#so i do not have any hopes for this but i think i might enjoy making it just for myself at least

[fireinmoonshot]

strawberry danishes | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin Torres has a crush on the cute girl that comes to the coffee shop he frequents. Little does he know, you've been crushing on him too. He's never regretted eating a strawberry danish more than the day you finally come up to him and start a conversation. Warnings: TW for food/coffee etc. Word Count: 2.7k A/N: I saw Captain America: Brave New World last Friday and honestly I spent the entire time staring at Joaquin. I've loved him since TFATWS but I loved seeing more of him in this movie and I immediately wanted to write for him after but I was away for the weekend without my laptop, so literally as soon as I was home I knew I needed to start working on something for him. This was inspired by the song Coffee Cake by Benson Boone. I really hope you enjoy and please let me know if you guys want me to write more for Joaquin!

Joaquin Torres knew your coffee order before he even knew your name.

It wasn’t in a creepy way – he wasn’t stalking you or anything. The two of you just happened to frequent the same coffee shop. Whenever Joaquin was home, he had a routine of stopping by a local cafe by the park near his apartment for a coffee and a pastry after his morning run. The small cafe obviously had a place in your morning routine too.

The first time he saw you he couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you were, and it wasn’t just the fact that the sun was shining through the window beside you, coating you in the warm, golden light. He was a fairly confident person but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to approach you that day and talk to you.

He told himself that he’d do it the next time he saw you, but the next time you were in and out of the cafe so quickly he barely even saw you from his spot across the room, his mouth full of a bite of blueberry danish. 

Then, work called him away and he was gone for weeks. Any time he made himself a coffee over the next few weeks, he thought of you. He was fully aware that it was probably incredibly creepy of him to be doing so – he didn’t know the first thing about you, and you had no idea who he was – but he had a crush. He had to admit that to himself.

When he was back home, he looked forward to his morning coffee more than anything simply because of the chance that he might see you. Luck happened to be in his favour, too, as when he walked in and joined the line to order, you had lined up behind him. He had no idea, of course, until he’d ordered and stepped off to the side. The poor boy had almost choked on air itself when he turned to see you ordering after him. 

“Just an iced chocolate to-go, please,” you said.

It was the first time Joaquin had heard your voice and he was pretty certain that it was the actual sound of angels coming down from the heavens. He had to force himself to look away from you so he didn’t get caught staring. He was so stuck in his own head, focused on your beauty, that he didn’t even hear the barista calling his name and order out for collection. 

He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and looked down to see you looking up at him. 

“Hey,” Joaquin managed, his voice a little breathless. Oh, this was so embarrassing. The first thing he can think to say to you when you initiate a conversation with him and it’s hey? 

You pointed towards the counter. “I think that’s your order. The barista keeps looking at you when he’s calling out Joaquin.” 

Joaquin cleared his throat. “Oh, right. Thanks.” He chuckled awkwardly and moved to grab his coffee, planning to turn around afterwards and introduce himself properly. By the way, the name is Torres. Joaquin Torres. And what would your name be? Something beautiful, I’m sure. 

It was probably for the best that by the time he turned around – oblivious to the death stare the barista was giving him, irritated at having to shout his name out multiple times  – you had moved across the room to take a seat at a table by the window. Now it would just look weird if he was to walk all the way over to you and introduce himself. You’d excused yourself from the conversation. 

Disappointed, Joaquin took a sip of his coffee and forced himself out of the cafe, berating himself in his thoughts the whole way. It was only when he’d gotten back to his apartment that he realised he’d left behind the pastry that he’d ordered alongside his coffee. 

More time passed and Joaquin had been working so often he hadn’t had any time to get back to the cafe. He started to wonder if possibly this was all just nothing more than a silly crush on a passer-by. That maybe, you weren’t destined to say anything more than the words that you’d shared at the cafe that day a month ago. 

Joaquin wasn’t going to stop going by his favourite cafe though. If you spoke to him, of course he’d speak back to you. But he wasn’t going to go out of his way to talk to someone that clearly wasn’t as interested in him as he was in you, judging on your past interaction. 

He settled down at a table by the window, placing the plate containing his strawberry danish down in front of him. It wasn’t long before the staff brought over the coffee he’d ordered and he could dig into his danish without being interrupted. He’d missed these mornings while he’d been working. There wasn’t much else that filled him quite like the peace he had when he was in the cafe. 

He wasn’t watching the door when you walked into the cafe and went to order. He was too preoccupied with his danish, taking a rather large bite of it and almost moaning at the taste of it. There was nothing as good as a danish from this place, he was sure of it.

He was still too busy eating the danish to notice you walking over to his table, a plate of your own in your hands. It was only when he noticed someone stood beside the table that he looked up, swallowing the mouthful of danish – and luckily not choking on it as his eyes settled on you. He’d assumed it might have been another member of staff, maybe they’d given him the wrong coffee, but he had not expected you.

“You’re in my seat,” you said simply, looking down at the man and trying so hardly not to smile at the sight of him, sitting there looking up at you with wide eyes and sugar all around his mouth and even on the tip of his nose. 

Joaquin was lost for words and it took him a moment to find something to say. “You can sit here! I didn’t realise this was your seat. Do you want me to move? Hang on, let me just get this sugar off my hands and I’ll–”

“Hey, it’s fine. Really,” you smiled, pulling the chair out on the opposite side of the table and moving to sit down “You can stay here. Actually, I’ve kind of been waiting to have an excuse to talk to you, so thanks for sitting in my seat. Joaquin, right?”

He stared at you for a moment. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t even know your name, so how was it possible that you knew his? Unless you’d asked the barista about him… wait… you’d been waiting for an excuse to talk to him? Was his brain short circuiting? Was he dreaming? Surely he was dreaming. Under the table, he pinched the skin of his arm between his fingers… nope… not dreaming…

“Last time I saw you in here, you were spacing out and the barista was calling your name. I had to tell you that your order was being called,” you said, a little sheepishly. “I guess you don’t remember that.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all… he was cute, sure, but if he didn’t remember that, he clearly wasn’t as interested in you as you were in him.

Recognition sparked in Joaquin’s mind. “Oh, I do remember that! I wasn’t spacing out, I was just distracted by y– by something.” Admitting he was distracted by you was probably not the best way to start your first proper conversation. “But that makes sense now. I don’t know your name, though. I guess you listen more carefully when they call your order out.”

“I try my best,” you admitted, before introducing yourself to him properly. It was hard not to admit the fact that Joaquin was probably the cutest guy you’d ever seen, especially with the sugar on his face. “You, uh… you have some sugar on your face by the way. Here and here.” You motioned to the spots on your own face so he could tell where to wipe.

His eyes widened again as he grabbed for the napkin and started to wipe the sugar off.

“So, what were you distracted by that day?” You attempted to change the subject.

“Uhhhh…” Joaquin thought for a moment. “You know what? I actually can’t remember. It’s been a while, lots has happened between then and now, I guess.” He laughed a little. “Anyway, let’s not skip over what you said when you sat down – you’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to me? I’d like to know more about that, actually.”

He watched, intrigued and entirely enthralled by you, as you became slightly shy at his words. Like the ones you’d said had been spoken on accident and that you’d been hoping he wasn’t going to bring them up again. But if there was one thing you’d learn about Joaquin, it was that he was always going to bring up the things you thought you could forget.

“Okay, well… I’ve noticed you in the cafe a few times over the last few months and I figured we must both come here pretty often in the mornings for me to see you so often. And… well…” You trailed off, your eyes falling to the plate in front of you.

Joaquin leant forward. “You can’t just leave me on a cliffhanger.”

“I thought you were cute!” You admitted, probably a little louder than you should’ve. “I thought you were cute and I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you ever since I first saw you. But you haven’t been in here for a while and the last time I saw you, I chickened out of having an actual conversation with you and ran away.”

It took every part of your strength not to get up and leave the table straight away out of sheer embarrassment. Admitting to a total stranger that you thought they were cute was not the kind of thing that you usually did. But something kept drawing you to Joaquin and today you’d just been given the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You couldn’t meet his eyes for a while, meaning you missed the look of shock on his face and the way his face gradually broke out into a smile of disbelief. You thought he was cute? He thought you were cute! Luck had somehow been on his side today.

“You think I’m cute?” Joaquin replied, a smirk on his lips and the confidence he’d been missing over the last few months whenever he was around you returning immediately. 

Your eyes flickered up to his, surprised to see that he actually seemed to be happy about it. “Well, yeah…” 

Joaquin couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “I swear I’m not just saying this, but I’ve been trying to get the confidence to talk to you, too. I’m a confident guy but for some reason, every time I’ve seen you in here I suddenly become the least confident man on earth.” 

You didn’t doubt his words. They seemed completely truthful and you knew right away that Joaquin was not the kind of guy to lie to you. He was inherently honest. 

“I haven’t been in here for a while cause of work,” Joaquin continued. “I’m in the Air Force. Means I’m not home too often, so I make the most of it when I am.” He decided to leave out the part about him practically being an Avenger. That was something he could ease you into. He had a feeling that dropping the whole Oh yeah, by the way I’m also the new Falcon would scare you off more than intrigue you.

“Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you lately,” you nodded. “So, you just come here for breakfast when you’re in town?”

He nodded. “I have a bit of a routine of a coffee and a danish after my morning run. I’m pretty glad that I do now, especially since you came to talk to me today. Even if I had sugar all over my face and embarrassed the hell outta myself when you did.” 

Joaquin was pretty sure he was never going to live that down. It was certainly something that Sam Wilson was never going to hear about or he would tease him about it for the rest of his life, he was sure of that. 

You laughed. “Okay, but the sugar on your face was actually kind of cute, and if I knew you better I would have just wiped it off for you instead of embarrassing you by telling you so you had to do it yourself.”

“Why don’t we get to know each other better then?” Joaquin saw his chance and took it. “Let me take you out on a date, somewhere that isn’t this coffee shop and somewhere I won’t eat something that covers my face in sugar. What do you say?”

He was pretty confident that you were going to say yes, especially when he saw your lips curl into a smile. He could almost see the cogs turning in your mind as you tried to figure out what to say to answer him. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise I’m not some kind of creep – and yes, I’m well aware that is exactly what someone who is a creep would say – but I’m really not,” he laughed. “All I am is a guy who’s been crushing on the cute girl who keeps coming into my coffee shop and trying to convince myself to talk to her.”

“Okay, okay – fine, I’ll go on a proper date with you,” you agreed, unable to keep it in any longer. Watching him try and convince you was so incredibly endearing but you couldn’t keep him waiting when he was clearly so eager to take you out.

Joaquin grinned. “So… can I pick you up at 7, then?”

“Tonight?” 

“You got other plans?”

You shook your head. “No, I just didn’t expect you to be so quick with it.”

“Well, with my job, I could be gone tomorrow and I feel like we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you? I mean… we’ve both liked each other for months without knowing a single thing about each other apart from our coffee orders. I’d like to change that,” he admitted.

“All right,” you agreed with a nod. “You’ll pick me up at 7. But right now, I am going to eat this pastry that’s been sitting here in front of me the whole time and I’ll let you finish your danish cause after all, you did steal my seat and I did come here to eat some breakfast.”

Joaquin chuckled and picked up his danish again. “You promise to tell me if I get sugar all over my face again?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “Like I said, you looked pretty cute with sugar all over your face.”

He shook his head and took a bite of his danish. He’d thought he wasn’t going to live this down if Sam ever found out about it, but he hadn’t counted on you being one to keep reminding him about it. But… you found it cute, so Joaquin was pretty sure he could live with that… hearing you calling him cute. 

You smiled to yourself as you watched him bite into the danish and end up with sugar on his face again. It wasn’t everywhere like it had been before but it was on the corner of his mouth. 

He looked over at you. “I have sugar on my face again, don’t I?”

“You trying to get me to tell you that I think you’re cute again, Joaquin?” 

“Can you blame a guy for liking the fact that a pretty girl thinks he’s cute?”

Smiling, you reached over and swiped your finger over the corner of his mouth, removing the sugar from it. You almost laughed at the way Joaquin froze and the look of shock on his face. He was pretty sure he’d just died and gone to heaven, actually. 

“You just had a little bit of sugar there,” you hummed, picking your own danish up.

Joaquin let out a long, shaky breath. Who knew a strawberry danish could be so dangerous?

[kurokawaia]

Hi, I read your story, where the kids are rude to mom (the kids of Bakugou, Dabi and Hawks) how do the kids react if their mom decides to ignore them as punishment?

AFTERMATH OF YELLING AT YOUR MAMA!

⋆·˚ ༘ * FEATURING :: Bakugou Katsuki, Hawks, Dabi - (separately)

⋆·˚ ༘ * WARNINGS :: none really, bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, second pov, reader is a mother, kids have a little bit of attitude, kids are around 5-8 years of age, slight spoilers for dabi! I don't condone ignoring your children, please don't, + more? MINI DRABBLES.

DABI

Well, you and Dabi's son is a carbon copy of his father, so he acts the same when being given the silent treatment only less touchy (obviously da faq) The first stage is acting like he doesn't care, he will cross his arms letting out a grumpy huff while rolling his eyes, "Whatever, I don't need to talk to you anyways," is what your son will say, but, after a few hours he starts to feel a little weird. His mum isn't nagging, isn't scolding, isn't even looking at him and it feels so wrong because you always give him attention whether he wants it or not.

The second stage will be when he starts to get annoyed at not receiving any attention, he will trail behind you, definitely gets extra moody (shocker where he got that from) he will go around kicking random toys, furniture and overexaggerated sighs. This happens all until he hugs the back of your legs and mumbles, "I'm sorry I was mean, Mum. Can you talk to me again?" looking as far as you can behind you all you could do was regret ignoring him because of how dilated his cyan eyes were, having his lips in a sad pout and a sheen of tears glazed over his eyes.

HAWKS

Hawks’ kid can’t handle the silent treatment, because she is as needy as her father when it comes to attention. The moment she realizes you’re ignoring them, their brain starts spiraling because you usually just forgive her but Hawks suggested a different strategy. There is no phase one with her, she immediately tries to fix it with begs of your name and tugging at your shirt and a big pout on her face (something she learnt from Keigo). Due to you being used to Keigo's antics, you don't fold, then she goes running to her daddy, her head meeting at his lap as she sulks.

"Mummy is going to hate me forever," she mumbles in an overdramatic tone. The only thinks Keigo could do was laugh because he finds his daughter truly fascinating sometimes. "Sure she will, sweetheart."

BAKUGOU

At first, Bakugou’s kid scoffs, you gonna ignore him? Yeah, he's ignoring you too. He will let out the most dramatic huff and cross his arms and poke his tongue out at you and in the most unconvincing voice he will say, "Like I care!" Ti which, you have to force down a laugh that was about to slip out before Katsuki nudged your arm, making sure you don't break character. Although, just like his father, he will make every attempt to make you jealous and it's honestly the pettiest and funniest thing you will ever experience. Your son will say how much he needs his daddy's help right in front of you and Katsuki has to force down his laugh as well because you both know what he's doing.

Then a few hours pass and then he starts to finally let it sink in and then he becomes frustrated and here comes when he stomps up to you while your doing your skincare with Katsuki. "Yell at me, Mum!" he would pout and you were confused at what he was getting at before you let out a soft laugh, bending down to wrap your arms around your sweet boy and he does the same without any embarrassment.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note: hope you enjoyed, this hasn't been proof read so there might be a few grammar and spelling mistakes ^^

let me know if you (inbox or comments) want to be apart of the mha taglist! specify the character and ill tag you in any works they are present in!

[oofmybad]

“It feels good. Just new”

Synopsis: billie straps you for the first time. That’s legit everything. Nothing groundbreaking.

Warnings: dom!billie x sub!reader, strap, spanking, squirting, mildly rough sex, NOT proofread, I think that’s it.

Words: idk

A/n: this is my first time writing smut. And I wrote it in ~maybe~ 5 minutes max lol. So it’s probably shit. Couldn’t quite get myself to proofread it back. But just wanna post it to get past the shyness pfft. Anyway, enjoy (I hope).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because we don’t have to.”

“Yeah, baby. Of course I do. I- i really want you.”

“Ok pretty girl. Tell me if you want me to stop, or anything. You’re in control, always.” Billie says as she lines the strap up to your core.

“Um… Will it… hurt?” You ask, slightly embarrassed of your lack of experience.

“It shouldn’t do if you’re turned on enough. You feel pretty wet to me. But it might feel like a bit of a stretch at first.” Billie says as she strokes your baby hairs away from your forehead.

You take a big breath and hold the air in, anticipating the sensation. “Ok” you say, now determined.

“Uh uh, you gotta breathe, baby” Billie takes one of your hands and places it on her own chest so that you can copy her breathing, “here, follow me”.

You are now breathing at a steady pace when Billie reaches for your hand that’s placed on her chest, so that she can clasp her fingers in between yours, holding your hand that’s now laying next to your head.

“I’m just gonna put the tip in, ok?” Billie says keeping firm and controlled eye contact with you.

Just like that, her unwavering confidence melts any lingering worry away. “Please” you say, the word slipping past your lips like a begging whimper.

“Mm!” You gasp a moment later once Billie has pushed the first inch or so inside of you.

“You ok? Need me to stop, angel?” Billie’s eyes shoot up from your bodies connecting to search your eyes for any discomfort.

“No, no! It feels good. Just new, that’s all” you reply.

“Ok I’m gonna go a little deeper now” Billie warns you before pushing further into your pussy, inch by inch - she periodically waits for you to get used to the new stretch.

“Mmmh…fuck-“ you let out a moan as the full length of the strap pushes against your walls. You let go of Billie’s hand in order to wrap your hands around her back, tightly clasping onto her shoulders with your nails, and pulling her body flush with yours.

“Ugh, god” Billie moans, almost like a reply to your altered, deeper, position. “I can feel you clenching. You feel so good”

“Please give me more, Billie” you plead.

“What do you want, angel?” Billie whispers into your neck, her teeth nibbling at the tender skin of your collarbones.

“I want you to fuck me” you pause to think “…hard”.

Billie pulls her head back to search for any doubt in your eyes, but she finds nothing but desperate longing. Without another word, Billie pulls the strap out of you, quickly ramming it back inside of you repeatedly - your g spot getting hit every time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you practically wail out.

“Can you turn around for me, baby?” Billie asks as she positions herself to be towering over you. Pulling the strap out at the same time.

You sigh, almost whimper, at the loss of sensation. But you quickly obey, turning around so that the right side of your face is being pressed against the mattress and your ass is in the air.

Billie lines the strap up with your entrance once again, teasing your clit at the same time, and asks “you ok?”

“Omg yes! Please just-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before Billie thrusts back into you, hitting places you didn’t know existed inside of you, as she smacks ur ass with each thrust - enjoying the recoil.

