#still a curious constellation though

[solxamber]

Waaaah Cuteness aggression was so cool! Could you make a part 2 with Malleus, Rook, Lilia and Jamil? Thos Boys deserve all the love there is and I think the scenario would be funny. xD

Hope ur well and drink some water 💕

Cuteness Agression with: Malleus, Rook, Lilia, Jamil, Riddle, Leona

Part 1 with: Idia, Cater, Octatrio

a/n: requests are closed but the concept was so cute that i can't control myself lmao and added Riddle and Leona cause i'm down bad. and thank you and i will <3

Malleus Draconia

Malleus Draconia was intimidating to most people. To you, however, he was simply too cute for his own good.

His regal demeanor, the way his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the slight tilt of his head when he was curious—it all triggered an overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to smother him in affection. Of course, being in a relationship with the crown prince of Briar Valley came with expectations. Decorum. Restraint.

You ignored all of that entirely.

The first time it happened, you’d been walking together through the gardens late at night. Malleus was pointing out constellations, his voice low and melodic, when he glanced at you, his lips curling into a soft smile.

“Do you not find the stars enchanting?” he asked, his tone gentle.

It wasn’t the stars that enchanted you, though. It was him—his sharp features softened by the glow of fireflies, his kind, unguarded expression.

“Uh-huh, yeah, stars,” you said distractedly, before grabbing his wrist. “Malleus, come here.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah. You’re too cute.”

Before he could protest, you dragged him off the path and into the shade of a tree.

“What are you—”

“You’ll understand,” you muttered, cupping his face and smothering him in kisses.

His breath hitched at first, his body stiffening, but he quickly melted into the affection. “Child of man, I—”

“Kisses now. Talking later,” you said, planting another kiss on the tip of his nose.

When you finally pulled away, Malleus looked utterly dazed. His cheeks were faintly flushed, his pupils blown wide, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“…You are quite... spirited,” he managed after a moment. “I was unaware my presence inspired such... fervor.”

“Fervor? I call it love,” you said with a grin, pressing one last kiss to his jaw.

Malleus chuckled, the sound warm and low. “If this is your way of expressing love, I find it most agreeable.”

It became a regular occurrence after that. Anytime Malleus did something you found unbearably endearing—which was often—you’d whisk him away for a smothering session.

When he brought you a bouquet of perfectly arranged roses with a rare flower from Briar Valley nestled in the center? You kissed him until he forgot how to form words.

When he tilted his head in that adorable, inquisitive way, asking, “Why does Sebek insist on shouting so often?” You had to physically restrain yourself from dragging him into the nearest alcove right then and there.

Even when he was just being his usual princely self, you couldn’t help it. The way he carried himself with quiet dignity, his cloak billowing behind him like something out of a fairy tale—it all made your heart practically explode.

One particularly memorable moment occurred in the middle of a ceremony. Malleus, dressed in his ceremonial robes, stood tall and composed, his expression serene. But then, he caught your eye from across the room and gave you the tiniest smile.

That was it. Your brain short-circuited.

You grabbed his hand the moment the ceremony ended. “Malleus. Now.”

“Is something urgent?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Yes. You’re too cute and I’m about to lose my mind,” you whispered, dragging him behind a pillar.

“Child of man, we are still in public—”

“Shh,” you said, cupping his face and peppering kisses all over it.

Malleus froze for a moment before sighing, his hands settling on your waist. “You are relentless,” he murmured, though his tone was fond.

“And you love it,” you replied, grinning against his cheek.

“…That, I cannot deny,” he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple in return.

Despite his initial confusion, Malleus seemed to delight in your affection.

One evening, as you sat together in the Ramshackle lounge, he watched you with a soft, amused expression. “Do you truly find me so... endearing?”

“You have no idea,” you said, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s criminal.”

Malleus chuckled, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Then I shall endeavor to remain... criminally endearing for you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. “You’re too perfect,” you muttered, leaning in to kiss him again.

“And yet, it is I who am fortunate,” Malleus replied softly, holding you close.

If anyone had told you that the fearsome prince of Briar Valley would be so utterly smitten with your relentless affection, you wouldn’t have believed them. But here he was, letting you smother him in kisses without a single complaint.

To Malleus, your love was as enchanting as the stars he so often spoke of. And to you, he was the brightest star of all.

Rook Hunt

Rook Hunt was accustomed to being noticed. Whether it was the way he carried himself with theatrical elegance or the poetic way he spoke, most people couldn’t help but take notice. But you—you were something else entirely.

You didn’t just admire him; you practically vibrated with cuteness aggression every time he flashed that dazzling smile.

The first time it happened, you and Rook were in the woods behind Pomefiore. He’d just finished a long-winded, flowery description of the autumn foliage, his emerald eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, when he turned to you with an expectant smile.

“Mon trésor, do you not find it magnifique?” he asked, gesturing to the fiery canopy above.

You didn’t even look at the trees. “You’re magnifique,” you blurted, already grabbing his wrist.

His brows lifted. “Ah? What is this sudden passion?”

“You’re too cute, Rook. I can’t take it,” you said, pulling him behind a cluster of trees.

“Ah, je suis flatté! But—” His words were cut off as you cupped his face and started pressing kisses all over it.

“Do you have any idea how unfair it is to look this good all the time?” you muttered between kisses.

Rook, to his credit, didn’t resist. Instead, he let out an amused laugh, his hands settling on your shoulders. “Ma chérie, you honor me with such fervent affection. I am truly overwhelmed!”

“Good,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose for emphasis.

When you finally pulled away, Rook’s cheeks were flushed, and his grin was impossibly wide. “Quelle passion! You are truly a marvel, mon amour.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you muttered, dragging him back to the trail. “Just stop being so cute, or I’ll do it again.”

“Ah, a most delightful threat!” he said, his laugh echoing through the woods.

It became a regular occurrence. Anytime Rook did something you deemed unbearably charming—which was often—you’d whisk him away for a smothering session.

When he recited impromptu poetry about the way the sunlight danced on your hair? You grabbed his hand and dragged him into an empty classroom.

When he surprised you with a bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers and a heartfelt sonnet? You tackled him onto the nearest bench and kissed him until you were both breathless.

Even when he was just lounging in the Pomefiore lounge, reading a book with his legs crossed in that infuriatingly graceful way, you’d have to physically restrain yourself from interrupting him.

One particularly memorable instance occurred in the Mostro Lounge. You were sitting with Rook and the rest of your friends, enjoying a rare moment of calm, when Rook leaned over to whisper something in your ear.

“You look radiant tonight, mon amour,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

That was it. Your brain short-circuited.

“Rook. Come with me,” you said, grabbing his hand.

“Ah, but our companions—”

“They’ll survive,” you said, dragging him out the door.

When you reached a quiet hallway, you pushed him against the wall and immediately started peppering his face with kisses.

“Mon dieu,” Rook gasped, though his grin was nothing short of delighted. “You are relentless, ma chère!”

“And you love it,” you said, punctuating your words with a kiss to his cheek.

“That is true,” he admitted, his hands resting lightly on your waist. “Your passion is as boundless as the stars themselves.”

Rook, ever the romantic, seemed to thrive on your bouts of affection.

One day, as you sat together on the steps of Ramshackle Dorm, he turned to you with a curious expression. “Tell me, mon amour, what is it about me that inspires such... ferocity?”

You paused, considering his question. “Everything,” you said finally. “The way you talk, the way you smile, the way you somehow make everything look effortlessly elegant. It’s infuriating, Rook.”

He laughed, his eyes shining with amusement. “Ah, to be adored so fiercely—it is a privilege I do not take lightly.”

“You better not,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again.

Rook sighed contentedly, his arms wrapping around you. “Mon trésor, your love is a treasure beyond compare. To be the object of such affection... I am truly blessed.”

If anyone had told you that Rook Hunt—Pomefiore’s poetic, theatrical huntsman—would enjoy being smothered in kisses at every opportunity, you wouldn’t have believed them. But here he was, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as you showered him with affection.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lilia Vanrouge

You always thought you had a pretty good handle on your emotions. Calm, collected, rational—those were the words you’d have used to describe yourself. But then, Lilia Vanrouge entered your life, and with him, your sense of self-control promptly packed its bags and left the building.

How could anyone expect you to act normal when he was that cute?

It started innocently enough. Lilia had been helping you tidy up Ramshackle Dorm one evening. He was humming some cheerful, old-timey tune while he dusted the bookshelves, floating effortlessly in the air as if gravity was just a suggestion.

You were trying to focus on organizing a stack of books, but every time you glanced up and saw his wide, mischievous grin and those bright, playful eyes, your heart would squeeze painfully.

Finally, you snapped.

“Lilia,” you said, your voice a little too tight.

“Yes, my dear?” he replied, flipping upside down mid-air to look at you.

“Come here,” you said, setting the books down with trembling hands.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, curious, but floated down to meet you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the couch. “You’re just too cute, and I can’t take it anymore.”

Lilia blinked, utterly bemused, as you pushed him onto the couch and immediately started peppering his face with kisses.

“My, my!” he laughed, his voice lilting with amusement. “What brought this on?”

“You!” you said, punctuating your words with more kisses. “You’re adorable! How am I supposed to function when you’re like this all the time?”

Lilia laughed again, a sound so warm and joyful that it only made your aggression worse. “You’re quite passionate, aren’t you?” he teased, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“You have no idea,” you muttered, before resuming your assault on his cheeks.

From that day on, it became a regular occurrence.

Any time Lilia did something you deemed unbearably adorable—like floating upside down while carrying a tray of tea, or singing one of his nonsensical little songs—you’d drag him away to smother him in kisses.

Lilia, of course, thought it was hilarious.

“Is this what the you'd call ‘cuteness aggression?’” he asked once, as you squished his cheeks between your hands and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Yes,” you said, not pausing in your efforts.

“Fascinating!” he said, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t realize I had such an effect on you.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” you grumbled. “You’re impossible, Lilia.”

“And yet, you adore me,” he said, grinning cheekily.

You sighed, exasperated but hopelessly smitten. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

One day, you were sitting in the Diasomnia lounge, trying to read a book while Lilia floated lazily around the room. He wasn’t even doing anything particularly remarkable—just flipping through a magazine—but every now and then, he’d let out an amused hum or a soft chuckle, and it would send your heart into overdrive.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you said, standing up abruptly.

“Yes, my darling?” he said, peering over the top of his magazine.

“Come here.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile already forming on his lips. “Feeling overwhelmed again?”

“Just shut up and come here,” you said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the room.

Sebek, who had been studying at the nearby table, sputtered indignantly. “Human! What are you—”

“Later, Sebek,” you said, waving him off.

Once you were alone in the hallway, you wasted no time. Pulling Lilia close, you buried your face in his neck and started pressing kisses along his jawline.

“Goodness,” Lilia said, though his laughter made it clear he wasn’t exactly complaining. “You really are incorrigible, aren’t you?”

“You love it,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

“That, I do,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around you.

Lilia might have been a centuries-old fae with countless stories and secrets to his name, but in your eyes, he was just your incredibly cute, endlessly lovable partner. And if that meant you had to drag him away for impromptu affection sessions on a regular basis, so be it.

Besides, judging by the way he always laughed and kissed you back, you had a feeling he didn’t mind one bit.

Jamil Viper

It started as a typical day at NRC: chaotic, mildly life-threatening, and somehow made worse by your inability to contain yourself whenever Jamil Viper was within a 10-foot radius.

You’d known for a while that Jamil was attractive—his sharp features, calm demeanor, and the way he moved with quiet precision made it hard to miss. But it was the little things that tipped you over the edge. Like the way his hair swayed when he walked, or how he absentmindedly hummed while chopping vegetables in the kitchen. The final straw? The rare moments when his lips would quirk into a tiny, private smile.

Every time you saw him, the urge to grab him, kiss him senseless, and smother him with affection became overwhelming.

And today was no different.

You were sitting in the lounge at Scarabia, watching Jamil supervise a group of first-years trying (and failing) to prepare a dish. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, an air of quiet authority radiating from him.

But then it happened.

He sighed, shaking his head as he stepped in to salvage the mess. His hair swung over his shoulder, catching the light, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he muttered something about "how hard is it to chop onions properly?"

Your brain short-circuited.

Before you knew it, you were on your feet.

“Jamil,” you said, your voice slightly too loud.

He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What is it?”

“Come with me,” you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the hallway.

“What—hey, wait a second,” he protested, glancing back at the confused first-years. “I’m in the middle of—”

“Later!” you said, dragging him into an empty corridor and shutting the door behind you.

“Do I even want to know what this is about?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a skeptical look.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you cupped his face in your hands and started peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead.

“Wha—!” Jamil stiffened, his ears turning red. “What are you doing?!”

“You’re too cute, and I can’t handle it!” you declared, kissing the tip of his nose for emphasis.

“...Cute?” he repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

“Yes, cute!” you said, moving to his jawline. “How are you this adorable and this oblivious? It’s not fair!”

“Oblivious?” He frowned, though the pink dusting his cheeks betrayed his flustered state. “I’m not—this is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you countered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “Ridiculously cute.”

Jamil groaned, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, his hands resting hesitantly on your waist.

“And yet, here you are, letting me smother you with affection,” you teased, pulling back just enough to plant a kiss on his lips.

That finally broke him. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he said, though there was a warmth in his voice that made your heart flutter.

“You could start by kissing me back,” you suggested cheekily.

“...Fine,” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile before he leaned down to kiss you properly.

