#the background's kinda dull but other than that

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Witch Moon doodle that is now my lock screen. Not as detailed as I’d like it to be, but not bad. Still not sure about the colors, though.

[cumironi]

ONE TOO MANY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

wc. 4,3k | m.list | part. 2

warning. boyfriends! satosugu, angst to fluff (kinda), petnames, light arguments, silent treatment, and idk.

as you sit on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows across the room, you glance at the clock. it's late—much later than usual for geto and gojo to be coming home. a knot of worry tightens in your chest, but you push it aside. you know their work can be demanding, but you miss them.

the door finally creaks open, and your heart leaps as geto and gojo step inside. but something feels off. their usual smiles are absent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. geto barely acknowledges you with a nod, and gojo doesn't even glance your way, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“hey...” you begin softly, but your voice trails off as they move around the room like you're not even there. geto drops his bag by the door and heads for the stairs, clearly ready to crash in bed without a word. gojo's usually bright eyes are dull, and when he finally looks at you, it's with a tired expression that makes your heart sink.

“i’m just... really tired,” gojo mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze.

you feel a wave of frustration and hurt rise within you. they’ve had long days before, but they’ve never been so dismissive. you stand up, crossing your arms, trying to figure out what to say, how to break through whatever barrier has suddenly sprung up between you. “baby... what's going on?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

geto pauses at the base of the stairs, sighing deeply, “just... give us some space, okay? we’ve had a rough day.”

his words hit you harder than they should, and you’re left standing there, feeling more alone than ever as they head off to bed without another word. the room feels colder, emptier, and you’re left wondering if it’s something you did, or if there’s something they’re not telling you.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen. your stomach does a flip, a hint of excitement mixing with lingering unease. you slide out of bed and pad down the stairs, your heart rate picking up as you near the kitchen.

the sight that greets you is unexpected. geto and gojo stand side by side, their back to you as they putter in the kitchen. gojo's tall form easily dominates the space, his shoulders broader than you remembered. geto's hair is ruffled, still messy from sleep, and it's a stark contrast to his usually composed appearance. they haven't noticed you yet, engrossed in their task as they move around each other in a synchronized dance.

you lean against the doorway, watching them for a moment. gojo's slender fingers skillfully flip pancakes, and geto hums along to the music playing softly in the background, a spatula in his hand as he tends to the bacon.

it's a scene so domestic and natural, yet it feels surreal given their cold demeanor from last night. it's as if they're trying to pretend yesterday never happened, to go back to normalcy. geto suddenly looks up, catching your gaze. his expression turns serious, his dark eyes locking onto yours. gojo continues cooking, his back still to you, but you can almost feel the tension radiating from him.

“you're up,” geto comments, his voice neutral.

you clear your throat, trying to keep your tone light, “yeah, the coffee smell woke me up.”

“coffee's almost done,” gojo says without turning around, his voice lacking its usual playful edge. an awkward silence settles over the room, thick and stifling.

you watch as they continue to cook, each movement precise and calculated. no small talk, no casual touches or laughter like you're used to. gojo plates the pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table, before finally turning to face you. his normally bright eyes are cool and detached.

“breakfast is ready,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the distance between you growing wider with every passing moment. the breakfast they've prepared looks delicious, but sitting down to eat together feels like an impossible feat given the current atmosphere.

you shift your weight, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further. the air in the kitchen is charged, and the earlier domestic scene has been shattered. geto turns back to the stove, his shoulders tense as he tends to the food. gojo continues flipping pancakes, his movements more rigid than normal.

“so...” you begin, your voice breaking the silence, “about last night—”

“don't,” geto interrupts, his voice firm. “can we just not do this right now?”

his blunt response hangs in the air, and you're taken aback by his abruptness. you feel your frustration and confusion mounting, but before you can say anything, gojo puts down the spatula, his voice laced with irritation.

“yeah, maybe we should just focus on the food,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the room falls into an awkward silence again, only the sound of cooking filling the air. you can feel the tension building, the unspoken words and emotions hanging heavily between you.

you look at them for a second, just staring without saying a words and they can see how quickly your expression change to cold as clear as the day. you swallow hard, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. instead, you just nod, barely meeting his eyes as you mumble, “okay.” your voice comes out small, almost defeated, as you focus on the floor.

even as you agree to let it go, the hurt gnaws at you. you want to bridge the gap, to reach out to them, but the coldness in their demeanor keeps you at arm’s length. the silence stretches on, and you’re left feeling more alone than ever, standing just a few feet away from the two people you thought you were closest to.

the meal is eaten in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. neither geto nor gojo make an effort to talk like they usually do, their eyes focused on their food. gojo's movements are mechanical, while geto's gaze keeps shifting towards you, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination to keep his distance.

as you finish eating, they quickly rise, busying themselves with cleaning up, still avoiding any meaningful eye contact with you.

as satoru reaches for your plate, you finally speak up, your voice firmer than you expected, “don’t.” he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your plate. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look up. “i’ll do it myself,” you add, your tone making it clear that this isn’t up for debate.

geto looks up, his eyes flicking between you and gojo as if silently trying to communicate. gojo seems ready to argue, his jaw clenching, but geto subtly shakes his head, a silent warning. a beat of tense silence passes before gojo reluctantly pulls back his hand, a flash of something that looks like hurt in his eyes. he mumbles something under his breath that you don't quite catch.

pushing down the knot of emotions threatening to choke you, you stand up from the table and walk towards the sink where geto is still standing, his presence a heavy weight in the small space. without looking at him, you ask, your voice edged with coldness, “are you done?”

geto nods, his expression unreadable as he steps back slightly. there’s a moment where you consider softening your tone, but the way they’ve been treating you today and days before hardens your resolve.

“then move,” you say, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. if they want to treat you like this, then you’re not going to just sit there and take it. you’ve given them space, tried to be patient, but their coldness is more than you can handle right now.

geto hesitates, a flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before he steps aside, giving you room to move past him. you take your plate to the sink, the cool metal under your fingers grounding you as you begin to rinse it off, your movements sharp, deliberate.

as you stand there, the sound of running water filling the silence, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders. but you don’t turn around. if they want to push you away, you won’t beg them to stay close. not tonight, not anymore.

geto remains where he stands, watching you silently, while gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you as well. the minutes pass in a tense silence, the sound of the water and the clinking of dishes the only noise. you can feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into your skin, but you keep your focus on the task at hand, refusing to break.

geto finally breaks the silence, his voice soft, but with an edge of determination, “can we talk?”

you pause for a moment, letting his request hang in the air. a bitter scoff escapes your lips as you turn off the water, feeling a surge of irony wash over you. you turn to face him, your expression hard as you look between geto and satoru. “oh, now you wanna talk?” you ask, your voice laced with mockery. “when i wanted to talk, you both shut me out. but now that i’m doing the same, suddenly it’s time for a conversation?”

there’s a biting edge to your words, a reflection of the hurt and frustration that’s been building up inside you all weeks. you don’t bother hiding it, letting them feel a fraction of what you’ve been feeling. if they want to push you away, then they’ll have to deal with the consequences.

geto falters, his expression flitting momentarily to gojo, before returning to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and stubbornness. gojo doesn’t say anything, his jaw set, but you can sense the tension radiating from him as well.

“i know,” geto starts, his voice a bit shaky, “i know we’re being unfair. we owe you an explanation. we just…” he trails off, his gaze breaking yours as he glances at gojo again, almost seeking validation. gojo remains silent, his face stoic, but his eyes betray a flicker of internal struggle.

they both shift uncomfortably under your sharp words, gojo’s gaze darting away and geto’s expression darkening. their discomfort only adds fuel to your indignation.

“yeah, it’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” you continue, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you ignore me for weeks and then suddenly want to talk when i’m finally done playing your little game. well, too bad. i’m done playing along,” you turn the water off and walk away to your shared bedroom.

gojo’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can step away. the suddenness of his action catches you off guard, his grip tight but not aggressive. “wait,” he says, his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

geto steps towards you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination, “please.”

the desperation in their voices is unmistakable, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability they’ve shown all weeks. it’s enough to make you hesitate, to feel a flicker of reluctance. but you stood on your grounds— trying to stood on your ground. “i have works to do,” you mumble before push his hand away.

the past few days have been a blur, a mixture of long hours and late nights. you've been coming home later and later, deliberately avoiding going to bed with them, choosing instead to crash on the couch, wrapped in a blanket of silence and exhaustion. it’s not just the late nights—it’s the subtle shift in your routine, the way you’ve distanced yourself, mirroring the coldness they showed you that night. you’re not even sure if they’ve noticed, but it’s become your own form of silent rebellion, a way to protect yourself.

tonight is no different. when you finally walk through the door, it’s nearly one in the morning, your body heavy with fatigue. you’re expecting the house to be dark and quiet, but as you step into the kitchen, the soft light catches your attention. they’re both there, geto and gojo, standing near the stove, the faint smell of food lingering in the air.

gojo looks up first, his expression serious but tinged with something you can’t quite place. geto follows, his gaze steady as he watches you enter. “can we talk?” gojo asks, his voice more gentle than it’s been in days.

you hesitate, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag. “talk about what?” you reply, your voice is neutral, guarded. geto steps closer, concern etched into his features. “we heard you’ve started taking missions again,” he says quietly, the words heavy with implication. “why?”

you feel a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or frustration. they ignored you, pushed you away, and now they want to question your choices? it feels like a cruel twist of fate.