Your hands neurotically search for something to hold onto. Landing on the pillow above your head that’s leant on the headboard. “God! Oh, fuck” you moan out, panting with every thrust.

“You take me so well, angel” Billie says as she uses her tattooed hand to push up your spine towards your neck, creating an even deeper arch. Billie moans at the glorious sight in front of her.

This new angle sends you into another dimension. You are literally dizzy and seeing stars. “I have to cum! Please!”

“Already, baby? Hold it for me. Be good” Billie huffs as she continues to smash her hips into your ass.

“I can’t”

“Yes you can” Billie retorts as she reaches round to rub your clit again.

“Ah, pleaseeee baby!” You whine.

“I said not yet” Billie snaps sternly. You would be scared of her if you weren’t so turned on. She smacks your ass one, two, three more times to show you how much she means it.

But this only causes you to unravel completely. Moan after moan explodes from your mouth - you not even having a chance to warn Billie that you’re cumming.

From behind you, and through your moans, you can faintly hear Billie’s grunts in time with her hips stuttering against yours. She’s doing her very best to keep fucking you through your simultaneous orgasms.

Hearing her struggle to not whimper is the final straw for you. A rubber band inside your core snaps as you try to warn Billie. “Fuck! I’m gonna pee! Wait!”

Billie, being more experienced than you, knows that you’re gonna squirt so she musters up all the strength she has left. She roughly grips your ass cheeks and uses them as handles to pull herself further into you.

“Uhhhnn. Fuckuhhh” your expletive moans, skin slapping, and the sound of your juices crashing onto Billie’s thighs and the mattress are all that can be heard in your bedroom.

[moonlight-alexia]

Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy. 

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them. 

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone. 

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy. 

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on. 

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’ 

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’ 

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’ 

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

[peachyparkerr]

spring into summer | art donaldson x female! reader

or loving art even if it hurts <3

based off the song by lizzy mcalpine!

tags: yearning, fluff, angst, no use of y/n, stanford!art to atlanta!art, love "triangle", kissing and stuff, maybe not 100% true to the lyrics might even be out of order, hopefully this is not too long and not too many mistakes lol i dont want to proofread, i made my own challengers timeline because i can, challengers will always be on the mind <3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n i hope you enjoy <3 plz be kind to me

Spring into summer, and the winter's gone I try to hold on to it, but the current's too strong Somebody finds me in the state I am Love you like I mean it when I know I can't

it’s a rainy day in late february at stanford. it’s cold, the fog’s coming in thick over the trees, and it’s hard not slip on the ground. all outdoor sports practices have been canceled or moved inside, and it’s probably the worst day to not have an umbrella or a rain jacket. art’s team practice had been canceled but he still wanted to work on his serve so he decided to practice at the indoor courts, he needed to blow off steam after being around patrick and tashi so much these days. their relationship is really weighing art down these days, so getting in the practice instead of taking a break seemed like an obvious time killer, he just hadn’t realized it was pouring this much. there was no way he was going to make it all the way to his dorm without being majorly drenched, so he decides to tackle the rain for the shorter walk between the indoor courts and the library and wait it out there. he’s definitely drenched when he enters the building, and it could be worse so he accepts it. the library’s fairly empty but he can’t quite decide where he wants to sit and if he actually wanted to do any studying at all, and then he sees you.

you, who is sitting cross legged in one of the big window nooks, headphones on with a book and laptop in your lap and in front of you but long forgotten as you watch the rain fall. he's seen you around before, but knows nothing about you, but you've always caught his eye. and seeing you right now watching the rain, in your own little world, is making his heart skip a beat more than it usually does when he sees you. suddenly, however much it sucks for him to always be around his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend that he secretly has been pining for all this time doesn't even matter to him. he doesn't even know your name, not yet at least, but he decides that he needs to. his legs are moving on their own accord as he makes his way to sit opposite of you in the nook.

he doesn't say anything at first, doesn't even ask if it's okay to sit there he just does even tho there are many open spots, and after what feels like forever of just looking at you looking out the window, you finally look his way.

"hi" he manages to speak out, voice just barely over a whisper.

"hi." you say back taking off your headphones. you have a bit of a confused look on your face but otherwise friendly. he'd never even heard your voice before but he thinks it's the most wonderful thing he's ever heard.

"i'm--" he goes to introduce himself nervously, but you interrupt him.

"i know who you are, art." you point out all soft and sweet and now he's embarrassed that he doesn't know who you are.

"you do?" he's flushing and running a hand through his wet hair.

"of course i do. we had a class together last semester and this one. you're also on the tennis team, right?" you laugh and say with ease. he's even more embarrassed now that he hasn't realized that he's had class with you this whole time but doesn't know your name, but the fact you're still giving him the time of day is encouragement enough for him to not run away right now.

he asks for your name and you give it to him with a smile and shake his hand. your hand fits perfectly in his, and he thinks your name is like a melody. the conversation that strikes up between the two of you is casual and easy, and you make him laugh in a way he hasn't in awhile. you tease him for not bringing an umbrella on the rainiest day, and he shakes his wet curls in your face like a dog just so he can hear your laugh again. if he could bottle up the sound and save it forever he would. but you offer to share your umbrella since as it turns out, you don't live that far away from him, and who is he to say no?

you guys huddle under the shared umbrella as you walk through the pouring rain, your hands brushing each other, making him feel all sorts of things. he's been in love with tashi all this time even if she can't be his, but something about your smile and simple kindness has him thinking just maybe he's not doomed at love. maybe he's getting ahead of himself, but as you guys reach his place and he insists on making it up to you for sharing your umbrella, he can't help but think this could be something good. who cares about tashi and patrick anyway?

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Hold it against me, cool to the touch Nobody knows what it's like to be us Somebody finds me in the shallow end Love you like I mean it just because I can

it starts slow. art can't quite decipher where his feelings for tashi end and where his growing ones for you begin, but he knows that he's drawn to you in a way he's never experienced before. he needed a distraction but thats not just what you are, what you're becoming to him, he thinks.

so he seeks you out more. finds a way to sit next to you in class. shares his notes with you, not that you need notes from him but he offers anyways. notices when you're feeling tired in class so he suggests getting coffee or a bite to eat after. sometimes you say yes, but other times you say no. you know he spends a lot of time with tashi duncan, star tennis player of the whole university, and sure she's dating his best friend, but you've heard the rumors. art's cute, but you don't want to get caught up in whatever that is.

but art's not just cute, he's sweet and effortlessly charming. he somehow just knows when you don't bring a drink to class and has one for you. he seeks you out in the library even though you know he's not really a scholar, and he offers to share his umbrella when its raining, which he always remembers to carry around now, even if its not raining hard, and even if he knows you have your own.

he's spending more time with you than he is with patrick and tashi. they don't really mind, even if part of them wonders what's going on with him. them not really minding has art feeling weird, because part of him still wants them to care, he wants tashi to care. but the rest of him is just glad that he's getting you to give him a chance. when it comes to you, the rest of the world seems to fade away for him.

before you even realize it, you've started to say yes to him every time he asks you to do something. you don't wait for him to seek you out in the library, you ask him to join you. you "forget" your umbrella just so you guys can share his. he takes the opportunities presented to him to shyly keep an arm around you or hold your hand, and when you don't tell him not to, he's never shy again.

the two of you are dating, even if it's not explicitly said. it's june now, and it seems like everything's really good and he's barely even thinking about tashi anymore. you're a welcome distraction but you're also everything and more to him. he wants to make you his, officially, and he's scared out of his mind to put a label on it but nothing would make him happier.

he plans this nice picnic on a rare sunny day. after indulging in some of your favorite snacks, he's laying on his back on the blanket, a baseball cap you got him on his head blocking the sun from his eyes, and you're on your stomach but resting your head on your hands on his chest, and you guys mindlessly talking about something. the sun's shining down on you so perfectly, the wind in your hair. he has no idea what you're saying at this point because he just can't stop looking at you. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he longs to be with you even if you weren't with him. he feels so warm inside and out when he's with you.

he moves hair out of your face and he's interrupting whatever you're saying before he even realizes what he's saying.

"do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asks suddenly, still moving hair behind your ear. this wasn't part of the plan he had in mind today but here goes nothing.

"what?" you question with a confused and disbelieving laugh. he realizes what he's asked but he doesn't take it back, just smiles at you.

"i want to be your boyfriend, so i was just wondering if you'd want to be my girlfriend. like officially." he repeats, a little shy, a little nervous, albeit anticipating what you have to say.

"hmm like officially?" you tease, sitting up a bit, but smiling at him nonetheless.

"yea, like officially." he says simply, sitting up too, and gazing at you with that stupid grin he always has when he thinks knows he's getting what he wants.

you answer him by turning the hat on his head that you got him backwards and kissing him, soft and sweet. it's not the first time, but its definitely better than all the other times. he cups your face and kisses you back slow, happily and deeply. you hold a hand over his, your touch making him melt as usual. maybe everything is going to be fine.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Taking a picture of all the people close to us Head below the surface, almost never certain of the truth (mm) I'm always, forever, runnin' back to you (you, ooh) Runnin' back to you (ooh) Runnin' back to you

you had become a plus one to art's place in his little trio. he had made it a point to include you whenever it felt like it was something he thought would be good. patrick was kind to you and was always willing to spill art's secrets to you. tashi talked to you, was friendly enough, but it's not like you were friends outside of this. you didn't have anything in common outside of your boyfriends. you didn't need her approval, but sometimes it felt like art did. you didn't want to question it, at least not out loud. it was just weird when you would go to his matches and after talking to you he'd ask her what she thought. maybe it's 'cause you're not a tennis player. that had to be the only reason. right?

but he was glad to have you come anyways. when you'd join for hangouts he he always said he played better when you were there. with you, he could hold his head high on and off the court. he wasn't always sure of himself in life or when playing tennis, but if he was almost certain of one thing it was that his heart beat for you. he kissed you like you were the oxygen filling his lungs before every match, always running to wrap you up in his arms as soon as it was over, win or lose. he always assured you you were his good luck charm, his best girl, the most important thing to him besides tennis. and you believed him. even when sometimes it felt weird to take pictures of just him and patrick and tashi when celebrating a win. they were important to him, you understood that, you just wanted to feel important too.

patrick and tashi weren't perfect individuals or a perfect pair but they fit. when he was away you didn't think it was that weird for art and tashi to get lunch just the two of them. art would relay to you that patrick and her sometimes fought, mostly about tennis, but other stupid stuff, and lunch was just a way for him to check in on her for his best friend since he couldn't be around. it was the truth. at least what he believed it was.

but when her injury happened, and patrick and her broke up, patrick's presence in art's life disappeared too. art wouldn't explain so you didn't want to pry more. you and art were still together, but this pit in your stomach started to form the more he was there for her during this tough time. he started being late or missing plans with you because he wanted to help her get back on the court or she didn't want to go to her physical therapy but obviously needed to so he'd take her to make sure she went.

one day, you and him were sat in your room. him on your bed, you leaning against your desk, keeping a distance from him. he wanted to reach out to you and pull you into his arms, make it all go away and show you that you were the one he wanted, but he knew he'd been messing up. you guys were supposed to do stuff today, but that didn't happen because he was with her.

"she had a rough day. i just wanted to be there for her." he said, defending himself after missing yet another hangout with you. he did feel guilty. he loved you. more than he could really put into words, but this felt like something he needed to do for her.

"i get that, i was just really looking forward to our plans. and you didn't call so i was just waiting around." you explained. you weren't mad, just disappointed, again.

"i promise we can go tomorrow. just you and me, i'll make it up to you." he pleaded, standing up and grabbing your hands. "i'm sorry. it won't happen again." he rested his forehead against yours, urging you to look at him. he believed in what he was saying. he knew he was pushing you away unintentionally, and he hated it, he just didn't know how to fix it sometimes. he just hoped it would work itself out and he didn't have to lose you. after all, he always came back to you at the end of the day.

"okay, tomorrow then." you sigh out softly, squeezing your eyes shut and squeezing his hands in yours three times as if to say the three words that seem impossible to say these days. he brings your hands to his mouth to adorn each individual knuckle with a kiss, before he presses a lingering one your forehead and hugs you, trying to make it all better.

and the next day, he follows through with his promise. but something has shifted. you both can't quite put your fingers on it, but it's there hanging over your heads.

he doesn't miss any more hangouts, but the amount of hangouts that get planned decrease. it's clear that tashi's not going to play tennis again. and she probably does need someone to lean on, more than she'd like to admit. sometimes she's seeking him out, but more often than not she doesn't have to because he's going to her anyway. you can't even hate her because it's not even her fault. it's not her fault that your boyfriend would do anything for her, the way he's supposed to do for you. the way he used to.

he loves you, and you love him, but it doesn't mean love is enough. not when this is happening. he'd never break up with you first, so you have to rip off the bandage.

it's february again and its raining out when you meet him outside his room. he doesn't exactly know why you asked to come here, or why you won't come in despite how wet you guys are becoming, but he has a feeling that it's not good.

"it's over, art." you say simply to him. his heart sinks in his chest, and he feels like he's going to throw up.

"why?" he asks, even if he knows the answer. he's getting drenched by the rain, the clothes he's wearing and the hat you got him sitting on his head probably getting ruined, but at least maybe the rain will conceal how he's about to cry.

"I just...can't anymore." you sound defeated and sad. he hates everything about this. he knows he's hurt you, but he doesn't know how to fight for you either.

"i'm sorry." that is all he can say, resisting every urge to pull you close and make this right.

"me too." you sigh out before leaving.

everything about this sucks. he knows a lot of it is his own fault. but he just can't do anything about it. so he goes back inside.

by june, him and tashi are already officially dating. he wishes she was you sometimes, often wonders how you're doing. but he doesn't reach out. he wanted to be the one to tell you that him and tashi were dating, he felt guilty about it and for some reason couldn't stand the idea of letting you find out through the grapevine. but he also knows you probably wouldn't want to hear from him anyway. so he doesn't.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You're always gonna be someone that I want (oh) We have too many years between us If I could jump into the past, I'd only change one thing I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave And now I'm here forever, runnin' back to you Always

two springs and summers had passed since the spring that you broke up with art. yet there's parts of him that are still holding onto the year you spent together, to the first spring he laid eyes on you in the library. him and tashi have been together for almost all this time. she never was able to play tennis again like she used to, but she'd become more than his girlfriend, now she was his coach. she shaped him into the player he needed to be to win the high profile titles he now holds. it wasn't that they weren't happy, the whole tennis community knew them to be a rising power couple, but the dynamic was different than it was with you.

tashi was beautiful, determined, rough around the edges and strategic. everybody knew her and wanted to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her light. he'd stood by her in her darkest time and she'd been standing by him at every win. pushing him harder than he'd ever been pushed towards greatness. she knew he needed tennis, especially if he couldn't have you, even if he wouldn't admit it. she wanted the greatness she couldn't have for herself for him and she was grateful to be able to be part of tennis and his life in this way. so sometimes it was easier for her to pretend they could love each other the way they should. the way he loved you and the way she loved tennis and patrick.

which brings him to the atlanta open. spring on this part of the east coast was nice and art was trying to enjoy it even he's still been feeling cold. his grandmother had died a couple months ago, leaving him her engagement ring, telling him to save it for someone special. those two things were weighing on his mind pretty frequently, especially because when you'd heard the news you reached out to him to give your condolences. you didn't have to say anything, but you were always the bigger person. it was one of the few times you and him had spoken over the years since you broke up. every single time fleeting and politer than he knew had earned and god did it make him miss you.

you, him, and tashi weren't at stanford anymore so there was no reason to see each other anymore, but the passing moments of inevitable running into each other on campus were things he looked forward to. but now you're all graduated, he hadn't seen you in person in about two years and ever seeing you again seems like it would never happen. his only choice is to focus on his skill, winning this open and the next, and tashi. he just wasn't sure if tashi was the special person his grandmother was talking about.

he had actually been looking for tashi when he headed down to the hotel lobby. he could've sworn he saw her sitting by a window, across from patrick, but not really wanting to deal with that he turns his attention to the fan that's called his name to ask for his autograph. when he turns back she's gone and he decides to get a drink anyway to wash down the long day he's had. he orders and that's when he now spots you on the other end, suitcase in hand and ordering the same drink he knows you always have.

art doesn't even know how long he's been frozen in place, taking you in, until you notice him too. you smile and before either of you notice you're sitting next to each other at the bar. you're the same, but different, better, even, if that was even possible. he's always thought you were perfect. he knew he loved you for all that you were before, but he's sure now more than ever that he's never stopped.

by pure coincidence, you're passing through on a work trip and are being put up by your company in the very same hotel. the more the two of you talk he doesn't think this is coincidence, he's convinced its fate. that the universe wants the two of you to be together. when some hair falls in front of your face as you laugh, a sound he hadn't realized he's missed so much even if it's been on replay in his mind all this time, he instinctually moves it behind your ear. he's barely realized he's done it until you're looking at him all wide eyed and he pulls his hand back. suddenly you're pretending to be tired, telling him it was great to catch up and to give tashi your best, and trying to leave.

his heart drops to his stomach at the possibility of losing you again and before he can convince himself it's a bad idea, he's begging you to meet him here tomorrow after your conference and after his match.

"i don't know...what about tashi?" you voice your concern and he hates that you're hesitating but he understands.

"i have no right to ask you to do anything for me, but i promise that if you meet me tomorrow i'll figure it out. i just can't let you go like this. not again." he's pleading with you, grabbing your hand. your skin is cool to the touch but he's burning up inside at the chance to be with you again.

you don't know if you can trust him, and you're not sure if you can handle being hurt by him again, but you've always had a soft spot for him, so you agree anyway.

his heart's racing as he returns to his own room. seeing you is something straight out of a movie, and he knows he's making no sense but he'd messed up once and he rather take a risk now then hate himself for the rest of his life. when tashi returns with patrick's cologne on her skin and asking if that was me she caught a glimpse of earlier, her and art both know its over. they'll keep it out of the press and if he'll find another coach if that's what he wants. usually they'd fight each other on this but they know they can't go on like this.

the next day he waits anxiously. watching the clock tick away. it's only ten minutes after the time you agreed to meet and he's scared you're not coming. he's bouncing his leg as a coping mechanism until you're walking in. he's nearly falling out of his seat as he stands up to meet you.

"you came." he stammers out taking you in.

"i wasn't sure if i should." you admit quietly.

he nods and momentarily takes off the baseball cap he's wearing to run a hand through his hair nervously. you know it's the one you gave him in college but you don't point it out.

"i get it. but i'm glad you came."

"so...you wanted to talk?' you ask awkwardly, unsure of how to navigate this. he nods again and suggests walking outside.

it's quiet at first, even as your arms brush each other's as you walk. but he stops suddenly, turning towards you, knowing that if he doesn't say anything now he might never.

