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xichilie · 2 months ago

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IM SICK AND FEVERISH ABOUT BRANT HGAH

🍣 anon hath returned, the soulmate au was DELIGHTFUL. Thank you so so much!!

I WISH YOU LUCK IN PULLING. I had some absolutely wild luck, first ten pull on both his and his weapons banner. Insanity

ABSOLUTELY adored your most recent Brant post, but now I'm thinking about a stage kiss. For a performance, would he go full tilt, full contact and declare his love through the stage lines? Or would he slip his hand or a finger over your lips at the last second, promising it be only until he could kiss you properly?

Congratulations 🎊

Hello 🍣

I was pretty lucky, too. I got him and his weapon 🤭

Brant x (fem)reader

"The Kiss That Wasn’t"

Fool’s Elysium had never been so quiet.

The cavernous hideout, usually filled with raucous laughter and the chaotic energy of performers in motion, now held its breath. Firelight flickered against the worn wooden stage, casting golden shadows across two figures standing at its center.

Brant thrived under this kind of pressure. The hush of an audience hanging onto every breath, the delicate balance between performance and reality—it was a stage made for a man like him.

And yet, tonight, something was different.

Tonight, she was in front of him.

Y/N stood with squared shoulders, her expression unreadable despite the storm of emotion written into the script. One hand hovered near her chest, the other clenched at her side as though holding something back.

Brant had memorized every line, every cue, every carefully choreographed motion. He knew what came next. He was supposed to step forward, take her hand, and—

Kiss her.

It was the grand moment of the act, the culmination of rising tension. A declaration written in stage directions rather than words.

Brant had kissed plenty of co-stars before. He had swept them into dips, pressed lips together in the name of art, played the dashing rogue with effortless charm.

But now? With her?

A sharp breath left his lips as he moved closer. His fingers ghosted over Y/N’s wrist, sliding up, tracing a path toward her jaw. His touch was light, as if testing something—waiting for a sign that wasn’t scripted.

The audience waited.

She wasn’t backing away.

And for the first time in his life, Brant hesitated.

It was a second too long. A pause too loaded.

His heart hammered in his chest, drowning out the carefully rehearsed melody swelling beneath them. The firelight turned her eyes into molten gold, and for a wild, reckless moment, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be utterly and completely undone.

He could kiss her now. Let the world fade. Let the story carry them.

But no.

Not like this.

Just before their lips could meet, Brant raised his fingers, pressing them lightly against her mouth.

The air thickened. The unscripted choice turned the moment into something raw, something alive.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the barest shift in her expression—surprise? Amusement? Understanding?

Brant let his lips part just enough to murmur, voice low, meant only for her.

"Not yet."

A promise.

A delay.

A declaration in disguise.

The music swelled. The moment passed. The play continued.

But for Brant, the real story had only just begun.

When the performance ended, the cavern erupted into cheers, the Troupe members whistling and clapping at the particularly intense scene. The excitement was palpable, voices chattering about the improvised moment that had made the scene so much more compelling.

But Brant?

Brant had vanished.

Y/N found him perched atop a stone ledge overlooking the main hall, one leg swinging lazily over the edge, the other propped up as he leaned back against the cavern wall. A half-empty bottle of wine rested beside him, likely stolen from the Troupe’s stash.

The moment he saw her approach, a slow grin stretched across his face.

"Ah, my lovely co-star,” he purred, extending his arms as if inviting an embrace. “Come to sing my praises? To tell me how utterly dazzling I was?"

Y/N crossed her arms.

"You changed the scene."

Brant gasped, a hand flying to his chest as if mortally wounded. "What? Me? Change the sacred text of our craft? I would never—"

"Brant."

The single utterance of his name made him drop the act—at least for a second. His grin, though still playful, softened at the edges.

He sighed dramatically, stretching his arms over his head before flopping onto his back. "Alright, fine. You caught me." He turned his head to look at her. "But it was better that way, wasn't it?"

Y/N didn't answer immediately.

Brant watched her carefully, studying the way she weighed her response.

And then, she smirked.

Oh.

Oh, that was dangerous.

Brant felt something twist in his chest, something warm, something thrillingly out of his control.

"You’re impossible," she finally said.

"And yet, here you are," he countered, grinning. "Curious, that."

She turned as if to leave

And Brant, ever the opportunist, reached out, catching her wrist.

He didn’t pull her back. Didn’t force the moment.

He simply held her there, thumb brushing absentmindedly over her pulse point.

When she turned to face him again, there was no teasing in his expression.

No theatrics.

No performance.

Just Brant.

"I meant it, you know," he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught. "Meant what?"

Brant lifted his free hand, brushing his fingers—just briefly—over her lips, echoing the gesture from the stage.

"Not yet," he whispered.

Not under the stage lights.

Not with an audience watching.

Not as a performance.

But one day. One day.

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he winked—

And slipped away into the shadows, laughter trailing behind him like a final bow.

Leaving Y/N standing there, heart pounding, wondering just who had truly won this round.

The script remained unchanged.

The lines untouched.

But when the moment came—when Brant once again traced his fingers toward Y/N’s lips, when he prepared to repeat his “not yet”—

She caught his wrist first.

Brant froze.

His usual confidence faltered for the briefest second, his pulse skipping as he stared at her in surprise.

Her fingers curled gently around his wrist, holding him there.

And then—she smirked.

Brant barely had time to react before she leaned in, just close enough for her lips to brush the tips of his fingers.

“Not yet.”

She whispered it so softly that only he could hear.

The audience never knew why Brant’s next line came a second too late.

But he did.

And for the first time in his life, Brant found himself utterly, completely smitten.

#wuwa brant #brant wuwa #brant x reader #wuthering waves brant #brant #wuthering waves #x reader #oc x character #x y/n #x you #wuthering waves x reader #brant wuthering waves #cute

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kthologue · 1 year ago

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Ok so this is a random and weird scenario i thought of after watching some INTERESTING videos on YouTube, I know but I just need to tell someone(it involves lovesick!Gojo- and no this isn’t a request, more like a rant😭)

imagine- it’s summer and all the second year students are sweating and want something cool to eat. Satoru randomly brings in a watermelon and challenges the others to try and open it without any cursed energy or a knife, just pure raw strength. Nobody can do it except him and he laughs a bit before reader crushes the watermelon between her thighs and opens it just like that…IDK Y I THOUGHT OF THIS AND IDK HOW HE WOULD REACT TO THAT BUT I IMAGINE HE WOULD BE RED IN THE FACE AND LIKE ‘me next🙋‍♂️’ IM SRY IM AWARE THIS IS VERY WEIRD😭😭

2:35pm — gojo satoru

synopsis. a certain challenge makes gojo go feral for you

contents. fluff, CRACK, lovesick!gojo, he is (highkey) a pervert, everyone in jujutsu tech is sick of him

“The one and only Gojo Satoru is here to save the day~” The familiar drawl of a sing-song voice calls over the sound of the dingy fan that you and Shoko were huddling in front of. Both of you were sprawled on a tatami mat with the door wide hoping, hoping to catch a gust of wind.

The grin adorned on his face didn't falter when his only response was three annoyed groans.

“It is way too hot for your antics Gojo,” You look up from the fan to half heartedly glare at the white haired boy in front of you. He stares at you, blue eyes slightly wider than usual before he gulps. You brush it off, knowing that you probably looked like a mess, considering you had just finished training in the sweltering Tokyo heat.

Your usual uniform is long gone, replaced with the dress shirt that you wear below it. Even with the undershirt and your skirt, you’re still suffering from the particularly hot day, skin glowing in the sun as a silent testament.

Gojo is forcibly kicked out of his trance upon Suguru harshly bumping shoulders with him.

“Show them what we got,” Suguru’s smooth voice says. Your eyes follow down to whatever he was referring to.

Without any difficulty, Satoru holds up a large watermelon proudly. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight of the large green fruit. How refreshing!

“Ah you didn’t have to go through the trouble after your mission, Suguru!” You leap from your spot, a bright smile painting itself on your face.

The pleased look on Satoru’s face turns sour. “I was the one that brought the watermelon?” He lifts the large fruit, flexing the muscles that were showcased from his dress shirt being cuffed up to his forearms.

“I should be the one getting the thanks, it was my idea to get it in the first place,” Shoko wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The taller boys in front of you look sheepishly away under her stern gaze.

You wrap an affectionate arm around her, “You’d make a good wife one day Shoko.”

Gojo’s jaw drops incredulously, leaning closer into your face, “What about me? [Name]! Wouldn’t I be a good doting husband too?”

You lean away, flustered at his sudden confrontation. His intense blue orbs never leave your face, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shoko snorts, shielding you from his heavy gaze. “Anyways, how are we going to cut this thing? You brought a knife didn’t you?”

…

There is a long silence shared between the four of you.

You think you see an irk mark appear on Suguru’s forehead.

“I clearly told you to bring a knife from the kitchen,” Suguru snaps his head to his white haired counterpart.

“Must’ve slipped my mind, heh,” Satoru whistles. “We can just break it ourselves, no?”

TEN MINUTES LATER—

“Ready,” Satoru’s smile grows wide. “Go!”

You watch expectantly as Shoko’s hand descends onto the watermelon in a swift chop. To your shock, the watermelon stays unharmed despite the legs of the wooden table below it creaking loudly.

“Wha–?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

Satoru shrugs, “Better stop smoking and start training. You’re falling behind~”

You and Geto have to hold Shoko back from lunging at the smug white haired bastard.

“Next challenger, step up!” Satoru announces.

Fueled with hunger and the desire to get your hands on the juicy watermelon that awaits, you sit down on the cement floor of the school with the watermelon in your lap.

You gently place the fruit in between your thighs, inhaling slowly.

Squish!

The watermelon breaks in half with a crunch.

“Oh,” You blink in shock, surprised that your plan managed to work. “I did it.”

Your joy is short lived when you realize that your legs are sticky as a result of the juices of the fruit. A sheepish smile makes its way onto your lips.

“Gah–?!” Gojo chokes on air as he watches your thighs glisten with the sunlight. Though his mouth is agape, no words seem to escape. He’s nearly certain that the heat rushing throughout his body is not from the sun.

Shoko whistles, squatting down to eye level with your thigh to assess the damage done. She gives your thigh a good squeeze, “Nice legs.”

You’re too flustered to hear Gojo growl from just a couple of feet away at Shoko’s shameless attempt at flirting.

“My face next.”

extras:

- the only reason why satoru forgot to get a knife was because he was practically skipping to you once he got through the gates of jujutsu tech. suguru was nice enough to spare these details from you.

