#one does not simply leave the rooftop

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[salem-witch-slut]

These Trembling Hands(18+)

Sevika X Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of past sex (very minor), breast fondling (also pretty minor), only rated 18+ because dirty things were mentioned. Pretty tame overall. Brief mentions of SA of a minor (TRIGGER WARNING)

WORD COUNT: 4K (EXACTLY OMGGG)

A/N: This is a sequel fic to my Prostitution kinktober prompt. I loved it too much to hang it out to dry. And damn, you guys are eating that fic up. Over 1K notes in 2 days. Bunch of whores, the lot of ya!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

You had heard rumors of Silco being killed, but that was all you heard of it. You could see from your shitty home terrace deep in the underground of the Undercity. People were scared, things were chaos, and the gangs were at war with each other. Without their leader, the Zaunites were rogue and killed whoever they saw fit. Luckily for you, you weren’t exactly a target as a brothel employee. 

It was more valuable to keep you alive, and everybody knew you were loyal to one Zaunite in particular that even after everything, she’s still as powerful as ever. Still a force to be reckoned with, but does not act unless prompted to. 

Sevika hadn’t been back to see you since Silco’s confirmed death. You simply assumed she had far too much work to do as the leader of keeping the peace between the gangs. Which was insane, because peace talks were never her job.

You hated to admit it… Oh, fuck that, you would scream it from the rooftops. You missed Sevika so bad. You missed her touch like it was what kept you alive. She saw you nearly every single week before Silco’s death and now the only way you know she’s alive is from the whispers on the streets. 

Every day you would come in and hope for her presence, but you were never lucky. You never got to see her handsome face and your body begged for an actual release, or that cool metal from her cybernetic arm. You loved the chills you got from the sharp talon like fingers raking over your rear and leaving marks in your skin. 

God, you missed her. You missed her husky voice, how she held you when you came on her fingers, how she encouraged you to bite her, the praise she gave, mixed with degradation… You were addicted to Sevika, and it was embarrassing. 

The entire staff knew about your obsession with her. She once left a handkerchief of hers in your room after she used it to wipe the sweat from her face and you kept it. Oddly enough, it smelled just like her and you simply enjoyed having it in your presence. Sevika made you feel wanted. Was that so wrong to love?

You kept it with you all the time. You had it in your pocket even as you walked into work that day. 

It was just like any other morning as you entered through the backdoors and got set up in your assigned room that you had, over time, personalized to fit your personality. You had a thing for dark candles and burning herbs that had been known to have relaxing properties. It made your life much, much easier and Babette encouraged it so you wouldn’t need to call out of work once again for your bruised cervix. 

You chewed on your thumbnail as you sat yourself down, prepared to get dressed in your signature outfit of dark colors that the clientele loved, when the curtain pulled back to your room without warning. Your entire body went rigid as you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat. 

She came back! You tried to not let your excitement show as you stood up from your seat, cursing at your frumpy outfit. Baggy sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt that kept you warm in the dark underground city. Your hair was a mess and you hadn’t done your makeup yet but she barely even blinked as she stood in the doorway. 

“S-Sevika, I–” You stuttered, looking at the cloak on her shoulder and then up to her face… Oh, she looked so, so tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, partially bloodshot and her cheek was cracked, evidence from the overuse of shimmer from her cybernetic arm. She had a fading bruise on her brow, and healing cuts over her neck and near her cheeks. “Sevika?” 

The tall woman finally made eye contact with you and you watched her toss off her cape and throw it to the floor. You noticed her arm was missing, and there was a frayed wire sticking out of the socket. It looked like it was ripped out of the mechanics on her shoulder as she slowly approached you and made you stumble backwards until your legs smacked into the bed. 

Sevika watched you fall onto the bed, your face turning pink as she let out a long, big sigh and got down on her knees. For a second, you thought she was going to eat you out… But then you simply felt her head rest on your thighs and her arm wrap around your waist. 

“Sevika, are you–”

“I’m tired,” She said, her voice wavering and cracking. You could smell the alcohol on her body and you could feel your heart almost breaking for her. “I’m so… so tired…”

“Oh honey,” You cooed softly, your hands reaching up and gently rubbing at her scalp. The crime lord visibly relaxed, feeling you remove the hair tie from her brown strands as you slid it on your wrist and raked your fingernails over her head. “You must be just exhausted… You’ve been doing everything out there.” 

“Shit never stops,” Sevika pushed her nose into your thigh. “It’s always something… Someone is always getting killed, and I have to fix it. I used to be the one with the blood on my hands, and now I’m cleaning it off someone else’s.” 

“I know,” You said, combing your fingers through her hair. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“What I did,” Sevika scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now… It’s just me holding it together.” 

Words seem to fail you as you simply rubbed at the back of her neck, one hand sliding from her hair and down the back of her shirt, nails crossing over her skin and making the muscular woman shiver in your hold. This was completely different from what you two had grown used to. 

Normally, Sevika would be making you scream at this point. She would stretch you on her fingers and praise you as you pulled on her hair and called out her name like it was the last thing you would ever say. But now? Sevika was too exhausted to do anything… Why was she here then? Why not at her home, sleeping?

You sat there with her for almost ten minutes, simply playing with her hair and rubbing her back. After a while, you could feel her breathing get a bit heavier and you frowned, looking down and seeing how she was almost asleep in your lap. 

“Sevika,” You said gently, feeling her hand flex in your shirt as she looked up and then visibly relaxed at seeing your face. You smiled sweetly before scooting back on the bed and removing your sweatshirt. You flopped backwards in your plain white tank top before patting the space next to you. “Come here.”

“Y-You know, this isn’t what I pay for,” Sevika stuttered, her ears going pink for a second. You had never heard her stutter before! It was adorable. You simply rolled your eyes and reached out with both hands, undoing the fasteners on her shirt. The woman’s breath hitched as she went tense for a second, her hand reaching for your wrist out of instinct. “What are you–”

“Just relax,” You spoke softly, reaching up and sliding the shirt from her body down onto the floor. Underneath was a simple black stained shirt with tears near the collar. You scooted back once again and patted the mattress. “How long did you pay for this time?”

Sevika hesitated as she sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching down and undoing the buckles of her boots. “All day?” 

You chuckled, rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around her waist. Sevika looked down, used to being able to reach down with her cybernetic arm but now it was simply phantom feelings. 

In seconds, you two were crawling into bed as Sevika immediately wrapped her arm around your waist and pushed her head against your soft chest, basking in your warmth and listening to your heartbeat. 

If there’s one thing you didn’t expect from today, it was this. You were expecting another hard, rough day with no rest and no breaks between clientele, but this was a very, very pleasant surprise. Your hands stayed put, rubbing at her back and holding her forearm that was draped across your middle. You could feel her breathing become more heavy, and you simply looked down before smiling.

She looked so peaceful… Her lips were parted slightly, the gap in her front teeth more prominent as she breathed heavily, a snore escaping her as she dug her fingers into your side. It was then that you realized something. Something that you definitely should have realized before after all these months with Sevika being your favorite client– No, favorite person.

You felt something for her. It went beyond simple affection or fascination with the woman. It was every time you saw her come in. You felt your heart skip a few beats and you were wrapped up in her arms almost immediately. Sometimes she stops by just for an hour, sometimes she’s here for almost four hours. But no matter how long, she never neglected your feelings. 

Sevika was a rough lover, but she was so good at taking care of you, even if her aftercare was slightly condescending. She would wipe you off while calling you a messy whore. She would wrap a blanket around your shoulders while gently slapping your cheek. She would laugh at you as you lay in the pile of pillows on the floor, but still managed to get you water if you asked nicely. 

And yet, even after all these months, there was one line you two had yet to cross, no matter how badly you wanted to. It felt too personal… A big jump between client and lover. Sevika couldn’t possibly see you like that. She pays for this. She has never attempted to see you outside of working hours, and you were sure she could easily find you. Not like you went anywhere outside of work and home and the occasional food stop. 

The thoughts plagued your mind as you watched her sleep on your chest, seeing her lips move as she mumbled something and pushed her face deeper into your tits. You raked your fingernails slowly over her back, being gentle enough to keep her sleeping, but not so light that it tickled and woke her up. You were fully content with being like this all day long. If she paid for an all day session, this would be more than enough to keep you happy. She didn’t even need to touch you to make you happy. Sevika being here was good enough for you.

As the time went by, you could feel your eyes growing heavy with every passing second. You wanted to close them so bad, but every moment with Sevika felt precious to you. You wanted to kiss her. You had never been able to do that before… you wanted to so badly, it was eating at your soul and making your heart race. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and part of you felt like you would throw up, but it was simply eating at you.

Would she push you away? Would she refuse to come back? Or worse, would she retaliate? It felt like Sevika liked you too beyond just a body to play with, but you weren’t sure… Well, asking was out of the question. You knew words would fail you and you would sit there stumbling on your sentences like a moron. This was your only option.

Very carefully, you slid down the mattress and felt her lift up her head so she could rest it on the pillow as you moved. Sevika made a face of disappointment as she opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to readjust to the soft lighting of the room. From this close, you could see how the candles reflected off her irises and you could see the flecks of purple around the corner from when she would use shimmer. 

She stayed quiet, simply looking at you as you slowly reached down and grabbed at her hand. Her brows creased, seeing your slight distress and scooting herself slightly closer. Her body heat had your breath hitching. “What’s wrong, doll?” 

Fuck, that nickname made your heart flutter. It felt like a rabbit was kicking at your chest behind your ribs as your hand slid up the length of her arm. You could feel the muscles underneath flexing, almost like she was teasing you on purpose. Her body was solid muscle and all strength; with sharp edges and tough skin. You loved every single inch of her. 

“Sevika, I–” You tested your voice, and felt it crack like glass. Your face went pink as the smirk that did reside on her face slowly began to vanish. The silver irises glinted with confusion. She was genuinely concerned now as she saw, and felt your hand shaking as it slid up her arm and carefully rested on her cheek. 

“What are you doing?” Sevika asked, her voice barely above a whisper. You blinked slowly, biting your lip before scooting closer. 

A moment passed, and you simply couldn’t take it. “Screw it.” 

You grabbed the back of Sevika’s neck under her hair and pulled yourself upward, your lips finally connecting with hers. The woman went stiff, her entire body rigid against yours as her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. A noise you had never heard from her before. It made your legs press together as you refused to breathe until you separated from her. 

