#so this is like. now that i can see everyones pores im like how could you possibly be patching

[cosmicrhetoric]

carved out exactly 45 min to play bg3 this afternoon but alas the damn VALENTINES patch they put out is taking five million years to download like im being kept from my gaming because of Updated Lae'zel Makeout Animation man come on

[ma1dita]

lovers, or partners in crime

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 2.1k

summary: (post-tlt) directly after ‘if you need to be mean (be mean to me)’, The one where Annabeth and Percy think you're guilty too. You realize his betrayal a little too late, and he's left you looking like an accomplice. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: eye twitches guys im gonna crank out happy asks after this bc this hurt to the point of me delaying it a few days. drink water and take care luke nation

(posted 2/2/24 & betad by ellie and lari ty ladies mwah @lixzey @mrsaluado )

—

Exhaustion creeps up on you slowly, then all at once.

It’s been a long week at Camp Half Blood—with trying to stop a war from starting between the cabins and praying to the gods that the trio can stop everyone’s godrents from destroying the balance of the world, you could say you were kept busy making sure the place doesn’t go up in flames. 

Taking orders from Chiron and your dad has been your daily routine from sunrise to sundown, and you were glad to have Luke’s arms to fall into at the end of the night. But you woke up alone this morning, and a heavy feeling in your chest that’s been plaguing you for a while now feels more prominent as you drag your boots across camp for another long day.

Exhaustion blinds us and dulls the senses, but so does love. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was taking effect.

How long were you willing to ignore the signs in front of you?

Maybe it was just another bad day. Your mind felt like it was playing tricks on you, still in a haze from Luke keeping you up the night before, the feeling of his touch still lingering in your pores—evidence of eyebags and lovebites carefully hidden under concealer. You find yourself almost walking in a dream state, before Katie calls out to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Did you hear? Annabeth’s back. It’s all gonna be over soon,” she exclaims, and the both of you sigh in relief. You’d do anything to get this over with and take a long break. The idea of a long weekend with Luke somewhere, anywhere but here sounds like Elysium in comparison to what you’ve put yourselves through recently.

“You see Luke anywhere, Katie?”

She hums, her hand reaching out to fix some of the trampled foliage along the path, before she looks up at you, shaking her head.

“Not this morning, no. Maybe he’s with Annabeth?”

You nod thoughtfully, stretching your arms back to soothe the tension in your back. You’ll find him sooner or later, now that this is all over.

You always do.

—

“Clarisse stole the master bolt.” 

Your fingers wound themselves tighter around Luke’s at Percy’s declaration, but you can’t help but watch your boyfriend’s face closely as the rest of the conversation passes in the background. It’s been a weird day, to say the least—helping to set up for Percy’s celebration, and Luke being tightlipped and distant the whole while. You don’t think he’s actually said a single word to you since last night until he dragged you into his cabin to see Annie and Percy.

“Everyone was ready to join the war here. To start fighting each other. An accusation against Clarisse…” you reason awkwardly, more of a question than a statement. Standing here with your friends, you feel like the odd one out. How could you miss out on Clarisse being the lightning thief? But Luke looks at the two kids in front of you as determined as the devil himself.

He knew. 

He spares you a sidelong glance, a smile quirking up on the scarred side of his face.

When did Luke start making plans without you? 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, tranquility comes off of you in waves; you barely notice that Luke drops your hand until you hear him speak again. 

“You’ve stopped the war. You’ve saved the world. Now, it’s safe to tell Chiron and finish cleaning up the mess. I told him we needed to meet him away from the celebration so we can talk without any of Clarisse’s supporters noticing.” Luke crosses his arms, trying to avoid the reach of your powers and your scorching stare while his gaze is sharp on Percy, and suddenly, the heavy feeling in your chest has a name, revealing itself as doubt. 

How could you be so stupid? 

Eyes don’t lie, even if Luke does, and you finally see through him, so much that you fear you’ve found his other side. 

Annabeth grabs your hand, your head whipping to look at her as she speaks, “We’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you’re gone. Make sure she isn’t going anywhere.” You feel your body shake with paranoia as you start to question everything until the daughter of Athena pulls you back to the present. Taking quick steps out of cabin 11, you take a glance back at Luke, seeing him look glumly at you from the doorway, and it reminds you of a simpler time five years ago, with him standing in the same spot he introduced himself to you on his first day at camp. This time, you don’t walk away.

“I’ll find you later, I…I just need to talk to Luke real quick,” you say biting your lip hesitantly. Annabeth’s gaze is cold as steel as she nods, doubt now running through her as well as she watches you walk back to your boyfriend. You catch him by the arm as he tries to glide past you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You’re searching for an answer Luke will never give you, not out loud—as he dodges your glances, keeping a distance between you two. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta go,” he gruffs, anxiety running off of him in waves as his hands fidget at his sides. The sun is setting, and he needs to finish what he was told to do.

“We still have a bit of ti—” He interrupts you swiftly, “Not enough.”

“I know you’re always in charge around here, but not everything can go the way we want, you know?”

Your lips turn into a frown at his words, and you wonder who it is you’re talking to. Surely, not the boy whose arms you fell asleep in last night. You used to be able to figure him out so easily, but now… he’s acting like you’re an enemy. The banter he deals doesn’t usually make you feel like you’re at the short end of a stick, and though he’s right in front of you, it feels like his mind is already miles away. You’re desperate to hold onto whatever you can though, not wanting to let go of whatever’s plaguing him.

“Angelface. Look at me. Percy’s a hero, everything else will fix itself, why are you so—”

Luke sighs, blinking slowly, and you’re surprised when he pulls your hands to his chest, placing them under his camp beads, so you stop speaking. 

You never know when the last time is until it happens. You didn’t think it’d feel like this.

“I need to do this.” 

He’s not talking about turning in Clarisse anymore, and your body reacts before your mind does, surging forward to hug him. Your fingers run up the expanse of his back, the smell of citrus and musk being familiar but the discomfort in his embrace is not. From here, you can’t see his eyes, but his heart rate accelerates as he wounds his hands in your hair, pulling you closer until the space between you is nonexistent.

“Please,” he mumbles. 

Is it a request? 

The shock runs through your veins as you try to think of what to say next—Luke’s never been one to beg.

“I’d do anything to protect our home, Luke, you don’t have to convince me when it’s the right thing to do.”

Your name falls from his lips, almost like he disagrees with what you said, and then you realize he’s begging you.

He’s asking for your permission. He’s asking you to let him go.

“You’re my home, Trouble. You know that right? You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

You try to nod, try to pull away to look at him but he presses you harder into his embrace, like he knows he won’t have the chance again. It hurts, though not in the way you expect.

“L-Luke, you’re hurting me.” Your breath quickens as you try to unravel yourself from him, but you’re unsure where he ends and you begin.

“Just a little bit longer.” 

Your nose buries itself into his neck, and you realize he’s trembling, but you can’t figure out who’s scared, him or you? Voices are echoing in your head and it’s too loud; you clench your fists into his orange camp shirt. Why do you always need to see the proof to believe it’s real? Why do you have to wait until the damage is done?

“I have to do this, Trouble. Everything will change and there’s no other way— either we win or we die. Failure isn’t an option for me. Not again.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one,” you mutter, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face the truth for a while more, “but I still love you, despite it.” 

Despite this.

A watery chuckle escapes you, and his hands are trembling as he pushes a strand of your hair back. He holds onto you more softly now, and whether you know it or not, it’s to make up for all the time he’ll have to go without holding you after this. Percy calls out to him in the distance and once Luke frees you from his arms, you wonder why it feels like you’re unraveling at the seams, slowly parting from him. The tether you have on each other loosens, and it’s hard to tell who is being freed, and who is letting go. Luke walks away wordlessly, curls bouncing in the brisk air without a second glance until you call out to him.

“I’ll find you!”

A threat disguised as a promise, you stand there in the middle of the path feeling exposed as the wretched little girl at your core, desperate to be loved, desperate to be enough. 

But it’s not enough for him to stay, now is it?

—-

The truth is, Luke broke your heart before you even lost him, by hitting you where it hurts— he hit home. Camp Half-Blood has always been the one place you’ve known as home, and even if you claim to hate it—you’d die protecting it if that’s what was needed of you. You stay vigilant next to Annabeth, who looks up at your unusually quiet demeanor, and you feel like you have to confess to a crime that you didn’t commit.

“Luke’s leaving camp.”

She nods stiffly without answering you, wondering if you know about what else he’s done, too. Unlike you though, she’d rather find out before the damage is done.

The sun had set an hour ago, and fireworks were going off in the distance, everyone celebrating a hero’s return. You noticed Clarisse still sitting around the campfire with her siblings, Chiron still present and watching the festivities, and what had to be your last straw was noticing Annabeth had disappeared from your side. So you do what you do best, chase after Luke, and hope that you’re not too late.

Your breath heaves as you run through the dark forest without a single plan in mind and hoping, just hoping that no one’s hurt. You run faster towards the sound of swords clanging against each other, two figures illuminated by the fireworks in the distance.

What you didn’t expect to see was Luke’s sword pointed at an injured son of Poseidon sprawled out in the dirt.

“Percy!” your voice yells out shakily, your instincts kicking in as the truth is laid out in front of you, something darker and much worse than anything you could’ve imagined. Blue light illuminates the scarred side of your boyfriend’s face as he turns to look at you with shimmering eyes, and you see Annabeth with her sword raised at…the both of you.

Is this what love is… looking at a person who’s hurt you and still hoping they’re alright? You’re exhausted, wondering how long he’s been lying to your face—while he holds you, kisses you, and takes your pain away… and it all amounted to feeling guilty for letting his deception slip through your fingers and hurting the people you love. 

Luke’s scar you used to compare to a bolt of lightning now looks like a tear cascading from regret. And perhaps he does regret this, losing Annabeth and losing you, but he never turns back on his word once he’s made a decision. 

This one was just made without you. 

There’s a moment where everything goes silent despite the booming in the sky and you both take one last good look at each other, and Percy and Annabeth are unsure if you two look like forlorn lovers, or partners in crime.

“Castellan…”

His face hardens again at the wavering sound of your voice, almost unrecognizable in the dim light, and you know now that this is it. You’ve always been convinced that a love like the one you and Luke share is tailor-made and stitched together by the Fates. But the strings are cut, and like Atropos, he’s the one holding the scissors.

The last thing you see are his dark eyes and how he turns to run away, headfirst into a future without you. 

For a second you could’ve sworn they flashed gold.

—

“I wanted to hurt you

 but the victory is that I could not stomach it.” 

 -Richard Siken

next part: love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[knightfcll]

nightcap

welt x reader, 1.6k

note: 🤪 im like not even caught up but i love this gilf tew much okay bye. My first reader fic on da blog, blease be nice 2 me <3

content notes: ❗️❗️🔞🔞🔞❗️❗️ explicit smut here, minors do NOT interact!!! Reader is gender neutral, no specific references to pronouns/body type/genitalia for reader, brief oral sex, penetrative sex, reader calls welt “mr yang” a lot 🥴

The Astral Express is quiet. You've finally returned after another long and difficult journey on another strange, new planet. Everyone else has retired to their own rooms for a well deserved rest, but you still wander the halls. Mr. Yang had stayed behind for this assignment and to say that you felt his absence was an understatement.

You had lasted all of five minutes in your own bed before throwing off the covers and deciding to seek him out. Without the exhaustion of adventure weighing him down, he's likely still awake, perhaps poring over a newspaper from your latest excursion. You make sure to bring one back for him if he's not there; he says it's so he can get a better idea of what effect the Stellaron's had on the planet, but you see how quickly he turns to the comic strips. You'll catch him doodling the characters later, sometimes changing their features, doing two and three different sketches that he thinks you won't see.

You're only half right. You find him almost exactly as you'd imagined when you slip into his room, except his brows are furrowed. He's tapping a pencil against the paper.

“Need any help, Mr. Yang?”

He looks at you briefly before returning to his crossword puzzle. "Evening. And yes."

You smile and saunter towards him, crawling onto the bed eagerly. He opens his arms without prompting, allowing you to settle into his lap with your back to his chest. He has most of it filled out already, with only the bottom left grid glaringly empty. Mr. Yang is one of the smartest people, which is why you like to tease him when he has to ask you for help with these things, but he's also the most mature, which accounts for the good natured chuckle you typically get in response.

"What's the clue?"

"Eight letters. 'Hot term for a recent admirer.'"

You make a show of scrunching up your face and delicately take the pencil from him. Your handwriting isn't quite as neat as his, but finds a certain charm in it.

Welt hums appreciatively. "'New flame.' I think you could be right."

You beam. "Bested by the newcomer, Mr. Yang. You'll have to ask me to explain strange things out in the wild next time we leave the Express."

He chuckles. He thinks it's cute when you try to tease him like this; you're all bark and no bite, really. You fold as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Like right now, as his fingers ghost over your thigh. You lean into it as much as you can, but he's so good at holding back. It's the sweet sting of having someone like Welt for a lover: a wealth of experience to keep you satisfied for hours on end, but the patience and precision needed to keep you just on edge until he thinks you're ready.

"Did you need something?" He says it so casually, like he doesn't know your skin is burning underneath him.

You turn your head to look at him. It's there again, that little bit of sharpness in his gaze that seems to go right through you. He's already thinking about all the ways he can unmake you.

"Just you," you say, waiting the precious few moments it takes for the spark to ignite.

Welt kisses you, softly at first. His hands roam over your thighs, just ghosting underneath your sleep shorts. You whine the third time he does it, unable to handle the loss of his touch. He pulls away.

“Patience.”

You pout. He notices everything. “I’m not impatient.”

He humphs in disbelief. “Don’t make a sound until I tell you to.”

Any other night, you might protest his rigidity. Be the brat he likes you to be, until you’re a sobbing mess in hands, begging him to just fuck you and stop teasing. Tonight, however, you’re inclined towards obedience. You hush up and wait the agonizing few moments that he waits, watching for any sign of defiance. Satisfied, he kisses you again, hungrier this time, sliding his tongue over yours. You hold back a moan when he digs his fingers into your thighs.

Welt pushes you down. He trails his lips down your body, over your chest, your sensitive nipples. He halts just below your belly button, kissing the skin lightly while he pulls down your shorts. You shiver once your exposed to the cool air.

Anticipation burns inside you when he pulls your leg up and over his shoulder. He slowly teases your entrance with his tongue, giving it slow, featherlight licks that he soon follows up with a finger.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, unable to resist calling out as he speeds up.

He doesn’t respond, choosing to punish you instead by letting up. He knows it’s agony, feeling his warm breath on you where you need him most.

It’s too much. You give up on obedience and let desperation take hold as you grab at welt’s shoulders and pull him in to kiss you. Your taste lingers on his tongue. “Mr. Yang, please…“

Welt palms at your ass. It’s a nice reminder that he’s far more affected by you than he typically comes off. Although his words are often measured and his tone even, the way he touches you is nothing short of ravenous.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

You’re on the brink of tears now. Your legs are locked around his hips, his fingers are rubbing and pinching your nipple. He knows, but he likes to make you say it. “Mr. Yang, please, please,”

He doesn’t budge. You reach for the drawstring on his pants yourself, but he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth instead. “You can speak, can’t you? Use your words.”

You watch as he pulls your finger into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. He’ll keep going, ignoring your pleas while he toys with you long past the rising of the sun. He’s done it before.

You draw a shaky breath.

“Mr. Yang, I need you inside me.”

You wait for his response. He almost looks bored, that half-awake look he gets when he’s quizzing you on the values of each Aeon with hands roaming across your chest.

He kisses your palm. “Keep going.”

