#one day i will write a proper one shot about what happened

[another-random-paradise]

Hello! Hope you are doing well :3

Could you do a reader x Slick? The reader races with Rusty the first attempt of the race and gets seriously injured due to Slick’s actions? Slick didn’t intend such an injury, only attempting to keep Rusty from racing. Some hurt/comfort as she tries to make things better and help take care of the injured reader, please!

Whatever it takes

Hi!! I had lots of fun writing this; it’s been a while since I wrote a proper fic :p hope you enjoy!!

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Slick accidentally severely injures Reader during the race, she didn’t intend for this.

Character: Slick

Format: One shot (1232 words)

Warnings: Mentions of crashing, injuries, and the hospital (referred to as a repairs shed since they’re trains)

Slick was surprised, to say the least, when she heard that Rusty already had a Race partner. It put a small dent in her plan, having planned to race with him and slam the brakes, but she managed. She hadn't bothered to find out who Rusty's Race partner is, instead focusing on coming up with a plan.

On the day of the race, she stood proud in the audience; everything was set up perfectly, oil on the Track Rusty planned to take, Electra and Greaseball had been informed where to stay clear, and both had already paid half up-front. Now she just needed to sit back and enjoy the action!...That was, until she saw who rolled up to the start line alongside Rusty. Panic crept in as she watched you get into starting position, this was not part of the plan, you were not meant to be anywhere near the tracks! 

She racks her brain in an attempt to find a way to stop this, but the oil is already spilled, and if she told the marshals she'd need an explanation as to how she knows - not to mention Greaseballs and Electras fury if she does. She barely registers the starting signal and the corresponding cheers around her, as she stands there with her face in her hands, trying not to let her panic show.

Rusty was known to be awfully kind, he'd probably uncouple you the moment he feels himself slip, and you'd be save. That is what she tells herself over and over as she watches the race, but she can't know that for sure, she could only pray to the starlight and watch.

It wasn't long till the moment came; Rusty took a turn on what he believed to be short cut, only to be met with unstable ground, making him loose his footing faster than he can react. Just as Slick had hoped, he uncoupled you as soon as he realised what was happening, but by then it was already too late. 

You two had been going faster than either of you was used to, and with the added oil, you weren't able to balance yourself in time. Slick could only watch as you fell of the Track onto the harsh ground a few meters below, Rusty following suit just shortly after . She wanted nothing more than to look away, to close her eyes and pretend that this was just a bad dream; but it seems her body doesn't want to listen, instead standing there as if frozen, as she watched the the crash displayed on the screen in front of her. Only after she watched you be brought away by the on-site repair trucks could she move again.

She pushed through the crowds of people, all who seemed to be talking  about the crash. She didn't bother to look where she was going, or who she was running into, just focused on making a beeline towards the repairs shed.

And here she is now, pacing in the waiting room as she had for at least an hour now. The repair trucks and anyone else working there must hate her by now, as she just kept asking them how you are over and over, not to mention her rambling away about her worries to anyone that would listen. It's unusual for the freight, known to be laid back, if not straight up mean at times, and most importantly: she was not usually one to talk about personal things, especially not feelings, and especially not to total strangers.

the cycle continues, until one of the doctors finally tells her that she can come see you now. She rushes into your assigned room faster than the engines cross the finish line, a chorus of sighs of reliefs follow behind her, from the exhausted staff who had to deal with her until now.

A wave of relief washes over her when she sees you, awake in your assigned bed. Though the feeling of relief is gone just as fast as it came, being replaced by the same guilt she felt when she watched the crash. You're wrapped in bandages, and hooked up to some of the machines. And it's her fault. 

She just stood there for a moment. All that pacing around, but now that she was actually confronted with you, all movement seemed impossible. Only after you weakly smile at her does she slowly approach you and sit down next to you.

She wanted to say something, anything, but she didn't know where to start. In the end, you beat her to it. "I know you caused the crash, Rusty told me." She froze, the, by now familiar, panic setting in again; do you hate her? she couldn't blame you if you did, but the thought still stung. "I just want to know why." The tone of your voice nearly killed her. You sounded sad and almost betrayed, rather than angry or enraged. How in Starlights name was she going to explain that?

She might as well say it as is, you were going to find out sooner than later anyways. "...It wasn't meant to get this out of hand, it was just meant to discourage Rusty from racing." She looked at the ground next to the bed, unable to look you in the eye, but she knew that didn't explain why she did it. "I was offered a lot of money, and the freight part of the yard has been getting budget cuts, and I-" The tanker was stumbling over her words, she had never been good at this kind of thing. She took a deep breath before continuing, "neither of you were meant to get hurt that badly, especially not you." 

If she could disappear, she would. She could only imagine what you must think of her - "I don't forgive you." - and that confirmed her worries. you didn't forgive her, why would you? She let her head drop. She was about to get up and give you the space you deserve, when you continued; "but i also don't hate you." 

What? She had to be dreaming, or maybe maybe she misheard you? It was clear you knew what she was thinking, though she didn't exactly attempt to hide it as she looked at you in shock. "I don't forgive you, but i also don't hate you," you repeated. "I don't fully understand it, and never will, but you had your reasons. But you have a lot to make up for. Both to me and to Rusty."

It took her a moment to truly comprehend what you said, nodding along as you talk. She could feel a small smile creeping onto her face alongside tears. She doesn't even remember the last time she cried, but so much had happened in such a short, it was nothing if not overwhelming. "whatever it takes." A promise that she planned to keep.

And she did. She, begrudgingly apologised to Rusty, under your watch to make sure she wasn't mean about, and then barely left your side during your recovery. You needed something? she was on it. Felt stiff? she may not be good at massages, but she was sure as hell going to try! i believe you can see where this is going - she planned to keep her promise and do whatever it takes to make it up to you. She got far to close to loosing you.

Thanks again for the request!! Hope my proper writing skills weren’t too rusty :p

Feedback is welcome, just be nice pls!

Have a nice day/night <33

[yoshiintheweb]

yoshi yoshi yoshi i know i am late but Please i need a wolf Joel. or woth Joel. Joel of any kind in these desperate times

The Cursing || Wonders of The Hills

Accompanying (almost) Double Drabble under the cut.

The Great Fire of Village

He left the Village in flames. Chaos and screams of terror as the lives were burning before one's eyes were a perfect distraction. In the panic and rush of the fight with an element, anyone rarely paid attention to the actions of one Man. It was all he needed. Only one bag was putting weight onto his shoulder. With his loyal dog by his side he stood in the forest. It was chilling and empty. All sounds swollen by the cracking and yelling carried by the wind. A dead forest, on the day of his death. An only fitting farewell. 

Unknowingly for him, a Knight in armor black as obsidian and cape red as blood followed his trail. No good deed ever happened to those who desert the army of The Red King, and the Man wasn’t just a common knight either. Once an ally now looking with hostility he pursued the chase. The confrontation that followed was heated yet left both of them unharmed. The Man fleeing into the dark forest. The Knight turned back, bolting to help the villagers and to report the encounter to his beloved liege. 

Even if unharmed that night, the Man soon taste the wrath of the overruler of this land, as a curse was placed on his mortal spirit. One so cruel for a man who weeped for freedom, as his own body became a prison, as a Man changed into a Beast.

[jpg-of-dorian-slay]

literally never been to a laundromat in my life and yet i’m having strong feelings about laundromats?

[jinxs-gf]

The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

[mysumeow]

︵ ☆ [commission] trapped within the dream

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, smidge of biting kink, unprotected piv. ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Lilia's no stranger to downplaying his pain. You won't allow it to go on for long. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 2.6k ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: My first commission!? OMG. I didn't realize how much I itched to write yet another one-shot with a part in which reader takes care of peepaw T_T Poor old man. Yana, let him rest! | ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ . . . TWST MASTERLIST

The smudge of blood across his cheek, his heaved breaths despite the effort to keep an upright posture, the weariness present in his eyes…No matter how hard Lilia forced himself to play off his exhaustion and pain, the toll the dream had taken on his body was distinct. You couldn’t imagine how replaying, in vivid detail, the treacherous path he had to walk to hatch Malleus’s egg and the biting words of The Senate made him feel.

It took every ounce of effort to not run to him and give him a hug the moment he regained consciousness in his dream. Despite this being nothing more than some sort of dreamscape caused by Malleus’s magic, the experiences you went through felt real. The life-or-death situations, your meeting with the imposing Maleanor, coming face to face with a stage of Lilia’s life that was fierce yet vulnerable at the same time; it was more than a dream holding you captive.

Thus, the reason your grip on Silver’s hand faltered when Lilia insisted on you escaping without him. He’d be trapped within this spiteful phase of his timeline. Lilia could pretend, all he wanted, that this didn’t affect him—or that he had come to terms with it—you couldn’t find it in you the will to desert him.

Silver held your hand. It was time to go.

“To the person I met someday, to the person I will meet one day,” he chanted his unique magic, and you came to terms that, if you wanted to stay with Lilia, this was your cue to decide.

This was a rash decision. It didn’t, however, stop you from listening to your gut feeling.

Before he could finish the last sentence, you jerked your hand from his, your heart thrumming in your ears as you did. In a split second, you glimpsed your classmate’s panic upon realizing what had happened.

“Prefect!” Silver outstretched his hand in your direction.

It was futile. The Corridor of Dreams had dragged them inside of it.

You and Lilia looked at each other with varying degrees of bewilderment.

Malleus’s distant whisper of Lilia’s name was enough to force you out of that trance. Proper for a general, he reacted fast to stop the situation from escalating again. Words weren’t necessary to understand that it was time to flee the scene. His hand encountered your frigid one and dragged you with him.

Years of training made it easy for Lilia to dart from danger, regardless of his short stature. On your end, it was a challenge to keep up with his swiftness, diving into the complicated twists and turns of a capital you weren’t familiar with.

At some point, you stopped running. You rested your hands on the brick wall as you caught your breath, sweat dropping from your temple. In the meantime, Lilia looked for something, ignoring the obvious strain on his body.

“I don’t sense Malleus’s magic anymore,” Lilia said, panting. “I think he’s trying to figure out where Silver headed to.”

“Are we going to be okay?”

“We should be.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Prefect, what was that about?”

No amount of beating around the bush would save you from this one. You had to acknowledge your reckless decision.

“I’m sorry, Lilia, but after seeing everything that unfolded before my eyes, I just—” Your throat was dry, the weight of the situation heavy on your heart. “I couldn’t abandon you.”

He blinked twice, processing what you admitted.

“Oh, dear. You put yourself at risk for lil’ old me? If I hadn’t been certain I could handle this on my own, I wouldn’t have urged you to bolt out of this dream.”

Anger didn’t bubble up inside Lilia at your confession. How could he? Guilt did claw its way in. He was your senior; of course he would prioritize your safety.

“We witnessed those countless days you spent pursuing a way to hatch Malleus’s egg and how none of that mattered to The Senate.” It was impossible for you to not mutter their name between gritted teeth. “Seeing them berate you and treat you like you were nothing other than mud beneath their shoes…It was infuriating.”

Lilia wiped the tears that welled in your eyes, not allowing them to fall. His eyes found yours, with his hands firm on your shoulders.

“It’s been hundreds of years since that happened. It doesn’t matter anymore. I stopped caring about them the moment I held Malleus in my arms,” he whispered. “Come on now, it’s okay. If anything, this experience was more demanding for you than for me.”

Fed up with him trying to play off his pain, you didn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. Lilia’s body became tense when you did, but he eased into your arms as seconds ticked by. He was slender, with just enough developed muscle to carry on with his duties as a general. You basked in his warmth, ignoring the slight discomfort of the beads adorning the side of his armor.

“For real, though. I wouldn’t put it past my general self to put you youngsters under a lot of stress,” he chuckled, his hands patting your back.

“Stop downplaying your feelings, Lilia.” It was your turn to grip his shoulders and retain eye contact despite the burn in your eyes. Even if taken aback, he listened. “I understand if you say it stopped bothering you years ago, but the baggage is still there. You’re not a dirty bat like those imbeciles said, and you were crucial in Malleus’s life.”

“I—”

“No, you’re going to listen.” You encased his cheeks with your palms. A glint of amusement ignited in his magenta irises, but he didn’t decline your sentiment. “You had reasons aplenty to turn down the request to hatch Malleus. But not only did you travel far and wide for its sake—you didn’t abandon him even after completing your pursuit. That’s proof of how nearsighted that Senate was. You’re so much more than the mud they wanted you to feel like. I could keep going on why they’re wrong.”

“You got your point across.” You could tell your heartfelt words affected him in a positive way. His gaze softened with gratitude. “Those ten years I spent in solitude, refusing to step near the castle, I came to the realization that I didn’t have the heart to turn my back to Malleus for any longer. Prefect…”

The sincere emotion with which he spoke forced you into noting your positions. There was a smidge of space between your bodies, and in the meantime you grasped his face, your faces were close enough for anyone to assume this was a couple’s intimate bit.

“Thank you. I’ll remember your words.” The appreciative expression morphed into his usual amused one. “You can stop squishing my cheeks now.”

Your face heated up.

“You’re very cute.” He laughed at the embarrassed way you tried to step away, apologizing for not heeding how hard you clasped your hands around his cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to win my heart.”

It wasn’t the main reason…Although it was one of the reasons why you did this in the first place.

Lilia didn’t allow you to relax. He hugged your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m going to use teleportation magic, so you better hold on tight this time,” he teased.

“Okay!”

You stuck to him and shut your eyes close.

You didn’t feel more than a weird shift in your surroundings.

“We’re here. You’re adamant on looking after me, but you’re weary yourself too.” He let go of you to open the door to his cottage. “I must warn you…I left in a haste, and it’s quite messy inside.”

“As long as there’s somewhere I can plop myself on, I don’t care.”

You stepped inside, and the first thing your eyes landed on was clothes thrown on the backrest of the chairs and piles of letters on the little hall table by the door. You had been in Lilia’s room in NRC, and it was in a state of disarray like it.

The sound of Lilia undoing the innumerable number of belts in his armor cut your thoughts short. He unbuckled the ones wrapped around his arms, followed by the one around his hips. There was some domesticity about being alone at home with him, seeing him get comfortable. Would he take off his ponytail and allow his hair to cascade down his back? You wouldn’t handle that. You registered other sounds coming from him, which you, at first, ignore.

“—lie down?”