It scratched an itch deep in your brain that you didn’t know was eating at you. It felt like a hot shower after a cold day. It was like breathing after being underwater. It was everything you had expected… Minus Sevika not reciprocating… 

When you broke off from her lips, you saw that she was laying there in pure shock. Her eyes were wide and the hand on your hip twitched as you looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. You were worried now. She looked almost upset with you as you refused to meet her gaze, scared of the repercussions. 

“I’m sorry,” You said, close to sobbing. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to overstep and I was just– I don’t know what I was–”

Your words were cut off as Sevika gently tucked her knuckle under your chin and tilted your head back up to meet her eyes. And you saw her cheeks tinted a soft pink and her eyes were sparkling. And that was the last thing you saw before she was jolting forward and recapturing your lips like she couldn’t live without it. 

Instantly, your hands went around her neck and you pulled her close, drowning in everything that was the woman named Sevika. How intense she was with every aspect of her life and how she gave 100% with all her actions, and that included kissing. Her tongue gently teased at your lips and you responded with your own, pressing it against hers and slipping it passed her teeth. 

Sevika groaned, grabbing at your hip and pressing your entire body against hers, allowing you to feel how warm her skin felt on your own. It was like touching a livewire; you couldn’t break away even if you wanted. You couldn’t get enough, and you wanted more. So, so much more…

Your stomach twisted in your gut as you began sitting up off the bed and before you could stop yourself, your legs moved until you were sitting on Sevika’s hips, holding her down and breaking off from the kiss for a brief second. 

There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was challenging you. Her brows knitted together as she panted, her hand curling against the bedsheets and her chest rising with each harsh inhale she took. Dear fucking Gods, she was sculpted by deities you didn’t even know existed. Her taut abdomen sucked in with each breath and you saw the outline of her abs through the shirt riding up on her waist. 

Maybe someone else would have been put off with her only having one arm, but you didn’t care. It didn’t diminish her strength, and she could fair fine without it. Even with just a hand, she was able to break you and you would thank her. 

“Someone’s being bold today,” It was that same flirty condescending tone she used with you all of the time. You ate it up as your fingers traced down her chest, between the valley of her breasts before stopping to trace a few little patterns into the flesh showing below her shirt. You felt her abdomen tremble at your touch, and you smirked. “Get that smile off your face.” 

“I can’t help it,” You said, fingers twitching as you reached forward a little more and began sliding her shirt upward to expose her stomach and staring at her chiseled muscles in full view. Your breath hitched and you felt your toes curl up. “So perfect…” 

Sevika groaned, putting her hand over her face and covering her eyes. Almost like she was embarrassed of your words, but that would be silly. Sevika doesn’t get embarrassed. She isn’t capable of that. Is she? 

The veins almost popped in her forearm as she grabbed her face, feeling your soft, uncalloused fingers stroke along her ribs and slide up even more. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as you breathed hard, licking at your lips. This was a huge moment for both of you.

You had never seen Sevika without a shirt before. Never seen all of her and hardly ever got to touch her like this. You felt like you were in control. This was insane. 

“S-Stop me if it’s too much,” You said, voice wavering as you pushed the shirt up the rest of the way. Your insides damn near melted at seeing her breasts for the very first time. You had a feeling it was just as strong as the rest of her, but you didn’t have proof until now. And another suspicion you had? Yes, her nipples were pierced. You fucking knew it.

“You done?” Sevika snapped, looking down at you and narrowing her eyes. You blinked, not realizing just how long you were staring at her until she knocked you out of your stupor. “Not some sideshow attraction here, doll.” 

“Really?” You chuckled, reaching up and cupping her breasts with both hands. “Because I think I should be paying to see you.” Your fingers traced over her piercings and Sevika gasped, her body jerking towards your touch like she was desperate for it. 

Sevika was a vision. And you were desperate to see more. 

It wasn’t long until you were reaching down for her belt and unzipping her pants when she reached out with her hand and grabbed at both of your wrists. You immediately stopped, looking down at her and seeing the wild look in her eyes and how her body was almost on the offensive. 

“Wait,” She pleaded. Your heart broke. “Just… just wait, please, give me just a minute.” 

“Sevika,” You frowned, releasing her belt and scooting closer towards her. Something was off about this, and you just had to know what was going on. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” 

“It’s just that… I just…” Her entire face fell as she sat up and dropped her head down. Her hair covered her face as you reached forward and pushed it away to look at her. “No one has done that before. I haven’t… let anyone touch me like this.” 

“Honey,” You cooed, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Sevika pressed her lips into a thin line and looked up through her lashes, the bruises under her eyes more prominent from this angle. “Talk to me.” 

The woman scowled. It was an internal battle for her to admit any of this, especially to you. Sevika knew how you saw her, and this was just crossing some kind of line in her mind. You saw her as a strong, unmovable force that could never be injured or taken down. You saw Sevika as a god, and she was about to shatter that illusion. 

“It was when I was a kid,” Sevika admitted. “I was a scrawny little shit, you know? A gutter rat… an easy target,” For a brief second, her eyes watered but she blinked it away. “I didn’t stand a chance back then.” 

There was a moment of confusion before the pieces clicked into place and you felt your entire body go rigid. You felt sadness, empathy, compassion… rage. Pure, blood-boiling rage as you pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. You couldn’t show your anger, but you wanted to hunt whoever it was down, and watch them bleed out slowly. How could anybody do that to her? To a child?

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Don’t,” Sevika looked away immediately, her lips curling into an almost snarl as she looked down at the sheets, trying to distance herself. You tried not to flinch as you scooted back in the bed and gave her space. “I don’t tell people shit for that reason. I don’t need pity. I don’t want it either.” 

“Okay,” You bit down on your lip, tucking your legs under your body and putting both hands on your thighs. Sevika noticed your sudden change of attitude and she stood up from the bed. Before you could ask what she was doing, she started pacing back and forth, rubbing at her jaw and trying to sort out her thoughts. You sat there silent, scared if you said a word that she would snap and the moment you two shared would be over. 

It was almost three whole minutes before she stopped pacing. You felt like you were trapped in a cage with a wild animal. So unpredictable and volatile, but just scared of what you could do to them and they feel the need to defend their existence. Your heart went out to her, and you wish you could take back your actions because now everything was shattered, just as you feared. 

“What the hell are we doing?” Sevika muttered into her hand. She turned to look at you and saw that you weren’t looking up at her, and almost like it was happening in slow motion, a tear slipped down and splattered onto your leg. You didn’t look up… until she said your name. Your real name, not a nickname or pet name. 

“Look,” Sevika said, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take your face in her hand. You leaned into her touch and held back a whimper. “This all got out of hand… Somewhere between us, the lines started blurring. Went beyond me paying to fuck you–”

“You’re not coming back,” You shivered. Sevika visibly recoiled at your words. “Are you? I ruined this, and now you won’t come back again.” 

“Hey now,” The woman immediately grabbed at your chin and forced you to look up. “Don’t put words in my mouth, doll. I never said that.”

You whimpered. “Then… What are you saying?” 

A gasp left you as she pressed her lips into yours once again and sighed, her hand tangling in your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck. It was just as fucking amazing as before and you were visibly upset when she broke off.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know? We just… have to keep this quiet, understand?”

“You mean,” You said. “Like a secret?” 

“See?” Sevika chuckled before kissing your cheek. “I knew you weren’t dumb, sweetheart.” 

[glamourscat]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. My Love Mine All Mine - Shidou Ryusei ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Content: illusion to a bad childhood and trauma but nothing explicit has been discussed, mention of reader wearing glasses synopsis: a "poetic" way of how Shidou realised he was in love with you and the implications of so love

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Cause my love is mine, all mine… I love mine, mine, mine.

It’s true that in this world, in this life, nothing is free. From what we consume to what we do—everything has a cost. Nothing is free, nothing is certain. And Shidou knows a thing or two about the latter. Growing up in a rough, violent environment where love was a conditional act, he knew from an early age that, yes, in fact; love is conditional. Some people choose to love you because you are pretty, others because you are useful to them, others even because they are selfish enough to open their hearts to the unknown aspects that life has to offer.

Still, it’s one’s capability and choice to love.

And Shidou had not been loved by his parents, not that he could say his parents loved each other to begin with. Their love was a transaction. It was not love when he was screamed at for colouring on the table as a kid and thus punished. It was not love when they forced him, unbeknownst to his young mind, to steal to survive life because of their poor income. It was not love when two selfish souls decided to bring and “raise” a child in extreme poverty, giving him a setback in life. It was not love. Every slap, every shout, every kick. It was not love.

Cause my love is mine, all mine… I love mine, mine, mine.

Love is not the possession of another. You might have birthed your child, but they do not belong to you. What belongs to you is the love you have for them; that’s all you have. The thing that most do not, or fail to, realize is that love is a deeply human experience. The profound realization that you, as an individual, have the ability to feel a certain way about someone is deeply intersected with the complexity of being human.

Shidou’s childhood was an endless expanse of longing and confusion. Every harsh word, every dismissive gesture carved deep wounds into his young heart, leaving him longing for affection, for understanding. The humane instinct to be free and simultaneously to be freed. In the silence of his room, when night came and he was left to his device at times with shedding tears, he would often wonder what it meant to be loved, to be cherished. But such thoughts were fleeting, quickly swallowed by the harsh reality that surrounded him.

And then, you appeared. Such a contradictory thing. Gentle as the caress of the wind on a summer night and yet loud and firm as thunder during the coldest winters. At first, he didn’t understand you. You were kind, sincere and in a way like him. Honest in your thoughts and words, barely sugar-coating them and yet he couldn't say you were violent. Still, his heart, conditioned to mistrust, shut off at the unfamiliar warmth you brought.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

One evening, you had followed him on the rooftop of the team's base; not that you would admit that. The untouched camera remained in your hands, as you two sat together on the rooftop, he looked at you. “Why do you stick around?” he asked, his voice rough, almost challenging.

You smiled, but it was not a mocking smile. It was challenging, the good kind. As if to say 'dare try to tell me I am wrong.' "Not that I need an excuse to, but simply because I want to." you shrug as you lay on the rooftop staring the mix of colours in the sky "I think you're worth staying for."

He scoffed, but there was a crack in his bravado. “You must be blind, then.”

