t sound embarrassing. 

  You lean down and press your lips to the edge of his eyes, they squeeze shut the moment before you touch them, and you feel a tinge of salt from unshed tears. 

  He trusts you, you take good care of him—always have, despite his tendency for doubts and isolation. You will always be there when he opens the door again. 

  The drag of your cock pulling back and pushing in again burns slightly, but with repeated movements, the feeling of pleasure overwhelms the pressure. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him, his thinned wings tickle your cheeks and shoulder as he presses his nose into your neck. Sunday can’t hold back his moans as you slide one hand under his thigh and lift it only slightly, managing a deeper angle without lifting his hips too much. 

  “Nghh—w-wait, that’s—“ Sunday jerks slightly as you rock into a particular spot inside of him, his entire body feels alight and his joints freeze as they are. His breath deepens as his back bows and his head tilts back, and you can’t help but press your lips to his, swallowing his moans and whines as his leg that’s not firmly in your grasp hooks around your waist. His words are muffled and clumsy against your lips as you increase your pace, he clenches around you in a rhythm that almost finishes you off instantly—but you can’t give in until he’s been satisfied. You need to hear and see him as he falls apart. 

  Sunday moves his head to the side and away from your lips, his expression pinching as the final thrust needed sends him over the edge and he cries out, and you quickly join him. 

  His head spins, Sunday feels like he’s in a whirl-winding pool—but realises the wetness he feels is just his own, and not pool water. He pants, squinting at you. “D-did you pull o-out?” he’s barely recovered enough to ask, and his body thrums so much still that he can’t feel it. 

  When you only give a sheepish smile, he pinches your ear, earning an; “ow!”. Sunday’s lips purse in a frown-pout. “You better help me clean up, then.”

  He doesn’t even need to ask.

[matcha3mochi]

gojo satoru x reader

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

“Catch me if you can, Satoru!” you shouted, your laughter ringing out like a bell as you darted away, the thrill of the chase igniting your spirit.

Gojo’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he sprinted after you, a wide grin spreading across his face. His body moved with a fluid grace, each stride long and confident, arms swinging rhythmically by his sides. You felt the rush of adrenaline course through you, your heart racing as you glanced back to see him gaining on you, his playful determination evident in the way he narrowed his gaze, a determined glint lighting up his features.

You glanced back, a competitive smile on your face, feeling the wind whip through your hair, carrying the scent of grass and adventure. The moment felt electric, the excitement of the chase igniting a fire within you. With a burst of energy, you dodged a swing, your footwork nimble and agile, and the carefree joy of the game radiated from your every movement.

As you dashed through the playground, Gojo’s laughter filled the air, an infectious sound that made you grin even wider. You could feel his presence behind you, the thrill of his pursuit fueling your speed. He was close enough that you could hear his breath, each exhale a mix of excitement and determination. His long legs covered the ground effortlessly, but you were determined not to let him catch you easily.

In a burst of energy, you stumbled to a halt, pretending to catch your breath. “You’re slow, Satoru! You’ll never catch me!” you called, giggling as you bent over, your hands resting on your knees, chest rising and falling with each breath.

He paused, panting, his expression a playful mixture of mock offense and determination. “Is that a challenge?”

With a sudden movement, he lunged forward, every muscle in his body working in harmony as he darted toward you, a look of pure joy and mischief in his eyes. You felt a thrill rush through you, and as he reached out, his fingers barely brushing against your shoulder, a surge of exhilaration shot through your body.

“Gotcha!” he declared, his voice a triumphant shout as he tagged you.

You squealed in surprise, your laughter echoing around you as you fell back onto the grass, breathless. The world melted away as you both collapsed, staring up at the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The soft rustle of leaves and distant giggles of other children created a serene backdrop, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“Y/N,” Gojo started, turning his head to look at you, his expression softening. “Do you think we’ll always be friends?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Of course! We’ve been best friends since forever. Nothing could ever change that!”

His heart swelled with warmth at your words, yet a shadow of doubt flickered in his chest. “Yeah, forever,” he repeated, though the word felt heavy with unspoken feelings.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grass, you both lay back in silence, watching the first stars twinkle into existence. The tranquility of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, but Gojo’s heart raced with the weight of unconfessed emotions.

“Hey, Satoru,” you said softly, breaking the stillness, “do you ever think about what we want to be when we grow up?”

He turned to face you, his heart racing. “All the time. I want to be strong, to protect the people I care about,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “I want to help people too. Maybe as a teacher or a healer.”

Gojo’s heart soared at the thought of you making a difference in the world, yet a pang of longing hit him. “You’ll be amazing at whatever you choose,” he said, his gaze intense, wishing you could see the depth of his feelings.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you said, staring into his eyes for a moment, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. You then looked back up at the sky, chuckling softly. “And I believe you’ll do great things too, you’re destined for it!”

Your genuine smile lit up your face, and he felt a warmth spread through him, yet it was tinged with sadness. He wanted to tell you how he truly felt, how much you meant to him, but the words eluded him.

As the evening wore on, the playful banter continued, weaving through dreams and secrets, each laugh shared a treasure to be cherished. But with every passing moment, Gojo felt the weight of his hidden feelings pressing down on him, a bittersweet ache that wouldn’t relent.

Finally, as the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle brightly above, you both decided to head home. As you walked side by side, the air was filled with an easy familiarity, yet Gojo felt an urgency rise within him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “I really like spending time with you. You know that, right?”

You turned to him, your expression bright and completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words, laughter bubbling up as you said, “Of course! I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me!”

Gojo’s heart fluttered at your words, a mix of relief and affection washing over him. “Good,” he replied, managing a playful grin, though his gaze held a deeper intensity. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Just promise me you’ll still want to hang out when we’re all grown up.”

You chuckled again, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “As if I could ever get tired of you, Satoru! You’re like my annoying brother.”

“Annoying?” he feigned offense, crossing his arms dramatically. “I prefer to think of myself as your charming protector.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. “Right! The charming protector who always loses at video games!”

He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m just letting you win. It’s all part of my master plan to keep you around.”

Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the shared moment deepening as you both walk through the streets. The stars above began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry. In that peaceful quiet, Gojo felt a surge of emotions he could no longer suppress.

“You know,” he began hesitantly, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I really mean it when I say I like spending time with you. You make everything better.”

He felt the familiar ache return, but this time, it was laced with hope. “Maybe… maybe one day, you’ll see me as more than just a friend.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he quickly added, “But for now, I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled, sensing the weight of his words, yet unaware of their full meaning. “Always, Satoru. Always.”

Gojo silently vowed to himself to find the courage to share his true feelings. For now, he would cherish the laughter and moments you shared, holding onto the hope that one day, you might see him in a different light.

[elliewithcellie]

Graduation Jitters

summary: You and Steve celebrate passing your final class

wc: 0.6k

warnings/tags: gender neutral reader (but let me know if you notice otherwise), established relationship, mostly fluffy i think, characters are each at least 22 here, no y/n

*********

The digital clock may as well have been analog the way you felt the seconds tick away. Your heart kept in time. Steve took longer than usual to return home from work. Anticipation filled your feet, lifting you from your seated position, now pacing in the living room. There was no use distracting yourself with TV or a book. Your mind raced with the news of your day.

The doorknob shook, pulling your attention from your thoughts. The door opened revealing your boyfriend. His eyes met yours, and a smile lit his face.

“Hi, baby,” he said. He closed the door with his foot, an arm staying behind his back.

“I did it,” you said. “I passed! I’m actually graduating! I’m getting my degree!” You couldn’t contain your excitement, the energy expelling from the balls of your feet as you all but skipped toward him.

Steve put his arm out for a hug. You gladly accepted, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m so proud of you.” He spoke quietly as if his message was only for you to hear. “I knew you could do it. Which is why I got you these.” He pulled his hiding arm around and revealed a bouquet of flowers.