“Welt,” his given name falls from your lips, a strained whisper that sets Welt on edge, “please fuck me, I can’t take it anymore, please.“

Welt lets go of your hand. He disentangles himself from you fully, ignoring your desperate whines. You hear his pants fall to the floor and then he’s hovering over you again, sliding a hand under your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You hear him, but you’re too distracted by the sight of his weeping cock to really pay attention. He sighs and gently lifts you, maneuvering you so you’re on your hands and knees with your back to him.

Tears of relief fall down your face when Welt drapes himself over your back. You feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You shudder when he finally enters you. His grip on your waist tightens. He lets his cock stay sheathed in you for an agonizing moment before he pulls out and starts to set a rhythm. The slow friction stirs something in Welt; he lets go of your waist and covers your hand with his own. He curses above you and moves in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“I want to hear you. Please,” Welt gasps. It makes your heart skip.

You call out to him, moaning his name in a quiet voice that gets louder and louder as his thrusts quicken. Your words become more frantic, endless declarations of how much you need him interrupted by broken sobs of pleasure. Welt speaks your name, too, in between ragged breaths and the rapid stuttering of his hips, curses falling from his lips in a constant prayer.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, because you know how his breathing stops when you call him that, just like the first time it did when he had you on your knees in his bedroom, “Mr. Yang, I love you.”

Welt’s final thread of composure snaps. He hooks his arm around your throat and buried his face in your neck. His hips slap against you harder than before, but he still has the presence of mind to reach down and tease you one last time to put you over the edge. Waves of ecstasy roll through as you give one final, strangled shout.

Welt follows soon after, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic until he buries himself to the hilt and groans deep into your skin. You both slump forward, breathing heavily. He kisses your neck sloppily before finally pulling out with a sigh. He pulls you once to get you to clean up, but you don’t budge, a telltale look of bliss on your face. He gives up and leaves you, returning with clean cloths to wipe you down. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he flips you onto your back and takes care of you.

“Thanks, Welt.”

He smiles softly, but doesn’t look at you, focused on his task. He climbs back into the bed once he’s done, flat on his back. You lean over and rest your head on his chest.

Exhaustion weighs you down suddenly. Even though you left the mission early to see Welt, the trip back to the express hadn’t been easy. It feels like you’ll drift off into sleep as soon as you close your eyes. So you do, but not before reaching up to kiss Welt just under his chin.

[awkwardlyfangirly]

every day im thinking about aran hekiru every day im thinking how much he wants everyone to like him and how much everyone hates him and how disgusting he is how awful and how much of myself i see in him. every single day. i stare at him oozing acid from every pore screaming how his friends left him behind in hide and seek and i say, that is how i feel every day of my life. i stare at the acid dripping off of his skin and i feel just as sticky, just as gooey, just as gross. his hands shake and he stutters. he grapples for meaning wherever he can find it. he says, relationships are all life is, right? and shoves it deep down into his core and wraps himself around it. he's such a coward. aren't we all? he isn't made to be a ranger. he is made to sit at home and tremble in front of the television. alone. surrounded by rubbish he cant find the energy to put away. but he wants to do something, he wants to belong somewhere, all hekiru has ever wanted is to belong. he can belong here, with the rangers. he needs to belong here, with the rangers. and when that's threatened, his chest tightens like a vice and his skin melts around him. desperation flashes through his spinal cord. he needs to belong. he needs to belong. he will do anything anything anything anything so that these people don't look at him with hatred, disgust, disappointment. he's seen enough of that to last a lifetime. aran hekiru is a failure and a fraud. he feels it in the marrow of his bones. he lays awake at night and chokes on it. aran hekiru hates himself so entirely. and loves himself so deeply. he curls his fists around his good things. he has so much to offer the world. so much is locked inside of him. he is beautiful. special. if only someone took the time to see him. he latches onto every bit of attention he gets. you understand me, right? you understand me, right? someone sees me. someone sees me. someone cares. but no one really does, do they. no one really takes the time to look at hekiru. he's too nervous, too weird, too incompetent. they're kind to this quiet boy. but he makes them uncomfortable. he makes everyone uncomfortable. he makes himself uncomfortable. he is split in two. he hates himself. he loves himself. he understands their scorn. he begs for them to listen to him. he has so much he could offer. he could be such a good friend. aran hekiru is so, so angry. why wont anyone look at him? why won't anyone take the time for him? he cares so much. he cares so much about everyone. but no one will ever truly care about him, will they? it festers like a blister on the inside of his ribcage. he is so angry. so incompetent. so helpless. but when he holds that divine artifact, arms himself, turns his body into a living weapon, he feels power thrumming through his veins. the acid rolls off of his skin and it feels good. now they will look. now they will see. aran hekiru, junior third rank ranger. he is something now. strong. powerful. his hands tremble around the handle, gripping it too tight. if he messes up, they will hate him. everyone will hate him. aran hekiru is split down the middle, anxious and proud, furious and shy. i watch his nervous eyes and his messy gooey skin and his babbled words and i stare into a mirror. he's a disaster and a disgrace. so am i. so am i.

[tokusaatsus]

this has been in my mind lately, can i request izumi and madara (seperated please!) having a late night drive with their bike with their s/o <33 im having a bikerboy izumi brainrot rn i don't think im okay.

☆—MIKEJIMA MADARA

You’re curled up on the couch in the dorm, feet tucked beneath you as you leaf through the proposals submitted for the next Fes. It’s nearing 11PM, but you’re not tired and you want to try to be productive for a bit, to try and take some pressure off of poor Producer-chan.

Seriously, those guys take her for granted!? It’s no wonder you’re her favourite, what with the way the others treat her…

Chk!

The sound of something hitting the windowpane makes your head shoot up from where you were poring over Valkyrie’s requirements for their next Live. Huh? You dismiss it. It was probably just a falling branch or something.

Chk!

Your eye twitches. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Chk! Chk! Chk!

Oh my fucking God. You stand up, scowling fiercely. I’m going to kill you, you think viciously. Like, who the fuck throws shit at someone’s window at fucking 11:19 in the night? If your poor dormmates had the tragic luck of seeing you right now, they’d probably be cowering in terror at the intense amount of bloodlust emanating from your body.

You slam open the window frame, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind, and just narrowly miss getting headshotted by a rock. Only your quick reflexes prevent any lasting damage, and you feel a vein throb in your forehead.

Why, you little…

“Y/N-saaaan!”

Wh. What. You think you may be hallucinating

No way…

You lean over the edge, and standing just below you, so close you could literally reach out and touch him, is none other than Mikejima Madara, in the flesh and definitely not a hallucination.

“Madara-kun…? What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you!” You flush. Jeez, he’s so honest about these things. He grins when he sees the way you duck to hide your blushing face. And, oh wow. That’s way too bright for 11:27 at night. “Come down!”

You blink. You can’t deny, his face is a welcome sight after 2 or so hours of reading reports in various handwriting, ranging from neat and pretty (Shu-kun) to downright horrible–what you’re certain is a bastardised version of English and Kanji (Chiaki-kun). But you hesitate, because whatever work you leave now means more work for Producer-chan tomorrow.

Still, you’ve found yourself missing him lately. With all his Double Face work, and how you’ve been busy chasing after everyone, you’ve barely been able to spend any time together in the past few weeks. 

Your resolve practically collapses after you take a look at his smiling face. I can’t say no to that face, you lament piteously.

“Yeah, okay…” You concede. You swing one leg over the bottom edge of the window frame, and begin the arduous task of squeezing yourself through the gap. As you teeter precariously on the razor’s edge between safety and–well, maybe not death, but certainly injury–you pause. “Madara-kun, if I fell, would you catch me?”

“Of course.” The answer comes immediately.

You smile at him, softly. “Okay. Hey, Madara-kun. Catch.”

You push yourself fully off of the window, fully trusting the man below you to catch you in his arms. It’s stupid, sure, but maybe he makes you stupid. And your implicit trust is rewarded as you collapse straight into strong arms, like the perfect bridal carry.

“Y/N-saaaan!” Madara cries out. “Why did you do that? What if I didn’t catch you?”

“I knew you would,” You say. “I trust you.”

That makes him pause, just a bit, before he takes it in stride. Still, you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He seems to shake himself, then does an abrupt turn and starts marching towards the dorm entrance. You squawk.

“Ah, Madara-kun, put me down?”

“No way!” He chirps. “What happens if Y/N-san gets cold? I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Madara-kun!”

You smack him, affronted. You are not a delicate maiden, or whatever! Despite the fact that you get cold easily, it’s nothing you can’t handle… Still, you find yourself just a tiny bit grateful for the fact that he exudes warmth like a furnace. You resist the urge to snuggle closer. It would be, frankly, embarrassing.

He comes to a stop in front and you squirm out of his arms, wincing when the wet grass squelches unpleasantly under your slippers.

You freeze, caught in the aura of an absolutely gorgeous being, and you feel your soul cleanse itself just by standing in the vicinity of this beautiful lady. You rush forwards to run your hands over the smooth curves and ridges.

“Oh, Baby-chan…” You sigh. “You’re looking lovely…”

Madara-kun laughs behind you. “Sometimes, I think Y/N-san only puts up with me for Baby-chan…but she is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

“You’ve found me out.” You deadpan. “Baby-chan and I are having an illicit affair.”

“I knew it!” Madara-kun makes a mock-affronted noise, but you can see the faint undercurrent of hurt running through it. Maybe someone else might not have noticed, but you’ve spent enough time with him to be able to tell.

You laugh. “Don’t worry, though. You’re still my favourite.”

He smiles as he mounts Baby-chan. “That’s how it should be~ Anyways, climb on!”

You do so, with necessary wariness as he wears his helmet. As much as you love Baby-chan (and Madara-kun, you suppose…), high speeds are not for you, especially in a vehicle without seatbelts. He revvs the engine, and Baby-chan purrs in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “Ready?” He calls over his shoulder. You tighten your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight!”

And you’re off. The streetlights flare yellow as they catch in puddles of water dripping along the roadside. The scenery blurs as you ride past, a flurry of monochrome–black and grey, the moonlight washing everything out. It’s scary.

It’s beautiful.

Baby-chan growls once again, and you flinch. The way he swerves into hairpin turns makes you feel like your heart is going to beat straight out of your chest and onto the road. Of course Madara-kun would be the adrenaline-junkie sort of driver…

“Having fun?”

“Hng. I think we left my stomach behind a few turns back.” You bury your face into his back, grateful that it’s late enough that no one is out and about to see you being such a baby. So undignified! You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing! Ah, just…Y/N-san is soooo cute, I want to kiss you right now…”

A beat of silence, while he waits for his words to register in your dizzy brain.

Then:

“HUH!?”

☆—SENA IZUMI

Gorgeous ♡

come to the dorm entrance i have something to show you

You

???

i–

babe what???

Read at 03:31 AM

ok then

omw ig

Read at 03:34 AM

You shove your fingers into your pockets to stave off the cold as you hover nervously near the gates. It’s late, and you’re really lucky ES is pretty lax with curfew. You suppose you have UNDEAD to thank for that, what with all the nighttime Lives they do. You make a note to thank them later.

“Hey,”

You perk up. “Babe, hi! What’s up–oh my God.” Stowing your phone in your pocket as you turn around to catch sight of…

Your boyfriend, dressed impeccably as usual in jeans and a button-up shirt, a leather jacket tossed carelessly over his shoulder (you’re kind of jealous? He looks good in anything. He could probably make a potato sack look good, if you’re being honest?), a silver helmet tucked under one arm. But that’s unimportant. The part you really care about is:

The absolutely gorgeous bike leaning next to him. Silver, with black and chrome tints. A cruiser by the looks of it, with a larger bulky shape, unlike the smooth, streamlined body of Mikejima’s beloved ‘Baby-chan’.

Wow.

Izumi smirks at you. “Like what you see?”

You laugh giddily. “Yes! It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” He scowls briefly as your words register. “I’m not an ‘it’.”

You blink, disconcerted. “I know? I was talking about the bike?”

“Oh.”

You clasp your hands together pleadingly. That bike is the most gorgeous motherfucking thing you’ve ever laid eyes on–second only to Izumi who is literally the single most beautiful thing ever created, so that doesn’t count–and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to ride it at least once.

“Can I drive it? Please? Pretty please?”

Izumi scoffs and turns his head away, but you think you can see the faintest colouring of pink rising in his cheeks. “Sure, whatever.”

He tosses you the keys, and you suppress a squeal. “Best boyfriend ever! Did I ever tell you how I am literally, like, sooooo in love with you?”

“Ew, stop being gross!?”

You roll your eyes lovingly, because if you look up tsundere in the dictionary Izumi’s face is probably the first picture you’ll see. You hop on the bike, and motion for Izumi to follow after. He does so hesitantly, a sour look forming on his face, but you’re too busy running your hands reverently over the sleek metal fastenings to notice.

“Hime~chan,” You murmur, slow and sensual, trying to channel your inner Izumi, the one who’s a part of Knights, who has fans thirsting over him on Tweeter. “Let me give you the best night of your life~”

“Are you…are you dirty-talking a motorbike right now?”

Izumi’s voice is full of derision and barely-concealed annoyance. You turn to look at him. “Who else would I dirty-talk to?”

The subsequent affronted look that appears on his face makes you want to burst out laughing. You force yourself to think of sad, depressing things so you don’t. Sad puppies, sad Mikejima’s, Hakaze when he tries so Goddamn hard to get a date… Yup, that’ll do it.

You revv up the engine, revelling in the roar that vibrates through your fucking bones. “Izumi, are you holding on?”

He places his hands lightly upon your shoulders, and you giggle before reaching behind you to tug his arms tightly around your waist because that’s not going to save him from being thrown off. He makes an aborted sound before he goes silent. “Ready?”

He taps a single finger against your hip, agreement, and you don’t waste a second before you’re tearing across the asphalt like this is Tokyo Drift and you’re the main character (does this make Izumi your love interest?).

The wind tears through your hair, and you know it’s going to be Hell to detangle later, but hey. What’s the use of having a sexy, sexy supermodel boyfriend if he doesn’t pamper you sometimes?

You speed up, just a bit. Just for the thrill. Head thrown back, you laugh as you swerve a perfect U for the next turn, loud and wild and free.

You can feel Izumi’s heart beating a panicked staccato against your chest, so you make an effort to slow down. His grip is tight, nails digging into the curve of your hips, face buried into the curve of your neck. His breathing gradually lessens from the terrified high it had been earlier and by the time you stop in front of the Starmony Dorms, it’s evened out entirely.

You pat the tail-end of the bike lovingly as you flick the kickstand out with the toe of your sneakers. “Oh, Hime~chan, you were wonderful tonight~ I had so much fun!”

Izumi reaches for you at the same time you turn to face him and you find yourself pinned against the wall, his hands framing either side of your head. “I… Izumi?”

“You’re sooo annoying, did you know that?” He huffs. “This whole time, you haven’t looked at me once. What’s up with that? Do you think your bike,”–“Hime-chan,” you correct, much to his annoyance–“is better than me?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“Then what does ‘Hime-chan’ have that I don’t!” Izumi’s brows are furrowed. You soften.

“Aw, babe, if you were jealous you could’ve just told me…” You say, ignoring his mutter of ‘I’m not jealous’. That’s adorable…! “You’re always number one in my heart!”

You lean forward to knock your forehead against his. He wrinkles his nose cutely but doesn’t pull away or complain about the close proximity, just entangles his fingers with yours. “I love you more than anything, okay?”

A mumbled ‘okay’ is your only response, and you smile.

The night sky smiles down on your lover, and you. What more could you possibly need at this moment?

OMAKE:

“When you said ‘Hime-chan’ is gorgeous, did you mean more gorgeous than me?”

“Oh, my God.”

☆—notes!