“Perhaps. I do wear glasses after all" you say with a hint of a foolish smile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

He began to understand love in the simple act of being seen, being heard. That freedom he long waited for, that need of explosion to be seen, had arrived. He does not know exactly how and when it did. He just knows that he started to recognized love in the comfort of your presence. How you stood by him, unwavering, even when his past threatened to pull him back into the abyss. You challenged him, yes, but with a gentleness that was foreign yet profoundly healing. You put him in his place when needed to, but you always did it in such a way that made him want to become a better person by the end of it.

He saw love in your dreams, your passions, and the way you lit up when speaking about them. It mirrored the fire he felt for football, a testament to the unspoken bond between two souls who dared to dream despite the odds.

Cause my love is mine, all mine… I love mine, mine, mine.

And now, Shidou, understands that love is not something to be given or taken, but something to be felt, deeply and unapologetically, within oneself. And no one can take his love away from him. Even during the hardest days, he knows that he has a choice and that choice is to love you.

© GLAMOURSCAT(all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[eevees-hobbies]

ume devours pussy like he's been starved for days on end (he couldn't see you for a few days) and bonus points if you're actually a plaything for furin , so he'll do a pussy inspection first >-< - 💌 anon <3

Author’s Note: Hi, 💌 Anon! Welcome back 💕 I Just realized that I didn’t mention Sakura in this entire piece, and my heart hurts because of it, lol. Anyway, I’m snatching my bonus points thank you very much! I love the idea of being used by Bofurin; like sign me the fuck up! Trains go choo choo! Lastly, please don't clock me for the name of this little fic haha. I realized I don't have a banner with just Ume, and I was like, "might as well!"

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. You’re Bofurin’s girlfriend to be shared and loved by all, mention of sexual activities with others, fem! receiving oral, mentions of eating ass, but I spared you THIS time, some dirty talk, pubic hair mention, sorry to the two Nirei fuckers out there, I’m sure he eats pussy like a champ—Tis smut. Minors Don’t Interact. 

Word Count: 1.9K

Divider by Saradika. Banner by me

One qualification for a good leader is being unselfish, and Umemiya embodies that virtue perfectly. 

When he took on the role of leader of Bofurin, he knew that it would involve quite a bit of sharing that had the potential to test anyone’s patience. But as though it’s his calling—and it most definitely is—Umemiya willingly shares wisdom with those ready to receive it and, most importantly, shares his most limited resource: his time. He’s never had a problem giving away so much of himself for so little in return. 

It wasn’t until Bofurin had gotten back from winning an intense match-up with a rival group across town, and you all were celebrating on the rooftop with food and beer, that the obvious occurred to him. 

As he watched over the joyous faces of his crew, he found himself studying you, like he always does, as you interacted with Hiragi, whose eyes looked over your form hungrily after you placed a piece of Gyoza against his lips and the tip of your finger touched his tongue.

He watched when you went to speak to Kiryu, who pulled you into his lap playfully and planted a kiss on your cheek, his hands resting under the curve of your breasts. 

And he watched as you crossed the space to turn up the pop-punk music crooning from the stereo. Suo reached out to you unprompted and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering for a beat too long to be considered innocent. 

It became abundantly clear to Ume that he would be doing a massive disservice to his team if he didn’t share you, too.

You thought he was suggesting an open relationship when he approached you with the idea. Your thoughts were in flux immediately. Was he unhappy? Was there someone else? Your heart sunk into your stomach at the idea and the hurtful implications of such an arrangement, but Umemiya simply shook his head.

“I have no intention of offering myself to anyone but you.” 

Admittedly, your new role as the official Bofurin Girlfriend had you just as busy as Umemiya. You weren’t only a sexual toy for them. You were Nirei’s first date, Suo’s confidant, Tsubakino’s shopping buddy, and Kaji’s and Hiragi’s third wheel at metal shows. You felt so lucky to be surrounded by so much love—and dick. But all those excursions—and dick—kept you insanely booked, to the point that you had to develop a shared calendar with your boy toys to not overlap on dates!

So it’s not to anyone's surprise that there are days when you and Umemiya don’t cross paths. You exchange texts frequently, asking how the other is doing and sharing inside jokes with cute gifs and memes, but the absence hurts and leaves you aching for him. And maybe it was also Umemiya’s intention to busy you with the boys because he knew he couldn’t give you as much time as you deserved, but it didn’t hurt any less. 

But fret not; on rare occasions, your schedules align.

You can feel him before you see him, an overwhelming presence that makes the air dense and clotted with an insurmountable pressure. You look up to the door, and just as your intuition hinted, he strides into the room where you all commonly loiter as a group—members strewn across the worn-out couch and others talking amongst each other immediately straighten and hush. 

Umemiya’s well-kept hair is slightly messy, with a few strands dangling in front of his face, and his eyes are smoldering as they scan across the faces in the room, searching until they land on you.

As soon as your eyes meet, the air feels as though it’s coursing with electricity—sexual tension threatening to boil over and scorch anyone who gets in your path. It doesn’t take long for everyone to get the hint to vacate quickly, knowing that you two are set on a collision course that they wouldn’t be able to stop even if they wanted to.

“Ume," you start but are unable to finish as he crosses the room. His heavy steps are the only thing that prepares you as his lips crash onto yours. As he kisses you, hands placed on either side of your cheeks, he breathes you in. His chest expands against yours, and you’re reminded at that moment how much you’ve missed him—missed this. You both wonder silently, but somehow aloud with your bodies, how you could go so long without the other.

And when you’ve been apart for so long, you don’t have time for pleasantries. Ume is walking you backward until your ass is pushed against the back of the couch, which previously housed Bofurin members, the indentations of their bodies still fresh in the cushions.

He smiles at you—one that you recognize because it isn’t his usual giddy grin; instead, it’s a smile that conveys, “I can’t help what I’m about to do to you.” 

Ume gently grips your elbow and spins you around. As he bends you over, you’re now painfully aware of the feeling of a breeze as he hikes up your dress and his fingers pinch at the exposed flesh of your ass.

“No underwear?”

“Suo doesn’t like it when I wear panties. He says it’s a hassle.”

Umemiya hums to himself in response to this interesting tidbit. He kneels, placing two giant hands on your cheeks, and spreads you down the middle. If anyone else were in the room, they’d be able to see everything, from your juicy, wet cunt to your winking, puckered asshole, and the fact that Umemiya can see everything makes you gush.

“My pretty girl is already so wet,” Umemiya muses, eyeing your pretty hole as it drools for him. You blush, knowing he’s not referring to you but having a conversation with your pussy instead.  

“Have you been a good girl for the boys?” His mouth leaves hot kisses and gentle nips along the curve of your ass, tongue darting out and leaving a trail of saliva across the expanse of your smooth flesh. You stiffen, wondering if his tongue will dip into somewhere more lewd—and Ume considers it, but he’s on a mission with one goal in mind; he’ll devour your asshole another time. 

“Y-yeah, Ume. I’ve been a good girl for them.”

His finger traces your entrance, spreading your freely-flowing juices onto your cunt’s lips. His eyes take you in with pride as you clench around the air simply because his finger is so close to being inside of you. He smiles at the physical way you show how much you crave him.

“For who in particular?”

“My god, Ume! Always with the questions!” You squirm under his touch. You know he isn’t being an intentional tease, but the line of questioning still feels invasive. How do you tell your boyfriend that Hiragi’s cock was breaking you in by noon, and Kiryu had you sucking him off under the table while he tapped away at this phone screen only a couple of hours ago? 

“Why are you shy all of a sudden? Here, I can check.”

Your thighs quiver as he slides two fingers inside of you without warning. You attempt to adjust, but his probing fingers are sweeping so deeply inside of you that you have to dig your nails into the soft fabric of the couch to keep yourself from reaching back and grabbing his wrist. 

“Sugishita, huh? I can tell.”

Oh, yeah. Sugishita, too. 

You cringe as his fingers pass over your clit, making you hiss and recall that you woke up to a particular someone’s head buried between your legs.

“And Nirei, too? Did it feel good when he sucked on your clit? That’s his favorite thing, right? Sucking at your cute little clit until you cum down his throat.”

You huff and wiggle against his hand, growing restless from being exposed like this and against his eyes with no release. 

“Does his tongue feel better than mine?” There’s no jealousy in his tone—just curiosity and a hint of ego because he knows the answer before you can say it.

You give him a quick head shake and mouth the word “No,” earning a smirk. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

He’s teasing you, and not saying what he hears means the unfortunate consequence of not having his mouth on you. 

“Your tongue feels better than Nirei’s, Ume.”

“Good girl.” And without further comment, and to your delight, Ume places a kiss against the back of your mound, soft pubic hair tickling his lips.

You don’t like to compare sexual experiences; every Bofurin member brings their own “talents” to the bedroom, but Umemiya has to be your favorite. He touches you with such fondness and devotion that it sets you on fire. Your head falls forward, and your shoulders slump as his tongue makes gentle work of your clit, as if to apologize on behalf of Nirei for making you sore.

“Did you miss me, Ume?”

“More than you could ever imagine. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you—done this—that I was starting to get restless.”

Umemiya’s words ring true. He feasts upon you as though what you have between your thighs is the only meal that can satiate his immense hunger. The way he rubs his nose against your sex, chuckling as you whimper against him, “Needy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

Umemiya’s tongue splits you open, his tongue solid and firm as it explores your cunt, his hands are placed on either side of your ass, with his face flush against your skin to leave as little space between you as possible. 

The way his hot breath fills you up and the way he moans with every lick makes your head spin. Ume and pussy-eating are synonymous. Eating you out is like breathing in air for him, and the way he’s pushing you forward, your stomach digging into the back of the couch from the exertion, is a clear indicator that he’s just as into it as you are. 

“You taste like heaven, baby girl.” Soft, gentle praises float through the air as he laps at you. Between hungry slurps and moans, your legs begin to tremble. If you weren’t holding yourself up against the fortitude of the couch, you’d surely collapse against Umemiya’s face. 

“This isn’t too much for you, right, baby? I’m so hungry; let me have a little more of your pretty pussy.”

It doesn’t matter what you say; Umemiya is set on devouring you regardless of your ability to stand.

“Grind back on my face, sweet girl. I want you to fuck my tongue.” 

And as someone who isn’t in the business of disappointing her king, you use what little energy you have by pushing yourself off the couch and grinding your pussy on Ume’s outstretched tongue. 

He goads you on with each bounce, and in between the soft, wet, smacking sounds from the collision your ass makes with his face, you can barely make out what he’s chanting. 