- despite all sorcerers being able to detect cursed energy, gojo satoru is pretty exceptional, being able to mask his cursed energy usage. that, and you were too tired to even notice it. (he lightly coated the watermelon right when each person went up to break it. suguru noticed immediately, but wanted to see how the prank would play out).

#was i sober writing this? errrrr #kt.fantasies—!#gojo x reader #jjk fluff

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alicewrotethis · 5 months ago

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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞﹒𝐩𝐭 𝟑

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! atsumu misses you while hes away, one call couldnt hurt, right? ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip! a. miya x artist! oblivious! reader, nsfw, phone sex, use of good girl, sue me ﹒ ◠ note!! final part! but if u want a part 4 or more atsumu content lmk! that banner makes me absolutely feral.. ౨ wc!! 3k ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood!! series playlist

[part one] [part two] [part four]

The apartment had felt quieter than normal, a stillness settling in that seemed to press against the walls. You sighed as you leaned into the couch, your phone resting in your hand. The sound of the narrators on the TV filled the living room.

He had left early two mornings ago, his departure marked by the sound of his suitcase wheels rolling down the hallway and his usual mix of excitement and nerves barely contained in his voice. The away game was a big deal to Atsumu, he'd spent the entire week leading up to it alternating between trash-talking the competition and pacing the living room as he ran through game strategies in his head.

You'd watched him as he packed, his energy electric as he tossed jerseys and clothes into his bag, muttering to himself about making sure to not forget his lucky socks. His excitement had been infectious then, filling the apartment and masking the thought of how quiet it would feel without him there, but now, with him gone, the absence was sharp and unavoidable.

You couldn't help but think of all the moments he usually filled, his loud singing while he made breakfast, his playful teasing whenever he caught you lost in thought, and the way he had a habit of draping his large body across the couch, leaving you to sit on the floor in front of him, and how you'd talk about everything and nothing until the night blurred into the morning. Two days without any of it, and the apartment already felt like a completely different place.

Your fingers tightened around your phone as you stared at the last text he sent, a picture of his team's pre-game warm-up. He looked so happy, his usual wide grin plastered on his face as he held up a peace sign with Hinata and Bokuto in the background. You smiled faintly, proud of him, but at the same time, you shouldn't shake the growing ache of missing him. His voice, his presence, and all the little ways he made the apartment feel like home.

The arena was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the sharp whistle of the referee cutting through the noise. Atsumu wiped the sweat from his brow, gripping a water bottle as he stood with the team during the timeout.

On the surface, he looked every bit the confident setter, but his mind wasn't fully in the game. It's not as if he was playing bad, he just couldn't stop his mind from drifting.

He reached for him phone hidden away in his bag beside the bench and unlocked it to find the last text you'd sent. It was something simple, so you, a casual 'im watching, you'll do great tsum!', but he read it three times already, letting the warmth of your words replace some of the restless energy buzzing in his chest. Atsumu wasn't one to admit things easily, not even to himself, but he felt your absence more than he thought he would.

He hadn't expected it to be this quiet without you. Sure, his teammates were loud and the atmosphere during away games was electric, but it wasn't the same. There was a certain calmness in your presence, even when you weren't doing anything particularly remarkable. Whether it was your clueless remarks when he tried to joke with you, and the way you'd absentmindedly hum as you worked on something. You made the apartment and his world feel alive in a way he didn't think anybody could.

The hotel hallway was quiet, the faint hum of fluorescent lights being the only sound as Atsumu stepped off the elevator, his duffel bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. His footsteps were muffled against the carpet, but inside, everything felt loud, his heartbeat, the rush of thoughts swirling in his head, and the nagging ache in his chest he couldn't quite shake.

The match had been grueling, leaving his body sore and his mind buzzing. Normally, the adrenaline would still be carrying him, the thrill of a victory filling every corner of his being, but as he entered his room, tossing his bag onto the floor, he couldn't help but feel hollow. The cheers from the crowd and celebrations with his teammates felt miles away now, unable to touch the strange emptiness that followed him.

Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the stark, unfamiliar ceiling. Atsumu wasn't one to dwell on things, he liked to keep moving, to fill the quiet with noise, jokes, or distractions, but tonight, the silence wrapped around him, heavy and unrelenting. He hated it.

His hand reached for his phone almost instinctively. Opening your chat, he scrolled through the texts from earlier, his lips twitching at the teasing banter and you congratulating him on his win. Even through the screen, your personality came through so clearly, sharp, cute, funny, and effortlessly grounding. But the texts weren't enough. They were just words. He wanted more. He wanted you.

For a second, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. Would you think it was weird? It was late, and he didn't even have an excuse other than the gnawing need to hear your voice. But before he could second-guess himself, he tapped it, holding the phone to his ear as the line began to ring.

Each ring made his chest tighten, the seconds stretching unbearably. What if you didn't pick up? What if-

"Hello?" Your voice came through, soft but tinged with curiosity, "Tsum? Isn't it late over there?"

Hearing you felt like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long, he closed his eyes, letting the tension ease just slightly.

"Yeah," He said, his voice quieter than usual," I just... wanted to hear your voice,"

There was a pause, one that felt like an eternity, before you laughed lightly. It wasn't the full, unrestrained laugh he loved hearing, but it was enough to make the corners of his mouth lift.

"Well, here it is," You teased gently, "How was the win?"

"Didn't feel the same, s'too quiet here without you," He said softly, his grin forming despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

Your silence this time was heavier, but not uncomfortable, he could almost imagine you sitting in your favorite spot on the balcony, processing his words, maybe fiddling with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly or biting your lip in that way that always seemed to undo him.

"I miss you too," You said finally, and it hit him like a wave. It wasn't dramatic, not even particularly vulnerable, but it was enough.

The words settled between you, like a shared secret neither of you wanted to disturb.

Atsumu let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, running a hand through his hair as a faint chuckle escaped him. But this time, it wasn't the lighthearted sound you were used to, it was softer, lower, as if you reached a part of him no one else ever had.

"Wish I could be there right now," He murmured, his voice dipping into something that made warmth bloom in your chest, "Not just to fill the quiet, but... I dunno, to see you, to really be with you,"

The words hit you harder than you expected, the honesty in them leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn't teasing or trying to smooth-talk his way out of an awkward moment, it was just Atsumu, bare and unguarded in a way he rarely let himself be.

"You'll be back soon, right, tsum?" You replied, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow. There was a tremor in your voice, a longing you couldn't quite hide.

"Not soon enough," He shot back, the grin audible in his voice now, though there was a tension underneath it, "You've got no idea how much I-"

He cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. A beat of silence passed, his breathing uneven as he tried to find the courage to finish.

"Tsum?" You asked softly, your voice threading through the phone like a lifeline. It wasn't teasing, not this time, it was laced with something gentler, something that made his pulse hammer in his chest.

His name on your lips was enough to undo him. He exhaled sharply, and when he spoke, his voice was lower, rougher like he was balancing on the edge of restraint, "Ya don't make it easy for me, y'know," He murmured, his words drawn out, heavy with something unsaid.

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, his tone rich with a tension you couldn't ignore. There was no playful edge to it now, just raw honesty, dipped in a yearning that made your breath hitch.

"Every time I hear your voice," He continued, his voice rasping like he was barely holding himself together, "Its like... it's like you're right here, and I cant- I cant stop thinkin' about what it'd be like if ya were. If I could see you, touch you, hear you laugh 'cause yer too nervous to do anything else."

Atsumu's words were heavy, unfiltered, dripping with a longing that practically reached through the phone. You could hear the way his breathing shifted, uneven and shallow like he was struggling against the weight of what he was feeling. And then, a low, guttural groan slipped past his lips, quiet but undeniably raw, sending a wave of heat through you.

"God," He groaned out, "You've got no idea what yer doin' to me, do ya? I can't even think straight when it's you, the way ya talk, the way ya say my name like it's the only thing that matters..." His words trailed off into a shaky exhale as he palmed himself through his shorts.

You felt your face grow hot, your heart pounding so hard it was a wonder he couldn't hear it through the phone. You felt your core pool in your shorts as you listened to his shaky breathing.

"Tsum..." You whispered, your voice soft but laced with an edge of vulnerability you couldn't hide.

"Say it again," He interrupted, his tone almost desperate now, "Say my name,"

The way he said it sent another shiver through you, his voice dipping into something deeper, something that wrapped around you like a vice. And before you could stop yourself, you obeyed, his name falling from your lips in a way that left him completely undone.

"Shit," He let out a breathy moan, his breath ragged, "Im losin' it over here, I don't even care, just- just keep talkin' okay? Dont stop, needa' hear ya,"

His words were a plea, his tone dripping with an unrestrained intensity that left you dizzy. Every syllable seemed to pull you in further.

Atsumu couldn't handle the way his dick throbbed against his shorts, he craved and yearned for the sweet release, the intensity of his need, or his desire to hear you and feel you all too much, all past exhaustion seemingly slipping away with the shorts now wrapped around his thighs.

"Can never get enough of ya," The confession hung in the air like a promise.

You felt your fingers subconsciously trail down your body with soft whimpers as you listened to Atsumu, your noises only pushing him further.

"Ya gonna touch yerself? Wanna hear ya moanin' my name, need it s'bad," He said, his voice desperate as he began slowly stroking himself to the sound of your whimpers. He imagined how much better they'd sound if he was there, touching you, replacing the fingers that were now sliding down your puffy slit.

His words echoed in your mind, sending another rush of warmth through your veins, it made your heart race and your walls clench around nothing.

You closed your eyes, imagining how he looked with his big hands wrapped around his dick, imagining the blush that would spread across his face, how his skin would feel against your own.

"Bet ya look so cute right now, huh?" He let out, the strokes on his cock were steady as he bucked his hips up into his hand, letting the pleasure take over him in shuddering groans.

Your fingers were coated in your own wetness, you couldn't muster up anything, too nervous to form a sentence so you let your sounds do the talking for you. You slid a finger into your aching pussy, a soft moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

Atsumu smirked as he imagined the sight, "Just like that, fuck, ya sound so pretty, say my name," Atsumu mewled through gritted teeth, trying his best to hold onto his composure as his biceps trembled, pumping his cock sloppily, precum leaking from his tip and into his stroking hands.

"Tsum," You said in a low, drawn-out moan, the weight of his words spurring you on, leading you to insert another finger, you were glad he couldn't see the deep red that painted your cheeks.

"Hah, I bet you'd take me so well, wanna show ya how much I miss ya," He panted, feeling the all too familiar feeling of his climax swirling in his chest.

You slid your fingers in and out at a stable pace, the pleasure creeping up your spine as you arched your back, your clit rubbing against the flat of your palm forcing soft whimpers of need.