“why not?” you shoot back, dropping your bag onto the counter with a soft thud. “i figured if you two can focus on work and shut me out, then maybe i should do the same. why waste time waiting around?”

gojo's expression hardens at your answer, a shadow passing over his features. geto’s eyes flick between you both, his expression pained. “we’re not shutting you out,” gojo insists, his voice strained, “we’re just..”

“busy,” geto finishes, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the kitchen falls into thick silence, the tension stretching the air between you all. gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, while geto stands in the middle, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

you feel the pressure of their gazes on you, waiting for some reaction, some sign of understanding or forgiveness. but instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, your expression carefully neutral. “okay,” you mutter, the word simple but loaded with a cold indifference that makes their attempts at explanation feel small.

gojo shifts his weight, clearly frustrated by your continued coldness. his jaw clenches. geto tries a different angle, his voice soft. “we've been worried about you being out there alone.”

your eyes flicker back to his, and a flash of irritation passes through them. “alone?” you echo, a bitter edge to your tone. “really? you guys have been MIA for weeks, but now you're worried about me being alone?” the absurdity of the situation hits you, and a mocking laugh bubbles up, escaping in a few harsh chuckles. “you guys are unbelievable,” you say, the laughter carrying a mix of disbelief and hurt.

the laughter seems to take them by surprise, their faces reflecting a mix of guilt and confusion. the mocking tone of your voice stings, cutting through their attempts at reconciliation with a sharp edge.

gojo's jaw tenses, his hand clenching into a fist.

geto winces at the sound of your laughter, his eyes downcast. “i know it looks bad,” he murmurs, his voice almost pitiful.

“looks bad?” you repeat, your voice raises an octave, anger leaking into your words. “that's a nice way to put it. you two have been distant for weeks, acting like i don't even exist. then suddenly you're here, in the kitchen, when you know most nights i get home late.”

you step forward, your eyes narrowing as you gesture towards them. “were you waiting for me?” you ask, your voice quiet but seething with anger. “were you hoping to catch me in a weak moment, when i'm tired and vulnerable, so you could have this little heart-to-heart and feel better about yourselves?”

they both take a step back, looking taken aback by your sudden aggression. gojo's expression is a mix of guilt and defensiveness, while geto's eyes widen at the accusation. you take a deep breath, letting the anger ebb away just enough to speak. “i don't have time for this,” you say, letting out a sigh, “i only came home to get my things because my flight leaves in two hours. i’ve got a mission abroad for a week.”

the reality of your departure hangs in the air, the urgency in your voice making it clear that this conversation will have to wait. you turn, starting to gather your things, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as you move. the distance between you all feels like an insurmountable chasm, but for now, you have to focus on what’s ahead.

geto's eyes widen in surprise, while gojo's face pales. “wait—” they both speak at the same time, their voices filled with a mix of shock and desperation. geto quickly regains his composure, stepping forward, his arm reaching out. “hold on a second,” he says, his voice urgent, “you can't just leave—” gojo cuts in, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. “you’re not seriously going alone, are you?”

you brush off geto's arm, continuing to gather your things. “i don't have a choice,” you reply, your voice firm. “the higher-ups assigned me to the mission. i have to go.” gojo steps in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of pleading in them. “can we at least talk about this?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you pause, hesitating for a moment before shaking your head. “there’s nothing to talk about. my flight leaves soon, and i have to get ready.”

you can see the hurt in their eyes, the realization of your words sinking in. they hadn’t been there for you, and now they expected you to stay? to wait around for a conversation you didn’t think they even wanted to have?

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. “what if something happens to you out there?” he says, his voice low and tense. geto steps forward, his eyes on yours, his voice pleading. “you can’t just leave things like this.” the desperation in their voices is a stark contrast to the coldness you’ve been experiencing these past few days. but it’s too little, too late.

your hands pause for a moment, your heart rate increasing at their reactions. you had wanted a reaction, but this intense concern was not what you had expected. you look back at them, your expression carefully nonchalant, despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“why not?” you asked, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. “you two are the ones who have been busy and distant. if you've got your own priorities, then why can't i have mine?”

gojo lets out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “that's not fair,” he mutters, his voice strained. geto looks torn, his eyes flickering between you and gojo. “just because we've been preoccupied doesn’t mean we don’t care.” the guilt in his voice is evident, mirroring the guilt you’ve been feeling. but you push it aside, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

you let out a heavy sigh and sit down, looking up at them with a weary expression. “then what's fair, satoru?” you ask, your voice is steady but tinged with frustration. “tell me. i’ve been waiting for you two for days, weeks even. when i don’t wait around and i finally start doing things for myself, that’s not fair?”

the question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you. the silence that follows is thick with unresolved feelings, leaving the three of you standing on the edge of understanding, yet unable to bridge the gap between you.

gojo's gaze drops to the floor, his jaw clenching as if he’s struggling with his own emotions. geto's eyes flit between you both, his expression pained as he takes in your words. there's a moment of heavy silence before gojo finally speaks up, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

“you're right,” he admits, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “we've been shitty. we’ve been distant, ignoring you, making you feel like we don’t care.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes meeting yours as well. “we messed up,” he adds, his voice soft. “we've been dealing with some things and we shut you out.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair again, his gaze darting away and then back to yours. “we didn't mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere, “we just... we weren't thinking.” the weight of their words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel a pang of sadness at their regret. “but you did hurt me,” you reply softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability.

they both flinch at your words, their expressions flickering with guilt and remorse. gojo lets out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching into fists.

“we know,” he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. geto steps closer, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. “we were idiots,” he says, his voice filled with remorse, “we didn't realize how much we were hurting you until you started spending less time with us.”

you take a deep breath as you stand to leave, the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension still linger between you. “i need to go. ijichi is waiting for me,” you say, the words firm but carrying an undertone of sadness.

you pause at the door, looking back at them. “we can talk when i get home,” you add, offering a faint, weary smile before stepping out. the door closes behind you, leaving them with the weight of your words and the promise of a future conversation.

they both watch you leave, their expressions a mixture of guilt, sorrow and a hint of hope. gojo's shoulders slump as you close the door behind you, while geto lets out a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the empty space where you were just a moment ago.

the apartment feels strangely quiet without you, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air. they both know they have a lot to make up for, but for now, they wait, anxiously anticipating your return.

a week has passed, and the tension has only built as they waited for your return. when you finally come home, the sight that greets you in the living room is striking. geto and gojo are there, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperation. they look worn, their usual composure replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though the time apart has taken a visible toll on them.

they both rise as you enter, their eyes searching your face, a mix of hope and apprehension in their gazes. it’s clear they’ve been counting the days, each passing moment stretching into a painful reminder of their mistakes and your absence.

“hey,” you greet them with a small, tentative smile.

the room is thick with unspoken words and emotions. geto and gojo exchange a glance, their expressions softening slightly at your presence. they both take in your appearance, their eyes roving over you as if checking for any sign of injury from your recent mission. their shoulders relax somewhat, relieved that you're relatively unharmed.

gojo is the first to speak, his voice low and hoarse, as if he hasn't used it much these past few days. “you're back,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. geto stands behind him, his arms crossed as if holding back his own mixture of relief and anxiety. “how was the mission?” he asks, his voice a soft counterpoint to the tense silence.

you nod, your smile fading slightly as you respond. “the mission went well,” you say, your voice calm but carrying a hint of fatigue. geto uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing a bit, while gojo’s shoulders seem to ease from their tightness. the tension in the room begins to shift, making way for the conversation and reconciliation that have been waiting for this moment.

you nod in response, your heart feeling the weight of the moment. “yeah, we can talk,” you say, but the words feel inadequate for what you’re really craving. “but could you hug me? i feel like i’m going to lose my mind if i don’t get a hug from you right now.”

gojo doesn't need to be told twice. he immediately steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight grip, pulling you into his chest, his embrace so strong it almost lifts you off the ground. he buries his face in your hair, his breath shaky against your skin. “god, i missed you so much,” he murmurs, the words muffled against you.

geto hesitates for a moment, watching gojo's embrace. the sight of it makes his chest ache, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. but then, as if unable to resist, he steps closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his front pressed against your back. his embrace is gentler than gojo's, but no less heartfelt. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

you let out a deep sigh of relief as they wrap their arms around you. the warmth and closeness of their embrace offer a sense of comfort that you've been missing. the tension that’s built up over the past week starts to dissolve, replaced by the soothing reassurance of their presence. in this moment, the words and explanations can wait as you simply allow yourself to be held and to feel that things might start to mend.

they both hold you tight, their arms firm against you. their hold is almost possessive, as if they're afraid you're going to slip away. they don't say anything, their only response a mix of soft breathing and the occasional whispered murmur of your name.

after a few moments, gojo pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his blue eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years. his voice is hoarse when he speaks, filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. “can we sit?” you nod, a small but weary smile crossing your face. “yeah, let’s sit,” you agree, feeling the weight of the past week begin to lift just a little as you prepare to talk and hopefully begin to heal together.

they both guide you to the couch, with gojo sitting beside you while geto takes the armchair across from the two of you. as you settle into the cushions, their eyes follow your every move, as if afraid you might disappear again at any moment.