As you look back at him, curving your midsection to get as best of a view as one can in a bent over, ass-up position, you’re met with the intense, unapologetic, “dare you to look away” gaze of Umemiya’s over the top of your cheeks. 

Direct eye contact during cunnilingus is an unsung hero, and Ume remains the champion. Your walls clench around his tongue, squeezing the muscle as your pussy juices cascade into his mouth and down his chin. 

And despite the way you quake around him, Ume lets you ride it out on his tongue before pulling away and unbuckling his pants.

“God, I’ve missed ya.”

[biolumien]

hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work…  i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway. 

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway. 

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him. 

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet. 

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding. 

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least. 

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says. 

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?” 

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 14

Tim was the best thing to ever happen to Danny.

He didn't mean that just because how much of a sappy romantic he was to Tim, but because he literally saved him from his own mind.

Danny was never going to leave Amity Park so long as the portal was open.

The portal would always remain open between his parents practically treating it like thier third child and thier ability to simply make another if anything would have happened to that one. Not to mention the super creep named Vlad.

So Danny would have stayed in Amity forever, cleaning up after his parents and being miserable.

Or ya know. Until they managed to kill him.

But then Tim came into his life and fixed everything. He befriended Danny over nightime rooftop rendezvous and groaning at his dumb (read awesome) puns.

As they got closer Sam and Tucker seemed to get both anxious and angry. Were they jealous? What right did they have after the Gregor incident?! Its true that they'd both been to busy to hand out with Danny for the past few weeks, leaving Danny with only Tim to turn to for company.

Tim pointed out that they may feel threatened knowing someone else knows his secret and Danny couldn't help but agree.

Tim pointed out that Danny was going to be stuck here cleaning up after his parent the rest of his life if he didn't find a way to stop the portal. Danny had nearly broke down at that and admitted he didn't know what else to do, so Tim devised a plan with that big beautiful brain of his.

They created a machine that ran on ectoplasm and magic that could wipe information from both technology and the human brain. They could remove all traces of ghosts ever existing in this town and erase 20 years of knowledge and research from Vlad and the Fentons minds, but it would come at a cost as magic usually does.

They would have to forget Danny existed as well. Tim offered that they could run away together.

Danny decided that was okay. The only person he had left in this town who had cared about him was Jazz and she was better off without him there to get her hurt.

Tim also had a plan to strip Vlad of his powers as well as his knowledge, and Danny was looking forward to not having to deal with him anymore

It was the day after everything went down, Tim was driving the GAV while Danny flew in the Ops Centers Jet form. They had made sure to swipe everything they could from the labs as well as everything the thought they needed to travel to Tims home dimension.

Danny had promised to help Tim uncover the secrets of his past and who he really was and to do that they essentially planned to travel around the Earth being wandering criminals.

Between Tims intellect and Dannys powers they were undefeated and unnoticed. They stole whatever they wanted and did whatever they pleased, making sure no one had to get hurt unless there was no other options.

Of course they stole cash from bank vaults as well as whatever else was in there. They couldn't stop Phantom from entering since anti-meta tech didn't affect him and couldnt track Phantom due to him being whatever he was plus the collar Tim had helped Danny design that covered up his ecto-signature.

They lived like this for over a year, breaking in to abandoned places, having waterfights in large city waterfountains (and running when they heard police sirens), tagging some of the places they'd hit when they wanted to leave a message, long romantic walks at night, lots of laughter, going on dates to restaurants (they never dine & dash. Some places make the wait staff pay which is bull and they might want to return to that establishment at some point), that one time they stole a $900 wedding cake from a homophobic bakery owner, lots of Fake out-Make outs to avoid getting sent to jail, ect.

They were having the time of thier lives up until they stopped in a little 24 hour diner in Bludhaven. They were doing what they usually do, flirting and laughing until the waiter takes thier order, when a guy approached thier table. Tim and Danny exchanged worried looks before the guy held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise, I'm Dick Grayson." The man held out his hand to Tim, who hesitated before shaking it, "Tim," he answered honestly.

Danny nudged him with his foot under the table.

The man smiled wide, "Like Tim Drake?"

Tim and Danny looked confused, "Like who?" Danny asked and Dicks smile faltered

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Y/n with a extremely powerful cursed energy

Request from one of my friends who somehow found out about my writing obsession with different fandoms... thanks girl, you know too much now.

Gojo

"I really don't want to fight anyone. Please, stop."

He doesn't say anything, his feet moving his being toward you. He was only walking. He thinks you're weak.

"Please, stop. I-I really don't want to hurt you!" You saw what he did to Hanami, you wanted it to stop.

Geto wasn't there yet so you had to stop him. He's standing right in front of you now. He looks down at you with a frown and then sidesteps you, starting his walk past you.

"Wait!"

You reach forward and grab his arm; he slightly jumps at the contact. You breached infinity. How?

He pulls away from you and crosses his fingers in front of himself.

"Domain expansion..." He was going to kill you.

You hold one finger up as the domain started to expand around you.

"Void."

A black veil swallows up his domain...he's in shock how a weakling like yourself was able to disable everything. A single snap of your fingers and the void you created forms tightly around him, he would lose consciousness soon.

You feel his breathing stop and cease your void, now back at the train station. You approach his body, crouching down to make sure he's unconscious. You go to rise to your feet and his hand shoots out to grab your neck.

"Your cursed energy is quite impressive, sadly, it wasn't enough. Now you're going to die here."

"Satoru."

The guy turns his head, looking at Geto and dropping his hold on your neck in the process. You push his hand away, gasping for air and moving toward Geto. He opens the prison realm and watches the man get swallowed up into the small box.

A hand is placed on your head.

"After the rest of them, your duties aren't over."

★・・・・・・★

Choso

You heard the loud fighting from the bathroom nearby and immediately rushed in, finding a knocked out Yuuji and the person who hurt him.

"Jesus! Yuuji!"

You rush over to him, feeling a soft breath on your hand. You let out a sigh of relief as you turn your head to dodge the arrow coming your way.

"Interesting. You're the blood manipulation dude I heard about."

Another arrow shoots out of his clasped hands, but you simply touch the tip of it, watching it turn into a bloody puddle on the floor. He demeaner falters as he watches you.

"You better count your blessings and hope I don't hurt you that bad."

★・・・・・・★

Sukuna

You thought it was insane that some random kid found their way into a veil and swallowed the finger of Sukuna.

"Y/n, he just-" "Megumi, exit the veil. I got it."

He was about to talk you out of it but then complied with the request you made. Using his curses to help him get off the rooftop quicker. Sukuna turns to you, a crazy smile appearing on his face. His fingers swipe in front of him, obviously trying to cut you. Nothing happens.

He does it again and again, nothing happens.

"No matter how many times you try it, it's not going to work."

He, of course, continued to try to hurt you and then groaned in annoyance when it wasn't working.

You stand in front of him and quickly nullify Sukuna. You click your tongue and carry the boy out of the veil, seeing Megumi and Gojo. Did this man really go shopping?

"Satoru, we have a problem. This kid swallowed Sukuna's finger and now he is his vessel."

★・・・・・・★

TODO & ITADORI

You run in from around the corner, watching Mahito getting beat up. His body rolls in front of you and he looks up at you. You give him your hand and pull him up.

"Well, you look like shit."

"Shut up and handle these two for me."

"You know you're going to owe me for this right."

Mahito runs off and leaves you standing there with the two boys.

"Hi! I hope you two aren't as boring as the others." You stretch out your limbs and start running towards them.

Todo and Itadori runs toward you, trying to grab you, they both fail. You jump up, suppress Todo's energy and using your foot to kick him into the wall. Then you hold Itadori's punch, draining the energy from his body.

"Someone's getting sleepy."

A quick push and he falls over, still alive but asleep. Todo springs back into action, trying to restrain you in some way. Using the drain energy from Itadori, you deliver a hard punch into Todo's abdomen, sending him into the way and knocking him out cold.

"That fight was barely fun..."

★・・・・・・★

TOJI

He just sliced a deep cut on Geto's chest, leaving him in the rubble. When he's walking away from the body, Toji hears something stirring behind him. He quickly turns his head and points his gun at you.

"Y/-Y/n." Geto's hand reaches out shakily, trying to push you away from him.

"Shh... I'm here. Rest." His eyes close and you used your technique to send him back to Jujutsu High, someone will help him.

"I can't believe an old man, of all people, killed THE Satoru Gojo."

BANG!

You appear behind him, sitting on the rubble pile.

"Let me tell you, I'm not like Satoru and I don't die easily."

BANG!

Your hand is around the gun barrel, it starts to dissipate in your grasp. He lets go of the gun and moves away from you. A smile appears on your face and then you sigh.

"I won't get to fight you like I wanted to after all. He's awake now and ready for a rematch. Bye now."

With a quick wink, you disappear into thin air leaving him to walk out the same way he came.

★・・・・・・★

A/n: The way my creativity was working like a machine is fucking insane. My brain hurts and I'm going to bed...

Masterlist —> link

[thewitchblue]

Death was her curse and her gift.

"Tim and I couldn't find out all of her abilities, but she's deadly both from a distance and up close."

Bruce told his children sternly. The Wraith was the newest vigilante and metahuman in Gotham. Her black bodysuit held concealments for her dual blades that release without a sound. She was as silent as a cat and as deadly as a hurricane.

"Avoid her at all costs. Until we find out more about her, she is a threat. Do not engage in a fight."

Bruce's voice was stern and worried. He hated having another masked vigilante running around in Gotham. He can't tell yet if she's a criminal or fighting on the side of good. Sure, she's been on their side so far, but that can change very quickly and very easily.

Unfortunately, his hunt proved fruitless. Every time he got close, it was like she melted into the shadows. She was gone before he said a single word. She did, however, wink at him before she vanished into the night. It was like she knew he wanted to question her, but she had no interest in talking while on patrol.

Jason, of course, didn't listen. He went out looking for her. If he stumbled across a criminal while on the hunt, he obviously took care of them, but his main focus was finding the phantom and questioning her himself.

After a particularly fruitless encounter, he found himself on top of a rooftop, sat down with his legs dangling off the ledge. This was becoming infuriating.

"Fuck! Why is it so hard to find her."