Over time, Jamil got used to your random bursts of affection—well, as much as someone like him could get used to it.

One afternoon, he was studying in the library when you walked in, spotted him, and immediately felt the familiar wave of cuteness aggression wash over you.

“Jamil!” you whispered loudly, earning a warning glare from the librarian.

He looked up from his book, his expression wary. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his chair.

“Do you have any self-control?” he asked, though he didn’t resist as you dragged him into the nearest empty study room.

“Not when it comes to you,” you admitted, grinning as you pushed him against the wall and started kissing him all over again.

“You’re incorrigible,” he said, though his voice was softer now, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“And you’re perfect,” you replied, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Jamil sighed, but the faint smile on his lips betrayed his true feelings. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Oh, I know,” you said, leaning in for another kiss.

And despite his grumbling, you could tell he didn’t mind one bit.

It was a quiet morning in Scarabia, the kind where the golden sunlight filtered through the ornate windows, casting patterns on the tiled floors. Jamil had just finished his early chores and was enjoying a rare moment of peace, sitting at the dining table with a cup of tea.

You, however, had other plans.

You had woken up early, groggy but immediately aware that Jamil wasn’t beside you. After a quick search, you found him in the dining room, looking effortlessly handsome as he sipped his tea. His hair was still slightly damp from a morning shower, and the soft lighting only made him more unfairly perfect.

It hit you like a tidal wave: the urge to smother him with affection was too strong to resist.

Jamil glanced up as you approached, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. But the way he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, paired with the serene look on his face, made you snap.

Without a word, you pounced.

“Wha—hey!” Jamil barely had time to set his tea down before you climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“You’re too cute!” you declared, pressing kisses to his temple, cheeks, and jawline.

“It’s seven in the morning,” he said, exasperated but not pushing you away. “Can’t you wait until I’ve had at least one full cup of tea?”

“Nope,” you said, smiling against his cheek. “You’re cuter than tea, and I need my morning dose of Jamil.”

He sighed, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist to steady you.

“And yet, you’re still letting me do this,” you teased, brushing your nose against his before planting a firm kiss on his lips.

“Because if I stop you, you’ll just pout and make it worse,” he said, though his voice was tinged with amusement.

“Exactly,” you said smugly.

Jamil shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“Unfortunately for my sanity,” he admitted, finally giving in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yes, I do.”

You beamed, your heart swelling at his rare show of affection. “See? This is why you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Am I?” he asked dryly, though there was no hiding the warmth in his tone.

“Absolutely,” you said, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “And you’re lucky I like you.”

The words, a playful echo of what he often said to you, made him chuckle softly. “I suppose I am,” he said, his gaze softening as he leaned in to kiss you again.

The moment was perfect—quiet, intimate, and filled with a warmth that lingered long after you finally let him finish his tea.

Leona Kingscholar

It was midday, and Leona had naturally gravitated to his favorite pastime—napping. The way the golden sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a glow on his skin and tousled hair, made him look like a scene out of a painting.

You should’ve left him alone, let him nap in peace.

But no. You weren’t strong enough.

“Leona,” you whispered, crouching beside the couch where he lay sprawled out.

One eye cracked open, his voice a low, lazy rumble. “What d’ya want? Can’t a guy nap in peace?”

“Not when you look this cute,” you said, voice strained as you wrestled with your cuteness aggression.

His eye narrowed suspiciously, but before he could move, you pounced. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you planted a flurry of kisses on his face, starting with his cheek, then his forehead, then the bridge of his nose.

“Oi! Get off, you crazy herbivore!” he protested, but his laughter betrayed his words.

“Not until you stop being so perfect!” you declared, squishing his face between your hands to kiss him properly.

Leona groaned, but he didn’t push you away, even as he tried to keep up the act of annoyance. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, giving him one last peck before finally letting him breathe.

You had spotted him in the dining hall, casually sitting at a table and picking at a plate of meat with that trademark nonchalance. His ears twitched slightly at the sounds around him, and he occasionally flicked his tail, his every movement smooth and effortless.

It was unfair, really.

“Leona!” you called, practically running to him.

He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What now? Can’t I even eat without you harassing me?”

“Nope,” you replied with a grin. “Not when you look this cute.”

“Don’t start—”

Too late. You grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of the chair, ignoring his grumbling as you dragged him to a quiet corner.

“Are you serious?” he asked, looking half-annoyed and half-amused.

“Dead serious,” you said, cupping his face and peppering him with kisses. His ears flattened slightly as his cheeks flushed, but he still didn’t stop you.

“You’re so embarrassing,” he muttered, though the small smile on his lips betrayed him.

“And you’re adorable,” you shot back, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Just don’t expect me to say it back.”

Leona had taken you to a quiet spot to watch the stars, a rare moment of tranquility for the two of you. He lay back on the grass, one arm behind his head, as he pointed out constellations with a lazy smirk.

You were trying to focus on the stars, really. But the way his voice rumbled when he spoke, the way his tail lazily swished back and forth, the way his eyes glimmered like jewels under the moonlight—it was too much.

“Leona,” you said softly, turning to look at him.

“Hm?”

“You’re too cute.”

His eyebrow twitched. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope,” you said, sitting up and leaning over him. “I have to kiss you or I’ll explode.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” he teased, but he didn’t move as you leaned down to kiss him.

The first kiss was soft, then the second, then the third. Before you knew it, you were practically smothering him with affection, and Leona was laughing—actually laughing—as he let you do as you pleased.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

“And you’re perfect,” you replied, grinning down at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, pulling you down to rest against his chest. “Just stay here, you crazy herbivore.”

It was early morning, and Leona was still in bed, sprawled out like a lazy lion as usual. You had come to wake him up, but the sight of him—sleep-tousled hair, slightly grumpy expression, and one arm draped over his eyes—made your heart practically burst.

“Leona,” you said, shaking his shoulder gently.

“Go away,” he grumbled, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Nope,” you said, yanking the blanket off him. “You’re too cute, and I can’t deal with it.”

“Not this again,” he groaned, but before he could stop you, you climbed onto the bed and started kissing him awake.

“Oi! Quit it!” he protested, though his laughter made it clear he wasn’t actually mad.

“Never!” you declared, peppering his face with kisses. “This is what you get for being adorable.”

“You’re insane,” he muttered, though his arms came up to wrap around you.

“And you love it,” you replied, grinning as you kissed the tip of his nose.

Leona sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips as he pulled you closer. “Yeah, I do. Now let me sleep, you menace.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts prided himself on composure, discipline, and always adhering to the rules. He was Heartslabyul's steadfast leader, a paragon of order in a sea of chaos. But there was one thing he had no preparation for—you.

Your habit of getting cuteness aggression whenever you saw him was the one thing Riddle couldn’t figure out how to manage. Every time you dragged him away to smother him in affection, it left him flustered, red-faced, and utterly disarmed.

It started innocently enough that day. You’d been helping with the tea party preparations, setting out the sugar cubes in neat stacks, when Riddle appeared to check the arrangements. As always, he was dressed immaculately, his little crown on his head, and his expression firm as he inspected the table.

That’s when it hit you. The way his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration and how his gloved fingers adjusted a teacup ever so slightly made your heart explode.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Riddle,” you called, voice dangerously sweet.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Yes? Is something—oh!”

Before he could finish, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the maze, ignoring his startled protests.

“W-What are you doing?” he stammered, struggling to keep up as you dragged him down a secluded pathway.

“You’re too cute, and I can’t handle it,” you declared, finding a quiet spot among the roses.

Riddle blinked at you, completely taken aback. “I—What are you talking about? That’s absurd!”

“You’re absurdly adorable,” you corrected, cupping his face in your hands. His cheeks were already dusted with pink, and you knew you were about to make it worse.

“Stop this at once!” he tried to say, but his voice faltered as you peppered kisses all over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose—you didn’t leave an inch untouched.

“Hey—” he spluttered, his hands hovering awkwardly by his sides as if unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. “Th-This is highly improper! We’re supposed to be preparing for the tea party!”

“We can’t have a tea party if I’m dying from how cute you are,” you countered, pulling back just enough to give him a cheeky grin. “This is life-saving first aid.”

Riddle’s lips parted, clearly about to deliver a stern lecture, but the words never came. Instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now.

“Impossible to resist?” you teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, but this time he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a small, exasperated laugh, shaking his head. “You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” you said confidently, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I—” Riddle started to protest, but he stopped himself, glancing down at you with a reluctant smile. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

His quiet admission made your heart do somersaults, and you couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter.

Later, when you finally returned to the tea party preparations, Trey gave Riddle a knowing look as he noticed the slight smudge of lipstick on his cheek.

“You look like you’ve been... preoccupied,” Trey said lightly.

Riddle cleared his throat, hastily wiping his cheek with a napkin. “Nonsense! Everything is perfectly under control.”

But as he adjusted his tie and avoided your amused gaze, you could tell he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Riddle was meticulously organizing the Heartslabyul ledger, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sat at his desk in the library. His diligence was admirable, but it was also your doom.

The way his fingers adjusted his pen with precision, his lips pursing in thought, and the faint pink tint on his cheeks from the afternoon sun streaming through the windows—he was just too much.

You didn’t stand a chance.

“Riddle,” you whispered conspiratorially, sneaking up behind him.

“Hmm?” he replied absently, his focus not wavering.

You leaned closer, your lips near his ear. “I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t kiss you right now.”

That got his attention. His hand froze mid-stroke, and he turned to you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue. Gently grabbing his shoulders, you pulled him into your arms and planted a flurry of kisses on his face. One on his temple, one on his cheek, and a quick peck on his lips for good measure.

“You—” he gasped, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and delight. “This is a library! Have you no sense of decorum?”

“None whatsoever,” you admitted, grinning as you pressed another kiss to his nose. “You’re way too cute when you’re working. It’s unfair.”

Riddle tried to glare at you, but the way his lips twitched upward betrayed him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you said smugly, brushing your nose against his.

He huffed but didn’t push you away. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you.”

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when you wandered into the Heartslabyul common room, groggy and still rubbing sleep from your eyes. You hadn’t expected anyone to be awake yet, let alone Riddle, who was already immaculately dressed and sipping tea by the fireplace.

The sight of him, with his perfectly styled hair and composed demeanor, made your heart flip. How could someone look so poised this early in the morning?

“Riddle,” you mumbled, walking up to him in a daze.

He glanced up from his tea, eyebrows raising slightly. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Instead of answering, you plopped yourself onto the couch beside him and buried your face in his shoulder. “You’re too cute. It’s unfair,” you grumbled.

“Is that so?” he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You nodded against him, your arms snaking around his waist as you pulled him into a cuddle. “I need compensation for the emotional damage.”

“Emotional damage?” he repeated, chuckling softly. “And what form of compensation do you require?”

“Kisses,” you declared.

He sighed, though there was a fond smile on his lips. “You’re impossible.” But he leaned down anyway, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See? You do love me,” you teased, snuggling closer.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he admitted softly, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.

One lazy afternoon, you found Riddle tending to the roses in the Heartslabyul garden. He looked so peaceful, carefully snipping away stray thorns and inspecting each bloom with the utmost care.

You stood there for a moment, watching him, before the cuteness aggression hit you like a brick wall. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and there was a soft smile on his lips as he admired his work.

“Riddle!” you called, jogging over to him.

He turned, surprised by your sudden enthusiasm. “Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Yes!” you said, grabbing his hand and dragging him to a secluded corner of the garden. “You’re too cute, and I can’t deal with it!”

“Wha—?!”

Before he could protest, you wrapped your arms around him and began peppering kisses all over his face. His cheeks turned as red as the roses around you, and he looked utterly flustered.

“We’re in public!” he hissed, though he made no real effort to escape your grasp.

“Then stop being so adorable,” you teased, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

He sighed, clearly torn between exasperation and affection. “You’re so infuriating,” he muttered.

“But you love me,” you replied, grinning.

“I do,” he admitted, his voice soft as he leaned in to kiss you properly. “Far more than I should, considering how insufferable you are.”

“Aw, you’re so romantic,” you teased, squeezing him tightly.

Riddle simply rolled his eyes, though the small smile on his lips said it all.

Masterlist ; Part 1 with Idia, Cater, Octatrio

[bet-on-me-13]

Dan is Trigon

So! The Teen Titans had been chasing down a Cult lately, and they had finally managed to track down their main bases location.

Unfortunately, they got there just a bit too late and the Summoning Ritual they had been preforming was finished. The Being they had been calling crawled up and out of the Circle drawn in Blood on the floor.

And Raven felt her heart Stop. Because that Being crawling it's way out of the Summoning Circle looked almost exactly like her Father's True Form. But also different.

Where her Father's hair was a White Flame, this one's hair looked like Freshly Fallen Snow. Instead of her Father's Blood Red Skin, this being had Icy Blue Skin. And most strikingly, In place of her Father's Piercing Red Eyes, this being had Lazarus Green Eyes.

But even with all those changes, she could still the similarities in the Bone Structure, the shape of the Jaw, and most importantly the Untold Power radiating off of them.

Before they could react, the Being turned its attention to the Cultists.

"Who Dares Summon, the Ghost King?"

"We do, Out Lord Pariah Dark! We Beseech Thee, take this unclean world and tear it down! Cleanse the World of its Filth!"

"Oh Goddammit, not again." Said the Being, "Look, Pariah hasn't been in Power for Centuries. I, am Phantom. And I don't do the whole 'Destroy all Worlds' thing, you want your own constellation? I'm your guy. Otherwise? Bite it."