WC: 2k words

HOLY SHIT wtf i wrote. 2k words. for THIS??? huh??? ty anonnie for fuelling my brainworms, now i have fuckin leather jacket bikerboys on the brain sobs. ik my subtle mama bias is showing but ur honour i love him. also i hc babychan as a naked bike since she’s pretty sleek as far as i can tell? + her handlebars are thinner and i don’t think she has a front windshield so yeah… anyways i saw this as my chance to ramble abt bikes (bcuz bikes are my guilty pleasure!!) so im sorry if u learnt shit abt bikes u didn’t need to know. also tokyo drift is a fast&furious movie jsyk!! not me subtly dragging kaoru LMFAO i swear i love him. i hope u enjoyed this anonnie <3!! bcuz i rlly had fun writing this (which is why it’s so long incase u couldn’t tell sobs)

[ishifted-jdayz]

something i love about my wr is the "know" feature. this time, i was able to "read" a bunch of classics ive never had time to read before. theres some books i want to read on my own time, but lord of the rings/the hobbit or the entire narnia series again or like. the bible or the torah or the quran. or textbooks/studies or archives etc etc etc. i have interest in the information but the amount of time itd take to read all that is frustrating to me so to be able to just say "know" and havr all the information in my head now and Memorized...... obsessed. i love it. ive been able to read so many classics w/o having to Read them which can be idk cheating or whatever but idc bc i know it now as if i did read it just without Reading it for however long it takes to do it manually.

i could also do this w like language textbooks and stuff but idr want to??? i like poring over those more slowly.

today i did more exploring, rode the train into town. it was interesting. everyone there greeted me like i was an old friend, a well respected figure in the town. it was really cool. i got like free boba and a croissant and sat in the park square and watched some kids play in the fountain. it was really cool to exist around people there. they felt so real, which ofc they would, but this was the first time i really Got that i control this whole. existence, and that includes these people, but it doesnt Feel fake or imposter syndrome-y. i think that was something that scared me abt shifting before.

i went back home and decided to rot on my couch for a bit (though there it doesnt make me feel lethargic or anything, and also i have all the time in the world), and watched some edits ill make here in the future. v excited bc i love making edits and they look SO GOOD

i dont want . idk spoilers ig for some of my drs so i havent watched any for them but i did decide to listen to some music i make in some of them which was so cool...... i love music guys did you know this.

anyway then i decided to try going thru my howls moving castle door (not to a DR dr but like a different time period), and it was really cool i ran into jane austen!!!!!! she was so interesting. a bit quiet at first but very passionate when you get her going <3. i also trained with my old piano teacher which was nice, and hung out with my grandpa.

oh yeah and then i went back to my house and like. viewed the details of what would change irt my family if i changed stuff (my appearance, my older sister's behavior, my parents (and the world's) homo/transphobia, my athleticness (like what would change irt the Me there if i hadnt gone through all the stuff i went through irt my older sister; would my younger sister be on estrogen already like she wants; how would i be treated by extended family if i did all my extracurriculars like i want to, and specifically soccer (the sport the whole family is obsessed w) etc etc etc)). it was really interesting to see the details, and also be able to see what my parents were like younger, what my grandpa truly feels, if my one uncle is cool or not, all these truths about my family that ik i can change but its cool to see it laid out this way. gives me a lot more confidence and surety in everything. and i feel so. godlike. omniscient yk????? omnipotent. etc. was just really cool.

so anyway yeah i pored over that and then decided to go to the best (not most famous or highest deigned in the country, but the best Quality and authenticity) restaurant in japan, and my GOD. it was so fucking good. i got to try new stuff, and the servers (?) and owner were so cool. im loving it here so much.

and then i went back home and pet my cat and horse for a little before finally retiring to bed. tomorrow i think im gonna shower/bathe for the first time in my bathroom whichll be cool.

[amazingphilza]

twitchcon :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some mcyt headcanons if you were to attend twitchcon w them

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

cw: kinda lengthy for the minors (i think), not as much for the hags LMAO /hj

tommyinnit

this man is so excited to be at his first twitchcon & being able to hang out with all his best friends makes it a hundred times better

when he isn’t at a panel or doing meet & greets, he’s dragging you everywhere to see the whole convention center (clingyinnit)

he is just so at awe despite this not being his first convention to attend

you’d be surprised he gets tired pretty quickly & stops over to the partner lounge

you both rest for a bit against a wall in a pretty packed hallway despite it being an exclusive area to twitch partners

every time a famous streamer walks by he will yell it out and record it then vlog your reaction, even if they’re surrounded with bodyguards & trying to get to another place quickly

he’d zoom in his camera to their face at a horrible angle and be like

“oh my god it is THE ninja. ninja famous fortnite player, HELLO.”

but he gets completely ignored

then the camera pans out to you, still really zoomed in that the capture is blurry

“ninjainnit?”

“EH?”

tommy is so confused, forgetting the bit ninja did on his twitter where he renamed himself ‘ninjainnit’ for a split second

okay tommy isn’t that athletic but he will chase you and the rest of your group down a hallway if he had to

he’d probably find a toy gun from the artist alley/seller booths and shoot you and wilbur with it

but if tommy stumbles across any of the dream team, it’s about to be minecraft manhunt but irl

and he will def play his stream music while walking or smth when he’s bored (or trying to jump dream & sapnap)

** DO DO DO DO MANHUNT MUSIC **

oh my god,, now thinking about it he’s probably the one to open like random doors of empty rooms and steal stuff while you film him

like he will take a random empty glass, a bunch of pens, a freebie t-shirt, everything he sees he takes with him and you’re just panic

“tommy we’re literally not supposed to be here, and i’m stuck here filming you. it’s surely a felony in action”

“well, it’s their fault for leaving the doors open! plus this is great content. who’s the dirty crime boy now, HM?”

you’d tell wilbur about this and he’d scold tommy and threaten him with the same pen tommy stole

tommy probably would also drag you some weird event happening outside twitchcon along with tubbo and ranboo

“pokimane is giving out free pizza to everyone if we go to this one restaurant down the street!”

“we are literally gonna get bombarded. have you forgot you’re like three of twitch’s top streamers? i’d rather pay for all of our meals than try getting free pizza from pokimane against all her other fans”

“DEAL! let’s go to five guys then!”

you unfortunately end up paying for all 3 of their meals and picking on their food instead of buying your own

even with all of them making way more money than you, they still happen to be cheapskates

OR tommy will end up getting a burrito from a taco truck, immediately making a mess of himself, then proceed to complain how messy the food is to eat despite knowing what he was getting himself into before even ordering

“shit my clothes are all ruined now!”

“well that’s your fault you got a burrito, as if it’s your first time having one”

“i mean the food is good, i’m not complaining about that but i don’t think it’s that good that it’s worth costing my red and white shirt, im just saying”

tubbo

same with tommy, he is so excited

i don’t know why but i imagine him overpacking his suitcase and you making fun of him for it

anyway tubbo has his irl backpack on and streaming EVERYTHING

probably spends a lot of time at a bunch of different booths, checking out all the pointless gadgets he could buy for his stream

you’re the one to stop him from doing so

“TUBBO IT’S LITERALLY OVER TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, STOP. DONT GET IT.”

“WHY NOT?? IT WILL BE COOL FOR MY STREAM AND I WILL USE IT EVERYDAY”

“okay theoretically speaking, how the hell are you going to even bring it home? which—let me remind you—is across the country for you and not to mention the giant ocean separating america and the uk”

“free ship-pang!!!”

“i hate to break it to you tubbo but there is no way you can get free shipping on a FIVE FOOT PC. it’s nearly as tall as you! what are you even gonna do on it, hack the government???”

the arguments are all lighthearted but eventually you give in and let him splurge over a thousand dollars in different devices he claimed he “needed”

i could honestly see him visiting the beaches in san diego and going for a swim or even renting out a boat to use for a bit :D

also he’d bring benson along with him and taking a bunch of scenic photos with it in them

i have a feeling he’s the type to schedule a spontaneous meet & greet because he was bored & gets in trouble for causing a mob in a certain part of the convention

he’s like “oh god, i did not expect this many of the bois to show up AHAHAH oops”

tubbo would def pull a lilypichu and bring his melodica or ukulele and play themes while following random people/cosplayers

at the end of the day, you’d find his bag just stuffed with crap he either got for free or bought in the convention

“how did you get all that stuff? i was with you all day??? and it’s only the first day of the convention, hello?? it looks like you’ve been collecting as if twitchcon has went on for a week already!”

“HA i have my ways, do not underestimate my powers”

lani would probably tag along for the vacation honestly

like whenever someone comes up to her giving her gifts/asking for pics, you and tubbo would tease her about how famous she is

and i dunno but something about tubbo just gives me this amusement park energy and going to legoland and spending the whole day there since it’s near by and because he can

ranboo

he is like a beacon in a sea of people, that’s it .

i honestly just see him causing as much chaos as the other two

ranboo would probably like take someone’s camera whether if they’re streaming or if it’s for the vlog, hold it up high, and point the camera directly above someone’s face

it did not matter how tall you were and if you had platform shoes on, ranboo was a skyscraper next to you

“HAHAH this is how i see you from this height, this is funny”

then he shows you the vid of the recording of him getting like an aerial view of your face

like you see your nose and all your pores and just overall a bad angle to be captured in

“OH GOD RANBOO DELETE THAT, ITS HORRIFIC”

i dunno why but i feel like he’d jump scare every person that was cosplaying as his minecraft character from behind for some reason

“BOO!”

“ranboo i’m not even remotely dressed as your skin—”

“don’t worry i’m practicing it’s fineee”

“you’re like the height of 2 people combined, i think you will be fine as is. you even intimidated the security at the front”

i feel like if he had his own panel he’d like pull up some undertale song in the middle of it and scare all the people in the crowd

“lore but in real life”

probably would get some matching keepsake with you from artist alley/the booths!

i could imagine like a cute keychain or smth :D

i feel like he’s the type to like randomly volunteer as a participant for those mini events in a booth thinking it would be funny but regrets it the moment he’s on stage

after introductions the presenter is like “okay ranboo, you will be given a random meme prompt above your head you won’t be able to see until after and you will have to make a random face to compliment it!”

and you can just tell by his facial expression he’s just thinking

oh god what have i gotten myself into

what is this game? who came up with this idea?

you’d laugh at him the whole time, even after he’s off the stage and finished with that small fiasco

“that was horrible. never again.”

“AHAHAH IT LOOKED SO AWKWARD YOU DID GREAT”

“I CROSSED MY EYES AND PUFFED MY CHEEKS BECAUSE I COULDNT THINK OF ANY OTHER FACIAL EXPRESSION. THE PROMPT ENDING UP BEING ‘WHEN TWITTER CANCELS YOU FOR USING PLASTIC STRAWS.’ AND WHEN I SAW WHAT IT WAS—LITERALLY WHAT KIND OF GAME–”

“I GOT PICTURES AND EVERYTHING ITS PERFECT AHAHAHAH”

wilbur soot

honestly with wilbur it’s slightly more chill

he already experienced twitchcon before so he’s just glad to see his friends again after so long

insists that you explore the convention yourself rather than sticking with him the whole time but you do anyway!

wilbur would probably have like a mini concert and gets you front row seats with the rest of the group

but that doesn’t mean before it that you’re not helping him set up

“y/n please– my amp is so heavy, i can carry it”

“don’t worry! i’m strong” :D

and musically talented or not, he will probably bring you and the rest of his friends up to stage to just vibe and sing a bunch of random acoustic songs

it’s not like some big concert hall stage,, i imagine more like a casual thing w a slightly higher platform from the ground yk?

after spending a long day at the convention he’d also bring everyone across the city to la jolla or smth !

you’d all probably have dinner there and chill, watching the pretty sunset

“this place is really pretty but oh my god im gonna lose my breath hiking up this stupid hill, please slow down”

and wilbur is like ??? because he’s completely fine with his long legs and everything

“just walk faster”

“no, you walk slower”

AHAHAH and for context traversing through la jolla by walking around the town is a bit hard since it’s basically on a bunch of hills (walking up from the beach to a restaurant actually is actually sm work, trust me ive been there)

wilbur honestly doesn’t spend that much time in the actual convention center, he’s probably sightseeing a bit of san diego with you instead

but i could imagine him staying at the tabletop games area playing dnd or smth

“c’mon y/n, come join!”

“uhh i’m not sure, i’m not the best at roleplay and...”

“it’s fine don’t worry!”

he’d pull you in with him and end up enjoying yourself even if it was your first time

and if you’re of age, you’d be wilbur’s +1 at the twitch partner party and make sure mans doesn’t too drunk

if it’s not too late in the night, you two would chill at the beach after the party

it’s just a nice, calming moment after all the loud music mixed with hundreds of conversations at the party

also something about like taking polaroids pictures with wilbur just seems to go hand in hand for me

i’m not sure why but you will be taking lots of pics with wilbur for sure (not necessarily you both in the photo, but of sceneries as well while you’re together!)

philza

literally a dad on vacation with his children, it doesn’t matter how old you are

need sunscreen? surprisingly has it

want a snack? probably has a small granola bar somewhere in his bag

but same with wilbur, he’s more chill like this isn’t his first time at twitchcon

omg he’d def bring you to the artist alley and just buy a bunch of fanart and stuff tho

“oh wow look phil, someone made a giant poster of the dream smp and shit!”

“holy shit that’s so good what the fuck!”

and he’s like rushing to that artist’s stall to buy a poster or print

idk why but phil seems like the person to know where he’s going all over the convention center

he probably had a copy of the directory map but yk

you just have trouble reading it bc all the signs seem to be misleading to you

nothing really crazy screams out to me of what phil would do at twitchcon besides like go to a few events, spend a bunch of time w his friends, etc

HOWEVER i could see him wasting a lot of his time at the gaming area and testing new games that are currently on the works of being developed

like “woah y/n, this vr game is sick, you should try it out!”

ngl i feel like phil would plan a visit to disneyland for everyone, like he gets the tickets and everything but once you’re at the park it’s free reign, y’all go everywhere with not much of a plan

the minors would try to cheap out phil and pay less than the others even though everyone else fully paid phil back and everything LMAO

ok but if he’s feeling nice, phil will buy everyone cotton candy/pretzels :D

and if you’re not hungry, he’d at least get you a mickey balloon

HE WILL HAVE MATCHING MICKEY EARS WITH MUMZA YES .

ALSO STAYING FOR THE FIREWORKS THOUGH OMG

just in general, best idea phil had for taking everyone to disneyland :D

technoblade

surprisingly techno is really calm despite this being like one of his first conventions

but when he finally settles in and gets comfortable, he’s showing the same energy

if you’re playfully yelling, he will yell back

however there’s still those awkward moments that are unavoidable

idk why but something about him makes me think that if you feel tired and want to go back to your hotel room, he’d go with you just to make sure you get there safe

he probably also needs a break from being around everyone else for a moment too LMAO

i could also see him searching far and wide in the artist alley for fanart of himself AHAHAH

walking around with him in the convention consists of someone yelling “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” every 5 minutes but you don’t really mind

something about him makes me think he’ll be forced into playing minecraft twitch rivals along with the rest of sbi or smth

and he’s like “oh god, i’m going to be on stage? and people will see my face while i play minecraft?”

“i’m sure it will be fun!”

“i mean i like being competitive and feeding my ego, but i’m not that desperate.. well”

do i imagine techno getting easily tired of being surrounded by a bunch of people and just going back to his hotel room with phil and watching some anime with him? yes

and will you watch even if you have no idea what’s going on? also yes

i feel like after a while of you guys hanging out in techno’s room, the rest of the gang will just slowly join you guys

like eventually everyone is there; you, techno, phil, wilbur, niki, tommy, tubbo, ranboo, etc

and techno is like “wha– where did you guys come from?” because his room is basically packed

and niki could be like “oh we can go if you want!”

then techno just insists that she’s fine “but who let the child get in?” clearly implying tommy’s presence

“OI!!”

eventually techno gives in with the company and someone gets a bunch of board games to play from the front desk

lots of yelling and laughing for sure

when it becomes late at night, techno is like half conscious, you’re on your phone, wilbur is staring out the window & enjoying the night view, tommy is passed out on the couch from tiredness, tubbo & ranboo is still wide awake quietly talking, and phil & niki are helping clean up the giant mess

eventually everyone brings themselves to go back to their own room except tommy who won’t budge

you give techno a look and he immediately understands what you were thinking

he rushes to the bathroom to fill up two cups with ice cold water and handed one to you

“on three?”