“Steve, you shouldn’t have!” Your voice wobbled, and tears welled up in your eyes. Your sudden burst of emotion surprised both of you. You laughed despite yourself. “Sorry, sorry.”

He set the flowers down and pulled you even closer, lifting your chin to look up at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. I’m—I’m just so thankful that you’re here with me.”

“Of course, I’m here. You didn’t think I’d just ditch you after all this time, did you?” He chuckled and wiped your tears from your cheek.

“I guess not. It’s just that…so much has changed. Nothing is how it was when I started. It was so hard, Steve.”

“I know. Which is why I know how much this means to you. I know how hard you’ve worked, even if I haven’t been there for all of it. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, ok? So, you better believe that I’ll be right there with your parents cheering you on when they call your name.”

You huffed out a breath you were holding in. “You’re pretty great, you know that?”

“I had a feeling,” he teased. His expression switched from smug to uneasy. “They do know about me, right? It’s one thing to introduce yourself to the parents, but for it to be a surprise—”

“Of course, they do!” you laughed. “You’ll do great. My mom will welcome you with open arms. My dad, well, he’ll do his best. I promise. Just don’t tell them that we live together because they don’t know that yet.” You winced at your own words, waiting for Steve’s response.

Steve’s face shifted to one of horror. “You’re joking, right? You didn’t think that would be necessary information?”

“They can piece it together when they get here.” You shrugged.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Steve asked, fondness painting his voice. He pulled you in for a kiss, feathery and light, but loving, nonetheless. “Oh, gosh, I almost forgot!”

“What is it?”

“Your other gift,” Steve smirked. “I’ll go set up your flowers. Go to my car in the backseat, and you’ll find a little treat.”

Your eyes widened as the smile beneath your nose grew. Without another word, you dashed out to his car. A “Congrats” cake sat in the backseat, and you smiled to yourself. You were so thankful to have such a thoughtful man in your life.

[https-harlow]

Trick Or Treat

Summary- You, Jack, and Urban take Paisley, Olive, and Hayden trick or treating.

Everyone was dressed and ready to go trick or treating. Olive in her Taylor Swift “Lover” costume that you and Jack managed to finish even though she changed her mind a couple of days before Halloween. Paisley was dressed in her butterfly fairy costume, a long dress with butterfly wings and a fairy wand. Hayden was even dressed up. Olive picked out Hayden’s costume for his first Halloween and she wanted him to dress up as Sadie, the family goldendoodle. You and Jack were even dressed up as Barbie and Ken. 

“Daddy, when is Uncle Urban going to be here?” Paisley asked, Urban was coming with you and Jack before he was going out to a party.

“In a couple minutes, then we’ll leave,” Jack said. You got Hayden comfortable in his stroller, surrounding him with a blanket in case he got cold later on. Hayden reached up to feel for the floppy ear that he was holding on to earlier. As soon as you stepped away to grab the Halloween baskets, he started crying, Jack was helping Paisley buckle her shoes.

“I got it,” Olive said, jumping up from the couch and going over to her little brother. She didn’t know what he wanted but as soon as she figured it out she moved the ear so he could grab it. As soon as he did, he stopped crying. “Mommy! I did it! I made him stop crying!” Olive said excitedly.

“Good job Liv, thank you for helping.”

“See, I told you you’d be a good big sister,” Jack said as he stood up.

“Yeah, I like being a big sister, I love Hayden,” Olive said as she played with the fur of his costume. Urban walked in the front door, the girls running to him.

“UNCLE URBAN!” They yelled, practically jumping on him.

“Hi, my favorite Harlow girls,” Urban said, picking up Paisley to hug her before picking up Olive to hug her. “Are you guys excited?” 

“Yeah! Look at my costume!” Paisley said, spinning around so her dress would flare.

“Woah, that’s so pretty! I love your costume too Olive!” Urban told them before saying hi to you and Jack and going over to see Hayden’s costume.

“Can we go now?” Paisley asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Jack handed the girls their buckets and you put a bag in the bottom of Hayden’s stroller just in case their buckets got too heavy for them. You started pushing the stroller but Jack quickly took over. 

You all walked the neighborhood, the girls getting an amount of candy that would at least last 2 months. The girls both dumped their buckets into the bag you brought at least once. Hayden was even given a little candy even though he was too young to eat any. 

Towards the end of the night, Olive got tired of walking and you still had a couple blocks until you were home. You took over pushing Hayden, Jack carried Olive, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Urban carried her bucket while walking with Paisley. You stopped at a couple more houses before making it back to your own. 

As soon as you got home, Urban left to go to his party and Olive got a sudden burst of energy at the thought of getting to eat some of her candy. Jack got Hayden changed and mostly ready for bed before sitting on the couch to feed him a bottle. 

Paisley and Olive sat on the ground, dumping all of their candy out onto the floor.

“Can I have the M&M’s?” Olive asked Paisley.

“As long as I can have the Skittles,” Paisley said and Olive nodded.

“Okay,” she nodded.

They sorted all of their candy evenly except for the Skittles, M&M’s, and Resse’s cups which Olive hated but Paisley loved so Paisley gave Olive some of her Kit Kat’s for them.

Of course, the girls ate way too much candy and had a sugar rush all night, but that was part of the fun of Halloween.

Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404 @hufflewhore128

[writingforfishes]

(context:

*sees silly pictures of a lil bird on my dash*

braincell one: aw

braincell two: that face radiates otto energy

braincell one: wut)

atty doesn't seem the type to willingly go into nature (and, like, same) but like. silly birds. literary inspiration. etc

ottocus birdwatching just feels right for some reason. whether this is the most random concept or another accidental prediction. thought i should let u know. like as the seasons are changing and migration patterns are patterning, atty takes notice & after using birds n leaves n shi as a muse they drag their husband out to look at how pretty the scenery is. obligatory otto hiccuping n scaring the birds away lol

-🪱

Ask circa September 16.

Little ficlet (aka "hiclet")

A month after Atticus moved in, they were watching a bird nature film and got a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Hey, are there any good places for birdwatching around here that you know of?" they asked loudly to catch the ear of their partner who was hunched over a watch, eye loupe pulled down over one lens of his reading glasses.

"Uh..." Otto uttered, head poking up with a faraway look on his face while thinking. "I think there's a look out on a hiking trail that's fairly close by. Why?"

"You wanna go hiking? I want to see some birds," Atticus said matter-of-factly.

Otto considered it and shrugged, "Sure! I can dig out my grandma's picnic basket. Maybe we can have lunch there, too?"

"Cool," Atticus said. "Also...which grandma?"

"Oh, dad's side," Otto said with a meaningful nod.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Atticus said.

The maternal side of Otto's family were uptight prudes who wouldn't be caught dead on a patch of grass that wasn't imported and trimmed on a golf course.

Otto's dad's family, on the other hand, was from "the old country". Germany. At least part of them. That's where the whole clock thing came from. That was an abbreviated version of what Otto had told Atticus, at least.

The next day Otto, Atticus, a picnic basket full of vintage cutlery and food, and a backpack full of whatever Atty thought one would need on a hike made their way up the winding trail to the look out that promised a view of birds.

Atticus had hiked a few times. They enjoyed it for the most part. Despite their natural inclination to be inside and sedentary while writing, they did have a soft spot for brief jaunts in nature.

Otto had been a pretty physical person his entire life. It was only in the last few years that he'd settled down with his sobriety and settling into his profession of clock repair more.

But neither one of them were quite prepared for the "hard" rated trail that wound up and through the wooded mountain side over tree roots and rocks.

"Why...is this...so hard?!" Atticus exclaimed as they shifted the backpack of water, bug spray, first aid equipment, and medicines on their back. They panted a little as they stretched their legs to hoist over yet another upwards path of tree branches cut around to serve as natural stairsteps.