"Bu-But my Lord! We summoned you to-"

"Yeah how about no." Said the unimpressed God, "Here, let me send you guys Home. I'll give you guys some riches or something as compensation, but that's it."

And with that, the God snapped its fingers and the cultists disappeared.

"Now, who are you kids?" He turned to them.

Robin stepped forward, "We are the Teen Titans, and originally we came to stop them from Summoning you. Now, I honestly don't know what to do..."

"Oh, you guys are Heroes! That's interesting, I don't come across worlds with Heroes very often." Said the Ghost King, "The last one was the one with those Revengers or whatever they called themselves. The Spider Totem was fun to talk to, and Thor is always..."

As Phantom mumbled to himself, Raven stepped up. "King Phantom, I have a Question. Why do you resemble the true form or Trigon so closely? As his Daughter, I can recognize your similarities easily, and I was curious."

The King stopped dead.

"...daughter?"

"Oh, yes. Trigon is my father, though obviously I haven't talked to him recently." She explained.

"...that asshole." He said, "How could he not tell me I had a NIECE!?"

Wait what?

[kaiser1ns]

The after-party was getting dull, and you were exhausted, longing for the comfort of home, the warmth of your bed, and the fluffiest blankets you owned. The soft mattress, the mountain of plushies—some gifted by Itoshi Sae, others by Michael Kaiser—called to you. Sae watched the scene from afar, swirling a champagne glass as he observed you and Kaiser sitting on the cold balcony stairs, sharing a piece of cake. The striker leaned closer, taking small bites as you offered, enjoying your company. The midfielder sighed and eventually joined, sitting beside you, which put you in the middle of them both.

A chilly breeze swept through, and you shivered slightly. Your dress, beautiful but strapless, wasn’t much protection against the cool air, though It was gorgeous, something you’d want to wear every day, but sadly, it was from a fashion house and would have to be returned. Suddenly, warmth settled around your shoulders. Kaiser had wrapped his jacket around you, flashing a soft smile before smirking at Sae. You didn’t notice Sae’s reaction, distracted by the night sky above. So many stars—a constellation not unlike the football stars in the team you worked for, Re Al. The best team in the world, a rare privilege you held, to be close to legendary players like Modric, Kroos, Ronaldo, and Zidane.

And now, the team’s rising stars—the Japanese and German prodigies, both members of the New Generation World XI, each easily affected by the other’s smallest provocation.

"Quick on the field, slow to treat a lady, aren’t you, Sae?” Kaiser teased, raising an eyebrow, and running a tattooed hand through his hair. The midfielder shot him a glare, moments from tossing his drink to wipe the smug grin off his teammate's face, but you interrupted, resting your head on Sae’s shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder… what life would have been like,” you murmured. The two paused their banter, curious. Snuggled in Kaiser’s jacket, you went on, “…if we’d never joined Re Al, or the world of football at all?”

Sae and Kaiser exchanged glances, taken aback. It wasn’t like you to ask questions like this, and you rarely drank that much. But when they looked back at you, your eyes were closed—not asleep, just calm, relaxing for once without making Sae jealous or flirting with Kaiser. For now, you stayed neutral. You knew you loved them both, but the question was—who?

A question for another time, you thought. Reopening your eyes to watch your breath form a small cloud in the cool night air. “Usually, both of you have something to say… so?”

Sae answered first, setting his glass down and absently twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “I probably would have had a normal life. A happy one. Maybe my personality wouldn’t have turned out quite like this.” You hummed softly, glancing over at Kaiser, who looked uncharacteristically sad, and … upset. Had your question touched a nerve?

“Do you want to share, Misha?” you asked. He quickly regained his composure, losing his blue tie as he too looked up at the sky

“Probably a criminal, or something,” he shrugged it off quickly, yet the pain lingered behind his eyes. After Kaiser’s answer, a soft silence settled over the three of you. You could sense that this wasn’t the time to dig further; if he wanted to share more, he would. Instead, you shifted, resting your head on Kaiser’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“There’s no salvation in the past,” he murmured, his voice low. “So don’t think about it. Focus on what’s happening now.” But his words drifted past you as sleep tugged at your eyelids. Kaiser noticed, chuckling softly at how peaceful you looked as you began to doze off.

Carefully, he nudged you up, steadying you on your feet. Sae, still sitting, glanced up at the way you seemed exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep right here on the spot as he too thought the same, that you were so cute.

“Might be the last time we have such a peaceful moment like this,” Kaiser said quietly. “Let’s bring her home.”

The two of them helped you down the stairs, keeping you steady. They’d make sure you got home safe and sound and hoped for no paparazzi photos first thing in the morning. Both of them here, looking out for you, felt like a gift from the universe itself—having them not only in your life but in your heart.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[wheeboo]

to love and be loved | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which wonwoo tells you about his first (and only) love. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers WARNINGS. self-doubt talk on reader's end, self-indulgent wooweee, this was painfully hard to write lmao n have no idea if any of this makes sense WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from anon: Hiiiiiiii first of all congratssss for you 2k. For the event, ive been thinking the same exact story with wonwoo and #6 from list 3 - #6: “You’re not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You just… Need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

notes: i'd quite literally do anything to have these kinds of talks with wonwoo ☹️☹️. anyway i hope u all enjoy this <3 hits close to home >< tysm anon hehe <3

join the 2k celebration!

"Hey, uh, Wonwoo?"

"Mhm?"

"...have you ever been in love?"

A cricket chirps into the evening air right after you ask, and you suddenly feeling like you're holding in a long-winded breath. Then you hear a loud crunch by Wonwoo from the crackers he was snacking on, and you blink up to him wiping away the corner of his mouth. There's the slightest glimpse of a curve to his lips that you manage to catch.

He silently offers you a cracker in your direction, the anticipating silence between the two of you growing thickly. You take the cracker from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks, before nibbling on it absentmindedly.

The night is absolutely beautiful right now, swearing that you could spot and make out the constellations above if you squinted hard enough. The distant chirping of crickets is the only sound that breaks the silence as the coolness of the night rolls in, carrying with it slight breeze that whispers through the leaves overhead the balcony of your apartment.

"I have."

You swiftly turn your head to him, eyes widening intriguingly. "You have?"

The chuckle that leaves him is somewhat awkward, a tad bit hesitant. He crumples up the bag of crackers and sets it aside, chugging down the last sips of his drink and setting down the empty can as well.

"Did you... ever confess to them?" You ask, suddenly feeling curious, though there's a bit of disappointment at the tip of your tongue.

You swear you could see the thoughts swirling around his head. Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed up to the night sky. There's a distant look in his eyes, as though he's peering into some past moment that only he can see, before he shakes his head, a faint smile crossing over his lips.

"No, I didn't," he answers calmly. "They were too far away, so... I just chose to admire them at a distance."

You lean back against the wall behind, your shoulder momentarily brushing against his. "Did they know you?"

Wonwoo purses his lips together. "Mhm."

"Well, you missed your chance!" You exclaim, prodding him playfully with your elbow. "I can't believe you let them get away, dude. Like right through the little cracks of your fingers. You could've been in a relationship by now."

This earns you a low, playful scoff from Wonwoo. "Are you assuming that they loved me back?"

Immediately, you feel the heat crawl up your neck and to the tips your ears.

"Well, um... Yeah, I am," You admit sheepishly, letting out a small sigh. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for a guy like you? You're nice and... charming. I think anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

There's a silence that falls between the two of you, one simply more than just comfortable yet denser than ever, because the thought of being loved by Wonwoo seems to linger longer than you notice. You steal a glance at him, seeing his face still turned upwards towards the night sky and the moonlight reflecting on his glasses. Strands of his dark hair blow across his forehead in the breeze. You can't quite decipher his expression, but a flicker of something𑁋perhaps surprise, maybe even amusement𑁋dances on his features for a brief moment.

He finally turns back to you, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Yeah," You confirm, nodding lightly. "Absolutely."

Wonwoo still keeps his eyes on you as you glance away, seeing the way you fidget with your hands in your lap and smoothing out the creases in your pants nervously. He glances down at his own hand and back at yours, lips pursing together in contemplation, but only folds his fingers back together the second you reach over him to grab the crumpled-up bag of crackers. He feels a little bit too warm in his sweater right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

A crunch echoes through the air. Then another. And another.

"I've just been kinda... thinking a lot lately, I guess," You reply slowly, quietly. "And it sort of makes me sound desperate in a way, but there are times I just wonder if, um... if anyone has ever felt the same way about me."

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly. "Love?"

"Not just love, but... seeing me, you know?" Being able to talk about this out loud makes your chest feel heavy. "Since it's hard these days to find someone who sees you for who you are, not for who you can be. I... I just feel like I'm hard to love sometimes. Hell, maybe even unlovable. It’s hard to break out of that mindset when things get hard again.”

A thoughtful quietness seeps through the nighttime breeze, which sends goosebumps up and down your skin, but you don't mind it because you know that Wonwoo is listening either way. And the more you think about it𑁋the thought of knowing that he's here, with his presence is right next to you𑁋it seems to comfort you more than you notice.

There's a small hum of acknowledgement that you hear from his end, unsure if it's just your imagination or if he's actually responding as your mind feels a little jumbled up right now. But then Wonwoo shifts beside you, his arm lightly pressing against yours.

"But I... I think I've reached a point in time where I can say I love myself a little more than a few years ago, or last year, or even just yesterday," You continue to ramble a bit aimlessly, chuckling dryly to yourself. "It’d be nice to share that with someone too, you know? To finally get over this loneliness. But it's not entirely a sad loneliness or a happy one. It's, like, uh... both put together, I guess."

A few moments of silence pass. You feel Wonwoo gently nudge your leg with his.

"I'm proud of you."

You peer up to look at him, mind nearly going blank from the way he's gazing at you. Or maybe it's just the moonlight that's making him appear so... picturesque. "What for?"

"For loving yourself, silly," Wonwoo muses almost cheekily, and the delighted tone that you catch makes your stomach leap. "Even if it's just by a small percentage than yesterday, it's still okay. You're doing good. I want you to know that."

You're doing good. It's just those three singular words that has heat forming in your eyes that you somehow manage to blink back before anything could spill, and hearing it come from Wonwoo feels different. There's a vulnerable sweetness to them, a sincerity that catches you off-guard. You force a smile𑁋a grateful one, nonetheless𑁋before it shifts into a frown.

And Wonwoo catches it right away. "What's wrong?"

Your lips form a thin line, pressing together in thought. You refuse to acknowledge why you think your heart feels slightly... jealous.

"I hope whoever you loved before knows how lucky they are one day," You say to him. "if you're still in love with them, that is..."

Wonwoo stills for a minute, pensively. "I am."

"You are?"

"I never stopped."

You stare at him for a few moments, an eyebrow lifted in disbelief at him, before crossing your arms together and letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Then you should've said that you're in love with them, idiot."

Wonwoo sucks in a breath.

"I'm in love with you."

You blink instinctively, once, twice, three times, momentarily thinking that Wonwoo's presence might somehow disappear into thin air. But he's still there𑁋a certain softness in the way he's looking at you, a gentleness that seems to wrap around you like a warm embrace𑁋waiting for you. His words suspend heavily in the air, and maybe the world is also holding its breath just as you are too.

"And... You're not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You're far from that," Wonwoo continues, voice tender, fond, and soft as a lullaby. "You just... need to let me in, and let me show you you're just as worthy of love as anyone else is."

You could only sit merely frozen at this point, throat tightened and jaw dropped in shock among many other weird, fuzzy feelings happening throughout your body. Something between relief and disbelief. Hope and hesitancy. Comfort and uncertainty. You have the capacity to run yet you choose not to𑁋you're letting him in, letting the warmth of his words seep into the cracks of your doubt.

Your mind reels dizzily, almost like the world has been tilting away off-balance.

"You... You're in love with me?" You repeat, almost dumbly, because you cannot seem to fathom anything that's been said in the past few moments. "All that talk about earlier... about who you..."

Wonwoo hangs his head down low, rubbing at his neck in a bashful manner. "It was about you."

"And you never... you never told me?"

"Honestly, I'd like to think a part of it was you being a tad bit oblivious." And then he just simply grins, his nose crinkling along with it. "But that's okay. Watching you slowly figure yourself out made me realise that maybe I needed to find myself a little more too."

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading painfully throughout your face. At first, you have the urge to brush it all away as a silly misunderstanding. Maybe laugh it off, retreat back inside, and go to sleep pretending all of this didn't happen. But the sincerity in his eyes stops you.

You lick your dry lips, the cool night air beginning to feel a lot less suffocating.

"Did you?" You ask vaguely, before shaking your head repeating, "Did you... find yourself?"

Wonwoo lets his eyes roam over you, taking you in, before leaning back on the wall and bringing his gaze back up toward the night sky. Your eyes refuse to leave him, and perhaps this is what it's like to admire someone from afar and close up all at once.

The two of you take a deep, deliberate exhale together.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling softly. "I think I found myself right where I want to be."

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[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s finding it hard to resist you. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

four;

You had only one partner in your entire life—and Christ knew how awfully that ended. Still, each relationship taught you the same lesson: crying in front of them, especially too quickly, was as cruel as a death sentence.

But here you were, eyes glossy as you fought to suppress every awful, hopeless feeling swelling in your chest, the credits of The Notebook rolling on the screen.

Did that love even exist? Better yet, would you ever find it?