"Feels so good," You babbled, placing the phone down next to you on speaker so you could use your now free hand to rub circles on your clit. Your thighs trembled and your hips jerked up.

Atsumu's strokes became sloppy and messy as he neared the edge, "Are ya close? W-Want ya to cum with me," His voice wavered, his eyes now closed, fully concentrating on the sounds that were emitting from your mouth.

You felt your orgasm seeping into your core, the shake of your legs, the arch of your back, your mind was running wild.

"Yes, fuck, tsum, want you so bad," You mewled, the sound of your fingers sliding in and out of you filling the room.

The sound of your pussy drove Atsumu crazy, "Cum, baby, cum for me, yer such a good girl,"

His words were enough to make you spill over the edge, your orgasm hit you hard, and you couldn't contain the loud moan that erupted from your throat as your thighs snapped shut, your eyes rolling back in pure bliss.

Atsumu's climax followed soon after, being pushed by the sounds of your orgasm and the chanting of his name over and over. Ropes of white painted his hand and his jersey as groans of pure euphoria filled his hotel room, his hips jutting up into his fist to ride out his high with a shuddering groan.

The silence that followed was thick, hanging heavily between you. You both knew something had shifted, but neither of you seemed ready to acknowledge it. Atsumu was the first to break the quiet, his voice softer than it had been before, tinged with uncertainty.

"Uh, sorry, I-" He trailed off, the words clearly not coming out the way he'd intended. You could hear the tension in his tone and the way he was trying to find the right thing to say, but the weight of everything that had just passed was making it hard.

Another long pause stretched between you. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn't easy either. You could feel your heart beating a little faster than usual, your mind racing with thoughts. What does this mean? Where do we go from here?

"It's okay," You replied softly.

Atsumu let out a shaky breath, "You're sure its okay? 'Cause I... I didn't mean to make things weird,"

It was endearing, the way he still seemed unsure despite how confident he usually was. That vulnerability made the whole situation feel different, somehow. It was like both of you had just crossed a line that neither of you were prepared for, and now you were both trying to figure out what the next step was.

Atsumu took off his jersey and stared into the phone screen at your contact name, waiting for your next response.

"Yeah," You said, finally, your voice quiet, "It's just... a lot. I didn't expect... this," You weren't sure how else to put it, but he seemed to understand, his next words coming out more slowly, more carefully.

"I get it, I didnt either, guess I'm just... not great with this kind of thing, but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable," He admitted, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Your chest tightened a little at his words, and you found yourself smiling despite the awkwardness, "I'm not uncomfortable, just... processing,"

He let out a small laugh, a nervous one, "Yeah, me too, this is weird, huh?"

You both laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. It wasn't perfect, but it was something. You weren't sure where this would lead, or if it should lead anywhere, but for now, the air between you had shifted, and there was something strangely comforting about knowing you weren't the only one feeling a little lost in all of this.

"I guess we'll figure it out huh?" You said, your voice was a little more steady now, as you both tried to make sense of the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Atsumu's response was quieter. but there was a gentleness there, "Yeah... we will."

navigation !

[part one]

[part two]

[part four]

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ladyymiisa · 1 year ago

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ENTRANCED

summary: you’re japan’s most famous singer and hawks is your biggest fan

tags: hawks x f!reader, singer!reader, fanboy!hawks, feminine pronouns used for reader, fluff, hawks is such a loser i love him

author’s note: umm mha brainrot has been going crazy ever since the new season trailer dropped,, i might make a part two for this since im literally such a sucker for the popstar trope,, also this is such an indulgent fic for me i am so sorry chat

thinking about hawks.

hawks, who besides being japan’s number two hero, is also a man entitled to have his own passions and interests to indulge in, despite his incredibly busy line of work. and one of those interests is you.

radiant, talented, spectacular you, who japan had classified as its top favourite singer. rising to the tops in a short matter of time despite being a young adult, you’ve managed to make a name for yourself through your hard work. you had a certain image about you that lured people in, that made them want to see more of you.

you were absolutely gorgeous, with bright eyes that shone with excitement whenever you got on the stage, a smile that held nothing but affection for your fans as you talked to them during your meet-and-greets, and an aura so powerful that it made them want to have their eyes on you at all times. everyone was enamoured by you, and slowly but surely, hawks found himself caught in your love-net as well.

during one of his patrols (which was surprisingly peaceful considering the amount of people that usually stopped to either take a picture with him or ask for his autograph), he couldn’t help the whistle that fell from his lips upon seeing your image showcased on a luxurious shop’s glass window.

you had just recently done a collaboration with the brand, proudly showing off their clothes and accessories on your instagram stories—which he all hearted, by the way—and boy was he glad you did. the clothing embraced your body perfectly, hugging your curves and enhancing your attractiveness, as if you were made to wear them. you looked breathtaking, and hawks couldn’t find the strength to pry himself away from the glass window.

and don’t get me wrong, your appearance isn’t the only thing that lured him in. your voice won him over the second he decided to watch one of your music videos. the public wasn’t lying, your singing was mesmerising! despite how the music genre wasn’t particularly his favourite, the hero found himself going through all of your albums, singles and even listening to the songs you were featured on. after about three hours of continuous listening, hawks already had a playlist made with all of his favourite songs.

his favourite album is your first one. it really embraces your authenticity with its heartfelt lyrics and story behind it, about some of the hardest moments in your life. he remembers you saying in one interview that said album was the closest to your heart since it was the one that made you reach the tops, and also because it was the first album you wrote on your own. it was raw and sincere, much like the ones that came after, but it was clear that none could compare to the very first.

all in all, you could say that hawks is your biggest fan.

his apartment has a special corner in which he keeps all of your merch. from posters, vinyls, shirts and even exclusive plushies, this man has everything. sometimes he feels cringe for being such a diehard fanboy, but hey, he deserves to have the luxury of indulging in something as normal as having a small very big celebrity crush.

also, he definitely follows multiple stan accounts dedicated to you. pictures taken at any of your concerts? he has them saved. a very cool edit on tiktok of you while you’re performing? he’s hitting the like and favourite buttons immediately. like, this man spends countless hours looking at pictures of you on pinterest while he’s giggling and kicking his feet like a lovesick middle school girl.

and it’s no secret that hawks is your fan. almost everyone at his agency knows, especially since he makes no effort to hide it. not from his agency, and not from the media either. one time during a public interview, one reporter asked him if he had any favourite singers, in hopes of gathering more personal information about the hero, and hawks didn’t hesitate for a second before responding with, “y/n, of course! she’s incredibly talented and i love her music. i think i know all of her songs by heart, haha!” to which the media went wild.

of course, being the devious little shit that he is, hawks made the information public with the intention of gaining your attention. and to his delight, it did. not even a day after the interview was posted online, he woke up with two notifications from his instagram. the poor hero almost dropped his phone from ten feet up high in the air after reading the name of the account who messaged him.

y/nofficial

hey :)

heard you like my music, how about a free vip ticket to come meet me backstage after my next concert? <3

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Secret II

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You come to training

Ingrid will forever remember the look of shock on everyone's face when she walks into the locker room with you on her hip.

They all wear varying looks of shock on their faces as Ingrid waltzes in, refusing to act like anything is out of the ordinary.

Your head swivels around as you take in everyone looking at you before you grunt.

Ingrid knows that sound well as she places you on the floor, taking that god-awful ladybug toy out of her bag. You slam your hand on the button and it starts singing its jolly tune, the sound echoing around the otherwise silent locker room.

You clap your hands in amusement as Ingrid turns around to change.

"So you finally brought her then?" Frido teases and Ingrid rolls her eyes.

"I was convinced."

She looks meaningfully to where you've now been joined by Mapi on the floor. The Spaniard has no qualms about sitting with you, oohing awwing over your toy as you babble at her.

She nods along like you've imparted the truth of the world onto her and she presses the button on your ladybug when it stops again.

"Really?" She coos at you," That's so interesting! You're so smart!"

The rest of the locker room is completely silent until Jenni speaks.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say...What the hell?!"

"It's a baby," Mapi says before Ingrid can speak," Isn't she cute?" She lifts you up under your armpits. You sag in her arms like baby Simba as Mapi proudly presents you to the others. "She's so cool. She can push buttons all by herself!"

Frido laughs. "I think lots of babies can do that, Mapi. Ingrid's Skatt isn't special."

"Don't say that!" Mapi gasps," You can hurt her self-esteem!" She turns you around so she can look at you. "You're very smart! So, so smart! Pushing buttons and singing all by yourself!"

Ingrid's made peace with the fact that she's probably not getting you back this entire training session. She thinks the coaches have also made peace with the fact that there will be no training being done either.

This training session has been highjacked by you and Mapi. Even the more standoffish girls have been won over by you.

Frido isn't much help either, constantly bringing up things like she had known you for years and not the five months you had been alive.

"Show them the bumblebee outfit! Show them the bumblebee!" Frido cajoles as everyone sits in the shade together on the pitch. "Come on, Ingrid! She looks so cute as a bee!"

You're sat happily in Mapi's lap as Jana and Bruna coo over you. You're particularly interested in the fact that they have fingers, tugging and pulling on them before forcing them to touch the button on your ladybug.

"Bumblebee?" The words catch Mapi's attention who sits up fully as Ingrid goes through her camera roll.

"My mother sent it when she was still little."

She flips the phone around so everyone can see you wearing your special bumblebee sleep suit. You look completely peaceful in the picture and Ingrid scrolls along to show you dressed as a spider and an ant.

"This is the most recent one."

It's you sitting in front of your ladybug, dressed like a ladybug too. You've got your fingers in your mouth and you're staring at your toy with such concentration that it's kind of funny.

"She's adorable," Irene coos," My wife is pregnant. I know it is different but...the club...they are good with you needing to be with her?"

"They pay for her babysitter," Ingrid replies," They're perfectly happy with her. Isn't that right, skatt?"

You turn your head to look at her at the call of your nickname. You stare for a moment before grunting and going back to clapping along to your ladybug.

"She seems very smart. She knows her name," Marta continues.

"Ingrid's got her trained," Frido teases," She whistles and Skatt stops exactly what she's doing to listen. She likes a little dog."

Ingrid swats at her. "Stop calling my daughter a dog."

"Yeah, Frido," Mapi butts in," You're going to ruin her self-esteem."

"I don't think you'll let anyone do that. Is Ingrid getting her kid back or are you keeping her forever?"

Mapi shrugs. "I don't mind keeping this little cutie. She and Ingrid can move into my place. I'll take good care of you, skatt. Yes, I will."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "I think you need to prove you can take care of yourself first, Mapi."