“Ah.” You regained your senses. You focused on him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Hehe.” Lilia didn’t bother hiding the fact he was entertained by your reaction. “I said that I’m going to tidy up the place a bit so you can lie down.”

Lilia inclined forward to reach the belt around his leg. A sting stopped him midway. His pained vocalization prompted you to hurry to his side to check if he was okay.

“Oh, I guess Malleus’s magic did land on me after all.” Lilia’s eyebrows went up as you push the fabric up to reveal his abdomen. “No need to fuss over me. I’ve endured worse.”

“You don’t happen to have a first aid kit, do you?”

“Mm, nope. I used to let stuff heal on its own with time or seek help from fairies to heal.”

You didn’t waste any more time and made your way to his kitchen, finding a cloth to dampen it with water. This would make do for the time being. It was important to clean the filth surrounding the cut.

You dabbed the cloth around the wound. It wasn’t deep to the point it would need stitches, but you wanted to give a hand.

Lilia wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of getting taken care of. That didn’t stop his chest from warming at the sight of you tending to his wounds. This was a mere hitch; he could take care of it himself, yet it felt…nice, for a change.

With extra caution, you wiped the blood on his cheek off. It had been bothering you ever since you spotted it in the capital.

Given the proximity, you were aware of Lilia’s undisturbed observation on your face. You couldn’t ignore it any longer. Every thought and feeling urged you to confront these sentiments.

“I can’t remember the last time anyone tended to my wounds.” His lips curled into a smile that, if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was innocent. “What are you trying to do? Is there something you are expecting from me?”

His fingers enclosed around your awaiting hand by his cheek.

“All I want is to comfort you.”

“Comfort me?” He repeated, expecting every other answer but that one. The sincerity with which you replied fueled a need to toy with you a peg. “I see.”

His gloved hand grazed your cheek, mirroring the tenderness you wiped the blood off from his face.

“What a thoughtful creature you are,” he whispered, a thumb placed under your bottom lip. “I should reward you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat when he tipped forward, your lips an inch from his. A tickling sensation fluttered in your body, and you closed your eyes.

Softness landed on the very corner of your mouth.

“What is it? Were you anticipating more to happen?”

That cheeky bastard.

Sensing your oncoming disappointment, Lilia feathered a kiss on your lips. Another one. On your cheek again. He didn’t pull away like the first ones. The kisses trailed south. They tickled your neck, your pulse point, your collarbones.

Your soft laughter from the tickling escaped you, regardless of your efforts. The mood was playful with him to the point you left your guard down, and by the time you took note that Lilia had backed you towards the couch, it was late. It didn’t take him much effort to nudge you to lie on it and get comfortable on top of you.

“A good general never forgets the arts of stealth,” Lilia reveled in your surprise.

“I won’t let you get away with something like that again.”

“We’ll see about that.”  

The feather-like kisses didn’t come back—these were with the intention to steal your breath. You squirmed under him, fighting to breathe in between each ravenous kiss. He maintained your hands in place at each side of your head, his hips flush against yours. With each roll, it provided the friction you needed, the temperature in your body skyrocketing.  Wrapping your legs around his hips came like second nature, and in face of your lust in crescendo, Lilia delivered you the pleasure you sought.

Lilia helps you discard your clothes; you made work of his in no time.

Then, proceeded to squeeze your sides lovingly, nosing at your neck.

“Eek!” You jolted.

Lilia had dug his fangs into you when you least expected it.

Your response made him chuckle, which didn’t deter him from leaving a new mark on your collarbone. You wanted to be mad at him for surprising you, but the feeling of his fingers trailing in the direction of your cunt made you forget about it. A shiver raked your spine when his fingers slipped inside, the way he curled them stroked the right places.

Your hold around him tightened, panting against his skin as he fingered you slowly, savoring you.

Savor you in more than one sense. Those deft fingers abandoned you in favor of his mouth, licking them clean. His half-lidded eyes locked with yours, not shying from the provocative look he sent you.

“I think you need more preparation,” he teased. The slick trickling your inner thighs was proof of the contrary, and he knew it.

“I don’t,” you huffed in result to his obvious attempt to taunt you. You tensed your legs around him, guiding him where you wanted him to be. The head of his cock prodded your hole when you did, and Lilia gripped the base to inch inside.

A sigh made its way past his lips, testing the waters with steady forward and backward movements. You, however, couldn’t unglue your sight from the scars littered across his chest, to which you didn’t hesitate to bring him closer to kiss them. When you did, you earned a gasp from him, taken aback by your affection.

“Hehe, aren’t you a cheeky one, too?” Lilia’s face became flushed.

“I’m not done.”

No single scar left unkissed, at least the ones you could reach. The tenderness of your actions further kindled Lilia’s desire, speeding his thrusts. Your body knocked back and forth from the strength of those restless hips, awarded to his sighs and groans of pleasure right next to your ear. Although in a faint manner, you registered his hands abandoning your hips in favor enveloping his arms around your waist, using the newfound position to latch you in place and take him.

Faster than you expected, your orgasm wrecked every fiber of your body—snatching every thought and you couldn’t do anything else other than tangle your hand in Lilia’s disheveled hair. At your tug, Lilia gave an appreciative grunt, followed by his own climax forcing him to a stop.

A quiet Lilia was a rare occurrence. Albeit this uncharacteristic silence was pleasant. Returning to his playful nature, Lilia feathered your shoulders with kisses, and you couldn’t hold from smiling.

Said smile dropped when his fingers sought a certain spot…

“Lilia—” you managed to blurt out. Lilia tilted his head in question. “You must be tired. Don’t you want to rest?”

“Me? Rest? This dream has provided me with the vitality I have lost,” his thumb circled your clit. “I’ve never felt this energized before, and I intend to take advantage of it.”

[flokali]

𓂆 | Write for Gaza

. . . . .

𓄷 Note: As a member of the Palestinian diaspora, I feel like this is the least I could do to help my people back in our beloved homeland. After 76 years of silence from the world, please do not look away and do not keep quiet – you can make a difference, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

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𓄷 WIP

—#๋࣭. I love you, I Own you ; Part 3

Final part to the “ILYIOY” series, meant to tie up the story and finish telling what happens to Reader’s family, Reader herself, and Childe’s feelings about what he’s done.

Current word count: 600~ words • Estimated word count: 9k words

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—#๋࣭. Deus Vult ; Reworked (Part 1)

A complete rewriting and restructuring of my first fic on the blog, it’ll be longer and more thorough; after almost 2 years on the blog, if not more, I have mulled over the concept many times and wished to redo it and give it a proper setting.

Current word count: 500~ words • Estimated word count: 6-9k words

—#๋࣭. Love Virus

Boothill fic where a pesky USB with a “love code” gets mistakenly used on him, as the doctor/programmer in charge with overseeing this mess – you find yourself the target of his newfound affection.

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—#๋࣭. 777

You’re one of the last remaining people of your species, now seen as a luxury to be passed around to the highest bidder. In a twist of fate, Aventurine finds himself with the key – or price – to your freedom, although he never fancied himself a hero he doesn’t mind the way you look at him as your saviour.

Current word count: 1200~ words • Estimated word count: 6k word.

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* I’ll also accept unique OC’s made just for the request that you will be able to request for again in the future.

[stove-top96]

Better In the Dark

Synopsis

Y Platonic Batfam x GN Meta Reader

Featuring: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

0.8K

Just an Idea I had while writing Chapter 3 of water colour eyes. I’m definitely gonna write Chapter 1 soon (maybe this weekend). Let me know what y’all think. I’m in such a writing mood lately so stay tuned for other Ideas and more one-shots.

You really didn’t mean for it to happen, but your mistake never warranted such an extreme reaction. You were careless, relying too much on your powers rather than the proper technique when fighting. if it weren’t for Robin you probably would’ve died. Still, they've all had near death experiences. What makes you any different? It seems like overnight everything’s flipped 180, they’re all more extreme, more obsessed. Don’t they understand your civilian life doesn’t include them? Why are they so goddamn insistent?

For Bruce it was like reliving the same nightmare. Watching helpless as the goons put that power inhibition collar on. Unable to do anything when they struck you over the head. The same helpless despair pooling in his gut from when he watched his parents die, Jason die and now you. This cycle of watching the people he cares about die is one he thought he broke free of, clearly not. While he sits there by your hospital bed, the beep from the heart monitor is the only thing that keeps him going. (Y/N) (L/N) he swears to you that he will never let anyone ever hurt you again.

It was different for Dick, he knew you looked up to Nightwing, to him, Even so he wasn’t there that night. Your hero, the one you aspire to be like, wasn't even there to save you. He’s pathetic, what kind of symbol is he when he can’t even protect the people close to him? He wasn’t even doing anything important that night, he was watching Netflix for god's sake, on a supposed “rest day” while you were giving it your all. He doesn’t deserve to be your hero, you’re too good to him. He knows you’ll say “it wasn’t anyone’s anyone’s fault but my own” deep down he knows the truth. He’ll give up anything to make it up to you, to be someone who deserves to be looked up towards.

Jason was scared. He knows what it’s like to put your trust in others only for them to not be there. Bruce did it to him, but now he’s done it to you. He’s become exactly what he despised. He doesn’t let just anyone grow close to him, but your kindness and authenticity was different, you weren’t fake to him and your kindness started to rub off on him. You were like his sibling, you brought light into his life, and he was supposed to protect that, protect you. He doesn’t know what will happen once you wake up. Knowing you, you won't blame anyone. But will you truly forgive them for not being there? Will you blame him?

Tim was the closest to you. Both of you being similar in age, and sharing a sense of humour it was hard not to get along with you. You were able to match his intellect, and even saved him a few times when Tim Drake was kidnapped and held for ransom (not that you knew it was him). Even more than that, you understood him more than anyone else did. You both started being vigilantes at around the same time, but unlike you Tim only became Robin because no one else would, and you never blamed him for that you also understood Batman needs Robin. When saw what happened he didn’t know what to do. He Joked with you earlier how Gothams became so tame, he should have seen this coming, it was too quiet. He has a plan of action for everything, yet when it mattered he froze. Sure it was only for a few seconds, but that’s life or death. He’s Lucky, you lived. If you didn’t, it would be his fault. How is he supposed to live with himself after such a drastic mistake?

Damian’s perspective changed. You were never on the same level as him, but he thought he could hold your own. It’s clear that belief was a mistake, one that almost cost you your life. you’re weak, someone who just happened to be meta. you’re not like him or the others. You’re meant to be protected, to stay at home while he fights. It was his blind trust in your abilities that you ended up in that bed. He’s grown careless, you made him that way. Your laugh had an uncanny ability to make him feel at ease, he’s never felt so seen by a person before. It was easy to lower his guard around you, a trait of yours he both cherished and envied. He won’t make that mistake again, he knows what he needs to do to ensure you stay protected.

Silence fills the Batcave, the family can do nothing but stare down at you. Unable to do anything but relive that night, they promise nothing like that will ever happen again. They will make sure of it.

[sixosix]

can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. “just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

[pandapetals]

The Wedding

You and Logan get married!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

also thank you to @coocoocachewgotscrewed for the idea of logan keeping the pen reader gave him and using it to write his vows.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"It'll be a small wedding," Logan grumbled, scratching the back of his neck with that familiar, slightly awkward air he got whenever something made him uncomfortable. He stood in the middle of the living room, looking like a bear that had wandered into a tea party, completely out of place.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the pile of bridal magazines scattered across the coffee table. "Small? Logan, there's at least a hundred people living at the mansion alone," you said, your voice somewhere between amused and exasperated. "It’s not exactly going to be 'small' with that kind of guest list."

Across from you, Jean nodded, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a wedding planning book perched in her lap. "My wedding had three hundred guests, remember Logan?" she chimed in helpfully, flipping through a page on flower arrangements.

"Our wedding," Scott corrected from the armchair beside her, not even looking up from the paper he was reading.

Logan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Exactly why we should skip all this crap and just get hitched already," he muttered, his voice low and gruff.

You shot him a playful look, shaking your head. "What happened to 'you can do whatever you want, darlin'?" you asked, mimicking his gravelly voice with a teasing smile.

Logan’s mouth twitched, almost into a smile, but then his eyes flicked back to the growing mountain of wedding plans, suggestions from friends, and magazines full of over-the-top ideas. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he stood just a little too rigid like he was bracing for an attack.

Truth be told, you were feeling the weight of it too.

At first, you had been excited—three months of engagement bliss, giddy over every little detail. The idea of a big, beautiful wedding had seemed like a dream. But now? Now it felt overwhelming. Everyone had an opinion, from the color scheme to the type of cake to the seating arrangements. You loved your friends, but the constant suggestions had turned into something else, something bigger than you and Logan. It had started to feel like the wedding wasn’t really yours anymore.

Jean leaned in, holding up a sample invitation. "Oh, and I was thinking," she began, clearly not picking up on Logan’s discomfort. "You could have this gorgeous ice-blue theme with silver accents—it would match the winter season perfectly."

Logan shot you a look—one of those looks that said I’m two seconds away from walking out of here. You couldn’t blame him. The more Jean talked, the more you realized something had shifted inside you. Somewhere along the way, you’d gotten caught up in making the perfect day, and forgotten what this wedding was really about: you and Logan.

Not the flowers. Not the guest list. You two.

Logan cleared his throat, trying once more to gently steer the conversation. "Listen, all this sounds real nice," he said, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, "but what if we just kept it simple? Y’know, courthouse, couple of rings, call it a day."

Jean blinked, clearly baffled. "A courthouse? Logan, this is your wedding! It’s supposed to be a special day, something beautiful."

You opened your mouth to agree with Jean, to defend the idea of having a "proper" wedding. But then, you looked at Logan again. His eyes—those deep, hazel eyes—were watching you closely like he was waiting for you to decide. Not just about the wedding, but about what you wanted, deep down.

Suddenly, it clicked. You realized that Logan was right. You didn’t need a grand affair. You didn’t need three hundred guests or ice-blue color scheme or a designer dress. You didn’t need all the noise and spectacle. What you needed—what you wanted —was something that felt like the two of you. Something real. Something simple.

You smiled softly, the decision made. "You know what?" you said, standing up from the couch and tossing the magazines aside. "I think Logan’s right."

Jean’s eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

Scott finally looked up from his paper, equally surprised.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his usual gruff skepticism tinged with curiosity. "Really?"