You couldn’t stop the quiver in your pretty, pink lips.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Hey,” Clark called, his laugh breathy, and your shoulders tensed.

You didn’t want to rush this, or push anything further. You weren’t entirely convinced he wasn’t hiding something underneath that perfect façade.

But Clark hadn’t hurt you when he brought you to his apartment. He hadn’t hovered over you when you sat on his dark emerald couch. Quite the opposite, in fact—he’d given you space, letting you curl up in the corner with a blanket, sitting a cushion away to make sure you felt comfortable.

Funnily enough, your mind wandered to how his body had felt in the bookshop just hours before, swaying so close to yours.

Christ…

“I’m fine.” You laughed at yourself, shaking your head, a sniffle escaping as your eyes blinked, letting two tears fall. Clark adjusted his glasses with his wrist, grabbing a tissue from his abstract glass table and offering it to you. You accepted it gratefully.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed, his voice a deep, soothing balm for the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. “I’ve cried at this film too.”

He was lying, but his words made you laugh, and that was enough for him. He grinned as you wiped your tears away.

“Are you lying to me?” Your watery doe eyes were too pretty a sight—and though Clark prided himself on being a strong man, he grew weak under your gaze.

“Yes,” he admitted, and after a long pause, you both erupted into a fit of laughter—breathless and wiping your eyes when it ended.

Clark sighed long and deep, leaning back against the cushions, gazing lazily at you with one arm resting along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder.

“God, you’re pretty.” The words slipped out like a breath, and that ever-present pinch returned to his brows when he realized what he’d said. But when you flushed a soft pink and brought your shy gaze to meet his, he made no effort to take the words back.

A comfortable silence settled between you both. You peered at him through watery lashes, and he gazed at you with a soft smile, as though he was memorizing the delicate features of your face.

“Clark,” you started, and he hummed in response, too busy counting the sparse freckles on your face, tracing constellations in their scattered stars.

“Why’d you ask me out on a date?”

Maybe it was the wine, the gentle breeze flowing through the window, or the way he looked at you—as if he’d known you for a thousand lifetimes. Whatever it was, you couldn’t suppress the question from slipping past your lips.

He shifted, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he considered your words.

���It’s been a long time since anyone’s interested me,” he said plainly, as if it were the simplest answer in the world. Your curious mind didn’t think that was enough—but before you could push for more, you held back the urge.

He turned his head to you slowly, tilting it with a playful glint.

“Why’d you say yes?” he asked, grinning lazily.

You found yourself flushing pink again as you considered your answer.

Because you look like Adonis.

Because I’d be an idiot to say no.

Because I need to know if you’re a serial killer or not.

“Because you read books.”

Oof.

You winced as the words left your mouth, watching his brows furrow and the grin slowly fade from his lips. You felt the urge to crawl into a hole, but instead, you scooted closer on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you.

“I’m awful with words,” you admitted, voice small.

Clark recovered quickly, masking his brief disappointment with another lazy grin. “But you’re pretty,” he repeated, his gaze softening as he leaned closer to you.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Your gazes locked, pulling you both closer like magnets.

And then, in a blink, he was there. One arm on your hip, just like earlier. The other gripped the couch as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to his self-control.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he whispered.

And though the parts of you scarred by past trauma screamed for you to take it slow, to hold back—

Well.

Fuck it.

You nodded once, and his lips were on yours—soft, slow, and tentative.

One peck, and he pulled back, scanning your eyes for any trace of regret or hesitation. When he found none, he dove in again. Only this time, his glasses bumped your nose.

You winced, and his eyes widened. But then you broke into an amused smile. He mirrored you, a ghost of a laugh playing on his lips as he removed his too-big glasses and set them aside.

“Let me kiss it better, baby,” he whispered, and God, you melted.

Baby.

In that moment, you knew. Even if he eventually broke your heart or turned cruel, you’d still long to hear that word fall from his lips.

Oh, but slowly, he leaned forward again and pressed a soft kiss to where his glasses had bumped your nose. Then another to your cheek, and another, then your eyelids, your chin, your forehead—exploring you, savoring you. He hovered just shy of your lips, his arms warming your skin, his fingers finding a home cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed against the apples of them.

“I want to keep kissing you,” he whispered, his voice strained, deeper now. You interrupted him, unknowingly.

“So do it, Clark.”

He inhaled sharply, a strained grin playing at the corners of his lips.

If he were a lesser man…

“If I keep kissing you,” he admitted, his voice low and heated, “I’m going to have a hard time stopping.”

And you swayed in your seat, body humming with anticipation. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, each one igniting the fire inside you, while your eyes dropped downward.

And then you saw it.

A bulge—strained but undeniable—aching to be released. To be touched.

A very big, demanding bulge.

Maybe his kisses were meant to distract you from it. Or maybe he wanted your innocent little eyes to fall upon it.

Unbeknownst to you, it had started to ache the moment he inhaled your intoxicating scent in the bookshop. One kiss, and it had been pulsing.

You gulped, wide-eyed as his kisses moved to your temples, his lashes tickling your skin.

Maybe it was the way he called you baby, or maybe it was curiosity… or maybe, just maybe, you felt as though you owed him something.

Yes, that was it.

He’d been so kind to you. Wasn’t this your obligation?

It’s certainly what your ex used to believe…

You winced as your shaky hand reached for his denim, slowly grazing the firm bulge, your fingers testing the limits of its tightness.

He tensed, his grip on your face tightening as he leaned back a fraction. Awe glazed your expression as you watched him close his eyes, jaw tight and lips pursed. A guttural moan escaped him, shaking both his chest and yours.

You had to keep going, if only to hear that delectable sound again.

Slowly, your fingers found the zipper, inching lower and lower—until his hand snapped down to capture your wrist.

Mortification spread across your cheeks like wisteria vines.

He stopped you, holding your wrist for a moment, catching his breath before his eyes fluttered open again, scanning your face.

A slow, lazy kiss pressed to your wrist, then two more to your reddened cheeks.

“You had wine,” he whispered against your neck, dipping his head into the crook and licking lazily at your pulse.

He hadn’t let go of your hand—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust himself.

His words took a moment to make sense in your foggy mind, but when they did, relief flooded your tense body. You relaxed against him.

He did want you— he just didn’t want you buzzing from wine.

He wanted you whole, complete, present.

You shivered as he traced his tongue from your throat to the soft place beneath your ear, pressing a final kiss there before pulling back.

His face had changed now.

Gone was the gentle, bookish man who’d kindled a fire both for and in you and let you ramble about books. No, this Clark was different—hungry, staring at the finest ambrosia before him.

Ready to pounce.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, and you realized then you'd been staring at his lips.

You licked your own.

"I'm okay, Clark."

He nodded, and in a swift motion, you were seated in his lap, his bulge pressing against your plump bum. The clothing between you only deepened the pulsing ache.

"You just bite me if I cross a line, okay?" You giggled softly at that, and he only nibbled your ear in response, wrapping two strong arms around you and settling back against the couch.

You had been the most fun he'd had in a while—and damn if he wasn't already dreading the moment when you'd part.

"Can I take you home tonight?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a new intensity that made your breath catch. His hands were gentle on your waist, but the tension in his grip told you that he wasn’t quite as calm as he appeared.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts and even stronger feelings. You’d never felt so simultaneously vulnerable and desired. There was something about him—something in the way he treated you with patience and respect—that made your guard slip, just a little. And yet, the fear of getting too close, too quickly, still lurked in the back of your mind.

You swallowed hard, trying to push past the anxiety. This isn’t the same as before, you reminded yourself. It doesn’t have to be.

“I think I’d like that,” you said finally, your voice shaky but sincere. You could feel his grip tighten slightly, as though he was holding his breath.

“Are you sure?” He searched your face, wanting to be absolutely certain that you weren’t just saying yes out of some sense of obligation or fear of disappointing him.

You nodded, and a small smile played at the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

The air between you two shifted, as if the space around you had contracted and expanded all at once, drawing you closer to him. Clark’s eyes softened, and his smile was tender, almost reverent, as he kissed your forehead once more.

“Okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. “C’mon pretty girl.”

He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You took it, allowing him to help you up from the couch, and together, you made your way to the cherrywood door. As you walked out into January’s chill, you found yourself unsurprised when he draped his coat over your shoulders.

As you climbed into the truck, Clark reached over to start the engine, but before he did, he turned to look at you once more, his gaze soft and searching.

“I want you to know ,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “this isn’t just a pass of time for me or my pleasure. You’re pretty, and you’re incredibly tempting… but I don’t expect a thing from you. That’s not the man I am.”

He could be lying. As your ex had, as many others had before. Christ, you’d just met him a few weeks ago. Were you to believe his words were truly more than just a ploy to get you comfortable?

One stolen glance into his blue-gray gaze though, and you just knew that could not be true.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of relief and something else—something deeper, something unfamiliar but present. You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his hand as he reached for the gear shift.

“I’m not like that either,” you replied, your voice steady and sincere. “But I think you know that.”

He grinned, not needing to say more words as the tension eased from his shoulders and he shifted the car into drive. As you pulled away from the apartment building and into the quiet streets, you weighed each syllable of his words with scrutiny. You thought yourself to be a fool for considering them honest.

But that was okay.

Clark Kent was a man more than determined to prove your pretty little mind wrong…

[prythianpages]

Take Her To The Moon | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Curious over what it'd be like to watch Velaris from above like the stars do every night, you ask Cassian to take you flying.

warnings: fluff

word count: a little under 2K

a/n: I already had a flying fic planned for this au and when I saw that Day 1 of @cassianappreciationweek was flying, I thought why not join? This is my first time participating in a character week! and ofc it's last minute, I promise I'll be more prepared next time.

A canvas of shimmering stars were stretched infinitely above you. Cassian sat beside you, on the rooftop of your shop, his membranous wings folded neatly behind him. Your legs dangled over the edge, the pale moonlight reflecting off your shiny, pink boots. Your eyes were bright as they traced the constellations.

Our child. Our beloved.

Cassian’s head turned to glance at you. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“The voices.” Cassian replied, a faint furrow appearing on his forehead. Was he going mad? He was sure he had heard them–a distant echo of ancient voices. Yet, you continued to sit beside him, completely unfazed.

So beautiful.

“Oh!” Your eyebrows lifted in realization. Your fingers reached up to brush the earrings you wore, delicate pieces made from the dust shooting stars emitted. “It’s my earrings. They were made from the stars and sometimes speak to me.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do they say?"

“They whisper compliments, mostly. Such as the way I'm as radiant as the cosmos, as beautiful as the night sky…”

Yes. Yes.

You tilted your head in amusement, your eyes reflecting the stars above as if they took residence there. A beauty from the cosmos, indeed. Cassian let out a small chuckle, his ears now being able to distinguish those ancient whispers. You grinned at him, leaning back on the palm of your hands, your hair falling gracefully off your shoulders. 

“They also whisper other things.” You added. “The stars, they see things we don’t. They’re always there, patient and watching. They know our secrets, our deepest desires. They hear our pleas, you know.”

Cassian’s head tilted upwards, lifting his gaze from you and toward the night sky. The moon was full and beautiful. The stars, eternal and steadfast, winking at him, sharp and bright. A sweet fondness had the corner of his lips tugging up. 

“I know.”

A blissful silence enveloped the two of you, both lost in deep thought. Memories of that lonely night swirled in Cassian’s mind—the night he had stood under these very stars, heart full of longing and soul overcome with loneliness. He yearned for someone to gaze up at the stars with, and pleaded with them to send him someone.

A soft sigh escaped you, pulling Cassian from his reverie. His wings fluttered in response, a subtle reminder of the present moment. Perhaps, his pleas had been answered. Because he was gazing up at the stars this very moment with you by his side.

You. Such a bright and beautiful soul. Like a fallen star reborn through the magic of love, and though he hasn’t known you for long, your presence was already illuminating his life in a way he had never imagined.

Take her to the moon.

Cassian's heart skipped a beat, head turning back to you. But you were still fixated on the sky, eyes full of longing, as if you hadn’t heard the whispers of the stars. He wondered what had you so deep in thought and the question was tumbling from his lips.

You blinked, the constellations gracing your cheeks enough for him to see the blush that had settled there. His eyes narrowed briefly. In the the time he’s known you, you have never shown an ounce of shyness.

“The stars are lovely tonight.” You said, dancing around the question. Sensing his gaze on you, you met his eyes, and something lit up in those sparkling eyes of yours. “Want to make a bet?”

“A bet?”

You nodded your head, a bit too eagerly, making him suspicious. Surely, you were plotting something. He could only hope it did not involve any of those pesky little lovebugs you’ve been talking about, another blind date or any more of your love altars. 

One day when he had visited your shop, you had suggested for him to light one of the candles to the altar that spoke to him the most and ask for its blessing. He had meant to light one at the altar dedicated to romantic love but Honey, your cat, had brushed against his leg and startled him. He accidentally lit one of the candles from the altar of erotic love.

It would’ve been fine, really. An honest mistake that could’ve gone unnoticed...if it hadn’t for the old fae woman who had chosen to light a candle at that altar not even a heartbeat before him.

“By The Cauldron, I’ve been blessed!” The woman, who could have easily been his great grandmother, had exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. You had to save him, sweetly coaxing the woman and sending her off with a sleeping potion that’d make her dream of her late husband.

You always meant well with your plans, carefully and thoughtfully scheming to bring Cassian closer to what he desired most—true love. But it seemed fate had a different plan, weaving its own tricks into your efforts. Despite your best intentions, your schemes often ended in failure, leading him back to you.