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. gojo seems a bit unsure where to start, his eyes flickering between you and geto. geto takes the initiative, his eyes staying fixed on you. “we owe you an explanation,” he says, his voice soft but filled with regret. “we understand why you’re angry at us, and we’re sorry.”

gojo fidgets beside you, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands in his lap before he forces himself to look at you again. “we were caught up in some things,” he says, his voice low and almost ashamed. “and we shouldn’t have shut you out like we did.”

geto nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “we were idiots, plain and simple,” he admits, his voice filled with remorse. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you started distancing yourself from us. seeing you leave, not knowing if you were okay or not, it was one of the worst things we’ve ever experienced.”

you listen quietly, your fingers absently playing with the hem of your skirt. their words, while sincere, do little to erase the hurt you still feel from the past week. the pain lingers, a reminder of the distance and isolation you felt.

they both notice your distant expression, the silence in the room growing heavier. gojo’s hand clenches into a fist by his side, his eyes pained as he watches you fiddle with your skirt. geto’s eyes flicker to gojo for a moment before refocusing on you. he seems to struggle for words, his expression filled with regret. “can you look at us?” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

you slowly lift your gaze, meeting their eyes. the hurt is still there, but you try to convey a sense of willingness to listen and understand. “i’m here,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “i’m listening.”

gojo's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily, to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if seeking some physical connection to ground him. his grip is gentle but firm, a plea for forgiveness and understanding in his touch.

geto's eyes flicker between your faces, his expression taut. “we’ve been careless,” he says, his voice thick with remorse. “we’ve been too lost in other things and we didn’t pay enough attention to you. and that was wrong of us.”

as geto speaks, his remorse is evident in his voice, you take a deep breath. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with the hurt you've been holding onto. “it wasn’t just about not paying enough attention. it felt like you didn’t care at all, and that really hurt.”

they both flinch at your words, their expressions crumpling with guilt. gojo’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes dark with remorse, while geto nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

“we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t care,” geto says softly, his voice filled with regret. “we were just…” he trails off, struggling to articulate the weight of their actions.

gojo steps in, his voice strained. “we were dealing with some stuff, and we didn’t handle it well. there were ongoing issues with the higher-ups, never-ending missions, and the stress of yuuta and yuji’s executions. the pressure from the school and everything else just piled up, and we let it affect how we treated you.”

the added context helps to explain their actions, but it doesn’t completely erase the pain. the burden of their responsibilities and the way they’ve neglected you come into clearer focus, but the healing process will take time and effort from all sides.

you take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the lingering hurt. “i know you were dealing with a lot,” you say quietly. “i’m dealing with the same stuff—higher-ups, never-ending missions, everything that comes with it. but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to shut me out.”

you squeeze gojo's hand gently, the firmness of your grip reflecting your resolve. “i understand that you were overwhelmed, but it didn’t excuse how you treated me. i needed you, and instead, i felt abandoned.” the words hang in the air, leaving room for reflection and a path towards healing.

they both hang their heads, their expressions marked by remorse. gojo's grip on your hand tightens, as if begging you to understand. geto’s eyes avoid yours, his guilt palpable. they both know you’re right, their previous justifications sounding hollow now.

gojo sighs heavily, his voice soft but firm. “we know we screwed up,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again. “and we're sorry. we truly are. we shouldn't have let our issues affect how we treated you. you deserve better than what we've given you.”

you take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you begin to speak. “i tried to take fewer missions because i know you both were worried. i wanted to be around more, to show you that I care. but every night... every night, when i’m in bed between you two, you turn your backs on me.”

your tears start to blur your vision, and you struggle to keep your composure. “no matter which side i turn, all i see is your backs. it felt like you were shutting me out, like I was invisible to you. i feel like i have nowhere to go, and feel more alone.”

the emotion in your voice is raw, and the tears that spill down your cheeks only deepen the weight of what you’re expressing. the room fills with the sound of your quiet sobs, adding a poignant layer to the shared moment of vulnerability.

their eyes widen as you continue, their expressions turning pained as you lay bare the depths of your hurt. gojo's grip on your hand turns almost crushing as he listens to your words, his heart clenching as he hears the anguish in your voice.

geto's face is pale, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the sight of your tears a physical manifestation of the pain they've caused. gojo's voice is rough, his eyes fixed on yours. “we didn’t think you felt that way,” he says, his voice hoarse. “we’re sorry. we were idiots.”

gojo’s other hand reaches up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away some of your tears. “please don’t cry,” he mumbles, his voice cracking as he watches you cry. geto sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on your tear-stained face. “we’ll fix this,” he promises, his voice filled with resolve.

gojo nods, his eyes soft as they roam over your face. “please, just let us make it up to you,” he says quietly, his hand still holding your cheek.

you take a shuddering breath, your voice wavering but firm. “you know how it was at home before i came to jujutsu high. i was always walking on eggshells every day. i don’t want to feel that way with you two. i love you both so much, and it hurts to feel like i’m just an afterthought.” the weight of your words hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of your vulnerability and the deep emotional connection you share.

you look at them with a mix of sadness and fear, your voice trembling. “and i feel so scared because i’ve started to think that maybe I should leave. i don’t want to, but the way things have been... it makes me wonder if staying is just going to hurt more.” the admission is heavy, your fear of leaving mingling with the pain of feeling disconnected. It’s a vulnerable moment, revealing the depth of your uncertainty and the impact their actions have had on you.

their eyes widen at your words, their expressions changing from guilt to fear. gojo’s hand tightens on your cheek, his eyes turning desperate, while geto’s hands clench into fists in his lap. gojo’s voice is strained, his eyes searching yours. “please don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, his tone pleading. “please don’t even think about leaving.”

geto scoots to the edge of the armchair, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “you don’t have to go. we can fix this, just stay.”

they know, from the moment you first got met each other and you told them they were going to go down in history as the world’s biggest idiots instead of swoon over them, that you’re not the type of person to be a pushover. they’ve always admired how you refuse to let anyone disrespect you or treat you as less than you deserve. from the beginning, they understood that once someone starts treating you badly, you’re ready to leave—no matter how much you love them—because your self-respect has always been paramount.

and now, as you stand before them, telling them that if leaving is what it takes to keep yourself at peace, you’ll take that chance and face the consequences, they can feel the weight of that truth. their admiration for your strength has always been part of what they love about you, but now that very strength threatens to take you away from them.

the fear in their eyes deepens, a reflection of the realization that they’ve pushed you to the edge, and they know you won’t hesitate to step away if it means preserving your sense of self-worth.

they sit in stunned silence for a few moments, the weight of your words sinking in. they know you well enough to know that when you say you'll leave, you'll follow through. the thought of losing you, of losing what they have, is too painful to bear.

geto breaks the silence first, his voice soft but filled with an edge of desperation. “you don’t have to leave. we can fix this.” gojo nods frantically, his hand on your cheek holding you more firmly now. “please, don’t talk about leaving,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room as they hold onto you, their desperation clear. “i did think about leaving,” you admit, your voice is soft but steady. “but it was just for a second because i can’t bear the thought of living without you two. i love you both too much, and that’s why i’m here, willing to talk.”

their grip on you tightens slightly, a mix of relief and guilt washing over their faces. geto’s shoulders relax a little, and gojo’s eyes soften as he hears your words. “i don’t want to lose you,” you continue, “but i need to know that things are going to change. i need to feel like i matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

they both nod slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. their hands remain firmly on you, desperate to maintain whatever connection they still have with you.

gojo’s eyes are filled with remorse, his voice soft. “you matter to us,” he says quietly, “so much more than you ever realize. we’ve been idiots. we took you for granted, and we didn’t give you the attention and care you deserve. that ends now.”

geto nods, his expression taut. “we’ll do better,” he says firmly, his voice filled with determination.

they both hold onto you tightly, as if trying to convey the depth of their feelings through touch alone. gojo’s eyes are fixed on yours, his expression filled with remorse. “we’ve been so focused on our own problems that we neglected you,” he mutters, his voice soft. “that won’t happen again. we swear it.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand reaching out to hold your other cheek softly. “we were stupid,” he says bluntly. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you were almost gone.”

you intertwine your hands with theirs, holding onto them firmly as you look into their eyes. “i’m not going to apologize for how i acted this past week,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “i was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, to make you feel the effects of your actions. but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you both so much.”

they both nod, their eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. they know you're right, that you don't owe them any apologies. they have hurt you, and they know it's up to them to make amends.