"I dunno," Otto said with a sniff. He realized now that he should've taken allergy medication before they started. He'd been sniffing for the last few miles, and he could feel the itchiness in his throat and eyes. He rubbed his nose aggressively with the back of his wrist.

"Do you want me to take the backpack for a little bit?" he asked.

"No!" Atticus said stubbornly. "I got this. I'm good. Just a little further. Point five miles. That's what the last little...little wooden sign said...right?"

"Yeah..." Otto said and then coughed a little. "Hey...what meds did you bring again?"

"Pretty much everything in the cabinet, why?"

"Did you get the...the Allegra and Flonase?" he asked, hopefully.

"Oh yeah. Totally did. Cause I'm awesome! The outside starting to try and murder you?" Atticus asked.

"Vehemently," he said and paused to grab a tree as he let loose three powerful sneezes into the crook of his arm.

Atticus watched as they wiped a sheen of oily sweat from their forehead.

"These birds better be the best birds ever," they lamented watching their boyfriend pull out a handkerchief and clear his sinuses into it before tucking it into his pants.

Otto laughed lightly, exhaustedly, in their direction.

If the birds weren't worth it, the clearing certainly was. It was more a field with picnic tables with the edge overlooking the mountain's edge than a traditional look out with a single location to stand and hope to see birds from.

Huffing and puffing the couple put their supplies down on one of the tables and sat heavily next to each other for a moment.

Atticus wordlessly slid the bottle of Allegra and spray bottle of Flonase over to Otto with the reusable water bottle they'd kept in the backpack. Otto took them gratefully.

When the clock maker started to spray the Flonase though Atticus grabbed his arm and pointed to a particularly pretty bird that had landed on the wooden rail beside them.

"Ooh look! It's a-a-a bird!" Atticus finished a little lamely. They suddenly realized that despite having watched an entire documentary about birds they had no idea how to identify the birds they were seeking out.

Otto sniffed the Flonase a little too powerfully and some ended up in his throat as he turned to look, suppressing coughs from the bitter fluid hitting the back of his throat.

His gift for the effort of looking was a...well it was a bird. And for all of the random facts, trivia, and history Otto had stashed in his noggin over the years he suddenly realized that, aside from a few clock specific birds (namely the Cuckoo), he possessed very little knowledge on taxonomy and identification of birds.

"Oh *koff* yeah it's *kuf kuf* pretty..." Otto said emitting more soft coughs as Atticus rubbed his back until, "HUP!-HUCK! Oh! HU'UCK!-HMK! Uh!"

The bird, which had been lingering for them to ogle a little while, flustered and took off at the sudden sounds.

Atticus would've been more flustered themselves if they hadn't already been treated by Otto's hiccups that morning. But they still felt the buzz of excitement at the loud interruptions and feelings of his body jolting next to them.

"Well, so much for the birds," Atticus teased as they widened their eyes at Otto pointedly.

Otto had his hand over his mouth in response, his body jumping with the barely muffled spasms, the bottom of his throat pulling in sharply as the hiccups kept volleying through him.

"I'm MMK'M! so-HMP!-sorry! I didn't HM'MMP!-didn't know I HMP!MK! waUHs gonna get HIMP! get them again to--today!" he said.

Atticus laughed giving him another rub to his back at his endearing apology.

"It's okay!" they assured him. "I'd rather have you and your diaphragm's loud opinions than birds any day!"

Otto gave his partner a soft smile, still muffling the hiccups as his body jerked dramatically every second or two. Hopefully they wouldn't last too long. However, he had started to be much more patient with them after learning of Atticus' reaction.

In the past, Otto felt anywhere from mildly annoyed with his hiccups to begrudging patience to apathy depending on the situation and how bad the case was. This new emotion, excitement and warmth, was something he'd never felt for the occasionally inconvenient bodily function he was prone to having. It was oddly comforting, in some ways, to know someone was not only patient with them but also appreciative of them.

Being this was before either of them had discovered a way to cure Otto's hiccups effectively, they both resolved to wait them out as Atticus started to unpack the basket.

"Shit, this thing is heavy! What...are these actual plates?" Atticus exclaimed as they slid the basket over from where Otto had put it.

They weren't able to keep their eyes off of Otto for long. They could see the side of his abdomen from beside them and feel the spasms if they leaned in a bit. The shirt he'd unbuttoned lower as they'd both continued to exert more energy in climbing showed his chest's movements in addition to the reflexive pooch that pushed out his stomach and expanded his ribs.

"Yeah the--they're part of HMP!HMK! the-HUP! the set!" he said and patted his chest a couple of times. "Ugh. HU'UCK! It was--It was very he-HIP!-heavy. Not exactly HM'MP! meant for h--hiking I don't think. HULMP'K!"

That last hiccup caught his throat, and he set off a chain of coughing and hiccuping, one right after the other, until he downed some water from his bottle to quell the coughing at least.

Atticus watched him in sympathy, hand becoming a constant present on his shoulder or back as the hiccups continued to jolt his body roughly even after the coughing fit.

"Those things are kinda owning your ass right now. You okay?" Atticus asked.

Otto nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, they HUCK! they'll go awa--y eventually. H'MUCK!-uh," he said rubbing his chest again. "You--you okay? HOCK! You're not HNK! not over sti-HUCK'NK! stimulated are UCK! are you?"

Atticus chuckled shyly ducking their head as they pushed their mustache up a little from their top lip in both preparation to eat as well as from nervousness.

"No, I--"

"CAAAW!"

"The fuck?!" Atticus exclaimed, that noise definitely not having come from Otto.

Otto startled as well and looked to the side of the table to see a large, black-feathered bird. In the sun the bird's inky black body sheened with purples, greens, and blues.

"HU'OCK!" Otto let slip in his shock.

"CAAAAAW!" said the bird.

Atticus and Otto exchanged wide-eyed looks to each other and back to the bird who was slowly stepping close, head bobbing with each step of its feet.

"What is HUUUCK! happening?" Otto asked, nervousness strengthening his hiccups a little.

"CAAAAW!!" the crow answered excitedly, its head turned a little to inspect the area and the source of the sound.

"I think you're communicating with it?" Atty hazarded a guess which seemed to be confirmed with the next double-hiccup from Otto followed by two caws from the crow.

The picnic became all the more amusing when Atty decided to throw the bird a little ham from one of the sandwiches. The crow gladly took it and within five minutes two more crows had arrived. All three of them chorused Otto when he hiccuped loudly.

The couple couldn't help but laugh. The distraction of the crows' antics was enough to keep Atticus' arousal from overwhelming them and also to ease Otto from feeling like he had to suppress his hiccups in order to not frighten away birds.

Much more ham was dispersed to the growing murder, a thought which still seemed wholly ridiculous despite it being an accurate word to define a collection of crows.

Atticus noticed and questioned why Otto had only eaten the inside of his sandwich, discarding the bread back into the basket.

"Bread makes the-NRK! them worse. They're already HUP!-uh, already kind of hu--URting a little! HOCK! HUCK!" he said.

His crow chorus echoed the hiccups discordantly. He chuckled.

"That is wi--ild!" he said, grinning around his bite of food.

Atticus looked out into the field which was now littered with the black birds.

"What're you gonna do with your new army?" Atticus asked with a grin as they popped a grape in their mouth.

"Well crows are pre-H'ULP! pretty good with tools. HMK! I think I cou--could teach them HMLK! how to wind cl-HUP'K! clocks!" he said.

"Well...I guess that would save you...time," Atticus said with a waggle of their eyebrows.

"Mmm. I see hmp!hmk! I see what you di-hip! did there!" Otto said waggling his finger at them.

"They finally calming down, now?" Atty asked, gesturing toward Otto.

"I thingk! so," he said. He splayed his hand chest and rode out another silent hiccup, chin tucking and shoulders jolting back. He sighed. "Didn't know Flo--Flonase could be s-hup! so dangerous."