"i'm sorry. for everything. " he begins to say, you try to interrupt and tell him it's been a long time but he doesn't let you continue, needing to say this. "i need you to know that i regret everything. that it's over with tashi, that it has been long before today. i had this idea that i needed her and i could still have you and i was wrong. i never needed her and i wasted so much time thinking that when the only person who was ever it for me was you. "

art's words are earnest and the tears in his eyes match the ones in yours.

"i don't hold it against you. i just wish you would've fought for me. for us. all i've ever wanted was for you to see yourself the way i did." you sniffle out. art's always had this sincere side to him, but it's been so long since you've seen it that it's just a lot to process.

"i know and i'm sorry. i'm so goddamn sorry that it took me losing you to understand that i've never wanted anything else than to be yours. " he cries, cupping your face, his thumbs wiping the tears there away.

art realized too late that he should've fought for you. you, who was always so patient and kind and accepting of who he was in and out of tennis. you, who was soft and thoughtful in ways he didn't think he deserved and taught him you can want things and get them without being so hard on yourself. he was the one who was lucky to be in your light, and he couldn't even blame you for leaving. he just wished he hadn't pushed you away, that he wasn't simultaneously an ass and a coward for letting you slip through his fingers. but this is him fighting for you now, and he was praying to a god he wasn't sure he always believed in that this was his chance to make it right.

"if you'll have me, i want to fight for you. i'll spend everyday for the rest of my life fighting for you, proving to you that i want you, that...i love you. i can't lose you again." he's still holding your face in his hands, gazing into your eyes and hoping that you can understand just how much regret he's been holding in, that you'll say something that'll make him stop shaking right now.

you bring a hand to move some hair that is stuck to his face from under the brim of his hat. he leans into the touch as you rest your hand on his own cheek, shivering at how it feels after all this time.

"you're always going to be someone that i want." you say softly.

and that's all it takes for him to surge forward and press his lips to yours. from that point on, he never feels cold again. and by next summer, his grandmother's ring is on your finger.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Summer is falling, it's a distant dream If I turn around, you're runnin' back to me

a/n i kinda hate this but i needed to write it! plz be kind! likes and reblogs appreciated!

[telephoniii]

WHY WOULD A FELLOW WANT A GIRL LIKE HER?

☆彡 in which malleus and leona fight for your affections

leona kingscholar x gn!reader & malleus draconia x gn!reader

word counter: 4K

warnings: reader is prefect, cursing, love triangle, possible ooc

a/n: based off of the song “stepsister’s lament” from cinderella the musical— hence the title. one of my favorite works!! I had fun writing this!! both mal and leona are capital p PETTY and I'm living for it. i hope you enjoy :>

No matter how much he claims he doesn't care, Leona finds himself hissing at the sight of you and Malleus together. He wants to deny it so badly— but deep down he knows. 

He knows as he glares at you, sitting on a bench beside the fae, giggling and having a jolly old time. He’s well aware of what he’s feeling as he scoffs, telling the greedy hyena beside him that he’s returning to the dorm.

And he’s fully conscious as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling; unable to get the image of you and that spiny horned reptile out of his head. 

He’s jealous. Envious. And any damn variation of the sort.

Out of all the people you could choose to spend your time with, you pick that slimy lizard?! 

Your taste is questionable—who’s he kidding? Absolutely awful. Really, going for the guy who doesn’t age? Ever think about how awkward it’s going to be when you’re getting hip pains and he still looks like a teenager? Hell, he’s not one for settling down but wouldn’t you at least want someone with the capacity of growing old together?!

What does that scaley little scumbag do for you anyway?

Sure, Malleus does gift you little trinkets you’ve mentioned in passing. Leona isn’t blind; he can see the way you light up at these gifts. He distinctly remembers seeing a dorky gargoyle keychain on your bag. It stank of that fae freak. 

Yet you seemed to adore the tiny statue, so much so that you went on a small rant about the history. To Leona’s surprise, he listened to every single word you had to say about it. Gargoyles are always way more interesting when it’s you talking about it. 

Though, everything involving you is more interesting nowadays… He had to resist the urge to sand that stupid little toy right then and there.

And he’s well aware of the ‘secret’ walks the two of you have at unholy times of the night, talking about whatever that overgrown lizard is interested in. The way you speak of it like nobody knows is irritating. Only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on it. 

Too bad NRC is full of idiots.

It’s not like it matters too much anyway. He doubts Malleus has the charisma to charm you. The guy isn’t invited to a whole lot of events for a reason. While Leona knows he can come off as a prick, he’s still a prince nonetheless. He was taught how to flatter and flirt— he remembers being surrounded by a bunch of bootlickers as a cub. 

He isn’t intimidated by Malleus’s magic all too much either. Although he’s more than sure you wouldn’t fall for a person solely based on their strength, Leona believes he could take on Malleus. The lizard is painfully predictable after all. 

Not to mention most of his ‘shows of power’ are akin to temper tantrums. If dueling wasn’t banned, that pathetic excuse of a dragon would be dragged in the mud by him.

Everything Malleus does for you, he could do better. He’s sure of it. 

Beneath the surface, is he scared of coming second place to yet another person? Terrified that he’ll always be the second-best choice? That all the time spent with you would never be more than that? Maybe. 

But those night terrors are lessened when he sees you approach— knowing he was the sole reason you were there. 

Leona feels his heart race as you sit beside him, casually talking about your day and whatever hijinks you got into. He worries you might hear just how fast it beats for you when you nap with him, laying your head on his chest. 

As he hears you mumble his name in your sleep, he feels reassured that he’s your one. 

I mean— why would someone as great as you ever want a flimsy, little lizard? Especially when he’s right here, ready to be your pillow in hard and happy times. 

~

A green thunderbolt struck through the sky. Coincidentally, you happened to be napping on Leona outside when this happened— shaking the both of you awake.

Did Malleus do this on purpose?… Of course not. He’s not immature enough to do that, unlike a certain lion he knows.

It’s not his fault that you two were cuddling outside when he was ‘testing’ out something with his thunder.

That doesn’t mean he was any less satisfied watching you get up and walk back to your dorm, leaving that mangy cat by himself.

He never understood what value you gained from hanging around someone as…unusual as Kingscholar. A ‘prince’ who lays around, sleeping the day away? What a joke! Wouldn’t you rather have a prince— better yet a ruler— who’s proactive in his kingdom?

That flappy street cat is better suited to accompany Grim rather than yourself. 

He doubts Kingscholar would hold open the door for you like he does! 

Malleus has heard it’s a human custom to do so; ever since then, he’s now perfected the art of swiftly rushing over to a door and slamming it open for you. It delights him when you giggle at his antics. He bets that idiotic lion would never be able to do that— Kingscholar barely moves anyway. It’s like he’s glued to that bed of his.

Kingscholar seems as though he’d let the door slam in your face. That alone just shows how superior Malleus is to him. 

Although, Kingscholar’s words of advice indeed seemed to matter to you quite a lot. Every time you had attracted chaos, you commonly turned to the lazy loaf and asked for his perspective. And each time, without fail, Mal had watched you take the prince’s suggestion in stride and use it.

It pains him to admit it, sometimes Kingscholar can be rather clever. Malleus is somewhat glad that said lion uses his intelligence to keep you safe.

He doesn’t know what, but something about Kingscholar’s mere existence seems to relax you. Malleus has seen you look at ease in a way he’s never witnessed before when you simply just lay beside the other student. He watches with envy as Kingscholar’s tail protectively wraps around your thigh. 

As long as you’re safe… Malleus supposes he can bear through you hanging out with the lion.

That won’t stop him from interrupting the two of you whenever he feels the time is right. Sudden bolts of thunder, random objects falling from the sky and hitting Kingscholar on the head, out-of-the-blue power outages…

It’s all fair play to him. You still get to hang out with that lazy excuse of a prince anyway.

It doesn’t matter too much to him— at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s not as though you’d leave him to hang out with Kingscholar; no, you’d never. 

You’ll stay, won’t you?

He’s sure of it as you walk beside him in the dead of night. Nobody else knows, nor do they need to as you two stroll along the campus. Seeing your enthusiastic smile next to him as you talk about your dreams fills him with unexplainable joy. Malleus fights the urge to hold your hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

You seemed to have read his mind— you always do understand him like no other— as you glanced down at your hands. A small giggle leaves your lips before you inch your hand closer to his.

“Can we…?” You hum with hopeful and amused eyes.

Wordlessly, Malleus indulges now with your consent. The warmth of your hand compared to the polarizing coldness of his made him feel dizzy. In a good way. 

You’ll never leave him. At least not when you're hand in hand together like this.

~

“Man I’m starving— Hurry it up, henchman!” A familiar, squeaky voice demanded as Grim pushed on your shoulder. 

“Patience, patience. This is very important. It can determine my mood for the rest of the day.” You murmured, standing strong despite Grim’s efforts. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the different lunch options. 

What were you going to eat today?

“Prefect has a point. Your nutrition affects the way you function.” Jack shrugs behind Grim, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You say that like they’re going to eat something healthy.” Ace yawns, stretching out his arm and lightly hitting Deuce. “Hurry it up, Prefect! Clock’s ticking!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, you grabbed the same thing you’ve gotten for the past week. A series of groans emerged from behind you.

“All that time just to get that?” Ace crossed his arms, giving you an unamused look. 

“Okay, I’ll get something else then—“

“—Nononononono!” Practically everyone behind you yelled in a panic.

“Just go sit down ‘n secure us a table already!” Epel huffs, to which you happily comply.

You scout out the area, looking for a free table to sit at. Geez, was the cafeteria always this packed?

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you spot a familiar, robotic Shroud waving to you from a table.

“Prefect!” Ortho chirps, his voice synthesizer going a pitch up. Just as you were about to walk over, you felt your blazer being pulled on from the back. Suddenly, you were yanked away.

“Ay! Watch it—!” You grab the hand that was pulling on you, turning around to come face to face with a smug Ruggie.

“Leona’s callin’ you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He didn’t want to send a text or call? He just had to send a goon to come and get me?” 

Ruggie nodded with a cheeky grin.

“Yep.”

Groaning, you turn towards Ortho and wave him goodbye, signaling that you are going to leave. “Lead the way, hyena.”

And with that, you found yourself walking through the hallways on your way to Savanaclaw. You hope Ortho told the others about you leaving. It kinda slipped your mind to tell them.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard munching coming from Ruggie— “Wait, that's my lunch you’re eating! How’d you even…!? When did you…?!”

It also slipped your mind that Ruggie is both a great thief and greedy when it comes to food.

“Shishishishi… you left yourself open, Prefect! I’m sure Leona will get you something else to eat. He always does.”

“Always is a stretch.” You grumble, watching Ruggie eat your food. “Is it?” You didn’t want to ponder his question. 

Instead, you turn your gaze ahead of you and focus on walking… At least that’s what you would be doing if you didn’t walk face-first into somebody. 

“Gah! I’m so sorry—“ “Child of man.” 

Only one person used that nickname for you. Looking up, you were met with Malleus’s amused smile. 

“Impeccable timing,” The fae seemed happy to see you. You could see his fangs the way he was smiling. Ruggie was unsettled but thankful that Malleus was ignoring his presence. “Would you accompany me for lunch? Lilia, Sebek, and Silver will be there too, of course.” 

You were about to accept right away before you felt a light hit to your side. Ruggie sneakily elbowed you. Before you could curse at him, he gave you a look and— Oh, right. You were going with him to spend lunch with Leona already. A small frown made its way on your lips as you turned back to Malleus.

Great sevens, it was hard to turn him down. Especially when he was all cheery like this. 

Fortunately— or unfortunately, you didn’t have to. A roaring voice from behind you did it for you.

“Herbivore’s coming with me. They agreed to it already.” Leona huffed, a scowl clear on his face as he approached. Ruggie seemed surprised.

“Leona?! What’re you—“ “Did they now? I didn’t exactly hear them say no to my proposal though.” Malleus interrupted Ruggie, whose ears went flat against his head. 

“They don’t need to. They’ve already got plans.” The lion growled, narrowing his eyes at the other third year. 

Malleus stepped forward, the fae’s irritation growing. “Why do you insist on speaking for them so vigorously? My dear child of man, don’t let him dictate your choices—“

“I’m not doing shit. Just stating what they already agreed to.” Leona also stepped forward, refusing to back down. 

You were starting to get worried and turned your head to murmur something to Ruggie. Except Ruggie wasn’t there. The hyena snuck off already. Bastard. A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Well, Prefect? Who would you rather accompany? Kingscholar— who’ll likely laze around the whole lunch— or I?”

“Damn lizard…” Leona grumbled under his breath before shaking his head and facing you. “Well? The choice is yours. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering between the two. “Well… I—“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by a loud ring.

The lunch bell had rung. It was time to head back to class.

~

“Are you doing okay?” You ask, shifting closer to Leona. He lets out a small grunt in response, his eyes closed as he sprawled out in his usual spot inside the Botanical Garden. 

For as tough as Leona was, he was unusually soft when tired. He carried this relaxing air around him. That no matter what happens, you’ll be okay with him around. The thought makes you smile as you tilt your head at him.

He was also kinda cute when he laid there like that—

“Quit staring.”

Leona abruptly huffed out. Blinking in surprise, you soon realize that one of his eyes was cracked open. A tiny blush finds its way on your cheeks while he stutters out an apology. The lion’s lips soon form a smug grin.

“You were looking at me pretty attentively, herbivore…” His words are slow and agonizing. Leona’s tail swishes up and down as he leans in closer. Your eyes widen as he comes mere inches away from your face; from your lips.

“…Got something you want to tell me?” You feel your breath hitched at the sudden, feather-light touch of Leona’s hand against yours. Just as you were about to respond—

“Roi du Lions!” 

The romantic atmosphere Leona so carefully built went down the drain, along with his motivation. A groan left his lips.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Trey soon appears behind Rook, an apologetic expression on his face. You shake your head, standing up. 

“You’re good! What’re you two up to?” 

Leona had an annoyed look on his face as you engaged with the other students. He tried to ignore and drown out everyone’s voices. At least he was, till Rook caught his attention.

“During an exploration for new ingredients that we could bring to our club, Roi de Dragons made a magical appearance.“ You raised a brow while Leona’s ear flicked.

Trey let out a small chuckle at Rook’s dramatic storytelling.

“Malleus just asked us to find something for him in the Botanical Garden.” 

Leona’s scowl deepened. That damn lizard.

“Maybe we could help! What’re you looking for?” You offered.

Trey soon fiddled with his pocket, searching for something. Shortly after, he pulls out a piece of paper. “A… toy? It looks like this. Malleus said he last had it here.”

You made an “O” shape with your mouth. “His virtual pet! Gao-Gao!” Trey lets you hold the paper, letting you get a closer look at the drawing that resembled Malleus’s Tamogachi. 

“I know what it looks like, I’ve got no idea where he could’ve left it though…” Soon enough, you, Trey, and Rook are scouring the Botanical Gardens for this little toy. Leona finds this stupid. 

Slightly bitter about his ruined moment, he lays back down to take a nap.

That’s when his ear flinched after hitting something hard. Turning around with a displeased look, Leona’s eyes narrowed.

There, in his favorite sleeping spot was Malleus’s dumb toy —which wasn’t there literally minutes ago might he add. Picking it up, Leona contemplated crushing the small electronic. However, as he held it, the lion was quick to notice a bit of ink getting on his fingers. 

He turned the Tamogachi around. Written on the back with a blue pen was “Kingscholar :)”

Oh, that fucking Draconia did this on purpose.

~

Sitting up from your bed, you rub your eyes. With an annoyed groan, you get up and go to the door— trying not to wake Grim in the process. You could feel the ghost watching with curiosity. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you were curious too!

Who was knocking at 2 in the morning!?

The sun wasn’t even up. Ramshackle probably looked horrid, inside and outside, at this time.

You weren’t looking too great either: bags beneath your eyes, saggy pajamas, slouched posture… Vil would die on the spot if he saw you. Internally, you prayed it was anybody but him. And thank the Sevens that your prayer was answered.

You titled your head in confusion at the one in front of you.

“Malleus?” He smiled back at you. As though his appearance on your doorstep at the crack ass of dawn was the most normal thing ever.

“Greetings.”

You shook your head, still waking up and trying to make sense of the situation. “Do… Do you need something?”

Now he looked confused. Which only heightened your confusion.  The fae furrowed his brows. “Did you not want to talk, child of man?” 

“I like talking with you! Just, preferably not this early in the morning— Look, why are you here? Did you just want to hang out, Tsunotarou?” You tried being as polite as possible, but damn you were tired. 

Malleus looked just as lost as you.

“…Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the letter you sent me?” You look to the side, slightly scrunching your nose as you try to remember what ‘letter’ he was referring to. 

“Uhh— When did I send this letter?” You give him an apologetic smile. It wasn’t too far-fetched; the idea of you giving him an invitation to Ramshackle. 

However, you feel as though you would’ve remembered if you had actually done it. And you would’ve hoped that past you would be smart enough to set your invitation time to anytime BUT 2 AM. 

“I recall receiving this letter yesterday, in the library,” Malleus explained, his hand reaching into his pocket to find said paper. “You slipped it to me when you walked by—“

The fae grabbed his invitation, only for him to be met with sand that trickled down his hand.

“—with Kingscholar…” He fell silent as he stared at the tiny particles in his hand. You seemed to catch on quickly, giving him a sympathetic look as your eyes flickered between the sand and him.

“Tsunotarou, did you see me give you this letter?” 

The way he averted his eyes to the side, his pale cheeks faintly turning pink from embarrassment, already gave you the answer you needed. It’d be cute if not for the circumstances. As expected, Malleus shook his head.

“My apologies… I assumed it was you since I had acquired it right after you had waved at me and it was an invitation to Ramshackle.”

You let out a small chuckle before brushing off the sand that still dirtied his hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault that Leona is… well Leona and he does stuff like this.” Offering Malleus a smile, your hand soon intertwined with his. The blush on his cheeks subtly brightened.

“Well, you did come all this way just to hang out. It’d be a shame to turn you away now. Here, come.” You kick the door to open it wider and pull the fae inside Ramshackle. Leading him to the couch, you could gauge that Malleus was amused by your antics. Practically dragging one of the top mages in the world by the arm into your dorm…

“Let me just freshen up first! Wait here— I’ll be right back. Then we could watch some movies or whatever.” You shrugged with a grin before running upstairs to wash up. Malleus gave you a polite and happy wave as you exited.

Once you left, he let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he felt more sand pooling in his pockets. A green bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

That measly fucking lion.

~

You let out an aggravated sigh. Did they not think you realized what both of them were doing to each other? Between the Tamagotchi incident and the whole letter debacle a few nights ago, they were being so obvious.

Jeez, you get that they had a rivalry going on and whatnot, but why did they have to involve you? Fed up and rambling, you look to your side at Grim to get his thoughts on the matter. He sat next to you in the kitchen, munching away on a can of tuna.