“okay.. one”

“two”

“three!”

then both of you pour the water on the poor child’s face

he jolts awake and saying a string of curses

“what the fuck techno? y/n too?”

“get out” is the only think techno says that before tommy rushes out with his stuff and you leave right after

a/n: i honestly can’t wait until conventions open up again though,, phil and ranboo were talking about vidcon earlier and omg.

also i kinda want to take in tommy requests but i’m not sure??? it would be both cc! and c! x gn!reader for sure tho. i love writing him to bits but who knows, maybe i’ll only stick to my ideas,, or not. send in a tommy x reader request, might do it, might not, but he’s my fav cc if you can’t tell so! :D (i dunno if i will keep it strictly platonic, but unrequited crushes and stuff are fun to write hehe,,)

edit: let’s hope i fixed all the grammar mistakes LMAO we love writing late at night :) /s /hj

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au doyoung late birthday post for mr. kim! i am never on time for these posts, apologies.  find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei

a sinking feeling has you rooted to the floor. staring at the lock of your front door as someone knocks politely over and over again.

“what are you doing?”

your mother’s voice gusts past you like a breeze, she leans over your frozen figure and turns the knob.

you step back to avoid being hit by the door and dread the light that washes over your mothers face

“doyoung! come in!”

he steps through and all you catch is a bit of side profile, hidden behind the gigantic plant he’s holding

“oh! that’s the orchid your mother was just up in a fit about? come here sweetie, place it on the kitchen table -”

his footsteps echo and you shrink a little, he didn’t even look at me. 

you’re thankful for your mothers insolent obsession with being a good host and trudge your way back to your room

doyoung is in your house. 

which is weird, the first time he was in your house - you knew, obviously, but he was uninvited. your mother didn’t welcome him through the door.

now - for the past month - after both his mother and yours had come to a unbreakable bond over their indoor houseplants 

doyoung has very much been a presence, an invited presence, a presence everyone but you seemed to be delighted about

“he’s such a nice boy, he’s spending his summers tutoring younger kids and i see him biking all around town.”

your mother gushes almost every time at dinner after doyoung leaves - delivering whatever ailing plant his mother has sent to yours to fix and play botanist with

you pick at your food

yeah, he’s a nice boy. that’s what makes this all so much worse.

now - you’re laying on your sheets with your hand on your stomach and staring up at the wall thinking very much the same thought.

he’s so nice, and so perfect, and everything anyone ever dreams of. why am i such an idiot for not wanting that?

you drum your fingers and again spiral back into the memory that keeps itself wedged between you and him like a piece of food that’s stuck so sternly between teeth, no pushing at it with your tongue helps.

summer starts in ten days, officially you know - by the university calendar. you’re supposed to be focusing on a final paper for some elective politics class you took, but you’re not. you’re staring at the back of doyoung’s neck. he sits in front of you for most lectures.

“hey, do you know anything about this military-first politics and nuclear armament essay prompt the professor gave us?”

doyoung turns slowly, blinking at you from behind his thin-wired classes, “yeah - it’s been the topic of discussion and reading for like a week.”

you know you sound kind of stupid to even ask - but you will admit, politics isn’t your thing and it seems to really be doyoungs - so you smile, with a please pity me kind of look in your eye. doyoung sighs, but he gets up and slides into the seat beside you - opening up the half blank word document on your laptop.

that’s it. that’s all it was going to be. doyoung helping you skid by, so that your summer isn’t ruined by a shitty grade. 

but that’s not what happens. at all. 

doyoung instead spends a lot of time helping you write a good enough paper to pull through a B-. 

that means a lot of alone time in the library, in study hall, in the empty halls of the school buildings where classes have ended and no one is around.

it’s a lot of being shoulder to shoulder with him, realizing how nice he always smells - how long his fingers are when they type - how he doesn’t have a significant other because no one except his friends ever end up interrupting you.

it’s the day after you get your grades for the semester, something about getting the paper back sparks a fire in you

you scope doyoung out at the coffeeshop and exclaim that you and him did it!

a couple of heads whip around, did it?, you quickly add some mumbling about the paper.

doyoung laughs, it’s the first time you’ve heard the genuine sound, because most of the time he just makes a half-sided smirk or chuckle.

you buy him an iced latte as repayment and somehow end up walking out of there with side by side.

doyoung asks if you live near by if you don’t dorm, you say you do. he does too. that’s weird - you’ve never seen him around the neighborhood.

after that you pretend it’s a blur. because truth be told it isn’t.

you and doyoung are going to be taking the same train anyway, why not take it together. you and doyoung are going to know the same little places around town, why not talk about them.

why not? why not? why not? 

why not invite him inside when you’re back in your hometown, why not lead him up to your room just so he can see it and why not kiss him when he leans over you.

people your age do it all the time, they hookup. that’s the only answer to that stupid hanging ‘why not?’

so when you felt doyoung’s fingers graze down your side and he’d clumsily gotten his glasses off just in time for you to pull his shirt up over his head 

you were convinced it meant nothing. you were convinced he thought the same.

then it all happens and you can’t take it back. 

especially not the part where you’re laying on your bed, just like you are now, waiting for doyoung to start gathering his things and instead a hand loops around your sweaty waist.

“aren’t you going to leave?”

the words blurt out of your mouth before you even think about it. 

the tension that stalled in the room had been so horrible you swore you’d felt it seep into every pore, damn near trickling itself down the walls.

doyoung had darkened, pulled himself away from you, and disappeared before you could string together your next thought.

part of you had been relieved, the other part felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

you were just grateful the rest of the summer could easily be passed by keeping away from each other - until your mother had found her new best friend.

downstairs you can hear doyoung shuffling around with your mothers plants, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but you’re sure your mother is inviting him to stay and eat with you. asking doyoung about his amazing future plans to become a lawyer. enthralled by everything he is as a child and that you, most likely, are not.

when he finally leaves and the commotions die down you can’t get up

this is the most confusing moment. 

not the whole ignoring each other when he pops over, not the whole reliving the past from just a glimpse. 

it’s why - when it happened, you had been so content with it just staying nothing - you had been the one to make that decision for the both of you

yet

why does it seem like you’re wallowing in it, clinging to it, imaging it all over

every time he comes over

because you didn’t just want a hook-up. you wanted doyoung and were playing it off because having a crush on him isn’t worth it right?

your mind coils itself through a storm

you thought he only wanted to sleep with you too, because the thought of someone as good as doyoung liking you just doesn’t make sense?

despite the summer heat, you feel cold

you’re not good enough to actually be liked, to be the person doyoung chooses for something more than just your-

your phone rings and you sit up so fast it gives you a headache, you feel around and bring it to your ear without checking the number

“hello?”

“our mothers are trying to set us up on a date.”

you want to be anywhere in the world, but here. 

doyoung’s blank expression doesn’t let you know if he feels the same, but the way he won’t get in at least eight feet of you is telling enough.

you’re in his backyard, well technically you’re in his neighbors backyard, because he doesn’t want to be visible behind the hedges

rather be caught dead than be next to me, right? 

you shrill at yourself and try to bury the wince you make internally

“i think you should just tell them you have another boyfriend.”

“i can’t lie to my mother.”

you start and doyoung watches you chew on your lower lip and retreat defensively a step back

“why not?”

“she’s noisy - she’ll find out. she’ll insist until i die to meet this ‘other boyfriend’. plus i’m not a good liar.”

“really? could have fooled me.”

doyoung straightens himself as he says that, eyes unblinking behind the frames of his glasses

i probably deserve that. well actually-

“doyoung, i never promised you anything when we-”

the words wilt and doyoung suddenly looks over his shoulder.

“you’re right, you never promised me anything. im the one who was a fool for ever thinking it was something.”

you look at the grass. 

you wonder, if you had not said that one sentence - aren’t you going to leave - would this summer be different?

would you and doyoung be spending every second together, holding each other at the beach? kissing under the fireworks? sharing ice-cream and diving into pools filled of water and your laughter?

the thought blooms something in your chest

i wish - i wish it was that.

“you say i should lie, but you’re pretty good at it too doyoung.”

“excuse me?”

“it’s not like you - it’s not like you really wanted it to be anything more than it was.”

you think the grass is going to burst into flames with how hard you’re concentrating on it.

“what, you’re telling me-” you swallow “you’re telling me you actually wanted to be with me after? our mothers are trying to get us to go on a date and you called me out here just to avoid that.”

he leans forward

“if you are trying to make me the only guilty party here-”

he’s closer and you feel your voice shake a little, but you try to push to the end of your thought.

“im not, you never made any effort to make it seem like you had any genuine emotion so am i so wrong for just assuming it was just se-”

his hands, large and gentle, manage to find your shoulders and doyoung presses his lips to yours 

you stiffen from the external shock, but then relax under the light grip

his breath smells sweet, like he’s been chewing bubblegum, he’s wearing the same cologne he does at university

“i don’t just sleep with people.” 

he whispers against your mouth

“nothing against it, but i don’t think there’s a point to sharing something intimate with someone who i don’t want in every possible way.”

when you and doyoung agree to go on a date - both your mothers lose it. they’re convinced you’re soulmates.

although you and doyoung both agree they’re thinking way too far ahead in the future - it doesn’t mask the fact that the attraction that ends up forming between you two is undeniable

doyoung is so determined and intently goal orientated that you would think there isn’t the capacity to have fun in one bone in his body, but that’s not true

when he’s comfortable, he’s charming and full of humor - he makes you double over with laughter more than you could have imagined

and you aren’t as spacey and shy as doyoung might have assumed either, you have a competitive streak and you make doyoung feel like this is the summer of his life

the summer of his life that someone could probably make a decent coming of age film out of

he brings it up after you two exit a movie that was just about the same topic and you look down at your hands intertwined and shake your head

“no they’d never cast the right people to play us.”

doyoung sees the reflection of the milky way in your eyes, but he doesn’t say it

“no one on this planet is like you.”

he returns this sentiment with a small kiss that bumps this glasses against the bridge of your nose.

you get nervous sometimes when you think about how the summer started, it’s not like you’re living in the middle ages where intimacy is a sin before eternal commitment or anything

no you just get nervous because the reason you ever even made that situation as bad as it was, was because of your insecurity

does doyoung actually like me? did two weeks of being together at school make him realize something about me is worth it?

you can’t ask him that - even though sometimes you want to, so you can explain why you hadn’t just rolled over and nuzzled yourself into the dip of his chest

much like you do now - you fit so perfectly right between his arms

instead it sometimes gnaws at you until doyoung is cleaning his glasses over your sink and you’re sitting in the bathtub looking at him

your parents are ironically over at doyoungs for some wine party or whatever and although your mothers are in awe about you two being “a cute lil couple” 

they see that - cute, part of it makes you snort. you and doyoung sometimes act more mature than they do.

“i always knew you were staring at me in lecture.” he starts and a little smirk pulls at his long lips

you flick some of the water at him and he leans against the counter

he doesn’t like baths, he prefers showers, but he still stays in the room with you when you take them 

“i wasn’t staring at you.”

“you were staring at the back of my neck.”

you look away because fair, not like he spends a lot of time looking away from the professor.

“so i knew you liked me, or something about me. that’s why it hurt.”

“when we-”

“yes and i like being logical, so not having a real answer for why that all happened like it did still haunts me.”

he tilts his head and you see the line of his thin collarbones through his shirt

“i thought you’d say it first.”

he blinks

“i thought you’d say something like, that was cool. ill see you at uni come fall. and then leave. so i mean, i didn’t even say go leave - i asked, aren’t you going to leave?”

doyoung is smart so he gets what you’re saying in the most roundabout way possible

he walks over and squats down, leans over the ridge of the bath to kiss you and doesn’t complain when you bring your soapy hands up to cradle his neck

“im sorry i did leave, i should have just said what i felt right there.” 

he mutters and you nod. you should have said it too.

when you and doyoung graduate and he goes on to law school and you start working, you almost break up - twice - because of the stress

but somehow neither of you can ever ask the other one

aren’t you going to leave?

because neither of you ever really wants to.

so you don’t, you stay through all the hardships, through every argument and bump in the road. 

you stay, you choose to stay and so does he and you might not even fall asleep next to each other on some days but the heat of the person you love is always there.

and then doyoung gets his first big promotion at his job, runs all the way home with the news and ends up breathing hard and talking nonsense to you in your shared kitchen

“you need a shower.”

you say, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he shakes his head, no. he needs a bath.

you lean back against his chest, stronger and broader as he’s aged. 

he looks down at you and even the eyebags that have gotten darker with all that work he does don’t do anything to make him less attractive

you peck his chin, because it’s what you can reach.

“if we sit here any longer we’re going to prune.”

“are you going to be the first one to leave?”

he asks and you shake your head. 

you’ll sit here forever if that’s what it takes.

on the counter of the bathroom, there’s one of the houseplants your mothers keeps shipping to you. 

you don’t notice that it’s the same orchid that doyoung carried into your house all those years ago, when you thought he hadn’t even looked at you when your mother opened the door.

he curls a strand of your wet hair around his finger.

he had looked at you, quickly, but he had done it. 

even half covered by orchid leaves, you’d made his mouth dry. 

“no seriously though - we will prune.”

“i’ll get up if you get up?”

i’ll never leave, the only way i’ll leave is if it means im taking you with me. 

[ikwhatyouaremikewheeler]

Bag of bones: Steve Harrington and sorta Eddie Munson

Warnings: NSFW, toxic relationships, hallucinations again, and angst.

Genre: angst

Summary: Steve had moved on from Billy, but he doesn't seem so sure of that when Billy haunts his nights.

_______________________________________________

'Im all used up pretty boy, over and over again. My nail colors are wearing off, see my hands, pretty boy. What do they tell you? 'cause I've looked down at them not knowing why.'

Sex, mindless hook-ups, that's all his relationship was with Billy. Being used over and over again, in the back of his Camero, or during late nights in Steve's room, which always ended in heartbreak, and hopefulness. Hope that Billy would let him stay a bit longer, of that he would stay in return. Only to be met with being shoved out of the car, or his door slamming as Billy went down the stairs, leaving Steve alone.

'And after everything's done and I'm all undone you can hear my high heels walking on. Clickity- clacking through the night, carrying my bag of bones.'

When Things had been cut off with Billy, Steve hadn't chosen to do so. So instead he ran into the comfort of Eddie. Comfort he had rejected at first, denying that he was upset. Heartbroken, scared even. after a while he had learned to accept it, falling Into Eddie's welcoming arms as they got closer.

Then the star court incident had happened and Steve was a wreck go put it simply. He hadn't left his room, for days, only to shower and eat, to let people know he was alive. At least the shell of him was.

'Fluorescent store lights, you shine through the night. Illuminate my pores and you tear me apart. Mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight? I'm tired of this searching, would you let me let go?'

He sought comfort in Eddie, how he didn't have to talk in the moments, and Steve could just enjoy his company, arms wrapped around each other, legs wrapped together in a mess. Son after was when the Hallucinations had started. At night when Eddie had to go home and Steve was alone, on late nights left to think about anything. When Billy popped back into his mind ( not that he ever left) taunting Steve about their last night together.

'i know my room is a mess, over and over again, I tell myself I'll clean tomorrow, just move the stuff up off the bed and do what what you came here to Do, but first open up a window for me.'