“If I can accurately guess how many stars are shining in the sky tonight, you have to take me flying.”

A small breath of relief escaped from Cassian. Flying was his territory, his expertise. But the stars…He eyed your earrings, gaze narrowing in on them. “That sounds like a bet you won’t lose.”

He caught the way your gaze lingered on his wings, a hint of longing still shimmering within your eyes. Realization dawned on him then. Is that why you had been sneaking glances at his wings earlier?

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “If you want me to take you flying, you could just ask, you know.”

“I can't just ask that! I'm shy!"

“You? Shy?” Cassian laughed again, finding the small glare you sent his way amusing. He shook his head in disbelief. There was a moment of silence and then: “So…are you going to ask me or not?”

You took a deep breath, and Cassian took pleasure in the sheepish look on your face, his wings twitching in anticipation. He watched as your mouth parted before shutting again and raised an eyebrow at you.

Then, finally, you said. “Will you take me flying?... Please."

Cassian stared at you, as if considering your words, even though he had already decided on his answer before you could ask the question. You’ve already done so much for him–have given him hope. He would do anything in return for you. He just wanted to tease you further for a bit but the longer he stared at you, the more he began to lose his resolve.

And when you batted your eyelashes at him, inadvertently striking him with your effortless charm, he was a goner. It was now him feeling bashful. Did you have to be so beautiful?

He barely managed to choke out a “yes” before standing. He could’ve sworn he heard raspy sounds coming from your earrings—like a snicker, almost.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Cassian’s wings spread out magnificently behind him. He felt the blood rush to his neck at the way you regarded them in awe, stepping forward to admire them more closely. “Beautiful,” you murmured, the stars at your ears whispering in agreement and his wings shuddered at the compliment. “They’re so big. I’m envious.”

“Envious?” Cassian echoed. His chest swelled with pride. You had called them big.

You stepped back, leaving Cassian unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. He had anticipated the usual temptation many non-Illyrians succumb to—reaching out to touch his wings. But you hadn’t. 

“I always wondered what it’d be like to fly among the clouds and stars, to feel the wind rushing past and see the world from above. That's what I was thinking about earlier...and you can do it so easily with those.”

“It is nice,” Cassian commented thoughtfully. 

His wings, though scarred from countless battles and injuries, were one of the things he cherished the most. Each scar told a story of resilience, and he took immense pride in them–in their ability to let him soar through the skies.

And he loved flying. The joy, the exhilarating thrill that coursed through his veins. Flying connected him to his Illyrian heritage but also brought a profound sense of liberation. A way to escape and transcend the limits imposed by the ground and a way to be closer to the stars.

Take her to the moon. He heard those very stars whisper again.

He looked at you, the soft fabric of your ruffled blush top swaying gently in the night breeze. You were patient, hands clasped behind your back.

So with a smile, he said, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and when he gestured for you to come closer, you approached without a word. His hazel eyes, tender and soft, lingered on you, silently asking for your permission. With a nod from you, he bent down slightly. One arm went beneath your knees the other behind your back and then he scooped you into his strong arms.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he felt the rapid, eager beat of your heart—a rhythm that matched his own. But his also carried an undercurrent of something deeper, more intense, spurred on by the feeling of you in his arms.

Standing at the edge of the rooftop, he glanced down at you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation or fear. “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You replied and he found nothing but your enthusiasm reflected back at him.

His smile widened and he made a show of his wings. They unfurled further behind him in a graceful manner, a delicate sound reminiscent of a sail watching the wind, resonating in the air. 

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

Your arms tightened around him and then you two were taking off, the ground disappearing beneath you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Your eyes were wide with wonder, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you gazed out at the world below. Moonlight wove silver patterns across the rooftops, and the Sidra River shimmered up at you. As the clouds drifted by, you reached out with a hand, pink magic fluttering from your fingertips. A gasp of delight escaped you as you felt the misty tendrils of the clouds brushing against your skin.

From this height, every scent was vivid—the fresh, earthy aroma of the forest below mingled with the sandalwood warmth enveloping you. It was all a sensory overload that left you breathless, but in the best way possible.

“This is incredible!”

Cassian chuckled but he couldn’t agree more. He was happy to share this joy with you, the powerful rhythm of his wings beating steadily as you soared through the night sky. The world stretched out in every direction, a vast expanse of shadow and light.

It felt as if you were the only two people in existence, suspended between the earth and the stars…and the stars…

The stars seemed so close that you could almost touch them, and your laughter rang out, pure and joyous. Cassian watched you, mesmerized by the radiant joy on your face, pink stardust fluttering around you both. As he flew higher, the moonlight bathed you in a soft glow that made you look as celestial as the stars themselves...

What if you had been that shimmering star he wished upon?

A strange, profound shift occurred within him, causing his wings to falter for a brief moment. You were too absorbed in your wonder to notice, but Cassian’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. 

He savored the sensation of having you so close, wishing this moment could stretch on forever as the stars did. 

a/n: The star earrings were inspired from Aquamarine's starfish earrings! I'm saving the fic of where Love witch meets the IC as part of my 2K celebration so the next part might be kind of an angsty one, depending on which comes first. If you asked to be on the tag list and don't see your name, please let me know!

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 4

Masterpost Ao3

“Cassiopeia,” Danny murmurs, his eyes never leaving the glimmering void above him. “Though epsilon looks dimmer than it usually is. I wonder if it still has a ring...” Around him, the world is shadowed, the distant lights of cities visible on the horizon but not bright enough to truly disrupt his view of the night sky. It had been a bit nerve-wracking leaving the town, but he’d been making an effort to lay low for the last week, and had seen nothing to indicate anyone was coming to search for him. The idea of visiting the firefighters still makes his skin itch, but a little trip to stargaze had started seeming like a reasonable risk to take, and with the calm expanse of void above him, Danny can feel something deep inside of him settle. The buzz of fear that’s been around since before he even got here evaporates, as he counts the stars and constellations. They’re not all the same, Cygnus seems to be mostly missing, and a few of the individual stars Danny remembers seem to be gone, but for the most part, it’s the same. Certainly more familiar than anything else has been so far. The technology here is all far more advanced than anything Danny’s seen before, which is ironic considering the portal.

It’s funny, really that he can be this far away from home (a literally incalculable distance), and the stars are still generally the same. Even the ones that are new are still stars; still the same burning masses fueled by fusion and gravity, and feeding the universe at large with new material. They're still millions of light-years away, and yet they’ve been there for so long, streaming their light into a void, where it can eventually reach this very spot where Danny’s currently standing. All his problems seem so small in the face of the great expanse of space.

“Amazing!” Danny exclaims, letting himself just laugh with delight. Maybe he’s alone here, but has he ever felt this free before? Nobody to drag him away, or force him into fights, or yell at him about the chores he hasn’t done yet. Hell, if he really wanted to, he just take off, go hang out in space, maybe fly until he finds one of those alien planets that he’d seen mentioned on Wikipedia. Sure, it would probably take a stupid amount of time to get there, but he could , if he wanted.

Behind him, there’s a rush of air, and the sound of a person taking a breath, and Danny tears his gaze away from the stars, flipping himself into a fighting stance as he runs through the list of heroes he’d read about, trying to remember which of them could fly. As he turns, his eyes lock on to another boy, though, that looks to be close to Danny’s own age.

“Woah, dude.” The boy says, holding his hands up and floating a few feet backwards. “I’m not here to fight?”

“Then why are you here?” Danny asks. He is just a kid, so like, maybe , it’s safe, but also the symbol on the kids chest is the same one Superman was wearing, so he could just be a recruit or something.

“I dunno, man, I just heard you talking and got curious? Not exactly many people around that can just hang out in the sky, you know. I can leave if you want.” The other  boy’s expression seems sincere. Mostly he looks startled and a bit uncertain, and deeply unlike the weird, heroic, confident posture that Superman seemed to have in every picture. This guy looks like he’s trying to look confident, sure, but not like he actually is .

“You’re not Superman, but you’re wearing his logo.” Danny says. Dropping his stance, but not letting himself fully relax. Just because it’s not a fight, doesn’t mean he’s safe, after all.

“Yeah, uh, I’m Superboy.”

“Superboy,” Danny echoes. “I read something about sidekicks? Is that-” Danny cuts himself off when the other boy winces.

“No, I’m not his sidekick. More like he’s helping to train me. We’ve got the same powers, so... Yeah.”

“Huh. Training sounds... Nice? What’s that like?” Honestly, training sounds downright miraculous. Danny hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the destruction caused by the train crash, and how everyone in Amity had always complained about the damage caused by ghost fights. He hasn’t forgotten how much he’d gotten himself hurt in those early days either, not that anyone else had ever noticed that bit.

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice. I take it you don’t have a mentor, then?”

“I’m not a hero.”

“No? I thought- I mean, you look a lot like the description of the guy who helped with the train crash over in Concord.” Superboy frowns, glancing off in the direction of Danny’s hometown.

“I mean, yeah that was me but I’m not. I don’t wanna fight anyone.”

“Oh, yeah that’s totally fair.” Superboy immediately responds with a laugh. “Honestly most of what we do isn’t actually fighting people, so y’know. You don’t have to be a fighter to be a hero.”

“Oh.” That kinda makes sense. After all, Danny had done a lot of fighting back home, and nobody had called him a hero there.

“Yeah, it’s like. There’s a lot of stuff about emergency response and civilian rescue and stuff. Hell, from what I understand half of what the Bats do is just, like detective work. That’s a lot of what my training’s for, actually. I’m pretty good at destroying stuff, I guess, but Supes says I need better control, before I can be trusted to handle relief stuff, because I might accidentally hurt people with my strength or something.”

“That’s. Cool, I guess?” Danny risks a glance up at the stars. No attack comes with Danny’s split attention, though after a moment, Superboy slowly floats over to his side.

“What are you looking at?”

“The stars.”

“Just, like, in general?” Superboy asks. He sounds dubious, and Danny can feel him glancing between him and the sky every couple seconds.

“What, have you never gone stargazing before?” 

Superboy doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Danny glances over. The false confidence has completely evaporated from the other boy’s expression, and instead he just looks unsure.

“I’ve never really had the opportunity before.” Superboy finally murmurs, quieter than any of their conversation so far.

“Well, I guess you’re in luck!” Danny says, offering his new companion a smile. “Because I’m something of an expert in it!” And Danny begins to point to the different constellations, and tell Superboy as much as he can about all the stars and planets above them.

“You really are an expert, huh?” Superboy eventually says, in the middle of Danny’s tangent about why Pluto isn’t considered a planet anymore. That had been one of his most interesting discoveries in his Wikipedia explorations. He’d been kind of surprised at first when it hadn’t shown up on the list of planets, but he’d specifically searched for it, he’d learned about it’s reclassification, along with all the reasoning behind it. He’d been a little sad at first, but the realization that it came alongside the implication about a whole number of other bodies orbiting their sun had been exciting in it’s own way.

“Yeah,” Danny responds with a laugh. “I, uh, really like space. I actually wanted to be an astronaut as a kid.”

“But you don’t want to be one now?”

“I mean,” Danny hums. “It’d be nice, but I don’t think it’s really a plausible goal anymore. It- the way I got my powers came with some... complications. And anyway I kind of don’t legally exist anymore, so it’s. I can’t even go to space camp, let alone go to actual space.”

“Is that, uh, why you don’t have a normal heart beat? I didn’t wanna ask and be rude, but like, you sound kinda like a really large bee.”

“Yeah, that’s, um. I mean I’ve never been called a bee before, but yeah.”

“Wild. But like, if it’s meta stuff, then aren’t they legally not allowed to discriminate against you for it? They’re not just gonna be like ‘oh you don’t have a heartbeat guess you can’t go to space.’”

“I mean, there was, like, a meta scholarship on the website, but...”

“You’re worried about revealing your identity.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, that’s fixable. I mean, I didn’t have an identity to even reveal until this year, so the Justice League can definitely-”

“I don’t want them to know about me,” Danny interrupts.

“Oh.” Superboy says. “Well, what about just, like one person? Because Robin could definitely make you a whole new identity all by himself, and I know he has no qualms about keeping shit secret from everyone else.”

“Robin.” Danny thinks he remembers that name being referenced in relation to Batman. Something about a boy wonder. “Is he our age?”

“Yeah.” Superboy looks excited. “I could introduce you sometime if you want?”

“I dunno.” Even one Justice League associate knowing about him is concerning, and if Superboy knows about the thing with the train, then probably the adult members do too.

“Well, you don’t have to decide now! I have super hearing so if you call my name I’m almost guaranteed to hear it!”

“You can just hear me anytime?” Danny asks.

“Oh, uh. I mean technically yes? But generally it’s like effort to just tune into one person from a distance. But I listen for anybody calling for me, in case they need help or whatever, so I’m always kind of listening for that.”

“I’’ll keep that in mind, I guess.”

“Right. Uh, do you wanna tell me more about the planets?”

[doctorho]

Constellations

hiii guys!! i got this ask about the idea of Viktor with a reader who has some visible moles and Viktor gets...curious. About the possibility of there being more of them. so then i wrote this. 2k(ish) words, gender neutral reader, no warnings. alcohol mentioned but only in like a "there's a party and viktor has a cocktail" type of way, no heavy drinking involved. i like writing the fancy academy parties, what can i say. here you go!!

Viktor is nothing if not curious. And – well. Observant. It comes with the territory of navigating life in Piltover as a Zaunite, and doubly so as a disabled Zaunite that was now a semi-public figure deeply involved in the businesses and inner workings of Piltover. 