"Never use while distracted, apparently," Atticus said.

Otto laughed silently with a shake of is head.

"Appare-hip!-ntly! Sorry about the hup! the other bird," Otto said.

"Are you kidding? This is so much better," Atticus said, grinning. "You, um, you want me to give you a chest and belly massage when we get home?"

The habit was still new, but Otto had warmed up to the physical touch and when they brought it up he smiled.

"Yeah that'd ngk---uh! That'd be nice, actual--ly!" he said.

Atty kissed him on the temple.

"Love you, Crow Mother," Atticus cooed.

This caused Otto and laugh out loud causing a "HUCK'A!" to echo out and a refrain of caws from his admirers.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, kissing Atticus' head in return as another hiccup shook him into their body.

"Me too," they replied and fed him a grape which he took with a smile as they leaned into his chest.

[koyagifs]

𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ʚɞ pairing : jongho x reader ʚɞ au : idol! | 9th member ʚɞ summary : you and jongho celebrate the release of your new song ʚɞ word count: 1.175 words ʚɞ what if! jongho and yn dated

When the news broke about you and Jongho, everyone was caught off guard. Atiny and KQ were in shock, some even rubbing their eyes to make sure they weren’t seeing things. Jongho, the one who was known for being guarded and never giving much away, had somehow kept his relationship with you completely under wraps.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know you two were close—there had been subtle moments, like the way Jongho’s gaze would linger just a little longer on you, or how he’d show up at random events you were at, standing protectively by your side. But no one ever expected an official announcement, least of all from someone as private as him.

The reaction was a mix of disbelief, surprise, and then instant excitement. Atiny immediately flooded social media, expressing how happy they were for you two, though they also jokingly mourned the loss of the Jongho they thought they knew. Fans couldn’t believe that their quiet, almost mysterious bias had managed to pull this off without anyone suspecting a thing.

KQ, meanwhile, couldn’t hide their surprise either. Even the staff was taken aback, knowing how careful Jongho was about keeping his personal life private. The question on everyone’s lips? How did they manage to keep it a secret for so long?

But despite the surprise, there was a sense of warmth. People could see how comfortable Jongho was around you, how the gruff exterior melted just a bit when you were by his side. It was clear that behind the surprise, there was a quiet certainty—that you were the one he wanted.

Once the secret was out, you couldn't help but bask in the newfound freedom to show affection toward Jongho. Whether it was casually holding his hand during a quiet moment or resting your head on his shoulder, you were all over him, and it made everything feel right. The closeness that had been so carefully hidden was finally out in the open, and you didn’t hold back.

Jongho, though usually reserved, couldn’t help but relax when you were around. His usual walls seemed to soften, and it was as if he had finally found his comfort zone. You saw it, of course—how his posture would shift when you sat next to him, the little smiles he would give you when you caught his eye. He let his guard down, especially when he was with you, and his members couldn’t help but notice the change.

It was a rare, peaceful moment between you and Jongho, just the two of you lying in bed together, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. You were resting against his chest, his arm draped around you as you lazily scrolled through your phone, checking up on the latest news. You had been waiting for the drop of your music video, and the anticipation had been building all day.

Finally, the moment came—your music video was live. You could feel the excitement bubbling up inside you. With a quiet giggle, you showed the screen to Jongho, who sat up a little straighter, his eyes lighting up with pride as he looked at the video, his hand still resting on your back.

Before either of you could react further, the door to your room flung open with a burst of energy, and in stormed your bandmates. Their faces lit up with a mix of excitement and pure joy, all of them screaming in unison, "It’s out! It’s out!"

You and Jongho shot up, both startled by the sudden noise. But that was quickly followed by laughter and cheers as your members rushed to surround you, each one throwing their arms around you and congratulating you. Yeosang was already grinning ear to ear, trying to grab your phone to show you their reactions. "It’s trending! You guys look amazing in the video!" he shouted.

Mingi and Wooyoung were practically jumping up and down, practically vibrating with excitement. "I can’t believe you two made such a killer video!" Wooyoung added, looking at you and Jongho, his teasing smile never fading.

San gave you a playful side hug, lifting you off the bed for a moment. "I’m so proud of you guys! This is it. This is the one that’s going to blow up," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hongjoong, never one to show too much outward emotion, was silently smiling, his arms crossed as he watched the excitement unfold. "You both really killed it," he said, his voice soft but filled with pride.

Jongho, despite his usual reserved nature, couldn’t help but chuckle at their reactions, feeling the pride swelling in his chest. You, too, felt the warmth spreading through you as you realized that this moment, your achievement, was being celebrated by the people who knew you best.

You leaned over, brushing your lips against Jongho’s cheek as the room erupted in laughter and congratulations. "We did it," you whispered, your voice full of happiness. Jongho nodded, his hand gently pulling you back toward him, as if savoring the moment.

"Yeah, we did," he replied, his usual gruffness softened by the happiness of the moment.

Jongho's voice was low and husky as he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down your spine. His usual gruff tone was replaced by something softer, something warmer—a tone that always had you melting. "You did so amazing," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, his arm tightening around your waist as he held you close. "I’m so proud of you."

The praises flowed effortlessly from him, making your heart race, your cheeks flush with warmth. You couldn’t help but smile, your eyes meeting his as he pulled back just slightly, his eyes gleaming with something mischievous.

When the door slammed behind the last of the members, Jongho’s smirk grew. There was a certain playfulness in his eyes now, the atmosphere shifting as his voice dropped even lower, turning it into a seductive whisper. "Should I give you your congratulation present?"

His words hung in the air, sending a thrill through you. You felt your pulse quicken, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. You could see that mischievous glint in his eyes, the way his lips curled up slightly, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as he waited for your answer.

The way he looked at you, the confidence he exuded, had your heart racing even faster. "What kind of present do you have in mind?" you asked, your voice soft but playful, not backing down from his challenge.

Jongho’s smirk deepened, his gaze darkening with intent as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear again. "I think you’ll like this one," he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest gently on your waist as he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

And as his kiss deepened, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you—celebrating, lost in the moment of the love and success you shared.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Blanketed

[A sudden change in weather leaves Dew feeling ill.] Below the cut.

It starts with a general feeling of malaise, something Dew could easily blame on the weather; There’s a storm brewing above the abbey, but the dense clouds have yet to burst, leaving the air charged and... 

Heavy.

He feels sluggish, like someone has tied weights to his... everything.

His joints are stiff, and he feels cold.

Colder than he’s felt in a long time, but the others are starting to look at him funny the more blankets he pulls from the basket beside the couch where he’s been sitting practically since he woke up that very morning.

He glares back at them, shivering, ready to snap with the headache building behind his eyes, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up, let alone yell.

Aether finally stands up and presses the back of his hand to his forehead when he goes for a fifth layer, tutting under his breath before asking one of the others to grab the thermometer from the bathroom.

Dew narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t put up a fuss when Cumulus returns and holds it in front of his face.

With a huff, Dew opens his mouth and lets her stick the device under his tongue.

Now, it’s normal for Dew to run a little hot, he is a fire ghoul after all, but from the looks on his friends’ faces when the thermometer beeps, he is, perhaps, a bit too hot even for him.

He doesn’t hear the exact number, too busy tunneling back under the blankets, rolling over to face the back of the couch, but before he can settle in, he feels arms sliding underneath his frame and pulling him up.

He wriggles awkwardly and manages to poke his head free of the blankets, only to make eye contact with Swiss, who’s cradling him against his chest and shoulder.

Dew makes an agitated, croaky noise at him and hisses.

“You stop that.” the multi ghoul chastises, smacking his butt through the blankets, making a dull “thwap” sound, “You need a nap.”

His tail swishes irritably.

“You need a nap.” he mocks, grumbling as Swiss bounces him slightly, trying to get a better grip on his body.