“They’re getting really annoying! Stealing my henchmen’s time like that…” A chuckle left your lips at Grim’s bitterness, causing you to pet him on the head. 

“Mhm. I just want them to quit it— at least around me. I’m good friends with both and care a lot about them… Also, don’t talk with a mouthful.” You lightheartedly huff, getting up from your seat to grab Grim another can of tuna as he was beginning to finish his first. He usually ate two to three cans before bedtime.

“Why don’t ya just tell 'em?” The cat curiously asked with a tilt of the head, staring at you. You let out a snort. “Yeah, just tell two extremely powerful mages with an intense hatred for one another to stop. Like that’ll work.”

Grim let out an annoyed groan at your sarcasm. You opened a new can of tuna and slid it to him. His frown quickly disappeared as he began to dig in.

“Eh— sounds like Leona and Malleus could use some quality time together.” Grim offhandedly comments, chewing away on his food. 

“What did I say about talking with a mouthful, man?” You roll your eyes before falling silent, pondering his words. Quality time… Leona… Malleus…

“Grim! You’re a genius!”

~

“Herbivore, what the hell.” Leona’s tone was unamused, giving you a deadpan look.

“I thought it’d be nice if we hung out all together! As a group?” 

The two men stared daggers at each other across the small, dusty table in Ramshackle. With a nervous chuckle, your eyes flickered between the two as you slowly passed out cards for some random board game that Idia lent you.

Leona and Malleus didn’t take their eyes off one another. It was at this moment you were starting to think that Grim, in fact, was not a genius.

These two were definitely going to kill each other.

[pocketsizedquasar-3]

[ID: 6 panels of a digitally drawn comic showing Daggoo doing twist-outs into Pip’s hair. Pip looks a little nervous through the process, with a warm & encouraging Daggoo, and by the end of it he looks at his reflection with surprised joy. More detailed IDs for each panel in alt.]

i finally finished what i was working on for @creatingblackcharacters’ Black History Month Challenge!

so for those who don’t know, for a few years now i’ve been working on adapting Moby Dick into a webcomic. as you might imagine, a text written by a white man in 1851 is oftentimes Very Racist with how it treats its characters of color, and this very much includes its Black characters, of which there are two of note in the cast, Daggoo and Pip. there are parts of the original text in which Melville tries (and even sometimes doesn’t completely fail) to say poignant things or critiques about racism in the text (and much of the text does very explicitly and intentionally deal w/ racism and racialized dynamics, something literally 99% of adaptations ignore), but for the most part, his nonwhite characters are flat, stereotypical, often violent, racist caricatures.

and i won’t get too much into that here (god knows i’ve rambled at LENGTH abt all of this many times & i will many more), because the point of this challenge is to share art about Black joy, but suffice to say that! I am doing my best to intentionally engage with the race & racism of the original text, whether it’s for characters of my own racial identity that Melville bastardizes (like Fedallah), or those of others (like his Black characters, Daggoo and Pip, and his Indigenous characters, and so on). It’s important to me not only to be in conversation with and to challenge Melville’s racism in my work, but also to allow these characters to be more than the one note racist stereotypes Melville writes them as.

So!!! that’s some long winded context, but here’s Daggoo doing Pip’s hair for him and showing him how! I’m extremely fond of Pip getting to be loved and cared for by others of the crew, especially the harpooners (of whom Dag is one). i just think Pip deserves his comically large number of dads who will care for him and make him feel safe and shelter him from the absolute Horror that is 19th century American Whaling (and the Horror that is their white crewmates!). i just think this little Black boy deserves love and joy 😭😭 and i think Daggoo deserves to be a soft, gentle caregiver who can give that to him.

I have lots more thoughts about this and about them and about their hair which i may expand on under a cut or in the tags, but because this is already getting so long!:

to my Black viewers, and my Black readers, you belong in classic literature spaces! you deserve to see yourselves represented thoughtfully and carefully in the ‘canon’ of literature, and to challenge when you aren’t, and be supported in your critiques! your contributions to both literature as a whole (whether “classic” or otherwise) and to literary analysis and critique are invaluable and irreplaceable, both when you discuss the racism in these works and spaces and when you engage in any other kind of analysis or creation. And I want you to be able to enjoy stories of all kinds without people brushing aside your existence or pretending your concerns are invalid or don’t matter because ~it’s a great classic!~ or ~it was a different time.~ your voices and your creations and your art matter.

& on the smallest scale, i hope at least to bring you a little bit of joy. 

I'm tagging some of my art friends! I know the lateness of this in the month means it’ll be hard for anyone to probably do anything of their own for the challenge, but hopefully y’all can still check out & support all the lovely art that’s already been made for this!! @coulson-is-an-avenger @fricklefracklefloof @layalu @brainwormterrarium @seaflying-fliptuna @rootscorrode @holocephal1 and anyone else who wants to!!

& thank you to Ice for making this wonderful challenge, and thank you for all the lovely, incredible work you do on @creatingblackcharacters. truly a blessing to this world 💖💖

anyway, some more notes, because i can’t help rambling:

i referenced a lot of images & videos of people doing twist outs for this but i wanna shout out the video i watched and rewatched and paused and zoomed in on the Most; it’s by kbmaria on YouTube and called “Twist Out on Short TWA 4C Hair | Big Chop Hairstyles”!! def go check her out :]

i loved looking up 1800s hair combs (and afro picks, though it seems they were all just called ‘combs’) & 1800s sleep bonnets for this! the details of the bonnets kind of got lost in simplification (they really do just look like modern ones but with more lace!) but drawing them and the comb was still fun. i also was looking up specifically a lot of Black hair care history and there is some really cool stuff about the original invention and spread of the hot comb (used for straightening hair) and Black people’s role in that (there’s again more i could get into but i won’t right now but do look it up if you’re interested! the library of congress has a good presentation article with sources about Black hair care history. much of it is later the timeline that’s relevant to these characters in particular, but still very interesting!)

i always defaulted to giving Daggoo an Afro when i designed him (mainly because he’s described with one in the book). over recent years, i’ve definitely thought more about this decision and about whether/how to incorporate different hairstyles into representing him. whaling is a…unique situation—long, long stretches of time (we’re talking months) of extreme lethargy with no tasks to do punctuated by unpredictable short bursts (days to weeks at a time) of incredibly high intensity, life threatening, and laborious work. it leaves lots of time to do more complicated, time-intensive hairstyles (which his hair definitely could benefit from in an environment where he’s getting very sweaty, sea-salty, and wet frequently!), but any of that time could be interrupted at any moment; it’s impossible to Plan for when the whale hunts happen and put your hair in a more protective style ahead of time. i don’t really have a specific answer to this yet, but it’s smthn i’m thinking about a lot and researching a lot! visual historical references we have (that i’ve seen at least) of Black sailors of this time tend to have their hair natural and short-cropped (which is how Pip keeps his), but i def want to draw more hairstyles on Dag at different points.

in any case, i do love the idea of him doing Pip’s hair for him (even if the style will be Very temporary due to the nature of their work — he’ll probably get wet very soon 😔) and showing him how to do different ones. starting with something maybe a little easier to do (like this twist out) and maybe showing more complex ones as time goes on.

as far as hair moisturizers go, ive also done a good amount of reading over the years of what kinds of hair moisturizers were available at diff time periods (did you know lots of victorian women used egg washes in their hair to keep it moisturized? i didn’t). i like to think that Dag keeps his own personal stash of natural oil of some kind — he may have access to coconut oil/cedarwood oil/smthn like that. and if he’s ever in a pinch, apparently whale oil is a fine hair moisturizer! and was even used in cosmetics in the 20th century! so hey. got plenty of that around lmao

i think that’s all i have to say for now lmao. thank you again Ice for making this challenge 💖💖

[ssentimentals]

nini hii!! i just saw your prompts list rn and can i request for prompt no. 55 with vernon and reader? i really really enjoy reading your works 🫶🏼 thank you so muchhhh 🩷

hihi love! aw, i'm glad you're loving my works and of course you can request it, thank you for doing so! 💜

prompt: mutual pining (+ oblivious)

'it's alright, vernon. i don't want to keep you from having fun,' you try to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. 'i'll be alright here.'

vernon ignores you, waving to all your friends, who hurry for the safari tour. the one where you would've also gone if you didn't trip and twist your ankle. the one where vernon could've easily gone but for some reason he chose to stay with you. it's- sweet. incredibly so. it's also very confusing and very, very bad for all the butterflies inside your stomach because you really can't give them any hope, you can't let them think even for a second that vernon might like you back.

'just a sec,' he goes to another sofa and snatches two pillows from it. 'i read that we need to keep your foot elevated, so..' carefully, like he's holding something precious, vernon places your leg on top of the pillow, looking at you with his big bambi eyes to check if it's aright. 'it's good like this? i can add one more pillow if you want.'

'no, it's good.'

you're desperately trying not to think of vernon reading on google about twisted ankles and how to treat them. he's doing this because he's nice and that's what nice people do, right? but all your friends are gone, your mind supplies, all of them are gone but he stayed. with the way you're sitting, you have a perfect view on the kitchen, where vernon diligently prepares ice for your ankle. it hurts but pain is rather dull due to medication they gave you at the hospital; what hurts you more is ruining vernon's holiday. 'i'm so sorry,' you let out, not being able to hold it in.

vernon pauses and closes the fridge, turning to you. 'for what?'

'for ruining your holiday. for holding you back. you are supposed to go and enjoy the safari with all the guys but instead you are here stuck with me,' your voice cracks in the end. 'i'm sorry, i know this is not how you pictured this trip.'

vernon doesn't say anything when he comes back. he stays silent as he wraps an icepack around your swollen ankle, covering it few towels so it can stay in place. he doesn't utter a word as he brings you water and granola pudding, shuffling your pillows so sitting would be much more comfortable. 'did you ask me to stay?' he suddenly asks, startling you. 'did you ask me to stay with you here?'

'no,' you answer, a bit confused.

'no, you didn't,' vernon agrees, nodding. 'i am here because i chose to be here. you're not ruining anything for me, you're not holding me back, so please stop apologizing. i want to be here.'

it feels like a punch in the gut. it feels like this is an admission of something bigger and you're too scared to go there, to breach that territory. vernon is kneeling in front of you, adjusting the ice pack and his hands grazy your skin softly. 'don't you want to be with our friends?' you ask even though that's not what you actually wanted to ask.

vernon seems to know it too by the way he looks at you. 'i'd rather stay with you here.'

butterflies are rising and you can't do anything to stop them. hope flares up in your chest and you want to squash it, tell it that it's too fucking soon, that-

'why did you come here?' he asks, maintaining eye contact with you. 'your best friend is not here and i know for a fact that you'd rather stayed at home instead of coming here. but you are here. why?'

because of you, you want to say. because i wanted to be close, because i stupidly thought that maybe if we spend more time together you will like me back. what comes out is: 'why did you stay?'

vernon chuckles. his hand caresses your leg lightly, lovingly. 'for the same reason you came here,' he finally answers. 'because of you.'

there's lump in your throat and it's a bit hard to swallow. later you will bring all the pain medication for making you emotional. 'you'd rather spend this day with me and swollen ankle than with the guys?' you ask in a trembling voice.

vernon looks at you like only you exist in this world. for him it is like that, but you don't know it yet. 'i'd choose you either way. any way. always.'

swollen ankle throbs, but it doesn't really matter when vernon's lips are on yours and he kisses you like what he said is all true. and it is.

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[pepshee]

Jealousy, or Jealous Hee: Second First Dates

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader Genre - smut, a bit of fluff, angst Synopsis - After you hooked up with you ex-boyfriend, Heeseung, who had broken up with you out of the blue you didn't know what would happen afterward. Will you finally get your answer as to why? Word Count - 5.4k Warnings - cursing, mentions of alcohol, a bit of angst towards the end, smut, reader is insecure, mentions of manipulation and peer pressure, heeseung is an asshole in the first half, some cringe (oops), mentions of Jake & other idols, mentions of possessive heeseung, heeseung is desperate and begs for forgiveness, a little fluff, cream pie, fingering, p in v, plot twist-ish?, lmk if I missed anything!! MDNI 18+ A/N: thank you guys for the love on the first part i really appreciate it 😭 i didn't expect ppl to actually like it but im really glad you did! also if you have c.ai, i make bots over there too! my invite code here! also.. please keep in mind this is only my second time ever writing a fanfic so if it's ass in your opinion then idk what to tell you... i hope you do enjoy tho thank you in advance for reading !! <3 (even if you didn't like it)

PART ONE HERE

Waking up in your own dorm after you had hooked up with your ex at a house party last night wasn't what you expected. You thought you'd be next to him, but of course, that was crushed. At least he was a gentleman and brought you home, right? There was one question that lingered in your mind, what happens now? It was disappointing not waking up next to him, but then again, what did you really expect?

You get up out of your bed seeing your roommate's bed is empty, but then the smell of bacon hits you, she must be cooking. After getting dressed you make your way to the kitchen, you are so glad your university was at least prestigious so they had bigger dorms than the average one. You had a raging headache, as expected from the alcohol. "Hey Giselle," your voice a bit scratchy due to having just woken up.

Giselle turns around, you can see the slight concern in her eyes but also a hint of a smirk. "Y/N, you're up," she says softly, however, you still had a ton of questions in your mind. "What happened last night?" You're a bit embarrassed at the fact you had to even ask that question.

"Well.. After we went to the party we all split up and I assume you went to drink alcohol, cause the next thing we knew you were being brought out of the party by Heeseung. You were completely asleep, nothing woke you up," your face heats up a bit at the memory of getting drunk and hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who fucked you over. "Right.. and did he tell you any details about anything..” You hoped that he didn’t because it would be even more embarrassing for your friends to know you had sex with your ex who fucked you over.

Those hopes are immediately crushed by Giselle’s reply, “Y/N you were so drunk you had sex with Heeseung, your fucking ex and you don’t even remember it,” she chuckles at the end of her sentence. 

Damn.. Well, now your friends know you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend.

“It was an accident..” 

“Y/N it’s okay to want him back, but..” she paused for a moment emphasizing the word ‘but.’ “You shouldn’t let him get it so easily,” she continued. 

Then an idea hit you, seduction.

“Giselle holy shit,” she perked up at your words while she plated the breakfast she just finished making for the two of you. 

“What'd you think of girl?”

“I’m gonna post slightly revealing photos of myself on my Instagram story with little subtle jabs at him like he does to me, I’m gonna get back at him by showing him what he made himself lose,” you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your face.

“You mean you’re gonna ‘show him what he’s missing?' Isn’t that super cliché?” she might be right.. But he did it first.

“Well he’s been posting his new girls to make me jealous, so why don’t I try seducing him, and if he messages me I just play hard to get. Like you said, I shouldn’t let him get to me so easily,” you relayed your reasoning for the idea and you see Giselle think for a moment considering your words. “Okay you know what, maybe it is a good idea, after all, he fucked you over,” she almost started grinning. 

After having eaten the breakfast Giselle cooked, you ran to your closet to pull over any sort of revealing clothes you had. You find a slightly-too-small black tank top, and grey shorts. You had originally planned on being comfy today since you were still hungover—you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but you quickly change into the tank top and the shorts and then did your makeup.

You decided to take a selfie in bed, and so you lay down and grabbed your phone. You swiped right to open your camera, and you positioned it in a way where it would show your cleavage just enough so that it's not obvious.

It took you a bit to get the perfect one, but when you did, you open Instagram and thought of a caption to put.

'i miss you. missing you is hard, but i bet missing me makes you hard'

You knew it was definitely cringe, but it got your point across so you could live with the cringe right?

You'd clicked the 'Add to story' button almost too fast. You and Heeseung don't follow each other anymore but you know he stalks your account. He uses his friend's account to do it without it being suspicious, which you can't blame him because why else would you have Giselle's password if not to stalk your ex-boyfriend cause he stalks you?

After logging into Giselle's account you tapped on Heeseungs story to see what he had posted. You immediately regret your decision because you're met with a photo of him and his friends, with alcohol, snacks, and of course, Heeseung is with a girl. He even had the audacity to put 'this could've been you' god this asshole doesn't know when to stop does he?

He was just being nice to you last night after you hooked up, why does he keep doing this to you? Once again with the taunting...

You were so lucky not to have Saturday classes, it meant you could go anywhere you wanted to. Believe it or not, you were actually majoring in dance, and even though you didn't have to go to classes, you still at least wanted to go to the studio.

────୨ৎ────

Dancing was therapeutic to you, everyone told you not to do it as your major because it wouldn't take you anywhere they said to just leave it a hobby. However, before you even graduated college you had offers from Idol companies trying to scout you. Usually, you would have celebrated that with Heeseung but that obviously wasn't an option.

You had spent a few hours dancing and you were getting really hungry and tired so you sprayed some perfume and reapplied deodorant before grabbing your bag and leaving the studio.

You didn't want to go out to eat so you decided to settle on the on-campus cafeteria which thankfully makes decent food. It was just about lunch time so it was quite packed there. You walked up to one of the counters and looked at the menu, but you still couldn't quite see so you took a couple of steps back until you felt your back hit something... or was it, someone?

The hands that flew to your waist were a clear indicator of who it was without even needing to turn around, it was him.

Too petrified to turn around, you just stand there frozen, not knowing what to do.

"You think you're slick huh? I saw what you posted on Instagram, it's about me, isn't it? In that case, you may be right," It's like your whole body failed to react, it didn't know how to. "I will say, whatever you're trying to do, it's working," he leaned down to whisper that into your ear.

Before you can respond he lets go and walks away, finally turning around to watch him leave. What is his problem?

You ordered your food, which was tteokbokki and kimbap.

Throughout your lunch you keep thinking about what had happened with Heeseung, did he do it on purpose? There's no way he was just coincidentally there right?

Whatever his reasoning was, you didn't care, he was trying to get to you.

When you finished your lunch you didn't know what else to do today so instead you figured you'd at least hang out with your friends so you took out your phone.

────୨ৎ────

It didn't take long for you all to agree on the mall, and you're currently waiting for the others to arrive. You and Giselle had gone together since you're roommates so you were just waiting for Karina, Yujin, and Moka. Minnie wasn't able to make it since she had a test to study for.

A little while longer the other three finally arrived, the five of you walking through the mall and looking through various stores.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to buy more clothes to fuck with Heeseung. The clothes you were buying were either the slightest bit too small, making them tight so they cling to your curves, or showed some sort of skin, some a lot, some just enough that would make him crazy.

You see, one thing about Heeseung is while you two were dating he was such a sweetheart when you two were in public, but as soon as you got home is when his possessive side would show. He'd recount all the times a man looked at you a bit too much or too closely and he'd fuck your brains out.

That was one of your favorite things, how good he'd fuck you when you wore crop tops, skirts, shorts, or tank tops. He didn't control what you'd wear, he let you do whatever, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wear revealing clothes in public on purpose cause you were horny for him to fuck you at home.