You nodded, crossing the room to stand in front of him, resting your hand on his arm. "Yeah," you said, your voice quieter now, more certain. "I don’t need the big wedding. I don’t need all the fuss. All I need is you. " You smiled up at him, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders as the words came out. "Let’s just get married. Just us."

For the first time in days, you saw Logan’s shoulders relax. He let out a low breath, his lips twitching into that half-smile that always made your heart skip a beat. "You sure?"

"Absolutely," you said, your hand slipping down to intertwine with his. "Let’s get hitched."

A week later, you found yourself standing outside the courthouse, the sun just beginning to set in the late afternoon sky, casting a warm glow over everything. It was quiet, just the way you wanted it. No crowd, no elaborate decorations, and no endless chatter. Just you and Logan, and the soft hum of the world around you.

You looked down at the simple dress you’d chosen—nothing fancy, just something that made you feel good, made you feel like you. Logan, dressed in his usual button-up, looked handsome in that effortlessly rugged way only he could pull off. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, a teasing glimpse of his chest visible, and his hair styled in those little tufts as always, the white streaks more visible. 

"Ready?" you asked, your heart fluttering in anticipation.

Logan’s eyes met yours, steady and calm. "More than ready."

As you both stepped inside, the courthouse was quiet. There was no fanfare, no grand entrance—just the two of you, walking hand in hand, a quiet sense of peace settling over the moment.

The ceremony itself was simple, just like you’d wanted until Logan surprised you. He cleared his throat, looking a little awkward as he reached into his jacket pocket.

"I, uh... I’ve got somethin’ for you," he muttered, his voice rough but filled with something soft underneath. From his pocket, he pulled out a pen. Not just any pen.

Your breath caught in your throat. It was your pen—the one you’d given him two years ago when he had started his first-day teaching history at Xavier’s. A "good luck" charm, you had called it, but it had become something meaningful to Logan.

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes as Logan handed it to you with a small smile. From the same pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled, like it had been carried around for a while.

"I wrote somethin'," he said, his voice low as he unfolded the paper, his eyes flicking nervously to yours. "Figured you deserved more than just... y’know, me wingin’ it."

He cleared his throat, glancing down at the paper. Then, with that same rough tenderness that was so purely Logan, he began to read.

"I ain’t great with words, darlin'," he started, his voice softening. "But I figure you already know that. So, I’ll keep it simple. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I ain’t perfect... never will be. I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life doin’ whatever it takes to make you happy, keepin’ you safe, and showin’ you that you’re loved. 'Cause you are, more than I ever thought I’d love someone."

By the time he finished, your vision was blurred with unshed tears. You didn’t need any more words. You didn’t need anything grand or fancy. In that quiet courthouse, with Logan standing before you, holding the pen you had given him long ago, you had everything you could ever want.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, "I love you. I never thought I could be this happy, but every day with you... you show me something new. You make everything better."

He smiled then, a real, full smile that softened the lines of his face and reached his eyes—a rare sight, but one you cherished every time. He stepped closer, his hand warm and rough as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch grounding you in the moment.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that sent warmth spreading through you, just like the way his presence always did.

You held each other's gaze as the quiet world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you standing there. Together, you exchanged rings—simple gold bands that glinted in the soft light, but they felt like so much more.

Logan leaned in, his lips brushed yours, sealing the vows with a soft kiss. It was as steady and certain as the love you had found with him. It was simply perfect.

[moon-lit-petal]

Believe Me

Neville Longbottom x Fem!Beauxbatons!Reader

Summary: 5 times Dean and Seamus don't believe Neville and the time He proved them wrong.

Warning: not proof read, possibly not so nice friends, Neville being totally in love.

Word Count: 5k

Notes: this takes place when they are much older, I'd like to think that moldy V doesn't exist and the triwizard tournament happens much later in their hogwarts career :) I tried to keep it as ambiguous

----------

The Gryffindor common room was a cozy haven, illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace that cast warm shadows on the maroon and gold walls. A rowdy bunch of Gryffindors lounged comfortably on the oversized sofas, laughter and chatter filling the air as they reminisced about their latest escapades at Hogwarts.

"Honestly," Ron said, a frown spreading across his face, "I don’t know what’s worse—having a crush or trying to figure out what to say when you actually talk to them!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell me about it. I thought I was doing well with Cho until I accidentally called her 'Hermione' in the middle of a conversation!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips. "That’s not going to help your case, Harry."

The boys erupted into laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Dean leaned back, his arms behind his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I can’t even get a proper conversation going. It’s like every time I try to flirt, I end up sounding like a complete idiot."

Seamus snickered. "Remember when you tried to impress that girl from Slytherin with your 'amazing' Quidditch skills? You barely made it through the first sentence!"

"That was one time!" Dean retorted, though he couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin.

Just then, Neville spoke up with hesitant confidence.

"I mean, dating isn't that hard when you're with the right person."

The room fell silent, a few eyebrows raised in curiosity. Ron snorted, breaking the stillness. "No offense, Neville, but what do you know about dating? You've never had a girlfriend before, right?"

With a half-hearted shrug and a giddy smile, he looks at his friends. “Well actually, I've been dating this girl for a little while now.”

"Wait, who is she?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"She’s from Beauxbatons!" Neville said, his voice gaining confidence. "Her name is Y/N. She’s really nice, we met over the summer when she was visiting some family”"

Seamus squinted skeptically. "A Beauxbatons girl? Come on, Neville, that sounds a bit too good to be true."

Hermione frowned, clearly disapproving of the boys’ reactions. "Guys, come on you shouldn't just dismiss him, I'm sure she's a nice girl Neville." She gave him a small smile, Neville could tell she too, didn't believe him

Ginny crossed her arms and chimed in. "Exactly. Just because you lot can’t seem to get dates doesn’t mean you should tear him down."

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m not tearing him down! I’m just saying it’s hard to believe. Neville and a girl from Beauxbatons?"

Neville’s face turned a shade of crimson. "I’m serious! We’ve been writing to each other, and she even sent me a few drawings, she does portraits and sent one shed done of herself"

Laughter erupted around the room, the sound mingling with Neville’s embarrassed smile.

Hermione’s expression softened. "That sounds just lovely Neville. Maybe you could show us next time?"

Neville blushed even deeper. "I’m planning to! Well, I was… but they fell in the black lake the other day and got ruined..”

Seamus grinned. "Well, that's just a bloody shame, isn't it?”

"I swear! I'm not lying!!" Neville replied, sounding both desperate for someone to believe him and annoyed they would think he'd lie about something like this, to begin with.

Ginny smirked. "It's ok Neville, we believe you really."

The boys continued their good-natured teasing, but Hermione and Ginny shot them looks that conveyed they should ease off. Gradually, the teasing softened, and Hermione quickly sought to change the subject.

"So, what about that new potion Professor Snape was on about?" she suggested, her smile brightening, and at the mention of Professor Snape everyone groaned out a whine.

The conversation shifted effortlessly as they delved into tales of misadventures in Potions class, leaving the topic of girlfriends behind, at least for the moment. Laughter filled the room once more, but Neville couldn’t help but shake his head at his friends. He knows they mean well, and as long as he knows he's telling the truth, then they'd eat their words eventually

----------

The greenhouses were buzzing with the sound of shovels scraping soil and the occasional screech from a particularly unruly Mandrake. Neville Longbottom, expertly handling a Venomous Tentacula with gloved hands, chatted absently with Ron as they worked together.

“I was talking to Y/N the other day,” Neville said, his tone casual as he patted down the soil around the plant. “She gave me some really good advice on how to deal with these sorts of plants. Apparently, they grow some massive ones in the Beauxbatons greenhouses.”

Ron looked up from his struggle with his own plant. “Oh yeah? Beauxbatons, right?”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she said they have this whole section dedicated to magical flora that we don’t even study here. She told me about this method they use to calm them down, so they don’t snap at you when you get close.”

Hermione overheard and looked over, curiosity piqued. “Really? I’d love to read up on that. Beauxbatons must have a fantastic Herbology program. Did she mention any specific techniques?”

Neville smiled. “Yeah, something about using lavender essence mixed with dragon dung fertilizer. It keeps them relaxed but still healthy. I’m thinking about trying it on one of the plants here.”

Ron gave him a sideways glance, his expression caught between amusement and doubt. “You’ve got an answer for everything these days, don’t you, Neville? Y/N’s always helping you out, eh?”

“Well, she knows a lot about Herbology,” Neville said earnestly. “We talk about plants all the time.”

Harry, busy with his own re-potting, chuckled softly. “Sounds like you two have a lot in common, Neville. It’s nice to have someone who shares your interests.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And Beauxbatons is known for their magical plants, so it’s not surprising she’d know a lot. What else has she taught you?”

Before Neville could respond, Seamus, who was struggling with his own plant a few tables away, joined the conversation. “Wait a minute, are we still talking about the mysterious Beauxbatons girlfriend? You’ve got to admit, Neville, it sounds a bit too good to be true. A French girl who’s an expert in magical plants? What are the odds?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Yeah, Neville, no offense, but you talk about her like she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, smart, loves Herbology… I’m starting to think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Neville flushed, but he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s real, I promise. She just… understands me. We have a lot in common.”

Ron patted Neville on the back, grinning. “We believe you, mate. It’s just hard to imagine someone who’s basically a Herbology goddess and happens to be your girlfriend. We’ll believe it when we see her.”

Harry, who had been silent for most of the exchange, gave Neville an encouraging smile. “Well, I’m sure she’s real, Neville. It’d be great to meet her one day.”

Seamus, however, couldn’t resist another quip. “Maybe she’ll show up with a rare magical plant to prove it, eh?”

Neville forced a smile but didn’t push the subject further. He knew they didn’t mean to be harsh, but it was clear that, despite their friendly tones, his friends still had their doubts about Y/N. He returned to his work, focusing on the plants.

----------

It was a typical morning in the Great Hall, sunlight streaming through the tall enchanted windows, casting golden beams across the long tables filled with Hogwarts students enjoying their breakfast. The scent of fresh bread, eggs, and pumpkin juice filled the air. Chatter echoed from all sides, students murmuring about Quidditch matches, homework assignments, and weekend plans.

Neville sat at the Gryffindor table, absently pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate. His thoughts were far from breakfast. He had been waiting for weeks now—hoping for a letter or, even better, a package from Y/N.. Their relationship had been going strong, though the distance often made it difficult. But lately, he'd mentioned her so many times that his friends had begun to give him knowing looks, and their teasing, though lighthearted, always made him feel a little self-conscious.

“Oi, Neville! You alright, mate?” Seamus Finnigan asked, nudging him gently. “You’ve been staring at those eggs for ten minutes. Something on your mind?”

Neville smiled faintly, trying to shake off his nervous anticipation. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the post.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the familiar sound of wings fluttering through the air filled the hall. Dozens of owls soared through the enchanted ceiling, delivering letters and parcels to their waiting owners. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the sea of wings, hoping to see something special. And then he saw it—a stunning, silvery owl with long, elegant wings gliding toward him, catching the light as it flew. It was unlike any owl he’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

The owl swooped down gracefully, landing right in front of Neville with a soft hoot. In its talons was a thick package wrapped in delicate lavender-colored paper, sealed with the distinctive wax crest of Beauxbatons. Neville’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at the package in his lap, hardly believing it.

“Blimey, Neville,” Ron said from across the table, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a fancy delivery.”

“Is that… from your girlfriend?” Hermione asked, looking at the package curiously.

Neville nodded, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, it’s from Y/N.”

His friends exchanged glances, but there wasn’t any teasing, just mild surprise. Neville had spoken about Y/N often, but she seemed almost like a mythical figure to them—this beautiful, mysterious girl from France whom none of them had ever met.

“That’s some owl she’s got,” Dean commented, leaning over to get a better look at the package. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like that.”

Neville nodded again, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gazes. “She mentioned it once. Said it’s a rare breed from France. She’s… pretty proud of it.”

Seamus grinned. “Well, go on then, mate. Open it! Let’s see what she’s sent you.”

Neville hesitated for a moment, feeling all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t trying to be skeptical or mean, but he could sense the curiosity behind their words. His friends had never outright doubted him, but it was clear that after months of hearing about Y/N and not seeing any proof, they were a bit… unsure. Still, there was no mockery in their faces—just genuine interest.

With a deep breath, Neville carefully broke the wax seal and unwrapped the package. Inside was a beautifully embroidered scarf in the deep blue and silver colors of Beauxbatons, along with a folded letter. The scarf was soft, clearly handmade, and it smelled faintly of lavender.

“Wow,” Hermione said, leaning in closer. “That’s lovely, Neville. She made this for you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Neville said quietly, running his fingers over the delicate stitches. “She’s been learning how to embroider. I, um… mentioned I needed a new scarf for winter, and I guess she remembered.”

Ron nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. Not many people make things like this anymore.”

Harry smiled from beside him. “Looks like she really cares about you, Neville.”

Neville smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the scarf. It felt good to hear that—not just because it was true, but because it seemed like, for once, his friends weren’t doubting him.

But then Seamus, ever the joker, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’ve got to admit, though, Neville—it’s almost too perfect. A hand-embroidered scarf? From a Beauxbatons girl who sends you packages by a rare French owl? It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Neville laughed, shaking his head. “I know it sounds a bit… unbelievable, but I swear it’s true. She’s real.”

Dean, who had been eyeing the letter, grinned. “Well, if she keeps sending you things like this, we’ll start believing in miracles.”

Hermione shot Dean a disapproving look, but Neville chuckled along with the others. It wasn’t mean-spirited—they were just having fun. He didn’t mind the light teasing, especially now that he had proof to show them. And even if they found it hard to believe, they weren’t questioning him outright, just amused at the unlikely situation.

“That’ll be the day,” Ron said with a grin, though he quickly added, “But hey, She sounds great.”

Neville folded the scarf carefully and slipped it into his bag, feeling a little lighter. “She is.”

As the conversation shifted back to Quidditch and schoolwork, Neville glanced down at the unopened letter in his hands. He could read it later, in private. For now, he felt content knowing that, whether his friends believed him or not, Y/N was real—and she cared about him enough to send something as special as this.

Even if they still found it hard to imagine, that was enough for Neville. And maybe, just maybe, one day soon, his friends would get to meet her and see for themselves that she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. But until then, he’d hold on to the scarf, the letter, and the quiet certainty that she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her.