“You’re full of a lot of piss and vinegar for someone who’s basically swaddled up like a big ol’ baby.” Swiss sighs, patting his back.

“I wouldn’t have to be if it weren’t so damned cold in here!” Dew whines, admittedly feeling a bit better now that Swiss is actively soothing him.

“Buddy...”

Dew groans.

“You’re sweating like crazy, you know that, right?” Swiss asks, “It can’t be comfortable being wrapped up like this.”

Dew buries his face in Swiss’ shoulder, mumbling to himself.

“What’s that?”

“I said this is bullshit!” Dew practically shouts in Swiss’ ear, “I’m a fire ghoul! I’m not supposed to get fevers- Call Satan, I wanna have words-”

Swiss snorts.

Fuckin’ snorts!

“It’s not fucking funny!”

Swiss resumes patting his back, “I know, I know, buddy... Just, it happens, people get sick.”

“I-”

“Yes, even you.”

“I don’t want to be sick.” Dew grumbles, “It’s stupid human bullshit.”

“Spoiler alert bubs, your body is a stupid human body.” Swiss says, “You might be an ultra cool ghoul, but your vessel can still get sick.”

Dew groans again, propping his chin up on Swiss’ shoulder, locking eyes with Aether.

“You can fix this shit, right?” he asks, and Aether gives him a small smile, but shakes his head.

“I can ease the symptoms a bit, but if I can’t ‘fix’ being sick, Dew.” Aether explains, “I could make you some soup though? You want some soup?”

Dew considers this for a moment.

“...Can I have those fish crackers with my soup?”

“Of course.”

“...Sick.”

[upon-a-starry-night]

A Perfect Christmas Pt8-The End

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Summary: You're used to doing Christmas activities alone- but there's a certain couple who plan on changing that this year, and maybe you'll all get the Christmas gift you're really hoping for!

Pt1       Pt7

It was 10 PM on Christmas Eve and you had no idea what to do with yourself. You’d had the most fun this year than you’ve ever had during the holidays but you still felt like you wanted to do more. Tomorrow was Christmas and after that was New Years and then the next major holiday to look for was… Valentine's day and you weren’t really looking forward to that one.

So despite it being late and cold you put on your coat and headed to the elevators. You didn’t really know what you wanted to do yet but you’d had a sudden burst of creative energy that you needed to release.

You were slipping on your shoes in the hallway when you heard voices coming your way, you lit up as you recognized who it was

“I think we should tell her tomorrow…” Nat’s voice was heard first, then came Wanda’s

“But how do we do it? I mean-”

The pair stopped when they spotted you, eyes lighting up with curiosity at your attire

“Y/n!”

You smiled at the couple, tugging on the heel of your shoe before standing up fully.

“Hey guys, can’t sleep?” You noticed neither of them had changed into their pajamas yet, which was odd because pajamas were the only thing you guys wore yesterday.

“Something like that,” Nat responded, watching as a few strands of hair fell in front of your eyes. She wanted nothing more than to tuck them behind your ear and kiss you right after. “Are you going somewhere?” The two were curious to know where you planned on going at 10:30 pm on Christmas Eve of all nights

You shrugged your shoulders and began patting your pockets for your scarf, it had been snowing all day which meant it was extra cold outside tonight. “I was probably going to go play in the snow” you spoke as you successfully found and wrapped your scarf around yourself.

You looked between the two as you fished your gloves out of your pocket, after the snowball fight fiasco Wanda had lent you a pair of her gloves, and while you knew you could just ask Tony for a new pair you really didn’t want to.

“Can we join you” You looked up from tugging your glove on in shock, you didn’t really expect anyone to go with you, it was Christmas Eve after all.

Still, you lit up at the idea of your favorite redheads joining you and nodded your head excitedly “of course! It’d be nice to have the company,” The pair smiled “as long as you promise not to beat my ass with snowballs again” You joked, and all three of you giggled at the memory.

“No promises”

–

After Wanda and Nat had put on more layers the three of you went out to find a nice large area of snow, luckily there were lots of parks around and most of the people who would play in the snow were eagerly anticipating Christmas's arrival in their beds.

Dark clouds filled the night sky as you walked, usually, you enjoyed admiring the stars but snow and rain clouds were the exceptions to your stargazing habits.

You spotted a large patch of snow up ahead and ran towards it, carefully laying yourself back into a patch of untouched snow. You giggled as Wanda and Nat approached you, feeling giddy just at their presence.

You began moving your arms up and down and your legs open and closed as you formed what you were sure was going to be the best snow angel ever created.

Natasha and Wanda watched on with fondness in their eyes, there was no doubt about it, they had to make you theirs.

You got up as carefully as you could, trying not to ruin your design and when you stood up Wanda giggled at the amount of snow in your hair. You turned to give her a questioning glance but she just waved you off with a smile.

As you observed your angel you realized you must have ruined the bottom part when you got up so you walked to a new patch of untouched snow and lay yourself down once again. This time Wanda and Nat lay down next to you in the snow, leaving enough space for each of you to form your snow angels.

As you made the wings of your angel with your arms you felt your fingers brushing against both of theirs on either side of you. Despite the cold, you felt your face getting warm at the contact.

You started laughing once again in the snow and this time Nat and Wanda couldn’t help but join you.

You felt your whole body brimming with joy at this moment you were all sharing, you wished you could freeze time so you could stay in this moment forever.

Nat was the first to get up, and you could feel the cold beginning to seep into your coat but as you went to get up Wanda stopped you. Nat helped her up and Wanda began swirling her hands as you realized what she was doing. You let the familiar feeling of her magic envelope you as you lifted off of the ground. After all, everyone knows the best way to not smudge a snow angel is to lift yourself directly off of the ground into the air.

Wanda brought you over to them and carefully set you down as you all observed the snow angels, after careful consideration you all agreed Nat’s was the best.

As you were looking at the angels a thought came to mind, “we should make them a friend” you concluded

“As in another snow angel?” Nat questioned, looking over to the first snow angel you attempted

“No…” you looked around for the perfect spot for your ‘friend’ “we should build a snowman”

Natasha snorted “okay Anna”

You grinned “I take that as a compliment”

Wanda smirked as she dusted some snow off of your coat “nobody said it wasn’t”

You bounded over to the spot you selected for your snow friend and began forming a small snowball in your hands, without saying a word Wanda and Nat each began making their own snowballs. You were building the body while Nat built the torse and Wanda built the head.

All three of you were rolling your snow around until you had to pick it up and roll it in another area so that you didn’t take all of the snow from around where your snow person would sit.

After a while of rolling, you realized you might have rolled it too heavy to carry, but that problem was easily remedied but Wanda’s wiggly-woo’s.

Since yours was the biggest you’d finished last and by the time Wanda placed the body down you were able to assemble the snowman.

While you were rolling around your ball Wand and Nat had found some sticks and rocks to give the snow friend eyes and limbs.

You all assembled the snowman together and you, of course, made a joke about ‘Assembling’ and Nat swatted you on the shoulder for it.

All three of you stood back to admire the snowman, you had to admit it was one of the best ones you’d ever made.

“If this snowman could talk what do you think it would say?” Wanda inquired

“hmm… ‘oh my gosh it’s the two coolest Avengers in the world!’ ” you guessed, referring to the two Avengers you were currently with

“Well yeah but what about Wanda-oof” You knocked shoulders with a laughing Nat as Wanda playfully shoved her over, already used to Nat’s teasing.

“I think it’d ask to be your girlfriend” You and Natasha both looked over at Wanda who was staring at the snowman with a warm smile

You laughed a little pained, wrapping your arms around yourself “I think this snowman is too good for me” you tried to joke, instead, you got two Avengers looking at you with upset expressions

“How could anyone be too good for you?”

You stared at the snowman and refused to look into their eyes.