Any other time he was a sweetheart, he was perfect, he wouldn't hurt a fly but when you had sex that all went out the window.

Now, however, you're buying revealing clothes to piss him off, to make him break, to get revenge, to make him beg for mercy.

You felt as if this revenge plan was a bit bland, but you couldn't think of anything else but to just drive him insane.

You and the girls had a lot of fun, and got told to shut up a few times from laughing too loud... but at least you have had fun.

It was 8 PM by the time you and Giselle made it back to the dorms. You made it just in time for curfew so you wouldn't get in trouble. You'd always thought it was stupid for a university to give adults a curfew, but it was pretty influential so you guess the university just didn't want its reputation ruined by their students dropping out to take care of babies.

Curfew didn't do anything anyway, you just couldn't leave your specific dorm building after 8:30 PM, you didn't know what would happen if you did it anyway but you honestly didn't care enough to find out.

────୨ৎ────

That morning when you woke up you immediately thought about what to wear to make Heeseung jealous, to make him mad.

You reached over and grabbed your phone and opened Instagram in order to check Heeseungs story, of course, he has a new one. You tap on it and see a video, clearly taken by a friend of his and it's him, with a new girl—because of course it is who fucking else could it be—the video was Heeseung and his new girl, who you identified as Julie Han. She was in your dance group, and she was really good and she's really pretty. You've always admired her beauty, but also felt a bit insecure. You wanted to be like her so badly. Heeseung didn't know that, or maybe he did considering you two broke up before you even had the chance to meet your classmates.

Seeing this rubbed even more salt into the wound, the girl you'd admired, and wanted to be friends with, and that made you feel insecure. Obviously it wasn't her fault you were insecure, she was super nice to you, and she didn't say anything to make you insecure it was just all in your head.

Seeing the video of him with Julie, he had his arm around her, and they were clearly flirting. It made your blood boil, but at the same time made your eyes water. You didn't know if you should be angry, or if you should cry.

You didn't know if it was on purpose, or if he was just doing his usual girl-to-girl shit. If he did know then he was a complete asshole for using her against you.

The truth is, he did know.

Yesterday, when you were walking to the cafeteria for lunch, you were recording a voice message to send to your friends. You had run into Julie while leaving the studio. That reminded you that you hadn't even told your friends about her so that's why you were recording a voice message.

Heeseung was with you, well not with you, rather.. behind you. He was walking with his friends, and he hadn't even realized it was you until you started speaking. He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping and when he heard what you said about Julie, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted you back, desperately, he knew you wouldn't easily accept him back into your life so he decided to try and make you desperate, just as much as he is. He used Julie, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible so you crawl back to him. When he saw your first story with the subtle jab at him and the cleavage he knew you were trying to clap back at him, you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd be a liar if he said it wasn't working because it was. He hated that you had posted that, that you were revealing yourself to others. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he needed you back.

After you had seen the story of Julie and Heeseung you knew you had to strike again. You got out of bed and went to your closet grabbing one of the bags of new clothes you'd gotten yesterday. After dumping the clothes on your bed you finally picked out an outfit you knew would rile him up. It was a pair of white shorts, with a dark blue top. The top was pretty much a bralette, it's not something you'd wear out, but you bought it for the purpose of making Heeseung jealous—also in case you decided to go to the bar or another party—you went to your bathroom to do your hair and makeup before taking the photo.

After you finished those you posed in front of your mirror with your phone in hand. You tried doing poses that would show off your ass or would maximize the amount of skin you show in the picture.

Finally, after about 5-10 minutes you got the perfect shot, and you went straight to Instagram to post it.

With a small filter added, all you had to do was add the caption, but what should you even put? You had no clue honestly, you weren't as witty as you had originally thought.

Maybe posting it without a witty caption would be better, making less noise will create more noise.

So that's exactly what you did. You uploaded the photo to your story and waited. Waited for Heeseung to see it., until he did.

Heeseung went onto Instagram after he hung out with his friends, plus Julie, and he saw that you had posted on your story. He clicked on it and what he saw was something he expected, but also didn't. He hated that you were posting shit like this. He couldn't take it anymore, he slid up and started typing out a reply to your story.

It was about three hours after you had posted it when you got a notification while you were scrolling through tik tok.

'heeseung.lhs69 replied to your story: Y/N can you knock this off?'

Seeing the notification shocked you, first off why does he have '69' in his username? Is he serious? Since when did he have 7th-grade boy humor? It was probably the fault of his dumbass friends.

You didn't really know how to reply to him, but what matters is your plan worked. He fell for your bait finally.

you: what're you talking abt ?

hee: you know what I'm talking abt y/n

you: no i don't think i do heeseung

hee: we should talk in person y/n

you: ykw fine when and where

hee: ice cream place where we had our first date, 6 pm, today

you: k i'll see you then ig

Although it didn't seem like it, you were really nervous. He seemed serious even if it was just over text. It was only 4:30, so you had about an hour and thirty minutes to get ready or contemplate your choices, probably both.

You started getting ready, you didn't know how to dress really. You went for simple baggy jeans, a grey tank top, and a zip-up sweater. It was now 5:30, and so you left your dorm and started walking to said ice cream place.

After entering you saw him.. he was sitting at a booth. He looked quite nervous actually which is a big contrast to how you've been seeing him for two and a half years.

You slid into the seat in front of him and he immediately looked up from the table to look at you. "Hey," his voice was soft and gentle. You looked into his eyes, his soft, big doe eyes.. Looking into his eyes was your favorite activity when you were together, they were so beautiful. "Hey," you replied, also in a soft and gentle tone.

"I think we have to talk Y/N, I just want to explain myself," you let out a sigh knowing that he's right, you do have to talk. How could he leave you like that? "Explain it to me Heeseung, explain to me why you left me like the way you did," he was immediately saddened when you raised your voice a little at him.

"Y/N, I'll explain.. Please just calm down. I don't have a good reason.. Jake, my roommate, well we were talking and he told me about all the girls he's been with, and he asked me about how many girls he and I told him we've been together for five years and he started laughing. He then told me he was gonna invite a couple of friends, which he did," you didn't interrupt him the whole time. You just listened as he continued to talk.

"When they came over, it was four of them, Jake told them what I said about you and then they all started going on about how I'm too young to be tied down like that, I should live a little. I originally shot it down but they started giving me alcohol. The more they talked about the benefits of being single, and the more they talked about all the fun they have I started to believe them. I felt as though I was tying you down, I was a burden, that you'd be better off without me," you didn't know if you should be pissed off or pity him, he was influenced by his 'friends.'

"I started to believe what they were telling me, and they were telling me I should just let you go because you're probably getting bored. I was scared of the future, I was scared you'd break it off cause you were bored, and so I broke up with you first. I started doing all the things they did, hookup, smoke, drink, party and I did it all to move on from you," his story was making sense, that's 100% something his friends would do but you were still pissed at him.

"That doesn't explain to me why you didn't just think to talk to me and express your feelings to me. We could've talked this out, but you didn't even bother to text me," he sighed knowing you were right, and he didn't even have an excuse.

"I don't have an excuse, I'm an idiot Y/N. I love you so much and I wasn't thinking, they manipulated me, and I believed it all.. It was selfish of me and I know what I did was wrong. I hurt you and I'm just realizing it. It took me this long to realize how much of an asshole I was, my actions weren't okay," he looked back down at the table like he was in shame.

"Why would you post girls in your story though? I know it was to make me jealous, your story makes sense but that part doesn't add up," honestly you believed his story. He's always been quite gullible and pliable. Obviously, you never used that as an advantage, you'd never take advantage of him.

"Well... I wanted you back but I didn't know how to contact you.. How to communicate it, how to get through to you. When you posted that on your story earlier I couldn't hold back. I know you've been using Giselle's account to view my story, and that's not exactly relevant, but I've been doing it cause I miss you, and I want you. My new persona, it's all fake. I don't like doing this stuff. I just wanted to fit in and forget about you, I was depressed and vulnerable when Jake started doing what he was doing. I love you, I miss you, I want you, and I don't have any good excuses."

He's right, his excuse isn't exactly good, he knows he fucked up, and did you wrong. He had no actual good excuse, he had no actual reason for the thing with the girls.

"You should've just talked to me Heeseung," you were disappointed in him, and you resented him. "I know Y/N, I'm an idiot, and I made a selfish, vulnerable mistake. Please, I want you to forgive me, I want to be with you again, I want to be with you forever," those last few words were kind of shocking to you. Did he mean that? You both had discussed marriage and the future briefly and that ended in a big argument so it was never brought up again.

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying I see a future with you, and I know we had a huge fight about the future which also led to our break up, but I'm serious. I want you back. Please," he didn't stutter, not one bit and that solidified his point. He was serious.

"Okay, but you still hurt me, you still did all these bad things that made you an asshole. I can't just forget what you did to me," he was so, so desperate for you, so desperate to get you back to him. "Please."

He kept repeating himself,

"Please Y/N,"

"Please,"

It was almost pathetic how he was begging, how he was so desperate, but at the same time, it was so sexy. You had never seen him beg you before, he'd always been the top. You looked into his eyes, and he was staring right back at you waiting for a response.

It was difficult, you didn't know if you should forgive him, after all, he happened to fall in with the wrong crowd, he was manipulated, he was molded.

"Heeseung, you still fucked me over, you still ruined me, and broke my heart. Don't you know how hard this is?" he nodded, he knew you'd be hesitant. He never expected you to give in immediately and he knew he would have to convince you. However, there was one detail he left out, one that would change everything.

"Y/N, there was a detail I left out, and it seems that you completely forgot that you also played a part in this. You're not completely innocent," you were confused, how could that even be?

"When Jake was giving me alcohol and convincing me of all these things, I texted you, I needed you, I needed your support in that moment, and I know you weren't busy either. You ignored me, ignored me when I needed you most. That, plus all the manipulation, it broke me, it made me send that text, made me spiral into who I am now," holy shit. He was right.

Nearly three years ago, two days before your first day as a college freshman, you were decorating your dorm. You and Giselle went shopping for decorations and you weren't busy at all that whole day which Heeseung knew.

You had seen the notifications coming in, you read them and you didn't reply. You remember the texts, you remember it all.

'y/n i need you rn'

'babe pls reply'

'i need you please im serious y/n pls respond'

You were so caught up in your dorm decorations, and shopping you ignored Heeseung when he needed you the most, when he needed you to save him.

You weren't busy, you just simply didn't reply.

It was partly your fault.

"Heeseung.." now it was your turn to beg, to ask for forgiveness, and it didn't feel very good. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I saw the texts and I just ignored them, and I don't know why. You needed me, you needed help, and I wasn't there.. Holy shit," you wanted to reach for his hand, to hold him, but you knew you didn't have the right to.

"Y/N, I needed you, I really did, and you weren't there. We both fucked up, we both contributed to the end of our relationship. What matters is that I realized what was happening, that I changed for the worst, and that I realized that they had manipulated me, and peer pressured me. We both messed it up, and I want to fix it, please," his words resonated with you and he was absolutely correct. You both fucked up.

"What do we do? Do you mean you want to get back together?" you were hoping he would say yes, you did want to get back with him, I mean that was literally the whole goal.

"Yes, I want you to be mine again, I still love you, I never stopped," you immediately nodded in response telling him you also wanted to be back together.

"I missed you, babe," the nickname had always made your heart flutter but hearing it after all these years that's not in the context of a one-night stand made your cheeks heat up.

It felt like your first date all over again, you're even in the same place, a second first date.

"Let's go back to my dorm, Jake isn't there, and he won't return till like the afternoon tomorrow," you nodded and got up. He grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the ice cream shop and back towards campus.

After you arrived at his dorm he couldn't hold himself back and immediately crashed his lips to yours. You instantly started kissing him back. It felt more real this time, it was filled with love, passion, and longing.

You felt your back hit the wall as his hands grabbed onto your hips, and your fingers got lost in his hair.

He broke away from the kiss before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You've been driving me insane, you know, with those revealing photos of yours. Especially the one of your cleavage. I missed your tits so bad baby," his hands grab your clothed tits. You can feel him reach behind your back and make quick work of the clasp he was clearly skilled.

When he got it off you could feel his mouth attach to one of your nipples. You let out a small moan which just egged him on. "Hee— please," he let go of your nipple and looked into your eyes, but that didn't last long because he immediately started kissing your neck, and biting it gently while he unbuttoned your jean shorts.

"Shit I missed this so fucking much Y/N," you clenched around nothing at his words, you could feel that your underwear was ruined, and how drenched they were, and so could he.

Once he got your shorts off he threw them somewhere in the room, it didn't even matter. You felt his hands trace your underwear and touched your clothed pussy. He let out a groan at the feeling of how wet you were, "holy shit Y/N, you're so fucking wet already," he took your hand dragging you to his bed. He debated doing it on Jake's bed for revenge, but he didn't want any more problems or misunderstandings, he just wanted you.

Now you were lying on his bed with him hovering above you. This time it felt more real, it felt more passionate rather than when you were drunk and stupid.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulled it off, and when he did you got shy and tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He gripped your thighs and pulled them apart again giving him a view of your bare, dripping pussy. The look of pure hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

He ran one of his hands down your thigh, then to your inner thigh, and finally reached your core. He ran a finger through your folds teasing your entrance. You were so desperate you couldn't help but moan.

The wetness of your cunt made him groan, and his pants tighten. He stuck one finger in, and then a second. The intrusion made you moan and squirm, but that only made him smirk.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you slightly curling them to hit that spot that makes you scream.

"Fuck— Right there Heeseung!" You moan out.

"Yeah? You like that baby?" He chuckled a little, and the smirk on his face grew.

He continued to move his fingers and started going even faster. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten and you knew what was coming. "Heeseung.. Shit," he nodded slowly and spoke "Come on, cum on my fingers baby," his words made you clench around his fingers before you finally reached your limit with a moan loud enough you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear.

Both yours and his breathing were fast and heavy. He was still hovering above you while he looked at your face which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Can you take my cock, or are you completely spent?" He asked the question in a soft tone not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you.

"I need your cock Heeseung," the softness in his eyes instantly left now replaced with a look of desire, and lust. "Then that's exactly what you're gonna get baby," he started removing his clothing starting with his shirt, then his belt, his pants, and finally his boxers.

When he took his boxers off you couldn't stop staring at his dick. The thick, long, veiny shaft was one you had missed in these past years. "I can see you staring my love," you couldn't even stop yourself and you just kept staring.

He gave himself a couple of pumps spreading the precum along his shaft. He then lined himself up with your entrance, he hesitated for a moment looking at you, "Do you want it rough, or slow?"

"Please give it to me rough," he didn't give you a second to think before he pushed inside of you quickly, and immediately bottomed out.

"Fuck!" You moaned out at the feeling of the stretch of your hole from his cock.

He grabbed your thighs tightly allowing him to thrust into you more efficiently. You felt him hit your G-spot every time he moved in and out. You felt your climax approaching and you bucked your hips as he groaned feeling you clench around him.

You finally went over the edge and came onto his cock, while you felt him release into you. His thrusts slowed to help you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulled out, making you whine at the empty feeling.

He kissed your lips before lying down next to you. You turned to look at him and you stared into each other's eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Goodnight my love, I missed you so much. I won't fuck this up."

You were going to respond but the exhaustion caught up to you and you fell asleep in his arms, for the first time in years as his girlfriend.

TAGLIST : @clandestineself @kittympirty @azzy02 @wemalyri @jayhoonvroom @hwangswife4

[whenthewallfell]

Some of the supporting cast of the thg/rdr mashup! I was gonna wait until the proper portraits were done but got too impatient haha

(deets below the cut)

Haymitch Abernathy

Not much is known about who he was before coming to New Hanover - his youth, his family, and his name are all things he refuses to talk about. What is known is that he spent some time as a migrant worker, travelling the states until he eventually came into the employ of government official Coriolanus Snow as a gun-for-hire. Snow later granted him a homestead in Cumberland Forest, in what would become a precursor to the General Allotment Act.

Despite the close proximity and occasional trades with the Wapiti tribe, Haymitch rebuffs all offers of community, preferring to spend his days in solitude. Recently, however, Katniss has strongarmed her way into his life, using his house as a base of operations whether he wants her to or not.

Johanna Yau

Yau Qiuyue was born and raised in West Elizabeth to a railroad worker and his wife, until the Chinatown they lived in was burned down by locals. Qiuyue was one of the few survivors, taken to be sold to a brothel; the men were found dead a few days later with a hatchet buried so deep in one man's skull they couldn't pull it out. She reappeared travelling under the name Johanna Yau with a bounty hunter, Haymitch Abernathy, who took her under his wing and taught her how to handle firearms.

These days she's something of a local legend - a vigilante who wipes out gangs and deals brutal justice to those who target immigrant workers. Known as The Dragoness of West Elizabeth, she is sometimes accompanied by the woman journalist Cressida Mason, who chronicles (and embellishes) her deeds. They make for an odd couple, preferring each other's company to that of any hopeful suitors.

Euphemia Trinket

A somewhat naïve secretary of Snow's who was tasked with monitoring his investment in the new allotment project, Euphemia is required to make fortnightly checkups and send reports on Haymitch's progress with the homestead. The position, while offering more freedom and independence than she might find otherwise, is not without its downsides - the fashion and culture of New Hanover is severely lacking in her eyes, and she misses the hustle and bustle of Blackwater.

Originally, Effie believed that what they were doing was essential to the betterment of their native neighbours and their introduction into Civilised Society, but she is beginning to have doubts after seeing the true extent of Haymitch's depression and the living conditions on the nearby reservation.

Primrose

Sister and polar opposite to Katniss, Primrose is a sweet girl with a sunny disposition, growing into a fine healer under the tutelage of her mother. She's also an accomplished sewist who is fascinated by 'modern' fashion, and enjoys blending outside and Wapiti influences into her own clothing whenever she can. She sometimes offers to work on Effie's as well in exchange for fashion plates and fabrics from the city.

Despite her gentle manner, however, Prim is deeply stubborn and fiercely devoted to her tribe and family. She thinks Katniss' idea of shipping her off to some random faraway city is the stupidest thing she's ever heard, and isn't afraid to fight her sister every step of the way.

[skellseerwriting]

5 Times Iida Thinks You’re a Boy and 1 Time He Finally Realizes

Oblivious!Iida x Fem!Androgynous!Reader

Part 4: Date

Part 3

Word Count: 800+

Content & Warnings: rejection, slight angst (there’ll be a happy ending but not in this chapter), Iida and reader both make presumptions about each other

Summary: You’re at the library with Mina, and she convinces you to do something

“I’m telling you, that’s what he said!” Mina squealed, jumping up and down behind you with her hands on your shoulders. Sighing for more than one reason, you shushed her to keep her voice down as you continued to browse the library shelf.