----------

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, the usual hustle and bustle replaced with a mellow atmosphere as the school year drew to a close. Most of the students had already packed their things, their trunks neatly stacked and waiting by the fireplace. The chairs around the room were occupied by groups of friends chatting, playing games, or simply lounging around, savoring the last few moments before heading home for the summer.

Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a couple of other Gryffindors near the windows, gazing out at the grounds. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the stone walls.

“I can't believe the year’s over already,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels like we were just getting back from Christmas break.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Seamus agreed, his tone relaxed. “But I’m not going to miss the essays.”

Neville, absently fiddling with his wand, smiled. “I was telling Y/N about how busy it’s been. She’s had a lot going on too. The end of the year at Beauxbatons is apparently just as hectic as here.”

Seamus shot him a quick glance, his expression neutral, though Dean exchanged a brief look with him. “Y/N, huh?” Seamus said, not missing a beat. “Sounds like she’s got it rough over there.”

Neville nodded, completely unaware of Seamus’s inner skepticism. “Yeah, she’s been swamped. But we’re planning to meet up over the summer. She might even come to England for a bit.”

“That’s great, mate,” Dean chimed in, his voice casual though he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Neville stood up suddenly as if remembering something important. “Oh no! I forgot to pack my Astrronomy textbooks. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he hurried off to his dorm room, leaving the rest of them sitting there. The moment Neville was out of earshot, Seamus turned to the others with an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” Seamus said, leaning forward. “I like Neville, you all know that, but I’m telling you, there is no way Y/N exists.”

Dean grinned, leaning in as well. “You’re still stuck on that?”

Seamus shrugged, but the look on his face said he was convinced. “Come on, Dean. You’ve heard him talk about her for months—perfect French girlfriend from Beauxbatons who just happens to love magical plants as much as he does? I mean, sure, it could be true, but she’s never sent a picture, she’s never visited Hogwarts, and the only proof we’ve got are a few letters that could be from anyone.”

One of the younger Gryffindors, who had been listening in, piped up. “So, you think Neville’s lying? He doesn’t seem like the type to make something like that up.”

Seamus shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think he’s lying, not really. I think he believes it. But I’m just saying—it sounds like he’s being catfished. It’s not like he’s met her in person since they started writing. For all we know, it could be some bloke from Durmstrang having a laugh.”

Dean chuckled. “You reckon someone’s really going that far to mess with Neville? That’s pretty dedicated.”

Seamus leaned back, his arms crossed. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t think she’s real. Or if she is, maybe she’s not exactly what Neville thinks. It’s just a bit… convenient, isn’t it? All these grand stories, but no one’s ever seen her.”

One of the girls nearby, who had been half-listening, frowned. “But Neville doesn’t seem like he’s making it up. He talks about her like she’s the real deal.”

“I know, that’s what makes me feel bad about doubting him,” Seamus admitted. “But you’ve got to admit it’s a bit suspicious. Every time she’s supposed to visit, something comes up. She’s ‘too busy,’ or ‘there’s something going on at Beauxbatons.’ It’s been almost a year and still no sign of her.”

Dean raised a hand to stop Seamus. “Alright, alright. But what if she is real and just… busy?”

Seamus snorted softly, though his tone was lighter. “Then she’s the busiest girlfriend in the world. Look, I’m not saying I’d tell Neville to his face that I don’t believe her. The poor bloke would be crushed. But between us… I just don’t see it.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Seamus’s words hung in the air. The group seemed divided—some more skeptical, others wanting to believe in Neville’s story.

“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” one of the younger students said. “Maybe she’ll show up next year and you’ll all feel silly.”

Seamus grinned, though his expression remained doubtful. “If she shows up, I’ll buy Neville a drink. But until then… I’m betting we’re in for another year of stories about a girl we’ll never meet.”

As they laughed and talked, the door to the boys’ dormitory creaked open, and Neville came back down the stairs, his arms full of books.

“Found them,” Neville said, smiling as he returned to his spot by the window. “I almost forgot the Mooncalf studies Y/N recommended too.”

Seamus caught Dean’s eye but quickly smiled at Neville. “Glad you found everything, mate. All set for the summer, then?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, sitting down and looking a little wistful. “Just can’t wait to see her.”

Seamus nodded, his tone friendlier now. “Hope it all works out, Nev.”

As the conversation moved on to other things, the quiet skepticism lingered, but none of them had the heart to say anything to Neville directly. As much as they doubted Y/N’s existence, they couldn’t bring themselves to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. They just hoped, in their own way, that somehow, Y/N would turn out to be real after all.

----------

The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, carrying its excited students back to school for another year. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional call of a vendor selling sweets filled the air as students reunited after the summer holiday, exchanging stories and catching up on the latest news.

In one of the compartments, Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a few other Gryffindors, a wide grin on his face as he animatedly recounted his summer adventures.

“… and then we went to this amazing garden in Kew! She couldn’t believe how many magical plants were hidden in plain sight. I’ve never seen her so excited,” Neville said, his eyes sparkling as he spoke about Y/N for the umpteenth time since they’d boarded the train.

Seamus leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, nodding along. “That sounds pretty great, Neville. So, you finally got to go on a proper date, huh?”

Neville beamed. “Yeah! We went on a few, actually. We had the best time. She was in London visiting her family for a couple of weeks, so we got to meet up almost every day.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, curious. “You said she was visiting family before, right? Didn’t she have plans to stay longer?”

“Yeah, she did,” Neville admitted, his tone dropping slightly, “but something came up. Her family had to leave earlier than expected, so she didn’t get to meet you guys like we’d planned.” He looked apologetic as he said it, clearly disappointed that his friends hadn’t been able to meet Y/N again.

“That’s too bad,” Dean said, sharing a glance with Seamus. “We were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Neville sighed, but then perked up again. “But we did take loads of pictures! I wanted to show you all, but… uh…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “She took the photos with her by accident when she left. We were using her camera, and she packed it with all her stuff.”

Seamus blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “So, no pictures?”

Neville shook his head, he saw the clear skepticism beneath Seamus’s question but brushed it off. “No, but she’s going to send them by owl as soon as she can. She promised. There were some really good ones too—us in front of the Leaky Cauldron, at Kew Gardens, and a few near the Tower of London. I can’t wait to show you all.”

Seamus exchanged another glance with Dean, a small smile tugging at his lips, though he kept it from looking too patronizing. “Sounds like it was a great time, mate.”

“Oh, it was,” Neville said earnestly. “Y/N’s amazing. We even talked about coming up with ways to visit more often during the year. Maybe meet up during the Hogsmeade weekends. I’m going to send her a letter as soon as we get back to Hogwarts.”

Seamus nodded along, though his smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Dean shifted in his seat, glancing out the window for a moment before leaning forward. “So, Neville, you said her family comes to London often, right? Does she have a lot of family here?”

“Her dad’s English,” Neville explained. “Her mum is French, so they stay over there most of the time but they come back to visit every summer, and sometimes during the holidays. That’s how we managed to spend so much time together.”

Dean nodded slowly, while Seamus leaned forward just a little. “And you didn’t think to borrow one picture, maybe a keepsake for yourself?” he asked lightly. There was no malice in his voice, but there was an unmistakable undertone of doubt.

Neville ignored it. “I didn’t need to. We’ve been writing so much, and she’s going to send the pictures soon. Besides, I’ve got her letters, and I brought back a few things we picked up together. Look.” He pulled out a small, intricately woven bracelet from his bag. “We got these matching bracelets from a little magical shop near Diagon Alley. Hers has a charm for luck, and mine’s for protection.”

Seamus studied the bracelet for a moment before leaning back. “That’s nice, Neville.”

Dean smiled at the bracelet, genuinely trying to be supportive. “Yeah, it looks great. You two must’ve had a good time.”

“We did,” Neville replied, relaxing now that he was surrounded by his friends. “She’s just… brilliant. I really wish you could’ve met her. I know you’d all get along.”

Seamus offered a friendly smile, though his eyes flickered with doubt. “Yeah, maybe next time, Neville.”

The compartment grew quiet for a moment, and the sound of the train clacking along the tracks filled the space. Outside, the countryside whizzed by in a blur of green fields and distant hills, and the feeling of excitement for the new school year was still palpable.

Dean, always the diplomat, broke the silence. “Well, I’m glad you had a good summer, Neville. Hopefully next time, the timing will work out better.”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. She really wants to meet you all. She’s heard so much about you.”

Seamus shot Dean a look, and Dean just shrugged, his face carefully neutral. No one wanted to say it, but the story about Y/N was starting to sound a bit too convenient—another summer gone by, another set of plans that didn’t quite line up. And now, no photos to show for it, either.

But despite their growing doubts, Seamus and Dean weren’t about to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. Not after he had spent the entire train ride practically glowing with happiness. Still, once Neville got up to stretch his legs and grab some snacks from the trolley, Seamus leaned toward Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“So… still no Y/N, huh?”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Still no Y/N.”

“I swear, if she’s real, I’ll eat my own shoe,” Seamus muttered under his breath. “Every time he gets close to introducing her, something comes up.”

Dean glanced out the window again before replying. “I don’t know, Seamus. Maybe she’s real, but there’s just bad timing. Or maybe…”

“Maybe she’s in his head,” Seamus finished, his tone soft but resigned. “I just don’t get how one person could have this much bad luck when it comes to us meeting her.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “At this point, I just hope for Neville’s sake that she’s real. You can see how much he cares about her.”

“Yeah,” Seamus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I hope so too.”

When Neville returned with a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a Butterbeer, his smile was as bright as ever, blissfully unaware of the quiet conversation that had just passed between his friends. And as the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, his thoughts were already on the letters he’d be sending to Y/N once they arrived at school.

----------

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The start of a new school year always brought surprises, but this time, there was something different in the air. The students were seated at their house tables, eagerly awaiting the feast, when Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat to address the hall.

“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the room, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. “I am particularly pleased to announce that this year, we will be hosting a most extraordinary event… the Triwizard Tournament!”

A murmur spread through the hall, rippling with whispers and shocked expressions. Neville, seated at the Gryffindor table with Seamus, Dean, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, exchanged confused glances with the others.

“Triwizard Tournament?” Dean muttered. “That wasn’t in the usual announcements.”

“Yeah, didn’t see that coming,” Seamus added, leaning in to hear more.

Dumbledore continued, explaining the rich history of the tournament, how it had been revived, and the prestigious honor of being chosen as a champion. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the entrance of the hall.

“And now, may I introduce our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute.”

The heavy doors at the end of the hall swung open, and the students of Beauxbatons Academy entered. They moved with grace and poise that captivated everyone, wearing their sky-blue silk robes as they marched in perfect unison. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the group, but he couldn’t spot Y/N among them.

“Who are they?” Harry asked, squinting to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, intrigued. “But they look amazing.”

“They’re all so… elegant,” Ron said, trying to take it all in. “Do you think they’re all that good-looking?”

“Probably,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully.

As the Beauxbatons students completed their entrance, Neville’s heart dropped when he didn’t see Y/N. Just when he thought he might be imagining things, she stepped forward, performing acrobatic flips and graceful spins, her hair flowing behind her like a cascade of river waves. She looked more stunning than Neville could ever have described.

“Bloody hell, who is that?” Dean whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Seamus was staring, frozen in place. “No way…”

When the introductions were done, Neville leaned closer to his friends. “That’s her! That’s Y/N!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing between Neville and the group. “Wait, who’s Y/N? Which one?”

Neville pointed toward Y/N, who was beaming with joy alongside her classmates. “The one in the front! I didn’t know she was coming!”

The others turned to look, their expressions shifting from curiosity to disbelief. “No way!” Ron exclaimed, glancing at Neville. “You weren’t joking about her being real?”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “She’s absolutely brilliant!”

Before anyone could say another word, a voice called out from across the hall.

“Neville!”

Neville’s head snapped up, and there she was, weaving through the crowd, her face lighting up when she spotted him. “Y/N!” he breathed.

The next thing he knew, Y/N was rushing toward him, a wide smile on her face. “Neville!” she called again, and in an instant, she was there, throwing her arms around him.

Without hesitation, she began planting kisses all over his face—on his cheeks, forehead, and nose—her laughter bubbling up as she clung to him. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said between kisses.

The entire Gryffindor table stared in stunned silence. Seamus’s mouth was hanging open, while Dean could only blink in disbelief. All around the hall, students who had been casually talking or laughing stopped to watch the unexpected display. Whispers started spreading like wildfire, but Neville didn’t care—he was too overjoyed, too caught up in the moment.

“Y/N!” Neville finally managed to say, his face flushed from the attention. “I—I missed you too! I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N giggled and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “I wanted to surprise you, silly. You should’ve seen your face when I came in!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Neville was too overwhelmed to respond properly. His heart felt like it was about to burst from happiness. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around him again in a tight hug.

The Gryffindor table was still frozen in place, watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. Seamus finally found his voice and leaned toward Dean, whispering, “Well… that is not what I expected at all...”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not the only one, mate.”

Y/N finally pulled away from Neville, her smile never fading. She glanced around at his friends, who were still recovering from the shock. “You must be Neville’s friends,” she said brightly, offering them a cheerful wave. “It’s so nice to finally meet you all!”

“Y-Yeah, we’ve heard… a lot about you,” Dean stammered, offering a friendly, albeit awkward smile.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the lingering disbelief. “I hope all good things!”

“Definitely,” Seamus managed to say, shooting Neville a look that was a mixture of awe and apology. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Y/N.”

As the rest of the Great Hall resumed their chatter, Neville stood there with Y/N by his side, his face glowing with pride. After a year of doubt, teasing, and skepticism, here she was—real, vibrant, and wonderful.

For once, Neville didn’t need to say anything. His friends finally believed him.

[nekomacheercaptain]

Day 5: Forced proximity

This is my first time writing for Zoro…

Zoro thought it would be fun to go on a hike in the snowy mountains, saying something about "needing firewood". You, for some reason, didn't question him when he took the lead?? Oh no... what are two people supposed to do to keep warm when they are lost in the cold?

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem! reader

Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW

Word count: 2,1K

Content: female reader, forced proximity, oral sex (fem! receiving), very tiny bit of nipple play, slight body worship

"Remind me why I let you lead?"

Zoro shrugged his shoulders, "'Cause I know where we're going."

You looked down at the snow only to see another set of identical footprints, "...Really?"

"Yeah," the swordsman kept walking, not detecting the question in your voice.

This had been an entirely avoidable situation, and to make it worse, it was getting dark and there didn’t appear to be a shelter anywhere, only the two of you surrounded by snow and a mountain, “…and where are we going?”