“Y/n,” Nat started, turning her body to fully face you “You don’t really believe that do you? That everyone is too good for you?”

You sharply inhaled, squeezing your arms tighter around yourself

“Y/n,” Wanda moved to stand directly in front of you next to Nat, she tried to catch your eyes but you just stared at your shoes “Look at me моя любовь” You looked up at the nickname, the other day you got the chance to ask Bucky what it meant and he blushed and asked you if Wanda or Nat were calling you that, to which you responded yes and he told you it was better if they told you.

“Nobody is too good for you Y/n, you’re the epitome of kindness”

They were too good for you, you thought, and Wanda flinched

“No.” You furrowed your eyebrows “No, we’re not too good for you, you’re too good for us”

Your heart started pounding, what were they saying? You needed answers

“What does моя любовь mean?” they laughed a bit at your pronunciation but Wanda began turning red

“It means..” she seemed hesitant “it means My Love”

The world went quiet. You couldn’t believe your ears, all this time Wanda had been calling you her love? They both had?

You searched their eyes for an answer and found exactly what you were looking for in the way they were both looking at you.

You felt tears at the corners of your eyes, another cold sensation hit your face and you looked up to see it snowing. Talk about perfect timing.

“You’re too good for us Y/n-” Nat expressed

“No,” you cut her off with a watery laugh “No I think we’re just right for each other”

It was a leap of faith but you had confidence now that they felt the same way you did.

Nat’s watch chimed and she looked down at it before looking up at you and smiling

“Merry Christmas Y/n” She closed the distance between the two of you, pressing her lips softly against yours as one hand came up to cup your jaw. She deepened the kiss a little bit before pulling away panting lightly, you barely had time to recover before Wanda’s lips were on yours, delicately pressed against you she held your face in her hands as she kissed you. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you were kissed by the loves of your life and the snow fell gracefully around all of you.

You pulled away and you all started at each other before you let out another watery laugh

“What’s funny?” Nat challenged

You smiled warmly at her, shaking your head lightly “it’s nothing, it’s just… I love you guys”

Both of them beamed at you “we love you too” they admit.

The three of you huddled together in each other's arms and watched the Christmas snowfall, and you thought to yourself, maybe you could look forward to Valentine’s day next year.

(моя любовь- my love)

Masterlist

That’s the end! Feel free to tell me what you thought about it! I had the best time writing it <3

[kisses-for-you]

Sacrifice - Conner Kent

Conner Kent X GN!Reader

Summary: You and Conner don't really like each other. But when you make a sacrifice to save Conner, you both realise your true feelings.

Word Count: 1,580

⚠️ Warnings: Death.

You and Conner never really liked each other. It's like ever since he joined the team, you just hated him for no apparent reason. You didn't know why and neither did he. Maybe it's because you felt a certain type of attraction to him? No. That can't be it. Don't be ridiculous.

The tension between you and Conner was palpable. Anyone could see it. But despite the clashes and disagreements, there were moments when you caught each other's eyes, stealing glances across the room. In those moments, there was something unspoken, a subtle shift in the air. It was as if beneath the layers of animosity, a flicker of curiosity lingered.

One day, during a particularly intense mission, you and the team find yourselves facing an unexpected threat. Mother May has used her magic to stun everyone including Conner, except for you, which meant it was just you and her. Bad news for you, you don't have any magical powers, so what now? How are you meant to fight a witch with just your combat skills? That doesn't seem like it's going to work out great for you.

Feeling the weight of the situation, panic sets in as you assess the limited options. Your heart pounds in your chest and your palms start sweating. Mother May advances towards you with a wicked grin, revelling in her advantage. Without hesitation, you throw yourself between Mother May and Conner, shielding him from any possible danger.

She starts to speak but you interrupt Mother May, steeling yourself for whatever consequences may follow. "If you want to get to any of them, you'll have to go through me first," you declare, surprising even yourself with the conviction in your voice.

The empty road becomes charged with tension as Mother May assesses the situation. Conner, still under the effects of her magic, watches the unfolding scene with a mixture of confusion and concern. Despite your 'dislike' for him, you were still protecting him. Why?

Mother May smirks, confident in her powers. "You can't protect them forever, and trust me, your death won't change anything," she taunts.

Not letting her see the fear that is currently coursing through your veins, you respond, "Maybe I can't change anything, but I can't just stand by and let them get hurt either. At least I'll die knowing I did my best to protect my team."

Conner's gaze shifts from Mother May to you, a mix of surprise and realization crossing his face. He doesn't want you to die, especially not like this. But he can't do anything. Her powers have him and everyone stunned, stuck in place.

"You're brave, I'll give you that. It's a shame this is the way you have to go down," she scoffs, raising her hand to unleash a magical assault. As the energy builds, you brace yourself, fully aware that this might be the end. Yet, strangely, you feel a sense of peace knowing you're protecting the team, even Conner.

Just as Mother May releases the magical force, a sudden burst of red streaks across the scene. The force of her magic sends you flying backwards, directly into a wall. A sickening crack echoes through the air as your back collides with the wall.

Everything goes black. Surely, you should be able to feel something. Some sort of pain. You've most likely just broken something from the force of the hit but you can't feel a thing. You can't see anything either, nor can you hear anything. No fucking way. Is this it? Did the bitch really just kill you? That easily as well? What about the rest of the team?

Everyone winces at the sound of your back making contact with the wall. They know what's probably just happened but none of them want to believe it. You can't be dead.

As the darkness envelops you, one distant voice echoes in your mind - Conner's voice. "No, this can't be happening," he mutters, breaking free from Mother May's spell, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of you crumpled against the wall.

Before anyone can attack Mother May, she vanishes into thin air. Now you're dead and your murderer is nowhere to be seen.

The team, released from the magical hold, rushes to your side. Conner, fueled by a surge of emotions he didn't quite understand, kneels beside you. "Hey, come on, wake up," he pleads, his usually stoic demeanour towards you now replaced by genuine concern.

His voice slowly fades away as your hearing once again disappears. This time, it doesn't come back. This is really it. You're gone.

People say that when you die, you get to rewatch your entire life from birth to death. But for you, it's just pitch black, a neverending darkness. You didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone. You didn't get to tell Gar about how much you actually love hearing his stupid jokes. You didn't get to tell Kory about how much of an impact she's made on you and the rest of the team. You didn't get to tell Conner about how you don't actually hate him. You didn't get to tell him about how you used that hate as a disguise for your true feelings. You've realised you love him but it's too late now. You're dead.

Conner, kneeling beside your lifeless body, is overwhelmed by a mix of grief and guilt. The team gathers around, grappling with the reality of losing one of their own. Conner finds himself unable to comprehend the weight of your sacrifice.

Amid the chaos, he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, a gesture that feels more tender than he ever expected. "I didn't... I didn't get to tell her how much I loved her," he stammers, his voice betraying a vulnerability you'd never witnessed before. He finally admitted the truth and you aren't even here to hear it.

In the following days, guilt gnaws at Conner. He feels somehow responsible for your death. Maybe if he'd been stronger, faster, he could've saved you. But he didn't and that kills him inside.

One night, Conner stands alone on the rooftop, staring at the city below. The realization hits him hard - he never got to express his true feelings to you. The words he kept buried, hidden behind a façade of dislike, start to haunt him slightly.

"I wish I could've told you," Conner whispers to the night sky, a silent confession to the empty air.

"Told me what?" you ask, your voice startling Conner. He turns around and his eyes widen in shock.

He stammers, "Y/N? But.. you're dead. How? Is my mind just playing tricks on me?"

"No. I'm very much alive. Trust me, I don't get it either. I died, or at least I was sure I had. Something somehow brought me back. But I don't know what," you say, standing there with a mixture of confusion and relief. You're glad to be back but you still shouldn't be here. How was this possible?