Steve had laid in bed after their now close to Daily meet ups, running a hand through his hair, Billy sitting at the post of his bed, lighting up a cigarette between his lips, Steve glancing over to billy. Watching the Flame from the lighter illuminate his features, light barely available from the dawn outside. "you need something Harrington?" Billy half grumbled as he exhaled, pulling on his jacket as his eyes focused on the window outside. Steve nodded slowly, sitting up from under his sheets, fully intending to ask him to stay a bit longer, but instead "I love you—" the shock on Steve's face was evident, that wasn't supposed to slip out, he wasn't even sure why he said it. Billy gave him a look and raised his eyebrow. "the fuck did you say?" And well.. that was the end of that.

'And let the cool air in, feel the night slip in, as of softly glides along your back and I hope you leave right before the sun comes up, so I can watch it alone.'

Steve had pushed everyone away after, seemingly even Eddie. Because even while he was Dead Steve couldn't escape Billy. His mocking, the taunting. His words from the last few nights flashing through his head 'You thought I loved you? It was pathetic, you were unpopular and had no friends, and I needed a quick fuck.' or 'He's just using you, exactly like I was. As soon as you spread your legs for him it's over.' it hurt, to hear it, even if it was the truth or not, he couldn't bear to listen to it, and he couldn't help but agree to an extent. Steve didn't want to push people away, but he couldn't be used again, now he had to recover from Billy all over again, the damage he had done.

'Fluorescent store lights, you shine through the night, Illuminate my pores and you tear me apart. Mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight? I'm tired of searching, would you let me let go?'

It had gotten easier, to ignore the Hallucinations at night, no matter how much it hurt, or how badly Steve had craved Billy's touch again, he was gone, dead, and not good for him. So instead he stayed close to Eddie, putting as much focus as he could into him, trying to distract himself, fo ignore the doubt in his mind. To get better, to be happy. And it had worked, the voice had gone away, and he could be with Eddie without the doubt, the worrying and fear of him leaving like Billy had. But..

Cycles repeat, just like ocean waves.

'And I can take a little more, let's shake this poet out of the best just a, just a little bit more let's shake this poet out of the beast.'

THE END

[h2bakugou]

aaa i heard ur requests are opeeen can i ask for a bakugo oneshot where he feels annoyed after an argument with deku and he comes to the reader's dorm for cuddles?

a/n: yes!! this is v cute <3 i need some soft bakugou bc i just woke up and im so tired lmfao and all i want is to cuddle with this fool.

summary: after an argument with deku, bakugou storms into your room. he doesn’t say much but his neediness speaks loud and clear for him.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1.1k

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

“Stupid fuckin’ Deku.”  Bakugou groans as he slams the door to the gym. Bakugou was angry, upset, and certainly didn’t want to deal with any other bullshit today.

Deku was almost positive that was going to happen, but he was just trying to be honest. Bakugou wasn’t as arrogant as he had been being, but there was still that bit of arrogance inside of him that needed a spark to ignite.

Storming off after having enough of the green-haired kid that he refused to believe was passing him, Bakugou only wanted one thing.

You.

He didn’t care if you were busy, he just need you. He needed to be close to you. He hated how he melted around you, how he was just able to become putty in your hands.

At first, he thought he was bruising his ego just being around you, but he learned real quick that you weren’t going to take any of that shit from him. If he wanted to be around you then he should, you weren’t going to put up with him being an egotistical jerk all because he wanted to look all big and tough.

That being said, Bakugou was naturally an egotistical jerk. But somehow, and Bakugou doesn’t like to give you all the credit but he knows it’s all your doing, you changed him.

He may not show or talk about it, but if he’s in a good mood, chances are he probably talked to you that day. You guys text often, so much so that he’s even given you a goofy nickname in his phone.

And maybe his camera roll is filled with those pictures he took of kissing you, vowing to never let anyone see them.

Back to the point, Bakugou is one (1) fool in love for you.

Entering the dorm, Bakugou is emitting waves. And everyone in the common room can feel them. The pure tension and anger seeping out every visible pore on Bakugou’s body is palpable as he stomps toward the stairs.

“Bakugou you feelin’ alright?” Kirishima is quick to ask, Kaminari and Sero also perking up at the discomfort their friend seems to be in.

Ignored.

Bakugou doesn’t even glance in their direction to give them some sort of recognition, which he’d apologize for later but right now, he needed to see you. He wasn’t playing games anymore. He was angry, he didn’t want to talk, or try and even seem in a better mood.

Your scared half to death when Bakugou slams your door open, causing you to jump out of your skin as you look over at him in the doorway. The door is shut almost as fast as it opens and he approaches you.

“Hey, you could’ve-”

Bakugou practically picks you up and throws you on the bed and at first thought, your face begins to feel hot.

But as soon as Bakugou kicks his shoes off and climbs in bed beside you, wrapping his arms over you, hugging you close to him, burying his head in your chest, you begin to see the real reason he needed you on the bed.

Cuddling.

You follow suit and wrap your arms around him, tangling your legs with his, running your fingers through his head, giving him a light scalp massage. His hums of approval, which are extremely quiet, are just loud enough for you to hear.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, knowing you probably won’t get an answer, but you still wanted to ask, even if you’re just acknowledging he’s not okay. Bakugou doesn’t respond right away. A few minutes pass in utter silence before he speaks against you, his cheek pressed against your collar, his lips blowing breath across your neck.

“Stupid Deku. He’s just getting on my last fuckin’ nerve. I’m tired of him acting like he’s not better than anyone. He’s so fucking humble that it’s irritating.” Bakugou groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but you knew it was best not too. A part of Bakugou was still very much childhood friends with Deku, even if that part of Bakugou was sandwiched between the repression of that memory and issues that he probably needs to bring up with a therapist.

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You ask, rubbing his head some more, your fingers twisting the tufts of his hair lightly, closing your eyes as you snuggle next to your boyfriend.

A grunt of approval from Bakugou is all you need as you give your input on the situation.

“You guys are on the same level, but completely different speeds. I don’t think you realize how influential you are to your friends, like Kiri or Kami. Deku’s got his own way of bringing his friends up, and being humble may just be his way of doing that.” You explain.

Bakugou’s crimson eyes flick up to look at your face, and he’s now aware that your eyes are closed. He admires how peaceful you look. 

“Even if you are right, it’s still annoying.” Bakugou mumbles against you as he moves, now burying his head in the crook of your neck, placing a few sweet kisses against your skin.

“And that’s okay. Your feelings are completely valid.” You hug him closer, enjoying the feeling of him beside you. You didn’t get to cuddle often, but when you did, you cherished every second of it.

Bakugou didn’t speak after that. And soon he realized your head scratches had stopped as well. When he glanced up, you were sound asleep, and every feeling of anger or unpleasantness just melted away.

In that very moment, he held you impossibly closer to him, snuggling into you as much as he could, even going as far as to throw a blanket over the two of you, the one his parent’s had gifted you.

Falling asleep beside you was easy, Bakugou was so at peace he just drifted right off to sleep.

- - -

Upon waking up, Bakugou is shocked to see you still asleep. You’re laying your head on his chest now, having switched positions a few times while sleeping. 

He doesn’t want to move in fear of waking you up, but he figures it’s best to try and get back to his dorm. But after second thought, he decides to stay. Setting an early alarm to wake up to so he can get ready for school.

Bakugou begins to absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair, closing his eyes again. You nuzzle into his warm touch, scooting closer to him.

It’s the relief Bakugou needed. Your touch, your voice, your presence alone seemed to soothe him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[dreamii-yume]

food play with daddy trey

food play with daddy trey

food play with daddy trey

Hi! This is still the continuation of Trey’s Birthday Crumbs, despite the fact that it had already passed! ヽ(；▽；)ノ Something happened at Yume’s place that made her unable to finish the rest of his Birthday Crumbs in time so~! Hope you don’t mind if you receive it one day late! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): I’ll be posting Birthday Crumbs that I was unable to post yesterday because I don’t want to settle for just one Birthday Crumb for Daddy Trey! (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀) im hornii

It started out as simple, childish game of who can smear icing over the other.

You, who thought it would be fun to slap a piece of delicious cake onto the birthday celebrant’s face, was laughing throughout, despite the look Trey had given you right after. Never did you ever thought that he’ll scoop out a piece himself and ran them down on your cheeks. Dumbfounded, of course, you thought it’s just best for you to steal back your honor and let’s just say it all goes down hill from there.

Thank god Riddle and the rest of the Heartslabyul students wasn’t anywhere near. If Ace and Deuce were there, it’ll turn out to be a literal food war with Cater filming all of it and probably uploading it to Magicam where the rest of the world can see the chaos that had befallen Trey’s birthday party. Of course, it would definitely end after the Dorm Leader himself had decapitated you all off your head, risking another comedic timing of an overblot. Luckily for the two of you, none was ever present, probably the reason why you chose this time of all time to play a prank on your senior. With a few wasted confectionery thrown here and there, the both of you had reached each other’s limit and ammo being the food.

Bursting into a fit of laughter, you fell down on the soft couch with Trey still straddling over your stomach, ready to paint your face with icing anytime. “You’re such troublesome kid, who do you think is gonna clean all this up, huh?” Trey raised an eyebrow as if to scold you like a parent to a child, but an amused smirk was on his face. He kept you locked underneath him even as you wriggle out, laughing with your sides hurting. “Riddle’s gonna cut off both our heads if he walks in with all these mess, you know~?”

“Haha~! Don’t blame it all on me! You’re the one who fought back, Trey-senpai” You argued, wiping the tears that had escaped the sides of your eyes whilst laughing like a mad man. “All I did was to poke a little icing on your handsome face and you went to slam a whole piece on me twice as much! Of course, it would turn out like this!”

Trey twitched slightly at the way you casually complimented his looks. “A little, you say~?” A slight vein popped out of his forehead, irritated by your lie as he remembered how that little piece of an icing had on basically knocked his glasses off the first time it landed. “Since when did you become so cheeky, huh?”

You shrugged, smiling ever so smugly, an action you rarely give and yet, Trey felt as if it’s an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while. “Who knows~?” You said, essentially ignoring his point before turning to the side and marvelling at the mess. “Uwah...This will take forever...”

As you were distracted trying to come up with ways to clean the room faster, Trey began to realize his current position. Hovering above you with your body placed between his legs on the couch, his hands supporting his weight so he doesn’t fall off. What a suggestive position and yet, you’re so relaxed and laid-back about it, as this was the most normal position to be in. Almost like you’re not being held down by a guy who can eat you up if he so desires.

With all those icing all over your face, neck, arms, and even thighs, it’s possible, you’re not making yourself any more safer here. Trey glanced down at your body, your shirt were slightly hitched up, showing your soft-looking abdomen. He gulped, any skin exposed on you was making him unusually hungry, like he just wants to take a bite out of you. “Ah, by the way, Trey-senpai, could you please get off now? You’re getting a little-“ You turned back to Trey, only for him to lean in close to your face and licked some icing on your cheeks, like a wild animal. “...heavy...”

“W-What!?” You exclaimed as you began to panic in your spot, moving excessively until Trey gripped your shoulders down. You blushed profusely as he began to go down where you neck is and shivered as you can feel his tongue lapping against your skin. “A-Ah...! T-Trey-senpai...!?”

One of his hand went down, causing you to let out a squeak as you felt how cold it is once it went underneath your shirt, caressing your stomach. Trey finally lifted his head up, his eyes carrying an air of seduction in them. “Sorry, you look so appetizing that I got a bit hungry, you see...” He said, making you blink in confusion as you began to process what that means. He sat up, still won’t leave from his position of being above you with a smirk that never seem to disappear from his face. “But since you’re the one who started all of this...”

“I’ll have you take responsibility for it.” He finished as he pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare torso.

“Eek...!?” You sqeaked in response, automatically clenching on the sofa sheets. Nervous sweat poured out of your pores as you looked up at Trey. “H-Hey...? Trey-senpai, um...”

Reaching out for something beyond your vision, Trey holds out his hand, showing you what seems to be a fair bottle size of honey. You blinked, was that there the whole time or...? You have no idea on where he got that from. As you racked your mind trying to figure on what he was going to do with the bottle, a shiver went up your spine as he began to drizzle some on your bare skin of your stomach. “Trey-senpai!?” You called out again, shifting as he began to spread the sticky substance everywhere he could.

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad~” He said as he suddenly buried his sticky fingers inside your mouth, earning a muffled whine. He pinched your tongue, forcing your taste buds to taste the sweet liquid. “Honey is good for you.”

You accidentally moaned under his touch, causing a small but smug smile to appear on your senior face but chose to not say anything. Instead, he went to focus back down on your honey-covered abdomen. Sticking out his tongue, he gave it a long sensual lick, enjoying how you practically melt under his touch. You kept on letting out muffled noises as his fingers kept on digging against his throat, spreading the flavor inside your little cavern. Though, you did found your own tongue unconsciously lapping up his fingers, unable to resist the sweet taste of honey from them.

Trey kept on licking you up until there were no more honey left on you, just his own saliva marking you the same spot on where you are. His fingers teased your tongue, enjoying the little whining sounds you make as you struggled underneath him. Licking his lips, he looked up at you before pulling his fingers out, smirking at how flushed you look. “...Well? Are you not gonna fight back~?” Trey raised his eyebrow, a sign of challenge, provoking your ability to act. “It felt and tasted good, didn’t it?”

You glared at him slightly, pouting at how arrogant he looked, but were too dumbfounded to even reply an equally smart comment. Seeing how lost you are for words, Trey chuckled before grinning in victory. “Maybe next time, don’t play with your food, okay?” He said, surprising you as he hoisted your bra upwards, revealing how perked your nipples are. You gasped as he sticky hands grasped one plum breast, moaning as he entangled your nipple around his fingers. He gave the other a fine lick, making them harder by coating them around with his own saliva. “...Because this is what happens to bad kids like you who do.”

You reminded yourself not to take Trey-senpai lightly anymore from that point on. Unless you want to be mistaken as a delicious cake that everyone wants to feast on at least. Everything this guy said should not be taken too seriously nor too lightly, a valuable lesson has been taught...In the hard way.

Haha! Yume doesn’t know how to food play lol I haven’t written anything for it but I thought it’s really interesting to write about it! Little research was done on this so I know how much it reeks of inexperience! (//∇//) Sorry about that~! I’ll promise to improve someday~!

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

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series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

[aster-aspera]

Oleander

Prompt was given to me by @skylarstarlight so blame her for all the angst

Relationship: Logince

Warnings: Major character death, injury, blood, betrayal, angst, technically unsympathetic roman ig? Im going to put that warning here in any case, unhappy ending

If you enjoyed please reblog <3

Roman watched Logan from the back of the tent, admiring the sharp slant of his shoulders, the way his long, curly hair cascaded down his shoulders and unveiled the soft brown skin at the back of his neck. He’d been at it for hours, poring over maps with that concentrated furrow grifted into his face, occasionally bringing up a hand to brush some stray locks out of his face, before he turned all his attention back to the mess of papers on the large hardwood table. 

Roman was technically here to stop him from working, to drag him away from staring at how badly they were losing for just a few minutes and get him to eat some dinner. And those plans were definitely still on Roman’s to-do list, but for just a moment, he let himself stare at the other. They didn’t often get quiet moments in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded them. An advisor always flurrying around Roman, a commander pestering Logan about battle plans or food supplies. Roman wanted to save this little bubble of silence for as long as it could last.

“Are you going to continue to stand there growing mushrooms or are you going to speak?” Logan piped up with a soft chuckle, apparently tired of being stared at. 

“My apologies love, I was just admiring your beauty.”

Logan gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure you have better things to do than simply watch me.”