gojo speaks first, his voice soft but firm. “we don’t expect you to apologize,” he says, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. “we deserve what we got. you had every right to react the way you did.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we were selfish, careless,” he murmurs. “we’re sorry.” you smile softly at them, feeling the weight of their remorse in the way they hold onto you. “i don’t mind you prioritizing your work,” you say gently, your fingers tightening around theirs. “you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerers, and people rely on you. it’s your responsibility, and i understand that. i just don’t want you to turn your backs on me again.”

their expressions reflect the truth of your words. they know the demands of their profession, and they know they'll always be expected to prioritize their work. but they also know they messed up by neglecting you in the process.

gojo’s eyes stay fixed on yours, his voice low. “we won’t let that happen again,” he promises, his hand gently squeezing your cheek. “we’re going to find a way to balance our responsibilities and give you the attention you deserve.”

you lean your side against gojo's chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his body. with your hands still intertwined with theirs on your lap, you look up at them, your voice gentle but firm. “please, just talk to me when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed or anything,” you ask, your eyes searching theirs for understanding. “i’m here for you, and i want to help. but i can’t if you shut me out.”

gojo wraps his arm around you as you lean against him, his eyes softening as he listens to your words. geto nods in agreement, his grip on your hand gentle but firm.

gojo’s voice is soft, filled with a hint of guilt. “we know,” he says quietly. “we were wrong to shut you out. we promise we’ll communicate better from now on.” geto’s expression is taut but sincere. “we’ll talk to you when we’re struggling, and we’ll make sure you’re still a priority.”

you smile softly at them, a sense of relief washing over you as you feel the sincerity in their words. “thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “thank you for trying to sort things out instead of just letting it be.”

they both look at you, their eyes filled with a mix of guilt and love. gojo’s arm tightens around you, holding you closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your hand in his. gojo nods, his expression firm. “you’re too important to us to let things fall apart like this.”

geto's voice is soft but determined. “we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right again.”

they sit with you in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the air filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken emotions. gojo's hold on you remains firm, his broad chest firm and warm against your side, while geto's hand gently intertwines your fingers with his.

finally, gojo speaks, his voice soft. “can you promise us something?”

you hum softly in response, your curiosity piqued by gojo’s gentle tone. you glance up at him, waiting for what he has to say, still feeling the warmth of their touch grounding you.

gojo's eyes meet yours, his gaze unusually serious. “promise us that you won’t shut us out either,” he says quietly. geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we want to know when you’re not okay,” he adds, his voice firm but gentle. “we don’t want a repeat of this week. we don’t want you to feel like you have nowhere to go.”

you nod softly, feeling the sincerity in their words. “okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. the promise settles between you all, a silent understanding that things will be different moving forward. the weight of the past week begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewed connection.

they both nod at your response, a visible relief washed over them. gojo's grip on you tightens again, his arm holding you even closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your fingers in his.

they both watch you for a few moments, their gazes filled with a mixture of love and newfound determination. they can feel the shift in the air between you, and finally, gojo speaks again, his voice quiet.

“can we ask you something?”

gojo smiles faintly, the sight of your smile melting away some of the tension in his own face. he glances at geto, who nods slightly, before returning his attention to you. “can we sleep with you tonight?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere. “we miss you.”

you playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “of course,” you say softly, “i miss you too.”

they both exhale a sigh of relief, their expressions relaxing instantly. gojo’s arm squeezes you again, his body pressing against you firmly. geto’s grip on your fingers tightens slightly as his eyes linger on your face.

gojo’s voice is low, the relief clear in every syllable. “thank god,” he mutters, his voice heavy but filled with something soft and sincere.

geto nods slightly, his eyes meeting gojo’s for a moment before he turns his gaze back to you. “we missed holding you,” he says quietly, his voice equally as sincere. you look at geto, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. geto’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the lingering guilt. “come here,” you say softly. when you tell him to come closer, he moves to kneel between your legs, his expression still marked by regret.

as you slip his long hair behind his ear, your touch is gentle and reassuring. “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “i know you care deeply, and that’s why this hurts. but you’re not alone in this.”

geto's shoulders slump at your words, the weight of his guilt visibly lessening. his eyes stay fixed on yours, the regret in them slowly being replaced by a soft vulnerability.

he leans into your touch, his head tilting slightly involuntarily at the touch of your fingers to his hair. “i know,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with guilt. “i just wish i hadn't let it get this bad.” geto’s voice is soft, the regret and guilt audible in it. “i just… i just can’t forgive myself for causing you pain,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

you give him a reassuring smile, your voice gentle. “i’m not in pain anymore, so you can stop feeling guilty,” you say softly. “we’ve talked things out, and we’re moving forward. it’s okay to let go of that guilt now. we’re okay.”

geto’s eyes search yours, the guilt still visible but diminishing by the second. he nods slowly, his expression taut but hopeful. he speaks softly, his voice still laced slightly with regret. “i know. but i just… it’s hard to shake this feeling, you know? it’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen.”

you lean down and gently kiss his chest, then move to his neck and jaw, your touch tender and soothing. each kiss is a silent reassurance, conveying that you're okay now and that you're not mad at him anymore. your actions are meant to comfort and ease the lingering regret he feels, showing him through your touch that things are healing.

his breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his chest, his body tensing for a brief moment before melting into your touch. each press of your lips sends waves of comfort through him, the knot in his chest loosening with every gentle kiss.

he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unyielding. when your lips reach his jaw, he tilts his head to give you better access, his eyes fluttering shut. you pull away slightly, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. you look into his eyes with a soft, reassuring gaze. “don’t feel guilty anymore,” you say gently. “we’re okay. let go of that weight you’re carrying. we’re moving forward together.”

his eyes open slowly, meeting yours. the guilt in his eyes has lessened even more, replaced by a deep vulnerability and newfound trust. he nods slowly, his hands gently pulling you even closer to him.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sincere. “i’m trying, i promise,” he murmurs. “i’m trying to let it go. it’s just… it’s just hard, sometimes.”

“shut up, stop it,” you softly murmur. you gently move your hands from his shoulders to his neck, guiding him closer. “come here,” you whisper softly, pulling him towards you until your lips touch his.

he smiles faintly at your soft command, his body willingly moved closer to yours. he doesn’t protest when you gently pull him closer, his eyes closing instinctively as your lips meet his.

the kiss starts slow and hesitant, his body tense against yours as if he’s expecting you to pull away at any second. but gradually, his lips soften, the tension in his body melting away as he surrenders to the tender connection. as geto continues to lean towards you, your back gently presses against gojo’s firm chest. gojo's arms instinctively wrap around you from behind, his presence a comforting anchor as you and geto share a tender kiss. the closeness between all three of you creates a cocoon of warmth and reassurance.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

i don't know if you are taking requests but can we get an angst/fluff reader with drew, reader and drew are having a lazy day when reader passes out from having an ovarian cysts ruptured? drew rushes her to hospital.

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✯ pairing:

bf!drew starkey x fem!reader

✯ warnings:

mentions of ovarian cysts, reproductive issues, surgery, internal bleeding, pain, etc.

✯ a/n:

this request means so much to me as a girlie with pcos and endometriosis whose has many of these surgeries. thank you for requesting, love. hope you enjoy babe!

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The bedroom is dimly lit, the soft glow from the nightstand lamp casting a warm haze over the ivory sheets that cover your shared bed. Drew lies beside you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the skin of your hip. A random romcom plays in the background, but neither of you are paying attention. It’s just one of those nights where you're focused in solely on lying in his arms; nothing else able to penetrate the warmth within your bubble. Usually you would be ogling the gorgeous tan skin than lines his muscular arms, but tonight, you're not quite feeling like yourself. He seems to pick up on your energy as he asks you a question.

“You okay, baby?”

Drew’s voice is thick with sleep, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

You shift slightly against the pillows, wincing as a dull ache blooms low in your abdomen.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Just kinda crampy, not feeling like myself.”

It’s nothing unusual—you’ve had cysts before. They’re painful, but manageable. You figure if you just ignore it, you’ll be fine.

But then, out of nowhere, a white-hot, searing pain tears through your lower stomach, sharp and agonizing, like something has exploded inside you or barbed wire has wrapped itself around your ovaries. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t speak. It feels like a knife twisting deep in your pelvis, sending pulsing waves of pain outward. Your legs tremble, nausea slamming into you like a tidal wave. You think for a split second that you might vomit on his chest and you fight to sit up before you have to live through the mortification of that. A strangled gasp escapes your lips as your body curls in on itself instinctively in an attempt to sit up.

Drew sits up instantly in sync with you.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

His hands are on you in an instant, one cradling your cheek, as he jumps over the side of the bed to look into your face. The other hand pressing lightly against your stomach like he can somehow take the pain away. You can’t even respond. Your vision blurs as a fresh wave of pain wracks through you, so intense it steals your breath. Cold sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel yourself shaking. Something is fucking wrong.

“Baby?”

His voice is urgent now, laced with panic. He brushes your hair back from your damp forehead, tucking the strands behind your ear as he studies your face.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on?”