Zoro grumbled in response, “To the ship.”

“I know the Sunny has a tendency to stray, but I can’t really see any water nearby,” you grumbled back, the cold freezing your normally cheerier attitude.

Zoro merely looked over his shoulder, giving you a small side-eye as he walked, his hand relaxing on the handle of his sword. You decided silence was for the better until you would at least got some heat back into your body, feeling the cold starting to bite at your face.

Collecting branches as you went a while longer, you noticed a crack in the mountain wall, pushing a reluctant (only for show) Zoro towards it saying you finally found some sanctuary, the Sunny and proper sleep be damned. Zoro was glad for some respite too, but remained silent. The crack proved to be more of a cave, not too deep so you knew there weren’t any animals occupying the shadows, and just deep enough that snow didn’t reach all the way in, providing a dry ground to lie on. Zoro wasted no time in proving that, heavy body on the ground with his hands resting under his head.

“No complaints from you, then,” you chuckled before kneeling beside him, making quick work of the branches and magically getting a small fire going. Trying with all your might to ignore the smell of smoke filling the small cave, you looked to Zoro, seeing him already somehow comfortable, while the cold was still deep in your body. The tiny little campfire wasn’t enough to warm you up like you needed to, so it couldn’t be too wrong to ask your dear crewmate if he could share some of his body heat with you? Although, it was a request you had never made before.

“Zoro?”

A small hum came from him, his eye closed.

“I’m cold.”

Without even missing a beat, Zoro offered an arm and opening his coat, waiting for you to lay down at his side. He was used to being somewhat of a heater for the crew; and though he didn’t show it, he was delighted it was finally your turn. Yet, when all you did was lay flat on your back with just his arm as a pillow, the swordsman couldn’t help but look at you, his deep voice catching you off guard, “Not getting any warmer like that, are you?”

“….Not really, no,” at your response Zoro wrapped his arm around you to push you closer, your frame now glued to his side, his hand resting on your arm. And you sighed at how lovely it felt being so close to him, one of your hands laying on his abdomen - the placement making you feel almost needy. Small shivers born from excitement shot down your spine when you could feel the firm muscles hidden beneath his shirt, and your body started heating up, an ache forming in your core. And nothing had even happened.

You tried to close your eyes to force some sleep upon your exhausted body, but as you very well knew, once the ache start, it’d damn near impossible to get rid of. And having Zoro so near and so close… and so warm and damn muscular… your imagination ran wild with all the places one possibly could let your hands roam on a body, and what places the swordsman would enjoy feeling you. Better yet, what places he could touch you, and not limiting his resources to his hands - he had a more than capable mouth on him, accompanied by a tongue. Oh, he would get creative, wouldn’t he? His jaw had to be strong, if he could carry a heavy sword with it, what else could he slobber up with-

“Gonna stare all night?”

Apparently you had been too immersed in your thoughts to notice how you had been down right ogling him, and he gave you a small smirk, “Don’t stop on my account, seems like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Well, uh… there isn’t much else to do in a cave,” you laugh lowly, “have to find some form of entertainment, y’know?”

He quirked a brow at that, smirk growing, “Oh?”

And shit. The same damn smile and tone whenever you agree to spar with him; however, his eyes held an unfamiliar passion… no, hunger you hadn’t observed on him before. Before you could question him, Zoro had you trapped beneath him, his knees resting just beneath your rear, your legs slung over his hips.

“Getting restless with me, pretty girl?” Zoro teased down at your bewildered expression, “Didn’t know you found me so boring.”

His eye was half-lidded, full of desire, and having Zoro look down at you like that made the dull ache between your legs transform into a pulse, suddenly unbearable. And from the unexpected situation you found yourself in, your voice was small as you took in the sight of him, “Could never find you boring…”

Zoro hummed at that and leaned down, teasing you with how his lips were oh so close to yours, “Want something, sweetheart?”

He was relishing how easy it was to fluster you, glad you weren’t stopping his advances. And yet, he liked how fun it was to tease you. To see how your eyes flickered to his eyes for mercy, to his lips for passion, and down in impatience, your hands gripping his coat like it would vanish at your touch, “Zoro…”

“Hm?” he let out a small sound, humor clear in his gaze, “That’s not much of an answer.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek and you leaned your weight into his calloused palm, sighing loudly at his touch, excitement bubbling inside you at the otherwise wholesome contact, “I want you, Zoro… isn’t that obvious? Haven’t it been obvious for so long?”

If your confession surprised him, he didn’t let it show, instead he tilted your head, your breaths mixing and hot on your cheeks. Your eyes locked with his, his thumb softly caressing your bottom lip while he pressed his body tightly against yours, like it could never be close enough. And for someone who was wearing three layers more than he wanted, Zoro would probably want nothing more than to get rid of every- and anything separating you. And with a weak tug at his coat, Zoro chuckled before enveloping his lips with yours.

As his lips moved softly against your own, his musky scent filled your senses, making your mind foggy with desire for him. One that had been harboring and suppressed for so long finally escaped, making you unable to hold back the moans just from kissing him, your back arching off the ground to meet him better, moaning when his tongue swiped over your lips, eager to taste more of you.

“So needy, huh?” Zoro teased with a grunt into your lips, his hips grinding softly into yours, adoring the noises you were making for him. His hands fumbled with your coat and when you noticed, you joined in on it too, wanting to feel his touch on your bare skin, wanting him so impossibly near he could melt into you.

When enough skin was exposed, Zoro broke the kiss, both of you panting before he trailed kisses down your jaw, before continuing down your neck, helping you get your arms out of the coat. His warm tongue and eager lips sucked and licked on your skin while grunting, groaning as he humped softly against you, his bulge pressing deliciously against your still clothed cunt.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you gasped, hands brushing his short hair.

“Yeah, sweetheart? That feel good?” Zoro murmured into your neck, his hands pulling off your shirt, before his lips were attached to the slope of your breasts, pressing hungry kisses against your skin while taking struggling with the clasp of your bra.

You breathed out a small laugh, arching your back to help him, sighing when he finally got it off before you moaned loudly as his lips and hands worshipped your breasts, changing between suckling and palming them. You rarely saw Zoro so eager and curious, but each new reveal of skin, Zoro seemed to fall into an abyss of pleasure - gaining satisfaction just from touching you. He was also playful, his teeth lightly tugging at your nipple just to see and hear your reaction, growling lightly as your sounds met his ears.

When his hands reached your pants, Zoro leaned a little back on his heels, looking at you intently as he started unfastening them, looking at every single inch of newly revealed skin - planting a small kiss on the inside of your thigh while pulling your pants off completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your leg as he trailed his kisses, “been driving me mad…”

Zoro folded you in half, ignoring the throbbing in his knees from pressing into the ground, an almost wicked grin on his face as he eyed your underwear slick with arousal, “Such a dirty girl.”

Zoro licked at the wet spot, inhaling the smell of you, just as he had wanted to for so long. You moaned loudly, bucking your hip in instinct, hands finding his hair once more to tug at what you could. Zoro continued to work his tongue and lips against the cloth, stimulating your needy cunt enough to feel the pressure build inside you. Zoro hummed and chuckled against you, his chin glistening when he departed, “Fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart, and absolutely drenched for me.”

Zoro was drunk on lust, the taste of you better than any sake or drink in the world, any drop he could lick from you like pure nectar he was already getting addicted to. His fingers hooked themselves on the band of your panties, pulling them off while slobbering kisses on your thighs just close enough where you actually wanted him, making you whine his name and tug at his green strands. And not before your panties were thrown to the ground with an almost embarrassing slap due to being so drenched, Zoro didn’t give you a chance to breathe as he devoured you whole - his tongue flicking over your clit while his fingers played with your folds and teasing your entrance.

Writhing against your coat, you were whining and moaning at the sensations, adoring how his lips and tongue could barely decide how to worship you, switching between laying his tongue flat while licking through your folds, or using the tip of his tongue to tease, playing with patterns, before suckling and kissing on your folds, his thumb circling your sensitive nub. With Zoro experimenting with your pleasure, you wondered who was actually annoying themselves more; you or Zoro, him letting out just as many sounds of enjoyment as you were. Yet, when you felt yourself getting close to the edge, you were desperate for more, for everything that Zoro could give you.

“Please, Zoro,” you whined loudly, sweat starting to cover your body, “I-I’m getting close!”

Zoro gave no response, but plunged a finger into you without remorse, humming and grunting when you moaned as your walls contracted around him, continuing to kiss and suckle on your cunt, his tongue relentless on your clit, leaving your legs shaking as you neared your peak.

With each passing second you grew more sensitive, writhing and thrashing beneath his strong grasp as he forced the pleasure on you, adding another finger that reached and stretched so far you could only cry at the pleasure, feeling a string threaten to snap in your core at all the things Zoro was making you feel. His name was just pathetic blabbering rolling off your tongue as you were dazed in pleasure, yet his name had never sounded better.

Zoro continued the near-assault on your sensitive cunt until he felt your body shake and your walls pulse uncontrollably around him, your moans and scream silent as your orgasm washed over you, Zoro slowing down his movements to help you through the intense pleasure, groaning at the deathgrip you had on his hair. When you fell limp, Zoro’s mouth and fingers left you with a wet sound, before he dressed you well enough to lay you on his chest, his coat wrapped around you.

Getting lost wasn’t all that bad after all… getting back to the ship could wait until morning.

Note: As I said, this is my first time writing for Zoro, I'm sorry if he's very ooc.... Also I'm doing VERY shit kinktober this year and I'm so sad about it FUCK... Anyways, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it! If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here! Dividers by @/benkeibear

[saintclarkegriffin]

The 100 ended four years ago so I think I can confidently say that i'm forever going to be stuck between the denial phase and the anger phase. No accepting or moving on for me.

I mean for the most part I just pretend that season 7 never happened, like I block it out of my mind. But when I do remember it happened, I just get incredibly angry. And I know it's not healthy to still be this upset over a fictional show that ended in 2020, but I can't help it.

I think about how Bellamy was character assassinated and then killed off in the most brutal and stupid way possible, shot by CLARKE of all people, over a damn BOOK, that she didn't even take!!! I think about how he died all alone, without a chance of saying goodbye to any of his friends or his SISTER!!! I mean think about how crazy that is, Finn died but got to say goodbye to Clarke, Lexa died but got to say goodbye to Clarke not once but twice, Lincoln died but got to say goodbye to Octavia, Jasper died but got to say goodbye to Monty, Kane died but got to say goodbye to Abby and Indra, and Bellamy??? The male lead of the show Bellamy??? He dies and he doesn't even get to say goodbye to OCTAVIA??? The Blakes don't even get a proper final scene together??? And I get angry.

I think about how Clarke, the main lead of the show, was cast aside for half the season and then also character assassinated, turned into a selfish vindictive cold-blooded person who never learns from her mistakes and suddenly doesn't care about being the good guy or doing the right thing... even though the entire point of her character arc was that she was fundamentally a good person, selfless, altruistic and empathetic, who was forced into impossible moral dilemmas. But she never stopped caring!!! Making these impossible choices never got easier for her!!! Because she was good!!! But suddenly in season 7 she was turned into everything that Clarke antis accused her of being. And what's Jason's excuse for this? "Oh, well, if you think about it she was never the hero... she was doing awful things early on in the show, just against people we didn't care about like Mount Weather... In season 7 we put the audience in Mount Weather's shoes"... excuse me???? As if Clarke didn't try literally everything in her power to get her people back, without having to harm/kill the people in Mount Weather??? As if Clarke didn't decide to pull the lever only when she saw her own mother and her friends being strapped to a table to be tortured and killed for their bone marrow??? As if Clarke didn't feel distraught over what she had to do, to the point that she felt like she had to leave her people and be on her own in the woods for months??? As if she didn't have nightmares??? As if she didn't feel guilt and regret over Mount Weather and Maya up to freaking season 6??? And I get angry.

I think about how Bellarke, whether romantic, platonic or something in between, was the MAIN relationship of the show, with the most development and screen time. And that relationship was absolutely destroyed in the most contrived, spiteful way possible!!!! Jason had to character assassinate both Bellamy and Clarke to make it happen. That's how resentful of Bellarke and Bellarke shippers he was. Even though he was the freaking show runner!!! He had the power of writing Bellarke platonically from day one!!! But Bob and Eliza confirmed that they were told that Bellarke was romantic in nature, and that's how they performed it!!! Jason was the one who wrote 2x16 and 4x13, arguably two of the most important episodes for Bellarke... he came up with together!!! He took the head and the heart from the fans and put it in the show!!! He wrote Clarke calling Bellamy every day for 2,199 days!!! No one forced him to do that!!! But he did, and for what??? For Clarke to shoot Bellamy in the end and kill him??? Even if he didn't want to make them canon for whatever reason, he could've still written an ending that was respectful of their friendship and history in the show. But no!!! He had to destroy everything that made Bellarke what it was. And I get angry.

I think about how Octavia spent YEARS trying to get back to Bellamy, to see him again and tell him how much she loves him... And then in the second half of season 7, she just gives up on him??? She doesn't even TRY to understand what happened to him on Etherea, she doesn't talk to him, when Bellamy visits her and Clarke she just stands there with a disappointed face and doesn't say a word. And then when Clarke tells her that she killed Bellamy, she just hugs her and tells her that she understands??? And so would the old Bellamy???? The 'old Bellamy' she didn't even TRY to get back, the 'old Bellamy' she simply gave up on??? Literally every character from Octavia to Clarke to Raven to Murphy to Miller to Echo, had to be character assassinated so that Bellamy could die the way he did. Because none of them would've given up on him!!! They all loved Bellamy!!! He was the 'dad' of the deliquents and then the leader of Skaikru on the ring. But suddenly nobody cares about him, nobody tries to understand what happened to him or tries to change his mind, not even his SISTER!!! AND I GET ANGRY.

