#sometimes you just vanish for a year i guess

[meteorwinged]

@kintsugiscars || i made one whole friend all on my own and he isn't even gingerbread!!!!

"Lex! LEX!" There's a blur of blue and then something wrapping around his legs and waist as Meteion caught up to him. "Lex! There you are! Guess what! Guess what, I made a friend all by myself! He's very red and sometimes he's very sad but he was new to Eorzea just like me and he said he'd go on adventures with me so now we're friends and he's gonna be a botanist so we can help the alpacatheory sell medicine by getting them useful plants!"

A pause so she could breathe. Not that she needed to.

"Did you have fun doing Lex things?"

[archiveofvirtue]

PLEASE I BEG YOU <3 Drew x Journalist Reader. Got this idea based off just seeing Drew having a short interview by a girl at the Newport beach event who was a bit nervous and asked him a question twice. Maybe you can base it off that. Reader is not the most confident, a bit shy snd awkward sometimes. She messes up for her short interview with him and feels so embarressed but Drew found it adorable since it just shows that she's human and ''real'' in a sense. Maybe Drew tries to lock eyes with her throughout the event, from him being on stage, standing in the audience listening to others, but she is like ¨''Ain't no way. It's just a coincidence ''.......but you know....he tries further to make contact

ALL EYES ON YOU! ⸻ drew starkey

notes / BIG YES!! I saw that interview too and it was just too cute not to write about, so this request definitely came in handy. So thank you 🎀

content / drew starkey x fem!reader, actor!drew, journalist!reader, reader is kinda awkward, drew being a sweetheart as usual, reader is in her mid 20’s, stangers to lovers kinda trope

summary / interviewing your celebrity crush and embarrassing yourself infront of him definitely wasn’t on your 2024 bingo card, and neither was him being unable to take his eyes off of you

The crowd buzzed with excitement as you stood near the edge of the red carpet, clutching your microphone and a notepad filled with carefully prepared questions. The premiere of Outer Banks Season 4 was a major event, and the energy in the air was electric.

The cast was expected to arrive any minute, and you felt your nerves ramp up as you thought of meeting Drew Starkey. Your Drew Starkey. Well, not exactly yours, but you'd been a fan for years, and he'd long since occupied a special place in your heart as your celebrity crush.

Taking a deep breath, you repeated your questions silently, hoping it would ground you. But just as you started to calm down, you spotted him. Drew Starkey, looking effortlessly handsome and radiating that natural charm that seemed to captivate everyone around him. He was posing for photographers, his smile warm and his energy magnetic.

He felt good—excited, proud, and ready to talk about the new season. But he was also looking forward to something else tonight: connecting with people who genuinely loved the show. Sometimes, he missed that raw, unscripted connection during events like this.

'Come on, y/n. You can do this',

you reminded yourself. You usually felt so confident in these situations, but Drew seemed to have a unique effect on you, making you feel like a nervous wreck. Your cheeks were already heating up, and your heart beat faster as you raised a hand and gave him a small wave once he was finished with photos.

Drew spotted you and smiled, giving a nod before making his way over. There was something different about you. While others looked focused and polished, you seemed caught between excitement and nerves, like you were trying to psych yourself up. Drew grinned to himself, charmed by your genuine energy. Your mind raced, and you frantically tried to remember your opening question, but it seemed to have vanished as soon as he was close enough to hear you.

"Uh, hi! Drew... Starkey..." you stammered, mentally kicking yourself as your cheeks flushed even redder. Drew had to hold back a chuckle as you stammered. "Sorry, I—I mean, obviously you're Drew. So, uh, how—how does it feel to, um, be here?"

A small smile played on Drew's lips as he tilted his head, clearly amused and a little charmed. "It feels pretty amazing," he answered gently, giving you his full attention. "I think you might be the first person to be nervous to talk to me tonight, though."

You felt yourself relax, if only a bit. He didn't seem to mind your awkwardness, and his laid-back attitude made it easier for you to laugh at herself. "I guess I don't usually get this flustered," you admitted, "but, uh, meeting your favorite actor is a little... intimidating."

Drew's eyebrows lifted slightly. Favorite actor? He felt a warmth spread through him, more flattered than he'd expected, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth. "Well, now you're just making me feel special," he teased gently, leaning just a touch closer. "But don't worry, I'm not here to judge. Actually, it's refreshing to meet someone who isn't just asking the same scripted questions."

You couldn't help but smile at his words. He was down-to-earth and easygoing, making you feel at ease despite your earlier awkwardness. It almost felt like you were old friends catching up rather than journalist and actor.

"Okay," you said, determined to pull it together. "So, if you could sum up Season 4 in just three words, what would they be?"

Drew thought for a moment, letting his mind go back to the season they'd just wrapped. "Adventurous, intense... and wild," he said, grinning. "I think the fans are going to love it."

You nodded, managing to regain some of your confidence. "Thank you, Drew. And just so you know, Outer Banks fans will always be here for every wild ride you give us."

The way you said it, with that sincerity, had him smiling from ear to ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, meeting your eyes. "It's good to know there are people who care about the story as much as we do."

As he moved on, Drew felt lighter, the encounter lingering in his thoughts. There was something refreshing about you—authentic, unpolished, and kind. It was exactly the kind of conversation that reminded him why he loved doing what he did.

While he walked further away from you, you couldn't help but replay the interview with Drew in your mind as you drifted through the rest of the event. You had been a little starstruck, sure, but he'd been so warm and kind that it had made you feel strangely comfortable, almost like you'd got to know each other for more than just a few brief minutes.

And just like you had trouble forgetting about your encounter, Drew couldn't shake the memory of you either—the way your cheeks flushed, the slight tremor in your voice, the way you'd looked up at him with a mix of awe and genuine warmth. Drew couldn't quite explain it, but there was something that pulled him back toward you, something he hadn't felt with anyone in a long time.

When he stepped up onto the stage with the rest of the Outer Banks cast, ready for the Q&A session, his gaze instinctively drifted back into the crowd, scanning the sea of faces. Then he found you, standing off to the side with your notepad tucked under your arm, looking just as captivated as before. You were listening intently to the panel, your attention riveted on the cast's every word—Drew was as charismatic as ever, grinning and laughing alongside his castmates.

But several times, you could have sworn he was looking directly at you, but you brushed it off, refusing to entertain the thought that he might actually be looking at you. He's just scanning the crowd, you thought. There's no way he'd be singling me out.

Yet, each glance felt so intentional, his gaze warm and lingering. Each time you looked his way, Drew caught himself holding your gaze just a little longer than he should, his eyes following you with a subtle, warm curiosity, until you had to look away before you got lost in his eyes again. Still, you convinced yourself that you were being silly. There was no reason that Drew Starkey was staring at her.

But Drew was. He could see the way you tried to hide your reactions, the way you would quickly look away whenever your eyes met, almost as if you were embarrassed by the attention. He thought it was adorable. The more he saw you, the more he knew he wanted to get to know you better.

His gaze followed you even as he answered the crowd's questions, and the small, knowing smile he wore didn't go unnoticed by his castmates, who exchanged teasing glances with each other. They could sense something different about Drew's mood tonight.

After the Q&A ended, Drew made his way through the post-panel mingling, still keeping an eye out for you while you hung back. A couple of times, he seemed to be moving in your direction, and your heart thudded loudly, hope and disbelief mixing in your chest. But then, just as quickly, someone would intercept him for a quick photo or handshake, and he'd be pulled away. You shook your head, convincing yourself it was nothing, just your own wishful thinking.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night, making your way out of the bustling venue with a small, satisfied smile. Meeting Drew had been more than you'd expected, a little moment you'd treasure, even if he'd likely never think of her again.

When Drew finally broke away, he glanced back to where you'd been standing, but you were gone, and his heart sank a little. He hadn't even gotten your last name or which media outlet you were with. All he knew was your first name and that undeniable connection he'd felt.

Drew had plenty of interactions with fans and journalists over the years, but there was something about you that was different, something he wasn't ready to let go of so easily. There had to be a way to reach out to you again, and he was determined to find it.

He could already picture himself talking to his publicist, describing you—the journalist with the kind smile, the one who didn't ask the usual questions. He would find you, he decided. He wasn't about to let this connection slip through his fingers.

The morning after the premiere, you arrived at work feeling the usual post-event blend of exhaustion and lingering excitement. Meeting Drew had been the highlight of your night, and although you'd convinced yourself he was just being friendly, your mind kept replaying the way his eyes had seemed to find yours in the crowd. But now, back in the real world, it was just a fun memory you'd carry with you as you returned to your daily routine.

You set down your coffee, flipped open your laptop, and began your morning tasks: drafting a few responses, diving into some research for your next article and sorting through emails. The office was buzzing as usual, your coworkers catching up on coffee breaks and deadlines. Just another ordinary day—until your eyes caught an email with an unknown addressee.

The message was short and to the point:

Hi y/n,

Drew's Team had a couple of follow-up questions about last night's interview. Would you mind getting in touch with us? The number is below if it's easier for you to reach us directly.

Your heart skipped as you read the last line over and over, your eyes glued to the phone number listed at the bottom of the email. Your hands trembled slightly, your mind racing with possibilities. You felt a small jolt of anxiety—had you messed up somehow? You told yourself to stay calm, to stay professional—but something told you this was more than just a follow-up. You quickly picked up your phone, dialing the number as you took a sip of coffee to calm your nerves.

The line rang a couple of times before a familiar voice answered on the other end, smooth and unmistakably warm. "Hello? Y/n? This is Drew."

You choked, your coffee going down the wrong way as you coughed in shock, barely managing to keep your composure. Drew? She hadn't expected this in the slightest.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" he asked, a gentle laugh in his voice that only made your face heat up more.

"Y-yes! I'm fine," you stammered, quickly setting your coffee aside as you tried to regain your balance. "Sorry, I just—didn't realize it would be you answering."

Drew chuckled, sounding completely at ease. "Sorry about the surprise. I wasn't sure how to reach out to you and if you'd even pick up if you knew it was me," he teased lightly. "I just wanted to follow up about our conversation last night. And, well...I'm still around today, so I hoped we could grab a coffee later?"

Your heart raced, unable to believe this was happening. You managed to swallow back your surprise and keep your voice steady, even as a smile tugged at your lips. "I... I'd like that," you replied softly, realizing this conversation could lead to more than you'd ever imagined.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @starkeydolly @seasons-of-death @httpsdrewstarkey @rafescokewhore @rafesweetie @rafecameroninterlude @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @t6urusmoon @dolcekissy @doll-face222 @wearemadeofstardust0 @beausling @supernatural-wolfie

[flickering-chandelier]

It’s Cool, We’re Just Friends

Pairing: Azriel x BestFriend! Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been besties for years, until one night has them crossing into uncharted territory.

Warning: Steamy at the end whoops

Word Count: 2.8k

The rooftop garden at Rhysand’s townhouse was one of your favorite places in the world. It was one of the only places that you could often have to yourself when you needed some time for quiet reflection. You loved to lounge up there, especially at night when you could watch the City of Starlight come to life before your very eyes.

The only thing better than having the rooftop all to yourself was sharing it with your best friend, Azriel.

You smiled as he appeared, smoothly landing a few feet from you, his eyes sparkling, his shadows vanishing as he smiled at you.

He dragged the empty iron chair closer to you and settled in, stretching his wings out behind him, placing his hands behind his head, leaning back casually. He only sat this way when it was just the two of you, when he didn’t have to keep up appearances as the Night Court’s spymaster and shadowsinger.

“What did you do today?” he asked, looking out at the light and life of the city.

“Trained with Cassian. Hated my life,” you said, shifting in the iron chair to ease some of the soreness in your back.

Azriel laughed quietly, his eyes flicking to you as you tried to get comfortable. “Cassian always has that effect on me, too.”

You scoffed, lightly swatting at his bare bicep. “Don’t be mean. You love your brother.”

He sighed, smiling lightly at you. “Then what?”

“Mmmm,” you pondered, running through your day in your mind. “Oh! I finished my book!”

“The one about the forbidden love?” He lifted his eyebrow.

“Yes!” you squealed, excitedly. “It was so good.”

“Let me guess,” he said, his voice teasing in that way that he saved just for you. “They finally got together and lived happily ever after?”

“Yes! How did you know?” You teased.

He shook his head, smiling. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” you said, studying him. He was the only person you had ever met who actually wanted to know the answer when they asked you how your day was. “What did you do today?”

Azriel shrugged, looking out at the city again, the flickering lights below reflecting in his eyes. “Not much.”

“Are you kidding me?” You leaned forward in your seat, gawking at him, and he laughed. “I tell you everything about my boring day, and that’s your answer?”

His smile faded though as he leveled a gaze at you, his eyes sweeping over your face. “I wanted to spare you the details.”

Your blood turned cold at his serious expression. Azriel and you had been best friends for years, ever since you had fled your home in the Autumn Court. From your old home, you had gone north, nearly freezing to death in the Winter Court before the shadowsinger found you and gave you refuge in Velaris. The two of you were kindred spirits, hitting it off instantly. His brothers and his other friends had eventually told you that he immediately relaxed in your presence, even from the beginning, and that he had never seemed so comfortable with someone so quickly. You were honored to be his friend, thanked the stars every night that he had found you and saved your life.

He had been fiercely protective of you from the beginning, wanting to shield you from the realities of what his life was like outside of Velaris. You hated to admit it, but you did get squeamish thinking about what you knew Azriel sometimes had to do -- the torture, the blood, the screams. The thought of him sneaking around in dangerous territories, watching enemies, gathering intel on the in’s and out’s of their lives… it made you more worried than you could express.

But, you also hated not knowing what he was doing, if he was safe. It took months, but you eventually convinced him that you could handle at least the vaguest details of the missions he went on. You knew that he would never be willing to tell you the whole truth, knew that he didn’t want you to think of him that way -- the ruthless, unyielding shadowsinger.

“Oh,” you said finally. “Are you okay?”

Still, he would usually tell you something. So, if he was unwilling to tell you what he had been doing today… it must have been something very dangerous indeed.

His eyes softened as he gazed at you. “I am now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet Illyrian before you. “You can talk about it, you know. If you have to. I’m here for you,” you reached across the space between you, gently taking his hand.

Azriel’s gaze landed on your hand clasped with his, his expression softening to barely detectable sadness that made you heart hurt. “I know you are,” he said softly.

You studied him for a moment, eyes trailing over that beautiful face that you had memorized. He was in his fighting leathers, tattoos peeking out from under his collar, trailing down his bare arms, his strong biceps that were the size of your head, his massive wings stretched out behind him.

And his rough, scarred hand gently holding yours.

You tugged on his hand gently, so his eyes met yours again. “Want to take me for a ride?”

He smirked, an expression that had taken months of friendship to unlock. “You sure you want to?”

“You seem like you could use a distraction,” you murmured.

Azriel held your gaze for a beat longer before he stood up and scooped you into his arms, only pausing for a moment to smile at you before he shot up into the sky.

Flying with your Illyrian friends had taken a long time for you to get remotely used to, and even now it sometimes made your stomach churn. But you knew it helped clear Azriel’s mind, and you liked the time you got to spend with him in the air, just the two of you.

He held you close against him, his arms wrapped behind your back and under your knees. You rested a hand on his chest, reveling in your opportunity to study him while his eyes were trained on his surroundings. No matter how much time you spent with your friend, his beauty never ceased to amaze you.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly loosen as he flew above his city, a light breeze gracing against your skin, running through your hair through the shields that he put up around the two of you.

Dipping his head, bringing his mouth to your ear, he murmured, “Thank you.”

You curled into him, resting your head on his chest. He tightened his grip on you slightly.

Sometime later, he landed back on the roof, setting you carefully on the ground. Despite his gentle touch, you winced quietly as the muscles in your back ached from your training this morning.

Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hands freezing at your waist, his fingers flexing against your body. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, smiling sweetly up at him.

He arched a brow, not believing it for a second.

“It’s nothing!”

He simply waited, knowing full well that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for long.

“Okay, fine,” you groaned. “My back hurts. A lot.”

His eyes swam with worry, before narrowing in accusation. “You haven’t been doing the stretches you’re supposed to be doing, have you?”

“Well…” you said, your voice rising a few octaves. “Not all of them.”

He growled your name, his frustration evident. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “They didn’t seem that important at the time.”

“What are you doing?” you squealed, trying and failing not to stare at your best friend’s glorious ass, which was now far too close to your face.

Groaning, he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, heading for the stairs of the townhouse. You shrieked. In all of your years together, he had never done this.

“I’m going to help you solve the problem that you created, because you’re my best friend, and because you clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself,” he said, as he stomped unceremoniously down the stairs.