He asks urgently, more concern present in his voice than you've ever heard from him. He's bordering hysteria but remaining strong in the face of whatever this is. You suck in a shallow breath, fingers clutching his wrist like a lifeline.

“I—I don't know, something is wrong.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, choked by the agony gripping your body. It feels like your throbbing and burning alive at the same time.

His face pales.

“Okay. Okay. We’re going to the hospital.”

He replies. You try to shake your head, even as another searing, burning pain radiates through your stomach, stealing your breath.

“Just—just give me a minute—”

“No.”

His tone leaves no room for argument. He’s already moving, pushing the blankets off you, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie in record time. Then he’s back at your side, easing you up and into his arms bridal style as carefully as he can. The shift makes you whimper, and Drew curses under his breath.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry.”

His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, his hand smoothing over your hair as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“We gotta go, though. I got you.”

Getting to the hospital is excruciating. Every bump in the road sends fresh spikes of pain through your abdomen, making you bite back cries. Drew’s hand never leaves yours, his grip firm but gentle, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles over your knuckles. As soon as you get there, he practically carries you inside, his voice urgent as he tells the nurse what’s happening. You’re rushed back within minutes, and Drew is right there beside you, his free hand brushing your hair back from your clammy forehead as the doctors work around you.

“They’re going to take care of you, baby”

He whispers, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I promise.”

The doctors confirm what you already know—a ruptured cyst, significant internal bleeding. You need emergency surgery. Drew never lets go of your hand, even when they prep you for the OR.

“I’m scared."

You admit, your voice small, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Drew catches them with his thumb, leaning in to press the softest kiss to your forehead.

“I know, baby. But, you’re strong. You’re gonna be okay.”

His blue eyes are glassy with worry, his jaw tight, but he kisses you again, this time on your lips, lingering like he wishes he could take your pain away.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up. I swear.”

And he is.

When you finally open your eyes after surgery, groggy and in significant pain, your stomach feeling like its been torn open and ripped to shreds, the first thing you see is Drew slumped in the chair beside you, his fingers still curled around yours, his head resting against the mattress. He hasn’t let go. Not even for a second. You give his hand a weak squeeze, and his eyes flutter open immediately. Relief washes over his face as he leans in, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“There you are, sweet girl.”

He breathes, smiling despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry, baby.”

You mumble, your voice hoarse from the breathing tube they placed down your throat during surgery. He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t be. Just… don’t do it again, okay? No more medical emergencies in the middle of the night.”

He says with no bite and his signature smirk.

You manage a small, tired smile.

“I’ll try.”

You whisper.

Drew presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“I love you, precious angel. couldn't do life without you, you hear me?"

He asks.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter.

“I hear you, ditto; I love you too.”

And even though you’re in a hospital bed, exhausted and in pain, you’ve never felt safer in your entire life. Because he is safety and warmth; he is the sacred place.

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[newtkive]

practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

[kitkat13001]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜

>> touya todoroki x reader

>> hero au, starts sad ends cute, established relationship, kinda cheesy touya but wtv 😋

it’s depressing, sitting here in the middle of your apartment all by yourself. if you were with the others, you would be having the time of your life right now. himiko and jin had promised to a throw a legendary christmas party this year. they’d even convinced tenko to go, which was a feat next to impossible. 

but you’re not at the party. you’re sitting here, on the couch in front of the christmas tree, all by yourself in the middle of the apartment. alone. 

you’ve been nursing a cup of hot chocolate to try and fill the empty space inside you, void of warmth, but it’s been cold for a while now. 

there’s christmas music playing in the background on the radio, and like it can read your mind, the infamous ‘all i want for christmas is you’ comes on. the singing voices are almost mocking you, their cheeriness the exact opposite of the way you feel. 

you know you should at least be trying to have some fun. you’ve got messages from all your friends sending pictures of the party, checking in on you, telling you it’s not too late to come over. you still can’t make yourself get up from this couch, and with your attitude right now, its probably best you stay home anyway. 

touya was out on some mission or another. you’d pleaded with endeavor to let him stay, but no dice. it was last minute and he needed the backup. leave it to enji to make his son work on christmas eve. 

you flick the radio off irritatedly, the room going silent. 

you sigh, leaning back into the couch, and turn on the tv, just for white noise. the grinch is playing faintly, but your eyes are closed. 

it’s eight pm. and you’re tired. you don’t remember the last time you were tired at eight pm. 

eventually you drift off in your misery, floating between sleep and consciousness. 

touya rolls his eyes at the obnoxiously loud christmas music coming from down the hall. damn rowdy neighbors. 

his key jingles in the door and it creaks loudly as he cracks it open. touya winces, hoping the noise won’t notify you. 

he’s surprised to find your sleeping form curled on the couch, a cold chocolate on the coffee table and a blanket draped over you haphazardly. 

he sets his things down, the dull thud of his bag hitting the ground and the rustle of his coat being put on the hook. 

touya hums softly, the song from the car radio stuck in his head. 

“i’ll be home for christmas,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket up to cover your whole body. “you can plan on me.”

he sinks onto the couch, maneuvering so your head is resting in his lap. 

“please have snow,” he sings softly, stroking your hair. “and mistletoe.”

he eyes the living room, all the decorations you had put up while he was gone. trying to cheer yourself up, probably. the thought made touya’s heart squeeze.

“and presents by the tree.”

his gaze falls on the small array of presents underneath the christmas tree. there weren’t many, given that it was just you and him in the small apartment, but just the idea of wanting to give each other something was more than enough for touya. 

“i’ll be home for christmas,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “if only in my dreams.”

you give a sleepy mumble and crack one eye open with a lopsided grin.

“you’re not santa claus.”

he chuckles. “no, but i figured this was better.”

you cling to him, nuzzling your head into his torso. your vice grip on him doesn’t lighten. 

“you’re home.”

“yeah, doll. i’m home.”

divider by @/saradika-graphics — more holiday fluff, for touya this time 😋 hope you like. if you want to submit a holiday request, try to get them in this week please! 🩷🩷 - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[moonstruckme]

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it. 

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups. 

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.” 

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage. 

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.” 

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach. 

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you. 

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.” 

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy. 

“I know,” you say. 

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary. 

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble. 

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.” 

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?” 

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.” 

[moodymelanist]

If you’re still looking for short nessian prompts could you do Nesta and Cassian in a long distance relationship having a standing weekly video call but one of them is unusually late because they’re going to surprise the other in person

happy @nestaarcheronweek everyone! I’ve been struggling with writing block and life has been hectic af but considering it’s my event I thought I’d do a little something haha. we’ll see if I do more 👀

Nesta took a deep breath as she stood outside Cassian’s door, nervous despite the fact that she knew her boyfriend would be thrilled to see her.

He still made her nervous despite the almost two years they’d been together — the good kind, usually. They’d met by chance at one of those graduate school mixers that grad students only came to for the food, and Nesta would never stop being grateful to Gwyn demanding that she make an appearance.

“You need to get out of your law school bubble, Nesta,” Gwyn had told her with all the haughtiness a psych masters’ student could muster. “Plus, there’s going to be catering.”

Nesta had bumped into Cassian while waiting to get some more samosas, and the rest was history.

Considering he was in a history program, Cassian made that joke far too often, but Nesta didn’t mind. She’d just roll her eyes and shut him up with a kiss, and then neither of them minded too much after that anyway.

When her boyfriend had gotten the opportunity to study abroad and get a more hands-on semester, Nesta had threatened to break up with him if he didn’t apply. Cassian had been worried about leaving her abroad while he went off to Europe — something about how she’d manage to feed herself properly without his cooking — but they both knew this opportunity was too good to pass up. So Cassian had packed his bags, Nesta had driven him to Dulles and kissed him senseless, and they’d made do with phone calls and care packages and even a few honest to God love letters.

Nesta absolutely didn’t have them saved in her nightstand to pull out before bed. She did not.

Still, there had only been so much a woman could take of missing the love of her life before she had to take action. So Nesta had made sure her passport was renewed, packed her bags, and gotten her ridiculously rich brother-in-law to pay for her ticket.

Rhys had seemed more excited about the trip than Nesta was, which would normally make Nesta suspicious if not for how relieved he’d seemed that Cassian would stop complaining about how much he missed her to anyone who’d listen. Nesta had been too happy to save several hundred dollars to even be offended on Cassian’s behalf.

So she’d braved a flight across the Atlantic, managed to navigate her way through the airport, and finally found herself outside Cassian’s door. She’d timed it just right with his schedule that she knew he’d be just settling in to call her in the States, but little did he know that he’d be getting the real thing momentarily.

Sure enough, Nesta’s phone started vibrating in her jacket pocket within the next minute, and she cursed quietly as she fumbled to get it out of her pocket. Cassian’s face appearing on her screen made her gaze turn a little soft before she remembered she had to actually answer the phone, and she moved a little further down the hallway so he hopefully wouldn’t hear her through the door.

“Hello?” Nesta said, trying to speak quietly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cassian said back. Just the sound of his voice made every thought in her head go blissfully quiet, and she smiled to herself knowing she would hear it for real in a few minutes. “How’s your day going? Excited for the weekend?”