Being observant was useful, both when working on uncovering the still-veiled mysteries of the universe and when keeping track of social exchanges at formal events. It was as much a carefully wielded tool as it was a well-honed survival skill, developed over the years as someone on the sidelines. 

And being curious – well. That was just a deep-rooted facet of Viktor's existence. The day he'd stop wanting to look at the world just a bit more closely, to understand it a bit more deeply, to turn over one more problem, that would be the day that he'd stop breathing. That was just how he was. 

It's what landed him a place at the Academy in the first place, and it's what kept him going. 

It's also what's landed him in the current mess that he was in. 

(It was, truth be told, what landed him in most of the messes he found himself in. Well, that, or his rather exploratory problem solving habits, but what was a little trial and error without some error? Besides, if you were going to fail at something, it was best to fail fast and hard, as efficiently as possible, for the best results). 

This, however? This was different. This was a mess he hadn't anticipated. 

See, he's - he's at the lab most days. He doesn’t exactly seek out social gatherings, unless presented with a very intriguing premise. He's not anti-social, per se, but he simply stays out of other people's business when he can, he focuses on his work, and that's that. But then – then. 

Then you off-handedly mention that even though most of the people of Piltover seemed to think of moles and freckles as flaws, as imperfections, you were trying to think of yours as the unique markings that they were, but it was difficult to ignore the external pressure to always be on the lookout for another flaw to feel self-conscious over. And then you're turning your arm in the air slowly, examining in the late afternoon light in front of the window at the lab, and Viktor's noticed the moles scattered over your skin before, of course, he's noticed them the same way he's noticed the swirls of ice crystals forming in the windows and the specs of dust glittering in a sunbeam on the floor – the moles are exactly what you say they are, he thinks, unique markings, something that made a person more interesting to look at. And he'd known that the people of Piltover had some...questionable opinions on beauty standards, on imperfections, but… 

Viktor didn't agree with them. 

“Would you consider the stars in the night sky as imperfections?” he asks, lowering the soldering iron he'd been holding, scraping down excess solder residue onto the pad under the heating station, and slowly turning to look at you with a carefully raised eyebrow when you don't immediately respond. 

“That's not really the same thing, is it.” You answer eventually, leaning back on your chair. 

“Isn't it?” 

“I don't illuminate anything, for one.”

“Details,” he counters, with a wave of his hand, then reaches into one of the drawers on his desk to retrieve pliers. “Besides, the sky is often pictured with inverted colors for convenience. With the stars as dark dots.”  

“Really?”

He hums in answer, leaning back over his project, holding his newly formed connection up to his eye level, inspecting it. 

“Huh,” you answer, lifting your arm over to the fading sunlight again. “Yeah, you could probably make a few constellations out of these.” 

And Viktor makes the mistake of looking over, because – while he truly had meant his analogy innocently, as just a supporting honest notion, the golden sunlight is hitting you now and that makes you as luminous as any collection of stars, and he has to force himself to look away before he gets caught staring. He exhales slowly and turns over the piece he was working on, for no particular reason – he already knew the connections were perfect – “Yes,” he agrees, “you probably could.”

He would have no professional explanation for staring, so he turns over the part he was holding one more time. 

This does not mean he won't steal a glance at opportune moments, when you're too busy to notice. Because he is intrigued now, and it's bad enough that he already thought you were beautiful, and worse than that, interesting to look at, and really, that was it. He was doomed. Done for. Utterly, irrevocably hooked, and what else was he supposed to do? Not be curious about this new aspect presented to him? Yeah, not likely. If he'd do that, he wouldn't be Viktor. 

He knew he'd wanted to get closer to you before, to touch you, he'd just…ignored it for convenience, shelved it under figure out later - too complicated for now.

The feeling seemed to have grown in hibernation. 

The metaphor stays in his mind, whirring in the background as he tries to go on with his day. But he keeps noticing it, noticing you, getting stuck watching the little specks on your skin disappear up your sleeves and into the collar of your overshirt, and he is itching to know what kind of constellations he could trace out of them. 

And then– then, the days just keep piling up on top of each other and Viktor keeps stealing glances and having annoyingly, frustratingly vague dreams about removed shirts and whispered sighs and too-light touches, and he keeps showing up to the lab pretending everything was normal and fine and totally under perfect control, all business as usual over on his side. Did the new shipment arrive already?

And then the Academic Year's Open Ceremony comes around, and Viktor did not account for the non-Academy-issued outfit that you would be wearing, even though he probably should have expected it. But foresight was not one of his talents, so when he'd agreed to go, he had not thought about the low lights and deep-cut necklines and what the champagne buzz in his head would do to his self-control. To the rational thinking that was usually his lifeline. To his imagination.

Now that was all he could think about. 

There was a champagne flute in one of his hands, and the other was gripping the handle of his cane slightly too hard. It would make his joints ache soon, but that would be a problem for future him. Perhaps even a nice little distraction from the torture of watching you in your glamorous getup, smiling and talking with someone, while he was merely pretending to be listening to the conversation he was in. 

Viktor nods at what he thinks are the correct moments (or at least, close enough), but his eyes remain glued to where you were standing. 

He hadn't seen you in clothes that revealing before, and he was taking this as a free research opportunity. His eyes trace over your skin, mapping the new-to-him pattern of moles and freckles, and something greedy at the bottom of his stomach wants to trace them with his fingers, too. And he knows that's inappropriate, especially while someone was lecturing him about the future of the Academy, but honestly, he didn't care. His train of thought was currently only about one heartbeat long, and the thing purring at the bottom of his stomach was getting louder, hungrier, needier, it was crawling up his spine, up the back of his neck, making him feel breathless, and he has to close his eyes just to re-calibrate his brain and breathe. 

He could not fathom how the Piltovians could see such marks as imperfections. They were like art, and Viktor would much rather spend his time looking at something interesting than something over-polished any day.

With the patterns he can see on your skin, he has theories about what must be on the parts he can't see, and he likes it. Not so much that he wouldn't like to make sure of his theories one way or the other – he was flexible, and open to being proved wrong, more than willing to gather more information on this. He takes a sip of his drink and his fingers flex over the handle of his cane and he exhales a tense sigh, and forces himself to look at his supposed conversation partner for a moment again as you lean your head back in a sparkling laugh. 

Torture. It was torture, pure and simple. Honey-thick and sweet as molasses, but torture all the same. 

Your skin glistens in the low golden lights of the party, and Viktor stares. You cleaned up nicely, and nothing about your outfit was inappropriate in itself, but his imagination was more than enough to change that. And he is aching to somehow warp the situation so that it was just you and him and just enough of the golden light to see by. The champagne could stay, and the music, but the band was on thin ice - they would have to be in a different room and preferably on the other side of a locked door. Viktor didn't appreciate interruptions, even in his imagination. He didn't like most of the people attending the party on a good day, and he definitely didn't like them now.

He takes a breath, fixes his posture, and takes another breath. Reminds himself of the reality he was in; the role he was playing. Five-year-plan. Yes. The Academy was getting a research grant from the Council. How nice.

The longer the night stretches on, the more his restraint stretches with it, and it was starting to wear thin. The reasoning he'd done with himself earlier about why he should stay away was starting to feel fickle – convenience? Had that really been his best selling point? What had he been thinking? 

It was itching at the back of his mind, the wrongness of forcing himself to pretend he didn't want to get closer, didn't want to go up and compliment you, to see you smile, to steal the privilege of your company for as long as he could, hopefully for the rest of the night. And currently, he was having a hard time convincing himself that the simplicity and convenience of keeping things how they had been before was worth it.

The sun had set hours ago, and the tall windows were starting to let in starlight, and when he finally gets a moment alone with you, it's while you're looking up at the sky, leaning over at a slightly awkward angle to be able to see as much of the sky as possible. 

He looks at you there for a moment, and takes a slow, deep breath. And then he walks to your side. 

If he was going to fail at this, he was going to fail fast and hard. Efficiently. And hopefully with minimal damage.

"Personally," he says calmly, "I prefer the view out there."

You turn to look at him, and he pretends to be totally casual and cool and collected and not nervous at all.

You look out the window again, and then, hum in agreement. "Unfortunately, I prefer the temperature in here." You answer with a small sigh and a half shrug, and now, Viktor turns to look at you.

Because now, now this was a problem that he had a solution for. 

He hmms in answer, and does a little double check in his head; yes, the upper levels of the building should be empty. The working staff was all here and the students were home. Should be vacant.

Viktor smiles a little. “How fortunate, then,” he says quietly, conspiratorially, “that we have an observatory tower.” 

For a single second, you look surprised. And then you blink, and a smile spreads over your lips. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I assume you have the keys?” 

Viktor shrugs nonchalantly. 

You grin and grab his hand, already moving towards the exit. “What are we waiting for, then?”

[thicctails]

△Early Morning Comfort△

Get Better Children won the poll (I'm not surprised, y'all love those tragic triangles, huh?) so here's a little piece about one of the times Scalene and Euclid had to take care of Dipper and Mabel!

The babies were crying again.

Scalene watched the doorway even as she glided across the walls of the nursery, listening for the sound of footsteps. They almost never came, especially not lately, but she had to be sure before she decided to pull herself into the 3D plane. It was something she'd like to avoid, if she could.

Unfortunately, the hallway remained silent, and little Mabel and Mason continued to wail, their pudgy faces scrunched up in discontent. Scalene looked over at her husband and found that he was looking right back at her. They shared a knowing look, and Scalene took a deep breath.

The transition from the second dimension to the third was anything but fun. The red triangle couldn't help but wince as she felt her flesh and exoskeleton rush to adapt to the sudden change, muscles and bones knitting together to keep her organs from spilling out onto the floor. Her injuries screamed and flickered rapidly, small droplets of blood welling up around the edges. Then, without any fanfare, it was over, and the pain was replaced by a sense of vertigo that almost sent her toppling over.

After a few moments of breathing and readjusting to the feeling of being three dimensional, Scalene floated towards the twins, peering down into the crib. Euclid was already trying to soothe Mabel, so she focused her attention on Mason, her little Dipper. Using her one remaining hand, she gently ran her fingers through his wispy hair, shushing him softly. She was beginning to wonder if this would be another night where their more human forms were needed, but the little boy began to settle when he cracked a sleepy eye open and saw the loving face of his caregiver.

His twin wasn't far behind, content to simply gnaw on Euclid's hat, which she had somehow managed to grab. Her husband merely crinkled his eyes in affectionate amusement, happy to have appeased the infant.

"They're so easy to settle." Scalene mused aloud as she gently traced the constellation birthmark beneath her thumb. She looked towards the door again, a glowing pulse of angry crimson flashing across her form for a moment, "I don't know why they even bothered to have offspring if they didn't want to care for them. They were blessed with twins, yet you would think them childless."

"I'm not sure they meant to reproduce, my darling. They seem to be rather young compared to the other parental humans we've seen." Euclid replied, gently tucking a soft blanket around Mabel, who wrapped a wrinkly fist around his hand. Euclid's eyes sparkled, and he let out a quiet hum, "Still, that's no excuse to neglect these two little stars. I wish they would find someone more suited to care for them."

"As do I." Scalene sighed, "They deserve much more than what they've got, more than we can give them."

A comfortable silence settled over the nursery, broken occasionally by the twins' babbling. As the clock ticked quietly in the corner, Mabel and Mason settled back down to sleep, leaving the two Euclideans as the only awake beings in the house.

"Do you think Bill would have liked them?"

Scalene startled slightly at the question and turned towards Euclid, who was gently petting Mabel's head as he eased his hat free from her grasp, unused to hearing her husband bring up their son. It was a painful topic for both of them, and it was rare for his name to be spoken aloud.

Scalene pondered the question, thinking about how her little stargazer had been in his youth, and how he'd been before... The accident. He'd been bright, curious, creative and more than a little mischievous. He'd been different, special, though not many had seen it that way. All he'd wanted was to show them the stars.

She looked down at Mason's birthmark and remembered the awe she'd felt when she realized that the boy had been marked by the stars.

"Yeah," she managed to rasp out, "I think he would have."

[katiefrog217]

...

Hello everyone! What's it been like, a week since I last properly posted something? That's my bad. I've really wanted to draw but if you can still believe it, my hand(s) are still recovering, and I was trying forced to take a break.

Am trying to get back into drawing bit by bit, and also trying to settle my style with the Ineffables.

As practice, I drew a more modern humanoid form for the both of them, as sort of a modern day take on their (rough) Eden Designs.

I don't want to info dump everything in this post, as I hope to one day make a Master Post for this AU, but here are some tidbits:

It's uncomfortable for a dragon to maintain a fully human looking form, though it's not impossible. Both Crowley and Azi compensate with accessories.

The longer a Celestial/Demonic Dragon spends on Earth, the more they have the urge to Hoard (usually something of their interest). Azi's is his books and bookshop, while Crowely's revolves around fashion and accessories (usually star related).

Crowley has a massive collection of pins and cufflinks revolving around constellations. The ones he's wearing here are Serpens and Leo - thought his other favorite combo is Corvus and Columba (honorable mentions go to Centaurus and Draco).

Azi's ear cuffs are Winged Serpents.

In Dragon AU, Crowley tends to wear more long styles than short.

Crowley wears his scales out for the aesthetic.

Alright, I think those are the main points for now, but if you are at all curious, feel free to Send Me An Ask! I'd love to answer questions on this au!