“Nope,” Roman said brightly, wrapping his arms around Logan enthusiastically and tucking his chin over his shoulder. “Never a wrong time for that.”

Logan sighed but begrudgingly gave into the hold, placing his hands over Roman’s where they were tightly wrapped around his stomach. 

“You should eat,” Roman murmured softly as he swayed them both from side to side. Logan hummed noncommittally. “I have work,” he deflected.

“And you’re of no use to us if you pass out from hunger.”

Logan buried his head in Roman’s shoulder. “It’s not like anyone thinks I’m useful either way,” he mumbled.

Roman looked up at Logan, dislodging his head from his shoulder. “Hey now,” he said firmly, “No one thinks that. You’re really smart and you’ve helped us so much.” 

Logan didn't meet his eyes. “We should eat,” he said shortly, “I need to finish organising these supply runs.”

Roman chewed his lip uncertainly as Logan pulled away from him and headed out the tent towards the campfire, the embers dancing up to the sky in dizzying spirals. 

~

Roman paced from one side of the tent to the other, periodically pushing open the flap to gaze out at the midnight quiet camp. An occasional guard strolled passed, bowing to him before he waved them off impatiently. He huffed and flopped down on the bed, watching the faint luminance of the moon filter through the thick tent fabric. 

He jerked up at the rustling of the tent flap and relief brightened his mood as he saw Logan make his way in. The relief was quickly doused with ice cold dread at the way Logan looked, hair a ragged mess, circles under his eyes so dark they could rival Virgil, bruises and scrapes littering his long limbs. 

“Where the hell were you?” Roman burst out, concern and worry and bittersweet relief forming a toxic mixture in the back of his throat. 

Logan’s expression shuttered close and he drew his arms around himself defensively. “Leading your army, that’s what I was doing,” he hissed out.

“No you weren’t! You disobeyed orders again, you put yourself and our soldiers in danger.”

Logan looked past Roman, his expression blank and unreadable. “Of course, and the people we tried to help, what about them?”

Roman sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. “I know Lo, I know it sucks, but people are always going to get hurt. And you can’t just run out there and pretend you know better than everyone else.”

“Do you think,” Logan murmured softly, eyes still glued to where a patch of crass crept in under the walls of the tent, “that maybe we’re not the ones in the right here?” 

Roman stiffened. “I’m trying to protect my kingdom. Don’t you dare try and tell me that's wrong.”

Logan finally looked back at him, those deep, night dark eyes staring into him. “How many people have been killed in your meaningless quest of stubborness and glory, how many more people are going to lose their homes and their children? That’s your kingdom, not those spoiled nobles in their pretty palaces.”

“And what do you suggest I do then?” Roman hissed back venomously, “Just let those invaders in? So that they can lock us up in cells or behead us? Is that really what you want?”

“Maybe it is,” Logan whispered, mournful eyes boring into Roman’s. He turned on his heels and walked out the tent, coat flaring behind him, hair spilling past his shoulders like the pitch black river of Styx.

It was the last time they were together in their shared tent. An abrupt end to the cold nights they spent curled up so tight together they could barely breathe. An abrupt ending to the lazy mornings when Logan would card a hand through Roman’s hair as he read, and Roman would sleep as long as he possibly could. An abrupt end to Logan pressing kisses all over Roman’s body and telling him he was beautiful. 

Roman tried not to stare at his slender hands as they pointed out places on maps. Tried not to quail under that sharp, piercing gaze as it swept over him, barely giving him a second glance before he snapped out an order that ended up ignored. They had all noticed Logan wasn’t in good graces with the prince anymore and it seemed all they had been waiting for to right out shun and scorn him.

Every day, Roman could see the lines in Logan’s shoulder tense more, his face harden and the curious gleam to his eyes dull. 

Roman turned away every time, too much of a coward to face him.

And one day, he didn’t see him at all. Not at the meetings, not anywhere in the camp. He asked around, trying not to appear as worried as he was and the others just shrugged, refusing to meet his eye.

His bed was stripped bare from the tent he had been sharing with others, all his possessions presumably packed away and taken with him. 

Roman tried not to show his worries. Logan was a grown man after all, and he had made his position here perfectly clear. He could handle himself. 

But it didn’t stop Roman from missing his eyes and his careful touch and soothing voice. He wished things had gone differently, but he knew that one fight was merely the match that lit the fuse already soaked in kerosine. Merely the spark to set off the feelings Logan had been hiding away for so long. 

And after seeing how the others treated him, Roman couldn’t really fault him for it.

Roman slipped out of the camp, as the heavy monsoon rains gentled into a soft drizzle, the warmth of the afternoon turning the night foggy. Logan’s letter sat tucked in his pocket, held near to his heart, which was beating in a mixture of hope and apprehension. It had been four months, four months since Logan had stormed out of their tent, leaving Roman with an empty bed and an empty heart. He walked silently through the forest, the occasional leaf crunching underfoot as around him the canopy rustled from the rain it caught. He followed the familiar path from memory alone, a soft smile curling his lips as he remembered sneaking out at midnight to go watch the stars with Logan. 

He stepped into that familiar clearing, looking up at the sky in hopes he would spot some of the stars Logan had pointed out for him, but all he saw were the thick grey clouds. His eyes drifted down and he saw Logan, standing in the middle of the clearing, one single lantern casting a circle of light around him, his hair misted with rain. He brushed his glasses dry with the sleeves of his coat and placed them back on his nose. 

Roman walked up to him, unsure why Logan had asked him to come here and scared of what he would say. Logan watched him come, face blank and expressionless.

“Roman,” he greeted, and where once his name had sounded warm and fond on those lips, it now sounded cool and cordial.

“Logan,” Roman replied, and he couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, the hope that this would be an apology, that everything could go back to the way it had been.

“I’m here with an offer,” Logan said, his words formal and serious, so unlike the nicknames and jokes they used to share. “The people are tired of the war. It has only brought them pain and loss. I ask you to end it, give in now and you shall not be harmed. You and your court shall be safe and more capable rulers shall take over the kingdom.”

Roman’s heart froze at those words, uttered so matter of fact. As if the years of his life, the effort and pain he had put into winning this war and keeping his kingdom safe meant nothing. As if he was the one in the wrong here.

He had come here to hear Logan’s apology. He had expected him to admit how much he missed him and that he was wrong and then he would have taken Logan into his arms and everything could have been right again. 

But no, here he stood, resolute, so self assured and infuriating. 

A breeze blew past and the lapels of Logan’s coat lifted, revealing the crest proudly emblazoned on the flags of their enemies, the crest that Roman had been taught to hate. Fury filled him at the sight.

“You’re with them,” he growled, grabbing the coat and displaying the crest for all the world to see. The forest around them didn’t seem impressed. 

“I’m on the side with the least blood on their hands,” Logan said calmly, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “Which you have never been.”

Roman shook his head. “You’re working with the enemy. I trusted you!” His fist tightened on the thick wool fabric.

“Roman please,” Logan said softly, emotion filtering into his voice for the first time, “You’ve been taught by everyone around you that this is what you have to do, that this is your birthright, but they’re wrong. You can choose your own destiny.”

He drew himself up to his full height, looming over Roman. “Take the offer and we can leave this kingdom together. We can build our own life.”

Roman shook his head. “No,” he choked out as tears welled up in his eyes, “No! you’re just… You’re trying to trick me. You never loved me or you wouldn’t do this.”

“Roman,” Logan said gently, cloying sympathy in his voice and Roman could only feel that burning, corrosive rage in his gut, his mouth tasted sour and he could barely see through his anger. Logan gasped suddenly and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widening in shock and betrayal.

Roman let go of his coat and looked down, his mind registering the ornate handle of a familiar knife, and blood pooling on the navy vest. He looked up, mouth opening and closing mutely, as if Logan could explain. As if he could tell him why there was a knife in Logan’s gut. Why was it his knife. Plunged in so deep only the hilt still showed.

“No,” Roman whispered as Logan sank to the ground, a high keen tearing itself from his lips.  

He breathed in raggedly, hands curling on the forest floor, dirt staining those slender hands. He looked up at Roman, eyes pleading, scared. 

“Please,” he choked and Roman backed away as he reached out a hand to him, reaching for anything that could save him. Blood pooled around his body, the heavy wool of his coat darkening almost imperceptibly as the leaves around him turned red. “Roman,” he rasped and Roman had never heard Logan sound afraid like that.

He kneeled down, dirt muddying his pants and reached out to take Logan’s hand. He pulled away at how cold his skin was. 

“You betrayed me,” he whispered and Logan only continued breathing those ragged, gasping breaths, eyes staring into the middle distance. “It’s not my fault,” he said, because it couldn’t be. Logan was wrong. Logan had betrayed him.

But then why did it hurt so much?

“You never loved me!” Roman burst out. “Come on, just say something! Don’t just lie there!” He yelled because Logan was never this quiet. He always had something smart and stuck up to say. 

“Say something,” Roman pleaded and Logan shuddered, eyes glazed over as they stared up at the sky. 

Roman looked up, to a sky as dark and cloudy as Logan’s eyes. A sky that once was filled with stars and was now flat and empty.

“Logan?” he whispered softly, reaching out to take his hand. Logan didn’t react, he just stared up at that empty sky and Roman felt an ache spread in his chest as he curled his fingers around Logan’s palm, brushing off the dirt.

[xsugarysweetsx]

I was wondering if you could do a Toya/Dabi x reader.Like the reader is childhood friends with Toya and is good friends with the Todo kids in general. So when their mom goes to the hospital, the reader kinda steps in and sorta kinda fills the role of mom. Reader is really close to Shoto.(Toya and reader are in a quirk marriage)But then stuff happens.Toya becomes Dabi.Reader became a teacher @UA and goes to the training camp.Then Dabi accidentally almost kills the reader by putting her in a coma.

You’re really good with plot Anon! Also I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! But thank you for your patience❤️ please enjoy ❤️❤️ I added in something extra hopefully you like it!

Children never see the bad in the world. They’re innocent and want to always see the goo in people and the world. As a little girl you always thought going to the Todoroki’s house meant a play date. You would spend time with all of them and even Shoto.

For whatever reason it was your father always wanted you to spend time with Toya. He was the eldest and was usually quiet and kept to himself. 

One day you had come and Shoto was hurt, with a patch over his eye. Rei wasn’t home either, they told you she had gone away. She was away and wouldn’t be back for a while. Being around the same age as Toya you felt the need to fill in the role for the younger ones.

You would help them with homework, and cleaning up after themselves. Almost like an elder sister or a mother. You were all close and created your own bond together. Almost like your own little family

As time passed you were both in your teens attending school together. At the time you were both best friends, knowing each other inside and out. One day when you were at his house doing homework, your father and Enji walked in.

His father always scared you in all honesty. Not only was his size intimidating but his aura just wasn’t pleasant. Toya always knew how you felt. He had the habit of holding your hand whenever he'd come into the room comfort you. 

“What is it old man?“ Toya resented him after finding out what he had done his mother. 

“Well“ you father spoke up “We’ve talked i over and believe that it would be best if you both-”

“You’re both getting married and that’s final“ Enji cut him off “You both have exceptionally powerful quirks and will make better children“

“What?!“ you both reacted

That’s right they were forcing you both into a quirk marriage, without any explanation to you both. If anything your father basically sold you, he was known for getting into debt despite having his own business. The Todorokies had money and everyone knew. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry you. Truth was, he had feelings for you for very long time but you didn't want to ruin your relationship. on top of all that he didn't want to bring you into his method of family and possibly make your life impossible. You were too good for him, for filling the role he never knew he needed or his siblings included.

At the time you were both 16 and were to marry at 19. But that day never came, Toya had gone missing. Nothing was left about his whereabouts. When your wedding day came, it marked 3 years of him being missing. They had decided to mark him under dead, since there was no trace of him. 

Even to this day you still think about him. You didn’t want to forget his face or his voice, or anything.

============================

You stop visiting the the house hold, you called every now and then to check in. Sometimes you would visit Rei at the hospital and it gave you some tranquility.

You grew up to be a teacher at UA high school, helping students to become heroes. You heard even Shoto got into UA a well, and went to visit him. You always told him how proud you were of him, turns out even he grew as much resentment towards his father as Toya did. 

This weekend you were at the training camp with the students. Everything was going well, they were training, learning and even cooking. You look out your window and see that Bakugou was extremely good at cooking, which confused you a bit. But everyone to their own.

You were giving extra help to thos when fisoed the test with Mr.Aizawa. Everyone would always tease about how you thin had a secret thing going on. In all honesty you both acted the same towards it and brushed it off as a joke but soon it became true.

You both had a thing for each other. You didn’t believe you would have feelings like this again. The last time you did, he had disappeared from your life, like he never existed. But with Shouta it felt differnt, he made you feel like he wouldn’t leave.

Sure he never seemed to be the type to but he would hold you close and tell you as many times as you needed to what it

“I would never abandon you, ever” it was something small but it made your heart flutter. You never forget about Toya, but he would want you to be happy right?

As you walk down the hall to the class you oda by a window. From the corner of your eye you saw a tall dark figure at the window and instantly turned. You were alert and ready to defend yourself. You look around the hall and too the window. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath as you approached the window and looked outside.

Looking form side to side there was nothing and the student were outside as usual. Maybe you were seeing things. A hand landed on your shoulder which made you jump and shriek

“Hey It’s okay, it’s just me” it was shouta “are you alright you seem a little jumpy” he said in his tired husky voice

“Y-yeah im down, I just...never mind let’s get to the class” even when you walk with him you still felt uneasy, it wouldn’t leave you.

About only half hour into the lesson crashes and yelling was heard. Looking out the window your eyes widen to see blue flames swollowing the trees around you.

Blue flame....but you haven’t seen blue flames since....

“I’m going to check what’s going on. Y/N Stay here with the students” Shouta said as he ran out of the class

“Me.L/N, whats happening? Shouldn’t we go an help?”

“No, lets all stay here it’s best if we don’t split up.” All the students gathering around you. You did a headcount to make sure you age everyone. Aizawa ran back into the room on high alert

“Everyone we need to love to the next room over-“

The wall came crashing down to reveal a member of the League Of Villans. Instances kick in you step forward to protect your students. You were trying hard to concentrate but something about this man, was so familiar.

“Step aside princess, before you get hurt”

“I’m not a princess and you’re going to have to go through me first” you took your defensive stance. He hurled his blue flames at you but you block using you quirk. With all the strength you could muster you were able to push him back far enough that it was only the two of you.

Whatever it was something had stopped you from making your next move.

“What’s wring princess? Too tired to fight back?”

You didn’t answer and went for an attack, the hit would have been direct and affective but you stop.

You realize now why you know him

“Toya....” you whisper to yourself. But why was he attacking? Didn’t he recognize you? You turn to him

“Toya is me y-“ you were hurdled back into a tree by his flame. The aching throb making it hard for you to focus, crimson ran down to your chin. He came closer and kneeled in front of you.

He braved yourself for the worst to come but all you heard was a gasp

“Y-y/n....?” He said in the softest smallest voice he could. “I-is....”

“Took you long e-enough.:.” You forced a smile as your world started to spin. Not only did the impact do damage but you were loosing blood. He was hesitant to touch you, he’s down so much damage already

First leaving you so abruptly, and now this? He saw your eyes finally fall and you fall limp

“Y/N? Y/N?!” He gathered you in his arms and started to run, he didn’t know where but he was running. He eventually found Twice

“Hey bud whatcha go there” he said in his quirky attitude

“That’s doesn’t matter she’s bleeding out I need you to help me” he laid you by a bush and ripped a part of his shirt and wrapped it ape under your head.

“I need you to take her some where no one else will harm her, but make sure it’s some where one of these punk hero’s can find her” he said putting you into the arms of Twice.