"That's why Ingrid's moving in too, obviously. I can't separate this little beauty from her mama. That would make her sad!"

"Sure," Ingrid hears Leila mutter," That's the reason you want Ingrid to move in."

You whine a little as your ladybug stops singing and Ingrid instantly knows what that means.

"Give her here," She says," Someone needs a nap."

You're passed from Mapi to Ingrid and you conk out fast asleep on her chest almost as soon as you're settled there. Your soft puffs of breath tickle Ingrid's collarbone and she gently runs her fingers through your soft, downy hair.

"Oh!" Mapi says.

Her cheeks go a little red as she digs around in her bag.

"I know she likes ladybugs and I'm sorry if this oversteps boundaries or anything but here. For Skatt."

Ingrid tucks the little ladybug plushie under your arms and you instantly curl into it.

"It's beautiful, Mapi," Ingrid says, pressing a soft kiss to Mapi's bright red cheek," Thank you for thinking of her."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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chibinasuu · 6 months ago

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My Jolly Sailor Bold | Straw Hats x Reader

★ requested by @supernatural-hunter1 (see here)

Summary: You found yourself humming an old song from your childhood as you mend the sails of the Thousand Sunny Tags: sfw, platonic straw hats x reader, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

The Thousand Sunny floated on the open ocean, in near stillness due to the absence of the sails upon its masts.

You sat on the deck, humming a tune as old as time as you deftly thread a needle through the vast fabric draped all around you, sewing shut a large tear down its length.

A run-in with particularly violent weather had caused some damage to the ship, forcing the crew to momentarily stop in the middle of the now-calm waters for emergency repairs. Franky and Usopp were fixing the splintered railing, and Jinbe had just returned from his underwater inspection below the ship to check for leaks in the hull. Meanwhile, the others were clearing up the deck from debris brought over by the storm.

Your fingers danced upon the sail on autopilot – in and out, in and out. It had become your responsibility to mend the sails anytime damage occurred, even though you knew that Robin, with her powers, could do the job in seconds. But whenever the crew was not in a hurry, you found yourself volunteering for the task, finding it enjoyable and even calming.

Your hums slowly turned into song as you recalled the words to the tune, passed on long ago by your mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her.

“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be.

Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea”

The faint call of the seabirds flying high above complimented your voice, and the slow hammering of your hard-working shipwright provided a steady beat of accompaniment as you continued to softly sing,

“While up aloft in storm, from me his absence mourn

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he's never more to roam”

Some of the crew members near you had started to notice your somber melodies, hands unwittingly pausing in their tasks as if enchanted by a siren’s voice.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing–”

You abruptly stopped singing as you became aware of the sudden silence that washed over the deck. You looked up to see all of your crewmates watching you intently with fond smiles on their faces. Heat spread to your cheeks in embarrassment at their attention, and you covered your face with the sail you were stitching.

“Oh, please don’t stop, darling!” Sanji cooed loudly, “Please let me hear your wonderful voice again!”

Brook came over to you and remarked, “What a beautifully haunting song. I’ve never heard it before in all my life – or death! Yo ho ho ho!”

The musician pulled out his violin, trying to replicate the melodies based only on what he heard you sing. You helped him by humming the notes, and with the repetitive nature of the song, it only took an instant for the maestro to pick it up.

With Brook’s silent encouragement, you joined in the violin’s serenade, singing verse after verse of the song for the small audience.

“There is nothing can console me

But my Jolly Sailor Bold.”

The crew broke out in enthusiastic claps, wolf-whistles, and cheers as the song reached its end. You laughed sheepishly and took a playful bow, before shooing everyone back to their respective chores.

The catchy song seemed to have wormed its way into your crewmates’ heads, and over the next few days, you caught some of them absentmindedly humming the tune, or singing it with jumbled words as they have yet to memorize the lyrics.

Your heart warmed whenever you heard the melodies coming from your crewmates’ lips, breathing a new life to the previously half-forgotten song – a piece of your hometown carried over to your new home.

⟢ masterlist

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angelbarelywritesslashers · 5 months ago

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♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #tcm #thomas hewitt #house of wax #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #halloween #micheal myers x reader #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #the boy #dead by daylight #brahms heelsire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair

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utterlyazriel · 9 months ago

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whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: not gonna even acknowledge the time break between chappies... all i'm gonna say happy cassian chappie ! <3! i hope u all enjoy it mwah thank u for reading

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: Adjusting to life in Velaris means learning to train with new, friendly faces. A tentative friendship forms. Azriel keeps his distance.

CHAPTER NINE :: FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)

Whoosh.

Training staff gripped tightly in your calloused hands, you swing with a muscle memory built over decades, the stick whistling as it cuts through the air with deadly precision. Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard.

You're going through the motions. A simple warm-up, running a drill that you've done enough times you could probably do it in your sleep. The movements are familiar, easy. Routine.

If you close your eyes, you could almost imagine you're still in Exordor.

Except... there's no familiar wind current to perform its melody in the early morning, dancing through the mountainside trees. No frozen chill to the air around you. No crunch of snow beneath your feet to throw your balance. No bound chest to chafe your skin.

No looking over your shoulder in pure panic at every unexpected noise.

Well, not quite that last one. It's a habit you're dedicated to breaking for the sake of your shot nerves — but evidently failing, considering how you straighten up and whip around when the door leading out to the training ring shudders open.

You hold your breath on instinct and clutch the training staff tighter.

Stepping out into the early morning air, the dawn still unbroken, is another Illyrian warrior.

Mother, how many of them were there around here?

You hadn't got to meet anyone else after that encounter on the balcony, almost exactly one week ago. Hadn't exactly wanted to either.

You hadn't even wanted to see Azriel again so soon after the churning, sickening twist of emotions you had barely managed to stumble through after your severe reawakening.

He hadn't come to see you.

You hadn't asked.

Besides Madja, Rhysand was the only new face you had come to know. He had taken to coming by your room a couple times over the week, checking on the progress of your healing, particularly sympathetic on the state of your wings. Revealed his own with a polite flourish.

He was... different than you were expecting. Perhaps you were learning that rumours are not everything — certainly it's clear that there is more to Rhysand than what first appears.

As Highlord, he had to discuss your potential living situations once you were healed enough to leave the infirmary.

I meant what I said. He had said, violet eyes kind as he hovered at the end of your bed. You're no prisoner here. You'll be free to go wherever you wish, even back to Exordor if that's what you decide.

And if I don't? You had whispered, your gaze fixed on the fine sheets of the bed. If I decide that... I have no home there anymore?

Then you'll have a home here. For as long as you would like.

And though it overrode every single instinct you had learned to trust, everything that had kept you alive this long, you chose to take his word for it.

Rhys said no harm would befall you in Velaris and you would be welcome here for as long as wanted.

But... that didn't mean you were exactly looking to make new friends.

Staring the newcomer that enters the balcony with much less grace than that of usual Illyrians, you watch him closely, not quite daring to take a breath.

At a first glance, you had thought it might be Azriel—heart leaping up your throat—but that was quickly washed away. Something in you knew from the hair standing up on the nape of your neck, before you even saw him properly, that this male was utterly unfamiliar to you.

He's taller, you realise. His hair is a longer and he doesn't quite move with the grace of the Shadowsinger — though, perhaps you are just so unused to seeing a male so relaxed. So caught off guard, in fact, that when he turns he gives a little yelp in surprise.

"Fuck!" He says, one of his large hands jumping out and clenching into a fist —his whole body switching to a fighting stance, you realise— before he relaxes again. His fist uncurls into a less threatening open palm.

"I- sorry, just didn't realise anyone else was out here." His fighting stance melts away, open palm still extended. He gives what you think might be a friendly smile.

You don't respond, only gripping the training staff a little tighter. Every hackle is raised, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, and your entire body winding itself up to prepare to fight, if it comes down to it.

The male seems to realise this as his next move is to raise both hands, palms out, the universal signal for surrender. They're large, tanned, and void of the scars you've come to know on Azriel.

However, where there are usually shimmering cobalt blue siphons, this newcomer has dazzling ruby red ones instead. You count each of his. Seven.

Your throat tightens — like all of Illyria, you've heard of this warrior too. The Lord of Bloodshed.

He doesn't exactly look so fearsome at the moment, his expression easy-going, even friendly, from behind his raised hands.

He seems to be waiting for you to make a move or to speak but after a moment, he realises neither are going to happen.

"Rhys said there might be another Illyrian around." He says, taking a tentative step forward, in the direction of the training ring, letting his hands drop to his side. You notice how he tucks his wings in a little more, like he might be trying to be respectable. Polite.

He's watching you closely. "Didn't mention you were a female, though."

Instinct makes you want to sneer in response — the only time Illyrian males bother bring up the differences in sex is to make some nasty comment about the biological weakness of females.

Not born to be warriors. They spit. Fragility is bred into them from the moment they're conceived. Breakable. Less than. A female in the training ring has as much place does as a male does in the kitchen.

But this male... says female in a way you've never quite heard before. As though he's somewhere closer to awe.

"My name is Cassian," The male introduces himself, his tentative steps becoming more of a stroll as he wanders across to the weapons stand. He eyes them halfheartedly, his focus still on you.

He turns lightly, tucking in one of his wings to peer back at you. "And yours is...?"

You still haven't moved, only tracking his movements with a slight shift of your eyes. Part of you wonders if he already knows your name and he's simply being polite.

Cassian nods as though you've spoken, despite the fact you haven't made a sound.

"Okay, not a big talker, I get it." He dips his head in a little nod, giving you an easy smile, then a quick wink. "Promise I don't bite."

No reaction. You’re not entirely sure if that’s a joke or not.

Either way, Cassian turns and focuses on his selection, pulling one of the training staffs off the weapons rack into his strong, sure grip.

Despite Rhysand's promise, your heart begins to rabbit wildly.

You wonder if this is some sickening game of cat and mouse—if he's perhaps going to tire you out before he selects his true weapon. If he wants you to know he can best you, even without a blade at his disposal.

You're a decent fighter—hell, a great one even—but you know better than to expect to come out on top against the Lord of Bloodshed.

You finally force yourself to move; shifting your feet to face him, you sink into a fighting stance, staff poised to face him, prepared to bare your teeth.

Cassian blinks. It takes another moment for him to realise that none of his friendliness is working to thaw your iciness. He quickly sets the training staff back down with a clatter, raising his hands once more.

"Woah," He says, giving a small shake of his head. "Not looking to fight. Unless you and I are in that ring—" He gestures to the training ring behind him. "I will never try to fight you. And... I hope you can say the same for me."

You don't even realise you've released your breath until you deflate a little, relief coming in small, incremental waves.

He doesn't want to fight. There's no proving yourself, at least not today.