If you want to see their Dragon Forms, check HERE.

[buckysgrace]

Could I request a little fluff of steve making reader breakfast the morning after??

You waddled your way from the bathroom to the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of panties as your body ached in protest. You were sore. Very, very sore.

Steve was in front of the stove as you wobbled towards him, wearing an old pair of basketball shorts and long socks. You drifted your eyes across his bare back, taking in his constellations of moles before he snapped his head towards you.

"I made pancakes," He started as he glimpsed towards you, a gentle smile pulled onto his lips, "We're out of about, uh everything else. But there is apple juice." He added as he turned towards you, giving your cheek a gentle kiss.

You sighed deeply as your body meshed against his, fitting like a puzzle piece as he slowly inspected you. His eyes fell to your neck, likely taking in the marks that he'd left on you from last night.

"Mhm," You hummed, biting back a giggle as he wrapped his warm arms around your waist. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against your cheek, smiling brightly as he inhaled your scent, "Don't burn them." You teased, listening to the way he dramatically whined before he pulled away.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked as he began to scrape the spatula underneath the edge of the pancake, knitting his eyebrows together in concentration before he got it flipped over. He grinned as he held up the pan, showing how it was the perfect shade of golden brown.

"Incredible," You added as you slowly straddled the stool, the area between your thighs still a little sore, "I slept so hard I didn't dream of anything."

"Is that good?" He looked back at you curiously, his brown eyes wide for a moment as he examined you. You crossed your legs, not failing to notice the way he followed your movements.

"Yes," You replied with a grin, "It means I slept really good. Like a baby." You added, watching the way he began to cut your pancake up for you. He squeezed a good amount of syrup onto it next, wincing as the sticky liquid dripped onto his fingers.

"Really?" He asked as he washed his fingers off, glancing over at you every so often to confirm that you were still alright. You pressed your lips together as a smile began to form. He was cute. And sweet.

"Mhm," You added as you rested your cheek against your hand, "You have a soft bed. And arms." You told him, leaning forward as he fed you the first bite of the pancake. You chewed on it, impressed with how good it tasted.

"Could be yours." Steve told you slowly as he removed the fork from your mouth, slowly dragging it across your bottom lip. You licked away the sticky syrup as you chewed on the fluffy pancake.

"Your arms?" You covered your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows together as you questioned him. You hid your smile easily this time as a curious look formed on features. He parted his pink lips, then pressed them together before he started again.

"Wha-, no," He responded with a laugh, "My bed. It could be yours too." He clarified with a nod of his head, turning his attention towards the banana that he seemed focused on peeling.

Your heart began to hammer roughly as another smile grew, more serious this time as you took in the way his cheeks were beginning to flush. You exhaled quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting.

"I'd like that," You told him as his eyes snapped towards you, like he was once again confirming that you meant it, "We're going to have to go grocery shopping first though." You told him seriously, pointing the fork playfully to show that you meant business. He chuckled at you, eyes warm and filled with joy. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[tiredfox64]

Giant Liu kang, okay I'll shut up

No the reader isnt even small, he's just fucking big, bro is a god my guy😭😭😭

Run! It’s God

Yip notes: You can’t go asking this WHEN IM BACK IN MY GODZILLA ERA

Pairing: Liu Kang (MK1) x Gn reader

Warnings‼️: Short stack

Some may think they will not meet God until they die. Some believe they will see God during a big event that was told in a scripture. Some believe God is not with us. Maybe God is created. Maybe there was never a God

But God is watching us. Hi Liu Kang!

Liu Kang is no ordinary god. He was once human like you and me. He understands how curious humans can be and how emotional they are. It comforts him to watch over his creations. It reminds him of his past life. Though it’s hard to get a clear look at them when his eyes glow bright. It attracts all eyes onto him. He can’t risk others acknowledging his presence. He has found a solution around this issue and that’s by going out at night. Yes, strange solution, he knows. But when his eyes blend in with the stars or even city lights it makes it seem like he’s not even there. But to truly pull that trick off he must change forms. He finds it works best when he is in the form of a titan.

Since the beginning of this timeline, Liu Kang has gained the ability to grow large like a titan. He doesn’t do it often since it involves a lot of energy from an amulet. But tonight he will use it again so he can go out and see the people. They better be acting good or he swears to himself—

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The night sky was so clear. Not a dark blue cloud in the sky that could hide away the moon. It was full and bright, using its light to guide your way up the hill. The somewhat overgrown grass tinkles and scratches at your ankles as you reach the top. There you see your favorite spot, a single bench next to a willow tree. The view you get from this height is incredible. You could see how the city lights up with life. Even when the world is dark there are still people on the move whether it be working, partying, or just enjoying life. That’s what you’re doing, enjoying life. The area is quiet with only a few cars driving by at the bottom of the hill. You feel the breeze flow over your body as you take a seat on the wooden bench.

You take deep breaths and feel your heart slow down to the serenity of the experience. It’s good to take time to step back from life’s hardships and breathe. It doesn’t matter if they are large or small, life is hard and it stresses you out to no end. For your own sanity, you must step away. So how about you take a look up at the beautiful stars tonight. Maybe you will find some constellations like the Draco or the Hydra constellation. That’s if the stars would stop moving-

The stars are doing what? The stars are what?

That’s not right. The stars are shifting too fast. Maybe it’s a plane? No, if it was a plane then there would be green and red lights flashing in and out. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. But if they were why would it be those two specific stars that are moving around? Actually, now that you are staring at them, they seem larger than the others. Even a little hint of blue in them. Great, now the stars are blinking—WHAT?

Oh, it seems like I have been found. I might as well acknowledge my presence.

In that moment you see something moving around. You can’t tell exactly what it is but it’s huge. Those two glowing lights you know aren’t stars come closer to you. The ground beneath you shakes as if a tyrannosaurus is coming towards you. You are frozen in fear, unable to move your legs that wobble from the shaky ground. Finally, you see a face show up in front of you.

“Good evening-“

“GOOD GOD- YOU’RE HUGE!” You yell.

Your hand goes flying up to cover your mouth. The look on Liu Kang’s face shows both shock and disappointment. He did not mean to startle you. Poor thing, your heart must be jumping. Your legs begin to work and you run behind the tree before shouting,

“I’M SORRY!”

“Oh, no, please do not hide from me. I did not mean to scare you.” Liu Kang speaks in a gentle voice. Sure, his voice can be a little authoritative but he is trying his best to be friendly right now.

You peek your head out from behind the thick trunk of the willow tree. You are surprised by how gentle his voice seems. You still stay behind the tree just in case you are being tricked. But that face that Liu Kang was giving you was getting to your soul. His eyes are not harsh but more like a soft light. He does back away from the hill a little to give you some space. You slowly walk away from the tree and get closer to the bench to get a better look at him.

Your mind cannot comprehend what is happening. Your eyes stare upon a man who is way bigger than you. This is not an elephant sized man, this is a dinosaur sized man. Nope, you are lowballing, this man is the size of Godzilla. Final Wars Godzilla to be exact. His eyes, as we have established, glow in ways that are impossible.

You are a good person, you do no wrong. Your system is clean. If there were any drugs or alcohol found in your system then that was not you who put them in your body. You are not drunk and you are not high on anything. What would make you high enough to make everything feel normal but make you see a huge man?

I’d say datura but legally I don’t know anything about it.

“I apologize for scaring you. I am Lord Liu Kang, protector of Earthrealm and God of fire.” He bows to you.

God? Earthrealm? This is so strange. You plop down on the bench to take a moment to think about this all. It all feels real but your brain can’t comprehend it. You pinch yourself to make sure this is not a dream. Liu Kang lets out a light chuckle at your display of confusion. Usually people just accept who he is or say “What in the actual fuck” but you are truly unable to accept the situation at hand.

“Perhaps I should explain everything to you.” He suggests.

“Yeah…yeah that would help a lot. Thanks.”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

So on a random night you somehow met God? Fascinating! No one will believe you but that’s okay. This will stay between you and Liu Kang.

He was real, as real as the bench you sat on. He even let you touch his hand to make you realize that he was real. He told you the truth that he likes watching humans go about their lives, it’s just not easy with some aspects of him. Even if he changed his clothes his eyes would still stand out. That’s why he goes out at night.

He didn’t expect you to come out and sit at the top of the hill. He was curious about what you were up to since you didn’t seem to be doing anything, It seems like he got too close since you caught him. But now that all that mess was settled…what now? You have a fire god next to you on this hill, no cars are coming by at this time, and you’re alone with each other. Well, you could continue appreciating the view with him.

“Do you often interact with people?” You ask.

“Yes, but not many are strangers. The people I interact with are my warriors and the monks at the Wu Shi Academy.”

“So not many people from the city, huh? Probably not many in the countryside either I’m guessing.”

Liu Kang chuckles before replying, “No. You are the first stranger I have truly interacted with. I do appreciate that you did not run away.”

Don’t you just feel special? You smile as you continue looking at the city lights while kicking your feet. You feel his eyes staring down at you but you don’t look at him. You feel like it would be rude. He’s not looking at you with any ill will. He’s just taking in the fact that he doesn’t speak with others that are not fighters. It’s a nice change. You seem to be a person going through life without the thought of fighting for your realm or having huge goals that seem impossible to achieve for a being like you.

“Would you like to get a different view of the city?” He asks.

You turn around and give him a look of curiosity which is a cute look for you. You tilt your head slightly to the side while you think about it. You decide why the hell not. Let’s see what he will do for you.

“Sure!”

Liu Kang places his hand gently on the ground, the grass flattening below him. You look at him to confirm your suspicions of him wanting you to climb into his hand. He nods his head while having a warm smile on his lips. You take your time climbing onto his palm. Your nails claw at his skin as your feet kick you off the ground. You tumble onto his hand before giving him the thumbs up. His other hand swoops in to give you more space and prevent you from falling off. He slowly lifts you higher in the sky which makes you close your eyes in anticipation. Once the movement stops and you feel the wind blow a little harder you open your eyes.

Your eyes sparkle as brightly as the city lights. You get a clearer view of the buildings that are behind and beside the tall ones. So many colors come from apartment buildings with windows glowing blue, purple, red, or multicolor. You watch multiple motorcycles weave through traffic while the cars beep at them. The headlights of cars range from pure white to yellow which illuminates the streets.

“Wow…the city looks entirely different from this point of view.” You reply in amazement.

“Indeed it does. A different point of view is sometimes wonderful.” He says before continuing to look at the city.

The moment lasted for a long time. The only thing that is on your mind is how gorgeous it is and how lucky you are to be in this situation. You rest your head against his finger as you continue looking. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. You stay like that for fifteen minutes before you feel him slowly bring you down. He opens his hands to allow you to get back on the ground. You hop off his hand with no complaints. You had your moment.

“You should get home. It is getting late and you must be tired.” He advises you.

You nod your head before making your way down the hill. You walk slowly since you truly don’t want to leave this moment. But Liu Kang is already walking away. You swiftly turn around and yell to him.

“Lord Liu Kang, can I ask you something?!”

He turns around and his bright eyes are almost the only thing you can see. You see his silhouette but the rest of him was hard to see in the dark.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

“Can we do this again?!” You yell.

You don’t see it but a smile appears on the fire god’s face, “Of course.”

Yap notes: I didn't get a nosebleed this time but I did have a crisis because I was thinking about how many depict god as having glowing eyes. The only one I could think of in the moment was that short film called The Portrait of God and boy would it suck if Liu Kang looked like that. And then (this is the bad part) I remembered this video or even picture that I believe was about a captured god whose limbs were being stretched and it was in pain. The problem is I can't find it and now I'm wondering if I made it up or the plot is not right...I went on this rant for too long. I promise I did not write this to distract myself from taking notes. Adiós!

[shogunish]

𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻.

satoru x f! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, satoru and reader explore their relationship, space talk bc i'm a sucker for that

970 words

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?’’ said satoru with cerulean eyes hidden behind sunnies that were as dark as the space in-between the seemingly infinite stars. his face was pale as the moonlight, hair white as snow in the middle of december and those eyes..oh, they held the skies and everything holy in them.

little dots sparkled in the dark of the night sky which was illuminated by the moon which merely reflected the sun’s own light. craters and their shadows were visible to the naked eye - no six eyes were needed for that. dew lay atop blades of green grass like countless little crystals just waiting to disappear once the sun would kiss them with its first rays. gently, the grass tickled satoru’s ankles as he sat down right next to you.

his gaze drifted from the moon towards your awestruck face scrutinizing the moon and trying to read constellations that you had never been able to find. too many stars, you always said and gave up with a pout. it was cute, satoru thought. even though he knew nothing about the night sky and its celestial wonders, he did know about you.

a chuckle vibrated in the back of his throat, deep like the ocean yet soft like the waves kissing the shore. he shrugged his shoulders almost nonchalantly as if amused. “she looks a little lonely, but maybe that’s why i consider her beautiful.”

“the moon isn’t that lonely. all these little dots of stars are her company and yet..the sun is the star closest to her and lights her up.” your voice came out as nothing but a murmur that was as gentle as the caress of the night breeze caressing the leaves of a tree above.

a hum of understanding. satoru didn’t know why he was next to you, shoulder to shoulder and having this sort of conversation with you, yet his heart seemed to know the answer and spoke before his brain could approve. “do you think the moon is the sun’s favorite companion?”