Scoffing, you said, “Is this really a necessary part of it?”

“Yes,” he countered, clearly amused.

You huffed, staying silent as he walked through the mercifully empty halls to your bedroom. He opened the door with his free hand, kicking it shut behind him, before tossing you onto the bed.

“Oww,” you groaned as your back hit the mattress.

The tough guy act faded as soon as you were in pain. His eyes softened. “Sorry.”

“I thought you said you were going to help me,” you grumbled.

“I am,” he said, stalking towards you, his eyes alight. “Lay on your stomach.”

You quirked a brow at him in question, but when he just silently held your gaze, you sighed and did as you were told.

Suddenly, you were very aware of how thin the material of your dress was, how the hem landed just above your knees. You were thankful that he couldn’t see the heat in your cheeks.

The mattress shifted beneath you as he climbed onto the bed. “What are you--”

“Shh.”

Your skin prickled as he settled his calves snug against your hips, straddling you. He remained hovering over your body on his knees. You weren’t sure you were breathing.

“Okay, what are you --”

The air was sucked out of your lungs as his hands found their way to your shoulders, kneading your back with his rough fingers, digging deep into you, working out all the tension that had been building in your muscles for who knows how long.

You weren’t sure if it felt good or if it hurt… both. Definitely both.

He remained silent as he worked out the knots in your back, gradually moving lower and lower, kneading and rubbing.

The lower his hands moved, the more you had to focus not to squirm. You felt the heat of his body, and the things his hands were doing… you couldn't help but imagine what those hands could do in other places.

It’s not like you had never thought about it before. You had always been just friends, but you weren’t blind. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. And he was always so sweet and kind and protective…

You couldn’t stop the moan that came out of your mouth.

His hands stilled for the slightest moment before he continued kneading your muscles. “You doing okay?” He asked, his voice thick. It made heat spread between your legs. The legs that he was currently holding down with his body.

“Mmhmm,” was all you could manage.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when he finally lifted his hands from your back. “Is that better?” he asked softly, not moving from his position over you.

You twisted around a bit, testing movements that had made you wince before. After a moment you turned to lay on your back, your body touching his in so many places as you did so. “You’re a miracle worker,” you said, your voice coming out raspy.

He continued to hover over you, his expression unreadable. He leaned closer, bracing his forearms on either side of you, his chest pressing against yours, his face only inches away.

“Az,” you breathed, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes.

His eyes sparked and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, twining a hand in your hair as the other gripped your waist.

Your body responded to his immediately, your hands cupping his cheek, wrapping around the back of his neck.

The kiss started out slow. Azriel was taking his time, and when you opened your mouth for him, his tongue slid in gently, exploring your mouth with such tenderness that you wanted to weep.

You gasped as he pulled away to leave a line of sensual kisses down your neck, his hands running over your stomach, your thighs.. “We should’ve been doing this the whole time,” you moaned, breathless.

He laughed into your skin, and you felt the vibration go through your whole body. You squeezed your thighs together and he groaned, nipping lightly at your shoulder.

“Yes, we should have,” he said, kissing his way up your neck. “We’re idiots,” he laughed before taking your mouth with his again, kissing you deeply.

“So stupid,” you said against his mouth and the shoulders you were clutching shook with laughter.

Azriel continued to kiss you slowly, his rough hand drifting underneath your dress, up your thighs…

“Is this okay?” he pulled his mouth back an inch, his eyes studying your face, his body attuned to your every reaction.

“Az, you’re my very favorite person. I trust you with my life. You can do whatever you want to me,” you said, your voice teasing despite how breathless he was making you.

His eyes sparked, his expression one of affection and disbelief before he smirked, his hand trailing up further. “Whatever I want, hmm?” he murmured, his eyes trained on yours.

You could only stare as his hand stilled, a fraction away from where you really wanted him.

“And what do you want, my dear friend?” he said, his voice velvety in a way you’d never heard before.

“Please,” was all you could manage.

He grinned, waiting a beat before he moved your underwear to the side, sliding a finger into your center.

The moan that you let out nearly rattled the walls.

His gaze was trained on you, watching how your body reacted to every move he made. Eventually you tugged his clothes off and he did the same to you, until you were moving together, skin to skin. He moaned your name as he slid into you, setting your body on fire.

He pressed his forehead to yours as he moved inside you, one of his hands holding yours, clutched next to your head, as he kissed your lips gently. He gazed at you when he pulled back, his every movement swimming with affection. “You’re my favorite person,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re the hottest man in the world,” you said just as quietly, your fingers scratching down his back, his wings rippling behind him.

The laugh that rumbled through him made your head spin, and his hips move faster. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he countered, smiling lovingly down at you.

“I was staring at your ass when you slung me over your shoulder,” you admitted.

“I stare at your ass whenever you leave the room,” he grinned, bending down to nip playfully at your neck, his hips not breaking his steady rhythm.

You gasped, swatting his arm. “You do not!”

“I do,” he laughed, kissing your neck.

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you said mockingly.

He looked at you pointedly, slamming his hips into yours more forcefully. The sound that escaped from your throat was filthy.

“I guess you’re learning a lot about me tonight,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

You rolled your eyes playfully before wrapping a hand around the back of his head, twisting your fingers through his hair as you brought his mouth down to yours.

You didn’t speak again until some time later, when he was holding you close, your legs entwined, your head resting on his bare chest, his wings enveloping you in their warmth.

Idly, you drew shapes and patterns onto his skin with your fingertip. He shivered. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on your finger, moving to trace over his tattoos, too afraid to look at his expression.

His arms tightened around you and he kissed the top of your head. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

Your gaze flicked to him, your eyes wide. He smiled softly down at you. “You have?"

He kissed you gently in response. “How could I not be?” he whispered.

Your bottom lip trembled and he ran his thumb across it. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.

That made you cry. He laughed, his wings wrapping tighter around the two of you, shielding you from the world.

“Such a softie,” he teased, lifting your chin to press a sweet kiss to your mouth.

You grumbled adamantly, burying your face in his chest.

The two of you laid in companionable silence for a while before he broke it. “You’re going to do your stretches from now on, right?”

“If this is the treatment I get when I don’t do them? Absolutely not,” you grinned.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Josh Kiszka One Shot: Just Friends

You share an embarrassing secret with Josh. Turns out, he shares the same one.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,253

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, cursing, mutual loss of virginity, slight dirty talking, kissing, dry humping/grinding, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, swallowing, and, of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The slight chill in the early summer air causes goosebumps to pepper your bare arms and legs, making your hands subconsciously rub the textured skin. You and Josh retreated to the backyard when Jake’s end-of-the-school-year party got too overwhelming, but a majority of the company had vanished by now. The previous music coming from the house is no longer playing, and the cars that littered the streets have all pulled away.

Golden and blush pink hues paint the skies like rough brush strokes, and minuscule twinkles of surfacing stars shine through the fading clouds. You could stare at the sun-setting sky for hours, but the brisk wind sends a chill up your spine and you grow noticeably uncomfortable.

“Want my jacket?” Josh asks, his head turned toward you as yours cranes upward to the scene above you. His soft voice pulls you to look at him, and you can tell by the way the tip of his nose sports a gentle shade of pink that he’s also cold.

“I’m okay,” You dismiss his question, hoping he’ll leave it alone.

“Please, just take it,” He insists, his hands finding the bottom hem of his oversized hoodie and lifting it above his head, “You know I run hot anyway.” He winks, handing you the bundle of warm fabric. You know his statement is a lie to get you to accept the jacket, but you also know he won’t let the topic go until he gets his way.

“Thank you,” Mumbling under your breath, you slip your arms through the sleeves and allow the fabric to fall over your shoulders and cover your torso. Immediately, your senses are flooded with his rich and comforting scent. Notes of cinnamon, firewood smoke, and the faint smell of weed intertwine themselves in the carefully woven wool of the Baja hoodie.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and the light breeze creates a soft woosh sound; a product of the branches on bordering trees brushing up against each other. The bonfire before you dissipates into a low amber glow, the quiet crackles indicating its last leg. You know it’s time to head back, but just by glancing over to the house, you can tell that Jake is cleaning up and he’ll ask for help the moment you two walk inside.

“So,” Josh’s voice turns your head back to him, “Did you enjoy your first year of college?”

“Um,” You hesitate, giving the question some thought, “Yeah, I did.” Though the tone of your voice says otherwise, and Josh, of course, notices. As a form of comfort, you bring your thumbnail to your parted lips, anxiously nibbling on it while you zone out.

“That wasn’t convincing at all,” Josh chuckles while leaning over and gently wrapping his long fingers around your wrist, stopping you from chewing your nail off. This time, you really look at him; concern is reflected in his furrowed brows, his eyes searching your face for any indication of the truth, “What’s wrong?”

One thing is for certain, Josh always knows when you are upset. It sometimes feels like he knows you better than you know yourself, which can get a little annoying, especially when you prefer to process certain things privately. Although, with being friends since elementary school, his accurate reading of your emotions is a given.

“Well, I guess I expected more,” You shrug, avoiding the real reason.

“Like what?” He pushes, and your pulse begins to climb under his interrogating stare as he’s nearly falling out of his seat, quite literally on the edge of it. If you tell him you don’t want to talk about it, he will let it go, but another part of you wants to tell him.

“I just– Ugh,” You groan, the words proving hard to form because of how embarrassed you feel by them, “I expected more male attention.” Your words are rushed, your eyes diverting from his softening gaze. God, you hate when he pities you.

“Oh,” His lack of response surprises you, and you can’t help but notice the subtle disappointment laced in his features, “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” A frustrated huff exhales from you, and you slump in the uncomfortable lawn chair, “A relationship maybe– my first relationship.”

“Well, you know, the right person will–”

“And my first time,” You blurt out. Both yours and Josh’s eyes widen at your admission and, of course, you panic and continue, “I know we don’t talk about our sex lives with each other, but I thought maybe I would’ve lost it by now.” You feel so juvenile avoiding the word virginity, but you can’t help it, and you’re afraid of any potential nearby listeners.

“It’s perfectly normal to wait,” He soothes, and you only now realize that his hand is still wrapped around your limp wrist, absently rubbing small circles on your smooth skin with his thumb.

“I know, but… I don’t want to,” You sigh, feeling as though a weight’s been lifted off of you, and now you can openly express your disappointment, “I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but I am, and part of me does want to wait for the ‘right’ person, but another wants to just get it over with, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” He sits back in his chair, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on the chair’s armrests, “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t done it either.”

“Wait, really?” You sit up a little, and he smirks at your enthusiasm. When you think about it, Josh hasn’t ever dated anyone long enough to get to that point, so it should make sense, yet you still assumed he lost it somewhere along the way. You’re not entirely sure why you’re so relieved to hear that he’s still a virgin, like you, but you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t sound so excited,” He laughs, his head thrown back and perfect teeth flashing.

“I’m not!” You giggle, “Just surprised, that’s all.”

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right person,” He shrugs, resting his head on the back of his chair and staring up at the darkening sky. The previously colorful shades morph into a jet-black sky, and the stars freckle the dark backdrop. The temperature will only lower from this point on, and when you take another glance at the house, there’s no more movement, just the soft glow of the television from the living room. “Hey, what if–” Josh breaks the brief moment of silence, and you’re eager to hear his thoughts, “Never mind.”

“What if what?” You urge, fully sitting up in your seat.

“It’s nothing,” He shakes his head, brushing you off.

“Oh c’mon, Josh,” You nearly whine, curiosity getting the best of you. You have an inkling of what he might say, but then again, the idea is ridiculous. Absurd, even. He’d never suggest a thing like that.

“I was going to say we could… you know… together,” Oh, he would suggest it, apparently. He glances over at you, then away, his voice hardly a whisper by the end of his sentence, and you’re left speechless, “It’s stupid, I know. I thought maybe because we’re best friends that it wouldn’t be so weird, but I can see now that it is weird, so let’s ignore–”

“Okay.” You cut him off, his lips sealing and eyes holding yours.

“Okay… let’s ignore it?” He asks.

“No, okay as in ‘let’s do it’,” You explain, and his jaw nearly drops, “If you’re okay with it, and I’m okay with it, what’s the harm?”

“I–” He pauses, “That’s true. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You respond confidently, “Are you sure? We totally don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to,” He rushes out, and you have to fight back the smile that threatens to pull at your lips.

“So,” You drag out the word, feeling a little awkward, “When should we…?”

“Oh! Um,” He looks around and takes note of the empty house, all prior company is suddenly gone and the street is empty, “We could do it now?”

“Like now, now?”

“Unless you don’t want to!”

“No, let’s go,” You say, nodding your head toward the house and getting up. His gaze follows you, his eyes locked on yours as he gets up from his chair. The fire has dwindled into nothing but smoking ashes, and the only light that guides your way is the dimly lit back porch light. Your footsteps create quiet thuds into the overgrown grass, and you try to be courteous while climbing up the steps to the sliding door. Josh follows closely behind you, letting you walk in first, and you both remove your shoes by the door.

The kitchen is surprisingly clean– you almost can’t tell that there had been a party just over an hour ago. The rest of the house is eerily quiet, but the muffled sound of the living room TV carries into the kitchen, and you both have to walk through the room to get to the stairs. When you peer into the living room, Jake is sprawled out on the couch, clicking through channels and sipping on his last drink of the night.

“Hey, guys, I was wondering when you’d come inside,” He greets you and his twin, although he doesn’t look away from the TV.

“Hey, Jake,” Josh steps in front of you, addressing his twin, “We’re going to go watch a movie in my room, let us know if it gets too loud.”

On any other day, that would be a normal thing for the two of you, but tonight, it feels very different. It isn’t out of the ordinary for you to stay late and watch movies with Josh, but it is out of the ordinary to lie about what you were actually going to do, and somehow, you feel like Jake knows. He couldn't possibly know, but your conscience says otherwise.

“No worries,” Jake mutters into his cup, taking a sip and finally settling on a channel to his liking.

Josh motions for you to follow him, walking past the TV and up the stairs. Your pulse pounds in your ears the closer you get to Josh’s room, and you swallow down the anxious lump in your throat when he opens the door for you, allowing you to walk in first and lock the door behind you. You’ve been in his room plenty of times, but again, this is under different circumstances.

He rushes past you and slips a random DVD into his small TV, turning the volume up considerably loud. When he turns to face you, a nervous smile is on his lips, and you’re sure your expression is mirroring his. Was this a good idea? Only one way to find out.

Taking a seat on the bottom edge of his twin-sized bed, you pat the empty spot next to you, urging him to sit down. He moves quickly, sitting beside you and turning to look at you. His eyes frantically search your features, and yours do the same, taking in his appearance; his face is slightly flushed, and his shoulders show how deeply he’s breathing, slowly rising and slowly falling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice coming out in barely a whisper.

“Yes,” The single word comes out in a quick huff, and only now do you realize how you’ve been holding your breath, anticipation prickling up your spine. Josh’s eyes zero in on your lips, his upper body leaning toward you, gravitating your own to him. Through parted lips, quick breaths exit the both of you, brushing against each other when you get closer, and eventually collide.

With eyes fluttering close, his lips are plush and perfectly molded against yours. The feeling is foreign, but a feeling you wholeheartedly welcome. Only a fleeting moment passes before your lips move fluidly with his, causing heat to rise to your neck and settle in your scarlet cheeks. Desperate for his touch, your hand reaches for his, guiding him underneath his sweatshirt that you’re still wearing, and allowing his fingers to glide along your bare waist. Your stomach clenches and a small gasp is pulled from you when his hand slides up your ribs and settles just below the cup of your bra, gripping the heated flesh slightly.

Pulling away, your eyes peel open to hold his gaze; his pupils are blown, his irises nearly pitch black, and his plump lips are a shiny maroon. Soft pants leave the both of you, eyes wide and yearning for more.

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, breathless, his brows scrunching in disbelief.

“I don’t want to stop,” You admit, your hand on his caressing reassuringly.

“Neither do I,” He says with a smile, flashing the gap between his teeth. You always love it when it shows through his toothy grin, a result of his goofy laugh or pure excitement. From now on, you will think of this moment, and that thought scares you, but yet, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Good,” You smirk, pulling away from him while backing up fully onto his bed, only stopping when your head hovers above his pillows. He remains at the end of the bed with his hand that was once on your skin subconsciously reaching out to you. “Come here,” You instruct him.

He turns over to crawl up the bed, his eyes bouncing from yours to your opening legs when he gets closer. Inching over your body, his hips lay snug against yours, and you hold back the surprised moan that settles in your throat when you feel his growing bulge against your core. He wastes no time placing his lips on yours again, letting his arms hold himself up on either side of your head, caging you in.