He curses, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He's normally so good at tracking people down, but she's, well, a phantom. He's halfway convinced she's actually a ghost. How does someone just vanish into thin air like that? Does she hide in the shadows and simply walk away? Does she teleport? He couldn't be sure. How was he supposed to find someone who's untrackable? She leaves without a trace. No footsteps in the grime filled streets, no scent he can smell with his slightly heightened senses (he's no bloodhound but surely he'd smell something), even his trackers were removed nearly the second they are placed or straight up avoided entirely. It's like the shadows smack it away for her.

By the end of patrol, he's not happy in the slightest. He's sat outside the Batcave, not wanting to go home yet but not wanting to hang out with his family. His entire night was fruitless.

His head snaps up once he feels a hand on his shoulder. Before he could complain about it, assuming the hand was one of his family members, he stops himself. He notes the hand is much smaller than any of his siblings and certainly smaller than Bruce's massive hands. Then he feels it. A strong tug, almost as if he's been pulled towards a destination. Before he could even struggle, he finds himself in his apartment with a certain ghost vigilante sitting lazily on his favourite chair.

"I believe you have some questions for me, Big Red?"

Her voice was smooth, with a casual tone despite the very horrifying experience unfolding in front of him. He watches almost in awe as twin blades release from her suit silently with a flick of her wrist. She makes no move to threaten him, however. She merely cleans them with a nearby towel. Her eyes watched him with a calculated look as two shadowy hands disarm him with ease.

His brain finally catches up to his situation. He's disarmed, the vigilante knows both where he lives and where the Batcave is, and he has said vigilante on his chair with blades casually being cleaned.

"What do you know?"

Was the only question his dumbfounded brain could think of. What does he do in this situation? If she's a villain, she could've killed him, but if she was good, she wouldn't run away and avoid him.

"Everything, Jason."

Those two words nearly sends him into a panic. What counts as everything?

"Everything about me?"

He was almost hopeful. He desperately hoped she didn't know anything about his family. She lazily hung her legs off the arm of the chair, leaning back while still facing him.

"I know everything about everyone in your vigilante family. You became part of the family after nearly stealing the Batmobile wheels and you died because of the Joker. You've been revived, and honestly you've been through the wringer. Disowned for a moment, with mommy and double daddy issues. Your best friend is named Roy and you are about to have a secret girlfriend."

She said everything with confidence. She really did know everything. Then his brows furrow in confusion,

"Did you just ask me out after telling me my entire life story?"

He was equal parts flabbergasted and flattered. She was bold, that much he can tell. She swings her legs back to the front of the chair to face him normally. Calmly, she replied,

"That depends on what your answer to the question is."

He doesn't even know her name. He said,

"I don't know anything about you."

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she said,

"I'm Y/N. If you kiss me, I might let you take off my mask."

As silent as a tiger, she stalked towards him with a grin, her blades returning to her suit as smoothly as they came out to lower her threat level in his mind. Shadows swirl around her, almost clinging to her like an overprotective best friend. She really isn't here to threaten him. He knows she could skewer him like a kebab or sap away his life force, but he coyly asked,

"How am I going to kiss you through my helmet, punk?"

She smirked, pulling off his helmet in a shockingly gentle manner. He wraps his hands easily around her waist and pulls her closer. She was so close that he could smell her perfume and feel her body heat.

"Well, I am good at keeping secrets."

He said with a sly grin before kissing her. To hell with whatever the others think about their relationship. Sometimes, it's a good thing to take risks.

[adrixivy]

PeteI definitely does Insta live. Like we know he did a vlog during the deleted scenes and it was him partying with random people on a rooftop. And he taped his phone to his chest because he’s a highschooler who loves to D.I.Y and makes his own stuff (mainly because he’s broke) and he can’t swing with one arm so taped to the chest it is

He definitely has an Instagram account (ThatFunnyFriendlyNeighbourhoodWebslinger) where he goes live for a while as he swings through New York and basically talks to himself cuz he can’t see the comments. People who usually tune in simply listen to him ramble about basically anything because he makes it sound hilarious or he’ll talk about something that happened off camera and complain in the most unserious way people find him funny.

Peter after being run over by a flock of birds and he was blinded and slammed against a signboard: Like damn, no ‘sorry’?? I was minding my own business too!

Peter rambling about something he thought about randomly in class earlier: Guys, if I stole a helmet from one of Mr Stark’s suits, do you think he would notice it? I don’t know if I can say this but he has plenty of suits. I feel like if I took one of his helmets and change the protocol, hell maybe even add a mustache, his sleep deprived ass wouldn’t notice. Oh my god, imagine what I can do with his nano tech suit! I could change-

Peter gets a call from Tony and an “Oh snap!” was last heard from the live before it ended. He picks up the face time call to see an offended Tony deflecting everything he said on his live because he was also listening in and Tony was pointing at the camera as he kept going on and on about Peter not allowed anywhere near his suits anymore and maybe even the lab which Tony was obviously joking and Peter took it seriously that even with the mask on, Tony could see his upset face with his moving lenses and sad puppy noises. Tony obviously makes up for it by letting him input his own stuff into one of his old suits

There are times also where his live suddenly cuts off with a yelp or a scream because he just encountered thugs and they started coming at him that he has to immediately hide his phone as he does not need a broken phone right now, therefore ending the stream.

Peter halfway through a complaint: Then they were like, you should bring your own paper if you can bring a pen. Woman, I simply wanted to leave a note so that-*gunshots sounds in the background* OH SHOOT! *live ends*

Other than simply listening into his live, some of his fans makes compilation of certain moments in his lives.

‘Spidey’s complaints compilation’

‘Spidey’s funny rambles’

‘Spidey’s perfect cut-off screams’

And Peter watches every single one of them, always laughing his ass off as he recalls the day. He always liked the videos and sometimes leave comments too. He watches them with the team sometimes and they all have fun watching him, especially the parts where he plans to do his own adjustments to Tony’s stuff which makes the older man raise a brow at his kid who was claiming that he was joking then(He was not joking)

Oh and I forget to add, he always has a few hundred thousand people listening in because at most, he does lives two times a week only. His highest view count was a million people and he honestly panicked

[shan-yee]

•𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘟𝘐𝘐𝘐 = 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣!𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

•𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 = 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙮𝙤

•𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮, 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙨, 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧, 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙤𝙘 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪 ?

•𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 967

•𝘈/𝘕 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

•𝘈/𝘕 2 = 𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨-

[Kinks]

⇰ I clearly see Sanzu into BDSM, I think he likes to inflict pain on his partner but what he likes the most is that he is the only one who can do it.

⇰ If someone dares to touch what is his, without his consent, he will not hesitate to do ten times worse to them. But if he is the one to do it, it's totally different, he knows what pleases her and it's a way of having ascendancy over her.

⇰ The only person he won't dare say anything against will be Mikey. But honestly, the young man won't be interested in the reader at all so it's unlikely he'll do anything to her.

⇰ I think that he would also like exhibitionism but with a twist, he would be the one watching. Perhaps once or twice a month he would let other men have sex with his partner under his eyes, beware of anyone who dares to touch her outside of these times.

⇰ Knowing that at the end of the night she belongs to him and that she is enjoying herself while he watches excites him. He likes to think that at any moment he can tell her to stop and she will immediately push other men away, it's also a way to have control over her.

⇰ Sometimes he’ll leaves the choice to his partner and these will be the rare moments when he will be gentle, in his own way, if she wishes. Otherwise « vanilla »sex isn’t really his thing.

[Vocals]

⇰ I was pretty hesitant on this one but I think that Sanzu would be more of the vocal type during intimacy. Under drugs he will have difficulty holding back and sometimes won’t even be aware that he’s letting out noises.

⇰ Generally he will talk more than he will moan or grunt, he’ll tease his partner during penetration or oral sex for example and will try to make her react by biting her,

⇰ He's not really the type to worry about others and rarely will he ask his girlfriend how she's feeling, and even if she's tired or wants to stop it's not sure that he stops.

⇰ He may use vulgar words to describe his partner and even if she cries he will not really think about apologizing, unless she refuses to speak to him afterwards and at that moment, reluctantly, he will apologize. Sanzu will surely offer her something too, a way to be sure that she will no longer hold it against him.

⇰ During a « gangbang » he will be silent, which is very rare, and will only intervene rarely to compliment his partner or, on the contrary, denigrate her

[Dom/sub/switch]

⇰ Sanzu is clearly in the dom category, and compared to others he would not pretend to be a sub even to please his partner.

⇰ This trait comes out in everyday life and not just during sex, he is very controlling and tends to keep a close eye on the reader, whether by asking someone to follow her or simply by clinging to her.

⇰ He will choose most of her outfits and buy her makeup, but Sanzu is very observant and these little details will often pass for attention since he will always give her what she wants without her asking.

⇰ It’s his way of making himself indispensable. However, he is still « gentle », in his own way, and will take her to the restaurants or shops she wants, he will sometimes just give her his card and let her do what she wants.

⇰ But only when he is sure that she is not thinking about leaving him or having doubts about him—who he is and what he does—, because yes, Sanzu does not shout from the rooftops what he does and I think he will prefer to keep certain details for him.

[Position]

⇰ Sanzu is not very complicated, he likes most positions and is ready to discover others even if they may seem strange.

⇰ Generally he likes positions like « The pretzel » and « The G-whiz » which give him some control and allow him to touch his partner.

⇰ He will be able to stimulate her clitoris and will have fun with it, he’ll tend to continue to stimulate her after an orgasm to watch her wriggle.

⇰ He also likes practical positions which can be done standing up or on a flat surface between two « matter that does not concern you ».

⇰ During a BDSM session he will restrain his partner with ropes or harnesses, he’ll have fun testing her flexibility by attaching her feet to his hands or her ankles near her thighs using straps.

⇰ Generally he will not perform penetration in this positions and will just play with different toys.

[Biting/marking]

⇰ Sanzu bites a lot during the act, his goal is to leave a mark, definitive if possible. He often leaves deep teeth marks on his partner's shoulders and between her thighs.

⇰ He may leave a few hickeys here and there, but his thing is really deep marks.

⇰ During foreplay he might brush his partner's skin with a blade, from time to time he will press it to leave a slight trace and over time the desire to engrave his initials might cross his mind.

⇰ Sanzu will not ask for his girlfriend's consent, he believes that if she got with him she knew what she was getting into.

⇰ If the reader decides to leave marks on him in turn he won't say no, he will even be quite excited. Exceptionally, he could even lend her his blade and let her in turn engrave something into his skin, even if he clearly prefers to give.