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching your face for any sign of deception. "If this is some kind of sick prank, it's not funny."

You take a step closer to him, closing the distance between you guys. Wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug, you respond, "Is this enough to prove I'm really here?"

Conner, caught off guard, hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, wrapping his strong arms tightly around your waist. As he holds you, a mixture of relief and confusion also washes over him.

"I thought I lost you," Conner admits, his voice a blend of vulnerability and sincerity. The realization that you're standing in front of him, alive and well, hits him and he hugs you the slightest bit tighter.

Conner, still processing the whirlwind of emotions, starts to speak again. "I never got the chance to tell you something," he pauses but continues, "Y/N, I never hated you. I just pretended I did because I thought that it was easier than admitting my feelings for you. But I realise now that it was a really stupid choice. I should've just been straight up with you. You dying made me realise how much I regretted not telling you. So now, I'm telling you because I'm too scared that something like this might happen again in the future and I can't go through this again. The regret and the guilt are too much. Even for me."

You pull away slightly, looking into his eyes. A small blush forms on your face as you realise he reciprocates your feelings. The corners of your lips curve upwards as you respond, "When I died, Conner, I regretted not telling you that I loved you so much. So, I'm going to tell you the truth now. Conner, I'm in love with you and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess it took me literally dying to realise how I actually felt."

Conner flashes you a smile, a smile of relief and happiness. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get a word out, you cut him off, your lips crashing against his own in a kiss full of passion and emotion.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek as you slowly pull away. The warmth of his touch reassures you that this moment is real. "God, I love you so much, Y/N."

[gcthvile]

Zara Khan

Name: Zara Khan

Age: 25

Powers: Illusion casting, invisibility, minor reality warping.

Height: 6'0

Sexuality: Bisexual

Early Life

Zara Khan grew up in the heart of a bustling city, where the streets echoed with the sounds of life and the air buzzed with excitement. Her parents, a watchmaker dad and a schoolteacher mom, weren't exactly rolling in cash, but they made sure Zara's childhood was filled with love and encouragement.

From the time she was old enough to reach the kitchen table, Zara was drawn to magic like a magnet. She'd spend hours practicing card tricks and sleight of hand, much to the amusement of her parents. They figured it was just a harmless hobby, a way for their daughter to flex her creative muscles.

But for Zara, magic wasn't just a pastime – it was a passion. She devoured books on the subject, soaking up every trick and technique like a sponge. And when she wasn't reading, she was practicing, perfecting her skills with the dedication of a pro.

Her parents might not have understood her obsession, but they supported it all the same. They cheered her on from the sidelines, proud of their daughter's determination and drive.

The Mysterious Encounter

One ordinary afternoon, Zara found herself wandering the narrow aisles of a local antique shop, her curiosity piqued by the treasures tucked away in every nook and cranny. Among the dusty relics and tarnished trinkets, her eyes fell upon a peculiar find – a small, intricately carved box nestled on a shelf, its surface adorned with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Drawn to the box like a moth to flame, Zara reached out to touch it, feeling a faint hum of energy beneath her fingertips. The shop owner, an eccentric old man with a twinkle in his eye, noticed her interest and sidled over with a knowing smile.

"Ah, you've got an eye for the unusual, I see," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "That there's no ordinary box, miss. It's said to hold great power – ancient, mystical energy that's been dormant for centuries."

Zara raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet skeptical. She'd always been a rational thinker, grounded in the realm of logic and reason. But there was something about the box, something that tugged at her instincts and whispered of untold possibilities.

Unable to resist the allure of the artifact, Zara exchanged a handful of coins for the box and hurried home, her mind buzzing with anticipation. That night, as she sat in her dimly lit apartment, she turned the box over in her hands, marveling at its craftsmanship.

And then, in a sudden burst of brilliance, the box began to glow, bathing the room in a surreal, ethereal light. Zara's heart raced as she felt a surge of energy course through her, igniting every nerve in her body.

In that moment, she knew – she had been chosen. Chosen to wield the power of the ancients, to unlock abilities beyond the realm of mortal understanding.

The next morning, Zara awoke to find herself changed. She could cast illusions so vivid they seemed to leap from her fingertips, bend light and shadow to her will, and vanish from sight with a mere thought. And with each passing day, she discovered new facets of her newfound powers, each one more wondrous and awe-inspiring than the last.

Embracing Her Powers

At first, the rush of power was overwhelming. Zara felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss of her own potential. But she wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and dove headfirst into the unknown.

With her background in stage magic as her guide, Zara found herself in familiar territory. She realized that her years spent perfecting card tricks and sleight of hand had laid the foundation for mastering her newfound abilities. And so, she embraced her powers with a sense of determination and purpose.

Under the guise of her stage persona, "Mirage" she began to weave her magic into her performances, seamlessly blending illusion with reality in a dazzling display of showmanship. Audiences marveled at her feats, unaware that the magic they witnessed was anything but smoke and mirrors.

But behind the curtain, Zara was hard at work, honing her skills in secret. In the quiet solitude of her apartment, she practiced tirelessly, pushing herself to the limits of her abilities and beyond. She experimented with illusion casting, manipulating light and shadow with a finesse that bordered on the supernatural. And with each performance, she grew more confident, more in control of the power coursing through her veins.

It wasn't long before Zara realized that her powers were more than just a means of entertainment – they were a tool, a weapon to be wielded in the fight against injustice and corruption. And so, she made a vow to herself – to use her abilities for the greater good, to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.

With a flick of her wrist and a flash of her piercing green eyes, Zara stepped out of the shadows and into the spotlight, ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead. For she knew that with great power came great responsibility – and she was more than ready to embrace it.

A New Purpose

With her newfound powers came a profound sense of responsibility that weighed heavily on Zara's shoulders. She couldn't ignore the injustices festering in the shadows of her city any longer. It was time to take a stand.

Embracing a persona that blended her theatrical flair with her mystical abilities, Zara stepped out into the night as a vigilante with a purpose. She moved swiftly and silently, a shadow in the darkness, her every move calculated to strike fear into the hearts of the corrupt.

Her first major victory came when she set her sights on a notorious crime syndicate that had been terrorizing the city for far too long. Armed with determination and a fierce resolve, Zara infiltrated their ranks, her invisibility cloaking her movements as she slipped past their defenses undetected.

Inside their hideout, she gathered evidence – documents, recordings, anything that could incriminate those responsible for the suffering she had witnessed. But she knew that evidence alone wouldn't be enough to bring them to justice. She needed to create chaos, to sow confusion and discord among their ranks.

And so, drawing upon her mastery of illusion casting, Zara unleashed a torrent of magic unlike anything the syndicate had ever seen. She twisted reality itself, conjuring phantoms and specters that danced and flickered in the dim light, driving the criminals to the brink of madness.

In the chaos that ensued, law enforcement moved in, their presence heralded by the blare of sirens and the flash of blue lights. The syndicate, caught off guard and disoriented by Zara's illusions, stood no chance against the might of the law.

As the dust settled and the criminals were led away in handcuffs, Zara knew that she had found her calling. She was more than just a magician – she was a symbol of hope in a city plagued by darkness, a beacon of light in a world shrouded in shadow.

Family ties

Zara and Kamala Khan have a relationship that's both supportive and inspiring. As cousins, they share a familial bond that goes beyond their superhero duties, making their connection both personal and profound.

Growing up, Zara was always the older, cooler cousin who dazzled Kamala with her magic tricks and confident stage presence. Kamala, with her wide-eyed enthusiasm and love for superheroes, found in Zara a role model she could admire and aspire to be like.

When Kamala discovered her own powers and stepped into the role of Ms. Marvel, Zara was one of the first people she turned to. Zara's experience and wisdom, both as a performer and later as a crime-fighting illusionist, provided Kamala with invaluable guidance. Zara offered practical advice on balancing a double life, staying true to oneself, and using their powers responsibly.