Your legs lazily tangle with his, your hands coming up to grip his clothed waist. This kiss is unlike the last; it’s fervent, hungry, and urgent. His breathing is heavy through his nose, and your small whimpers travel into his haste kisses while he absently grinds into you. Heat pools in your core when his bulge massages your aching clit, causing whimpers to mix with needy moans, and rough grunts to catch in the back of Josh’s throat, muffled by the kiss.

Moving his hips faster, your mouth opens to let out a moan, but his tongue swipes against yours, silencing you. The simultaneous sensation of him grinding into you and his tongue clashing with yours dulls your senses, drowning out the blaring sound of the movie playing, making you dizzy. If you found his scent comforting, his taste is all the same; smokey, cinnamon, and just Josh.

Pressing a final peck to your partially open lips, he travels down your chin to your jawline, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jawbone. Breathless moans consistently brush past your parted lips as he moves to your neck, your head tilting to allow him better access. Traveling up from his waist, one of your hands rests on the back of his neck, intertwining his braided rat tail between your fingers. He gently sucks on the sensitive skin below your ear, making sure to pull away before leaving a mark of any sort.

“Can I try something?” His words are broken up between gentle pecks, slightly muffled by the crook of your neck. When he pulls away, you nod eagerly, watching him sit back on the heels of his feet and gripping the bottom of your hoodie. Sitting up slightly, you let him lift the garment off of you, leaving you in just your tank top and shorts. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, his eyes shamelessly admiring your flushed state, heavily breathing with legs spread open for him. “May I?” He asks, sliding his hands up your bare thighs, inching up the rough fabric of your denim jeans, and stopping just where the button and zipper are.

Nodding again, he unbuttons your shorts and slowly unzips them, his fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging gently. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide the fabric over your ass and hips, and down your legs. He tosses the shorts somewhere behind him, his focus solely on your clothed cunt. His jaw is slack, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as fingers trace the hem of your underwear.

You silently thank your past self for choosing such cute underwear; a simple black cotton pair with a lace waistband. If only you knew how handy it would become. His eyes flick up to yours, “Can I take them off?” His voice oozes with tenderness, though there’s a slight tremble, telling you that he’s just as nervous as you are. The thought oddly soothes you, reminding you that this is his first time too.

“Please,” You beg, slowly nodding and swallowing back the nerves that come with being completely exposed to him. You figure the anxiousness would be worse had you agreed to do this with someone you don’t know as well as Josh, and the closer you get to the real thing, the more eager you are. He removes your underwear at a tantalizing pace, the stretchy fabric sliding over the hills of your ass when you lift your hips, and peeling off your wet slit. If your face could get any hotter, you’re sure your cheeks are dark maroon, and you fight the urge to close your legs when he nearly stops breathing at the sight of you.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles to himself, and barely audible enough for you to hear. Your hands fidget with the sheets on either side of you, and you watch as he leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your bent knee, and then to the other. He takes his time alternating between legs, leaving gentle kisses along your thighs as he repositions himself to lay on his stomach, his head just inches from where you want him. Feeling his soft breaths cascade on your soaked cunt, you fight the urge to grind your hips upward, desperate for relief of any sort.

Thankfully, he takes the hint, likely noticing your restraint and near lack thereof. His hands press on your inner thighs, prompting you to spread them wider, and he holds you there. Leaning forward, he presses a light kiss on your clit and your hips writhe at the simple gesture. If that can get you worked up, you aren’t prepared for what’s next.

He places another kiss, firmer this time, and a moan carries itself out with the shaky exhale you release. Just when you think you can’t take the teasing any longer, Josh swipes his tongue along your slit, and your back arches at the foreign feeling. If this felt otherworldly, how did actual sex feel? More swipes of his tongue pull incoherent words from you, mumbled between desperate whines and surprised gasps. Low hums vibrate his tongue, and his hips absentmindedly grind into his mattress, his eyes closed and eyebrows synched while he tastes you.

“Oh my, God,” You breathe out, feeling the warmth erupt in your lower abdomen and send waves of pleasure straight to your core, “You’re so good,” Encouraging words elicit him to flick his tongue on your swollen clit, and a deep groan pushes past your lips as you throw your head back in his pillows and a free hand carefully grasps at his curls, “Fuck— Just like that, please, Josh.”

One of his hands holding your thighs apart slides along the plush flesh, and you gasp when his middle finger toys with your entrance, “Is this okay?” He mumbles against your clit.

You nod frantically, “God, yes, please.”

Slowly pushing his middle finger in, he continues his attention on your clit, distracting you from the feeling of your walls stretching around the digit. There’s no pain, but you know he’s just trying to get you adjusted to feeling full. Short pumps and the curl of his finger press against your g-spot, and you whine at the feeling, your back peeling off of the mattress.

Trembling legs, the string of breathless moans, and the uncontrollable writhing of your hips signal a close release. You’re so close to finishing, feeling your walls pulse around him, but you’re afraid that it’ll end once you reach climax.

“Need more,” You mutter while lifting your head and tugging on his hair slightly, making him look up at you, “Need you inside me.”

He pulls his mouth away quickly and removes his finger leisurely, eager much like you are, and returns to his kneeled position between your legs— your hands returning to their resting position on either side of you. Without a word, he lifts his t-shirt over his head and you nearly salivate at his impressive physique. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, and yet, this is different; his abs clench with every passing breath, his shoulders visibly heaving, and to top it all off, his lips and chin shine in the dimly lit room, a product of you.

Cautious eyes observe him while he unbuttons his khaki shorts, unzipping them and pulling them down just enough to pool around his bent knees. His erection strains in his boxers, begging to be released, and when he pulls the waistband down, you swallow thickly. The tip of his cock leaks precum, and his hand wraps around the shaft, pumping lazily. Your gaze travels up his body, settling on his face, which reflects how eager and nervous he is.

“Shit… I don’t have a condom,” His meek voice admits with a chuckle, “We don’t have to—”

“No! It’s okay,” You rush out, a little too impatiently, but you really wanted this and didn’t want to back out now, “We’ll just be… safe.”

“Okay… Okay, yeah, we’ll be safe,” He nods, understanding what you mean. Leaning forward, his fingers still wrapped firmly around his length, he rests his other hand on the pillow beside your head. A shared shaky breath leaves both of you when his tip glides between your folds, roughly circling your clit and gathering the wetness. Slowly, he positions his tip with your weeping entrance, and the pressure causes you to hold your breath, “Ready?” He asks, making sure to maintain strong eye contact.

“Yes,” You choke out, still afraid to breathe.

“Let me know if it hurts too much,” He comforts, and while you appreciate it, you want— no, need— him now, “We’ll stop, okay?”

“I know,” You swiftly nod while your eyes shoot between his and his erection poking at your cunt, “I’m ready. Are you?” You make sure to ask, realizing how reassuring he’s been this entire time, and afraid that you’ve been lacking the same hospitality.

“Of course,” He smirks, and his hips move forward by an inch, letting his tip be consumed by you. Your chest gets tight, your lungs stalling as you anticipate pain of any sort, “Breathe,” He comforts, inching deeper into you, “Just relax, mama.”

His unusual pet name almost distracts you from the stretching feeling of his cock pushing into you, your walls doing their best to accommodate his size. You breathe deeply, letting out shaky exhales as your wide eyes lock onto his, a sharp gasp pulling into your lungs when he eventually bottoms out. A relieved groan melts from Josh’s tongue; his eyebrows scrunched in pleasure, and his lips agape. The stinging sensation is dull, not overwhelming in the slightest, but you still grip Josh’s waist, waiting for it to hurt.

“You feel so– fuck,” His voice is strained, his hips unable to move while his cock twitches inside of you, wanting more. His eyes nearly roll when you absently squeeze around him, pulling a drawn whine from him, “How can someone feel so… good.” His words send a rush of arousal to your core, coating his erection as he inches his hips back, and carefully pushes back in.

“Holy shit,” Your words are dragged out by a moan, surprised by how natural this feels. You expected blistering pain with little to no pleasure involved, but this felt delicious. As his tip brushes against your textured walls, a mixture of your whimpers and his breathy grunts tangle in the space between you, silencing the TV that plays loudly just feet away from you.

“How does that feel?” He murmurs, his voice lost when he speeds up slightly, the previous resistance no longer present, allowing him to glide in and out of you effortlessly. With his gaining speed, your legs wrap around his waist, creating a new angle that pulls him in deeper.

“So good, Josh,” You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as the pressure rebuilds itself in your gut, “Please, don’t stop.” He quickens his thrusts, repositioning his arm beside you, resting his upper body weight on his elbow and forearm. His free hand explores your curves; gripping your thighs, your waist, skimming over your clothed breasts, and finally sliding down to your spread cunt.

“Does that feel good?” He sweetly whispers directly in your ear, lazily rubbing circles around your clit. Your hand flies from his waist to his, guiding him to press firmer and rub faster.

“Fuck, yes!” Your words grow increasingly louder the closer your climax gets, and your distracted mind forgets the company that resides in the story just below you.

“God, you feel so good,” Josh’s husky voice and quick breaths brushing against your earlobe add to your pleasure, heightening your peak and tightening the wounding coil, “So warm, so tight.”

“Oh god, Josh,” You whine, your other hand leaving his waist and sliding up his back, your nails pressing crescent moons into the warm skin. “I’m close,” Crying out, your legs tighten around his waist, and your hand grips his wrist, encouraging him to keep going, “Shit!”

The coil in your abdomen snaps, sending a rush of heat through your limbs and core, causing your legs to frantically shake around him and your cunt to rapidly squeeze him as he continues pumping into you. Eyes shooting open to look at the ceiling, your vision is hazy and hearing is muffled, the only sound being let in is the distant string of profanities and cries. Whispered phrases like “That’s right,” “It’s okay,” and “Holy shit.” leave Josh’s lips, which press against the top of your ear.

The final pulses of your orgasm grasp around his length and your moans melt into exasperated breaths, your chest heaving against his. Placing soft kisses along your jawline, he moves further down, peppering along your exposed collarbone and nibbling on the thin skin. His hips gradually slow down, and he practically comes to a halt.

“What- why are you slowing down? Are you okay?” Your words are rushed, and they pull him to look at you, a lazy smile plastered on his plump lips. His face is completely flushed; red splotches cross the bridge of his nose and make a home of his naturally rosy cheeks.

“It’s okay, nothing’s wrong,” He assures, pressing a soft peck to your parted lips, “I just need a minute,” He chuckles as his hips tiredly thrust into you, “I’m so close.” His admission gives you an idea and a favor you’d like to return.

“Wait,” He immediately stops when the word leaves your lips, and his eyes are piercing, afraid he might’ve done something wrong, “Can I– Can I taste you?” Your shy voice comes out in a whisper. His face is stunned, but if it’s possible, his eyes grow darker, clearly enjoying the thought.

“Of course,” He chokes out, clearing his throat. Carefully pulling out, a noise of resistance exits both of you. Glancing at his cock, it’s covered in your release, and your mouth waters at the sight. You switch positions with him, letting him lay on the bed while you sit in between his legs. In the process, he’s taken both his shorts and boxers off, leaving him bare to you.

His eyes are expectant, patiently waiting and watching as you bend forward, lightly grasping his member with your hand and gently placing a kiss on his leaking tip. His hips jut forward, chasing your mouth when you pull away, looking at him with a satisfied smile on your face.

Leaning forward again, your lips part and wrap around his sensitive tip, sucking delicately and pulling a trembling sigh from Josh. The saltiness of his precum and the taste of your climax coat your tastebuds, making your mouth water. Swirling your tongue around him, you plunge deeper, inching his erection into your mouth until his tip pushes against the back of your throat. To prevent yourself from gagging, you hum, making his cock twitch. A sharp gasp pierces his lungs when you pull away and immediately sink back down, your head slowly bobbing on his length.

“Oh, my God,” He mumbles, your eyes shooting to his while you work your way up and down, sucking just enough, “that feels so– fuck.” His head falls back with his eyebrows scrunched, and his hips do their best not to thrust into you, chasing his own release. You move quicker, ignoring the stinging sensation of tears gathering on your waterline, “Keep going, oh god,” You do, sucking harshly, “I’m gonna come.”

His choked words morph into mouth-watering whines, encouraging you to work faster, pulling his orgasm from him. Rushed-out curses leave his sweet lips as his hips sputter and stomach clenches, his cock twitching deep within your mouth. A hand flies to your hair, silently begging for you to keep going while spurts of hot cum coat the back of your tongue. The feeling is overwhelming, and the liquid threatens to leak from the corners of your mouth as you continue your work on him, only pulling away when his erection no longer spasms with every passing of your lips.

When his head finally lifts from the pillows, you swallow eagerly, making sure to hold his amazed stare when you do so. His eyes are shining, cheeks deep red, and his lips stay parted. His eyes are wide as his hand travels from your hair to your cheek, cradling your face and wiping away the drop of cum that escaped on the corner of your mouth with a swipe of his thumb.

“That was—” He breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling, an appreciative smile falling on his lips.

“It was,” You shoot back, smiling in return and crawling up his body, surprising him with a firm peck. His hands grip your waist, his chin lifting to deepen the kiss, a pleased hum vibrating your lips.

Knock Knock

The two of you separate at an impressive speed with Josh scrambling to cover you with the blanket located at the end of his bed. Even with the door locked, you feel panic rising in your throat, making you feel sick, “Yeah?” Josh calls out.

“I’m going to bed, can you turn the volume down?” Jake’s muffled voice comes from behind the door, presumably clueless to the state in which you and Josh are in.

“Yes! Sorry!” Josh quickly replies, rushing to the TV and turning the knob, making the volume gradually lower until the room is near silent. When he turns back to you, you both stifle a laugh, and you lift the blanket, motioning for him to join you. “Shouldn’t I get dressed first?”

“Hmmm,” You think about it, lifting a brow and smugly smirking, “Nah.”

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My second Josh one shot, hurray! It’s a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed! <3

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@musicislove3389

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[lale-txt]

❉ confessing to you w/ Geto, Toji & Shiu

➸ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏: Gojo, Nanami & Higuruma

a/n: reader is gn! obviously i lied when i said that i won't write a part 2 for this, but here we are. the scenarios plagued my mind and i had to get them out. both Toji's and Geto's part turned out a little sad and angsty, but that's what you get with those tragic chars, i guess.

❦ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji doesn’t confess. Deep, deep down he fears that he might put a curse on you if he speaks what weighs on his heart. 

You gotta forgive him, he’s a burned child. 

He’s afraid that you’re gonna vanish once he says these words out loud; without a trace, making him wonder if you were merely a fever dream. But you’re here, next to him in the dark, the heat of your body seeping into his when you roll over in your sleep and cling to him. He has to keep you safe, it’s what his life revolves around.

Toji’s hands are surprisingly gentle when he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You wouldn’t think that the same hands were covered in blood only a few hours ago. Some days he wouldn’t stop scrubbing them until you wrapped yours around his, giving him that look that makes his heart flinch. There’s no fear in your eyes, only compassion and a calm adoration, enough to make the lump of unsaid words in his throat swell. Sometimes he wonders if he’s gonna suffocate on those one day; if you’ll be able to forgive him for loving you, for touching you with those bloodstained hands, for engraving himself into your being.

He hopes you know. You do, don’t you? You wouldn’t curl up besides him otherwise, tangled in sheets he’ll never stay too long because he fears his world will melt down to just the two of you. So he keeps his gun on the nightstand and one foot out of the door, but his eyes will always dart back to your sleeping figure. You mumble out his name in your sleep and Toji responds by pulling you closer to him, only for a moment, holding his breath when you stir awake for a heartbeat. 

Maybe he can love you in between.

In those split seconds when you’re not asleep but not awake either; neither dreaming nor conscious. Not in this life, not in the next one. But in another life, when the stars have aligned and lead you back into his arms. Maybe he can hold you without worrying about staining your soul, your heart; maybe then he can kiss you with the absence of fear. Until then he’ll bite his tongue till he draws blood, choking on the words he chose not to say.

You will forgive him, won’t you? 

❦ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

In the dark and hazy mind of Geto, you’re the golden light that always guides him back to life. Even though fears he’ll dim you once he encases you, he can’t stay away from you for too long, your warmth way too addicting to him. You never push him away, instead you open your arms to embrace him. It’s as if you’re blinded by your own light, choosing not to see the sins he had committed because it would mean you’d have to stop loving him, and that would mean your whole world would simply fall apart; it’d mean Geto would fall apart.

Geto never asks for much. He did once and maybe that’s the heaviest burden he has to carry; that night when he showed up at your doorstep, asking you to leave everything behind and come with him. It was selfish, he knows that much. But how could you have denied him anything, when both his voice and heart were close to breaking, when he mumbled your name like an apology, his hands trembling till the moment you wrapped yours around them?