⇰ This will only happen after a while of relationship, he’ll trust his partner and will not doubt her at all, if you want to run it’s your chance.

[pskmonika]

I saw the post you made abt MHA boys’ type and thought it was so cute and accurate (at least how I envision it too) I loved your vision for Shinsos s/o and was wondering if you had any hcs about his type/what he finds attractive? I love this purple haired boy sm you have no idea

-🫐

Shisou's type / him having a crush:

Because of shinsou's calm personality, a lot assume that he'd be into someone who's more outgoing and extroverted that makes him get out of his shell, but i dont think thats true

trying to think of it in a canon way, shinsou is sooo similar to aizawa and we saw that aizawa had no feelings towards the bubbly girl that like him, so thats why i think similar to him, thats simply not shinsou's type

Shinsou wouldn’t fall for someone who blends into the crowd—he needs someone who sees the world differently, someone extraordinary in their own quiet way, shinsou doesn’t crave noise; he craves depth.

well at first You was quite, that all there was in you , that all everyone saw, but shinsou unlike everyone else, pays attention to the smallest details, like the way u loved to draw whenever u got free time, like the way u chase cats outside and always leave a piece of cheese or tuna in ur backpack just in case u found hungry stray cats, or the way u loved to come to class earlier than everyone just to listen to ur fav songs while staring out the window, u loved the sky, he for sure knew that, from the way u stare at it, the way u drew it

maybe it was drawing, writing, making music or even photography.... but you certainly was someone artistic, someone that sees beauty in things, someone that doesnt just look around the world, someone that sees the world, someone that holds so much inside

You were fascinating, just like your quirk: Nightmare. It brought your enemies’ greatest fears to life, turning them into a reality you controlled, it was scary, it made him wonder if people thought you have quite the vaillin quirk, just like they thought about him,

But unlike him, you was quiet but never unkind, and he was curious

So he got closer, started from borrowing a pen, to a random chat in the rooftop to being partners for a school project, and the more time he spent with you, the more, he’s sinking, deeper and deeper, into you.

you made him feel at ease, you were like a gentle breeze on a warm day, he felt like with you he can breath

He loves that no one knows you like he does, Your laughter, your secrets, your vulnerabilities—they belong to him. He’s possessive, and he knows it. its no secret how insecure he is, so knowing that he got to see sides of you that no one else sees, hear a laugh that no else hears, making inside jokes with you, hearing your secrets and discovering all the diff sides of you, it all make him feel so special

But the moment he sees you with someone else, it feels like his insecurities explode, the jealousy start consuming him like gasoline igniting on an open flame, and when the wild fire consumes him, it all came bursting out his chest, as a messy unexpected confessing and a sudden passionate kiss

N.B: i hope u enjoyed this! I always try to keep the character's true personality and stay canon and make the s/o kind of special, so sorry if this wasnt exactly what u wanted! Everyone feel free to request any other characters! This is the previous post and sorry for any grammar mistakes, if u got any other thoughts on shinsou's type comment it down below! Id love to hear your thoughts

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 9

It'll Be Okay

You'd warned Joker of Red Hood's threat. You'd also mentioned his dual identity as the previous Robin. That had caught his attention more than the death threat.

He had spiraled into one of his laughing fits. You had no idea what amused him so much. Maybe he was just plotting to mess with the Bat? Or maybe it was the irony of the Boy Wonder becoming a trigger happy gang leader. You could see the humor in that.

You'd asked what Joker planned to do. He simply said 'wait'. He intended to wait for Red Hood to make good on his threat and come for him. He said Batman would get involved and they'd eventually fight amongst themselves. The idea of Batman fighting Robin elicited another round of cackles from the man.

You didn't know how to feel about all this.

On one hand Joker was confident he'd be fine. And he always was. You felt relief at the reassurance. On the other, Red Hood was a skilled fighter. Far more than Joker. If the Bat didn't intervene this wouldn't end well for him. You felt concerned.

You wanted to be mad. To be angry with the man you once called your rival. But you couldn't. You couldn't bring yourself to hold a grudge with the only other person to offer you a new life. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't tempted.

The goody two shoes you once knew was long gone, now in his place stood a morally grey vigilante. Someone who wanted to clean up Gotham. Who was willing to kill to do so.

He had captured your interest all over again.

But you couldn't just leave Joker. This was your life. Everything you knew. You didn't want to lose that. Not again.

"So... what are you gonna do? When Red Hood confronts you?"

"Well I can't just spoil the surprise, now can I?"

"True."

You chewed your tongue anxiously. "And why exactly does Red Hood want you dead?"

"The same reason they all do." Joker grinned. "They can't take a joke."

You had long since grown accustomed to Joker's answers. Or rather, lack there of. Usually you didn't mind this habit of his, but now? You wanted an answer. A real one.

"He seems pretty hell bent on it though. Musta been a pretty big joke."

"... Jinx, my dear. You're not fishing for something, now, are you?"

You let out an exaggerated gasp. "Moi?! Fishing? Perish the thought."

"Good. Because some things are better left buried. For one's own sanity... or what's left of it- Haha!"

You forced a smile. You wouldn't be getting anything out of him. Red Hood however...

"Knew I'd find you here."

The red helmet turned in your direction. Red Hood sat at the edge of a rooftop. The very same one he'd taught you how to fight on.

"Come to test how strong the kevlar is?"

"... I'm sorry about that."

"Right."

"..."

"So, why are you here?"

"Was looking for you."

"Congratulations. You found me."

"I..." You cautiously approached the man. "I need to ask you something."

"..."

You sat down beside him, knees pulled to your chest. "Why do you wanna kill Joker?"

"He's a manipulative, destructive, evil psychopath that doesn't deserve to see the light of day."

"... Okay, that's fair. But I meant, like, you specifically?"

"Like I said, it's a long story."

You scooted closer, eyes never leaving the whites of his mask. He stared back, unmoving. A huff came from the vigilante.

"You really wanna know?"

You nodded silently.

"He killed me."

You blinked once. Then twice. You opened your mouth to speak but no words would form. How does one respond to that?

"I know how it sounds, but it's true."

"Then how are you..."

"Alive?"

"Yeah, that."

"You ever hear of Ra's al Ghul?"

You squinted in thought, your mouth flattened into a line. You shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. Point is he has this thing called the Lazarus pit. It can heal anything. Even the dead apparently." Red Hood cleared his throat. "Took me a long time to actually come back though. Took years for my mind to catch up with my body."

A light bulb went off. "All that time you were gone-!"

"Yup."

"Oh my god... you were really dead."

"Yup again."

"And you're sure Joker... I mean you're sure he-"

"He looked me in the eye as he beat me over and over again with a god damn crowbar. That sure enough for you?!"

You leaned back, arms raising in defense.

Joker killed him. When he was just a kid too. And he never even mentioned it.

Your mind wandered to all the times he'd been gone for extended periods of time. Had he been torturing Red Hood during one of his 'out of town' trips? He knew how much you'd missed Robin back then. And he said nothing. Not a word. He knew this whole time and acted like he was none the wiser! He tricked you! Lied to you!

You sink your nails into the palm of your hand, and your teeth into your bottom lip. You were furious. Beyond livid. Your blood felt hot under your skin.

You stood up abruptly. "I have to go."

"Jinx, no-"

"He lied! He knew what happened to you and didn't say a damn thing!"

"You can't just go and fight him blindly. You need a plan."

"My plan is to ask him why."

"There is no 'why', he's just like that. He has no remorse. Even for you."

That stung. More than you thought it would given the current circumstances. You swallowed the lump in your throat, holding your rage induced tears back. The attempt was in vain, a hiccup escaping you. You sat back down next to Red Hood, hugging yourself.

"Why does this always happen. Why can't people ever just care about me? Why am I such a jinx?!"

Your yells were met with silence. You sobbed into your knees. The air was cool, autumn transitioning to winter. You felt something warm on your right shoulder. You looked up to see a gloved hand. Red Hood stared down at you, expression unreadable. He pulled you towards him, his arm now slung around your shoulders.

"It'll be okay."

Your tears spilled once more. You leaned into his side as you cried to your heart's content. In that moment you felt safe. More so then you ever have.

You felt at home.

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?”

Or

An interview gives unique insight into Pedro Pascal and his vast amount of love for his wife

I make my way through meeting the cast of HBO's unexpected hit “The Last Of Us” rather easily.

Bella Ramsey lives in a far nicer apartment in London than anything I would have been able to afford at the same age. Despite their fame and talent, they remain settled and down to earth, dressed in an outfit a little too cool for me to understand and eager to show me around their lovely apartment that is decorated in a way that I quite liked but I'm sure my baby boomer father would find offensive. I even end up meeting Ramsey's girlfriend, a fellow actor (who I admittedly had never heard of) who is equally as young and pretty as Ramsey is. They are both lovely and down to earth, a sentiment I don't often find relatable working with celebrities.

Kaitlin Denver is in her late 20s and still looks like she could be in high school. She lives in a shared house with her sister, whom she also shares a music career with. Despite the controversy surrounding her character in the show, she seems to remain completely unfazed by the backlash and threats that surround Abby Anderson. Denver merley shrugs when I ask her how she deals with it, leaving me to assume her vices when it comes to dealing with unprecedented hate.

I meet other stars of the show too. Gabriel Luna has all the southern charm of Tommy Miller and more, making me question whether he really does any acting when playing the sweeter, younger Texan brother. Isabela Merced is very beautiful in person and is also far shorter than I had imagined. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality and charm.

Of course, when you think of the stars of The Last Of Us, there is probably someone else that comes to mind. Securing an interview with Pedro Pascal is probably one of the harder things I have had to do in recent years. It's not that Pacal is hard to come by; in fact, in recent years we haven't been able to escape him. I originally doubted that I would even be able to secure an interview with the internet's "daddy." Pascal has had a busy few years, and this one is no different. With multiple projects coming out this year, including the new season of The Last Of Us and his highly anticipated entry into the MCU as the iconic Richard Reed, it seems that everyone wants a piece of him. While all the other actors on this list do have notable careers outside of the show, the point of this interview series was to be able to interview the main cast members of the show in anticipation for the new season; however, I found that same sentiment hard to carry across when interviewing Pascal. I don't want to spoil the show for anyone, but I will just say that he won't be back next season. Whether that's due to internal conflicts or simply being too booked, we’ll never know.