He nodded and ran off, Dabi furiously wiped tears that ran down his face. He can only hope you were found and tended to. He may be who he is now but, you didn’t deserve to suffer for his decision.

————

After drawing back and leaving, Dabi stuck around for a while to make sure you were found. Aizawa was the one who found you and cradled you in his arms. Like he did at one point, he watched as you were whisked away to an ambulance. You were rushed to a near by hospital.

He would hang out by your window some night, sometimes he would break in and just sit in the chair.

He had managed to put you into a coma. At least he didn’t kill you in all but still.....it was the same you. The same one from all those years ago. The one who truest knew him. Who even recognizes him after so long.

You’ve become so beautiful over the years. He didn’t dare touch you, afraid to cause more damage. He would think...think about who thinks could have been differnt. What if he stayed and married you? Who would he be if he never left?

One night you started to stir and your monitor had started to speed up. You were waking up! He wanted to stay and hold you and apologize for everything...but he couldn’t. He heard footsteps running down the hall. He stroked your cheek one final time and ran for the window.

You skin was so soft and warm, he wanted to savor it longer. But if he did stay he would have no chance to even glance your way again.

As he was about to jump out he looked back once more to see your E/C staring at him.

“T..oya...” you said weakly. He shit his eyes and made his way back into the cruel world. Tears pores out of your eyes as you watched him leave, once again.

Maybe, just maybe you’ll meet again......

I kinda like it :). But I hope this is what you were looking for! And I’m sorry this was so late!

[lyss-alane]

Just A Man

Word count: 2288

Summary: Dean isn't able to hide from the reader anymore. “Enemies” to lovers.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: ANGST, hurt Dean, self-loathing Dean, language, 18+, drinking, age gap, Season 14 spoilers!! 

A/N: I wrote this fic in one sitting, its literally my first fanfiction. Warning, probably cringe writing!!! but its okay because I plan to improve as I write more. Please be patient with my skills, but I do hope you enjoy :)

All mistakes are mine

This is a work of fiction, must be 18+ to read

Dean was in his room, looking through old pictures again. This is where he found himself the safest, in his home with what’s left of his family around him.

He was flipping through some old polaroids he found under the seat of baby along time ago. There were pictures of Sam as a baby, Dean as a kid. There was some of John and Mary together, laughing. His favorite was the one of Mary holding Sammy, she was smiling and her face was full of love.

He had newer ones too that he charished just the same. One of him and Sam outside of Bobby’s house, working on some old Truck. There was one of Bobby drinking a beer and reading a book on that old wornout sofa of his. And then there was one of her, sitting out side on the porch swing. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and her dog Kansas sitting next to her.

Her head was thrown back in laughter because of something Sam said while taking the picture. Those two were always close. Y/N lived at Bobby’s ever sense she was a little girl. She kept the old man alive, and she became extremely close to Sam, they were the same age and attended some of school together.

Holding the picture in his hand Dean found himself smiling again. He always did when looking at her. No matter how much the two fought or disagreed, Dean couldn’t help but love the girl.

Of course she’d never shown any interest in him. Dean was way to damaged to be blessed with someone as graceful as her. The two faught like cats and dogs, and he was pretty sure she hated his guts.

Y/N stuck around with the boys once Bobby died. She was more than grateful to move around with her best friend, but the eldest Winchester kept her on her toes. Everything the green eyed man did seemed to piss Y/N off. She cared deeply for him of course, but it seemed like no matter what she did it was never enough for him.

Whether is was messing up a hunt, not following orders, or something as simple as forgetting to buy his favorite shampoo when she was on a supply run. She quickly learned to keep her distance. Dean was hard on her, but Sam always said it was how he shows he cared.

They were aquantances, not friends.

That was until last week,

Mary died.

She died tragically, everyone who knew her was hurting, but Dean was down right scary. It scared Y/N to see him like this.

Beilive it or not she knew the man inside and out, she knew how good his heart was and all the horrible shit he went through. She loved him, she always had. He was difficult and grouchy most of the time but she loved him all the more.

She knew Mary’s death hit him harder than anything had before, of course it did, she was his mother.

She decided she was going to make dinner for the boys, they hadn’t had much time to do anything lately with everything going on and a home cooked meal could never hurt.

Dean of course didn’t come out if his room to eat.

Y/n knew he needed time, but lately all he did was stay in that room drinking himself to death. She didn’t want to overstep, but seeing him like this hurt. The last time he acted this way was when they lost bobby, and those memories were something y/n couldn’t think about.

“you think he’s going to be okay?” She asked Sam, biting on her nail.

She was putting a plate of food together to bring to Dean, she normally didn’t show so much care for the man, but lately all she could do was worry. Worry and help out how ever possible.

She never let herself get close to Dean, she already had feeling for the guy and they were hardly even friends. She tried to keep as much distance as she could, but right now she knew the boys needed her, and she wanted to do as much as she could to help.

“ to be honest, I don’t know.” Sam said. His face looked exhausted and his shoulders were slauched. He was picking at the food on his plate.

She hated seeing her friend this way. The Winchester were the strongest people she knew and right now it seemed as if they were breaking.

“ well, he’s gotta eat something” she said, grabbing a water from the fridge and the plate she had made for him. “and so do you ”. She said passing Sam and placing a small kiss on his head.

She hated how much it bothered her to see Dean like this. It literally made her stomach hurt, she was worrying so much. He was never good at talking about his feeling, and Y/N was used to that, but when he shut down completely that scared her the most.

“Dean” she knocked softly on his door “ I brought food”

He was passed out with a beer in his hand, face laying flat on his desk. His head felt like it was going to explode if he opened his eyes but he heard someone’s voice, it sounded soft and quit.

“Dean”

He slowly picked his head up off the table and whipped his face in his hands. He looked like he’d been sleeping for days.

He turned around to find the voice and saw Y/N peaking her head in the door. Her beautiful features fixed with concern. Dean just wanted to kiss the worry from her face, whisper everything she ever wanted to hear.

“ Dean, can I come in” she said.

Of course he couldn’t tell her no, the man could never tell her no. Eventhough he felt like he was dying on the inside right now and looked no better on the outside, just seeing her made him smile. 

“Okay” was all he could say, he hated himself for being so weak, for trying so hard to keep her at a distance but right now he could feel his resolve falter.

“ I made you food, you should eat” she said softly, slowly making her way towards him.

His eyes were on her, but it seemed as if he was looking through her. They were puffy and red around the rims. She immediately felt like she was overstepping, but there was no way in hell she was leaving him like this.

She was close enough to him now to smell the stinch of alcohol coming from his every pore. Her stomach was In knots and she felt like she could cry seeing him this way.

“Please eat” she said

“M’not hungry” he slurred.

She slowly made her way towards his desk and put the food next to him despite his protest.

“De-“

“ I said, m’not hungry” he said roughly, pushing the plate away from him

Great, now he was drunk and pissed.

He was stairing down at his lap now, his shoulders slumped in defeat she could have sworn she saw them.. trembling?

Was he crying?

She immediately froze, not knowing what to do. Dean Winchester was crying, he was drunk off his ass, he looked like a broken man and all she wanted to do was pick him up and make him feel whole again.

“De?” She said.

She gently placed her shaking hand on his shoulder and waited for him to react.

His body quickly jerked when he felt her soft touch. He felt like he couldn’t breath or move, he wanted to talk, to scream at her, to jump up and embrace her, to beg her not to leave him. He couldn’t lose her too, but he did just the opposite, he couldn’t help himself.

“ just go, please” he said, softly at first.

It was as if his mind couldn’t catch up with his body, he just sat there and cried, wanting desperately for her to save him, but he’d never admit he needed saving. 

The two hardly talk, they practically ovoides each other everyday, so why did he feel like she was his life line? He’s always felt this pull towards her, one he could never escape, but he sure as hell tried.

He was hard on the girl, but only because he needed her to be the best she could be. He was in love with her, ever sense he turned twenty one  years old. They were drinking outside in the middle of Bobby’s old junkyard, he had snuk her and Sam some beer.

She was the only person to give him a gift that birthday. A kiss. Small and gentle, it wasn’t even on the lips but it was still a gift, one that he held onto forever. He told her everything that night. How much Sammy had hurt him after leaving for college, how much he resented for being so obsessed. He even told her about his mom, about Hey Jude and how she would cut the crust off his sandwiches. And he fell for her, hard and fast, and it scared him shitless. 

So he pushed her away, he fucked everyone in sight and he made her crazy ever chance he got, because she was only going to leave too right ? 

but here she was, waiting on him, keeping him alive everyday by just being there, and it made him so angry, because he knew no matter how hard he tried the girl would never leave his mind. she had his heart wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it. He was so fresturated, so mad at himself he couldn’t help but take it out on her.

“ hey I’m here” she said

She slowly brought her hands to wrap around his shoulder, only for him to roughly push off.

“ cab you just leave me the fuck alone.” he groaned, quickly standing up from the chair.

“ why the hell are you here Y/N” he yelled, pointing his finger at her “ what makes you think I want to talk to you, out of all people right now”

His voice was shaking, he put his hands In his hair pulling roughly at it. She just stood there, her mouth quivering. She could see his eyes were red and puffy, his jaw was clenched and fresh tears were making their way down his cheeks. She knew he probably didn’t want to talk to her, but what was she suppose to do, let him slowly drift away one by one. She loved him and even though he was a hard ass, she knew he was a good man.

“ God Y/N” he said, burring his face in his hands “ why are you here, why haven’t you left” voice barely above a whisper.

She had tears running down her face now, he really hated her this much? Her body didn’t want to move from him, but she managed to force her self towards the door.

“I-im sorry Dean” she said shaking.

His head quickly snapped up to look at her, like he could hear her broken heart in her voice. His face immediately softened once he saw the hurt in her eyes. Her once hopeful eyes now sheed with tears.

“ No, you don’t understand” he said sighing, like he couldn’t express how he was feeling. “ I treat you like shit everyday, I- I push you away, God I hate myself for it.” He said clenching his jaw.

“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, why haven’t you ran away yet Y/N. you’re nothing but good to me and I return the favor by-by hurting you?” He let out a sarcastic laugh “ I hate myself everyday for the way I treat you Y/N” his voice was shaky now, his body was stiff and it looked like it was hard from him to breath.

“ I’m sorry, I'm sorry I push you away, I'm sorry I beat you down everyday ” he said looking down at his lap. Letting out a shaky breath. “ I care for you so much Y/N and... it scares me sweetheart”

She knew now, she understood everything now. Deep down she always knew, he was scared, scared to be close to someone again, scared to lose another friend. She knew Dean Winchester and she knew he was a good man, an amazing man, but he was still just a man. There’s only so much hurt, so much betrayal one man can go through before they break. She just hopes she can put him back together.

She slowly made her way towards him, gently putting her hand on his face. He pushed his face towards her, finally feeling her touch actually brought him to tears. He knew there was no stopping himself now.

She slowly made her way into his lap, wrapping two small arms around his neck and letting his head fall into her shoulder. She held him as tight as she could, and could feel his body starting to relax.

Embracing each other without saying a word. His arms found their way tightly around her, securing her in place as if silently telling her to never leave him, that he needs this, that he needs her.

“I’m here” she said, her voice shaking but her grip around him staying strong.

He let out the strained breath he’d been holding in, his shoulders falling in defeat. He couldn’t help himself but to fall apart in her arms, it was home. The only place he felt safe and secure enough to truly be venerable. 

“You don't have t’ do this” he whispered, he couldn't comprehend why she was so nice to him, after everything. 

He slowly lifted his head to rest his forehead on hers. He needed her to know how sorry he was, to know how much she meant to him. He cautiously put his lips on hers, waiting for her to back away, to yell or call him stupid.

But here she was, crushing her lips against his, kissing him like she needed air and he was her breath. Holding him together, the most selfless woman.

And he felt like a shell of a man without her arms around him.

He knew then

She was his home and he could no longer run away.

***

YES I KNOW VERY CLICHÉ!! Im trying to improve everyday 😬😬😬

I would like to tag some amazing writers who inspire me everyday, I wouldn’t be into fanfiction if it wasn’t for some of them.

Some I talk to, and some I do not but nonetheless I can only wish one day too be as amazing and talented as they are!

So thanks to them for giving me some inspiration!!!

@jay-and-dean @sunlightdances @roonyxx @writingkeepsmewhole @jawritter @talesmaniac89 @hardcoresupernatural @laphirablack @crossbowking @ne-gans

[heavymetalover]

Heresy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

Summary: You’re a witch visiting the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, aiding to your fallen Supreme, Cordelia, when suddenly engaging in a spontaneous rendezvous with the Boy Wonder himself, Michael Langdon.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, light choking, fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, dom/sub, hickies, rough sex, daddy kink.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: back with another one shot after a depressive episode hahaaaaa fuck

feel free to ask me stuff, i may get to a request if i have time. also i needa follow more ahs/cody blogs since im slowly morphing back into an ahs blog so ill try to follow everyone back! anyways 