It’s too late now, and saying those words out loud now would feel like a binding vow, destroying you in the end. He can’t do that to you. Not to the person who saw the core of his soul and still chose to stay by his side, over all these years. Not budging, not complaining.

An unconditional love with eyes closed. A black hole where his heart is supposed to be, from dusk but never to dawn; while you’re burning brighter than a thousand suns. Maybe he has always been in your orbit, inevitably drawn to you.

When Geto trails kisses from your fingertips to your wrists, he can’t help but wonder when the day will come when he’ll slip through these fingers and plunge into darkness. He imagines your desperate cries and the scratch marks on his skin when you attempt to pull him back, back to the light, back to you. One day, it will be too late, he’s sure of that. His end won’t be a kind one. 

All he can hope for is your forgiveness when he places his bleeding heart in your open palms, and that you’ll swallow him whole like he did with the burden of never being able to openly telling you how deeply, madly he loved you.

❦ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔

Whenever he pulls up in the driveway, Shiu can’t help but wonder if you’re gonna be there, waiting for him at his doorstep with that mischievous grin of yours. You’re just a neighbor who he occasionally shares a cigarette with, he keeps telling himself, knowing it’s a full blown lie at this point. 

You’re tugging at his heart strings, night for night. Sometimes the thought of you just lying a few meters away from him, on the other side of a wall, drives him insane. You should be here, in his bed, in his arms. His sheets should smell like you in the morning, not like this creeping loneliness. Yet he never invites you inside and you never dare him to, like a stray cat tiptoeing at the edge of an open door, hoping for sweet treats and head scratches. It’s a game you’re both playing.

“My sweet,” he mumbles in that raspy voice you’ve learned to love so much when he spots you sitting at your familiar spot. Without hesitation he takes off his suit jacket and puts it around your shoulders. He never asks how long you’ve been sitting and waiting there for him, but he can easily tell from your cold fingertips when you hand him the lighter. Just a neighbor.

Inviting you in would mean something more than just opening the door. Within his profession, you don’t do love. There’s simply no room for it. Affection is exchanged through bundled yen notes and comes with fake laughter and lots of regret and headache in the morning. It’s just how things go. It’s the life Shiu chose for himself.

So why did his heart yearn so much for you? He should break this up before it even gets started. But he cannot, not when you inch closer while you talk, until your knees and your shoulders are touching, and the smoke from your shared cigarette is blown from lips to lips, as if you’re both testing just how close you can get before the resilience crumbles.

Maybe a kiss won’t hurt. Shiu knows that the lies he tells himself are piling up at this point. Of course it will hurt. A simple kiss won’t satisfy him, he’ll always find himself craving for more of you. A kiss first, then waking up by your side while you’re wearing his shirt that hugs your figure so nicely and next thing he’ll catch himself staring at the displays of the jewelry store, thinking which ring he should get you.

No, he can’t do that. He shouldn’t. And yet still, he cups your face so gently, lifting your chin up and catching your gaze. So let it hurt, he thinks to himself, before leaning in to kiss you, softly and deeply.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Apple tree" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[nudity]

SUMMARY: No one recognizes the melody Kaz sometimes hums to himself while lost in thought. Neither does anyone know where he disappears for entire nights or why he seems happier when he returns.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

In those rare moments when Kaz is too focused on something to pay attention to the material world, a soft hum would escape his lips as though the tune could finally wriggle out of his cluttered mind and dance along the cold winds of Ketterdam. Set free, at last!

Jesper once asked him about the melody but Kaz only gave him a puzzled look as though he wasn’t aware of his own habit. Knowing that they can’t possibly force anything from their hard-headed boss, the Crows began making bets among themselves:

‘Probably just a barkeep’s song he can’t get out of his head.’

‘Some kind of a meditation technique.’

‘Maybe it’s a song from his neighbourhood?’

‘Lullaby his mother sang to him!’

But all of their guesses were equally good. Although, a more accurate expression would be ‘equally incorrect’. As months turned into years, the mystery remained, while the nosy rogues still aren’t any closer to solving it. What’s worse, they are beginning to run out of ideas.

Arguing about the melody in hushed voices, they never see him leave - only notice his sudden absence. This part of the enigma, however, is well-known to them: Kaz will reappear in the late morning the next day, a lot more patient and relaxed than he was the night before. Where could he possibly vanish to, they wondered.

Kaz hears himself quietly sigh in relief when your quiet voice reaches his ears. The longed-for sound comes from the hall, growing louder as you walk into your bedroom. Sitting on your bed with his back against the wall, he has a perfect view of your silhouette rounding the corner and entering the room. An uncomfortable tightness presses down on Kaz’s chest, the very same sensation he felt that fateful day when your eyes met. Despite all this time, he hasn’t yet gotten used to the sight: you emerge from the hall as though you were just breathed into life, with the softness of something oblivious to the terror of the surrounding world. He likes that thought, no matter how naive it is - that he can both have you all to himself and protect you from what he is. 

“Near my garden bloomed an apple tree,” you sing to yourself. “Bloomed in white, it had red apples.”

There’s something in your voice that he can’t quite put a finger on - a sense of longing, melancholy, as though the song becomes a coded message when it brushes past your lips; like there’s a heartache you haven’t yet shared with him. He sometimes wonders how many tears you’ve cried when he wasn’t looking but the thought makes him too angry to entertain it for more than a handful of seconds.

The lack of attention you give Kaz is quite deceptive. You’re standing right in the middle of the room, undressing a little too temptingly for it to be an accident. There’s no shame or shyness left in you - after all, he’s seen all of it before, many times. His eyes burn your skin in the same way a ray of sunshine feels against cold cheeks in the middle of winter. You bask in it, the desire that still burns after all those years, even if he doesn’t quite realize it.

“Who will pick them for me when my Johnny is cross?”

A horse’s neighing diverts Kaz’s attention from you to the cracked-open window. It’s like a robbery - the smallest gap can be an entrance. Or an exit, for that matter. Although your voice is hushed, audible only to him and yourself, Kaz begins to feel envious at the notion that the night breeze could possibly carry this sweet tune to undeserving ears. Perhaps it is childish of him to think that he could have exclusive ownership of you and this little song, to finally have something he can call his own.

“He’s angry but I don’t know why. Used to visit me but I don’t know why.”

His gaze returns to you, watching closely as you sit at the vanity. The oil lamp beside you lights up only half of your face, making you appear somewhat elusive, a bird of paradise that shall escape the moment you loosen your grip around its wings. You’re taking off your jewelery, putting it away to assorted boxes with utmost attention and care. Kaz can relate to this, in a way - years ago, when your romance was only buds about to bloom, he warned you that you should find another man, someone who can give you the lavish lifestyle you deserve and intimacy you certainly want. But you were more than unwilling to listen and that was, perhaps, your last mistake as the moment you gave yourself to him, Kaz was going to fight tooth and nail to keep the status quo. He is a crow, after all - a greedy collector of treasures.

“He visited me all spring, asking mother when I would grow.”

For the first time this evening, your gaze deliberately meets his. You’re still sitting at the vanity, sideways to Kaz, and you have to look over your shoulder to see his face. In that moment, there is something so divine about you, he begins to doubt his senses. His mind relates to various frescos and paintings of the Saints he has seen. Those same pieces of exquisite artistry bring thousands of people to their knees, bowing in front of faces as gentle as yours. Their hearts suddenly rejoicing in the presence of merciful, watchful eyes that only know love and care. No Saint has ever watched over him, so perhaps it is only natural that he should start praying to you. Epiphany, after all, is not an artifact of pews, old pages and litanies - it is the moment you see yourself through the eyes of your lover, only to realize that not an ounce of your soul could ever be unlovable.

That look in your eyes - he both hates it and yearns for it. It’s like you’re staring at something worth admiring. Kaz always thinks he sees there a note of mercy; a look of compassion and understanding given to a wounded animal that tries to remain threatening. Maybe you have fallen into a trap he didn’t even know he had set.

A few minutes pass by when you and Kaz simply watch each other. The silence is filled with nothing and everything at once - unspoken promises, words of poetry and grandeur that would only attract malice if said in Ketterdam.

“Something’s on your mind,” he breaks the comfortable quietness.

“You should get some rest, love.”

Kaz has a burning suspicion that you know very well what you’re doing to him with your small, albeit still groundbreaking, confessions of adoration. The closer he grew to you, to more of those affirmations he began to notice. Mostly, they aren’t straightforward but like snowdrops in February, they are apparent to those looking for them and by the Saints, does Kaz Brekker look for the confirmation of your love, never quite satiated. In words of care, ‘go to sleep’ or ‘eat something’, he’s learned to find intimacy beyond spoken language.

“I didn’t come here for rest,” Kaz informs. No one in their right mind would choose sleep over the presence of something too divine to be considered only human.

A wide smile creeps onto your face. How is he supposed to remain ‘the Bastard’ when you’re looking at him like that? 

“Then what for?” you coax.

He cocks his head, staring at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps I just enjoy the view.”

“Oh my, did you just give me a compliment?” Jokingly, you put a hand on your chest. A giggle escapes your lips. 

“Would that be so awful?”

You stand up from the vanity, making your way towards him. His watchful gaze never leaves you, painting Kaz something of a predator - waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. Climbing into your bed, you lay beside him.

“So awful I’d stay up all night thinking about it,” you say in a hushed tone.

Ever since he’s gotten comfortable with that, the motion of laying his head against your chest feels so natural to Kaz that he can hardly believe he has lived most of his life without doing so. Your muffled heartbeat rings in his ears and he unknowingly takes a deep, slow breath - you’re right here with him. Most importantly, you’re okay and that’s enough for him to put his thoughts at rest. Your hand brushes through his hair. To Kaz, intimacy feels perfectly strange.

In a voice barely louder than the calm rhythm of your heart, you finish the song that has bewitched Kaz about as much as you have:

“He visited me all summer and I kissed him for that. He visited me all autumn and I put apples in his pockets.”

When his consciousness dances along the line of sleep and wake, he feels your warm lips softly kissing his forehead. Maybe he has been wrong all along and it was you who had trapped him. Not that he has any desire to break free, of course.

[kurosstuff]

Some preening headcanons with any of the angel girls please?

Take this for now~ hope you like it!

I'm very busy this week BUT- here's my attempt

ALSO I KINDA DID MORE HEADCANONS THEN KIST PREENING- IM SORRY I KINEA- WENT OFF

Gonna do three girls with wings- sera vaggie and lute(surpise?/j) idk how to write Emily yet-

Warning(s): some angst? Insecurities(in lute and veggies parts), fluff, wing stuff, established relationships in each ones(lovers for vaggie reader is a female, drabbles(some nsfw) slighr nsfw stuff

Never wrote vaggie. Hope she's good

ALSO I DIDNR REALIZE. LUTES IS SO FUCKING LONF.

Preening headcanons(sera, vaggie, lute)

Sera

• I'm gonna say it. Out of all three ladies? She KNOWS how to preen her wings the best. Sure with six wings its more time-consuming and a pain but she knows how important it is.

Which also means she's the most willing to accept your help. Of course, only if it's you two, and she knows you enough- cause wing preening? Is a mate/very sensitive thing for angels

• and it doesn't matter if you have wings or not- shell sit patiently guiding you through how to handle her wings. Given having six is even more work. BUT also much more sensitive

"My love~ please be careful how you touch them" Sera hummed, wings flapping from your touch one eye popping out, watching you closely making you smile at it- humming in approval she closed the eye closing her main ones at the itching pain vanishing "it feels nice~" she purred out softly feeling your hands dipping between her feathers before jolting

"My love- please- you know how sensitive my wings are-" she huffed face flushed dark turning to you huffing at your knowing smirk "guess this.. will turn into something more huh sera ~?" You hummed kissing the wing closest to you

• not all the time but every now and then does it turn into a spicy preening. (Not when her wings genuinely bring her pain) cause as she does keep good track of her preening. Sometimes, she forgets. Or gets to distracted from work. So you step in to help.

To remind her of what she needs.

• she couldn't ask for a better mate to help her preening. To help her wings in general. She's a tall woman so even though it takes a much longer time given she has more then two wings.. she's lucky you stuck around, more to help.

Bonus points if you have wings.

Cause then she'll help preen you no questions asked. Hell shed even offer the help.

Vaggie

• ok first things first. Vaggie? Is very insecure about her wings. Before falling she kinda knew how to handle preening enough so it wouldn't like- cause issues? But. She'd miss some. She'd miss the cloest ones to her middle of her back-

Only time she allowed Adam to help. Given she couldn't do it herself. Didnt trust the others too.

• but now in hell? She regrew them or- whatever.. it hurt. Like hell. Them ripping through her scared back- bur now she needs to relearn how to live with wings like she learned how to live without.

"I got it- I got it" vaggie growled out, giving you a pointed look on instinct as her wings flapped around, hitting yet another plate, sending it flying off the counter shattering as she tried to relearn how to fold them. To relax them.

"I really think-"

"I fucking Got it" she yelped out

• stubborn. She's a good lover awkward given her upbringing. But she never once meant to upset you. Never meant to take her temper out on you. But, she just didn't know how to properly react to this annoying pain again after all these years of no wings. Now it's here and she needs to preen? Again?

Asking was just as uncomfortable for her. Knowing you always offered to help? Made her upset. For two reasons- her stubbornness from her past to ask for such help pinging in anger at the suggestion she needed help. And two. Because of her snapping at you. Her girlfriend. Yet here she is doing what she was uncomfortable with.

She knew deep down as much as you could turn her away- send her off. You won't. So she? Asked

And you of course. Agreed

"Come on love~" patting in front of you, she stared. Her one good eye glancing at the cushion in front of you on the bed silent. To uncomfortable- unnerving to speak. Stepping too put od her comfort zone to ask. To allow you to touch her and know she's safe. She cant help but be uncomfortable. "When your ready? Let me see your pretty wings?" You hummed as she finally sat down. Tense infront of you.

Finally releasing her wings she allowed you to do your job. The second your hands touched her wings- touched her? She relaxed against you. Feeling safe. Which even now after all these years is..

Odd

• every time you preened her- shed be a more cuddly mess- nuzzling into you hiding into your chest or neck wings flapping puffing up.

It wasn't until you read up on wings to help her that you learned why. How it was like an intimate courting thing to do.

• didn't really understand, but. If it made her happy? You were happy. And imagine your surpise when she handed you her feather

Lute

Lute? Is not insecure about her wings. No she's very prideful of them how strong they are how soft and all the stuff she'd do to court you(despite her not needing to) she is COMPLETELY prideful of them. Showing them off all the time to you- she didn't care for anyone else's opinon..

But she is insecure. About her lack of knowledge of how to properly care for them. All executioners have this issue. Their all taught to be fighters killers. Nothing else. She's still learning to be a good lover- a gentle lover with you. But the basic stuff she knows how to preen.. but it hurts still.

She almost asked Adam for help but. She's to prideful. She can't accept help. That'd mean defeat for her. Mean she can't do it. Mean she ISNT the best. Mean.. she's not the perfect mate. Mean she isn't right for you- asking for help on anything sends her into a freak out. Makes her panic cause what If you leave her?

She can't even cook nor make nests completely right. So why would you want a mate that CANT even preen? Something all angels know. Doesn't matter executioners are.. exempt from this. Doesn't matter to her.

Lute is like vaggie. Stubborn. Unwilling to accept help even from her mate- her lover. She'll throw a fit- if you oh so mention her needed to be preened. She's just way to prideful.

Youll know when she needs to preen. Its the only time youll see her more.. phycially emotional rather then just her words. Oh, she'll yell. It's already well known how.. angry. Lute generally is other than her more... stoic persona.

If it weren't for her wings flapping or her having them at all- you'd call her a rabbit. Given how she stomps her foot like what rabbits do when angry(I know birds do as well when upset/uncomfortable)

"...lute" you cautiously called out. Watching as she stormed around your shared room wings puffing stretching as she roughly plucked herself. Glaring at you she huffed watching you closely as you swallowed

"May i help-"

"no" she cut off, snarling loudly feet stomping in that familiar way when.. she got like this. "Think I can't fucking take care of MY wings? I'm fine. I got it."

"But i- I can-"

Snarling she stormed off slamming the door roughly

"-help-"

Lute? Will stomp her feet. Wings puffing flapping in an annoyed anger cause of her wings irrating her. And that- you know you can jump in- asking yet again- cause she'll break at some point.

She always did. Always broke. Hinting for you to ask. And shell.. "reluctantly" agree and accept your help. As if you pushed her too. God heaven forbid she asks for help herself.