“That doesn’t mean he’d want to go on a date with me.” You said, a little disgruntled. With Mina as your best friend, peace and quiet was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You wouldn’t have it any other way though, of course.

“Yeah but he said he likes intelligent girls who hold respect for rules and authority. That’s basically you in a nutshell!”

Hissing out another “shh!” Before the librarian could chase you down, you randomly pulled a book out and went to a nearby table. Sitting down, you opened the novel right up against your nose and did your best to ignore her. In truth, the words sparked a bit of hope within your chest, but the fear of it all crashing down scared you more than anything else.

“Come on.” She whispered to your left, sticking her nose between the edge of your book and your face. “There’s a good chance he might say ‘yes’.”

You slammed the book closed. Mina jumped back to avoid her face getting clipped. “Or he might say ‘no’.” You divulged to her your fear. It slipped through the syllables and conveyed exactly what you didn’t want to risk happening.

Placing a friendly hand down on your arm, she smiled warmly at you. Like always, she emitted guidance and trust. “And would that really be so bad?” She asked you in a heartfelt manner. It made you think.

Dipping your head, you let out a weak “no”.

“Great.” Her voice sounded solid. “Because now’s your chance.”

“What?” You shot your head back up, but it was too late. Mina had already zoomed out of her seat and away from your sight. Immediately, you understood what she meant. To your right, where you had just been before, browsing the same shelf on the same row, was Iida.

Sweat dotted your brow, and before you knew it, you stood up to make your way over to him.

“Oh, hey Iida.” You greeted, moving to slot your book back into its spot (which just so happened to conveniently be a foot away from him).

“Good afternoon.” He responded, smiling upon seeing you. The brief nervousness you had felt a moment ago seeped out of your body. Mina’s words coursed through you. She was right.

You could do this.

“Are you looking for something to read in your spare time?” You asked coolly. It would be easier to build up to talking with him about a shared interest. You liked books, he liked books, what’s not to like?

You, apparently. Or at least, that’s what you feared.

“Yes.” He confirmed. “I’m trying to find a piece of classic literature, but the author’s name appears to be evading me on this shelf.”

Following along with his finger as it reached where you were standing, you took a step back and pulled out the book you had just put back in. “It wouldn’t happen to be this one would it?”

His face lit up. “Marvelous!” He exclaimed. “I had no idea you were also into classic novels of this manner.”

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. Yes, you had randomly taken it out of the shelf, however, you had already read that book before. Multiple times, in fact.

“Yeah,” you told him. “It’s among my favorites.”

Iida leaned farther into your space. “If you like this one, perhaps you’ll enjoy some similar classic literature I have in my own personal collection of books.”

“I’d love that.” You gushed, then, saw the conversational opportunity and took it. “I would also love it,” you tried not to hesitate and just get the words out. “If we could go out on a date.”

You held your breath.

Iida’s mouth stayed partially open for several seconds. Then, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. His eyes evaded yours and his cheeks turned pink. Despite his best effort to be vocally clear, he stuttered out his response. “I- I don’t-“ he vaguely gestured to all of you. “I’m not really into…”

Your eyes widened, quickly catching onto what he was saying. “Oh, I’m sorry for assuming. My bad.”

“No no,” he shook his head, still not looking at you. “It’s okay.”

“It’s alright.” You reiterated.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Now you were both standing there awkwardly. Another beat passed.

“Well.” You clicked your tongue. “I gotta go…”

“Right!” He said, arms stiff at his sides. “I shall see you in class.”

You did your best not to look at him forlornly as you quickly passed by. While attempting to exit the library, Mina intercepted you.

“What happened?” She asked gently, noticing the way you looked upset.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said in hushed tones. She let you slip by her and through the door. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t do that to Iida. If she asked again, you would just say that he rejected you. And that was true, right? Regardless of the reason.

He had rejected you.

Tagist: Tenya Iida

@electronicexpertshark @ragdol-666

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Stretched (Part 1)

aka a filthy rolan x cleric postgame concept that I might write one day but in the meantime desperately want to get out of my brain and onto the page. EDIT: HAHAHAHA never mind, I wrote it. fuck me. Here you are, 1324 words and only part one!

ft fingering, “do assholes really work like that? we ignore it for kink reasons” and the BG3 equivalent of medical kink. Mild dubcon for "Rolan's having a great time but a healer shouldn't be enjoying fingering your asshole this much"

Rolan’s settled into the Tower; theoretically he has everything he wants. Apart from Tav, that is; he nursed a sore crush on them for a long time— ever since they saved his siblings— and has only just come to accept that they’re never coming back from Waterdeep. (… Several months after their wedding to Gale). Tav’s presence, however, awoke a very long-neglected (and repressed) part of him, and now though he thinks less often of them when he handles himself… he still handles himself often. Could it be the Archmage still needs something in his life beyond the Tower and his siblings?

He finds it, with some shame, behind the counter at Sharess's Caress. In disguise, of course; he doesn't want the city to know he's buying toys... especially not toys of this size. Rolan doesn't start with the largest ones, but as his hopes of Tav grow fainter, he finds himself seeking more and more challenge, more punishment for his aching, gaping hole. He loves to imagine them stretching him, taunting him for pining over them - claiming him as their own. And now that's receding, he still finds himself addicted to the sensation, barely able to come unless he's struggling on a cock far thicker than his own.

The figure that the cleric sees, coming through her door, is stiff with embarrassment, a violently crimson flush revealed on his cheeks as he casts off his Dragonborn disguise to show the tiefling underneath. Not just any tiefling.

‘Archmage,’ she says in recognition, keeping the note of amusement she feels hidden. She’s a professional, after all… although whatever ailment he has come to her with must be rather delicate, especially when his title makes him flush further and insist on being called by his name only. After a fair amount of evasion, and the confirmation that she is as discreet as every one of her previous clients has said, she at last pries out his problem: he fears he has stretched himself.

‘Using what implements? What are the symptoms?’

‘What other symptoms do you need?’ he hisses, before catching himself. ‘I know how it is supposed to feel.’

‘Is this immediately after use of toys, or…?’

‘I am not an idiot— I know to expect it after—but this feeling persists near-constantly.’ His voice drops, and she sees the true mortification and worry behind his bluster. It’s… more than professionally interesting. Poor man. She will make his embarrassment worthwhile.

‘Remove your trousers, and get on the bench. I need to examine the situation.'

He casts an anxious look at the door before he disrobes, and she asks if he'd like it locked; his shoulders drop a little when it is.

'Have you cleaned up, or should I—'

Rolan conjures a Prestidigitation faster than she can finish the sentence.

'Do not misunderstand,' he disclaims. 'I came prepared— I am merely being cautious—'

She can hear the irritable sound of him swallowing his nerves, and pats his bare ass gently. There's a slight hitch in Rolan's breath.

'Don't worry about it. Now.' She takes the base of his tail in his hand, and he draws another sharp intake of breath. If she had to label his affliction as anything, she would be inclined to say it was starvation. He is so hungry for her touch, that the slightest movement makes him shiver... and between his legs, his cock is beginning to stiffen.

Rolan clenches his thighs as she moves his robe out of the way, drawing his tail up so she can get a good look at his hole.

'Are you wearing this every day?' she asks, tapping the plug in his entrance.

It is rather basic, compared to the rest of him. His hair is beautifully twisted, and his elegant silk robes are drenched in expensive silverwork. But the plug is plain; not a jewel or crest in sight. Perhaps he is too ashamed of this hobby to let himself truly indulge in it. (A shame in itself, when the plug sits so prettily between his lovely, pert cheeks).

'Yes,' he admits.

'Mmm.'

'I have to!' he protests irritably. 'Otherwise, I can think of nothing else but the sensation of it. Being open—'

'I understand,' she says soothingly. 'I'll have to remove it for now.'

'Of course,' Rolan whispers, tensing his thighs even harder.

She puts a hand on one. 'Relax. Otherwise this will be more difficult.'

He lets out a choked whimper— but he does as he's told, and he keeps relaxing, with the utmost effort, until the plug is drawn from his hole.

There's no denying he's hard now. The cleric oils her fingers, presses one easily inside to begin the examination.

'One easy,' she murmurs, pushing it further up until she finds his pleasure spot. It feels healthy; in fine working order, if Rolan's gasp is anything to go by. She curls her finger a little more.

'Fuck!' Rolan whimpers. 'I mean— Zurgan— excuse me.'

‘Don’t worry about it. Just stay relaxed. I’m going to see how easily you accommodate wider objects.’

She presses another finger in, appreciating the heat inside him. Tieflings always run hotter than other humanoids. The lack of hair is very pleasing too— perfect for someone as neat and ordered as Rolan clearly is. The oil slicked on her fingers spills down his taint; she pauses for a moment, and takes a washcloth to wipe him clean.

Rolan’s asshole might be a little stretched, but she still feels it tense urgently around her. He lets out a short whimper, stifling it unsuccessfully with a cough.

‘Keep your tail up,’ she murmurs, as if she hasn’t noticed.

‘Yes— ’

Three fingers. Rolan shakes. She didn’t encounter much resistance, but clearly the act of being probed is rather stimulating for him, stretch or not.

‘Let me see.’ She gathers all four fingers, pressing them against his entrance— now, there is a little resistance— and checks to see how Rolan is taking it.

The moment he realises she’s looking at him, his cock twitches, and he panics, pulling away from her examining fingers.

‘Surely that’s enough,’ he gasps, dragging at the tails of his robe to hide his cock.

‘I need to determine the extent of the problem, if you want me to treat it properly.’

His tail flicks as he looks back at her. ‘Wretched Hells. Just how much are you going to put up there?’

The attempt at nonchalance comes out thin, breathy instead of confident. She can’t help but find him a little fascinating; easily embarrassed and yet pretending to be bold. And all over something so mild; she has treated people with far stranger ailments. Once again, she wonders if he perhaps only needs somebody else to make him feel that this is alright. Not that it matters at the present.

‘I’m going to find your limit,’ she says. ‘When it hurts, say now.’

Rolan pauses, and cedes, raising his tail once more to reveal his worked hole. His claws curl anxiously into the bench leather. ‘I am ready— ah— ah— ah— now!’

All four fingers and thumb, but not even close to the knuckle. Whatever monstrous girths he thinks he’s been stretching himself with, she is sure he could take quite a lot more— with practise and encouragement of course.

‘That’s the examination finished then,’ she tells him. ‘Let me clean you up.’

Again, she presses a gentle cloth to his skin— all the way down to his balls this time. He shivers, whimpering at her touch and not even trying to hide it this time. Too far gone, perhaps.

She notices a drip from his cock beneath him on the bench, and cleans that up too. Not the cock that it came from, though; that is his concern, even if he seems to anticipate it when she reaches beneath him.

‘Now,’ she murmurs, washing her hands off. ‘I’ll just consult my notes, and make you up a treatment salve.’

‘It is curable?’ Rolan asks.

‘Oh, certainly. I’ll explain what you have to do.’

[chthonic-cassandra]

hello friend! i have been trawling through your goodreads shelves as i so frequently do, but i have a specific request for recs that i think you might have some answers for and thought i'd go to the source: do you have any book recs for nonfiction about ancient religion?

I do indeed and am glad you asked! I only feel really qualified to recommend books on Ancient Greek religion specifically, but on that topic I have quite a lot:

More general/foundational

foundational to the field at the turn of the century and very important context for the framing of subsequent conversations about Ancient Greek religion is Jane Ellen Harrison. You may want to read more modern things first/instead, but her Themis: A Study of the Social Origins of Greek Religion is sort of where it all begins

Karl Kerenyi is also quite an important voice in the field, and though there are places where his scholarship is notably dubious I think there are things to be gained from his work. Probably try The Religion of the Greeks and Romans

Sarah Iles Johnson has done a bunch of accessible, solidly useful scholarship on ancient religion more broadly, and I think might actually be a realistically good place to start, though her work doesn't feel as intellectually exciting to me personally as a number of other things on this list. Her edited essay collection straightforwardly titled Ancient Religions may give you a lot of what you're looking for.

Yulia Ustinova is another contemporary scholar who has done a bunch of really solidly useful but not stunningly intellectually innovative work in this field. Divine Mania does some useful multidisciplinary stuff.

Roberto Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony - this is really a book about mythology and not religious practice, but I mostly just want people to read it.

Marcel Detienne & Jean-Pierre Vernant, The Cuisine of Sacrifice Among the Greeks - I had mixed feelings on this, but it's quite important in the field and probably the Detienne & Vernant mostly concretely focused on religious practice

More specific and fun

Joan Breton Connelly, Portrait of a Priestess: Women and Ritual in Ancient Greece - my younger self was so very excited about the release of this book. It's not the most substantive work, but it has a special place in my heart

Barbara Goff, Citizen Bacchae: Women's Ritual Practice in Ancient Greece

Giulia Sissa, Greek Virginity - this is a history of sexuality book rather than a history of religion proper, but of course it's a lot about religion and also I had roughly a dozen revelations about things while reading it

there should be some Nicole Loraux on this list but I'm not sure which. Maybe Born from the Earth: Myth and Politics in Athens, which is useful particularly on the way the political and the religious were entwined, though you in particular I think should read The Experiences of Tiresias

Bonnie MacLachan, The Age of Grace: Charis in Early Greek Poetry - this isn't really so relevant to your question and is only useful after doing some exploration of the lyric poets first, but I love it and really can't help but recommend it

Georgia Petridou, Divine Epiphany in Greek Literature and Culture - same as above; this is more a literary study, but I just personally loved it

Andrej Petrovic & Ivana Petrovic, Inner Purity and Pollution in Greek Religion

Alan Sommerstein & Isabelle Torrance, Oaths and Swearing in Ancient Greece

Kathy Gaca, The Making of Fornication: Eros, Ethics, and Political Reform in Greek Philosophy and Early Christianity - I think you in particular should read this

I have other more specific recommendations on particular deities and religious centers, but those tend to be drier and this list is long enough. I hope you enjoy this exploration!

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: En Avant

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff.

Word Count: 5.2k

Author's Note: The first chapter is finally here!! I'm very excited to bring this new series to you. It's what I've been thinking about for a few months now. It came to me while I was still working on A Languor Spell, and now I can give it my full attention. Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy the first chapter!

P/S: This is my first time writing in present tense, so if there's any mistake please let me know so I can fix it!

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional ballet dancer. I'm an adult beginner, and I've been taking classes consistently for over a year now. I just want to say that the series isn't written with the experience of a professional ballerina, but with my love for the art and the extensive research that I've done and will continue to do. I don't choose to write the Reader as a ballerina because of the aesthetic, but because I think there are so many things to explore in the original story that I've come up with, with the Reader being in the industry.

GIF Source: @/petertingle-yipyip

There has always been an emptiness residing within the frame of your body. In the absence of your old life, it has grown expeditiously. It carves into your body and makes a home in the forefront of your mind. On worse days, you feel as if anyone can see at first glance, how incomplete of a person you are. On better days, like today, you can hide it well, even from your closest friend. But right now, sitting in a dimly lit bar across from the friend you have known since you moved to this city at 18, you feel the person you're supposed to be has taken your anatomy apart. You're disembodied, scattered, and fractional.

Jo notices your silence and reaches over the table, laying her hand atop yours.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

Jo’s proposal. How can you not think about it? It has never left your mind ever since she mentioned it. Her newly acquired gym could be a place for you to get back to dancing in complete privacy. And you won’t have to pay a dime.

“I spruced up the place a little bit and will be adding more equipment. I can get whatever you need so it can be a proper space for you to practice.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Jo casts a sympathetic look at you, her voice careful.

“How’s your foot?”

You flex and point the right foot under the table, recalling the phantom pain that was your consistent companion for the most part of last year.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Are you still seeing Amy?”

“Of course. She’d bite my head off if I missed our appointment.”

You share a knowing chuckle, knowing Amy's personality. You know her through Jo, and they dated briefly in college. The two stayed friends afterward. After leaving Lady Liberty Ballet Theatre, your physical health was left to your own management. Your gaps of knowledge were filled in by Amy, a physical therapist who stepped in and offered her help voluntarily when Jo mentioned your situation. You still meet biweekly at her practice in Harlem, and the three of you hang out from time to time.

“Come to my gym.”

She hastily continues once she sees the decline perches on your pressed lips.

“It’s free.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. You’ll have to get a barre, and the flooring might not be suitable–“

“I don’t care about the cost. I just want to do this for you. Let someone do a nice thing for you every once in a while.”

You meet her eyes, resisting her act of kindness with silence. You know how to pick your battles, and this is the one you have lost from the start, judging by Jo's stern gaze. You sigh.

“I’ll think about it.”

A victory smile graces her lips.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Jo leans into the table, her hand reaching for yours.

“I want to see you dance on the stage again. You’re a beautiful ballerina, and I know this is not the end for you.”

You know she means well, but her words feel like claws, sinking their sharp ends into your heart. You haven't danced since the injury, and a part of you knows that you might never dance as well as you once did. The best version of you had lived that life to its fullest potential, the life of endless classes and rehearsals, soldout shows, ending many nights and seasons to the deafening cheers from the audience. Your current self is only a shadow, living a partial existence and mourning the past as time passes and your grasp on it weakens.

You want the endless optimism Jo seems to possess. She’s always so assertive in everything she does. From her university days pursuing a bachelor's degree in sports science to her boxing competition days to buying a gym, she has a sense of self-assurance that carries her throughout the years you've known her ever since you became roommates when you first moved to New York. And you admire that about her endlessly. Her goals might vary, but her passion for them never wavers. Her faith in you seems to share the same sentiment.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, hoping your face doesn't betray your true thoughts. Jo squeezes your hand and lets go. She checks her wristwatch, and with a silent glance, you understand that she has to leave. Jo meets you as you stand up from your side of the booth, drawing you into a crushing hug.

“Will you be okay here?”

She pulls back. You smile and pat her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. Just want to finish my drink.”

She takes a step backward as she waves.

“Good luck tomorrow!”

You raise your hand in response and watch her tall and brawny frame vanish through the door. You drop your arm, but you don't sit down. Taking a discreet glance at the bar, your heart rate spikes ever so slightly at the sight of the stranger you noticed earlier when you bought the drinks.

As you waited for your drinks, he came in and settled for a spot at the bar. The lady whose name you learned earlier, Josie, greeted him, asking where his friends were, so you assumed he was a regular. He was good-looking, you admitted before finding yourself staring at him. You averted your gaze, but couldn't help taking in other details. The folded cane rested on the bar top as Josie slid a glass of amber liquid in front of him. The scarred knuckles as he brought it to his lush lips. The suit was pristine for the most part except for the minimal wrinkles from the day's wear and the loosened tie. The red-tinted glasses perched on his pronounced nose, under the tousled sweep of dark hair. The soft smile brightened his handsome face as the other bartender told him something, which you had to tear your eyes away from when Josie placed the drinks in front of you. You thanked her and headed back to your table, feeling a touch of disappointment in your throat.