Maybe some day in the near future, he'll demand you get in the ring to earn your space here—because that was the first thing you ever learned as an Illyrian warrior. But not today.

Reluctant and relieved all at once, you lower your training staff.

Your hesitance or silence doesn't seem to hinder Cassian. In fact, he smiles at the motion.

He's quite handsome, you note. In that rugged way, not quite so classically handsome as Azriel. The unexpected thought makes you flush. You shake it away with a shiver.

"You have your reasons for your unease I bet," Cassian continues, his hands drifting back to his sides. His wings have begun to spread out a little more, as if relaxing.

"And if you want me to piss off, I certainly will. My goal is not to make you uncomfortable in the slightest. But... well, I do have just one question."

He pauses, as if waiting for something. Permission, you realise faintly, which surprises you enough that you give a rather jerky nod, permitting him to ask his question.

A brilliant smile spreads across Cassian's face. "Did you really stab Azriel with a fork?"

The question takes you by utter surprise, fresh bewilderment rippling across your features. You shift back almost awkwardly, stepping out of your fighting stance. The memory from months ago rises up inside, the first meeting in your lonely shelter.

How did he know that? He could he know that?

"I—" You trip over the words, not entirely sure how to answer the question. You can't quite tell why he's asking—is he assessing you as a threat? Your voice is tentative and guarded as you murmur out, "...yes?"

You don't think it would've mattered how you answered truly, as the moment you confirm it, Cassian roars in laughter, his head thrown back and his hand clutching his belly. He laughs loudly for a moment, shaking his head with a fond smile.

"Holy shit, I thought Rhys was kidding! Cauldron, what I would've given to see that." His hazel eyes glitter brightly, as though he's excited. "Was he surprised? I bet he was. Where did you stab him?"

His easy tone, like he's talking to an old friend, takes you back. You find yourself responding with an unexpected ease. Looking back on it now, it is a little funny.

"He was," You nod, nearly smiling at Cassian's enthusiasm. Your lips twitch and you gesture to your neck, somewhat awkwardly, miming the motion. "In the neck."

Cassian laughs again. "Oh, and I bet he'd deny the whole thing if it ever came up."

You don't know quite what to say to that—Azriel hadn't ever brought it up and you certainly weren't going to remind him of it. You tilt your head to the side a bit, an unknown feeling making itself known in the pit of your stomach. An anxiety of an entirely different kind.

The male before you is not an enemy. He's not an ally either... and you can't understand what he gains from talking to you.

You can't even fathom the idea that he might just want to be your friend.

So, you turn. Tighten your grip and resume the exercise that had been interrupted. Muscles groan as you work through their achiness, slowly becoming warmer as the hot blood pumps around your body.

Despite what Madja had said a week ago on that balcony, today was actually the first morning you were allowed to train.

For the last seven days, the exercise you were restricted to was mere stretches; only enough to ensure each of your wings could extend fully and that your limbs could move without serious cause for concern.

It had driven you stir crazy.

The only time you ever skipped so many days without training was during your cycle—something you had mercifully missed the end of this time around, hidden away in your unconsciousness.

So, at the first opportunity, when you rose from your bed this morning and Madja hadn't given you that pointed stare and instead gave you directions, you had found the training area. Began with old routines, if only for the fact you don't know who you are when you're not training.

Inhaling now, the wood of the training staff creaks beneath your iron grip. You're trying desperately to use it as a tether, to some semblance of normal for yourself. It's difficult when there's so many changes lurking.

The solid stone makes you sturdier than before. There's no snow beneath your feet to sink your boots into, to find your balance on. But your injuries aren't entirely healed either.

The pain is not fresh but it's still hindering enough to be a nuisance. Your left ear still twinges from time to time—sometimes it seems to hum so loudly you can't hear clearly, others it dulls altogether. Neither are particularly pleasant to experience.

Pain, however, you have plenty of experience in. Gritting your teeth and pushing through it is practically standard for the Illyrian way; especially when you know your body. You know how much it can take. You know it's been through worse.

But the pesky problem with your ear keeps you off balance, just enough that it shows in your motions.

You keep stumbling around like a goddamn fledgling with every new attempt, footing clumsy, which makes you burn in humiliation because that's what you learn first. It's impossible not to feel unendingly frustrated as decades of training all get shifted slightly to the left.

It doesn't help either that there's still those holes in the edges of your wings.

Fae healing is incredibly advanced but even so, there is only so much magic can do.

Lacerations can be healed, stabs and slices stitched up with ease — but a hole, torn forcibly in and through the delicate flesh of Illyrian wings? You know that you should be thanking the Mother that they even still work in their complete capacity.

The skin around where the stakes had been forced is puckered and stiff, whitened by the scar tissue and trauma. It had been sickening the first time you had curled them close around you and realised with a faint horror that you could technically see through them — a irregular circular gash preserved in either wing of how you'd been pinned down.

The air passes through them as you shift, causing an uneasy shiver. They don't catch on the wind quite the same as they did before.

You haven't taken to the skies yet. You're torn between your eagerness to fly again, to prove to yourself that they can still, and the sinking fear that that's something new you'll have to relearn as well.

So, instead, you run through the training drill for the nth time, trying to get back in sync with your own body. Trying to push past where it seems to falter and trying and failing to not care that your wavering movements now have an audience.

Watching him subtly out the corner of your eye, Cassian appears to be running drills of his own, a gentle warmup. He stretches his toned arms above his head, the motions limber and easy. Briefly, your mind wanders to Azriel's own morning training —never mind that you did have experience training with him over many mornings — and the most peculiar fluster flows through you.

You bite your cheek and rein in your drifting thoughts, gripping the staff tighter.

Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard. Your left eardrum squeals, jumping abruptly in volume at the motions, and though you manage to contain yourself to a wince, your twist goes off kilter.

Your wings stretch out to counterbalance but they don't catch the wind as well as you're used to. Your feet stumble to realign and all you can think is how fucking easy it would be decimate you in a fight in that second.

Something awful starts to grow in your throat and it takes a full moment to realise its the urge to cry, clawing up your throat.

You inhale shakily, eyes fixed on the stone beneath you, and will them away. You weren't a crier — but then again, never had you ever felt quite so utterly hopeless as you were right now.

You've always had this—always had the fight from within your bones, always had your body, always relied on your dexterity to push you forward.

Shadow covers the stone before you. Your head shoots ups, that same panic you can't shake jolting in your chest.

"Hi." Cassian says, giving a little two-fingered salute. He smiles kindly. "Cassian. We met maybe, uh, 5 minutes ago? Remember that?"

You blink at him, not even noticing how the distraction sends away the urge to cry. Swallowing thickly, you give a tentative nod.

"Fantastic. Great memory." His smile melts into a grin and though it sounds like he's teasing, you don't exactly feel like it you who's being made fun of. "I— I have no doubt you're an excellent fighter, especially considering you managed to land a hit on a warrior such as Azriel."

Cassian seems to hear his words only after he's said them and gives a minuscule frown. "Wait, don't tell him I said that. He'll never let me live it down."

When you don't react in amusement as he was aiming for, Cassian changes his tone again, more serious this time.

"Look, I might not be exactly sure what happened that meant you ended up here. I know it might not seem like a welcome change of pace but— well- and what I mean to say is— I can see your missteps."

The admittance of your failings makes humiliation swell up within you. You avert your eyes. Cassian, aware of his awful blunder, barrels on.

"But I can see you're getting your feet again." He adds, softer than before. "After whatever happened to you and your wings, I can tell you're already doing better than most Illyrians would. I also know that everything is easier with a little support."

Your gaze tugs back to Cassian's face as his sentence ends, the offer within it leaving you momentarily dazed. He wants... to help you?

You open your mouth to say just that—but instead, say, "They... didn't tell you?"

Something foreign yanks on your heartstrings. You can't say you had expected privacy, not when Rhysand was already generously providing you with both medical aid and a place to lay low and recover. You were in no position to ask for more.

Suddenly, you become hyper aware of your wings and their gaping, obvious scars to pair with the thin white lines of the lashes adorned across them. You rein them back self-consciously, keeping them tucked close against your back. There's relief in that simple motion alone.

"It is not their story to tell." Cassian nods, grave and serious. "And, just as important, sharing it is not a requirement to be allow yourself a little support."

You don't have to tell him, if you don't want to.

Before you, an Illyrian male, like so many that you've detested all your miserable life, and he doesn't know a thing about you. He doesn't get to know what happened unless you decide to tell him.

You taste his words, mulling them over in your mind as you try to figure out what he means. In the heart of it, you can't understand what he truly stands to gain from this offer of support.

"What... kind of support?" You question warily.

Unthinkingly, your grip tightens on the training staff once more—a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of baring your vulnerabilities. It had been well-trained out of you. Connections of any kind risked exposure... and well, the one time in your life you had given it a go, it had only been proven true.

"Whatever you wish." Cassian grins, as if pleased you had asked that exact question. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and rattles off his list easily, with a slight shrug of his armoured shoulders. "Friendship? Training? Someone to listen when you need it or to drink your sorrows with? I've had plentiful practice with all."

He sends you another wink, teasing and easy like everything else about him. It's disarming actually, just how different he is from what you had been expecting from only the rumours around Exordor. Lord of Bloodshed. He's so...casual.

After another beat of silence, Cassian clears his throat when it becomes clear you aren't exactly jumping onto any of his initial offers. The caginess you exude is palpable and something ragged in Cassian's chest tears wider at whatever his mind conjures up about what might be lurking your past.

True to his word, Rhys hadn't delved into your story or how you came to end up here at the House of Wind.

All Cassian knew for sure is that Azriel had talked of training with a bastard some months ago and now, you were here. A female warrior from Exordor.

Cassian thinks that Azriel likely would've mentioned it if the bastard he was working with was female—but he hadn't. There's much more to your story, he can tell, and it seems to ripple from the edges of your wary, dangerous form at just a glance. Almost a full picture for him to realise, to see clearly.

But... these things were earned.

If Cassian wanted to be your friend, to know your story, he would do it the honourable and hard way.

He would become someone that you could trust in this new, unfamiliar place and he knew it was possible because what Cassian knew lay within him was reflected in you. The one clear part of the picture.

A warrior who knows themselves best when they're fighting.

"Train with me. Please." Cassian tries once more, ready to relent if it was too much, too soon. "There is a lot we can teach each other, I'm sure."

That seems to catch you by surprise, your brows jumping a fraction up your face. You school the expression away quickly but not before Cassian catches it. He nods.

"What do you say?" Cassian grins again, holding out his hand, palm up. Nonthreatening as can be. "Friends? Allies? Reluctant rooftop sharers? I'll take any happily."