“It’s okay,” she told him truthfully. “Just kinda long. I’m ready to take a nice nap, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed. Something shifted in the background and she pictured him laid out on the couch the way he always did at her place. “A nap with you sounds pretty nice right now.”

“I know,” she replied. She took a deep breath and started walking back toward his door, hoping that his reaction to seeing her would be good. “Hey, did you check your mail today?”

“No, why?” he asked. He sounded like he was sitting up now, and she smiled to herself knowing they were that much closer to seeing each other. “You send me something?”

“Maybe,” she answered playfully. “You should go find out.”

Cassian laughed, the sound of it spreading something warm through her chest. “Yeah, okay, twist my arm. I’ll go look now.”

Nesta waited patiently for him to put on some shoes, and then she could hear him unlocking his door and suddenly, there he was. He looked as handsome as ever, half his curls pulled up away from his face in a loose bun, and dressed in a dark gray shirt and black shorts.

God, he was hot. Nesta half hoped he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Cassian did a double take as he realized someone was standing in front of his door, his eyes widening in complete shock as he realized it was Nesta standing there. “Nesta?”

“Hi,” Nesta said, hanging up their call now that they were finally face to face. He was so adorable; she wanted to kiss that gobsmacked expression right off him. “Hope it’s okay that I dropped by.”

“Holy shit,” he said back. He surged forward and gathered her in his arms, and she melted immediately into the warmth of his body. She’d missed this. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as deeply as she could manage. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his soft curls with a happy sigh. “I missed you.”

“Believe me, I missed you more,” he replied. He leaned back so he could press kisses to her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, making her laugh until he finally kissed her properly. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Let me in and I’ll make you believe it,” she answered, her grip on his hair turning decidedly more wicked.

It turned out Cassian was wearing underwear after all, but Nesta made sure it wasn’t for much longer.

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited | @pham-tastical

[nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads]

ʀɪɢɢᴇᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ

Caleb thought he had failed you once by letting you die. What he didn't know was that he was destined to fail you again by dying himself.

Contains: GN!Reader, angst no comfort (reader from his universe dies and he kinda breaks down at the sight of them from another universe), Caleb's head is "[Name] [Name] [Name]" 24h, reader is not MC. Caleb is part of the Spider Society so if you haven't watched Across the spiderverse it will be a tiny bit confusing. Let me know if I'm forgetting anything!

A/N: Based on this post of mine, though it's a little different from the original idea. I read this a couple times but without obsessing too much over it, there might be mistakes. Still, I'm very satisfied considering I haven't posted while felling so chill in a while!

Caleb wasn't a good Spider-Man.

Deep down he had always known, even before learning of the existence of others like him, before seeing with his own eyes what a Spider-person actually acted like.

The first time he had questioned his beliefs was when he got his powers.

After the panic subsided he had started wondering about all the things he could do with such strength, reflexes and agility. All the things he could do for you, his everything. If anyone dared to bother you, they wouldn’t have been a problem for long; if you needed anything from the other side of town, he could’ve gotten it in a few minutes of swinging between buildings.

If you ever found yourself in danger, he would’ve been there to save you. Protect you.

Was that the correct way to act with such gift?

Even with his newfound responsibilities, all of his thoughts kept revolving around you. You, your happiness, your safety, your smile… How your touch warmed his skin like a ray of sun breaking through the clouds, or how your eyes always managed to ground him and banish the storm of thoughts brewing in his head. How the sharp jabs of his spider-sense faded into a dull buzzing in the background at the sound of your otherworldly voice.

You were his priority, always had been. Acquiring his powers hadn’t changed that.

Instead, he had just discovered a new tool to ensure your well being.

Then it became complicated, factors he hadn’t included in his calculation begun sprouting like weeds. The hiding, the lying, the violence and the corruption of people who had gone mad with of power, these things haunted him like grim reapers looking for his life. For yours.

But he would’ve never let them touch you.

Caleb had fought tooth and nail to keep you out of his second life and maintain your relationship with his first stable. He soothed your worries whenever a bruise showed up on his skin, shushed your questions the second you inched a little too close to the truth — or even just remotely hinted at it really.

He had gone up against these villains just for you, lest you got caught in the crossfire. For you, you, you you just you.

Eventually he had ended up swinging in to rescue innocent bystanders too — like any decent person, really — and that solidified his reputation: Spider-Man, the selfless vigilante, the hero of the people, blah blah blah... All he could think about was the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his masked self, he revelled in the admiration.

Life was good.

Until one day you had wreaked more havoc than any other enemy of his ever did.

The reassuring smiles and light-heated words he had fed you to avert your wandering imagination crawled out in the form of caustic anger and ugly sobs. He had been stupid enough to assume you would’ve trusted him blindly, not worrying about a thing just because he had told you so, but in truth your feelings had festered for months in the shadows.

You hated his lies, his habit of not taking you seriously, his lack of care for your emotions. You cried and spat all those words in his face as they hit him like a blizzard, a cold shower that snapped his eyes wide open.

Caleb had questioned himself a second time.

Had he been a good hero so far, if he couldn’t even prevent you from hurting? If he had been the one to wound you so deeply?

Was he a hero to begin with?

The sound of his apartment door clicking open had slapped him out of his brooding and the truth buried so deep for so long escaped his mouth in a simple sentence. “I’m Spider-Man”.

Anything to keep you close, to stop you from crossing that threshold and never look back again, even confess a dangerous secret like an everyday truth.

You knew, but that was okay. He would’ve made sure it didn’t affect your life any further, not in a negative way at least. He was going to protect you like always and forever.

If only had Caleb realised that was just the calm before the storm, the disaster, the point of no return. That after being lulled into the gentle peace of a life with you, you would’ve been ripped away from his arms the moment his eyes drooped. If only had Caleb known he had been set up for failure the very day he was born— No, the day the Big Bang exploded and gave life to his world.

…Your eyes were so kind, even as you died.

You had looked up at him with enough love to keep you both alive for a thousand lifetimes, if only humans were able to feed off of it. Your hand left a red stain behind as it trailed down his flooded cheeks and for a moment Caleb considered never washing again; he needed all the traces of you he could get, the proof that you had been there in his life and were not just a fever dream, a figment of his imagination— every shard of his crumbling mind shouted the same thing, unfazed by the twisted nature of its own thoughts: hold them close. Forever. Don’t let go. Never let go. nonononono—

Caleb finally admitted it, that night. Embraced the thought wholly: he wasn’t a good Spider-Man.

Spider-Man would’ve given a damn about the world all around, about the destruction and the innocents to rescue. Spider-Man wouldn’t have thought of a hundred different ways to make the culprit of this sin suffer as they died by his hand, he wouldn’t have wished for the whole damn universe to fall apart along with him, for all life to cease its existence along with yours.

Caleb wasn’t a hero. He was your protector and he had failed.

Green Goblin grunted as his face kissed the asphalt with a violent thud,

The man thrashed, his gloved hands clawing at the filaments wrapped snug around his limbs, but he was no match for them; he was ensnared, wounded, exhausted from dealing with two Spideys at once.

Eventually, he gave up.

Caleb landed beside the slumped figure, his impromptu companion following in tow. He fiddled with his society watch without even bothering to take off his mask, or explain to the poor spider-person by his side what the heck had just happened.

He was having such a bad day, worse than the others, The kind of bad day that made him wonder why he was still doing this, then made him remember your words from that night: “don’t stop doing good just because of me”. And eventually, made him suffer from bringing up the thought altogether.

He couldn’t wait to leave…

“Hey! You! You who look like me!” The fellow Spidey strutted up to him, the lenses of their mask wide as they took in him, then the 2099 technology on his wrist. “It’s not very polite to ignore a fellow friendly neighbourhood spider— holy shoot, what is that??”

Caleb sighed. The portal to HQ finally opened. He dug his fingers in the webbing around Green Goblin and tossed him inside without batting an eye.

“And what is that?!”

God, he just wanted to go back home and crash in his bed; he could feel an headache slither around his brain. The sleepless nights were finally catching up to him, and so were the… Hallucinations. The more this person spoke, the more they sounded like you, the more he needed to get out—

Just as he was about to step into the portal himself, the masked figure sprouted in his way like stubborn weed.

They had their back turned to him as they poked their hand inside the portal. “Wow, it tickles… Like I’m being broken up into smaller particles. And yes, it happened to me already, haha. You’d be surprised!”

“You—”

“No, wait, I know. Multiverse, right?” They snapped their fingers and chuckled happily, spinning to face him. “I knew it, it’s not just a theory! You opened the portal with that watch, right? Can I see it?”

Caleb’s jaw clenched. Your voice was so impossibly persistent, realistic to a fault. He knew there were other you’s all over the multiverse, but there was no way in hell you had been caught in the same trap as him and the others.

Or so he hoped. The thought alone made his breath falter and his chest hurt.

“No.” He cut the spider-person short, taking a step to surpass them and get to the portal. “It’s better if you don’t know, trust me Pips—”

Shit.