I think about how the message of season 3 was that 'pain means that you're alive' and 'you don't ease pain, you overcome it', and how it is better to live in an imperfect world than a perfect simulation. And then in season 7 there's Transcendence which is basically the City of Light 2.0, an immortal hive mind where there's no pain and no death. Just "peace" for eternity. But suddenly THIS hive mind is okay... because? Because the Judge and the other aliens (putting aside how ridiculous it is to introduce ALIENS in your show in the very last episode) are fair while A.L.I.E wasn't? There's nothing 'fair' about deciding which species is worthy of Transcendence and which isn't. Especially since the punishment for not passing the test is MASS GENOCIDE. And yet the Judge is portrayed as 'good' and 'fair' while A.L.I.E. was the one actually trying to ensure the survival of the human race!!! And don't get me wrong, A.L.I.E. was evil but in her methods, her motivs were actually morally sound compared to the Judge and the rest of the aliens. They only did what they did because they believed that they were morally superior to all other species, and if one species wasn't 'good' enough according to their moral standards, that meant that they deserved extinction!!!! "But at least with Transcendence you can choose whether you want to transcend or not, A.L.I.E. didn't give you a choice" bullshit!!! If you "choose" not to transcend, the aliens still take away your chance to procreate and have kids from you!!! They make you infirtile against your will!!! Your species still dies with you and your friends!!!! Why? Because some aliens said so!!! And that's supposed to be an happy ending??? Just because all the characters are smiling and hugging, it doesn't make this ending any less horrific once you think about it for like two seconds. And I get angry.

And finally I think about how the entire message of the show was NOT survival like Jason claims, but how 'life should be more than just surviving'. How 'life can be more than impossible choices and a tragic end'. How humans can 'be the good guys' and break the cycle of war and violence and tribalism. And in the end none of that mattered. Humans kept fighting each other up until the last episode and only stopped because they were being 'tested'. They got absorbed into a hive mind and they're going to be stuck there for all eternity, no lesson learned, no real peace gained. Our main characters, that we've followed for seven seasons, are going to eventually die, leaving nothing or no one behind. All the sacrifices, all the impossible choices they've made... completely meaningless, since the 'survival' of the human race was never up to them building a better world and society after all, it was always up to the morally superior aliens. I think about how they got to survive, but they didn't get to live. And I get angry... because I really loved this show and these characters so much... and they just... they deserved better. They really did.

[midnight-black2]

Ahh this is my first time requesting anything but I need prompt 5 for Farleigh 🙈

Imagine him being cocky for getting a higher score than reader and reader basically putting him in his place. 🫣🫣 (also i’m absolutely obsessed with your writing!!)

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : pretty much what the req says

disclaimers : sub!farleigh, dom!reader, public sexual intercourse (idk what this is called), handjob (m!recieving), slightly mean reader, degradation, ruined orgasm, probably more lol

note : thanks for the compliment ! hope you enjoy this '

it was by five points, five fucking points, and all farleigh did was torture you about it.

typically, you scored higher than him, mostly because you just straight up put in more effort. he couldn't care less about studying, he was just a naturally good tester. for this reason, he normally knew his place. but the one time he studied and you didn't, the one goddamn time. he wouldn't let you live it out, all he would ever do was talk about it, teasing you and making fun of you.

"wow Y/N, i think you're falling off," he stated, with a sarcastic, disapproving look. he was leaning over, hovering over your shoulder to get a proper look at your score. you were flabbergasted, you actually got a 95%. farleigh had gotten an 100%. if was quite literally embarrassing. that was when it first happened, but he didn't leave it there, oh no.

"ah-ah, don't you think i should skip ahead of you?" farleigh asked, his annoying voice startling you from your thoughts.

"what?"

"well i got a higher score, those have always been our rules." the thing you hated most was that he was right. it was also stupid because he made the damn rule, and you didn't care about being ahead in the lunch line one way or another. you figured the only reason he had done it was to make victory that much sweeter when he actually did score higher than you. so you stayed silent, letting him sit ahead of you.

and another incident...

"so if anyone here needs tutoring, don't hesitate to ask. our programs are specifically designed to connect students while effectively getting them to learn," mrs. abram spoke, as she handed out tutoring flyers.

farleigh shot you a glance, before mumbling your name, and covering it up with a fake cough. you groaned, with a sigh before frustratedly stuffing the flyer in your bag. he was being insufferable, and there was only so much you could take.

the final (notable) time he teased you, you two were partnered on a history project, the exact class he had excelled on the exam in. of course, just your fucking luck.

as he sat down, he had this complacent smirk on his face that you wanted to slap right off. he set the assignment papers down on the desk, and turned over to face you.

"well, i'm glad we got partnered, yeah? you probably need my help," he said, mockingly.

"jesus christ farleigh it was five fucking points! get over yourself!" there it was, you snapped. it was only a matter of time, though it just so happened to be in the middle of class. farleigh's smirk only grew, as if this was what he had wanted the entire time. the teacher had scolded you for cursing, and almost dismissed you from class. fortunately, you managed to stay, and the whole time you felt the urgent need to snap farleigh in half.

finally, after what felt like days, the class ended. however, instead of heading to the next class, you followed farleigh down the hall, before pushing him inside of some random storage closet. he was about to ask you what you were doing, he was about to leave...until you said something.

"what the fuck, farleigh," you uttered, coldly. he faltered, something in the way you sounded made him feel some sort of way. it was dark, and farleigh couldn't make out much, but if he had to guess, your expression would have been that of a deadpan, glaring into his soul.

"i don't get why you're so mad. i scored higher, and that's final."

"i'm mad because you don't know your fucking place." you spat back, inching closer to him.

"yeah? and what's my place, hm?" he questioned. his voice had an edge to it, but more than that he was genuinely curious.

"beneath me," you answered, no hesitation whatsoever. did you say it because that's what you actually thought? no. were you angry? yes. did you think farleigh would get off to it? also yes--and, he did. he did so much that he was developing a hard-on.

"you sure about that?" he asked, voice wavering.

"your dick is," you replied, gripping his cock in his pants. his knees buckled, and he let out the smallest whimper, that was nearly inaudible. "you're so pathetic, farleigh."

"yeah? well you're still gonna give me a handjob. so pathetic or not at least-" he cut himself off with a moan as you squeezed roughly once again.

"just shut the fuck up for once," you instructed, as you unzipped his fly. you, not-so-gently, took his cock from his boxers. his tip was an angry flushed red, and leaking pre. you chuckled at the sight, and he turned to face away, embarrassed.

you thumbed at his tip, and he whined softly. your fingers formed a circle shape, before sliding up and down at mid-pace. if you didn't want to miss too much of your next class, you'd have to make this quick.

"f-fuck, Y/N," he moaned, bucking his hips up slightly. you placed a hand on his hips to keep them pinned. you sped up your pace just a bit.

"is this what you've been wanting, farleigh? i really don't know how you got an 100% because all you seem to do is think with this stupid cock of yours," you said, as it was your turn to smirk this time. his head tipped back with a strained moan.

"shit, oh my god," he cursed, feeling himself grow close to an orgasm already.

"guess i should've done this a lot sooner, hm? really would've shut you up." your hand became brutal, but god did he like it.

"please," he said, not even sure what he was begging for. it was too much for him.

"please? are you serious? you take what i give you, farleigh." he whined at that, cursing under his breath.

"fuck Y/N, i can't-i...i think im gonna cum," he stammered, as his legs felt light, like they would give out any second. and just like that, you stopped. he whined, as you shoved his cock back in his underwear, and zipped back up his pants. you had left him with a raging boner, and he felt he could cry at that. as you exited the closet, he couldn't help but fear what he had gotten himself into.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello friend! I'm in love with your writing!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Idk if your requests are still open but I'd like to request something if you don't mind!

I LOVED the hurt/comfort/whump fic you did for Hunter. Could you possibly do something like that for Tech x Reader?

Maybe Tech and the reader are on a mission together or maybe they've crash landed somewhere or something. The reader is badly hurt and Tech has to take care of her and treat her wounds and save her and comfort her in his own special Tech way 😂😍

Oh @arctrooper69 what can I say? I mean ... I think a thank you is just not enough. You have made my day with this request, so I took my time to give it the proper respect it deserves. I hope you like it. If it wasn't exactly what you were looking for I do apologize.

Please note that you are always welcome to send in requests. As this is a special request, it will be stored in my One Shots & Mini Series Master List.

The story got a little away from at 1400+ words, but I hope it's close to what you wanted.

And who doesn't love Tech. I love this adorable nerdy man.

Love oo,

His Promise

Warnings: Snow, injury, blood, explosions, crash, grief, fear, anxiety, hurt, fluff, near death, feelings of being a burden, getting in the way, I think that's it. If I miss any, please let me know.

Please note the explanation of Snow, Tech gives, was taken from the National Snow and Ice Data Centre.

AO3 Link   |   OS & MS Master List |   Main Master List  

The wind was picking up, as the snow piled down and was doing everything in its power to keep you and Tech from being rescued. You looked at the snow as it came down in sheets outside the entrance of the cavern he found, mesmerized by its beauty. 

“It’s beautiful and so calming …” you said slowly, your body already weakened from your injury and loss of blood.

“What are you talking about?” Tech did his best not to let the slowness of your breathing or even the breathless way you were speaking affect him. His anxiety was already high, and his fear of losing you was nearing his breaking point. 

“The snow…” you kept watching the soft flakes float down as they gently landed on the ground, piling on top of one another, almost as though they were unable to survive without the comfort of those around them. 

Tech glanced up to see the blizzard which prevented you both from leaving. As he watched the speed of the wind, he calculated it would’ve been nearly impossible for Hunter to bring the ship close to them. As he looked at the used bandages already soaked through with your blood his fear only grew. You needed immediate medical attention, more than he could provide at the moment, or it would mean certain death for you to be out here any longer.

Frankly, he couldn’t stop picturing the way you lunged forward as the ship crashed. He was helpless to watch you, as your body fell forward against the console, as a piece of the console broke off and jabbed you in your abdomen. It all happened too fast and somehow in slow motion. He could still hear your scream piercing his ear as he pulled you off the console.

He tried to stop the bleeding right away, however when he went to look for the med kit, he realized only too late that it had fallen out of the shuttle when the engine and the side compartment blew. All he had left were his emergency bandages and gauze and they weren’t nearly enough. 

At that moment, he couldn’t care less about how beautiful the snow was or how calming the blizzard looked from inside a cavern, that he only had to find because that piece of osik shuttle decided to have a fuel leak, catching on fire. 

Within seconds he had needed to drag you out of the relatively warm and safe shelter you both had, grabbing what supplies he could before the ship blew up. Thankfully, he had been able to send a message to Hunter when the shuttle crashed initially. So it was only a matter of time before the Marauder showed up, but …

His eyes fell back to the bundle of used gauze, his anxiety climbing as he knew you needed more first aid than he could provide at the moment. You needed the Marauder, you needed his med kit that he carefully stocked and kept safe on board the Marauder. At this point in time, he didn’t care about any kriffing snow.

“Snow is an accumulation of packed ice crystals. The condition of the packed crystals determines a variety of attributes, such as colour, temperature and water equivalent. As weather conditions change, the packed ice crystals can change as well, and this affects the characteristics of snow.”

You chuckled at his ability to pull forth information like it was nothing. Unfortunately the chuckle turned to coughing. Only causing you to dribble more blood out of your mouth, you wiped away what you could. He didn’t need to see that, “Tech …” you coughed again, “turn off your brain for two seconds, don’t think and just look. Just watch.”

He pulled the heater closer towards you, “Stop talking and try and warm up.”

“Tech…” you held his hand, “just look.”

His eyes drifted up your body, till he locked eyes with you. They were pleading for him to listen and to just have him appreciate what you found mesmerizing. He tried to follow your advice, focusing on the snow, but all his mind kept drifting back to was this blizzard that was preventing you from getting the medical attention you needed, so desperately. 

He shook his head focusing back on your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. Trying his best to keep you with him. 

“Tech,” you gripped his wrist “… stop …”

“No.”

His tone was firm and full of anger, why did he agree to let you come with him? If he used his brain instead of allowing his feelings for you to dictate his actions, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Why did you always insist on following him? Why didn’t you just stay behind on Pabu? Simply because you wanted to see the galaxy, and he was excited to show it to you? It was his fault you were here. It was his fault you were in danger. It was his fault he … was going to lose you.

“Tech …” you squeezed his wrist. He removed your hand from his wrist, placing it off to the side as he focused on your wound. He didn’t deserve your touch, he didn’t deserve to have you comfort him. It was his fault you both crashed on this force forsaken planet. 

There was nothing you could do as you watched Tech pull away. 

From the moment you met him on Pabu, the way he worked with Phee as he helped rescue the villagers when the rogue wave was rushing towards the island, and the way he helped make everything more ‘efficient,’ you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. You wanted to learn from him, to listen to him go on with regards to anything and everything. Only problem was you never had the courage to actually utter the words you were dying to. Phee told you time and time again, ‘later’ was never a guarantee, and now as you lay on the cold floor of the cavern you were in, bleeding out of your abdomen, you realized how little time there was left. 

  Tears welled up in your eyes, as you realized you needed to unburden yourself. You needed to tell him what had been pressing on your heart before you didn’t have the strength to, it didn’t help that you were feeling weaker with each passing second. Also didn’t help that you could tell he was angry, actually a more accurate description would be infuriated, more than likely at you.

“I’m sorry.” You offered the only apology you could. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden, even now.” You took in a shuddering breath as Tech stopped moving his hands for two seconds as he focused on your face. “I’m sorry for always pestering you to teach me,” you offered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for not listening,” a tear slid down your cheek, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. To have to feel responsible for someone like me.” 

He shook his head, his teeth clenched as his anger, grief, fear, and sadness overwhelmed him completely in that moment. He pulled off his helmet and placed it beside him. 

“Stop.” It was his only command.

“Please, I …” you coughed again, trying to not cough on him. “I just want … I need to …”

He cut off your speech as his hand cupped your cheek, “Cyar’ika …” tears welled up in his eyes, “you were … are never a burden.” He couldn’t believe that’s what you thought of him… that’s what you believed he felt for you. He shook his head again as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I have loved every second we have spent together. I made a point to record every moment with you, because they were more precious to me than breathing.”

You held on to his bicep, keeping him close as tears streamed down your cheek, “Tech … I … I don’t want to go… I want … I want to stay here with you…”

“You’re not going anywhere. I just got you …” his tears landed on your cheeks, mixing with your own, “you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Hold me… please… just hold me until…I can’t feel your arms anymore.”

“I’ll hold you longer than that,” Tech pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he felt your body grow weaker. Your eyes were closed, your body was growing pale. He was so focused on you, he didn’t hear the voices calling out to him, at least not until he felt Hunter’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t wait, there were no more seconds to lose. He rushed towards the Marauder with you in his arms, he wasn’t going to lose you. He promised. He was going to bring you back.