Stopping, you glanced up, seeing Lute again in front of you showing off her wings how it needs to be preened. Humming you blinked in thought. This.. was the third time she did such a thing

"...lute?" Her head tilting to you slightly, almost uninterested. But you saw that look. The look of panic but.. hopefully "do you need..help?" You asked once more unsure how she'd take it.

"If you insist so much. Fine, " she grumbled out, not even waiting, moving to sit in front of you. Smiling, you sighed. Of course, she wouldn't have actually asked.

She may not understand exactly how to preen but- her wings as always are like super soft- comforting as she sighed in relief as you preened her.

But if you asked? Oh, shed reject. How would she be happy for this? She is not. Nope. Nuh uh. Not at all happy her mate helped her.

She does surpise you, though. Even though she does it each time. How she piles her feathers you preened of her feathers. How she won't let you touch a single one, sending a glare your way if you so much as do.

Going through each and every feathers inspecting them as if searching for something. Then, the most acceptable ones she'll put a smaller pile wings puffing as she looks for the single best feathers.

She accepts no less than perfection after all.

Then once she finds it? She'll go to you- presenting it to you- insisting you inspect it for yourself and wait. Wait for you to accept or reject her feather.

Of course you accept-

Then she's all pridful. For getting the best feather for her mate. How you approved of her choice.

Of course if you have wings? Shell insists on preening you herself. She knows it's an intimate thing. How sometimes it does lead.. to more but. She thinks it's more special if she herself does it for you... ironic since she hardly accepts your help but. She does her best

You do have to show her- tell her if she's being to rough. After all? She doesn't know how to be gentle with anything much less wings

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Everybody loves somebody 🫀

RE6!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader

A/N: This is my first time writing for older Leon!! I recommend you listen to 'Everybody loves somebody' by Dean Martin as this fic is based around that song. This is a birthday present for my dear friend @vampkennedy ! Happy Birthday, Raf ❤️

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: so much fluff, it's actually disgusting, so fucking sappy, how dare they be so in love, maybe like a smidge of angst, get your tissues ready

Word count: 2.8k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The dimly lit room was filled not only with warmth, but with love. The love you held so deeply in every crevice of your heart, just for him. Your heart and soul were his entirely, there was no power that could change that. You loved him so fully, like you had never loved anyone before. No one could could compare to him, let only the love he had for you, too.

Every moment with him felt like a waltz, a graceful dance through the warmly illuminated walls of the castle that were your bound hearts. You were almost floating, his grip on you never wavering, and neither was yours. How two humans could hold each other so tightly, yet so incredibly lovingly at the same time was a mystery to you- until you met him. He opened doors you didn't know existed, holding the key in his hands.

He made your chest feel tight with the amount of affection and adoration you harbored in your heart. The gentleness he had about him, so soft it made you melt like honey, was only for you. You were the only one to see it, to hear it. To feel it. Leon was a rough man- tattered around the edges, cold and stoic, but he was nothing but warming and smooth around you. Like all of his doubts, flaws, whatever it was, just vanished the second you were in his vicinity.

There was no feeling greater than having him hold you, your head against his chest listening to his heartbeat, while you just lay there in silence. But it was never really silent. Your love was beyond words, no matter how quiet it was, words of praise and affection always lingered. His hand in yours never failed to remind you of your connected souls.

Deeply intertwined, roots tightly woven around each other like an ancient tree that would stand forever more and never falter. You lifted each other up, two forces that couldn't exist without one another. And you never, ever had to. He'd always be with you and you with him, no matter what might come or what challenges you'll face. You were his, and he was yours.

You recalled your years together, a smile sitting on your cheeks. It was your 5 year anniversary as a married couple. Marrying him was one of the best opportunities you'd ever gotten, and you would do it again in a heartbeat. It was a decision you would never second guess, how could you, when you were so lucky? You could still see it- like it had only happened yesterday.

The nervous look in his eyes, the way he fiddled with his hands. The soft and gentle, sometimes awkward, rookie you fell in love with still lingered deep within him, even if he'd never admit it. But once you made your way down the aisle, all his worries were gone. He couldn't contain the tears that cascaded down his face as the reality finally caught up to him. He would marry you. He would be your husband, your best friend, and whatever else you needed him to be.

The truth was, Leon couldn't wait to feel the coolness of your wedding ring against his stubbly cheek or the warmth of you pressed against him in the early morning hours. He couldn't wait to come home to you, his wife. God, that word made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He had actually beaten the odds and got his happy ending. You were his happy ending, and he would be grateful for you until the fates decided his time was up.

And even then, he'd play the role of Oprheus to get you, his muse, his Eurydice, back from the depths of the Underworld. He'd play the fool if he had to, all for you. Always for you.

You stood in the kitchen, the heat of the oven and stove making small droplets of sweat roll down your skin. The dinner that was boiling on the stove enveloped the room in aromatics and savory smells. It was a favorite of Leon's, a little surprise you were preparing. You used to go to fancy restaurants and other over the top anniversary activities, but ultimately this is was where you felt the most comfortable.

A nice candle lit meal in your shared home was more than enough to satisfy you heart. So you stood here, one hand on your hip, the other stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. You were humming a tune- whatever was on the radio at the moment. Still in your comfy clothes, you turned off the heat to let the dinner simmer. You'd planned to dress up a little- just because you were at home didn't mean you couldn't doll yourself up a bit.

You made your way to your shared bedroom, laying out the dress you'd picked and some jewelry. Now that you think of it, you hadn't seen Leon in a suit in a while. He always looked so good, distinguished, put together. It made a small frown creep onto your face. You rummaged through his side of the closet, seeing whether he still had that one suit that you loved.

Sadly, it was nowhere to be found. You figured he probably sold it or gave it to a friend. He never really wore it, after all. You could always buy him a new one, maybe as a christmas gift. There were definitely occasions where a well tailored suit would come in handy, and maybe you could convince him to wear it just a little more often, just for you. He'd do just about anything you asked, which you sometimes used to your advantage.

You'd give this a little more thought another day, for right now there more important things to worry about. Like would he be home in time, or would you have to spend your wedding anniversary alone? Would be hurt, and if so, how badly? You shook those thoughts away. He was careful. He always was, and you assumed he took extra caution for today. He would always come back to you.

You began getting dressed, he would be home soon, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled. God, 5 years. What a number. It felt like you've barely been married for more than a week, still in the honeymoon phase, and at the same time you could've sworn you've been together for a lifetime. Time does fly when you're happy. Truly happy.

You heard the jingling of keys and the click of the doorknob turning. Followed by a rustle of various unidentifiable items and heavy steps on the floor. "Honey? I'm home!" rang out his beautiful voice. It made your heart beat higher, just how domestic that phrase was. You walked towards the noise, checking on the food on your way.

You were about to say something, but when you laid eyes on him, all words left you. He stood there, in the suit you had looked for earlier, hair slightly slicked back, with a pretty tie around his neck. "I see we both had the same idea," he smiled, walking over to you and wrapping your still stunned form in a hug. "Happy 5 years, baby." Leon whispered in your ear, then placing a sweet kiss on your neck.

The stubble on his face made a shiver run up your spine when it touched your skin. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart." You replied, gently caressing his cheek. Leon captured your lips in a passionate kiss, pulling you closer by your waist while your hand was on his cheek and your other arm draped around his neck.

"God, you're gorgeous, look at you," he mumbled after pulling away, his eyes looking over you and admiring what he saw in front of him, lips lightly stained by your lipstick. You chuckled lovingly. "Thank you, love. You look so handsome in that suit. When did you have time to change?" You asked, your hand resting on his chest and slightly toying with the lapel of his jacket.

He was at work today, which usually got pretty bloody and grimey, yet he was here looking like a Hollywood star. Clean and smelling of that irresistibly cologne of his. "Well, showers do exist. Not to mention that a quick stop at a motel to get ready for my special lady is 100% worth the ass kicking I'll get tomorrow." He explained with a grin.

"You left early? Leon-" he stopped what was about to be a worried lecture with a finger to your lips. "I won't hear it, not today. Today s'just about you and me, baby." He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You returned an equally soft smile. "You're right, Honey. Dinner's ready,"

"You made dinner too? Here I was, thinking this was my anniversary present," he smirked, looking you over. Playfully rolling your eyes, you plated everything, Leon closely watching from over your shoulder. You'd set the table earlier today, nothing too extravagant, just a simple tablecloth, the fine silverware, and some candles.

"That smells and looks amazing, baby." He muttered, his arms wrapped around your waist. "S'your favorite," you smiled, awkwardly moving around in his arms to get everything ready. "You're perfect." He mumbled against your shoulder, placing soft kisses on your exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed and your heart skipped a beat. Even after all those years together, his compliments still made your heart soar.

You let out a breathy chuckle. "I don't know about perfect-" you were quickly interrupted by Leon gently turning your head and pressing a kiss to your lips. "But I know. You're perfect, end of discussion." He smirked. "Alright, alright, I'll take your word for it." You giggled, continuing with your task. He hummed in satisfaction, letting his lips graze over your hair.

He let go of you at some point, though reluctantly, he seated himself at the dining table as you served dinner. You ate and chatted, laughing and enjoying yourselves. The atmosphere that you two created drenched the room in love and affection, and a heartfelt symphony of your giggles.

"That was delicious, sweetheart," Leon sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Good. I spent all day on that damned chocolate souffle!"

He laughed, taking your hand in his. "It was worth it, but..," he trailed off, making you raise an eyebrow,"I had a different dessert in mind." He grinned, stroking your knuckles. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure your lovely wife would agree to that if you asked nicely," you smiled sweetly. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, letting go of your hand. "I'll keep that in mind." He said in a low tone, a certain look in his eyes.

The radio was playing in the background, it was set on an oldie channel that you liked listening to while cooking. The soft tunes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and The Mills Brothers were echoing through the room, the candles in the middle of the table flickering. "I should get started on the dishes," you said softly, getting up from your seat. Leon immediately leaned forward, quickly grabbing your forearm across the table to stop you.

"No, no, no, sweetheart, sit back down." He ordered gently, pulling you back into your chair. "Honey, the kitchen is a mess-"

"I don't care. It's our anniversary. Relax for once, baby," he asked of you, a pleading look in his eyes, the grip he had on your arm softening. A guilty feeling washed over you. You had the habit of running around like a headless chicken sometimes, trying to get as much done as possible.

"M'sorry. I guess I just want everything to be... perfect." You muttered, avoiding his gaze. His brows pulled together, in worry or out of empathy, you didn't know. "It's more than perfect, Darling. Please just enjoy today. Enjoy us. It's been five years since I watched you walk down the aisle, can you believe that?" He chuckled softly, his thumb stroking over your skin. He couldn't even believe it. How did he get so lucky? It was a mystery to him, but god, he was so incredibly grateful.

He never thought he'd ever have this. And somedays, he was anxious, just waiting for everything to vanish, slipping from his grasp. Nothing brings him more comfort on those days than to hold you and remind himself that you're here, with him because you chose to, and that you would never leave. "God, I know. What a perfect day that was, huh?" You sighed, the corners of your mouth turning upwards. There was shimmer in his eyes, a light of pure joy, just like on that very day. Some things never change.

Leon hummed softly in response knowing that no words would do justice to how he felt back then. You sat in the comfortable silence for a while, occasionally catching each others' gaze, which was then met with a loving smile while your fingertips brushed as your hands rested on the table. The radio was still playing softly in the kitchen, the gentle tunes filling the room perfectly.

You perked up, your brows raising once you heard the fluttering melody of one of you favorites; Everybody loves somebody. In turn, Leon's brows scrunched together in confusion. You got up with a smile on your face, if his face would allow it, his brows would furrow even further as you did so silently. "Honey, what are you-" you interrupted him by pulling him out of his chair wordlessly and dragging him to the middle of your livingroom where your hands settled on his chest.

His expression softened once he realized what was happening. You wanted to dance with him. His heart swelled, to have you wanting to do something so intimate and romantic with him. It was a bit silly since you've been married for so long but you never failed to touch his heart. His hands found your waist and gently pulled you closer to him, but you were never close enough for his taste.

You started swaying to the rhythm, the hands that were previously on his chest now resting near the back of his shoulders. Leon matched your rythym, holding you tightly while moving the both of you to the melody. He looked so good. The dim light of the room hitting his features so perfectly. They way he looked at you so adoringly made your cheeks flush.

"You know, I listened to this song on my 17th birthday, wondering when my sometime and where my someplace would be...," you began softly, the gentle smile on his lips prompting you to keep going," and, well, my sometime is now. My someplace is right here, with you, in your arms. Words cannot describe how much I love you. You make my heart sing, Leon." You smiled, placing a hand on his cheek.

His eyes widened slightly and you could feel him stiffen at your confession, but he never stopped swaying you. The way his name fell from your lips in such a truly loving way made his heart beat out of his chest. A sheen of tears glistened in his baby blues, his brows pulled together and you could feel him lean into your touch.

"I love you. God, I love you so much." He sighed, a slight tremble in his usually so confident tone as he placed his forehead against yours. "I love you more." You whispered, your warm breath fanning over his lips. Your nose brushed against his before you pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss. Your lips set his heart aflame, just like they'd done so many times before.

Although searing, the kiss didn't lack passion. Leon couldn't help but groan against your lips, wrapping his arms fully around you and holding you close. You made him feel so loved, like he never had. God, if he could carve out his lovesick heart and serve it to you on a silver platter, he would. A broken sigh escaped him as he metled into you. The sound rumbled in his throat, sending vibrations through your skin.

You only pulled away when you felt a small, wet drop met your hand. You were breathless, the kiss took all the air from your lungs. Looking up at him, you saw something incredibly precious. He was crying. He loved you so much and was completely overwhelmed by your affection that he was crying. You gently wiped the tear with your thumb before caressing his stubbly cheek. "Don't cry, my love." You cooed, making him let out broken cries.

"Shhh.. I'll kiss all your tears away, I promise you that." You whispered with a small smile, pressing gentle kisses on his cheeks. You could taste the saltiness of his tears on your tongue. "I'll love you forever." He mumbled, brushing a piece of hair out of your face, a small smile tugging at his lips. "So will I." Your head fell forward against his chest, his head resting on top of yours. You closed your eyes, sighing contently. As you listened to his steady heartbeat, one thing became crystal clear to you. You've never been so sure about something.

Now was your sometime, this was your someplace and he was your someone.

This was where you belonged.

🕯°°••°°••°°••°°••°°•🤎•°°••°°••°°••°°••°°🕯

I hope you have a lovely day, Raf!<3

[tossawary]

Luo Binghe doesn't know that he's a demon until Meng Mo tells him. Even then, Meng Mo doesn't really say "you're a demon" at first. He suggests that a demon might have planted something in Luo Binghe at some point and urges him to cultivate a demonic path. I guess they figured out later together that Binghe was descended from a demon, maybe, in the next few years; it's possible that Binghe didn't find out that he was a heavenly demon specifically until being revealed at the Immortal Alliance Conference.

I wonder what it felt like for Luo Binghe, for those first 14-15 years of his life. Could he feel his demonic power at all? I generally headcanon that Su Xiyan sealed it very deeply using dimensional pockets, but Meng Mo managed to sense something while in Luo Binghe's body and taught Luo Binghe how to harness some of that power through the seals, so Binghe could probably feel something of his demonic power.

So, what did it feel like? I'm imagining that the growing pains of whatever the hell is up with Luo Binghe's body probably didn't feel good, and maybe felt like being sick. A flash of heat inside his chest? Twisting pain in his abdomen sometimes? A stabbing needle through his veins that left him feeling lightheaded? A splitting headache that appeared for no reason and vanished without explanation? Light fevers that strike in the night and ache down to bones? Breathlessness? Inexplicable dread?

It's terrifying not to know what's "wrong" with you. I'm imagining young Luo Binghe curled up in that woodshed, thinking about his adoptive mother, and feeling like he was going to die without explanation. It's so sad.

Shen Yuan knows from the beginning that Luo Binghe is a demon, is a heavenly demon, is the protagonist, and is going to survive and "thrive", so he doesn't really think about it, but Binghe DOESN'T KNOW. His present life at Qing Jing Peak is painful and unstable and miserable; his future is unknown and terrifying and far from sure. He doesn't know anything about "Proud Immortal Demon Way". Even when Meng Mo shows up and offers him a desperately needed advantage, they're just guessing what's wrong with him, and now Binghe has to add "fear of being caught cultivating a demonic path or randomly dying because of this unknown power" to his stresses.

It makes me want to get up and start pacing, like, fuck, he really didn't know for a really long time. This poor kid!

[solargeist]

Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit

Scar figured he was finally going crazy.

It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.

That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.

Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.

It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“

He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?

He figured he was finally going crazy.

Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.

Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.

He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.

“You.”

And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,

“You see me?”

Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”

Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.

“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.

With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.

“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.

He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.

“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.

This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”

The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.

“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”

This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.

He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?

-🦕

OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me

[janeyseymour]

Enchanted

I was working my double shift at the restaurant when Enchanted by Taylor Swift came on, and this was born...

Summary: Ava begs you to go to a school event. You dread the night, but you quickly find that you're enchanted to meet a feisty redheaded teacher there.

WC: ~1.8k

Ava, your best friend, is currently begging you to come to one of the events she has to attend for her school.

“Please, Y/N,” she pleads. “If at least fifty people don’t show, my ass is on the line! This is the first job I actually like!”

“What do you even do there?” you chuckle. “I see you go live on Instagram constantly.”

“I’m running a school and being an influencer!” she snorts. “Please, Y/N.”

“What can you offer?” you ask as you file your nails.

“After, we can go out to the clubs?”

“I’m done drinking for a while after the last time we went out together,” you roll your eyes.

“I’ll… pay for your next manicure?”

“I’m getting a new set,” you grin.

“Whatever,” she groans. “Just show up to the school by seven so I can count you as a head.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Your favorite pain in the ass, otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck with me all these years,” the principal rolls her eyes.

“I think I got stuck with you, is more like it.” The truth is, you had grown up with Ava as a neighbor. Your families often had dinners together, and even splurged on one big ‘family’ vacation together when the two of you were thirteen. It was the best week of your life, and you really don’t know where you’d be without the spunky and full of live woman by your side. 

So here you are, at Abbott Elementary, for some sort of fundraiser- and it isn’t one that you particularly wish you were at. Sometimes, Ava came through for this school and knew how to threw a child-friendly party, but this is clearly not the case with this one.

You’re engaging in friendly conversation with Janine and Jacob, forcing laughter and faking your smiles. You glance over to where Ava is interacting with one of the sponsors, clearly schmoozing them.

“Oh, there’s Melissa!” Jacob grins. “Melissa!” he waves the woman over.

Not expecting anything, you turn to glance at the woman the history teacher is calling over, and the vacancy that was in your eyes as you listened to Janine drone on immediately vanishes.

The two of you lock eyes as she crosses the room to greet her coworkers. There’s a spark in her eye that whispers, ‘Have we met?’ and you can’t help but smile at her as she makes her way over.

“Melissa!” Janine grins.

“Hey, kid,” she replies without taking her eyes off of you. Then she directs her words towards you. “Melissa. Schemmenti. You are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her softly, hoping she doesn’t hear the waver in your voice. She’s taking your breath away.

“Why’re you here?”

“I- Ava’s my best friend. I’ve been to a few of these fundraisers,” you tell her. “But I’ve never seen you around. Are you a new teacher?”

“If working here for the last twenty years is new,” she playfully retorts. You catch her eyes glance at your outfit, memorizing it. “I need a drink. You want one?”

You nod, thankful for an escape from the two younger teachers. You follow her to the bar.

“Lemme guess,” she looks you over again. “Seltzer girl?”

You can tell in her voice that she might judge you if you tell her she’s absolutely correct, so you shake your head. “I was actually thinking a Yuengling tonight.”

“Pretty and has good taste in beer?” she looks impressed. 

You turn nearly as red as the woman’s hair. “It’s just a Yuengling.”

“Didn’t strike me for that though,” she shrugs before ordering two beers. The two of you clink your bottles together before taking simultaneous sips. “Easy on the eyes, likes a good beer… friends with Ava?”

“Not by choice,” you quickly remark. “More like stuck with her since we were five.”

“I didn’t realize you were the same age as Coleman,” she notes. “You look much younger.”

“My secret is that I don’t work with kids,” you joke.

“That would do it,” she chuckles. “I had gray hair by the time I was twenty five from working at this school.”

You find that you really enjoy talking to this Melissa Schemmenti character. She finds that she loves that you’re able to keep up with her quick remarks and can usually deal it right back. You spend the night in a corner with her, tossing jokes back and forth, and it’s almost like you’ve been passing notes in secrecy during class. 

“Y/N!” Ava calls as she makes her way over to you. You have to bite back a groan at your friend for interrupting this time with perhaps your new favorite Abbott teacher. “Melissa! You came!”

“Been here for two hours, Ava,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“I see you met my bitch,” the principal raises a suggestive brow. She knows you’re into redheads, and she also knows that you’re exactly Melissa’s type- a hot, quick to remark, decisive woman.

“Not your bitch,” you stick your tongue out at your best friend.

“You’re here, ain’t you?” she grins. “My bitch.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you tell her for the fifth time that night.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Ava chuckles.

“Do I?”

“Well, if you don’t love me, who do you love?”

“I am painfully single, and you know it, Coleman,” you roll your eyes. Underneath your tough exterior though, you know the question of ‘Who do you love?’ is going to linger in your mind for the rest of the night.

Melissa subconsciously licks her lips. So you’re hot, you drink a good beer, you know how to give it right back to Ava, and you’re single? This just keeps getting better and better for her.

“You could have anyone you want. You’re just picky,” the principal retorts. “Anyway, this party is lame, so I was thinking we ditch it and go out!”

“You’re the principal,” Melissa reminds her. “You have to stay til the end.”

“Who says?”

“The superintendent who is already hellbent on trying to get your ass fired,” the second grade teacher remarks.

“Shit, girl,” your best friend groans. “You’re right.”

“I also already told you I was done drinking for a while.”

“You have a beer in hand,” Ava points out.

“Well…” you shrug. “Melissa asked if I wanted anything to drink, and I figured I could handle a beer. I will not be able to handle fireball shots like I know you want to take.”

“How much longer does this go to?” the redhead asks.

“Til ten, so… an hour longer.”

“I’m gonna need another beer.”

The redhead stays until everyone clears out, keeping you company. You truly don’t want this time with her to end. 

Ava heads to her office to grab your things, and you sigh when you realize that your time with Melissa is quickly coming to an end.

“It was really nice to meet you,” you say quietly to the woman who’s stuck by your side all night.

“Enchanting,” she smiles back at you with a wink. She grabs her bag and heads out. You watch her as she goes. You really were enchanted to meet her.

“So, Melissa,” Ava wiggles her eyebrows as she locks her office.

“We were just talking,” you roll your eyes. “Can I go now?”

“Yeah, just let me know when you want to go get your nails done,” she tells you dryly. Then she gives you one of the softer looks that she usually only reserves for those who are especially close to. “And seriously… thank you for coming.”

“Once again, I’m stuck getting you out of ridiculous situations,” you joke with her.

“Like it’s your job,” she quips.

“I’ll give you a call soon,” you tell her as you turn on your heel.

You’re laying in bed, Ava’s question running through your head for the thousandth time this night.

Who do you love?

You glance at the clock, and 2 AM is staring back at you. Jesus Christ.

You wonder about who you love until you’re no longer tired. You love your family, you love your friends, you love Ava… but who would be the one that you truly love and want to spend the rest of your days with? You have no idea. All you know at this very moment is that intoxicating redhead that stood by your side tonight is in your head and stealing all of your thoughts.

Giving up, you get out of bed and head into your kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. You’re pacing back and forth as you wait for the water to heat when you hear something that sounds sort of like a knock on your front door. Your brain tells you that you hope it’s Melissa- but realistically, you know it’s that stupid tree branch that hits the window when it’s windy out.

You let yourself fantasize about what it would be like to open the door and her standing there. You imagine that all she would say is a simple, ‘hey’. It’s past 2 AM now, what else would she say if she showed up at your door?

All you know is that you were enchanted to meet that gorgeous second grade teacher. You had blushed all the way home that night thinking about the different things that she had whispered to you- her jokes, her snarky remarks, that infectious laugh where she would throw her head back and bring her hand to her chest. A night that you had dreaded ended up being flawless. You wonder if she felt the same way. Maybe you would have to ask Ava for her number. No, she’s probably in a relationship- someone like her would have to be. There’s no way she’s single. But you let yourself think about what it could be like with her. 

As you settle down on your couch, you wonder if there are any more events that are upcoming for the school. Hopefully, you would be able to see her again- that tonight was the very first page of a new chapter in your life, and not where the storyline ends with that woman. You know she’s going to be on your mind until you see her again, or at least get to hear about her through Ava.

You mentally kick yourself for holding back what you had wanted to say to her as you were leaving. You should’ve asked her for her number- if she wanted to meet you for dinner or another drink. But you didn’t. Because you didn’t know if she was in love with someone else. If she had somebody waiting on her. 

Maybe you’ll ask Ava about her another day. But for now, you quietly whisper, “Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting for you.”

Part 2

[theturtlelovers]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎

Pairing: Mikey/GN!Reader Rating: Everyone Contents: Mikey is the first to get a partner, Donnie's a bit weird, but we still love him, Splinter loves soap operas Warnings: None, really? Wordcount: 1,386

Notes: Guess who's back! Back again! ♪(┌・。・)┌ Finally, after one too many years!

Mikey's heart soared when he entered a relationship with his significant other. Overflowing with excitement and joy, he celebrated the transition from friends to partners, ending a period of mutual uncertainty. Even his older brothers and sensei, who had been quietly rooting for the two of you to get together for almost a year, let out sighs of relief. What he once feared was unrequited affection had blossomed into a loving relationship. As they embarked on the honeymoon phase, Mikey believed this blissful period would never end. He felt incredibly fortunate to have his best friend as his partner in crime.

Mikey had always been your friend, adhering to the principle of friendship first before exploring any romantic possibilities. Yet, things were different now—more intimate and personal. With mischievous chuckles (huehuehue), he could do things he couldn't before without raising eyebrows. Mikey could hug you just because, plant kisses on your head, and shower you with compliments, all while grinning from ear to ear as he watched you blush, trying to return the favor. It felt like, in those moments, he fell in love with you all over again simply because he could finally give you the affection you deserved.

At first, Mikey was too absorbed in your newfound relationship to notice, but his brothers were watching him. And weirdly so.

Whenever you came over for movie marathons, Donnie would emerge from his lab intermittently. Coincidentally, he always seemed to be peeking around the corner during your debates or when you and Mikey were theorizing about a new movie's plot. Initially, Mikey wanted to say something because it felt like Donnie was intruding on his time with you. However, he was more relieved that the usually work-obsessed Donnie was taking a break from his screens, even if it meant eavesdropping on your conversations. At least they weren't personal ones.

Raph, on the other hand, was thankfully more discreet. He didn't pop up out of nowhere like some sort of gopher to intrude on Mikey's private moments with you. Instead, Raph observed from a distance when you two were in more public settings. He tried to be subtle, stealing glances at how Mikey leaned in close to hear you at the dinner table, the way he smirked in a failed attempt to hide his giggles at an inside joke, or how he gently nudged you aside with a soft "pardon me, angel-cakes," holding your hip as he reached for something and then carefully moving you back. At times, a fleeting flash of envy would appear in Raph's eyes as he watched, but it would quickly vanish, replaced by an unreadable expression.

Leo was a different story altogether. He was certainly more direct than his other two brothers. He would openly ask Mikey questions, sometimes subtly weaving them into their conversations. Other times, he would just blurt them out, regardless of how out of pocket they might seem. It took Mikey quite a while to catch on to Leo's unusual questioning.

Eventually, Mikey sought out Splinter, thoroughly weirded out by his older brothers' antics—if he could even call them that. "Hey, Sensei?" The aging rat turned his gaze from watching his soap opera. "What’s the matter, my son?"

Mikey’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you by chance noticed the way the others have been acting?"

"Ah, you must be referring to the way they have been observing you." Splinter caressed his beard, which had recently been braided, courtesy of you spending time with him earlier that day. Mikey smiled fondly seeing it as he sat down on the couch next to him.

"So I haven’t been making it up then!"

"Indeed. It makes sense why they would want to watch you, though."

Huh? "What- why? But I’m not doing anything crazy that’s out of my usual."

Splinter’s dark eyes gazed at his youngest, who was so intuitive yet naive. "Perhaps you are not. However, you are the first amongst your brothers to be experiencing a romantic relationship."

That made Mikey pause. He understood the implication, yet at the same time, he couldn't quite grasp why it mattered. So he just went, "Huh, I guess that makes sense," and did a slow nod. Why did he go to his dad again? He should have known that Splinter's wise words often left him more confused than before.

Mikey eventually grasped the meaning behind his father's words during one of your weekend movie nights at your place. With no work in the morning, you both were engrossed in a marathon of the John Wick series. For once, Mikey's attention was more on the movie than on you, and it was as if a gentle tap on his brain brought him to a realization.

He was setting the example for his brothers. Although it took him a while to come to this conclusion, he was relieved that it didn't require any dramatic arguments or life-threatening situations. It was just John Wick fighting for the memory of his late wife that sparked the insight. Oh. OH!

The staring and the questions all made sense now. None of his older brothers had lovers of their own, and there wasn’t a reference for mutants in romantic relationships, so they were looking to him as some form of guidance. And Splinter, bless his soul, while a great father and the closest male role model a rat can be, had no personal experience in romance either, not unless you count his addiction to soap operas. It was nerve-wracking because that also meant he couldn’t turn to them for help. As the youngest turtle in his close-knit family, Mikey was used to having his older brothers handle the tough stuff for him. This arrangement never troubled him; it allowed him more freedom to pursue his interests. However, with a newfound understanding of the sacrifices his brothers made on his behalf, Mikey felt a mix of offense and gratitude. Initially, he questioned if their actions stemmed from a belief in his incompetence. Upon further reflection, though, he realized their motives were pure—they simply wanted to keep him safe and shield him from the stress that came from such burdens.

Previously, Mikey's focus was more lighthearted, free from the heavier burdens his brothers carried—Leo tasked with ensuring everyone's safety, Donnie charged with maintaining their tech and home in peak condition, and Raph driven to fortify their resilience against any challenge. Yet, Mikey found himself considering not just his own well-being but yours as well.

His brothers weren't the ones committed to you; he was. Mikey was your turtle, your other half. It was his responsibility to fight for you, care for you, and love you until it felt like his heart would bleed for you. Later that night, as he held you close to his plastron and basked in your scent, he made vows that only he could hear.

As time passed, Mikey became more open, allowing his brothers to see how he navigated his relationship or talking about you whenever you were brought up. Not that Mikey minded—he loved any opportunity to talk about you.

“Yeah, we’ve been going stargazing together.” “But you don’t care about stars, Mikey?”

“True, but I do now because (Y/n) likes them.”

He showed that it’s okay to be vulnerable. It's alright not to always have everything under control because it's the two of you against any problem. He showed it's fine to engage in activities like painting nails or sharing quirky moments together. Supporting them through everyday tasks like doing laundry, preparing dinner, or simply listening to them vent about the latest work gossip is valuable. And it's okay to let them know you love them and that he's just a call away if they ever need help.

His brothers seemed to appreciate that—and you, since you received equal effort from him—because one by one they each eventually found someone to call their own. And gradually, each one found someone special in their lives. Surprisingly, they all turned to him for advice, one after the other. It was an unfamiliar role for Mikey, being the giver rather than the receiver of guidance. He wondered, was this how Splinter and Leo felt most of the time?

Huh… being the leading example sure was satisfying.

Tagging: @whygz, @brightlotusmoon, @mrghostings Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

[fanfic-obsessed]

I have a prompt for you, in light of the recent (very entertaining) DCU aus you've posted. If you were going to do a batfam-are-cryptids-but-now-the-justice-leauge-meets-them thing, how would you do it?

Have I told you thank you yet, @somestorythoughts, your prompts and responses make me so happy. Also I almost always end up with  more to write, which is fun.

Now back to the important part.

Fair warning, I screw with ages and timelines with this one. There is no canon here

I think, as far as a cryptid status is concerned this will be a ‘Batman is a founding, and funding, member of the Justice League, but has never revealed his identity’ kind of idea (with all the precautions therein to make sure even the metas can’t guess his identity). There is some speculation throughout the Justice League that Batman does not actually have a civilian identity, that he is the spirit of justice possessing a cape and cowl (Seriously there were three attempted exorcisms).  It is known that Batman always works alone, and that no one is to set foot Gotham, a few of the youngest members disbelieve that Gotham even really exists. 

However there are always rumors that can’t quite be dispelled.  No one in the Justice League can figure out the Watchtower’s firewall (designed by Oracle). Through the years there have been half heard conversations by the JL that almost sound like a wellness check after a fight, going either direction over a com line they can’t access. Sometimes during particularly difficult fights masked strangers will appear, most of which fight with styles similar to Batman, only to vanish again without a word. A few swear they have caught code names (Robin…or maybe Red Robin…Or was it Red Hood…no it was really Black Bat…there might be a BatGirl????) but no one can confirm anything.