“who can say what the sun truly thinks of the moon? he’s big and complex and pulls everyone in his orbit like magic.” leaning back, you supported your weight on your palms. then, your eyes drifted over to satoru. the night cast gentle shadows upon his defined yet soft features that would always distract you during yaga’s classes. a little unfair how the gods crafted satoru with such care and the fingertips of a mother. “what i can say is that the sun is the moon’s favorite companion.”

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. going on missions with satoru was a walk in the park. it was always him who exorcized the curse and treated you to a bowl of ramen in the hidden streets of tokyo. you envied him. if only you could show him your strength for once, but he always insisted on keeping you safe.

satoru tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow furrowed before he came to face you with a curious expression on his face. “what would happen to the moon if she strays too far?”

for a moment, you had no words. was this not..about the moon and space and everything lingering in-between? a blush dusted the apples of your cheeks, your tone a little wistful. “i think the moon would feel lonely and roam the emptiness of space forever.”

dissatisfaction was painted all over satoru’s face and a huff left his lips; his breath came out in a little white cloud of smoke. “that fate is too depressing,” he stated, “then what if the moon came closer to the sun?”

to sit next to satoru with the inside of the universe bared to your eyes was probably the closest thing to bliss you’d ever experience. perhaps, this was a little taste of paradise just behind the dormitories, hidden behind trees and bushes and atop a small hill where the grass was still dewy. “the things that get too close to the sun burn to ash. but if the sun truly loves the moon, i hope he’ll let her come close enough to spend an eternity together.”

underneath satoru’s ribs, his heart was suddenly pounding. he liked to believe that the moon reciprocated the feelings the sun had for her, but..he still tested the waters and only dipped a toe into the waters. “i think the sun would appreciate if the moon came a little closer.”

there was no infinity when you scooted a little closer to satoru and your shoulder gently bumped against his. nowadays, it was rare to see satoru without infinity surrounding him. you couldn’t possibly blame him for that decision and yet, you appreciated this little gesture more than any “good morning”, than any hug and any bowl of ramen he’d treat you to.

he trusted you.

he didn’t burn you.

instead, he carefully lured you into his orbit and refused to let you leave his space.

“like this?” you giggled, eyes crinkling at the edges.

for some reason, satoru was still dissatisfied. sure, you were quite a bit closer than before, but his heart yearned for more. “mh, no. more like this.”

and before the words on the tip of your tongue could fall, satoru cradled the back of your neck with a warm palm and pulled you in until his lips were upon yours in a sweet kiss. his lips tasted like those strawberry lollipops he always sucked on and his breath warmed the apples of your cheeks.

when satoru broke the kiss, his lips hovering just above yours, you asked, “how close do you want us to be?”

gentle fingers tugged a strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your warm cheeks. “close enough to taste you.”

taglist. @torusmochi

(if you wanna get added to my taglist, hmu 🧚🏻‍♀️✨)

[clockwayswrites]

Civvie Danny/Jason, Fluffy

@nerdpoe

“Um, I’m sorry,” a voice said, interrupting Jason’s reading. He looked up into deep blue eyes mostly hidden under unruly bangs. Jason idly wondered if the other was growing it out for a mohawk with the way the sides were shaved or if they just liked having the gangs to hide behind. “Can I share your table? It’s just that…”

They pulled their hand away from rubbing nervously at the back of their neck to motion at the library around them. It had gotten busy while Jason has been reading. There really were no open tables, though there were other seats. That made Jason curious, but weary. Between his size and his fame as a Wayne, people usually avoided him as the first choice to bother. That, or the bee-lined to him in hopes to get in his good graces.

Still, they seemed more apologetic than fame hungry. Jason gave a little shrug and reached out to pull in his spread of books a little. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” they said, gratefully, and sank heavily into the seat. “Most of the tables with plugs are full up and my laptop only pretends to be portable with the shit battery life it has. Wow, sorry, you so do not care about that. I’m only like, day two and a half of no sleep and my mouth tends to go off on its own… as you’re hearing right now. I should really just shut up.”

Their cheeks were bright red as they practically hid behind the truly ancient behemoth of a laptop. It made the freckles that had been nearly invisible on their tan skin before stand out like constellations.

“Hey, it’s fine, we’ve all been there. College is just like that,” Jason said, wanting to assure them for some reason. “I’m Jason… he, they.”

Tim and Cass had been encouraging him to use his pronouns when introducing himself. He was still getting used to it, but it was freeing. Besides, he could ignore any shit looks he got for it, it wasn’t like the bigots could hurt him.

That blue gaze peaked back out from under the bangs and they smiled a little. “Danny. Any, really, but people use he mostly.”

Jason returned the smile before turning his attention back to the book he’d been pouring through. Maybe in an hour he’d ask if Danny wanted to go get coffee. He bet by asking he’d get to see that blush again.

-

Masterpost

Feel free to add onto this if you want!

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadow And Paws

Chapter 5: Shared Vulnerabilities

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

Warnings: nothing just fluff and bonding, vulnerabilities shared

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I’m trying to progress the relationship with them so this is pretty much a filler I’m sorry-

Word Count: 888

Masterlist | Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The sanctuary’s night was still, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional chirp of crickets. The group had settled around the flames, each in their own way. Foxy sat closest to the fire, the light dancing across their features, their tail curling comfortably around their legs. Price leaned against a log, methodically sharpening his knife. Soap sprawled out on his back, his eyes lazily tracing constellations above. Gaz perched on a low-hanging branch, as if ready to take flight at any moment, while Ghost lingered in the shadows, silent but present.

The stillness wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy with unspoken things. Finally, Foxy broke the silence, their tone light but curious. “So, how’d you all end up together? Doesn’t exactly seem like a natural fit.”

Soap chuckled, his tail wagging slightly as he tilted his head to glance at Price. “Aye, we’re not exactly what you’d call conventional, are we, Cap?”

Price’s lip twitched in what could have been a smile. “Conventional doesn’t get the job done.” He set his knife down, leaning back against the log. “It’s not about where you come from. It’s about what you bring to the table.”

Foxy arched a brow, their gaze playful. “And what do you bring, Price? Besides bossing everyone around, of course.”

The group broke into laughter. Even Ghost let out a low huff of amusement.

“Discipline,” Price replied simply, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

“Now that,” Soap chimed in, “is a fancy way of sayin’ ‘he barks orders.’”

Gaz smirked from his perch. “Sounds about right to me.”

The conversation carried on, lighter now, the group easing into the moment. But then Soap turned to Foxy, his expression softening. “What about you? How’d you end up out here, takin’ on all this by yourself?”

Foxy hesitated, their fingers idly brushing against the scars on their arms. The firelight glinted in their eyes as they looked away. “Someone has to protect this place. If I don’t, who will?” Their voice was quiet but steady, though the weight of the words hung heavy in the air.

Gaz’s voice broke the silence, warm and sincere. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Foxy’s gaze flicked to him, then to the others. Price gave a firm nod, Soap offered a reassuring grin, and even Ghost’s unreadable stare seemed softer. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, a step closer to trust.

Soap stretched dramatically, breaking the tension with a groan. “Right, since we’re all gettin’ deep and meaningful, how about we share somethin’ a bit more fun? Like the most embarrassin’ thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Foxy blinked, caught off guard. “That’s quite the pivot.”

“I’ll start,” Soap said, grinning. “I once climbed a tree to impress a lass. Got stuck up there for hours ‘cause I was too stubborn to ask for help.”

The group erupted into laughter, Foxy clutching their sides as Soap held up his hands in mock surrender.

Gaz leaned forward, still chuckling. “That’s nothing. I fell out of a tree during a recon mission once—landed right in the middle of an enemy patrol. Played it off like I meant to be there, but Price wasn’t too happy about having to pull me out.”

Price shook his head, his mustache twitching. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck, mate.”

Foxy smirked, their tail flicking. “You guys really have a thing with trees, huh?”

Gaz shot them a playful glare. “What about you? Got an embarrassing story to share?”

Foxy hesitated, a sly smile tugging at their lips. “Oh, I’ve got plenty. Like the time I tried to outsmart a bear to get some honey. Let’s just say I ran faster than I ever thought I could.”

Soap burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “A bear? You’re braver than I thought, Foxy.”

“Or dumber,” Foxy countered, grinning.

The group’s laughter filled the night, the fire crackling warmly in the background. Even Ghost shared a quiet story—one about mistaking a cat for an enemy in the dead of night, which earned a round of chuckles and a rare, self-deprecating smirk.

As the laughter died down, a thoughtful silence settled over the group. Price leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. “We’ve been through a lot together, but I don’t think we’ve ever properly introduced ourselves.”

The others glanced at one another, hesitant. Price looked at Foxy, his expression encouraging.

Foxy shifted, their gaze dropping to the fire. After a moment of silence, their name slipped from their lips, soft but clear.

The boys looked at them curiously. Soap tilted his head, his voice gentle. “Come again, love?”

Foxy swallowed, their voice steadier this time. “My name. That’s what it is.” They repeated it, their tone quieter but sure.

The group exchanged glances before Price nodded. “Fair enough.”

Soap grinned. “Guess it’s only fair we return the favor. Name’s Johnny.”

Gaz followed, his falcon-like gaze warm. “Kyle.”

Ghost hesitated, his voice low. “Simon.”

Finally, Price spoke, his tone firm. “John.”

Foxy’s gaze swept over them, something warm settling in their chest. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Properly.”

Soap smirked, his tail flicking. “Guess we’re not just strangers anymore, eh?”

The group fell into an easy silence, the firelight reflecting the beginnings of something deeper—something that felt a little like home.

——

End of Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[seiwas]

here for your game!! i am kindly asking for megumi and royal au!! 💗 hope you’re doing well sel!!

cici!! thanks for playing with me 🥺 this was so fun to think about! i hope you’re doing well too 🥺

megumi + royal au

megumi was born to be your knight, and yuuji your prince.

at least, that was what was intended.

your mothers had all grown together in a town south of where she eventually married into. your mother and yuuji’s had both married into royalty, while megumi’s remained in the noble high class.

every summer, your families would gather on an island east of the southern sea—a place your mothers had spent their blazing summers in as maidens. it was where they could be free, without the watching eyes of their tutors from the academy.

it was where megumi’s mother had met his father, and where they eventually fell in love, then married. megumi was born in the winter, but you are certain that if he were born in the summer, his first breath would have been the crisp air of the southern sea.

the island is your second home, a place where you, megumi, and yuuji grew up together. afternoon tag games in fields of cosmos, and stargazing at night, just at the hilltop overlooking the island’s coast. it holds every memory you keep close to your chest.

you lost your first tooth there when you slammed face-first into yuuji’s back after finally catching up to him in your game of chase. yuuji ran straight back to the summer house to call for your mother, but megumi remained right there beside you, crouched low with his arm stretched out to your lips. he’d pulled his sleeves all the way down for it, offering up the fabric for you to bite into to stop the bleeding in the meantime.

memories of summer remind you of yuuji’s bright eyes, like the sun, constantly beckoning you and megumi for a day of adventure. they remind you of megumi’s, a deep blue-green that takes on light like the stars. a depth hidden in constellations; to this day, they still make you curious, and you still find yourself lost in them more times than you would admit.

you were a formidable trio, your bond unbreakable the same way your mothers’ was. a relationship grown in fondness but predestined all the same. you had an inkling early on that you and yuuji were to be paired at some point of your lives.

and you love him, yes. it is impossible not to, in some way. but you do not love him like that—for you, it has always been megumi.

since training for knighthood in your kingdom, and being orphaned from a tragic accident that killed both his parents, megumi has been by your side, his life sworn to yours.

he watches you quietly and carefully, standing close to you when you go into town. his body is but your human shield, though you know it is out of more than just his obligation when he remains on edge, even for paper cuts and needle pricks from sewing his or yuuji’s latest handkerchiefs.

megumi has a steady resolve and an even steadier hand; he would occasionally teach you the essentials of holding a knife, though you know combat training is far from what any of your tutors would want you to be doing on a sunday night.

“for your letters, and other things,” he’d penned on the note attached to his gift for your 16th birthday.

a thin, dainty thing. sharp at the tip with elegant vines at its base. a letter opener.

you do not receive as many letters as you send off, he knows that much. the only letters you write are for him and yuuji, but even those are different in nature; yuuji’s often come in elegant envelopes, wax-sealed with his family crest. megumi’s, however, are on papers torn in haste, folded to be slipped discreetly into his pockets, or to be slid right underneath his door.

‘and other things’ he had said, and you are certain he means ‘for your protection, when i cannot be there’. it fits perfectly into the palm of your hand and is light enough for you to carry wherever you go. he has given you enough lessons for you to know how to use it when you need to.

marriage is a topic you have yet to fully speak to your parents about. they have never imposed it on you, knowing full well there is no rush, especially when your father is not so particular about political alliances. but ever since you were young, you have always known it was predestined to be yuuji.

but again, that was what was intended.

during the tail end of your 17th spring, the gojo family put out a hunt. the royal family only comprised the lone gojo king, his own parents now retired and out of the political scene—and he needed an heir.

to your surprise, the king himself appeared on your family’s doorstep, carefully assessing all the boys in your household.

then, his blue eyes landed right next to you, to the boy who has always been right by your side; the boy who has sworn his life to yours by knighthood.

“you,” the gojo king points.

your megumi.

you freeze, gripping the letter opener behind you. you don’t know how to feel; you can’t tell if this is a good thing or not.

would he have to leave?

the gojo kingdom is further up north, and surely megumi cannot reign as its prince if he is away from it.

megumi looks at the king, then at you.

what do you do?