You eye his hand, that still cautious air in your gaze, but Cassian can see as something settles within you. Tentatively, you reach forward and put your hand in his, giving it an awkward, stilted shake.

"I'll take allies for now," You say, somewhat demurely. It's taking a mountain load of trust for you to do so, Cassian knows. He does not take that trust lightly.

Cassian grins. "Allies it is."

[NEXT PART: SHADOWS]

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

@thatsassyhufflepuff @rem-ie

#this chappie is one big kiss to cassian #i love him and i like to think we would be besties irl #apologies for no azriel in this chappie tho D:#i promise it won't go like this as she meets all of the inner circle #cassian is a Special one like im thinking maybe these guys are gonna be Besties for the Resties so he needs a specific introduction #and also they're so alike!!! they survive best when they're fighting n brawling!!!!! they're gonna like and respect each other so damn much #azriel #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel series #cassian #<- yeah he's there #acotar #acotar fanfiction #whom the shadows sing for #wtssf #whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)#hope u like it!! tell me what u think!#sloane writes

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slytherin-princess-x · 20 days ago

Text

The winner takes it all

Mattheo x y/n

Enemies to something else?

Angsty/ high tension

The animosity between Y/N and Mattheo Riddle was a palpable thing, a thick, crackling energy that hung in the air whenever they were in the same room. It was a dance of disdain they had been performing for years, a well-rehearsed routine of sneers, cutting remarks, and deliberate attempts to irritate each other. It was just... them. Enemies. Pure and simple.

So, when Professor Snape, with a particularly malevolent glint in his eyes, announced that they would be duelling in pairs and then declared, with theatrical flair, "Miss Y/N, you will be partnering with Mr. Riddle," a collective groan rippled through the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Y/N's jaw tightened. Fantastic. Just her luck. Across the room, Mattheo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. He knew this would be good. Oh, he knew.

“Positions, please,” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with a dark satisfaction that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the brewing storm.

They stalked toward the designated duelling area, the silence between them thick with unspoken threats. Y/N felt her pulse quicken, and not entirely with dread. There was a thrill, a dark excitement in facing Mattheo, a strange, twisted kind of respect for his abilities, however infuriating.

They bowed stiffly, a formality that felt absurd given their history.

"Ready, Miss Y/N?" Snape's voice cut through the tension.

“Always,” she snapped, her eyes fixed on Mattheo.

“Begin!”

The moment the word left Snape’s lips, the air crackled with magic. Mattheo was the first to strike, a jet of red light shooting towards Y/N with deadly accuracy. She dodged, the spell narrowly missing her head, singeing a strand of hair.

"Too slow, Y/N!" Mattheo taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

"Just warming up, Riddle," she retorted, retaliating with a Disarming Charm. He blocked it effortlessly, and the duel devolved into a furious exchange of spells.

Y/N was a skilled dueller, honed by years of dedicated practice and a natural aptitude for combat. She favoured speed and precision, a whirlwind of motion that made her a difficult target. Mattheo, however, was a force of raw power, his spells delivered with merciless intent. Each block, each parry, was a calculated move.

"Stupefy!" Mattheo roared, the spell whistling past her ear. She countered with a Leg-Locker Curse, aiming to incapacitate him. It hit its mark, and Mattheo stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance.

Y/N seized the opportunity. She didn't just want to disarm him; she wanted to humiliate him. She lunged forward, wand forgotten for a moment, and with a swift move, swiped his legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his wand skittering across the floor.

A collective gasp echoed through the classroom. Mattheo, on the floor? Unthinkable.

His eyes blazed with fury. "Dirty tactics, Y/N? I expect nothing less."

She smirked, knowing she’d struck a nerve. "All's fair in love and war, Riddle. And you and I, well, we’re definitely at war.”

Before he could react, she was on him, straddling his chest, her wand pointed directly at his throat. She had him. She’d won. This was where she would have disarmed him and ended it… but she hesitated.

He was lying beneath her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his gaze intense, predatory. He looked... different. Beneath the anger, there was something else flickering in his dark eyes, something that sent a strange shiver down her spine.

“Going to finish it, Y/N?” he rasped, his voice suddenly low and husky. “Or are you just enjoying the view?”

Her resolve wavered. He was deliberately trying to distract her, to throw her off her game. But the proximity, the sheer physical presence of him beneath her, was having an unexpected effect.

“Get off me,” he growled, and then, before she could react, he bucked upwards, throwing her off balance. She landed hard on the floor, her wand flying from her grip.

He was on his feet in an instant, his wand retrieved, his eyes glittering with triumph. The duel resumed with a renewed ferocity.

They traded blow after blow, the air thick with spells, the noise deafening. Y/N conjured a shield to deflect a particularly nasty curse, but the force of the impact sent her stumbling backwards. Mattheo pressed his advantage, his spells becoming more aggressive, more dangerous.

“Confringo!” he shouted, a Blasting Curse hurtling towards her.

She barely managed to dive out of the way, the spell exploding against the wall behind her, sending shards of stone flying. A piece grazed her cheek, drawing blood.

The taste of blood filled her mouth, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. It was no longer about strategy or skill; it was about survival. She summoned her inner reserves of strength, drawing on all her training, all her anger, all her frustration.

She cast a series of wordless spells, rapid and unpredictable, forcing Mattheo to defend himself desperately. He was breathing heavily now, his face flushed, a cut above his eye dripping blood down his temple.

They were both bleeding, both bruised, both exhausted but neither one wanting to back down. Y/N wiped the blood trickling into her eye. “Accio Mattheo’s wand!” she yelled, wandlessly summoning his wand into her hand.

He was quick however, wandless spells were not an area he was weak in and he had sent one of his own. “Expelliarmus!” directly towards Y/N’s wand that she had retrieved from the ground. The tip of his wand glowing blue. She used protego to defend herself and was getting frustrated that she hadn’t been able to disarm him. Y/N was good at wandless spells and that was her advantage.

He launched another spell at her, aiming for her legs. Y/N jumped out of the way “Flipendo!” she yelled, it hit Mattheo directly in the chest and he flew backwards.

The force of the spell stunned him but didn’t knock him out. He laid on the ground gasping for air.

Y/N stood over him, panting, her chest heaving. Blood dripped from the cut on her cheek, mingling with the sweat on her forehead.

She was a mess. But so was he. They both were. This was taking too long.

Suddenly, a wicked smile spread across her face. “All that blood looks good on you, Riddle,” she said, her voice husky with exertion. “It really brings out your eyes.”

And then, to further goad him, she wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, deliberately smearing it across her skin.

Mattheo pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes blazing. Y/N knew she’d pushed him too far.

“That’s it,” he snarled, his voice dangerously low. “You’ve done it now, Y/N.”

He launched himself at her, tackling her to the ground. The classroom seemed to fade away, the only reality the feel of his body against hers, the raw energy that crackled between them. This was more than just a duel; it was a battle of wills, a struggle for dominance, a twisted expression of the strange, undeniable connection that bound them together.

Snape watched the whole scene unfold. There was no doubt that he was relishing every minute of it. He made no attempt to stop them, content to let their animosity reach its fever pitch. He knew they would not severely injure each other, they were too similar for that. This rivalry was what brought balance to the classroom.

Before he could recover, Y/N was on him, straddling his chest, pinning his arms to the floor. She raised her wand, pointing it directly at his throat.

"Any last words, Riddle?" she hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Mattheo stared up at her, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and… something else. Something that made her stomach flip. He shifted, trying to dislodge her, but Y/N held firm.

Instead of answering, he smirked, a slow, infuriatingly arrogant smirk. "You're on top of me, Y/N. I’d say I’m winning."

Y/N hesitated, her concentration wavering. This close, she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the way his lips were slightly parted. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way her own heart was hammering in her chest.

The moment of distraction was all Mattheo needed. With a surge of strength, he bucked her off, rolling her onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, retrieving his wand.

The fight resumed, but now it was fueled by something more than just pure animosity. There was a raw, animalistic energy in the air, a sense of danger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. They exchanged blow after blow, their faces flushed, their bodies slick with sweat and blood.

Finally, Y/N landed a particularly nasty blow, a spell that caught Mattheo off guard, sending him stumbling backward. He crashed against the wall, sliding down to the floor. He was bruised, bloodied, and clearly winded.

Y/N stood over him, panting, her own body aching, her clothes torn. She wiped the blood from her lips, a strange feeling churning in her stomach. The blood tasted… almost sweet.

She looked at Mattheo, sprawled against the wall, his dark eyes fixed on her. He looked… different. Vulnerable. And strangely… beautiful.

"All that blood looks good on you, Riddle," she said, her voice breathy, barely a whisper. She deliberately smeared the blood from her lips across her cheek, wanting to provoke him, wanting to see what would happen. "It really brings out your eyes."

Mattheo’s lips curled into a half-smile, his eyes flashing. "You think so, Y/N?" he rasped, his voice low and husky. "Maybe we should make a habit of this."

Snape, who had been observing the duel with undisguised amusement, finally cleared his throat. "Enough!" he barked, his voice echoing through the classroom. "Miss Y/N, Mr.Mattheo, a draw, I presume? Take yourselves to the Hospital Wing!"

Y/N stared at Mattheo for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken words, with the residue of their brutal, almost intimate battle. Then, without a word, she turned and stalked out of the classroom, leaving Mattheo Riddle to pick himself up from the floor. She knew, with a terrifying certainty, that this was far from over. Their war had just taken a very interesting, and very dangerous, turn.

Taglist: @yootvi @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy @redeemingvillains @nodoubtily

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z4ync · 3 months ago

Note

We seriously need more GBA related fics so here it goes- I NEED a fluff fic where Hipswitch finally finds out Karmor likes him.

I have a small scenario suggestion, but feel free to indulge in creative ideas of your own!

-> The gang go out on a little event, kinda like a rodeo for bounty hunters and cowboys and such(ever watched Helluva Boss? Imagine that one EP of the harvest moon festival). After the games and events are settled, all of the participants engage in a salon dance thingie as well as free drinks, just a silly little after event for everyone to relax and enjoy some socializing.

Hipswitch decides to not participate since he didn't know anyone in the rodeo, and also bcs the owners of the small bar in there weren't particularly fond of Obscurans(even if there were some in the rodeo). But then Karmor/Partner comes along and asks Hipswitch to dance with him, which he's surprised.