Despite their different abilities, the two often share tips and tricks. Kamala's shape-shifting and embiggening powers are complemented by Zara's mastery of illusion and reality manipulation. They brainstorm together, swapping ideas on how to creatively solve problems or outsmart their enemies. This collaboration strengthens their bond and makes them a formidable team when they join forces.

On a more personal level, Zara and Kamala share a deep sense of family and cultural heritage. They enjoy simple moments together, like chatting over tea, sharing family stories, or attending community events. These moments keep them grounded and connected to their roots, reminding them of the values they both hold dear.

Kamala looks up to Zara for her unwavering moral compass and dedication to justice, while Zara admires Kamala's optimism and determination. Their relationship is a blend of mentorship, friendship, and mutual respect, providing both with a strong support system. They inspire each other to be better heroes and better people, knowing that, no matter what challenges they face, they can always rely on each other.

Personality

Zara Khan is a force to be reckoned with – fiercely intelligent, quick-witted, and possessing a moral compass that always points true north. Her experiences as a performer have shaped her into a confident and charismatic individual, capable of charming her way out of any situation with a smile and a flick of her wrist.

But beneath her charming facade lies a deep well of empathy and compassion. Zara has seen the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men, and it fuels her desire to protect the innocent and bring justice to those who would seek to harm them. She fights not for glory or recognition, but out of a sense of duty – a duty to use her gifts for the betterment of society and the protection of those who cannot protect themselves.

Zara's background as a stage magician gives her a unique approach to her crime-fighting endeavors. She relies on misdirection, strategy, and psychological insight to defeat her enemies, often leaving them bewildered and outmaneuvered before they even realize what's happening. To her, every battle is a performance, and she plays the role of the hero with gusto, using every trick in her arsenal to ensure that justice is served.

But behind her confident exterior lies a woman haunted by the weight of her responsibilities. She knows that the path she has chosen is fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she faces each challenge with unwavering resolve and a determination to see justice done. For Zara Khan, the fight against crime and corruption is not just a job – it's a calling, a purpose that burns bright within her heart and drives her ever onward in the pursuit of justice.

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hope you like her! 🤓

@missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @gaminggirlsstuff

[iheart-nana]

xvii. bandaids don't fix bullet holes

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ─ bandaids don't fix bullet holes.

❛ who do i have to speak to about if they can change the prophecy?❜

Choi Yumi's Perspective

Meow!

The moment the shrill sound reached my ears, I looked around frantically to see where it was coming from. I hadn't seen the kitten in a few days; Now that I think about it, the last time I saw her was when Taesung was petting it. I advanced towards the bushes behind the bus stop near the music club. There it was, a tiny ball of grey fur hidden in the overgrown green shrubbery. 

I crouched down slowly and cautiously, taking a deep breath. Every instinct in me screamed to scoop up the fragile creature, but Taesung's advice echoed in my head. Blinking slowly, mimicking the cat's lazy blinks, I extended my hand, palm down. The kitten, all matted fur and wide, wary eyes, remained frozen. A pang of disappointment squeezed my heart. Maybe Taesung's advice only worked for him.

Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, a tiny pink tongue darted out, giving my fingers a tentative lick. A delighted gasp escaped my lips. The tension in the kitten's body seemed to ease, and it nudged its head against my palm, purring like a little engine. A warmth bloomed in my chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

The little kitten's gestures, its soft blinking and mouth that seemed to smile, all resembled Taesung. It was as if I could see his face in front of me, unserious as ever. 

"You know, you look exactly like him," I whispered to the kitten, who was merely a clueless furball purring against the palm of my hand.

Choi Eunyoung's Perspective

It was a regular summer afternoon─ except it wasn't. The bright light from the blazing sun entered my room through the gaps of my curtain. The humidity in the air pressed upon me like a burden I had been carrying for many years. My lunch seemed to have started dancing in my stomach, making me drowsier; But there was a different something that kept me alert. My school books lay open on the desk in front of me as I sat in my spinning chair, my head leaning against the backrest. I fidgeted with the pencil in my heart.

Today wasn't just any ordinary day, it was the day of Sunjae's surgery. My left leg shook like a 4.0 magnitude earthquake, occasionally hitting the underside of my study table, sending a shooting pain through my body. My eyes fixed on the window in front of me─ Sunjae's bedroom window. I had often caught glances of him moving around his room, going about his life. The events of last week flashed before me. 

The sharp sound of his father's palm against Sunjae's face still echoed in my mind. The sound of Sunjae's frantic footsteps against the pavement coming to a sudden halt when I stopped him; Our quiet sobs as we clung onto each other, and the space between us was too clear in my head. I could practically see it unfold in front of my eyes.

A single tear traced a cool path down my cheek, a stark contrast to the prickling heat that had bloomed on my face. I reached up to wipe it away, the sterile silence of the apartment pressing down on me. But the quiet couldn't contain the storm brewing inside. My body seemed to act on autopilot, a stark contrast to the sluggish crawl of time earlier. I bolted from my chair, a desperate energy coursing through me.

"Mom! I'm going out for some time!" I yelled, the words tumbling out in a rush. The nail salon door clattered shut behind a customer as I raced down the stairs, not bothering to lace up my shoes. My mom's reply, if there was one, was lost in the pounding of my own heart. 

Everything seemed to happen so fast. Jumping into a taxi, I blurted out the name of the hospital, feeling a desperate need to be near Sunjae. Was he okay? Had the surgery gone well? I had to know. My hands reached for my skirt pocket, as a sigh of relief escaped my mouth knowing that my wallet was still there.

Bursting through the automatic doors, I skidded to a halt, chest heaving. The sterile smell of disinfectant stung my nostrils, a harsh counterpoint to the frantic questions bubbling up my throat. But before I could voice any of them, a sliver of conversation snagged my attention, pulling me towards a curtained-off area.

"...extensive damage," a doctor's voice, grave and laced with sympathy, drifted through a door left ajar. "The surgery went well, but the nerves... I'm afraid competitive swimming is out of the question."

My heart, as if it was made of glass, shattered into a million pieces scattered across the hospital floor. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the sterile white walls morphing into a dizzying maze. Sunjae wouldn't be able to swim? The very foundation of his dreams, his passion, shattered? A strangled sob escaped my lips, the sound harsh and alien in the sterile silence. My hand flew to my mouth, muffling the sound, but the damage was done.

As I sat on the metal benches outside the room where Sunjae was, the contact of my legs against the metal was almost as cold as the reality that had been shoved in my face a few moments ago. All my feelings of self-loathing and self-doubt had become a mush in my chest as my muffled sobs echoed against the pale white hospital walls. The sitting area was almost devoid of people. The occasional nurses and doctors passing by paid no attention to the breakdown I was having.

After all, the sight of someone crying in a hospital is not an uncommon thing.

Narrator's Perspective

Sunjae emerged from the operation room, the syringe poking through his hand was a painful reminder of the doctor's words. His heart ached for the ruins of his future career, reduced to dust. He leaned against a wall, heaving a deep sigh as he felt a lump in his throat as he felt the tears forming in his eyes. Just then, the sound of muffled sobbing reached his ears before his tears could spill out. He thought he was hearing things,  but this presumption was quickly disproved as he peeked into the waiting area.

A girl sitting in solitude on the metal benches─ Eunyoung. Sunjaes heart seemed to stop at the sight. She leaned forward, her head buried in her hands as her sobs echoed through the empty hospital halls. This seemed to send a shooting pain through Sunjae. She was crying because of him, he thought to himself.

Sunjae had never felt more pathetic as he watched her from a distance, not daring to take a single step forward. 

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

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nayoung's notes: i cried while writing this btw.

delphi's notes: i think i'm emotionally attached to this cat. (the other one too)

next chapter: saturday (out now!) list of chapters here!