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[jaywonjuice]

hiii! i saw your requests were open! i was wondering if you could write a jake drabble/scenario where the reader and him get into an argument and instead of making him sleep on the couch, the reader voluntarily does so instead and the aftermath (apologies) afterwards? hopefully that makes sense ☺️ thank you so much in advance and i’m looking forward to it!!

~ 🩵

aaa my first ever request !! :3 tysm for this, i thought it was a rly sweet idea and i rly rly hope you like how the piece turned out !<3

timeless. ~ s.jy

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre angst, fluff, oneshot

warnings verbal fight, physical contact, kissing, mention of drowning

wc 1.27k

[00:00] you watched as the alarm clock on your nightstand ticked over midnight and beeped into the darkness. you hugged your knees to your chest, feeling as if you were glued to this spot, huddled up in the middle of the bed. a lump began to form in your throat.

he forgot.

you and jake had been dating for a year now, and to be truthful, it was the happiest you had been in a long time. through all the low points he’d been there, from staying up to cuddle with you on the sofa after the long hard days at your stressful job, to wiping away your tears with his gentle touch, refusing to leave your side until he saw you smile again. you honestly had to pinch yourself sometimes to check you weren’t dreaming, that he was really yours - your gorgeous, sweet, golden retriever boyfriend.

but he forgot. he’d forgotten your one-year anniversary. and you knew that it shouldn’t matter to you so much but it did. you’d waited hopefully all day for him to text or call, and when your phone finally buzzed you’d rushed to read the message excitedly.

jake🩶

should still make tn but schedule’s running late, prob won’t get there til like half 12 xxxxxxx

your heart had sunk. you’d really thought he might have something special planned in secret, a surprise date at a fancy restaurant maybe, so you hadn’t brought it up just in case. but now you felt like a fool, hopes crushed. he clearly wasn’t thinking about you. maybe he just didn’t love you anymore.

your spiralling thoughts were cut off abruptly by the sound of the apartment door opening and then latching shut softly. shortly afterwards a shadowy shape appeared standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

‘hey baby,’ said jake with a broad smile. entering the room he flicked the lights on, casually running his fingers through his hair and letting out a contented sigh, as if he hadn’t just crushed your heart. ‘i thought you might’ve been asleep. why are you just sitting here in the dark?’

his smile faltered as he took in your expression. you were staring at him dully with tired eyes. he thought you looked smaller than usual, sat hunched there, blanket wrapped around your shoulders in the middle of the bed. concern flickered across his features. ‘baby, has something happened?’

you scoffed, turning away from him. ‘“has something happened?” no, actually, as a matter of fact absolutely nothing happened all day.’

he regarded you, puzzled. ‘baby i don’t understand,’

‘today was our anniversary, jake,’ you answered him cooly. ‘we’ve been together for an entire year and you didn’t even remember.’

you watched as the realisation crept over his face.

‘oh gosh, yeah, it totally slipped my mind!’ he furrowed his brow, thinking. ‘let’s go to the movies tomorrow, hmm? a proper date, to celebrate,’ he offered with a smile.

‘no,’ you shot back without a moment’s pause. ‘it’s not the same. we can’t just do it tomorrow. it won’t be special, we’ve missed our chance.’

‘what do you mean it won’t be special?’ he scratched his head, clearly growing frustrated with the conversation. ‘we’d be doing the exact same thing just on a different day, it doesn’t make any difference.’

‘jake, this was important to me!’ you were shouting now, unable to remain calm with how easily he seemed to dismiss your feelings.

‘hey don’t yell at me!’ he put his hands up. ‘we can just go tomorrow can’t we?! seriously what is the issue here, all i want is to just be with you-’

‘well i don’t want to be with you!’ you spat.

his jaw worked. something about his gaze shifted, and his eyes hardened. you knew then that you’d hurt him.

‘just forget it,’ you huffed, pushing yourself up off the bed and making to storm out of room. jake stuck his arm out to block the door. ‘look, if you’d just listen-’

‘forget it, i said,’ you repeated yourself, pushing his arm out of the way before adding, ‘you’re good at that.’ with that you left the room, your blanket trailing behind you.

.❦.

[11:44] when you awoke on the sofa the following morning, it was to a sore back and a throbbing head. it had taken you hours to fall asleep and you felt anything but rested. your cheeks felt tight with the stains of dried tears, and as you sat up straight the events of the previous evening flooded your mind.

jake. as you remembered the wounded look on his face at your hurtful words, your heart ached, adding to your long list of pains. ‘such an idiot,’ you groaned, head in your hands.

berating yourself did little to relieve your discomfort however, so you dragged yourself up off the sofa and made your way blearily to the kitchen.

as you reached for the medicine cabinet, something stuck to the fridge caught your eye. a little envelope was tucked under one of your little puppy fridge magnets. removing it carefully, you turned it over in your hands to find your name scrawled on the back.

you opened it up and read:

morning angel,

you know i’m not good with words, but i need you to know how much i love you, and how sorry i am that i hurt you.

i should never have said the things i said. i know now how important this was for you and i should’ve been more understanding from the start.

it’s not that i don’t care, honestly it’s quite the opposite. i just want to celebrate every day that i get to spend loving you. you see, i think we’re timeless baby, no matter how long i’m with you i’m always going to be crazily in love with you, until we’re old and grey. no matter when someone asks me, now or fifty years from now, i’m gonna be telling them that you’re my baby, forever and always.

yours,

jake

p.s. i’m really sorry this is all in writing and not in person, but i had things scheduled all morning that i couldn’t get out of :( i promise i’m gonna make it up to you

p.p.s. i’m also sorry for my atrocious handwriting (you’re right, it does kinda look like a drunk spider slipped in ink and danced across the page)

the sheet of paper trembled in your hands.

‘y/n?’

you looked up with a jolt to see jake stood watching you by the door, his face fraught with concern. your eyes filled with tears as they met his, and he dropped his bags to the floor and rushed over to you. he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you.

‘jake,’ you were sobbing into his chest now. ‘jake i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry.’

‘shhh, i know baby, i know,’ he stroked the back of your head gently. ‘i’m sorry too.’

still a sniffling mess, you continued ‘i do want to be with you, i want to be with you forever and.. i want to be timeless with you.’

you tilted your head up to face him, eyes shining. ‘please,’

he held your face in his hands as he leant in to kiss you, his thumb brushing against your cheek gently. the way he kissed you made you feel like you were both alive and burning all at once, like he was a breath of fresh air, like you were drowning. when he finally pulled away, he smiled, running his thumb along your puffy bottom lip, before replying softly ‘yeah, timeless sounds good to me.’

pls don’t hesitate to send me requests ! i love writing these sm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

[hoseoksluna]

A MILLION YEARS AGO | jhs

pairing: idol!boyfriend!hobi x f. reader 

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 4.6k

summary: when your faith in your healing wavers, hobi is there to go the extra mile for you.

taglist: join | playlist: million | cp: wattpad, ao3 | discord: join

warnings: near car accident, confusion in the body, iffy feelings towards an ex, seeing an ex for the first time in million years, being mistreated, religion, praying, oc smokes, hobi is the perfect boyfriend that i wish i had, oral sex (f. receiving), raw sexual intercourse.

note: i'm crying as i'm writing this because i'm so sad, but i promise this healed me more than i expected. as you know, i write little fics whenever something happens to me—and this is based off what happened yesterday. me and my cousin sat down at our smaller family event (not the one we had on friday, if you follow me on twitter), and she asked me if i were healed. and she told me about what she saw. i think it's meant to move me somewhere forward, otherwise i would've never got to see his face. i don't know. i hope you like this little fic, you know i had to write it out like i smoke out my feelings. i'm proud of this work in terms of the way it's written. think i kinda killed that. i love you guys. and i miss you, terribly. i love you.

side note: sorry for my vulnerability. a smaller side note: this is also for my baby @hoseokkie-caeks. i promised i would write a hobi one shot after berries, and here i am. <3 i love you, baby. miss you.

The night was dark. Too, too dark. 

I sensed it swathing my bones long before I glimpsed at something I should and shouldn’t have—or rather someone, to be proper. 

The trees remained unmoving, despite the summer breeze drifting through the macrocosm that unfolded with each and every footfall I shared with my beloved beside me. Hand in hand, we walked leisurely through streets that were prosaic until our energy imbued them with our intimate poetry. White swallowing, little by little, the dark. There was no one and everyone around us, but we didn’t see them; we merely saw each other, for we were in love and we deserved to be so. Hoseok after his hard, agonizing work regime and unfair treatment from his management and… the whole world essentially. Me after the way I had been treated, handled, tossed aside by the person I found inside the screen of a phone—inside a world that once used to be mine, but now is nothing but foreign. 

Million, million years ago. 

The stars were aligned just right, stringing together a shape of the wholeness and the throb of my heart, and we sat down to eat dinner with one of my closest friends that came to town—one me and Hoseok have settled in within the precious, year-long break that burst open in his work life. Hobi didn’t want to see people, at least not those who didn’t bear familiar faces, and I didn’t want to see the city, so it was the most fateful of compromises, most perfect of the kind that was naturally threaded between us; a conjoined idea that blinked within our brains at the same time. And the laughter that followed after we voiced it out at the same time, the long kiss that spread roots inside the pillows of our lips—to this day, it is a fond memory, or perhaps something beyond that, that embraces me at night before I enter the realm of dreamland, tugging me closer into the snug heat of Hoseok’s safe place that I regard his body to be. 

Though before we arrived, I gazed up at that constellation of me through the windscreen as Hoseok’s car began to make a strange noise that unnerved him. I prayed for its rightness to be true and I prayed for our safe travel, as short as it was. According to our previous plan, we were supposed to wait for my friend, Hyun-Ae, and her boyfriend, Do-hyun, outside of the restaurant because she had a strong yearning to jump into my arms upon seeing me. My excitement for that to happen ripped my eyes away from the nightly heavens, searching for her in the dimmed lights of the mutely lively building, in the shadowed greenery surrounding it, near the trees that didn’t move, yet my hair did. 

Strange, that dark energy. 

I hoped she was peeing somewhere, where the light doesn’t reach. She invariably had a tendency to chug everything she drank and her bladder paid for it each time—but this time, she wasn’t squatting by a bush. 

She almost didn’t get to me at all. 

A driver, merely minutes away from entering our town, nearly swerved wrongly into the traffic lane that Do-hyun was driving through, yanking away the stars from the canvas of the heavens. He had to pull over and take deep breaths in order to stabilize his mental state as the thought of almost getting in a car accident with her being in the passenger seat triggered his long-fought panic attack. And because the woods at the beginning of our secluded town doesn’t have any service, we waited for them for half an hour without any knowledge of their whereabouts. 

I bit my cuticles until they bled. Until Do-hyun’s lungs were lifted of its heaviness with Hyun-Ae’s help, his breathing evened out, and he was able to get behind the wheel and cross the distance. 

Upon hearing what obstacles stood before us, I didn’t understand it at first. Hyun-Ae’s yearning was gratified, we hugged until our necks ached and our arms quivered in our stifling, long-coming hug with her legs wrapped around me, ate the food we always ordered when we were together and not apart while she filled me in—but I didn’t perceive the darkness for what it was until that very last detail. 

One she wouldn’t provide until I promised her, a million times, that I was fully healed and ready to hear it. I didn’t know what she was about to uncoil, sitting beside me as she was, with her hands in her lap. But I should’ve known that those obstacles were put in our path for my preparation. 

Hyun-Ae hinted, before she began articulating her discovery, that it was about my ex-love. I stiffened a little, taken aback. I downed a shot of the spirits that we had left. And I was being tugged in two different directions, thrown to and fro, asked by the lawlessness of life to choose. 

Stay back and not go further—not let her tell me because Hobi doesn’t know the specifics about my last situationship. 

Ask her to hold my hand and give her the consent to proceed as my curiosity was piqued and my wound was healed, a million years ago. 

And in the short dwelling of the manhandling, my spirit of inquiry crowned, my fatal flaw. I chose the latter—because why would I not? I carry my heart in my chest for my beloved beside me proudly, for his waters mine with the fulfilling streams of his laughter and sound effects, gentleness and devotion. He has grown and nurtured monsteras within its past mutilated chambers—and the longer he cradled my life and made it his own, made it his endeared responsibility, the more healing flowers of wild, undomesticated origin bloomed against the verdure. The pair of us—Hobi, the elegant leaves with its perforation symbolizing the dimples above his mouth when he smiles; I, the chamomile that has the gift to make better, but everyone mistakes it for a daisy, tossing it aside. 

Everyone but Hobi, the worker who cultivated it in me. 

And caught in the snare of my pride, I wanted to know if my ex-love still remained in the exile of his emotional unavailability, fucking everything that walks on his solitary Pluto planet while I made love to the Sun three times a day, minimally. 

Hyun-Ae gripped my hand with her lukewarm, refreshing touch as she told me that he was dating someone, fundamentally poisoning the girl with his ways like he did to me. That she didn’t understand what I had seen in him as he looked worse than ever before, a characteristic of the unhallowed set deep within his eyes. My lungs refused to inhale any particles of air; they must’ve taken a break from their work in order to process, at their own time, the information that was given to them. The male who pretended to date me while I edged his planet for years, laboring myself in order to heal him with my prayers and words because I believed him after he said he loved me, but he needed to get right first. Needed to unload his baggage and bandage up the slashes across his heart from his previous relationship. 

All sweet nothing without an ounce of genuineness. He took pleasure from the way I stayed around while he hurt me again and again by entertaining other girls, my feet indented in the soft soil of the planet. It was a form of compensation for him. A some sort of merriment—and madness, unmitigated madness for me. 

I lost my mind, standing upon that edge. And I had to get off in order to find it again, my hands outstretched beyond me—held by the invisible fingers of God while he taught me how to walk again, how to walk in a gravity-filled space of greenery, the rainbows of colors, the rain and the sunlight like a baby. 

And I did. 

I walked until my feet stopped in front of Hobi’s.

At first, I felt a sheer wisp of happiness for the guy that he managed to make such an immense step in that direction, however it flickered in me for mere seconds, replaced by a doom of nothingness that began to swim in me. Heavy, heavy nothingness that felt cosmically peculiar—and my body urged me to go outside and smoke it away.  

But my mouth spoke first. 

Who is she? Show me. 