I was rather ecstatic to receive a phone call from someone on his team letting me know the time and date for our interview. Like normal, I'm given an NDA to sign before receiving any personal information, such as his address (which I did require for the purpose of the interview). But everything else seems to go off without a hitch. 

I was admittedly nervous to meet him. In the best way possible, his reputation definitely proceeds him. Pascal is only ever described as kind, loving, funny, and any other positive synonyms for a massive sweetheart that you can think of. I personally have been a big fan of his work since he played forever thirsted over narcos agent Javier Paner. I know they say you shouldn't meet your idols (and trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaking realizations that someone I once admired is actually a piece of shit), but I had high hopes for meeting Pedro. And I am happy to report that it did not disappoint. 

I arrived at his home in Los Angeles ten minutes earlier than I should have. Not that I'm kept waiting, as before I can get a second knock in on the door, a young woman flings it open, smiling at me tightly. She quickly lets me in, introducing herself as Pascal's assistant, offering me tea or coffee, and ushering me to sit down on the comfy-looking couch while I wait for her boss to arrive (which she insists should not be too long). I take a moment to look around the room while I'm waiting. The room is sweet and welcoming, much like the rest of the home, which feels very well... homely (like stepping into your best friend's house and chatting with their parents at the dinner table). It's a hard feeling to describe, such a sense of nostalgia from a place that I had never been in before. It feels fitting though that a man so beloved as Pedro Pascal should have a home that feels so nice. I snoop to get a closer look at the photos that hang up on the walls and sit on cabinets. Most of them seem normal. There are a few faces I recognize within the photos; Oscar Iscac can be spotted alongside a younger-looking Pascal in one of the photos on the wall. I spot John Favro amongst a few people in a photo that looks to have been taken on the set of The Mandelorian, but apart from that, the photos seem normal. They depict family and friends in various places over various years; it appears that Pascal cherishes his relationships with loved ones above all else. 

I'm stopped in my snooping by another face in one of the photos, a face I recognize instantly, a face that has been all over the internet and tabloids for some time now. Pedro's wife. The photo is the first one in which she features prominently, sitting alongside what I can only assume to be one of her husband's sisters. It's a sweet photo, one that I can imagine Pedro was on the other side of, grinning wildly while taking. Y/N Pascal is an elusive figure that the media and her husband's fans have been trying to know better for a few years now. She is what is best described as a "normie," that is to say that she is just like you and me; that is perhaps what makes her so interesting to fans. She doesn't appear to have any ties to the industry; she isn't some big-wig producer's daughter; in fact, despite their insistence, fans have been unable to find anything on her. She has no public social media accounts, no company profiles online, and no one she went to high school with has come forward with a tik tok horror story (yet!). The couple are shrouded in mystery; no one seems to know how they met, where Y/N is from, or even the highly shrouded question of her age. She certainly appears younger than Pascal by a good few years, and I'm sure that I could find thousands of posts online speculating (or being downright nasty) about how young she is. But out of respect for the happy couple, I leave it a mystery. 

The sharp heels of the sensible shoes that Pascal's assistant is wearing suddenly come back into earshot. She warns me to be ready with my stuff as “they” will be home soon. I don't think twice about her words before hauling ass back to the couch and trying to pull myself together. It's not long before I hear the front door open. Amy (Pascal's assistant that I had only just remembered the name of) runs to the door. I walk slower behind awkwardly, not wanting to intrude (despite the fact that I had spent the last ten minutes snooping around what was essentially a stranger's house). I peek round the corner to be greeted with Pascal's broad back. He is facing away from me, talking to his assistant lowly. His assistant finishes speaking and moves past me, wishing me luck in passing. Pascal doesn't turn around to greet me yet; in fact, he drops down onto one knee to reveal to my utmost shock his wife. Neither of them pay me any mind as he begins untying her shoes for her, ever the gentleman everyone believes he is. 

It's not a second later that the man of the hour turns around to greet me. He smiles widely at me, and I find myself blushing slightly at his unwavering eye contact as he introduces himself. He only introduces himself by his first name, not something I find often when meeting famous people; they are often eager to give me the name that everyone knows and loves them by. It seems a bit of a strange phenomenon in Hollywood that has missed Pascal. His wife then steps forward to introduce herself. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the millions of jealous fans, but Y/N Pascal is strikingly beautiful; even as I meet her in her own home with no makeup, she glows ethereally with a striking smile that looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. In that moment meeting her I quickly see why Pascal holds her in such admiration.

Much to my disappointment, that is the first and last time I see her during the interview. Pedro ushers her away somewhere out of sight with a protective arm around her shoulder. I can hear him mutter to her lowly, promising to be quick. Before kissing her goodbye with an "I love you." It makes my heart ache with a longing. Much like the rest of the internet, I wish I had a man like Pedro Pascal. We chat for a while, while exploring his house, he speaks passionately about his career, which he clearly loves. He has a flame behind his eyes as he speaks about his long-winded love for the cinema. He tells me stories of his famous friends that are featured on his walls. We laugh together, and he very much reminds me of an old friend. Even though I should be interviewing him, I let him talk, rambling on about things that I didn't find important enough to put in this interview, but they certainly put a smile on my face. 

The house is beautiful; it's decorated nicely and feels authentic and homely. It's not massive, not overly obnoxious in the way many celebrity houses are; it's still big, the kind of size that screams loving family. I don't mean to make assumptions, but it almost feels like it's been brought with the idea of a growing family in mind. I complement the house easily. Pedro smiles at me. For the first time in the interview, he refers to his wife. He tells me that he hadn't cared where they lived; “anywhere is home when you are with someone that you love,” but insists that she had loved the house the moment they first saw it. "She has better taste than me,” he tells me with a loving glint in his eye. "She did a good job.” I compliment, he nods and smiles, "always thought I was biased 'cause I’m married to her, but glad to know it's not just me." I feel awfully privileged to get an insight into Pedro's fondness of his wife. It's not often that he speaks about her publicly; she gets mentioned in passing during interviews and is often spotted at events with him, safely away from the cameras, but it's clear to the general public that his marriage is a part of his life that he wishes to keep away from public scrutiny. 

Its towards the end of the interview that I do ask him about his marriage. We walk past a wedding photo that depicts him and his lovely bride squashed together on one seat, smiling widely at the camera. He doesn't say anything when he notices me peering at the photo. I ask him carefully if he thinks being a married man has changed him. He ponders for a second. "Probably,” he answers me carefully. It's not the response I had expected from him, so I quickly encourage him to go on. "I suppose it has in a way,” he continues. “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?” I smile and nod at his explanation. I understand what he is saying—such a sweet sentiment that it makes my heart warm. 

We don't speak for much longer after that; he briefly mentions a few upcoming projects, which he seems excited for. I ask him what he has planned next, after his next few big projects are done. He hesitates for a second. “Truthfully,” he says, “I plan on taking a step away for a bit.” I ask if he wants to settle down more. “Yeah, that's part of it; I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He tells me, “Things are changing soon, and I just want to be settled with my family.” He finishes. I wonder for a moment what he is referring to when he mentions these soon changes; I don't ponder on it too long; much like a crazed fan, I have a few theories floating around in my head. 

We wrap up the interview from there; he is as polite and gracious as he has been the entire time, shaking my hand and thanking me for my time. I try to thank him for the interview and for letting me into his house, but he simply shakes his head at me, insisting it was his pleasure. He disappears soon after that, saying he has something to attend to (and speed walking in the direction that his wife disappeared to). I'm left to see myself out; I don’t snoop too much after I’m left alone. I make my way back to the front of the house, peering around as I go. I peek inside one room that appears to be in the middle of some kind of renovation or do-over. There are multiple pieces of yet-to-be put together furniture on the ground as the walls look to be in the middle of being painted a pastel purple color. 

I’m about to leave when something catches my eye—on the table by the front door, which has various bits and bobs scattered over it, but none of these catch my eye. I step closer to get a clearer view of what appears to be a small black and white photo. I quickly realize what it is: tucked beneath the wallet I had seen Pedro place down before our interview began is an ultrasound. I smile knowingly as my theory is proven correct; the Pascal family is about to be adding another member. 

Congratulations to Pedro as his wife on the upcoming addition to their family.

[seleneprince]

When someone asks what her favourite colour is, the answer comes quick: Red.

Not only does it look beautiful on her, but also what represents to her. Red is the colour of the walls where she lived with her mother and brother. The colour of the apartment that saw her born and surrounded her for ten years. Red is warmth, love, the sound of her mother's laughter, her little brother's giggles. Red is the colour of her mom's favourite lipstick, the one that stains Lucia and Marco's faces when she can't control herself and kisses them all over.

Red is the colour of blood. The one that stained their walls when her mother was shot to death, mixing with the paint and making it impossible to discern where the blood started and where the paint ended. It's the colour of the growing puddle underneath her mother's cold body, with her eyes wide open and her crimson lipstick smudged. Red is the colour of life, of passion. It's the last thing that comes out of her mother, carrying a lifetime of happiness and love as it stains the carpet.

Red is her blood as well, when her knuckles bruise and her lip is split. It's the adrenaline as she runs through the rooftops without a care, as she flies with her motorbike through the endless streets of Gotham. It's what covers her vision when she's angry and feels stronger for it. It's the colour of power, of resilience. It's herself

She just loves red. She loves waking up and seeing in her bedsheets, in her clothes, in the small pieces that compose her life.

When she's asked why she never wears green, she replies that she simply doesn't like the colour. It's a lie, of course. It's not that she dislikes green.

She hates it.

She goes out of her way to never, ever, own anything that's green. She carries all the colours, not only red, but you wouldn't ever see so much as a stain of green in her or her space.

She avoids going into details of why she hates it so much, because if she started talking, she would be revealing too much of herself.

Green is the colour of greed, of selfishness. It's what she sees when she throws up because of the stress. It's the shade that takes over her skin when she's bitten more than she can chew. It's weakness, instability. It's the colour of jealousy, of the feeling that she's not good enough. That she'll never be.

Green is the colour of his eyes, filled with contempt and disdain. It's the first thing she saw that night when she woke up with a sword pressed against her throat, its sharp edge stained in her blood as it cut her skin open. Green were his eyes as he pinned her down, empty voids that couldn't belong to a human, but something straight out of her nightmares.

Green is her pain afterwards. The crumbling realisation that she's alone, she'll always be alone. She doesn't matter. The green that scarred her is the same one that's loved and welcomed with open arms, while she watches from the sidelines. Green is fear, flinching when he brushes past her, when he moves too quickly near her. It's what she sees when she's reminded of her inferiority, of how worthless she is.