In addition, it is impossible to quell the rumor that entering Gotham uninvited means you will disappear.  Not every time and no one can figure out the difference between being escorted out and vanishing, but there have been several heroes from the community who vanished after entering Gotham over the years.

What’s really happening is that I love the Young Justice Team and want a way for it to work with Cryptid BatFam. 

Two of the most notable, the first but certainly not the last, were Bart Allen, Impulse, and Cassie Sandsmark, Wonder Girl who entered the city limits together to try to prove that they too could be heroes. Both were 15 when they vanished.  Unknown to anyone else, at the same time an unnamed clone of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor was also sent into Gotham, as a test of some kind. 

All three of them, for different reasons, entered feeling abandoned or dismissed by the people around them. So when they encountered Tim Drake, as Robin, age 14; he called dibs and adopted them on the spot (Tim: These are my children Cassie, Bart, and the newly named Connor. Yes, I carried them in my very own womb and I am very proud of all of them. No, I will not accept questions. Batkids: Cool! Niblings. Batman<sighs>: At least tell me you didn’t kill someone to acquire them. Tim: I just told you, I birthed them myself).  So Cassie, Bart, and Connor are absorbed into the BatFam. Both Bart and Cassie decide against telling anyone where they are, with Connor not really having anyone to tell.  It should also be noted that the JL avoided asking Batman about the whereabouts of the kids who vanished after entering Gotham, they didn’t want to admit where the kids had gone. 

Three years later, Jason, as Red Hood (Jason did not die here, though it was close. He still took on the moniker of Red Hood after a beating by the Joker), age 19 happens upon Roy Harper, age 20 after Roy had a fight with Oliver and does the same thing. Only Jason dragged Roy home and introduced Roy home as his newest brother, giving Bruce a crazy look that said under no uncertain terms that Bruce better break out the adoption papers immediately; never mind that Roy was not underage.  

At the same time Raven, originally 26, was de aged to about 8 due to an attempted possession by her father, accidentally portals into Gotham and practically climbs Dick Grayson,age 22, in fear. The effects of the spell and the portal wiped her memories past her physical age.  So now Dick has a daughter as well, who he thinks is a Gothamite since he never saw the portal.  As far as anyone from Justice League Dark can tell there was a portal leading to Gotham where Raven disappeared but no one knows what happened (Batman and his family are looking for an adult Raven and never connected her to the 8 year old Rachel that became Dick’s daughter).

Others also disappear, having been adopted by the Waynes

What I am saying is that Gotham is considered quite a bit more dangerous to the caped community and the Batfam encompasses a few people it might not have otherwise. I think it would be funnier if Batman was not aware of his family's cryptid status (It never occurs to him that his kids have never been invited to join any of the younger generation teams).

Something sparks a partial return of Raven’s, now around 14 or 15, memory, enough for Rachel (who is the current Robin) to realize she is Raven. At her request, Batman announces this at a meeting and her intention to remain Dick’s daughter and Bruce’s granddaughter.  The JL react confusingly (they are all losing their collective minds at the thought that Batman has kids AND grandkids).  His response that one of his sons made him a grandfather when the boy was 14 does not inspire confidence.  Eventually, and I do mean this takes ages, it leads to the entire Batfam coming up to the Watchtower.  In spite of the masks Barry recognizes Bart, and after a moment the Wonder’s also recognize Cassie. Both had been desperately missed (the feelings of abandonment had been a misunderstanding).  Though the Wonder’s and the Speedsters both try to hug their missing members, it becomes clear that you can pry them from their mother, Tim, introduced as Red Robin, only when Red Robin is dead. 

The Speedsters look at each other, shrug, and immediately start lobbying Red Robin for Visitation (it does not matter that Tim’s kids are all adults with their own lives in Gotham). The Wonders do not have a chance to do the same as Connor, code name Agent C (he decided he did not want to be a field Vigilante, instead he has taken on a support role, like Alfred, where he is their Mechanic/Mechanical Engineer), drops the bomb that he is a Clone of Superman and Lex Luthor (Connor had not been told enough by the scientists at CADMUS to know what was going on, or even if Lex was aware his DNA was being used but of course the Bats did a DNA, he didn’t even know what the lab was called or where to find it).

Superman does make the connection to CADMUS labs, which he had shut down a few years earlier-though he never put those reports in the Watchtower computers as he considered it an internal matter (Batman would like it noted that all of the Batfam reports end up in the watchtower computer and is irritated that the other heroes do not do the same). 

Connor had been the only ‘viable’ clone but all the records (whether viable or not) had been stamped with ‘failure’, so Superman had not known that there should be a clone of him out there somewhere.  Also the intervening years of being able to process, ‘hey this person I knew, and was once friends with, stole my genetic material to try and create a new person without my consent or knowledge’ without having to deal with the results of said actions (Compounded by the guilt of not being able to look at this miniature version of himself without making the connection to his enemy Lex and his violation, knowing intellectually that it was not Connors fault for being created or that Connor was created specifically to be a weapon against Superman, but still not able move on emotionally, not enough to be responsible for a child) added to the fact that it is pretty clear that Superman does not need to be responsible for Connor means that superman can verify that Connor is happy where he is, which he is. Then Superman can, with a clear conscience-since Batman is undeniably paranoid enough to have a plan if Connor becomes a villain or an actual problem, offer to help with unexpected powers and have Connor meet the rest of his family. 

So Red Robin is simultaneously mediating the reunion between his three children and their other families, all the while ready to take down a Cape that breathes wrong in their direction. 

Red Hood, sans helmet but with a mask, is creatively and rhythmically cursing Green Arrow out on behalf of Roy (I want you to picture a Red Hood that practices and excels in the art of Flyting).  Green Arrow had made an immediate, and poorly phrased, inquiry into Roy sobriety.  Roy has been sober for almost 3 years. 

Damian, codename Firebird, is critiquing several of the last major fights and their fighters while having a discussion about blades and underwater fighting with the Aqua family.  He is also keeping a protective eye on Nightwing and Robin, who are facing off against JLD (who would like to see if what happened to Raven is reversible-mostly to make sure she is healthy and whatever happened is stable, Nightwing and Robin are taking it to mean they want Raven back instead of Robin). 

Steph as Spoiler, Cass as Black Bat, and Duke as Orphan are explaining to a largely horrified audience of former Titans the complicated legacy of the Batman, Robin, and Batgirl names in Gotham (The current Batgirl, Helen Wayne-12 year old daughter of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne- is standing with Bruce and Alfred-mask firmly in place. She is new to the name and this is her first mission outside of Gotham). It is at this point that the Justice League finds out that there are a number of times when the Batman they dealt with was NOT the same person. Someone also brings up the rumor that Batman is actually a haunted piece of clothing, to the entire BatFams bemusement.

At no point during this process does anyone in the Batfam reveal their civilian identities (save the ones that are now known, like Bart, Cassie, and Roy).  They also do not admit to the fact that every single one of them steals and impersonates each other frequently (Tim holds the honor of having patrolled, handled an Arkham breakout, and met with someone outside of Gotham, and handled a world wide invasion in every vigilante identity from Gotham successfully).  

It also should be noted that this does not provide clarity to the Justice League about any topic regarding Gotham or its vigilantes.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Sweet past - ch.4

Summary: You have unwelcome encounter in town. Joel is there to save the day.

Pairing: dbf!Joel x reader

Warnings: mention of death, foul language, angst, a little fluff

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

You didn’t quite believe Joel when he told you the town hadn’t changed, not really. Why would you? Everything changes with time. People, places, memories—nothing is immune. And yet, here you were, standing in the very place you once called home, feeling a strange sense of awe, as if time itself had paused just for this town. As if Joel, once again, was right. That man could be infuriatingly right sometimes.

You smiled to yourself, nostalgia unfurling its delicate tendrils as you recalled simpler days. The way you used to take Sarah out for ice cream when her world had crumbled—something sweet to melt away the bitterness. And the gaming spot where you and your dad spent far too much money. It was almost jarring how vividly those moments returned to you now, as if they’d been waiting in the wings all along. And for once, there was no ache, no bitter aftertaste, no shadow waiting to consume the light. Just memories of a life before it all unraveled.

Maybe Joel wasn’t wrong, after all. Maybe the town hadn’t changed. Maybe it was you who had shifted, who had moved forward while Austin remained steadfast, untouched by the outside world. Time, here, didn’t flow—it lingered, settled like dust, giving the town a kind of stillness that was both eerie and beautiful. As if it existed in a bubble, outside the reach of the years that had reshaped you.

You pulled the list from your pocket, the paper worn and crumpled from being handled too many times, and walked into the small hardware store. You could’ve hired someone to do the work, of course, but your stubborn streak wouldn’t allow it. Even though you weren’t sure if you’d stay, the pull to restore that old house, to breathe life back into it, gnawed at you. It was as if you owed it to the past, to the woman your mother had been, to make it feel like home again.

The store itself hadn’t changed much either. Smaller than most, yet brimming with memories. You’d come here with Joel and your dad, pretending you knew the first thing about construction, but really just there to weigh in on wall colors. Of course, they’d always manage to convince you that the color already on the walls was perfect. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it—how easily they’d swayed you back then, like you were part of some inside joke you never quite understood.

“Look who’s back!” The voice was unmistakable, pulling you from your reverie. You glanced up to see Mark standing by the entrance, a broad grin spreading across his weathered face. He looked almost exactly the same, save for a few more strands of gray weaving through his hair. “Good to see you again, girl!” He gave you a friendly tap on the shoulder, the kind of gesture that didn’t ask too much but said plenty. Mark was never one for hugs, never one for emotional displays. His kindness was quieter, subtler.

“I’m just here to pick up some supplies,” you said, glancing around the store, trying to avoid the way his eyes softened as he looked at you.

“Let me guess, doing it all yourself?” He laughed, the sound deep and hearty, as if it was the most predictable thing in the world. “Stubborn as your old man.”

And there it was, the shift you’d been bracing for. You’d known this conversation was coming, though you had hoped to avoid it, at least for now. Mark’s voice grew gentler, more careful. “I’m sorry about him, kid. If you need help with anything—funeral arrangements, the house—we’re all here. You know that, right? This town’s family.”

You shifted on your feet, uncomfortable with the weight of his sympathy. “Thanks, Mark, but… I already buried him.”

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by something sharper, colder. “What do you mean, you already buried him?” His voice had an edge now, like you’d done something unthinkable.

“Well, I—” You hesitated, caught off guard. “I wanted to do it quickly. I buried him next to my mom. I thought that’s what he’d want.”

“There was no one there but you?” The disbelief in his voice felt like a slap.

You swallowed, feeling his judgment heavy on your chest. “Joel and the girls were there with me… They’ve always been there.”

“And you didn’t think anyone else in this town would want to say goodbye?” His tone sharpened, the anger rising in him like a storm gathering strength. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Your father was a part of this town, part of our lives. You didn’t think it was worth letting us say goodbye?”

“I didn’t think—”

“Of course you didn’t think!” He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Just like you didn’t think when you left him all alone!”

The accusation struck you, sudden and raw. You hadn’t expected this—especially not from Mark. You liked him, but this? This was too much. Something inside you broke open, all the emotions you’d been holding in threatening to spill out. You wouldn’t let him speak like this, not when he had no idea what really happened.

“What the hell do you know about any of this?” Your voice trembled with barely contained fury. You weren’t going to shout, but the venom in your words was unmistakable. “What do you know about why I left?”

“Your father was sick—”

“My father was a drunk!” The words ripped out of you, sharp and jagged. “Sure, the man you all knew was a great father, a pillar of this damn town. But after my mother died? That man disappeared. He became something else, something dark and cruel.”

Mark’s face faltered, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“You think this town is some big, happy family?” You spat the words, anger burning in your throat. “Where the hell were you when he lost his job? When he started drinking himself into oblivion? When I had to drop out of college to support him? Where were you when he hit me on my damn birthday?”

Mark’s eyes widened, shock written all over his face.

“Yeah, I left. I had to. And do you think that decision doesn’t haunt me every single day? I’ve spent three years hating myself for it, for leaving him when he needed me most. But I lost my mom too, Mark. I lost everything, and then I lost him.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through. “So don’t you dare stand here and judge me. Don’t you dare pretend you know what I went through or why I buried him alone with the people who actually mattered, with the people who were there when all of you disappeared.”

You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you wiped away the angry tears, your grief and rage blending into something unbearable.

“I loved my father, despite everything. And I said goodbye to him in the only way I knew how. So back off. You don’t get to pretend you cared.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel and left the store, leaving your basket behind. You didn’t care about the eyes that followed you, or the whispers that began to stir as you pushed open the door. You barely even registered Joel standing outside, fury simmering just beneath the surface of his usually calm demeanor.

You were done with the town’s judgment. Done with pretending everything was okay.

This was your grief, your past. And no one had the right to tell you how to carry it.

**

The air outside the store was thick with tension, like the quiet before a storm. You could still feel your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling as you left the hardware store, leaving behind the sharp sting of Mark’s words. You barely registered Joel standing there, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched. He’d been listening, you realized. He’d heard everything.

You didn’t want to face him right now, didn’t want to deal with the flood of emotions that had just been unleashed in that store. You were too raw, too frayed at the edges. So you kept walking, past him, towards your car. Joel didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the weight of his presence behind you, like the calm that presses down before a tornado hits.

As you reached for your car door, you heard his voice, low and controlled—but carrying an unmistakable anger. “I’ll be right back.”

You glanced over your shoulder, confused, but Joel was already heading into the store, the door swinging shut behind him with a sharp thud. You froze, your hand still on the door handle, the breath caught in your throat.

Inside the hardware store, the moment Joel stormed back in, the air felt different—thick, tense, like the calm had shattered and something heavy was about to drop. Mark was still standing by the counter, his face pale, his fingers gripping the edge as if trying to ground himself. A few people had lingered—curious bystanders, their faces etched with discomfort, though none of them had spoken up when you were being torn apart by Mark’s words.

Joel’s boots hit the wooden floor hard, each step deliberate, his anger palpable in the room. The soft hum of idle conversation had died down completely. The quiet whispers of the onlookers ceased, replaced by the deafening weight of Joel’s presence. He was a man on a mission, and anyone paying attention knew better than to get in his way.

Mark looked up just as Joel reached the counter, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Joel—”

But Joel didn’t let him finish. “What the hell were you thinkin’, talkin’ to her like that?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was cold, low, and dangerous. He wasn’t shouting, but somehow that made it worse. More intense. He was furious, and everyone in the room could feel it.

Mark blinked, clearly caught off guard, but he tried to gather himself, holding up a hand as if to calm Joel down. “Look, Joel, I didn’t mean for it to go that far—”

“You didn’t mean for it?” Joel took a step closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his whole body taut with barely contained rage. “You think that matters? You think it makes a damn difference that you didn’t mean to humiliate her? You had no right to say what you said, Mark.”

Mark’s face flushed red, and he straightened, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I was just saying what a lot of us were thinking, Joel. Her father was a big part of this town. People wanted a chance to say goodbye. I thought she’d understand that.”

“You thought she’d understand?” Joel spat the word like it tasted bitter. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You think she owes you—owes this town—anything after what she’s been through? You weren’t there for her when she needed it most. None of you were.” He shot a pointed glance at the few onlookers who were still standing there, watching but not daring to intervene.

Mark’s eyes flicked to the others, his discomfort growing, but he still tried to defend himself. “That’s not fair, Joel. We didn’t know what was going on behind closed doors. We didn’t know how bad things had gotten.”

Joel’s eyes flared with fury. He stepped forward, so close now that Mark flinched slightly, backing up against the counter. “Didn’t know? Or didn’t want to know? You mean to tell me, in a town this small, no one noticed when her dad started drinkin’ himself half to death? No one saw her struggle to keep that house runnin’? You didn’t hear a thing when she dropped out of college? Or when she had to work her ass off just to keep food on the table?” His voice shook with anger, and his chest heaved with the weight of the words. “No, you all saw. You just didn’t give a damn. And now you wanna act like she’s the one in the wrong? Like she should’ve let you all play pretend at a funeral for a man you barely knew anymore?”

Mark’s face was turning a deep shade of red, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Joel cut him off again.

“You think you knew him, but you didn’t,” Joel growled, his voice low, dangerous. “You knew the man he was before—before her mom died, before he became a shell of himself. But the man she had to live with? He wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the good, kind man this town remembers. He was broken, Mark. And he took that out on her. Day after day.”

The tension in the room was suffocating. The bystanders shifted uncomfortably, some of them looking down at their feet, ashamed. Not one of them had spoken up earlier when you were being torn apart. They’d stood there, watched, but hadn’t said a word.