Hyun-Ae narrowed her chocolate pools at me, her brows furrowing until they darkened. Then, they flicked towards Hobi beside me and I followed her gaze—he was preoccupied with a heated conversation with Do-hyun and he didn’t hear a word shared between us. Hyun-Ae lowered her voice, nonetheless. 

So you could compare yourself to her? No fucking way. 

But I pushed. Driven by that nothingness in me, I desired to feel something. Hurt, pride—anything that would stir my body and give it what it asked. It was used to feeling great clouds of negative emotions in terms of the male, and now it was searching for it, in spite of the million years that have flown by since. And to shut me up and distract my mind from wanting the wrong things, she showed me a picture of him. 

And upon seeing that dark characteristic of his eyes, gone, hollow and dead from the laws and the ghosts of the Pluto planet, my stomach clenched and I averted my gaze. My body rejected him—I couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds. 

My good, smart body. 

I fell into quietness, more gravely than the one this town was weaved with. Hyun-Ae’s eyes returned to their original round size, softening on me, and I held her hand tighter. I needed, vehemently, to smoke the descending nothingness away, and when I asked her to go outside with me, Hobi reached the conclusion of his conversation. Wrapped his slender fingers around my arm, tender sound effects, only for my ear to hear, slinking inside as he rubbed his nose against the place right beside it. 

You wanna go smokie smokie? Hobi asked, gliding his fingers down my arm until he reached my wrist, the belly of his index tracing the blue and violet ‘V’ shape of my veins upon my left arm. 

He grounded me. 

I nodded, my smile natural, my love for him abounding, and Hyun-Ae encouraged me to go, gently slapping the side of my bum. And so I went, hand in hand, with him.

Our inherent, pristine characteristic. 

Hobi stole my lighter once I fished it out of my purse. He didn’t smoke, but whenever he joined me, he thought it gentlemanly and proper to light up my cigarette for me. It’s the least I can do, he had explained and I had kissed him so hard for it that he blushed. 

It’s what he does now, flicking his thumb upon the spark wheel until the small flame erupts and bathes us in a delicate, orange tint. I hold the cigarette steady between my lips with my two fingers and Hobi draws closer, appeasing my inner need. Waits for me to take that first drag before he prepares me for the rush of his enormous affection by heating the small of my back with his palm, rubbing the sensitive place. It’s something that I’ve learned he likes to do; take things slow so I open for him like a bud of flower. It gives him pleasure, the laboriousness of the process and the following harvesting, the dampness of my dew the evidence of his success.  

It’s extremely attractive because he does it more for my sake than for his own. 

He lets me take another drag, our visual connection a string stouter than the constellation up above, and I feel myself, nonvocally, giving over that heaviness of the nothingness with each exhale. I decompress and Hobi can see it, joining his other hand to my loins and dipping his head to my neck. He scatters tiny, weightless kisses upon that tenderness of me and I am lulled by his enticement, soothed and sleep-drunk, his pheromones and the cedarwood of his fragrance unfettering me. 

I want to take him to bed. 

And I tell him, innocently, with my hands that clenched the muscles of his arms rounding towards his pecs and lowering to his abdomen, the ivory smoke following my movement, but never touching him. Hobi knows this is my language of sensuality and his mouth parts as he feels the words. 

“We should go.” 

He lifts an arm and brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers lingering upon the shell of my ear—his private obsession. His endeared eyes study my features for a fraction of time before he leans in and peppers a singular kiss to the button of my nose. “Why are you sad, muffin?” 

The trees towering behind him move in a daze at last, but it’s a blurred swaying motion that merely divulges to me that the obstacles, the preparation and the dark energy have been conquered. And it helps me to speak a little. 

“Hyun-Ae told me something I didn’t really expect to hear. Can I tell you on our way home?” 

Hobi nods, cradling my cheek, and I melt. 

“I can leave the car here and we can walk home. And in the morning, we can go grocery shopping in the city.” 

I liquefy in his hold and I finish the last of my cigarette, kissing him feverishly and reciprocating the kisses he left upon my neck, sinking our domesticity into the column of his throat while he holds me and I drip into the fullness of him. 

When we return to the restaurant, Do-hyun is by himself, informing us that Hyun-ae has gone to pee. The familiarity solidifies me and I sense upon me a moonlit energy of joy that cleanses me of the past. Hyun-ae perceives it long before I open my mouth and she jumps into my arms, telling me how she’s proud of me. We say our goodbyes, promise that we’ll see each other soon, and Hobi pays for the whole table, calming every inch of me. 

I pray as we watch them drive off. I pray for their safe travel into the city and I pray over our car. 

We walk through our miniature, unlit version of the city, breathing in the purity of the air, listening to the rustling of the leaves being fondled by the breeze. Hobi mimics the act of love, rubbing his thumb over my hand, and I feel at ease when I tell him about my first love, chain-smoking just to help me infuse poetry into my words. 

With each detail, I forget it has happened to me as I unattach myself from it, consider it an element of the past that no longer has anything to do with me. Hobi lets me speak, doesn’t interrupt me, though I notice that as I venture into the brutality of the pain I waded through, his teeth grit and his jaw clenched, the preceding flush of his cheeks withering and falling beneath his skin, pallidness blanketing it in ashen gray. And it pushes me further into my process of letting go and forgetting for another million years to come. 

He stops in the middle of the road once I finish the story. Gives me a mournful look that penetrates me so deeply that I mourn, too. His hands find my forearms, my shoulders and my clavicles. Prepare me for the treasure of the most sympathetic of hugs I have ever received in my life and I loosen up in his strong hold, bury my face in his black-clothed chest as his palm holds my head to him. And he kisses my crown, kisses my temple; strengthens me when he squeezes me until I can’t breathe and I grasp that he is cleansing the pollution of the monstera leaves and the chamomile petals. 

And then he begins to speak, dampening me with a fresh layer of hydration. 

“You had to walk through hell in order to find me and I shall spend my lifetime bringing heaven to you. I swear on my life, muffin,” he says, for the entirety of the peripheral corn fields and the trees to hear, as he cradles my face and makes me look at him. My vision blears as I regard him more as my savior than I ever have before, nodding my head in agreement as my eyelashes flutter, the finality of calmness settling down in me like we did in this town. “You’re mine. You were mine when you were with him, which is why fate didn’t allow him near you. Mine to find, mine to take care of, mine to love, kiss and dance with. Mine. You’re gonna keep blooming in my hands and you’re no longer gonna pray for him, you’d done enough of that already. You’re only gonna pray for yourself.” 

This, I disagree with, dissolving sugar personified. 

“No, I’m only gonna pray for you.” 

Hobi pouts, his mouth rounding downwards, and his thumbs rub my cheeks, smearing my makeup—and I don’t mind. It’s always been his to ruin. He presses his nose and forehead to mine, breathing with me as the breeze swishes past. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel his skin, and Hobi sighs against me. Withdraws a tiny bit and steals the breath he gave me. 

“Teach me how to pray for you.” 

I’m so struck with awe, wonder and my genuine love for him that I cannot speak, my lung failing, though differently this time. They swell up with the essence of my feelings for him, my devotion and my besottedness that my eyes well up before I can halt their rivulets. No one has ever prayed for me, certainly not a male I loved and looked up to. I spent years having my empty prayers echoed back to me and now the love of my life, my eternal beloved one, asks me to teach him how to pray for me. 

Only the omnipotent Listener of my prayers could make this possible for me, and before I know it—my mouth gives my beloved the instructions, the contents of my knowledge that I learned along the trajectory of my somber, otherworldly life and then he’s whispering the voice of his heart into my ear. 

“Dear God, please give my muffin the strength not to be pulled back into the life she had before me. Make sure she’s not influenced by it either. Take her burdens and give them to me because I can bear them. Relieve her heart and make her happy. Use me to do it.” He withdraws and drags his thumbs across my eyelashes, asking me to open them and I do. Once he has my attention, he seeks my guidance. “What do I say now?” 

I huff a soft laugh, endeared. Kiss the edge of his hand. “Say thank you and amen.” 

Hobi grins and the Sun peeks through the night. “Thank you and amen.” 

My laughter gains volume and he wraps his lips around it, shushing me, kissing me madly, and I bury my fingertips into his short hair, reciprocating the different, different madness and expanding it. Weightlessness seizes me and I don’t feel my limbs, stupefaction firing me with enthusiasm and then tongues clash and the kiss gains a verve that forces me to collide my body with his and— 

And then we’re dancing. 

To a slow song he begins to hum with the deep raspiness of his voice. Our bodies are one, singular, intertwined as we move to the rhythm of our unified heart and I weep. 

I weep in my joy. I weep in my contentment—and I weep in my love for him. 

He touches my back all over, cupping my hair as if it was water, leading our bodies in the dance, and there’s no one around us, no cars coming, no animals to watch us—only the trees, the fields, the buzzing of cicadas and the breeze and the moon up above. And then he’s twirling me until I’m dizzy and my soft laughter reverberates through the spaciousness of the road that is ours at this very moment. And the Sun beams at me, my Sun, as he pulls me close and continues to dance with me. I feel the jealous shafts of the light of the moon digging into my back that I soon forget about because his lips pursue mine and I dwindle away into his magnetism. 

His hands, his pheromones and his cedarwood fragrance take me to his bed. 

And he’s feasting on me like the dessert he didn’t get to have at the restaurant, bent over as I am over the foot of the bed, my dress bunched in his fist over my loins and my panties pushed to the side. My hungry beloved, my parched Sun, nuzzling his face in my femininity while I drip my dew and moan his name for him. Sucking my clit, he keeps me hovering on the cusp of my orgasm and I tremble in my vulnerable position—face planted on the bedding while the lower half of my body is raised in the air for him. And once my throat begins to let out whimpers and incoherent pleas, he draws back, closes his body over mine until his lips explore my ear and there, there he teases me. 

“What was that, my little muffin?” 

I whine, grinding my ass into his groin, and he hums. It takes me back to his song and I apperceive that it is the only thing I ever want to be pulled back to. Reminiscent of it, his song is blackened by eroticism, by his enormous arousal, drenched by my dew and I need him. While I feel God, the Listener of my prayers, to be a glaring light in me, I need my beloved Hobi to be interwoven with it. 

“I want you inside me. Please, I need it,” I beg, twirling my hips against his hardness like he twirled me in the middle of the road and Hobi sucks in a breath, exhaling it in the form of a whimper and I stoop in my heady longing. 

Abruptly, he plops me onto my back and yanks my panties away. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?” 

I can only whisper my overwhelming agreement, my bones and my muscles too overcome with elation to do anything else. I would marry him tomorrow if I could. Go grocery shopping with him in the morning, unload it at home, put on my white silky dress and go to church with him by midday. Spend the rest of the day celebrating our union in bed, round after round until we get so exhausted that we submit to slumber, dreaming of our wedding, reliving it. 

He takes off my dress, kisses my forehead, ruffles my hair around me, his thumb dragging across the skin beneath my lower lip as if he was fixing my smeared lipstick for the special day, getting me ready, and I change my mind. I would marry him right now if I could.  

And I tell him. 

“I would marry you right now.” 

His eyes wet, casting a glimmering light upon my naked form, and a paroxysm of his joy gushes out of him and onto me. Hobi tickles my tummy with butterfly kisses, holding me down with his strong hands that he soon pins above my head, leveling with me, my dew drying on his face—yet he still glistens. Glistens with a gleam of bliss that washes over me. 

“Then, let’s get married,” he murmurs, and seizes my lips with his own, kissing me so roughly that I instinctively open my legs for him, the heated pressure in between unbearable. And then he holds my wrists in one hand while the other unbuckles his pants, fisting his length and tugging on it. My favorite sight. He guides it to my sopping hollowness and with one hard thrust, that he knows I am wholly enraptured by each time, he sheathes himself inside me all the way, completing me. Rests at the delicate touch of our mounds. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve and then I’m gonna take you to church.” 

And he gives it to me. Doesn’t pull out fully, but pounds me into the mattress. One hand gripping my wrists together, the other my jaw—ascertaining that my attention doesn’t fluctuate but remain fixed on him, on the twists of his features, on the guttural moans, his pheromones and his fragrance that trickle out of him and dunk into me while I struggle to take it all. 

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, kissing my cheek and breathing against it, slowing down his strokes that scramble my brain. The tip of his cock grazes my cervix and I lose, I lose my identity. 

My eyes flutter and he pries my mouth open with his thumb, providing me something to focus on as I intuitively suck on it, keeping my head afloat enough to answer. 

“No, it’s just too big.” 

Hobi hums, rewarding me with a peck on the mouth and the gradual speed of his thrusts. “You can take it, muffin. I know you can. You’ve shown me before.” 

The praise, the belief in me—it all crests in lowest part of my sexuality and again, I edge around the cusp of my orgasm. Beads of perspiration line his forehead, soaking his hairline and he’s a sight to die for, the final piece to the fulfillment of my release. Blush reddens his cheeks, his irises enlarged and digging into mine. He doesn’t falter, continuing with his fast rhythm and I moan out poetry lines that make him squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

He groans. “Uh-huh, come for me, muffin. Give it to me. Show me again how well you can come on my cock. Yes, yes—”

Pluto bursts and ceases to exist. I come so vehemently that my spine arches off the mattress, colliding into Hobi’s chest. I shun out all constellations, all planets, the entire universe collapsing under the weight and gravity of my orgasm and our own marble, green, yellow and white with no one around but us, is called to creation with the bloom of Hobi’s own climax. 

He stuffs me full, my hollowness and my mouth, kissing me so hard that I become dizzy all over again. Moans my pet name as he shoots out his ivory love for me, fucking into me sluggishly while the twitching of his cock enamors me even more. I swallow his voice, swallow his grunts and little curses. My iridescent, entranced spasms caused by his exuberance prolong until I don’t know where my head stands, where my legs are wrapped around or what body part of his my hands clench. 

My savior, my beloved, linked to me for all eternity. 

This must have been our wedding because I shall never be the same again, my mind and my heart swept clean and filled with brand new oxygen. I no longer remember what happened prior to our love-making and when I share that with him, Hobi is possessed with the need to do it all over again. 

And he does, a million times over, until he marries me in the church of our town, with Hyun-Ae and Do-hyun present, mine and his parents and his sister with Mickey. 

A wedding most perfectly extraterrestrial, on our own Hope planet, with nothing hurting, with no thoughts resurfacing. 

Me and my beloved, me and my savior, me and my Sun. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild ,  @jjk7k ,  @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah , @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

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