Green is the colour of hatred. The eyes of a monster she has to live with. A demon. It's what takes over her worst nightmares, the ones that punch her awake in the middle of the night, sweating and still trembling from her imminent death. It's what she sees in the corner of her eye when she's too paranoid. It's a painful reminder. It makes her breath itch every time and unconscious brace herself for the worst.

Green is also the colour of someone else's eyes. Eyes that saw death and came back from its embrace. A shade of green that's just too intense to be normal. To be human. They're both the same. Demon eyes. She hates them. She hates them. She's terrified of them. She'll do anything to not see them anymore, to stop feeling so damn weak. Why do they keep staring? Leave her alone.

Taglist: @yuyuzi-ling @lunayaps (if someone wants to be added, let me know)

[cheesus-doodles]

i wonder how izana is like if he had a s/o during the time when he was the black dragon leader

Red Dragonflies Masterlist | Masterlist

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i have actually answered this previously in these Relationship HCs ! and this is also the case in my red dragonflies AU, former gang leader reader is actually Izzy's s/o when he was the black dragon leader - have linked the masterlist up top cough

but because I like to rant, here are some more thoughts about yan black dragon-era Izzy and you, which can apply to both regular reader and gang leader reader!

Izana was probably already very unstable and jealous during his time as the 8th Gen Black Dragon leader, what with the entire situation between Shinichiro constantly talking about Mikey, and learning that the Black Dragon gang would go to said boy instead of him. Combined that with him having found you as an s/o, someone that Izana would see as his, something that he could finally own and keep to himself without having to share (unlike the whole situation with Shinichiro), no doubt that it wouldn't take long for Izana to swing into yandere tendencies, becoming extremely overbearing and overprotective over you.

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With you around, there is a very clear difference in Izana's mannerisms and general behavior. Almost a personality flip in fact, it's night and day how he acts in your presence and when you aren't present. After all, there's a certain way that Izana wants you to perceive him as, and then there's everything else - so this white-haired boy would be sure to carefully tailor and adjust how he acts around you to what he knows you like (to a certain degree of course). As long as you don't threaten the status quo, as long as you keep by his side and his side only, your precious Izzy is whoever you want him to be. Loving, kind, doting, he can almost seem to read your mind and predict your moods.

Knows how to make you feel better after a shitty day, knows what to say and what to do to get you falling heads over heels for him over and over. But don't let that fool you into thinking that you were beyond his manipulation, because nope, not a chance. If he even has the slightest doubt that you were drifting away from him, or worse, thinking of leaving him, expect for Izzy to start subtly tearing you down. He wouldn't sound any different from what he usually does, cooing, low, soft murmur, but the things that slip from his mouth; it pokes at your insecurities, stirs the doubts you have about yourself. Yes, you were the most beautiful person he had laid eyes on, but did you think that really extended to everyone? Surely, surely you know that only he can love you like this? You couldn't possibly survive away from his side the way you are, right?

In his mind, Izzy is only doing it because he loved you as much as he did - you were made for him, like he was made for you. He couldn't live without you, so even if he had to hurt you a little, it'll all be worth it. You'll see that it was all for you.

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Wouldn't be uncommon to see him roaring down streets, both city and mountain ones alike, on his motorbike with you clung to his back and with no specific destination in mind - just likes to spend time with you, brings you anywhere that you want to go. Besides, the delinquents in the city, be they Black Dragons or rival scum, know better than to stare at the two of you. Loves light, airy places, so be prepared to spend a lot of time just hanging out together on rooftops and mountains, somewhere where you can feel the breeze through your hair, where Izzy can get you all to himself. All your attention being on him is the best kind of date.

There's no such thing as privacy, period. He absolutely needs to know everything that happens in your life, and anything less would earn you a full tantrum and fit. Put simply, its either Izana is there, hovering next to you and keeping one violet eye on all your ongoings, and no doubt this baby boy has someone (cough Inupi cough) tagging you from a respectable distance when he isn't free. That is, on top of having unfettered access to everything on your phone; call logs, messages, photos. Nothing is secret from him, why would it be? What do you have to hide from your partner?

You don't go anywhere new without Izzy. Why do you have to? What were you hiding? Your future husband would be happy to take you anywhere you have to go: cafe, the new department store downtown, even festivals. So unless you were trying to hide something from him, why wouldn't you want him to go along? Don't you know how dangerous it is out there? What if you get jumped by a rival gang? Needless to say, keeping presents a secret from this boy isn't a walk in a park.

‎‎

Everything else that Izana doesn't think you would approve of seeing would be done out of your sight. He doesn't like having you see the darker side of your boyfriend, the one that deals with weapons and drugs, the one that beats people, both civilians and his own gang members alike for the mildest of perceived infringements against you. You were too soft, too delicate for that. What if you got scared off? What would he do if you became frightened of him?

Instead, all his rage, all his hatred, he poured into the Black Dragon gang, leading them down darker and darker paths. The entire world was scum as far as he was concerned, trash that he had to beat and flatten into perfection so you didn't have to foul your hands and feet.

Sure Izana couldn't keep Shinichiro to himself as much as he desperately wanted to, the first time he truly found family - the source of a lot of his anger and jealousy. He hated Mikey, and always will, for stealing his older brother. But you were perfection, divinity, and you filled the hole in his heart; you didn't have to see that side of him if you just stuck by his side and returned his love. You were the only thing giving stability to a very fragile Izzy, and god only knows what would happen to him if that stability ever left. Izana would give you the sun and the moon if you wanted them both, all he asked for in return was your loyalty.

[chrlvctius]

clandestine meetings

Alexia putellas x williamson reader!!

It was late afternoon, probably around 5 p.m., and the sun was setting. It was October, the fall season. The air smelled like leaves, almost like pumpkin. I was so focused on people walking down from the rooftop that I didn't notice someone joining me.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was since I knew who it was right away. Just by her hair, her height, and the vibes she radiates. I couldn't be wrong, I knew it was her. Memorising those small details about her makes me hate her because I can't seem to get over her.

She moved closer to me, leaving a small distance between us. She took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on about her business while I was at a loss for what to do beside her. I don't think starting a conversation with her would help either, so I just stood quietly, admiring the view and watching the sun set as the wind blew through my hair.

There's something about that comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything to one other or anything like that. Or, if we did talk. We didn't have to worry about running out of topics or being awkward since simply being with her in silence is plenty; her presence is enough. Being together felt like home; it made us feel complete.

Leaning over the rail, I turned my head to check on her, and she was as lovely as ever. She was always beautiful. She was the first person who caught my attention when I moved to Barcelona. I've kept an eye on her ever since.

She continued smoking and admiring the view, while I got lost staring at her. She sighed and smiled, "You know I can see you staring, right?" she asked, turning to face me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just chuckled and shrugged it off.

She turned to face me, tossed her cigarette in the trash can, and moved closer to me.

"Why did you stop smoking?" I asked as she approached me.

"I don't want you to smell like smoke, plus i don't think you like it when people smoke near you" she went on to say

"That's very thoughtful of you, ale," I comment, laughing at her.

She was taken aback for a moment because she had never heard me call her by her nickname. It was my first time addressing her as such. I usually refer to her as "alexia" or "cap"

She paused for a bit before clearing her throat, "Is your sister okay?"

she said, seeming nervous

She seems to have gathered up enough courage to ask that question. Leah and Alexia weren't on the best of terms, so hearing her ask this makes my heart melt.

"She'll be fine; I'll be back home once the breaks come," I reassured her.

"I know she was against you going to Barcelona," she said as she drew closer to me than she had ever been.

"Um, yeah. She was," I answered nervously, hoping to keep it hidden because she was closer than ever right now.

"I'm pretty sure you know why she didn't want you to come here, right?" she asked, with a slight smirk on her face. She was clearly having a good time.

"Of course," I answer, trying to cover up my nervousness. Having her so near to me makes my knees shaky, like jello. Her stares make my knees wobble.

"She didn't want me coming here because she'll be alone, and we've never been separated this long, it'll be new to her, to me as well," I reply, looking wherever I can to avoid facing her because I know it'll be a dead end for me if I do.

"Come on, that's not all of it, isn't it?" she nudged me

"I'm not blind, I know the main reason why williamson doesn't want you to come here is because of me" she said with that annoying smirk on her face that I desperately wanted to erase

I just nodded and tucked my lips because she got it right

"What does she say about me? I bet she told you I was bad influence" she said and laughed

“You should surely take your older sister's advice, don't you think?"

"Like the good girl you are," she said, smirking.

We fell silent and let the breeze wash over us.

She drew nearer as I walked toward the doorway, placing both of her arms on either side of the rail to enclose me.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence? Do you agree with your sister?"

I look at her and see her eyes piercing at me, green with a tint of brown, she looked breathtaking. I felt like I could drown in her eyes.

"I don't think you are," I responded, swallowing hard.

"I'm your sister's rival, and yet you still stick with me?"

"I don't think you'd like it if I ignored you, though," I muttered, glancing down because just looking at her makes me want to pass out.

She tilted her head in such a way that it gave me butterflies. Lord, when will this end?

"Why so?" she inquired, completely teasing me.

"Would you like me to ignore you for the entire season, ale?" I said back.

She pouted at me, seeming to think about what she was about to say.

"Hmm, no. It would make me sad," she teased, smiling.

"Sad, why?" I inquired, still smiling.

"Because if I were to ignore you, that would make your sister feel relieved that I'm not circling you. I want her to be mad at me and for her to feel annoyed because it makes me happy." She grinned and moved closer to me.

"You're really messed up in the head, ale," I joke, pushing more against the rail because if I don't, you know what would happen.

"I want her to be annoyed, I want her to be angry at me, I want her to feel all the emotions," she said as she locked her gaze on mine. Her eyes seemed to want to express more, as if there was more to what she said.

"Which is why i won't be leaving you"

She whispered and stared at me for what seemed like hours. She was just staring at me, as if she was trying to memorise my face. I felt very vulnerable.

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to ignore you?" I asked, leaning closer to accept her challenge.

"Do you think there's something more?" she replied, edging closer to me until our faces were almost touching.

"I know there is"

I'm so sorry for leaving u w a cliffhanger 😭😭 i promise you there is a part 2! THERE WILL BE A PART 2 👹👹

Dm me if u wanna know some bits of the next part 😎