There is no denying that you want to approach him. But your nerves intervene with all the questions. What if he rejected you? What if he thought you were a creep for approaching him? What if he just wanted to be left alone? He has been sitting by the bar by himself ever since he came in, you notice. You'd ask if you could join him, and possibly buy him a drink if he was up for it. If he said no, that'd be fine. You would respect his wish and leave him alone. You have a feeling you'd regret it if you didn't at least try.

You gulp down your drink for a little liquid courage and make your way over to the bar. Your heart rate accelerates the closer you get to him, but you are determined to get over the little hurdle. You stop within a conversational distance and use your best composed voice.

“Hey, may I join you?”

He turns in his seat and gives you a friendly smile.

“Of course not. Please do.”

The high chair is a comfortable and respectful distance away from his, but still close enough for a private conversation. The stranger has angled his body toward you, and his openness eases the knot in your stomach. At this distance, you can see that he is even more handsome up close. Heat seeps into your cheeks at the full comprehension of his handsomeness up close. The neon signs around help shape the shadows and highlights that are already there in his features. The strong jawline and defined nose blend in harmony with the soft hair and luscious lips. You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his moving lips, and only a brief moment later you realize he has asked for your name.

You tell him and laugh nervously, blaming the lively ambience around you. He humours you with a chuckle of his own and reciprocates.

"Matt. Nice to meet you."

“Nice to meet you.”

He reaches out with a hand, and you grab it. Your heart beats a little faster at the feel of his hand, warm and a little rough. You pull away first, conscious of the coldness of your hand. You eye his almost empty glass.

“Would you like another drink?”

“If that makes you stay with me for the rest of the evening, I’d love one.”

Charming. You allow an amused and breathy chuckle to escape, and order another fill of your drinks. When Josie turns away to make them, Matt asks.

“What are we celebrating tonight?”

You think about it for a moment.

“This is not really a celebration since I haven’t gotten the job yet.”

“When is the interview?”

“It's … tomorrow.”

His brows raise above the glasses.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit. It’s been a while since my last normal job.”

“What were you doing before?”

Josie puts down the drinks in front of you.

“I’m a– I was a ballerina.”

“Was?”

You run a finger over the cool and smooth edge of the glass, taking a moment to tell a stranger about one of your worst shame.

“I haven’t danced professionally in over a year."

“May I ask why?"

The edge of his lips settles into a neutral line. No pity, just a willingness to listen. It is exactly what you need.

“Yes, but it's just … complicated.”

“How so?”

The old life that you once lived feels so out of your grasp now. Besides the occasional flareups, most mornings, you get up with minimal or no degree of soreness or pain, and you fear that signals the end of your life as a ballerina.

Retirement in your late twenties wasn't something you thought of when you were 18, fresh out of high school with an offer letter from Lady Liberty Ballet Theatre. Moving from a small, sylvan town to a big, lively city like New York was a dream come true. You got to live out the life your younger self used to dream about. How wonderful it was. Dancing on the big stage before the bright stage lights in front of the audience. The early classes, late stage calls, costume fittings, and demanding rehearsals leading up to the shows were all worth it. Because when you got to dance, it was just you and the music. Your body knew the techniques, learned the steps and how to master them. You bent music with your carefully crafted movements and turned the piece into your own interpretation. You worked hard on your craft and artistic abilities, and you thought that it paid off with your promotion from corps de ballet to the first soloist assembly after six years.

But for Matt's sake, you don't go into any of that.

“Well … at my old company, the group of highest rank dancers is smaller compared to other companies. It’s a great honour and a big deal to be promoted to principal. Christine was one of them, and she decided to retire. The head artistic director wanted to appoint a first soloist, which is just a step below principal, to take over in her place. I was a soloist, and I thought it was my opportunity since I've been with the company for the longest out of everyone in the group. I also understudied for Christine in many productions, on top of the roles I had to prepare and perform. I pushed myself really hard that season to prove that I could do it. I was in and out of classes, rehearsals, and performances every day for over three months. On the days we had two shows a day, oftentimes I'd have to perform in both so Christine could have a break."

Matt listens intently, following your words with an attentiveness that you find endearing.

“In the final week of Sleeping Beauty, I had this pain along my heel. But I ignored it and pushed through out of fear that they would dismiss me. At that point, they already had a favourite. One of the directors even told me that I should quit while I was ahead and that I should be happy staying as a soloist."

You swallow the lump in your throat and go on.

"I couldn't take my bow that night, because as soon as my part was done and I went behind the stage, I passed out. It turned out I got an Achilles rupture.

“I had the surgery and was in a boot for a while. I was so desperate to show them my dedication and how good I was by going back to the studio just the day after they allowed me to go without the boot. And I made the injury worse. I was admitted for a partial rupture a week later.”

You thought you could do it. Bearing and hiding the pain so you would stand out as the best selection for the new principal dancer. Yet, all of that hard work didn’t matter in the end. It never mattered the moment Claudia Mavis signed a contract with Lady Liberty.

“In the hospital, the head director told me that they would go with Claudia, even though by that point she had been with the company for only one season. One of the people that I was closed with told me that Claudia left her previous company because they wouldn’t promote her. During a physical therapy session, Claudia told me that they offered her the new contract two weeks before my accident. So I never had the chance in the first place.”

You take a long sip of your drink after the story.

"That is very unfair to you. You deserve more than what they gave you."

You shrug.

“Well, it happened. I have learned to accept it a while ago.”

The hurt is still there, albeit more dull. While you want to blame your departure on the circumstances, you know a part of it is for you to bear as well. Matt becomes thoughtful, and you can see the way he considers his question.

“Do you miss it?”

“I … do. Not the toxic culture, but the dancing itself. It’s like a kind of language that I was fluent in. A form of self-expression that I could indulge in.”

“I’m sure when you come back to it, you will still be amazing.”

You don't even try to hide the disbelieving and playful scoff that escapes.

“You're just flattering me.”

There's not a trace of that cocky confidence of a man who thinks he just scores big with a woman because of a throwaway, vague statement he thinks will please her.

“I mean it. I enjoy music and dance performances in a way most can’t. When I really pay attention, I can hear … movements. The rhythm of someone’s feet striking the ground in time with the music when done right is beautiful. The way you talk about ballet shows me how much you truly care for the art. Like you live and breathe it.”

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth in quiet contemplation before answering him.

“I did. It was a big part of my life.”

“It still can be.”

You let out a noncommittal hum.

"We'll see."

You took sips of your respective drinks, allowing the moment to reset itself. But Matt isn't quite done with the questions. You give him the go-ahead.

"Why ballet?"

“I just love the duality of it. We're supposed to look graceful and effortless while our blisters have blisters, our toes are bleeding, our legs are cramping. We have to dance through all of that and much worse. I like the pain sometimes. It means that I’m doing it right.”

“I didn’t peg you for a masochist.”

The quip takes you by surprise, but you quickly recover.

"Huh. I usually don't reveal that information to anyone until I'm ready to sleep with them."

Matt's tongue licks at his bottom lip, amused by your response.

"Maybe we are just that compatible."

Maybe it is the alcohol that makes you a little lightheaded, but the conversation has taken on a flirty turn, and you lean into each other's space, sharing a bashful, quiet laugh.

The person who took the seat next to yours when you were in the middle of your story bumps into you from behind, pushing you further into Matt's space. They apologize, and you tell them it's fine. The bar top has grown a little more crowded with new visitors. You think about what you could do to make some space when Matt reaches out and pulls your chair closer, so close that your knees touch. The contact is minimal, yet insistent, and you can't help the heat that races to your skin and the wild rhythms of your heart. Even your internal self admits that was the hottest thing Matt has done so far.

You clear your thoughts, focusing on the man sitting so much closer to you now.

“I'm so sorry. I feel like I've been talking about myself for the past hour.”

“No, don't stop. I like it. You have a beautiful voice.”

If he kept this going, you would need to check yourself for a fever. You clear your throat.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. My partners and I have our own practice here in Hell's Kitchen.”

“Wow, that's amazing. What do you specialize in?”

“A little bit of everything. We started out representing people who can’t afford the legal service. Pro bono work basically. We still do that, but we have been getting more clients who can pay for our services.”

“Hm. It makes perfect sense. I can see that about you. The good guy.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You know the right questions to ask. You got me talking about myself for … way too long. And your face …”

You trail off. Almost two drinks have worked their magic on your unabashed honesty.

“My face?”

His plush lips lift in a curious smile.

“Yeah, your face. You made me feel … safe and welcome so I could tell my story. Your face stayed neutral when I went on and on about it. No pity or judgment. You looked like you really cared about me, or my case.”

“I do care about you. And for the record, I appreciate every detail you gave me.”

You know that he might say this just to please you, but his earnestness says otherwise.

“Thank you. I needed that. Not many people care about me, especially after my fallout with the company.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It never was.”

Matt puts a hand on yours on the bar top. You stared at his scarred knuckles, your heart beating along the seam of your body with a slight increase in rhythm. Your hand itched to weave itself into his, to lay flat against the warmth of his palm. As if your body has thrown caution to the wind and wants to do just exactly what it wants to, your pointer finger moves involuntarily. He pulls his hand back, an apology on his lips.

“I’m sorry–“

“No, don’t.”

You reach out with the other hand and keep Matt there. You run your thumb over his knuckles as if to soothe him, to tell him that this is okay. You want this. The additional contact exhilarates you, as you haven't felt another’s touch that isn't from Jo or Amy in a long time. Dating has always been the last thing on your mind, especially in the past year. But right here, right now, being with Matt is easy. There is no pressure. No hindrance. Even though you've met only for two hours, Matt has listened to you. He takes a soft and shaky breath, and your eyes follow the way his chest slightly expands.

Your pointer finger traces the raised edges of his scars, and he lets you. The air seems to thin as your pulse drums a frantic beat under your skin.

“Do you beat people up in your client’s honour?”

“Only those who deserve it.”

You chuckle, and you lean into him as if you can't help yourself. The world has gone quiet around you, and the only thing left on your mind is to have his lips on yours. Your voice is only a breath above a whisper, and you're afraid Matt might miss it entirely amongst the loud voices of others.

“Can I kiss you?’’

He releases a sharp exhale as if he has been waiting for you to utter those words all evening.

“Please.”

You lean in, carefully, slowly. His lips slightly part in an open invitation, and you meet in the middle. The touch is gentle, soft tissues overlap in slow, indulgent caresses. Simple, yet it invokes a craving in you. The need for him to be even closer, the yearning to find out the taste of him. Matt touches your jaw, and draws you in closer, deepening the kiss, and you let yourself go. Eager, perching on the territory of desperation as the pressure on your lips grows more insistently. You're entangled in an exhilarating chase, circling around each other like you simply can't resist the pull that's been there since the moment you sat down. Matt silently asks for entry at the seam of your lips, and you respond in kind. His tongue strokes yours and suddenly, there is a new kind of invisible vapour that you're breathing in. It's overwhelming, yet not enough at the same time. You can taste the bitterness of the whisky that makes you wince on normal occasions, but on Matt's tongue, it's addictive and inexplicably irresistible. His air runs wild in your lungs, warming your body from the inside, awakening your nerves.

You break away at the sound of a teasing whistle clearly directed at you, reminding you of where you are. Matt’s face is flushed red, and you want to see how far down the colour goes under the suit and tie he's wearing. His hand is still on your jaw, gently caressing the line like he doesn't want to let go. And you don't want to let him go either.

“Can we go back to your place?”

The question rolls off your tongue, and he nods immediately, a little breathlessly. You stand up from your chairs at the same time. Matt reaches for his coat that is on the back of the chair. You shrug your own on and avert your gaze when Matt subtly adjusts his slacks. You put the bills down for your drinks, shutting Matt down when he objects to the idea. His hand find yours when you offer it to him, and you walk into the brisk air together.

The walk back didn't take too long. Matt held your hand the whole time, and the small gesture made your insides flutter. He lets you go when you reach his apartment. The unit number 6A has almost faded into the dark door. He unlocks the door and tells you where the light switch is. You turn it on, and place your coat in his awaiting palm. You follow him further into the apartment and take in the space.

“Who did you kill to get this place?”

Matt chuckles, discarding his tie with one hand.

“No killing involved. The neon sign out there is enough to chase people away.”

Your gaze falls on the giant, blinking advertisement outside the window.

“Nothing a few blackout curtains won't fix.”

He drapes the black tie on the back of the couch as you turn to the other side of the apartment.

“Do those stairs lead to the rooftop?”

“Yes, they do.”

You keep your back to him.

"Do you go up there often?"

"From time to time."

"This is … wow."

You're not sure why you're stalling. You pretend to look around as you try to brush off a nagging feeling that has settled in the pit of your stomach. Just the nerves, you think. You're out of practice, that's all.

So you clear your throat and say.

“Is your bedroom behind that bigger sliding door?”

He nods. You feel a little out of place, so you gravitate towards him, a familiar presence in a strange space. Matt lets you come to him, giving you all the control. You lean in and attach your lips to his, allowing it to follow the natural progression as it did back at Josie's. Your legs tangle and stumble towards the bedroom, your lips never too far away from one another. You think you might hit the closed door, but before that can happen, Matt pulls you flush against his body with one hand and uses the other to slide the door open in one smooth, practiced move. You pull away when you need to catch your breath.

“May I …”

You touch the side of his glasses. After a quiet moment, he gives you permission to take them, and you do. Slowly, and with the utmost care you can manage, you set them on the bedside table. His eyes are closed when you straighten. You caress his cheek, feeling the way his features form together. Your touch is soothing, and you hope he can feel the patience you offer to him. There is no rush, no pressure. After a long moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you take them in. You can see how he tries to meet your eyes in his own way. The shade of hazel is shrouded by the low light and the occasional shutter of his eyelids.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

You raise slightly on your tiptoes and kiss his eyelids, feeling his lashes fluttering softly. He waits for you to return to him, and seeks out your lips in a delicate manner.

You fall onto the bed together. Matt braces himself on his forearms so he doesn't crush you. You pull his head down to yours, kissing and nibbling on the stretch of stubble along his jaw. His soft groans of approval encourage the other hand to travel downward, pulling on the white dress shirt. Once it's free from the slacks, you weave your hand inside and run your palm along the expanse of his torso. The dips and raises of his well-defined abs are warm under your palm, and the sensation stokes the molten liquid that's nestling deep inside you. You feel the feverish need edging over that part of you that you want to ignore.

The gradual pullback doesn't feel like a rejection at first, but merely an invitation to follow. So you do, your hands work to unbutton his shirt. But Matt slows you down to a stop, holding your hands to his lips and placing kisses on your palms. You blink, still snarled in the haze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Confronted. The only word that can describe accurately how you're feeling.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your heart …”

His hand trails from your collarbone to your chest where your heart resides within in a way that feels strangely intimate and not at all invasive. You hadn’t realized how fast your heart was beating. It's pounding. You are more nervous about this than you thought.

“… is beating quite fast. Are you nervous?”

You're safe. It's an innate feeling, and while you can't explain it, you know lying to Matt serves no purpose here. He seems to have a way to read you without using his sight.

“Yes, a little bit. I haven’t done this before. Sleeping with a stranger, I mean.”

“I see. We don’t have to do this.”

You raise yourself on your elbows.

“No, I wanted to go back here, with you. I want this.”

“But it doesn’t mean you owe me anything. If you change your mind for whatever reason, I'm okay with that as well."

Matt presses a kiss to your forehead.

"We can always try this again at another time.”

Guilt claws at you, urging you to do anything to please him.

“I’m sorry. I gave you the wrong signal.”

“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He tries to find your hand, and you offer it to him. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I had a good time with a beautiful woman, then I got to kiss her, all in one night, and that's enough.”

You guffaw, throwing your head back at the blatant flirt.

“You don’t even know how I look like.”

“No, I don’t. But I have my own way to tell. You sound beautiful.”

An idea materializes in your mind, and you give in to it. You bring his hand to your face, trailing along the side of your face. He gets the hint and begins his own exploration of your features. The way he takes his time, following the slopes of your face, his touch gentle, ghosting over your skin. He stops at your lips and soothes his thumb over the kiss-swollen flesh. You sigh softly. He gives you one last kiss, his tenderness makes your heart soar.

“Would you like something comfortable to sleep in?”

“I'm fine with anything you have.”

Matt finds his closet and pulls out a grey sweatshirt. He tells you where the bathroom is, and you take the folded shirt with you. You clean yourself up with water before stripping down to your underwear. You put the soft material over your body. It smells like him, and soft, just like him. You come out of the washroom and see his bare back for a split second before he pulls the shirt down. He has changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt that hugs his chest and biceps beautifully.

You stand by his bed, not sure where you can come in despite the two of you ruffling the sheets not even ten minutes ago. Matt chooses for you, settling on the space facing the window, leaving you the side which is closer to the sliding door. His sheets are silky soft, and you feel yourself sinking right into them. You turn to face Matt, touching his shoulder. He faces you fully, his eyes settling on a point on the lower part of your face.

“Thank you.”

You whisper.

“Thank me by staying for breakfast.”

“Why breakfast?”

“I can't send you off to your interview on an empty stomach, can I? It's the least I can do.”

A rueful smile graces your lips.

“I can’t wait.”

You fell asleep with ease. At one point during the night, you could feel Matt detach himself from you, and out of a vague desperation that you couldn't process, you held tighter onto him involuntarily. At that, he stopped moving, and you felt a soothing pattern trailing over your head, luring you back to sleep again. His warmth carried you through the few hours that you slept.

It's a little past 4 AM when you wake, and find Matt still sleeping peacefully. Torn, but you come to accept that leaving is for the best. You get out of bed gently, thankful that the wooden floor didn't make a noise. You take his sweatshirt off and fold it, putting it on top of the pillow that you slept on. After putting on the clothes from the night before, you leave with much regret in your heart.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[biblical-chronicles]

Locked out

____________________________________________

where you lock yourself out of your hotel room and end up in Noel's.

[18+ !!!] [enemies to lovers]

____________________________________________

The job had its perks. Traveling the world, working with some of the biggest gigs, free booze—Oasis had money to burn, after all. But there was one massive, massive downside.

Noel fucking Gallagher.

It wasn’t just that he was a sarcastic, self-important, grumpy bastard (which he absolutely was). It wasn’t even that he always had some smart-arse comment locked and loaded, ready to wind you up. It was the fact that he seemed to enjoy it, like taking the piss out of you was a personal hobby.

The lads had clocked it ages ago.

"How old are you two, seriously?" Guigs had said just the other night, shaking his head as you and Noel argued over god knows what. "You’re worse than me Nan and Grandad, swear down."

"Yeah, the sexual tension’s killin’ me," Bonehead had added, smirking as he took a drag from his cigarette.