His whole body stiffened for a hot second, memories of his time with you gnawing at the bars of their cages as they desperately longed to come back to the front of his mind. The sound of your voice — or rather the person’s…? — Still rang in his skull hauntingly, all of his attention possessed once more by you you you—

“Pips? Pipsqueak?” You… No, the person sounded perplexed. He saw them tilt their head in his peripheral vision before they threw their hands up with a groan. “Ugh! Not you too! My best friend already calls me that. I could lift him with a finger- well, he doesn’t know that obviously, but he insists! ‘Pipsqueak this’, ‘Pipsqueak that’! So annoying.”

…No.

“Wait… your best friend?” Caleb frowned under his mask, his head slow as it swivelled towards them. “Who’s your best friend?”

“Really? I keep my identity secret for a reason.” They snorted. “I can’t tell you, but… We could reveal ourselves to each other. Promise I won’t tell a soul! If you let me take a look at that watch, that is…”

The last few words flew over his head. The only thing he could focus on was the sweet, cheeky chuckle you used to throw at him whenever you did something mischievous.

Did Caleb want to see your face, underneath that mask? God, yes. God, no. He had barely managed to pick up the pieces after his last glance to your glossy eyes, he wasn’t sure he had the strength or will to gather them once more.

He had seen you, the you’s out there. But never in person, never up close, where he would’ve been able to see all the tiny details that didn’t make you you. Where he would’ve sensed only a trace of your typical scent in someone else’s perfume, or heard faint whispers of you in a stranger’s voice.

This one sounded so real, though. So you that he almost deluded himself that at least another [Name] in the Multiverse was as perfect as his own.

…Who was he kidding? You were perfect in every dimension, in every time and in every space.

You being you was enough and the little things that made you unique in each world only added to your beauty. None of them was you, yet each of them was so unapologetically you. He never blamed the other versions of himself for falling for the same trap, it was a rigged game, a cruel joke of fate, something as unavoidable as becoming Spider-Man.

Well, for him at least. He had yet to meet another Spider-Caleb. For the sake of your life, he fervently hoped he was the only one in the whole billion of worlds out there.

Still, Spider-Man or not Spider-Man…

Falling for you was his canon event.

“Uh… You good?”

Caleb blinked. The vision of you he had conjured turned into a masked person. A masked version of you.

He had come to terms with the fact you were in there, but that didn’t make it any easier on his anguished, bleeding heart. The need to see you and the need to run from his one duty and failure pulled at the strings of his soul in a ruthless tug of war.

Until they snapped.

“…Let’s do it.”

Caleb heard a steady, alien voice break the silence before his mind had even processed the thought of opening his mouth. He was slipping away from his body, owner no more of his gloved fingers as they moved above his head and grasped the fabric of the mask.

You did the same, but frantically held up your hand. “Wait! On three!”

Oh, you.

“One.”

“Caleb?”

“Two…”

“Yeah, Pips?”

You grinned like a Cheshire cat and patted his head.

“You’re so lucky I love you. With all the stunts you pull…”

His heart exploded like a newborn star. And he smiled.

“I know, [Name]. I’m the luckiest man in all of existence.”

“Three!”

Fabric rustled as the masks slipped off of your faces.

And everything in Caleb’s vision melted into a blur of spilt watercolours.

Everything but you.

“No way!” You gasped. “Caleb?! Is that you??”

You pointed a finger at him, your eyes comically large, wide enough that he could see the planets, the galaxies, the tethers that kept together countless universes. He tried to suck in a breath, but his throat was tied into an infinitely tight knot, a collapsing star as it buckled under its own gravity and became impossibly dense.

There was a gaping, ever-expanding black hole inside of him, a voracious void that would’ve never been filled, not even if it devoured all of the multiverse.

Somehow the sight of you only made him yearn more.

The oozing, black wound in his chest widened.

“Hey, why are you crying?” You frowned. Genuinely concerned. Real. “Did I do something?”

Sweet, innocent [Name]. You had no faults, if not being born.

That was enough for fate to deem you unworthy of a normal, boring life, to be chosen as sacrificial lamb and forced to carry an unspeakable burden on your weary shoulders. He could see the signs, now that the truth was out, the marks this life had left on you: the well-concealed exhaustion, the faded scratches marring your skin, the self-awareness of someone who had seen so much and had yet to see much worse.

Your Caleb was still alive, after all…

As much as he wished to lie to himself, some things were destined to happen ever since before the birth of reality.

The realisation filled his head with cotton.

You were going to lose him. He was going to hurt you again.

Caleb had failed you twice and this time he felt more helpless than the other. You were going to survive and live with the same excruciating pain he had been enduring for months, the same black hole that had swallowed all the light of the world and rendered him utterly hopeless.

He had done this to you. Just by existing.

His knees buckled as he let himself drop to the ground, your startled shout distant and muffled, your touch on his shoulder colder than a corpse’s.

Caleb was no Spider-Man at all, but was there a real Spider-Man to begin with, if they were all so fine with their lovers dying for the sake of the greater good?

Maybe a real Spider-Man was real by not being selfish. By caring about the greater good more than a single person.

That confirmed it one last time.

Caleb wasn't a good Spider-Man.

[lilacmingi]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Hufflepuff!Yunho x Hufflepuff!fem reader

Word count: 4,968

Note: Seems kinda silly sharing this one considering its March lol but when I was writing these Hogwarts AU imagines, they were being posted around November/December 2022 and I felt bad for not having anything festive written so I made this one take place around Christmastime to add some festive flair. Hopefully you guys can still enjoy it, even in March haha

"You need to dress warmly, Y/n. It's getting colder these days." Yunho tugged your scarf around your neck, making sure you were all bundled up.

You merely chuckled, amused at how much he cares for you.

"I'll be fine." You assured him.

"We have to walk all the way to the greenhouse for herbology. You should stay warm."

You gave him a reluctant smile, allowing him to adjust your scarf to where it would cover your chin.

"Okay." He gave a small nod of approval before linking arms with you. "Let's go. Don't wanna be late."

Leaving the warm corridors of the school, you stepped out into the chilly air. It was nearing the end of autumn and would soon be winter, though based on the bitter temperature outside it felt like the season had already arrived. You and your fellow housemate trekked across the school grounds, stepping over leaves that had long fallen off the trees, their color now a dull brown. The holidays were just around the corner and Hogwarts had rolled out the Christmas decorations, decking the entire school out in holiday cheer, the colorful array of twinkling ornaments and other baubles giving the castle a cozy feel. The Great Hall was the most beautiful with large Christmas trees throughout the room, holly and ribbons hanging along the ceiling, all topped off with white snow falling from above, the magical icy clusters not feeling cold at all.

The greenhouse came into view, you and Yunho hurrying over desperate to get inside and out of the chilly air.

"Good afternoon." Professor Sprout greeted you with her usual warm smile, her jovial personality shining through as always.

"Afternoon." You greeted, making your way further into the greenhouse, taking your place at the long table that stretched along the length of the greenhouse.

You and Yunho began unpacking your supplies, your fingers brushing against his by accident.

"Your hands are freezing." He commented, grabbing them with his larger ones.

A faint heat creeped onto your cheeks as he squeezed your icy palms between his, warming them a little. You were so focused on him, you didn't notice the other students filing in the greenhouse, preparing for class.

"Alright. Now that everyone's here let's get started." Professor Sprout spoke up, causing Yunho to release your hands.

You exchanged sheepish glances before the both of you turned your eyes away out of embarrassment.

"Since Christmas is approaching, I thought it would be fit for us to study mistletoe. As you all know, this parasitic plant is used for decoration, but you can also use it for antidotes for the forgetfulness potion and common poisons."

"Ha. Mistletoe." You chuckled softly. "How festive."

Professor Sprout proceeded to explain more facts about the plant, allowing everyone to examine the white berries on the herbage, cutting them open and grinding them for potions.

The greenhouse, though slightly warmer than the chilly outdoor air, didn't offer much heat for your cold fingertips. Suddenly you missed the warmth of Yunho's hands, wishing he could hold them one more time.

Professor Sprout filled the silence in the greenhouse by giving a brief history lesson on mistletoe, talking about how it was used as a holiday decoration in the 1700s, then she proceeded explain how wizards used it for potions, though at that point you started zoning out.

Her voice became mere background noise as your eyes lingered on Yunho, who was closely examining the leaves on his plant which was held between his slender fingers.

By some miracle, you managed to pull it together long enough to make it through class.

You rubbed your hands together on the trek back to the school, tugging your scarf up to cover your nose and shield it from the chilly gusts of wind that fiercely hit your cheeks.

Once back inside Hogwarts, you let the heat from the torches lining the hall to warm you up a little. Yunho noticed the way you rubbed your hands together, wiggling your fingers around a bit.

"Here." Yunho held his hands out to you palms up.

You placed your smaller hands in his and allowed him to warm them the best he could, though his fingers were pretty cold as well, but they were warmer than yours. Plus, you can't possibly pass up the opportunity to have his hands holding onto yours.