He tries to talk Partner out of inviting him and tries to convince him to look for a more "organic" partner instead, but Karmor refuses. So they go to dance and from there you may decide how Hipswitch finally persuade his own feelings for Karmor :D

I did however really want to bring out the fact that Hipswitch is afraid to love, since he probably doesn't think he's worthy of such a thing. And seeing Karmor loving him just...y'know?🥺💞 <- I'm very normal about them(lie)

Sorry for the ramble! Again, feel free to do what you wish!! 🩷

- 🌟

Awe thanks for the request, 🌟. It's so cute :D absolutely twin I'm so normal about them (LIES)

Twistin' and Turnin'

I LOVE THIS REQUEST. Gods I hope Mr crazy man GBA sees this and makes this anon request an episode of sorts, I'd give him my first born

Fluff

QUICK NOTE BEFORE WE START! if you haven't watched BvZ (go do it now) Karmor/Partner is mute and for the most part, in my head, communicates in sign language and big facial expressions. (Also I headcanon him as autistic because I am so he is too)

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

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Big day. Or at least that's how Albus had been sarcastically saying all day. Apparently the boys had found out about some rodeo that was coming to town and as a joke both Albus— the bastard— had made the executive decision, that the other three didn't get a say in, that they were going for the shits and giggles.

Karmor tried his damn hardest to tell him that he'd much rather stay in one place, that he wanted to stay home and read, but he'd got the other two on their sides and it's a lot easier to ignore hands then it is to ignore a voice

▄︻デ══━一

"they got free drinks" Albus whistled as they walked around, the events were beginning to settle and Karmor kept dragging Hipswitch and Albus away from the games to prevent a dick measuring contest from starting.

"not a single one of us should be drinking" Karmor signed. He'd gotten better at signing quickly, mostly to combat Albus' quick mind. "And anyways Hipswitch can't drink"

"come on partner, I'm sure you wouldn't mind a drink or two" Hipswitch's southern accent made Karmor melt, it always did. It was far less harsh than Albus and Attila's voices, and more solid than Mahatma's.

"dancing maybe, drinking no, Albus is just going to get wasted and—" he looked at his hands, trying to remember the sign for "annoying". He ran through a few signs before just flipping off Albus in frustration, for a normally calm and sweet person Karmor was easily annoyed by inconveniences like forgetting.

▄︻デ══━一

Karmor stared longingly at the crowd of people dancing their hearts out, Kissing the people they love, singing their voices away. He'd never been good with his confidence, so he was struggling to ask the Obscuran at his side to dance.

He didn't have the words, literally and figuratively, and couldn't get Hipswitch to look at him. Maybe he was just—

"Partner, are you alright?" Hipswitch lightly poked Karmor's arm, scaring the living daylights out of him and causing him to fall out of the chair he was sitting in— knees up to his chest and the only thing touching the seat of the chair being his feet, obviously, so he was already unstable.

He got up quickly, nodding and sitting back down, before standing up again and forcing down all the nerves that bubbled up his throat and through his skin. "Dance with me." it was supposed to be a question, but it didn't seem like it was

"What?" The other man laughed "dance with ya? Partner, I'm not too sure I'm the greatest to dance with, you might want someone more... Organic, for that." He tried to de-sway the man from the idea, but Karmor is stubborn.

"dance with me" it was obvious he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Hipswitch sighed, his metal man's coming up to ruffle the mute man's hair "don't say I didn't warn ya" he said it like he had no choice in it— which was a lie, he could've said no, but Karmor would start sulking and wouldn't do anything else.

Hipswitch could've stayed there all day; Karmor's hand in his and the biggest smile on his face as he dragged him to the very edges of the dance floor.

But of course the second his foot hit the dance floor a partner song blasted through the pavilion, one of those slow ones reserved for couples and families. But Hipswitch agreed and he wanted nothing more than to make Karmor keep smiling.

"I'm gonna step on your toes" he warned, but Karmor only shook his head no, tapping the rhythm into Hipswitch's back.

Karmor's eyes were everywhere but Hipswitch, as it was so unbearably difficult to hold eyes contact with someone you liked.

Hipswitch always noticed that, and he'd ask about it but it would make Karmor let go of him and he'd already sunk into the warm metal man. Once he was attached it was hard to get him off, proven most by if you put the perpetually cold man in a warm bed, you wouldn't be able to get him out without luring him with Hipswitch and food.

A few girls had asked Karmor to dance, but just shook his head and signed "I'm not good company" or "I can't dance"

There was another thing, he always needed Hip— oh. OH.

The realization hit him like a run of bricks. Albus wasn't just playing with him, right? Whump— Karmor— Partner was always looking for Hipswitch, he was always near him, was what that what Albus was talking about

He took a moment to think, the feeling of the human's fingers tapping something into his back. It was a Rhythm of something no one knew, not even Karmor knew himself.

"Partner... I have a question" he looked down at the human. His eyes were on him expectantly. "Albus has been... Sayin' stuff, I want to know if they're true."

Karmor looked nervous, guilty, and his face was 6 times more red than before. He nodded, and had Hipswitch lead them out of the crowd. He longed to be back in it, no matter how loud crowds were, he enjoyed that.

"what has he been saying?" Damn Albus and his loud mouth.

"he's been saying..." It took Hipswitch a moment to form the words, mostly because he could ruin everything up to this and because of Karmor's unwavering stare. "Things about you likin' me"

Karmor wanted to run, to scream, to cry, to kill himself— but his voice was so shot that he can't really scream well and his hand was still in Hipswitch's so the other options weren't on the table

"and if they're true?"

"I wouldn't mind"

Karmor's eyes lit up, he thought that he was gonna have to take Hipswitch's gun and shoot himself, but he didn't! Hurray!

"it's true I like—" he stopped, he felt like a kid again, even if he didn't remember what that was like for him. Like felt too childish, to compare what he felt to just like was a crime, it was wrong

"I love you" Karmor's eyes squeezed shut, he couldn't open them. what if Hipswitch looked uncomfortable or disgusted.

Karmor was startled by arms wrapping him in an embrace. He started crying, he didn't know why he just did.

"I love you too"

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A/N. Sorry if this is all over the place, I'm not too good at writing and I actually haven't gotten to the most recent episode of BvZ yet because each episode is like an hour long and I end up passing out during them.

#good boy audios #gba bvz #gba bastards vs zombies #gba #gba karmor #gba albus #gba attila #gba mahatma #gba hipswitch #gba partner #good boy audios bvz #please make this request an episode #this anon is on to smt

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mandiemegatron · 10 months ago

Text

ᴸᵃʷ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵘᶜᵏ��ˡʸ, ˢᵒᵐᵉʰᵒʷ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶠⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵘˢᵉˢ ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ.

ᴿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ; ᴳ.

ᴹᴰᴺᴵ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵇᵉˡᵉᵈ ¹⁸+, ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ.

ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵃʸ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ, ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ, ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵃʸ...

It was always at night, Law noticed, when you'd find solace in the silence of the Tang as she swam through the darkened depths.

With the majority of the crew either sleeping or busy with keeping the Tang a well-oiled machine, you'd be here, and unbeknownst to you, so would he.

The sound was soft, like a gentle whisper on the breeze, that barely echoed in the small kitchen area as you tidied up and finished off the dinner dishes. Your voice chimed along with your baby den den radio, the same sang playing over and over though Law found himself captivated how you'd change harmonies every time it played.

He lost track of time of how long he'd stood off to the side, simply watching you in silence with his arms crossed comfortably over his chest as he leaned on the wall. His heart lurched and clenched as you hit a particularly high note, the sound crawling over his skin like a tingly and warm blanket. He'd never understand why you wouldn't sing in front of the crew, knowing they would lose their minds over having a crewmate that could actually carry a note.

"... some say you will love me one day, and I will wait, I will wait to get your loving one day..." The words tumbled from your lips almost absent-mindedly as you finished washing the dishes and moved onto drying and putting them away.

"Just say you will love me one day, and I will wait, I will wait to get your loving one day... and I will wait, I will wait..."

A small smile ticks up at the corner of Law's lips as he finally pulls himself away from watching your form sway slightly with the music, burning this image of you into his mind before taking that final step and quietly walking out from the kitchen area. The sound of his footsteps retreating pulls you from your mind, and you turn to see Law take the corner, hands in his pockets as he softly begins to whistle the same tune that played next to you.

Your cheeks burned bright red as you realize he must have been standing there, waiting to speak with you, only for you to be locked in your head. You shook your head with an embarrassed huff before going back to the dishes, turning the music up just enough to overtake the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

As Law comes up to his office, he bumps into a yawning Shachi, who gives his best friend and Captain a pointed look as he quietly asks, "Did you talk to her?"

Law presses his lips into a fine line, almost frowning as he shakes his head. Shachi claps a heavy hand on Law's shoulder and grins before the orca hatted man adds, "There's always tomorrow."

The sound of your voice is barely a whisper by his office but Law turns either way, an almost lost look on his face as he gives a sigh. "... perhaps."

Shachi gives Law's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he makes off for his shared room with Penguin. Law barely registers his friend and crewman walking away, too absorbed by his thoughts until the sound of Shachi's door closing pulls him out of it.

Pulling himself into his office, he keeps the door cracked just enough that he can hear the murmur of your voice dancing off the metal walls.

"... There's... always tomorrow..." He repeats to himself as he sits at his desk, sighing heavily as he stares down at his unfinished paperwork.

"... just say you will love me one day, and I will wait..."

Another near nonexistent smile tugs at his lips and he picks up his pen with a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly again as he finally settles in.

Just wait for me... he thinks to himself, sparing a glance at his office door. Just a little longer...

#mandies mumbles ; fanfics #law x reader #Trafalgar Law #one piece #ok to rb #op law #trafalgar d law #this came to me in a vision #not beta read - we die like men 💪#singer reader my beloved #this isnt self indulgent at ALL dont @ me like this >.>

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pablitogavii · 9 months ago

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Cumple❤️

“Feliz cumple cuñadoo!!” Two little girls jumped in Pablo’s lap hugging him tightly and you giggled taking the photo they asked for.

“Ai cariño..look at the cake!” You show him his own pictures on the cake and Pablo smiled at you nodding his head trying a little bit of the frosting.

“Not before pictures chaval!” His mom said and all the women agreed while the med laughed at our silliness.

“Alright, let’s sing the song papi” Aurora said and everyone started singing to very red faced Pablo who didn’t particularly like being a center of attention.

After everyone’s applause, he was the first to break the silence “can I eat my cake now!?” He said as everyone laughed.

“Feliz cumple querido mio..Siempre mamás bebé” Belen kissed his cheeks smiling at Pablo who hugged her back.

“Mamá no estoy un bebé ahora! Tengo 20 años! Porfa” he said making everyone chuckle knowing he was always a mamas boy.

“Feliz hijo! Wishing you fast recovery and happy season” his dad said patting his head and kissing his forehead. It’s all Pablo wanted too..to return back home.