Mark opened his mouth again, struggling to find his footing in the face of Joel’s onslaught. “Joel, I get it, alright? I get that she’s been through a lot, but—”

“No, you don’t get it,” Joel said, his voice suddenly quieter, but no less intense. He leaned in, his eyes boring into Mark’s. “You don’t get what it’s like to lose the people you love and have no one to turn to. You don’t get what it’s like to be trapped in that house, with a man who used to be your father but turned into somethin’ you barely recognize. You don’t get what it’s like to feel abandoned by the people who claim to be your friends, your neighbors, your family.”

Mark’s breath hitched at Joel’s words, and for the first time, you could see the shame creeping into his features. He looked away, his eyes dropping to the floor, the guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“You didn’t wanna know,” Joel corrected, his voice sharp. “It was easier to ignore, wasn’t it? Easier to just go about your day, pretend everything was fine. Because if you didn’t see it, you didn’t have to do anything about it.”

The room was so silent, you could hear the ticking of the old clock on the wall. The onlookers, those who had stayed to gawk, shifted uneasily. Some of them looked at each other, faces filled with regret, others unable to meet Joel’s gaze.

Joel turned to face them, his voice loud and clear, cutting through the silence like a knife. “You all think she owed you something? You think she should’ve come back here and made everything neat and tidy for your sake?” His eyes swept across the room, landing on each of them in turn. “Where the hell were you when she was barely keeping it together? Where were you when her dad was falling apart and she was left to pick up the pieces? You say this town’s a family, but you didn’t act like one when she needed you.”

The weight of Joel’s words settled over the room, heavy and inescapable. Some of the people looked away, unable to face him, shame and guilt etched into their features. Others simply stood in stunned silence, their faces pale, as if they hadn’t realized, until now, just how deeply they had failed.

Mark, his face flushed, swallowed hard and finally managed to speak, his voice trembling with the weight of his own guilt. “I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t realize…”

“It’s too late for apologies, Mark,” Joel said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “She needed you then, and you weren’t there. Don’t think a few words can make up for that.”

Mark nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Joel’s words. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I should’ve done more. We all should’ve.”

Joel stared at him for a moment, his expression hard, unreadable. Then he took a step back, shaking his head, his anger cooling but still simmering beneath the surface. “You wanna make things right? Stop judging her. Stop thinkin’ she owes you anything. She’s been through enough without you piling more on her. You wanna help? Be there now. But don’t you dare act like she’s the one who’s done wrong here.”

Mark nodded again, his eyes glassy with remorse. “I will. I swear it.”

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his jaw clenched, the anger still lingering in his movements. As he pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling softly, he glanced back one last time at the small group still standing in the store.

“Next time,” he said, his voice steady but full of warning, “if you see someone struggling, don’t just stand there and watch. Do somethin’.”

And with that, he left, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving the store in a heavy, oppressive silence. The weight of Joel’s words hung in the air long after he was gone, and the people in that room knew, deep down, that they would carry that weight for a long time to come.

**

Joel found you sitting in the driver's seat, your face pale, staring ahead at nothing. It was clear you’d heard enough of what had happened back inside the store, but you remained silent, lost somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. He approached quietly, knocking on the passenger window. You blinked, slowly turning your head, your gaze finally meeting his.

“Move, kiddo,” he murmured, the anger that had burned so hot inside him now simmering into something softer, more familiar. His voice was calm, gentle, offering a warmth that made it clear he wasn’t just mad on your behalf—he cared. You frowned, confused, but Joel only nodded toward the seat. “You’re too emotional to drive. Move over, I’ll get us home.”

You hesitated for a second, then glanced down at your trembling hands. The adrenaline was still pumping through you, your heart racing, eyes glassy with unshed tears. With a shaky breath, you nodded, agreeing with him. Without a word, you got out and slipped into the passenger seat, barely glancing back at the store that had now become a site of confrontation and hurt.

Joel started the car, the engine humming beneath you as the town slowly faded into the distance. The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt... necessary. Like the words you wanted to say needed time to form properly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, breaking the quiet. Your voice sounded fragile, like it could crack at any moment. “For standing up for me.”

Joel glanced over, his expression softening as the fire that had been in his eyes earlier cooled into something protective, something safe. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll always stand up for you. Always.”

His words wrapped around you, warm and comforting, but they also stirred something deep inside, a part of you that was still trying to make sense of it all. You turned to the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, feeling like a stranger in the town that had once been your entire world. You couldn’t shake the ache in your chest, the gnawing sense of guilt that lingered despite everything Joel had said and done. Maybe not inviting anyone to the funeral had been a mistake, but it had been your decision—yours and Joel’s. Your goodbye, on your terms.

After what felt like forever, you noticed Joel had passed the turn to your house. Then, another. Your confusion grew, and you finally broke the silence.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing over at him.

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “I’m gettin’ hungry,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when he saw your puzzled expression.

Suddenly, a memory flashed in your mind—one of those moments from a time when things were simpler. A night that seemed like it belonged to another lifetime.

***

You didn’t know who else to call that night. The last bus had left just seconds before you made it to the station. It was the final nail in a day that had already gone terribly wrong. You’d been late for work, cleaning up after your dad’s drunken mess. He had been sick again, throwing up vodka from the night before, leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

Your boss hadn’t been any kinder about it either. The customers had been impatient, stingy with tips, and you were running on fumes, too tired to keep up. When your shift ended, your boss kept you late to clean—punishment for being late, even though it had only been by three minutes. You felt defeated, worn out from fighting battles no one knew about.

So, you called Joel. It was almost midnight, and the guilt gnawed at you for waking him up. You could hear the sleep in his voice, though he insisted he’d been watching a movie, playing it off as if he’d been wide awake. But you knew better.

When he pulled up, he didn’t ask questions. “Get in, kiddo,” he said, his voice gravelly but kind. You climbed into the passenger seat, your hands still trembling from the day’s stress. 

“I’m sorry,” you had started, your voice shaking with the weight of everything—apologizing for calling so late, for needing him when you felt like such a burden. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Joel handed you a tissue from the glove compartment without a word, his gaze focused ahead. “You didn’t make me do anything,” he replied, that steady calm of his making you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t such a bother after all. “Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

“I’m hungry,” you had whispered, looking out the window to avoid his eyes.

“It’s nearly midnight, kid. Ain’t nothin’ open around here,” Joel had replied, missing the way you were already scrolling through your old, cracked phone.

“There’s a place about twenty minutes out of town,” you had offered quietly. “Their wings are good.”

Joel had sighed, his tone exasperated but laced with affection. “Twenty minutes?” He was tired; you could hear it. His voice, the way his shoulders sagged—everything about him told you he needed sleep.

You immediately regretted it. “Never mind,” you mumbled, your voice small. “I’ll eat something at home.”

But Joel, being Joel, saw through your words, saw the truth hidden behind them. He knew you didn’t want to go home. Home wasn’t a place where you could relax, not with your dad’s drinking, not with the weight of everything that had happened.

“Give me the damn phone,” he had grumbled, taking it from your hand. And for the first time that day, you had smiled, a real smile, though it hadn’t quite reached your eyes.

***

The memory faded, and you found yourself back in Joel’s truck, the quiet hum of the engine beneath you, the road stretching out into the night. You looked over at him, the corners of your mouth lifting just a bit.

“Wings sound good?” Joel asked, his eyes flicking over to you for a moment before returning to the road.

“Yeah,” you whispered, that small smile lingering. “Wings sound good.”

And in that moment, driving away from the pain, the anger, and the guilt, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

***

The drive to the diner was quiet, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind of silence. It was the kind that felt right after everything that had happened. You were both just… being. Breathing. Letting the day slowly dissolve in the rearview mirror.

When you arrived, it was one of those roadside spots, tucked away from the main stretch of town. It looked like it had been here for decades, with its faded neon sign blinking intermittently. Inside, the place was almost empty, the distant hum of country music playing softly from an old jukebox in the corner. It felt like a time capsule, a world away from the chaos you’d left behind.

Joel ordered a plate of extra spicy buffalo wings, and as they were placed in front of you, your face lit up in a way that was contagious. You picked up a wing, took a bite, and your entire body reacted, doing that tiny little happy dance you always did when something tasted particularly good.

“I fucking love these,” you exclaimed, your voice a little louder than usual, a gleam of joy in your eyes that Joel couldn’t help but admire. You chuckled as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “My boss would kill me if I ever suggested putting these on the menu.”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes fixed on you, watching the way you relished in the simplest pleasures. That’s what he loved about you, the way you could find light even on the darkest days. “You’re enjoyin’ yourself,” he observed, his smile easy, but his voice probing just a little deeper.

You paused for a second, his question catching you off guard. It wasn’t just about the wings, you knew that. No one had really asked you if you enjoyed anything lately—if you really enjoyed it.

“I started because it was easy money, you know?” you admitted, picking up your beer and taking a long sip. You sighed contentedly as the cold sweetness mixed with the heat of the wings. “But then I realized I was good at it. I had this chef who taught me everything. He made me his sous-chef in less than a year. And I guess I do enjoy it… it’s kind of an escape, I suppose. It lets me forget about everything else.”

Your voice faltered a little on those last words, the weight of your reality briefly slipping through the cracks. Joel heard it, even if you tried to hide it.

“I’d love to taste something made by you,” he said, his voice softer now. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were warm, like they were offering you a quiet place to rest.

Your heart swelled at the thought, a smile pulling at your lips. “I’d cook you something amazing,” you promised, your mind already racing with possibilities. The idea of sharing something so personal with Joel made your chest tighten, not with fear, but with excitement. Your eyes sparkled, the heavy clouds from earlier in the day seeming to drift away for just a moment.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he took a sip of his own drink. “Then it’s a date,” he teased, just as you were taking another sip of your Coke. You nearly choked on it, the word “date” hanging in the air between you like an unexpected spark.

The awkward little laugh you let out made Joel smile wider. He didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed or the way your fingers fumbled with the glass. It was in these small, unguarded moments that you unknowingly captured his heart—more than you probably ever realized.

He watched as you gathered yourself, clearing your throat and trying to act like you hadn’t just blushed at his teasing. It filled him with a strange sense of pride, knowing he could help you relax like this. But beneath the lightheartedness, there was something else too—something that made his heart skip a beat when he saw that little flustered look on your face. And that scared him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You placed your drink down and stared at Joel for a moment, your smile softening as the weight of everything you’d been through together seemed to catch up with you. “I’m really lucky to have you, you know that?” Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Joel’s chest tighten.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, more protective. He didn’t always know how to deal with emotions, but he knew how to show up when it mattered. And for you, he’d always show up.

“Kiddo,” he said after a beat, his voice steady and sure, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

And with that, the world outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Went on a walk. Which fic idea should I start with first y’all?

James Potter going on a date with Regulus Black. It’s perfect, until he learns that Regulus is in fact trans… that’s not the problem, though. The problem is that he’s being hunted down by his parents and many siblings, because they think the “daughter” of the family has drawn shame onto the Black family… and at the same time, James gets to know a really nice man who soon is his best friend, Sirius… ❤️JEGULUS❤️ (sad af ending and really scary story in general)

Harry Potter learns new things about his magical core, and how he can use it to travel, not only in time, but also between universes… 💚DRARRY💚 (this is just a small concept so far)

What if Harry had been the one protecting Lily, that fateful night… but somehow they both survived?

Draco Malfoy is almost killed in the battle of Hogwarts, but Narcissa steps in between and saves him… and before he can even blink, Harry Potter isn’t the only survivor of the Killing Curse anymore… now there are two, and two lightning bolt scars in this world, but on two different people who also happen to loath each other… 💚DRARRY💚

In the battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy summons Harry Potter’s wand just as Voldemort is about to face death… and he does. But to everyone’s surprise, he faces death by the very hands of Draco Malfoy. Not long after, Draco Malfoy seems to vanish off of Earth’s surface… 💚DRARRY💚

Harry Potter attends his seventh year at Hogwarts. He learns about the mythical creature that is the siren, a bit different than what Muggles think about these creatures… he learns that it is rare, but it happens… sometimes sirens find love in a human. Sometimes they have children. The very same year, the students at Hogwarts learn that Harry Potter has a very strange talent. He can sing. But his voice isn’t your average singing voice. Strange things happen when he sings. It’s like a repeat of when the whole school learnt that he was a Parselmouth… the strangest thing is, Parselmouth is a talent that only a few wizards, one of them happening to be Harry, share with… sirens. And while all this happens, Harry suddenly feels a strange connection with the sea. One of the reasons may be the strange creature he finds there one day. Not too unlike a siren, but still something completely different… a Selkie. Maybe you can guess who the Selkie is? 💚DRARRY💚 (The description is so bad, I’m tired ok? I have a whole cool idea in my head tho and no it’s NOT this bad in my head I swear-)

Uh. Yuh.

[pocketramblr]

AU where Hisashi calls Izuku regularly while he works overseas and one day Hisashi tells Izuku about his new boyfriend who is very sweet to him and unfortunately got into a bad accident many years ago that left him disabled so Hisashi helps care for him.Izuku later finds out this boyfriend is AFO.

why would you leave inko for afo. 'hold on yeah i think i'll leave this priceless bahia emerald and skip town and then i found a broken piece of chalk instead.' my guy. you deserve all might stealing your son.

1- ok so. Hisashi is an accountant who moves to new york to make more money. He and inko officially divorce, which means Izuku takes the Midoriya name and Inko has sole custody, but while Hisashi does not have to pay child support or alimony, he does opt to send them some support and tries to stay in contact because i guess his taste in men was so bad that he and inko just work better as friends. good for them ig.

2- actually Hisashi is just straight up color-blind: he can't see any red flags. Its not just his personal tastes. this man has worked for four separate blatant money laundering schemes since he went abroad. he has no clue. this is how he ends up coming into contact with AfO, but AfO's job offering is too indirect and vague, and Hisashi is like 'are you... flirting with me?' instead, but AfO can work with that. And while Hisashi certainly isn't a genius with people or warning signs, i will give him (and inko) this: he's a great lay.

3- He's also a very caring boyfriend, which was part of the problem with inko, they ended up really inciting each other's anxieties, but AfO likes being pampered so he decides to keep Hisashi around even if he isn't a employee. even better really, that he doesn't have to pay, bribe, quirkify, dequirkify, or threaten him. Hisashi, as a bit of a doting boyfriend, also has a lot to say about the man to others, so Izuku ends up hearing a lot of gushing over the phone as he's training with weights and is a bit too out of breath to change the topic. plus, he doesn't want to bring up going to UA until its a sure thing, his dad will definitely freak out about it not being safe. finally he tells his dad he got in, and hisashi is like 'oh yeah, cuz they changed the rules, which track?' and izuku goes 'oh uh hero track and alsoihaveaquirknowitscalledsuperpower oh look at that moms calling me for dinner sorry bye.'

4. Dazed, Hisashi gushes about his son to his boyfriend later, dropping that izuku's going to become a hero at ua, what a surprise- but, well, he supposes his son has always loved to watch heroes...

AfO is like 'hm. being a hero isn't very safe...' ('i know...') 'why don't you try to push him to visit you? keep him safe. maybe in a safe. don't you just wanna keep a hold of him?' ("i do, but that'll only drive him away. he's growing up... besides, if i was busy only keeping watch over him, who'd take care of you?") 'mm, good point. keep prioritizing me, i will neither put a hit on the kid as competition nor do anything to keep him safer.'

5. Reveal... uh yeah so Hisashi does mention to Izuku when his boyfriend goes missing, sometimes he gets called to work suddenly but he's never been gone this long, he's worried, is he restocking his meds, where is he? oh yeah, he vanished around Kamino. unfortunate, but not incriminating on its own. What IS incriminating is rewound!AfO, looking at Izuku with a tilted head. "I can see bits of Hisashi in you, hm. Just the worst bits, luckily." Izuku starts realizing what this means. Bakugo distracts him and blasts him to the Shigaraki fight, because he also started to realize what it meant and simply did not want to deal with hearing anymore of that. Over at the ShigarAfO fight, AfO tries to keep throwing Izuku (and tomura) off their game by wondering if Hisashi will find this new, younger body nice as well- probably, its not like the man had the highest standards. Izuku and Tomura are united in such abosolute done-ness with AfO that he's immediately snuffed out of Tomura's head and nothing remains behind. Tomura is like 'uh, do you want a day's break and then a rematch because i need to bleach my brain' but izuku is like 'oh no i need to punch someone through a mountain rn, lets keep going while i reform you with the power of friendship and incredible violence.' (By unspoken agreement, neither Izuku, Bakugo, or Tomura ever breathe a word about it to anyone, much less to Hisashi.)