Noel had scoffed, shaking his head. "Fucking hell, mate. I’d sooner shag the local nitty than deal with this one."

You flipped him off, unfazed. "Oh, yeah? I bet the nitty would be the one having to get tested after that, dickhead."

It was constant, this back-and-forth, from the moment you woke up to the second you clocked out. Noel loved to threaten to fire you at least once a day, always with the same lazy reasoning.

"Should’ve sacked you ages ago," he’d mutter, watching you tune his guitar before a gig. "Only reason you’re still ‘ere is ‘cause I can’t be arsed teachin’ some other muppet how I like it."

"Yeah, yeah," you’d reply, never looking up. "Don’t do me any favors, Gallagher."

And so it went.

Now, though, none of that mattered. Not the bickering, not the jabs. Because right now? You were stood in the dimly lit hotel lobby, staring at a handwritten sign that might as well have been a death sentence.

"LOBBY CLOSED. OPERATING HOURS: 6 AM - 12 PM."

"Fucking great," you muttered, running a hand down your face.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was a shower, a bed, and maybe a few hours of peace before having to deal with Noel’s bullshit all over again tomorrow. But no, instead, you had to stand here like a mug because somehow, in your exhaustion, you’d managed to lock yourself out of your room.

Just as you were debating whether you could break into your own room with sheer willpower alone, the sound of footsteps echoed through the lobby.

And just like fucking clockwork—

"Eh?"

You knew that voice.

"Did you get lost, or what?"

You shut your eyes for a brief moment, praying for strength, then turned to see Noel strolling in through the revolving door.

He was still dressed from wherever the fuck he’d been; jeans, adidas trainers, a zip-up jacket with the collar popped just enough to make him look like he was about to sell you dodgy gear in a car park.

You gritted your teeth. "Fuck off, Noel."

His smirk widened, slow and knowing. "Ohh, someone’s touchy."

You turned back to the desk, hoping he’d get bored and leave. No such luck. He sauntered up beside you, eyes flicking to the sign before back to you.

Realization dawned, and then he just laughed.

"No." He pointed at you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his luck. "No fuckin’ way. You locked yourself out, didn’t you?"

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "No."

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

You exhaled sharply. "Okay, maybe, and no one is even here! How is a lobby not 24/7?"

"And you didn’t take your key, and you didn’t check the sign first," he said, as if reading from a list of your stupid decisions. "Jesus Christ, love. That’s incredible."

You scowled. "Piss off."

Noel, clearly enjoying himself, leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling with pure delight. "Me? Oh, nah. I think I’ll stick around, actually. This is too fuckin’ good."

You groaned. "Go to bed, Noel."

"Bed?" He feigned a yawn, stretching his arms dramatically. "Oh, yeah. That’s right. I can go to bed. Because I have access to me own fuckin’ room."

You clenched your fists. "I have a backstage pass. I’ll just sleep in the tour bus."

Noel snorted. "Yeah? Or on one of them couches over there?" He gestured vaguely to the dimly lit lobby seating area. "Might be comfy, if no one nicks your shite first."

You stilled.

He grinned. "Ohh, right. Didn’t think about that, did ya?"

You huffed. "Fuck."

Noel pressed a hand to his chest in mock sympathy. "Tragic, really." Then, after a beat, "... Guess you’re stuck here then."

You gave him a flat look. "Guess so."

He smirked, clearly waiting for you to crack.

Which is why it pained you—physically—when you exhaled and muttered, "Or… I could stay in yours. Just ‘til the desk opens."

Noel blinked. "Oh?"

You clenched your jaw. "So no one nicks me shite."

His smirk returned, slow and victorious. "Yeah, yeah. ‘Course. Wouldn’t want anyone robbin’ your precious little pass, would we?"

You resisted the urge to deck him.

"Alright then," he said, turning toward the lifts, his voice filled with pure satisfaction. "C’mon, roomie."

You glared at his back as you followed him down the corridors.

Noel shut the door behind him and turned to face you, arms crossed, an insufferable smirk plastered across his face.

"Well, well," he said, leaning back against the door. "Never thought I’d see the day you begged to stay in me room."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dropped your bag by the chair. "Begged? Fuck off, Noel. I suggested it ‘cause I had no choice."

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ahh, see, that’s where you’re wrong, love. You had a choice." He gestured vaguely toward the lobby. "Could’ve stayed down there, kept them couches company."

"And let some knobhead nick me pass? Yeah, right." You crossed your arms. "This is just survival, mate. Has nothing to do with you."

His smirk widened. "Yeah? Then why’re you lookin’ at me like that?"

You blinked. "Like what?"

Noel tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, unreadable. "Like you wanna throttle me."

You huffed, exasperated. "That’s just me natural state when you’re around, Gallagher."

"Ahh." He grinned. "See, I knew you liked me."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Like you? Jesus, Noel, I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire."

His grin didn’t falter. In fact, it only grew.

"Yeah? Funny," he mused, stepping closer, voice low, lazy. "‘Cause you’re still ‘ere, ain’t ya?"

You swallowed but held your ground. "I don’t have a room, Noel."

He hummed, nodding slowly. "Right, yeah. That’s why you’re ‘ere. Not ‘cause you wanna get me alone, see what all the fuss is about."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You are so full of yourself."

He gave you a slow once-over, something dark and knowing flickering in his gaze. "Yeah?"

You inhaled sharply, blood running hot. "Fuck you."

Noel’s smirk twitched—almost like he’d been waiting for you to say that.

"Ohh, wouldn’t you like that?"

The air shifted.

You were on him before you could think, hands grabbing at his shirt, pulling him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Noel barely had a second to react before he was pushing back, hands gripping your waist, shoving you up against the nearest wall. The impact sent a lamp wobbling on the bedside table, the dull thud of your back against the wall swallowed by the sound of both your ragged breaths.

His lips were warm, rough, demanding. His fingers dug into your waist, like he needed to anchor himself.

You bit his bottom lip, hard, just to be a dickhead.

Noel groaned against your mouth, grip tightening. "Oh, you wanna play it like that, do ya?"

Before you could smirk, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the wall, pressing in, chest flush against yours.

You yanked a hand free, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to make him groan—and when he did, when his breath stuttered, you felt it everywhere.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered against your lips.

You smirked. "What’s wrong, Gallagher?" you breathed, voice teasing, drunk on the power shift. "Thought you could handle me?"

Noel laughed. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, "I could ruin you."

Your stomach dropped.

You clenched your jaw. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your grip tightened in his hair again, yanking his head back just enough to make him hiss. His smirk didn’t falter, though—if anything, it widened, smug and infuriating.

"You arrogant twat," you breathed, dragging your nails down the back of his neck. "Think you’re some fuckin’ god, don’t ya?"

Noel chuckled—dark, low. "Please, love," he murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "You’ve been gaggin’ for this since the day we met. Don’t pretend otherwise."

Your teeth gritted. "You’re deluded."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer, the heat of him pressing against you, trapping you between his body and the wall. "Then why ain’t you pushin’ me away?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt before you even realized it, and that was all it took.

One second, you were glaring up at him, seething, and the next—you were airborne.

A breathless gasp tore from your throat as he threw you onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath the sudden force of your body. Before you could even scramble upright, he was on you—knees bracketing your hips, hands gripping your wrists, pressing them into the sheets.

"You bastard—"

A sharp smack landed on your thigh, jolting you, heat blooming where his palm connected.

You froze.

Noel grinned. "What was that, sweetheart?"

Your breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. You hated the way your body betrayed you—the way your back arched, the way your thighs instinctively clenched together at the sting of his hand.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His smirk deepened. "Ohhh, that’s what you like, is it?" Another sharp slap—same spot, same deliberate pressure, just enough to make you jolt. "That why you’ve been windin’ me up all this time? Hopin’ I’d do this?"

You bit back a gasp as his teeth grazed your jaw, lips teasing over the heated skin just below your ear, fingers tightening where he held you down.

"You gonna let me go, or you just gonna sit here runnin’ your gob all night?" you shot back, arching up slightly beneath him, trying to gain some kind of control back.

Noel laughed, a little breathless. "Oh, you love this, don’t ya?" His hands shifted, releasing your wrists just to drag down your arms, over your waist, gripping your hips hard. "All that fight, all that fuckin’ attitude—"

"You love it," you shot back, daring.

Something snapped behind his eyes.

Before you could say another word, his mouth crashed against yours again.

It was all teeth, all tension, years of resentment and frustration and something else entirely spilling out between you.

You clawed at him in return, nails dragging up his back, yanking at his hair, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat.

"Still wanna tell me to fuck off, love?" Noel rasped against your lips, breath uneven.

Your fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him back down. "Shut up." you muttered, crashing your mouth against his again.

He barely hesitated before paying you back, fisting a hand into your hair and pulling your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. His mouth was on you in an instant, hot and open, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, voice thick with something triumphant. "Knew you’d be like this—mouthy little thing until you’re under me."

"And yet again, shut it." you snapped, even as your back arched, chasing the feel of him.

He laughed, breathless and sharp, his free hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping hard. Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing you down against the mattress with the weight of him. You let out a sound somewhere between frustration and something else entirely, but any protest died in your throat when his hand slapped against your arse, the sting shooting straight through you.

"That shut you up quick, didn’t it?" he murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You tried to glare at him over your shoulder, but the effect was ruined by the way your breath hitched when he did it again, the sharp slap sending heat curling low in your stomach.

"Say it," he taunted, his grip tightening on your hip. "Say you want me."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But Noel was nothing if not persistent. His hand slid lower, teasing, just enough to make you squirm beneath him. His teeth grazed your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. "C’mon, sweetheart. We both know you do."

Your pride was a stubborn thing, but your body was a traitor.

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, eyes dark with something heady and reckless. "Go on, then," you breathed. "Do your worst."

His fingers dug into your hips as he dragged you back against him, his grip bruising, possessive. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before his teeth found your shoulder again, biting down just enough to make you jolt beneath him. He groaned at the way you twitched, how your body betrayed that last shred of resistance you were so desperately clinging to.

"That’s more like it," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with amusement. "Knew you just needed someone to put you in your place."

You scoffed, even as your breath came quicker. "You think that’s you?"

He laughed. "Oh, love," he murmured, dragging his mouth up the side of your neck, "I know it is."

His hands slid lower, mapping the shape of you, fingers pressing into every curve like he wanted to commit it to memory. He moved with a slow, deliberate kind of cruelty, reveling in every shudder, every little sound you didn’t mean to make. You clenched your jaw, still stubborn, but it only made him smirk against your skin.

"Still holding out on me?" he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "Let’s see how long that lasts."

Then his hands gripped tighter, and he moved—a slow, devastating roll of his hips that had you sucking in a sharp breath. You felt the shape of him pressed firmly against you, the sheer heat of him burning through the layers between you both.

And then, just to be cruel, he stilled.

You let out an involuntary sound of frustration, which only made his grin widen. "Oh, what’s that?" he teased, rolling his hips just slightly, barely giving you anything. "Getting impatient, are we?"

You gritted your teeth, refusing to play into it.

His breath ghosted over your ear, smug and infuriating. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" His hand slid down, teasing at the edge of your waistband, making heat curl low in your stomach. "Or am I gonna have to make you say it?"

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body alive, burning with the heat of him. Your pride screamed at you to hold out just a little longer, to refuse him one last time.

But then he rocked against you again, the friction sending sparks up your spine, and every ounce of stubbornness melted right out of you.

"Fuck," you muttered, barely more than a breath. "Please."

Noel chuckled, dragging his lips over your shoulder. "There she is."

The moment that single word fell from your lips, his control snapped. His fingers curled into the waistband of your clothes, yanking them down with a rough impatience that sent a shiver racing through you. His trousers quickly followed, ending up in a pile on the floor.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as he pressed against you again, now with nothing between you. The heat of him, how hard he already was, it made your stomach twist in anticipation. But instead of giving you what you were desperate for, he dragged the moment out, hands roaming over your bare skin, taking his time.

"You feel that?" he murmured, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the full length of him pressing against you, the slow friction making your breath catch. "That’s what you’ve been fighting, sweetheart. Tell me—was it worth it?"

You barely had time to shudder before he reached back, guiding himself against you, teasing, just barely pressing in before retreating again.

You shifted, pushing back against him, but his grip tightened immediately, holding you in place. "Ah, ah," he taunted, fingers still digging into your hips. "You finally beg for it, and now you think you’re in charge?"

You opened your mouth to snap something back—maybe something sharp, maybe something desperate, you weren’t even sure—but before you could, he thrust inside you in one smooth, deep motion.

The air left your lungs in a sharp, broken gasp.

"There you go." he muttered, his voice a little rougher now.

He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he set a brutal pace, dragging out only to slam back in, the force of it driving you further into the mattress. The sounds of skin against skin, breathless, ragged gasps, and the creak of the bed quickly were the only things filling the space between you.

You fisted the sheets, struggling to hold onto even a shred of composure, but Noel was relentless. His fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head back slightly. "Listen to yourself" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Tried so hard to act like you didn’t want this. And now you’re dripping for me."

The humiliation only made the heat in your belly coil tighter.

As if sensing it, Noel let out a low chuckle. "You like that, don’t you?" He drove into you harder, just to hear the little choked noise that escaped your throat. "Fuck, you’re taking me so well."

His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive spot between your legs. The second he touched you, you clenched harder around him, and Noel groaned, sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

"Shit," Noel rasped, his pace stuttering for half a second before he caught himself. "Filthy fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?"

His grip on your hips was bruising, each snap of his hips knocking you further into the mattress, dragging another broken sound from your throat. You couldn’t even think, couldn’t do anything but take it, your body molded to his will, wrecked under the sheer force of him.

And he knew it.

"Where’s all that attitude now, huh?" His voice was tinged with mockery, as his hand smoothed up the curve of your spine, just for a moment, just long enough to make you think he might show some mercy.

Then he fisted his hand into your hair and yanked.

A sharp gasp ripped from your lips as your head was wrenched back, the burn at your scalp sending a jolt straight through you. Your back arched instinctively, pressing you closer against him, the new angle making you whimper.

"That’s more like it," Noel murmured, his grip in your hair tightening as he used it to pull you back against him, making you feel every inch of him sinking even deeper.

His other hand slid up your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his touch.

"You like when I handle you like this, don’t you?" he muttered, voice a low rasp against your ear.

He loosened his grip on your throat just enough for you to speak, but your words failed you. All you could do was let out a broken, pleading sound.

Noel groaned, his fingers flexing around your throat like he felt the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come just with these sweet desperate moans love."

He wrenched your head back a bit further, forcing your spine into a deeper arch, forcing you to take him exactly how he wanted. Every thrust was rough, deliberate, his hips slamming against you hard enough to bruise. Your body had no choice but to follow, every nerve ending alight, a coil of unbearable tension winding tighter and tighter in your core.

"No more remarks? No more telling me to fuck off?" he taunted, breath hot against your cheek.

Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the sheets, your mind a haze of pleasure and frustration. You wanted to say something, wanted to bite back just to spite him, but he was wrecking you, and you could barely form a single coherent thought.

So instead, you just whimpered his name.

"Fuck, that’s it," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart? You gonna fall apart just like this, with my cock buried inside you?"

His fingers dipped lower again, rubbing against your clit in tight, unrelenting circles, the pace of his thrusts turning ragged, desperate. The coil inside you twisted tighter, pleasure crashing over you in waves until you could barely breathe.

"You close?" he taunted, yanking your head back again, making sure you felt every single inch of him. "I can feel it, sweetheart, feel you gripping me so fuckin’ tight. Just let go. Come for me."

Your body locked up, pleasure blinding, white-hot and overwhelming as it crashed over you in wave after wave. You were dimly aware of your own broken cries, of the way your walls clenched around him like a vice, but nothing existed beyond the pure bliss of it.

Noel groaned, voice strangled, as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last shudder, his pace turning frantic. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips slamming against yours one last time before he buried himself deep with a low, wrecked curse.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sharp, uneven rhythm of your breathing.

Noel was still draped over you, his weight grounding, his skin hot where it pressed against yours. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. It was like neither of you wanted to be the first to break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Eventually, he exhaled, a deep, satisfied sound, before rolling onto his side, taking you with him. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his chest rising and falling against your back.

"Well," he murmured, voice hoarse, teasing, but softer than before. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You huffed a breath, still too dazed to formulate a proper response. He felt the way you relaxed against him, how you didn’t immediately shove him away.

A quiet beat passed before he spoke again, voice low but sincere.

"Didn’t think you’d actually let me touch you like that."

You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. "Didn’t think I’d want you to," you admitted.

He made a sound—half amusement, half something thoughtful. "And now?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the question.

There was no point in denying it, not now.

"I do want you to now, but you’re still a mug." you muttered.

Noel chuckled, low and lazy, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your shoulder.

You turned slightly in his hold, just enough to meet his gaze. He was already watching you, eyes half-lidded.

"Maybe we should stop pretending we hate each other," you said, voice softer now, more thoughtful.

Noel’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Oh, love," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering at your cheek. "I never hated you."

Your heart stumbled.

He let the words settle, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw, before he smirked. "Just really, really wanted to shut you up."

You rolled your eyes, but the bite was gone, replaced by something warm. "And what do you want now?"

His expression turned serious—just for a second. Then, he tugged you closer, pressing his mouth against yours, slow and lingering.

"You," he murmured against your lips. "Think I always have."

____________________________________________

oh who doesn't love some slight enemies to lovers, thanks to whoever suggested this xx

[lucysarah-c]

Hi! How are you? I have recently (a few weeks ago (I think)) found your blog and I absolutly love your storys and you.

What are your HC about levi having an S/O who talkes in her sleep or in generell has very intens dreams were she talks clear sentences, crys, moves alot and more

Thankyou if you answer ♡◇♧

Hi hi, love! How are you? I’m doing great, thank you for asking!

I’m so happy you’re enjoying my blog so far—I hope I keep writing things you love just as much!

Now, about Levi and sleep talking… The real issue? He’s not going to realize you’re asleep at first. He’ll hear you, respond, and then suddenly notice you’re still out cold and just be like, What the hell? He’ll be so confused. And if you say something ridiculous? Oh, he’s never letting that go. This man will bring it up at your funeral if he has to.

The bigger problem, though, is that Levi is a ridiculously light sleeper. He already barely gets any sleep, and if you move too much, kick, or talk in your sleep, he’s going to wake up. And then that’s it—he’s up for the rest of the night.

So, unless you only share a bed when you’re fucking haha he might struggle with it. He’d put up with it, of course, but you’re going to keep waking him up, and that’s going to be rough on both of you.

But at the end of the day, he’ll mostly just take it as a joke and never let you forget what you said in your sleep. With love, of course.

That’s it! Have a lovely day or night. Kisses! 💕

Did you enjoy this headcanon? I have two entire masterlists full of them! Here's a link!