“Felicitaciones hermanito mío! Here is my gift..take your girl somewhere nice and enjoy the rest of summer” she said giving him two plane tickets she got for Greece.

“Ai hermana, you didn’t have to” he said and she shook her head pulling you close saying how happy she is her little brother found an angel.

“Feliz cumple Pablo!!” Everyone was heard as I slowly made my way to him and he smiled opening his arms for a hug.

“Now it’s my turn cariño..Feli cumple mi amor. I wish you the healthiest and happiest season and so much love..here is my present” you said into the huh as he kissed your forehead and played with your hair staring with you with big eyes.

“Te amo mi vida..y eso?” He said before slowly opening the box and seeing a bracelet with both of your initials.

“We can be together even when you travel..mine shines when you touch yours. So we know we are thinking of each other” you explain showing his and he smiled big pitting it on immediately.

“Que preciosos!” Belen was crying now and both of you hugged her.

“Te amo bastante..” he whispered leaning to kiss your lips while everyone whistled making you both shy. You hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“Gracias preciosa mía..tu eres mi regalo más precioso del mundo” he said and you smile cuddling into him before continuing to celebrate with his family.

That night when you were already in bed you looked at the precious picture of Pablo with the two girls smiling to yourself.

He was fresh out of shower looking at you while wearing his pajamas.

“Porque reíste tanto mi vida?” He said laying down and showing him the photo that made him smile.

“You look so good with them..and it made me think wild thoughts” you said growing shy.

“Wild thought preciosa?” He slid beside me pulling me on top of him as I giggled.

“Mhmm it made me want to give you a baby..so bad!” You admit making him smirk and kiss you passionately.

“Hmm I know…and I want that baby so bad right now but we’re young cariño” he said massaging your hips.

“So ya se..” you agree pointing and he kisses it

“One day..preciosa” he said and you smile into the kiss

“Me prometes?” You say and he nods kissing you more

“Te pomelo mi vida” he added before you fell asleep on top of his chest freaking about that future.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barcelona #fc barca #fc barça #gavi #gavigif

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year ago

Note

What’s the TFP kids as sparklings unique signature calls?

Dang its been a hot minutes since I did TFP kids as sparklings. For the sake of understanding, I will stick to using their humans names for now. To answer your question, here are their calls.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rafael took the longest to create a unique signature call. Being a minicon, his ability to vocalize was not as strong right off the bat. As such, for a rather long time he stuck to the base call that all sparklings have. It concerned Optimus quite a bit when Rafael simply didn't seem to have any intention of developing a call at all. However, as cycles passed and Optimus and the team listened closer, they determined he did have a unique call, it was just very difficult to pick out on its own.

Rafael's call was a short and high pitched whistle that bordered on a chirp. It could even sound like a shriek if he went high enough in pitch. It scared the ever living daylights out of Smokescreen when on a long night, when he went to go wander around and hopefully ease himself back into recharge, a terrifying cry echoed in the base. He may or may not have screamed and tripped over the nearest object, but the team don't speak of it often. They've all been startled by Rafael's short and sweet banshee like shrieks on occassion.

Miko, being a flier, developed a call almost as soon as she settled into her Cybertronian frame permanently. Most sparklings tend to create a call that is entirely unique, but fliers have a particular method to their creation process. They pick pieces of their parents calls and then integrate those pieces into a new call. No flier call is every really unique, instead is carries history and lineage. Particularly skilled fliers who are familiar with various houses can pick up a family line just by hearing a bot's signature cry.

Generally Cybertronians stop using their calls after they get out on their own. They only begin using it again when they have a sparkling of their own since it allows the sparkling to track them. With this in mind, Miko took Optimus's gentle melody of a call and combined it with Starscream's shotgun like shriek in order to create a sound which Agent Fowler has described as: "Incoming missiles and Gatling guns". Many a time those who are not used to Miko have flung themselves behind cover when her slowly increasing call echoes around the area.

Compared to his siblings, Jack came up with the tamest call. Against what one might think, warframes tend to develop the calmest and most composed calls. Smaller frame types need to be loud and in charge with their calls in order to scare off predators and get the attention of others. But warframes? They don't need to bother with anything like that. Instead they need to try to show that they are not as wild as one might expect. It is the Cybertronian equivalent to the puppy dog eyes small creatures on Earth perform to get attention and sympathy.

Much like his Sire, Jack created a more sing-songy call. It was a simple two note tune going from high to low in frequencies that only a Cybertronian can pick up. To humans, he is totally silent. But to a Cybertronian, he is singing a soft high low tune intended to catch the attention of the person he is trying to interact with and nothing else. He doesn't need to scare them. He just needs momentary attention. If he really wanted something, screaming is a far more effective option.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #alternate universe #tfp kids as sparklings #jack darby #miko nakadai #rafael esquivel #smokescreen #cybertronian culture #cybertronian biology

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seaspringangel · 10 months ago

Text

sparrow in the storm — ais

summary: ais becomes a sanctuary for not only one, but two little sparrows.

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: gn!reader ✦ established relationship ✦ fluff ✦ mild mild suggestive themes ✦ reader wearing ais’s yukata cuz its their god given right

notes: a while ago, @hollana sent me cute ask one + ask two and @danger-bird made adorable fanart for it. they really made my entire month! so this is dedicated to them :) this is also a birthday gift for @danger-bird, as today is their birthday today. i hope they have a wonderful celebration!

The bright melody of birdsong carried you out of the haze of your dreams.

So soft and sweet it was, it wrapped around you like a silken blanket, a touch warmer than the drowsy heat emanating from the fabric of Ais’s yukata that covered your entire body at the moment.

The birdsong was serenading in your left ear, so you languidly turned in that direction, your nose immediately brushing against the thigh of the Monster sitting upright beside you, cross-legged. You peeled your eyes open, and your world delicately smudged red from the eerie glow radiating from the waters of the Seaspring.

Between the cradle of his red horns, an actual sparrow was nesting in the darkness of Ais’s hair.

You stare at the bird for a few seconds, watching the crystalline rain droplets gather like gem clusters on Ais's head. “So you’re finally replacing me, it seems.”

Eyes closed, Ais smirked. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

You roll your eyes so hard that it's a miracle they didn’t become lodged in your skull.

You sat up and yawned, idly fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around your arms. “When did you even get a real sparrow, anyway?”

“She flew in with the storm,” was Ais’s soft reply, and you listen to the din of rain thundering the rooftop of the Seaspring like a barrage of fists striking down from the heavens, the cloudy light seeping in from the outside painting his bare chest in translucent silver splashes. “She was weak. Couldn’t leave her out in the cold.”

You smiled a bit as the bird, still singing its merry little song, fluttered down from his hair to nuzzle against his face. She truly adored him, no different than any other creature that falls in love with Ais when they cross his path. “So you let her nest in your hair?”

“Nothing is stopping you from making a nest yourself, sparrow.”

You roll your eyes yet again. Ais is the only one alive who can make you feel heavenly tenderness and agitation that burns hotter than any hellfire. “You do realize I’m not a real bird, right?”

Ais opened his eyes and turned his head to fully regard you then. Your heart skipped a beat once, twice, and a third time as he looked you up and down slowly as if caressing you with the sharpness of his eyes. You pulled his yukata tighter around your body, suddenly becoming shy. It was almost hard to breathe when his eyes went warm like that and became lovelier than crimson jewels glittering in the light of golden sunshine.

Ais hummed thoughtfully. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You blink owlishly at him. Then, incensed, you promptly smacked his shoulder, hot irritation and a sickening sense of warmth going to war inside you. “You are so incredibly annoying.”

The bastard began to chuckle, and his new songbird had the gall to chirp alongside him as if she were laughing at your embarrassment too. How dare that cute, feathery homewrecker?

…Okay, maybe you were a little jealous, but you would quite literally swallow a thousand teacup shards than ever admit to that, so you opened your mouth to say something particularly acerbic and snarky when suddenly Ais pursed his lips and whistled a colorful melody, cupping his hands together.

You and the bird both reacted as if Ais plucked the string of some latent instinct in your bodies. The bird fluttered down to rest in his large waiting palms, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in by his gravitational pull and the need to be near him and soak up the rest of his misty heat like a flower drinking the last dredges of summer rain.

You press into his side and watch Ais’s calloused thumbs gently smooth through the dandelion fluff of the bird’s feathers, the little thing happily thrilling all the while, before looking up at his face and feeling your heart melt instantly.

There was a certain radiance to Ais when he cared for something or someone. It was like trailing fingers along the surface of iridescent water, yearning to crack below the glowing surface to discover the beauty underneath. You know what you’ll find in those waters will make you feel whole again.

There was a softness to his gaze, a look you knew he reserved for you and you alone, especially when he thought you weren’t looking, embers sparking from the depths of his eyes, keeping you warm when you couldn’t do it yourself. You wanted him to look at you like that always, and you wanted his hands, the same hands that cradled the singing sparrow with a practiced gentleness, the same hands that held you with the same reverence, to always hold yours until the whole world rotten away.

“She has your eyes,” Ais murmured, resting his cheek on top of your head. You softly snorted but did not offer a rebuttal this time. You can let him have his delusions just this once. “You think she’ll let us keep her?”

You nod, and after he lets the bird fly back to her rightful place upon his head, you let him pull you into his lap. “I don’t see why not. It’s safer here than out there, even if it’s the scariest place I've ever slept in.”

Ais chuckled against the crown of your head, a rich sound that sent decadent shivers up your spine. “Y’know, I never had two singing sparrows live with me before. This is going to be nice.”

You snort softly against his chest. He was pushing it with this ‘who is the real sparrow’ contest. “Uh, what kind of song do I sing? I don’t consider yelling at you all the time to be particularly soothing.”

Ais hummed. “You sing a different kind of song, not the kind made for polite company but for my ears alone. I like how needy you sound when I -“

This was a learning moment to stop taking his bait.

You jerk your head back far enough to make contact with his sternum, and he lets out a short huff of startled breath. You pull his yukata over your face, desperately trying to hide the savage scarlet burning of your cheeks. “I hate you. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me up ever again. Have fun spending time with your new lover.”

Even when struggling to catch his breath, Ais still dared to chuckle at your red-hot embarrassment. You would’ve enjoyed the sound of his laughter if you didn’t want to strangle him to death.

Soon, the sweet melody of birdsong, the torrential storm outside, and Ais’s heartbeat—a firm and steady drumbeat against your ear—lulled you into a soft, safe dream where everything you desired was within reach.

#✐ — writing #ais x reader #touchstarved game #ais touchstarved #touchstarved ais #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved game x reader #touchstarved ais x reader

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