enjoy:)

~~~~

 Ever since your arrival at Hawthorne, you’ve been enamored with the talk of the town. Mr. Bigshot Michael Langdon. You came with Cordelia, the plane ride made you nauseated. Not from the immoderate turbulence, but from the thought of your Supreme falling. You all had doubts, thought that Michael was just another powerful warlock, nothing too menacing; but when Michael brought back your sisters from the dead, something Cordelia couldn’t even do, you knew he was a threat.

Michael is one of the few people on this Earth you’ve met with unbreakable confidence. He holds his head high, a cunning smirk enduringly secured on his full pink lips. Yet something about him is also so child-like. His power excites him and he’s always quick to engage in conversation about himself; almost giddy with his effervescent wit, yet beautifully controlled.

You don’t know what made you want to engage with this man, the most you’ve ever done with him is shake his hand. There was a moment he brushed against you, you felt a hard bulge in his pants lightly brush against your ass, his big hand squeezing your shoulder as he wedged himself past you, lingering slightly and feeling as if he purposely was pushing his pelvis against you. You dismissed your suspicions of this minor interaction, explaining it away as a whimsical delusion plagued by your hormonal, juvenile brain. Although, you wanted more than anything to believe he was coming onto you, you were here to support the witches. Your sisters. Not the desperate, power-driven warlocks.

It’s late in the evening, Cordelia passed out on the couch in the common area while the other witches attempt to nurse her to health, a few of them nearly falling asleep next to her. For some odd reason, your eyes are resisting sleep tonight. You’re carelessly flipping through a book, eyes grazing over the tiny words. Your mind is preoccupied with something else, someone else. Constantly glancing around the room just in hopes you’d catch a glimpse of his golden curls reflecting the candlelight, or even his black cloak dramatically flowing behind him, something, anything to feed your hunger.

You presume a few hours have passed now; the whole school has gone silent except for a thumping bass in the distance. Once you fixate on the noise, your eyebrows knit in confusion. You thought you were the last person awake. You shut the book you’ve been neglecting and set it back on the shelf, prudently pursing the bass-y melody. Your heels echoing in the empty halls, stopping dead in your tracks when you come to the hall where the music originates. You walk through the arch into the rich, golden hallways lit up by flickering candles. Hard rock music blaring from a closed door, but it becomes obvious who’s room it is as you get closer. You can recognize his scent from a mile away. The music comes from Michael’s room.

You ball your fist, ready to pound his door and tell him to turn down his music, but pause before you can make contact with the door. You hear low groans over the music, momentarily mistaking them to be apart of the song, but soon realizing it’s Michael’s voice when he grunts out a loud “fuck!”

Your jaw drops, just hearing his moans on the other end of the door makes your heart sink. With little hesitation, you press your ear against the door, your earring hitting the polished wood and making a louder clink than you expected. Michael doesn’t seem to notice, continuing his low moans from inside the room.

You initially came with the intention of telling him off, giving him a much-needed reality check that the world doesn’t revolve around him. But you’re compelled to put all of that on hold and keep listening, laying your palm against his wooden door and resting on it, catching yourself pretending it’s Michael’s sturdy, defined body. You know you shouldn’t be so thirsty for him; he exudes arrogance out of his pores, exhausting and intoxicating you all at once. You’d never admit it, but buried deep down, you know you like that about him. You like his hubris, it makes you fantasize about how possessive he’d be when fucking you, how he’d humiliate you.

You run your hand down the door panel and press your cheek harder against the wood. Your other hand reaching underneath your short, lacey black dress. The scent of his cologne is strong enough to have tainted the door. You bask in the gritty, manly pheromones, starting to rub your aching clit in small circles. Your lips grazing the door as you quicken your pace, listening to his loud music and touching yourself to the rhythm. You can see why he listens to it; it’s even helping you get more into the mood.

You’re practically kissing the door when you almost fall flat onto the floor by somebody swinging it open. You regain your balance and collect yourself, feeling your face burning red with embarrassment. Michael’s icy blue eyes scope the situation for a moment, landing on you, then the door, then your hand on your crotch. You pull it away after Michael’s already found it. Shit. He clears his throat. “Y/n,” he talks to you slow, as if you were a toddler, “what the fuck?”

Your mind sets aside his condescending tone for a moment to revel in the fact that he knows your name; though you mentally beat yourself up right after for being so desperate and putting your dignity on the backburner. It takes you a split second to spew out your reply, “I-I could ask you the same.” You bite your tongue in hopes he didn’t linger too much on your stumble. “I could hear your music all the way from the common room, people are trying to sleep.”

“And why aren’t you?” he leans both his arms against the doorframe, looking so lackadaisical and impossibly sexy. You hate him for it.

“I was watching over Cordelia,” you lie, although you wish it was true. You know the only reason is because of him, because your thoughts always come back to his beautiful, smug face.

“I don’t believe you,” he says with a slight shake to his head, his lively curls bobbing with each movement.

You know you should just leave the situation now and give him one last nudge to turn down his music, but something inside you urges you to entertain his question. “Why don’t you believe me?” you ask, bouncing back and forth on the tiny heels of your stilettos. “What else would I be doing?” you wish you could swallow the words back up as soon as they leave your mouth.

He squints his eyes at you as if you had just asked the dumbest question on the planet. “Listening to me,” he shoots back, “and…” His eyes trail down to your crotch and he raises a brow. He doesn’t audibly declare your actions, as if saying the words aloud will frame the situation to be even more perverted than it already is.

“And touching myself,” you finish his sentence, taking a step closer to him.

There’s a certain energy to him, a sinister overtone even when a stupid grin spreads across his face. “You’re a nasty little witch, aren’t you?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

The tension becomes thicker with each pause, you feel your breathing getting uneven, mouth watering, a numbness to your fingertips. Michael looks completely unphased, still holding himself with the utmost confidence. “Maybe that’s for you to decide,” you reply gingerly, “sir.”

He inches himself closer to you until his nose barely brushes the tip of yours. “I think you are,” he whispers. You gulp down all the excess water in your mouth, just looking at him makes you hungry for more. He aggressively takes a chunk of your hair and pulls your head back, the candles in the hallway burn out. Did you do that?

He gives a measly scoff at your powers before turning back to you. Michael leans closer, his lips shave yours ever so slightly. Hooded eyes surveying every inch of your face, pulling tighter and smiling at your wince in pain. “You want me?” he asks, lips lugging against yours, but rejecting the satisfaction of a kiss.

“Yes,” you let out a breathy whisper. “I do, sir.” An attempt to kiss him results in your hair being mercilessly tugged again. It hurt to the point you felt a burning behind your eyes, tears threatening to appear, but you wouldn’t dare tell him to stop. At this point, you’d do anything Michael wanted you to do, be anything he wanted you to be.

He drags the back of his moist tongue down your neck and stops at the base, laying his lips down and lightly sinking his teeth into you, sucking up the salty sweat on your skin. You unexpectedly moan at his ardor, eyes darting around the hall for witnesses. He sucks vigorously, eliciting a surprised gasp from you each time he sucks harder. Deciding he’s done when your neck feels on fire, his mouth parts from your flesh with a delicious smack.

He releases his tight grasp from your hair, now clutching the back of your neck with a death grip, squeezing like he owns your body. A light groan dies on his lips as he comes back to your face, lips touching again. “I smelt you as soon as you came to my door, I know the smell of a witch well.” Neither of you make an effort to pull away, he uses one of his slender arms to caress the side of your body, moving along your curves. “I know the smell of a drenched cunt, too.” His hand finds your pussy and to his avail, he’s correct.

Sliding your panties to the slide, he thumbs your core. You grab his toned arm for balance as he touches your sensitive clit, rubbing it slowly with ease. “You eavesdropped on me fucking myself, huh?” his tone turns rough. “Invading my privacy…” he continues through gritted teeth as if he was holding back on cussing you out completely. He rubs you harder and faster, your face contorting as you grab onto him tighter. You bite your tongue to hold back screams, almost forgetting that you were standing outside of his room, but the thrill of getting caught turns you on even more. You can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs. “You like invading my privacy,” he starts again, rubbing harder than ever. You feel yourself getting pushed to the edge, biting your tongue so hard you draw blood. “Say it,” he demands.

“I like invading your… f-fuck! Y-your privacy,” it takes all your power to form a coherent sentence. Your pussy convulses under his fingers and he takes them away, leaving an agonizing throbbing in your clit.

He pulls you by your wrist into his room, shutting the door behind him. His lips automatically connect to yours, aggressively tongue-fucking your face, barely stopping to take a breath. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks breathlessly. “You want to be used like a whore?”

You smile at his crudeness; his dirty talk sends chills throughout your core. “Yes, daddy,” you respond softly, returning to his kisses. He grins against your kiss at this little nickname. A childish whimper escaping your lips when his pants rub against your unfinished cunt.

He pulls away to tug his black shirt over his head, you take the moment apart to slip off your tight dress. “I was hoping you’d stop by after I pushed myself into you,” he grins. A wave of relief passes through you when you realize that moment you shared with him wasn’t a product fabricated by being overly imaginative. “I knew your body would be mine the moment I saw you in that tight little dress.”

“I wore it just for you,” you speak your words with a sugary sweetness to match your frenzied desperation for him to fill you up. “My body is all yours.”

“I know,” he sneers. He pushes you onto the bed, towering over you as he claws off your panties. His skin slightly glistened in sweat, intimately lit by the dim lighting in his room. You’ve never seen someone look so goddamn sexy. He runs a hand through his perfect golden waved hair before settling himself between your legs. The first contact he makes is licking up your hot cunt before reintroducing his fingers. It won’t take much more to make you come since he started you off in the hall.

Now that you’re in the comfort of his room, you let all your moans escape as loud as you want. “Fuck, Michael!” you yell, hoping the music is loud enough to mask your screams. His tongue pulses against your dripping pussy as his slim fingers work your clit again. You shut your eyes as tight as you can and pull at the sheets of his bed, feeling the vibration of his moans against your cunt and the cadence of the song, everything turns you on.

Just not enough.

I need more.

Nothing seems to satisfy.

I said, I don’t want it.

I just need it.

To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive.

Michael’s finger slides inside your pussy, pulsing to his own rhythm, speeding up before you can adjust to his intensity. He adds another finger flicking up inside your pussy, tickling your g-spot with each tap. “Fu-” you can’t even release your cursing. “Right there, right there,” you breathe, not sure your words are even audible. Michael begins pacing his tongue over your ripened clit, continuing to fuck you with his long fingers and rub your slit with his thumb, making sure every nerve is stimulated.

You yank his sheets, trying to sit up and watch him devour you, but dropping back onto the bed in defeat. “S-so good,” you cry. He speeds up even more and you yelp. He snickers at your titillation, sending a flood of heat against your cunt. “I’m,” is the only word you can get out before fauceting a stream of clear liquid from your hole.

Michael leans back, letting your pussy release all of the built-up tension. His face scrunches up inquisitively as you come all over his bed. Once you’re done leaking and completely out of breath, Michael glances at you in disbelief. “Wow,” is the only word that can cross his lips before licking up the excess filth that splashed onto your thighs. He climbs on top of you to plant a kiss on your begging lips, you taste your salty juices in his mouth. He parts from the kiss and you lick yourself off of your lips. “That’s my dirty girl,” he praises.

He takes both of your arms and pulls you to sit up on his bed. You’re so lost in ecstasy that you can’t even process Michael slipping his pants down in front of you and the enormous protrusion occupying his boxers. You get thrown back into the fire when his lengthy erection springs out and slaps your cheek. Your brain reacts as if programmed to be his little sex toy. You grab his cock in your hands and shove it down your throat. “Show me how grateful you are that I let you come,” he rocks his hips into your face. You grab his hips to push his dick even further into your mouth, working past your gags and pushing as deep as you can. Every time he thrusts you feel yourself choke on his length, “You like the way I fuck your face, huh? You like how I treat you like a dirty hole?”

You pull him out of your mouth, inhaling the smell of his cologne and spitting on the pink tip of his hard cock. You haven’t seen a dick this big outside of porn, maybe not even in porn. You stroke his length, giving yourself time to recover before shoving him back down your throat. You lick up his balls and he groans, beginning to reposition your head for sucking.

You open your mouth and he shoves himself back in, plunging to the back of your throat. You feel your mouth coat his dick with saliva, choking back on his precum and slurping back all of the juices. You run your hand up and down his shaft, feeling like you’re only able to guzzle down half of his dick. You pull it out of your mouth to spit on his glazed cock, continuing to jerk his shaft. You go back to sucking, bobbing your head up and down as fast as you can and releasing his cock to spit on it. He throws his head back as you continue mouth fucking him. “Goddamn!” he shouts, rocking himself into you even harder. You gag on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, he loves this. “Let me see your eyes,” he requests. You look up at him, blinking out your tears. “Fuck me,” he sighs before pulling himself out of your mouth, a white substance oozing from his hole.

You fight to catch your breath as he’s already repositioning you. Pushing you onto all fours and spitting on your cunt before entering. “I can’t wait to stretch out those tight little walls,” he says, teasing his cock up and down your folds. “Say it’s okay,” he begs, his cock pressed against your hole. Your heart skips when he says this. You nod your head, too in shock to conjure an answer. “I want to hear you say it,” he presses.

You gulp down your nervousness, trying not to appear stunned by his need for approval. “I want you to stretch out my walls, daddy,” you finally answer, using your hands to spread your pussy wide for him. “Fuck me until I can’t walk,” you plead, wiggling your tailbone and pushing his erection into your cunt.

This is admission enough for him, he inserts the head and you feel your whole-body tremble. His cock is so thick, you can really feel your pussy stretching for him. He grabs your hips and slowly starts adding some of his length. You tense up and grab his arm, he stops immediately. “Just relax, relax baby,” he reassures you.

You take a deep breath in and he pushes himself into you on exhale, placing a hand on the small of your back as he goes deeper… and deeper and deeper, as if his dick is bottomless. You find yourself pulling at his sheets again, more tears forming in your eyes. He starts rocking his hips, cramming his large cock into your tight pussy. Each push begins loosening you up, your pain turning into pleasure as he inserts more of himself into you. “Good girl,” he flatters, giving a small smack to your ass and making you jump.

Both of you moaning in pleasure, fucking to the rhythm of the song playing. The instruments enveloping you and you push yourself even more against his dick, wanting to feel all of him inside you. “Give it all to me,” you demand, pushing him deeper inside of you. You both sigh with how deep he’s getting. “Fuck me, daddy,” you hear yourself wailing like a child.

“M’yeah?” he breathes, taking it as a challenge. In an instant, he executes your request, shoving himself balls deep, filling your guts with his thick length. Taken aback, you accidentally knock out all the lights in his room with a squeal, leaving behind a single candle on the opposite side of his room. The wind gets knocked out of you; breath unsteady. You can’t summon any words to your lips, just incessant choked sobs that wither away at the back of your throat.

He keeps pounding himself into you, his balls slapping your clit and sending goosebumps throughout your body. “You like being your coven’s dirty slut?” he spits, giving another hard slap to your ass. You can’t bring yourself to answer him. He drills so deep into you that you can feel him hammering your cervix. You can’t take him anymore and autonomously shift yourself away from him with a raucous scream, crawling away from his thick cock, but Michael chases. He clicks his tongue. “Don’t run away from it, baby,” he teases as you keep shifting.

You stop crawling away once you reach the edge of his bed, his cock sitting idly inside your tight pussy as he catches up. He breaks the lull and starts pumping into you quickly again, this time pinning your arms behind your back. “No more running away,” he taunts. You feel your pussy spasming with each plunge, your muscles adjusting to his fat cock, but they never seem to process it. You can’t stop moaning, screaming for more. You roll your eyes back and drop your head in defeat, taking the hard pounding to your cunt. “That’s it, baby,” he sighs. “Take all of daddy’s cock like a good slut.”

He guides himself into you, salaciously smacking into your round ass with each thrust. You feel like your whole body is crumbling under his touch, one more move and you’d be pure dust. Your heartbeat quickened, body shaking, numbness in your legs, you know you’re close to coming. You close your eyes shut, clenching your jaw, stifled moans escaping animalistically from the back of your throat. You squeeze one of Michael’s arms as he continues holding your hands behind your back. Papers fly off his desk, the music volume fluctuates, you can’t believe how strong your powers are becoming under him.

“C’mon, baby,” he continues assaulting your cunt with hard thrusts, “come for me. Come for daddy.” He wraps a large hand around your throat, hitching your breath, and directs your body to be flush against his. Your back against his chest, creating friction as he keeps with the same fervor. His lips against your ear, “Who’s your Supreme now, baby?”

The thought of Cordelia decaying on the couch in the common space right now crosses your mind, but being under Michael’s influence sends dark thoughts rushing in your head. Who cares? “You, Michael. You’re my new Supreme,” you answer with a strangled sob.

He pushes you back onto the bed, burying your head into his mattress. You suck up his scent through the fabric; drooling onto his sheets while being fucked senseless, you love the way he uses you. “That’s right, baby,” he affirms, “I’m the fucking Supreme.”

He gives another smack, and with that, a trembling throughout your entire body. “Michael, I’m coming!” you scream, trying to lift yourself up, but he keeps pushing you down. “Michael, I’m-!” you get cut off by the unyielding orgasm overtaking your body. Your mouth hangs open, eyes rolled back, fingers digging into his sheets. The lower half of your body surrenders to the orgasm gushing juices from your already-soaking cunt.

Michael sneers over you coming before him, but he’s close to release too. You flip onto your back and he fondles your breasts, throwing his head back and letting out a deep sigh. His skin turns a sickeningly pale white, his eyes meet yours, completely blacked out. He leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his skin burning hot. Why aren’t you scared?

Although you were certain you had lost feeling between your legs from orgasm, when he thrusts himself into you, the hardest he has yet, you can’t help but let out a little yelp. You feel his hot seed spilling into your cunt, he takes himself out of you, smearing his come into your folds with the tip of his cock. You don’t even give yourself the opportunity to dwell on what happened to Michael during orgasm, why he looked so evil. You write it off as maybe-it’s-a-warlock-thing.

He collapses next to you, skin returning to it’s usual light tan and eyes reverting to a deep blue. So blue that you can fall right into them. Oh, your mind wanders, how will you ever hide this from Cordelia? Or worse, how could you explain yourself to her? Face her at this time?

Michael rests his palm on your cheek, swaying your gaze towards him and snapping you out of your daze. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about Cordelia,” he assures you. Fuck, he was listening.

He plants a soft kiss on your lips, much more loving than anything else he’s done with you tonight. “Cordelia is falling. Remember, I’m your Supreme now… and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”