You chuckled softly at Yunho's appearance, noticing a tint of pink on the tip of his nose.

"What?" He asked amusedly.

"Your nose is pink."

"It's freezing too. Wanna feel it?" He teased, leaning in closely preparing to press his nose against your cheek. You were quick to pull away, laughing at him.

"Come on. Let's go to the dining hall and see if we can get some hot chocolate before our next class." He stated.

"That would be fantastic."

The both of you went straight to the Great Hall where thankfully you were able to get a hot beverage to warm you up, the drink doing wonders for you.

"This was a good call." You sighed contently, grateful that your friend had suggested the idea. "I needed something that would warm me up quickly."

He hummed in agreement, his face covered by the mug as he gulped down the chocolate beverage. Once he set the cup down, a small amount of whipped cream dotted the tip of his nose as well as his top lip, the sight making you giggle.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked, knowing there was whipped topping on him.

"Come here." You beckoned, grabbing a napkin and cleaning his face.

Yunho's heart fluttered at your simple yet very effective actions. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in all your beautiful details, from your lashes to your soft-looking lips, his mind beginning to wander as he imagined what it would feel like to kiss them.

"Yunho?"

He blinked himself from his daze, humming in response.

"You zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. We've got just enough time to get to class."

"Oh. Yeah I'm ready."

It was early morning, right around breakfast time and you were sat in front of the fireplace in the Hufflepuff common room with a letter in your hands and a heavy feeling in your chest.

The sound of feet shuffling along the floor above could be heard over the crackling fire before you, Yunho's voice following after.

"Oh, you got something from your parents?" He observed.

"Yeah." You sighed as he descended the stairs, taking a seat beside you.

"Must've been important if it was delivered straight to the dormitory."

"It was."

Based on your discouraged tone and small frown, whatever news you got wasn't good.

"What's wrong?"

"It's a letter from my parents. They work for the Ministry of Magic so they're really busy and it seems they're not going to be home much. Looks like I'm going to be staying here for Christmas."

Yunho frowned. He hated seeing you upset, even more so he hated that you would be stuck at Hogwarts over Christmas break instead of spending it with your family.

"Come here." He beckoned softly, pulling you into a hug, which you happily accepted.

His hugs were always the best. He was bigger than you, so being in his embrace always felt nice, warm, even safe. You've always joked that his hugs were magical because they always seemed to melt your problems away whenever you were upset about something.

Yunho rubbed your back soothingly, allowing you to stay in his arms for as long as you needed.

If you were forced to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas break, he would stay with you.

Or maybe...

He let out a sudden gasp as a lightbulb went off in his head, making him pull back.

"Why don't you spend Christmas with me and my family?"

You took in a quick breath at his sudden proposition, looking at him with a shocked expression. At your response, or lack thereof, Yunho continued.

"You can send an owl back to your parents and let them know you're going to spend Christmas with me."

You continued to sit there, your mind processing everything.

Spending Christmas with Yunho?

The idea sounded great, honestly. You'd be able to spend the entire break with your crush. What more could you ask for?

Judging by the hopeful expression on his face and the expectant gleam in his eyes, he really wanted you to accept his offer, so you did.

When Christmas break rolled around, you found yourself boarding the Hogwarts Express with Yunho and a suitcase of clothes and other necessities for your visit.

The both of you made your way into one of the roomettes, sliding the door closed behind you before moving to sit on one of the benches.

"Sit next to me, Y/n." Yunho patted the spot next to him.

Softly smiling, you moved across to Yunho's bench, seating yourself beside him.

"I haven't seen your parents in years." You commented.

"I'm sure they're excited to see you, especially mom. She asks about you a lot."

"She does?"

He nodded.

The train departed from the station a few minutes later, rolling into motion. You watched as the school got smaller and smaller the further away you got. Your heart started to beat a little faster at the thought of being with Yunho for two weeks at his home.

The snack trolley rolled by not too long into the ride making the Hufflepuff beside you perk up, an excited gasp leaving him.

"Y/n, do you want something?" He asked.

"Yes, please."

Yunho asked the lady pushing the cart for your favorite candy along with some of his favorites before she went on to the next roomette. It didn't take long at all for the both of you to tear into the sweets, enjoying them as you watched the trees and valleys pass by.

An hour into the train ride, you felt your eyelids begin to droop as a feeling of drowsiness slowly washed over you. Not wanting to fall asleep, you turned your attention to the view out the window and started watching the scenery, a vast field with mountains in the distance, each one a different size. Unfortunately, that didn't do any good and you ended up allowing yourself to rest your eyes for a moment, which of course resulted in you falling asleep.

Yunho's gaze was glued to the landscape outside when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Upon glancing over, he found you sound asleep, your body slumped over on him, head resting on his shoulder.

A soft smile of adoration tugged at his lips as he allowed his gaze to linger on you for a few moments, taking in your features up close. It was only when you stirred slightly that he averted his gaze back to the view outside, his cheeks slightly warm.

When he didn’t feel you move, he peeked over at you once more as soft breaths pushed past your slightly parted lips.

"Y/n. We're here."

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, nuzzling your face into whatever you were resting on.

A deep chuckle sounded afterwards making you peel your eyes open.

Yunho was gazing down at you, eyes gleaming with amusement. It was then that you realized you'd fallen asleep on him, your head resting on his chest. This realization caused you to push yourself off him in a rush.

He only laughed, standing up from his seat.

"I'm sorry." You apologized.

"You seemed to be sleeping well, so I didn't wake you." He responded, offering you his hand. "Come on."

After a short taxi ride, you arrived at your destination, welcomed by strings of beautiful multicolored lights strung along the eaves of the house, the sight giving you a warm feeling in your chest.

You stepped into Yunho's cozy abode, the warmth from inside brushing against your cool cheeks, the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon reaching your senses.

"Come in, come in." Yunho's mom beckoned, ushering both of you inside. "It's freezing out."

Christmas music played softly throughout the home as you removed your scarf, your eyes roaming the house, taking in your surroundings. The feeling of someone tugging on your coat grabbed your attention, it was Yunho. You thanked him quietly, shrugging off the thick jacket and allowing him to hang it on the coat rack by the door.

"My Yunho, come here." His mom cooed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, mom."

After pulling away, she turned to you with a warm smile. "Y/n."

"Hello." You greeted.

"I haven't seen you since you and Yunho were in fourth year." She gushed. "You've grown into such a beautiful young lady."

You muttered a shy thank you before she escorted the both of you into the living room, going on about how excited she was that you'd be joining them during Christmas break and how she had prepared snacks for your arrival. Sitting on the coffee table in the living room was a plate of small sandwiches, crackers, and sliced fruit along with two glasses of water.

"Sorry. She gets enthusiastic when we have guests." Yunho murmured, cheeks tinged pink.

"It's fine. It's actually really nice. I missed her hospitality."

Just then, the front door swung open and Yunho's father walked in, shrugging off his jacket.

"Are they here yet?" He inquired before glancing into the living room where you and Yunho were seated on the couch. "Ah. I missed the welcome party."

"We just got in." Yunho informed him. "You didn't miss much."

"Good, good." His father nodded, making his way over to greet both of you, asking how classes were and how you'd been—just the usual small talk. He then grabbed one of the tiny sandwiches Yunho's mom had made.

At that moment, she entered the room and caught him in the act, immediately scolding him.

"Those are for Y/n and Yunho."

"Alright. Sorry." He chuckled, heading towards the kitchen.

"Y/n, why don't I take your bags to your room?" Yunho's mom offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, no, I insist. You're our guest."

You didn't have time to protest as she grabbed your bag as well as Yunho's and left the room.

After resting for a moment and finishing the finger foods that were prepared, Yunho's mom offered to show you where you'd be sleeping during your visit. Yunho wanted to unpack his things, so he got up and followed you and his mom down the hall, not expecting her to come to a stop at his bedroom.

"You'll have to share with Yunho. I hope you don't mind." She mentioned, opening the bedroom door. "Don't worry, though. I've set up a mattress on the floor so everything should be fine."

"I thought we had a spare bedroom." Yunho spoke up hastily.

"Oh, I've been using it as a storage room."

Yunho's face got hot at the thought of sharing a room with you, but at the same time it was a dream come true. Back at Hogwarts the boys and girls dorms are separated; the girls' dormitory is charmed so no boys can enter, though it's not the same for the boys' dorm, which is odd—but you've never stayed overnight with him before, even at school, so this would be a whole new experience.

Your palms started to get a bit sweaty as you took in the information you were just given, your slightly wide eyes staring at the sight before you. Alongside Yunho's bed was a small, inflatable mattress with a few blankets and pillows on it. While it did look comfortable, it was directly beside the place where Yunho slept. Judging by the giddiness in his mom's voice, she was more than okay with the both of you sharing a room.

"Well, I'll let you two get settled." She spoke up and excused herself.

As soon as she was out of the room, Yunho's head dropped as he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You waved him off.

You and Yunho have been friends for years, sharing a room shouldn't be weird... it only feels that way because of your feelings for him.

"I'm gonna unpack. You can make yourself comfortable."

Yunho moved across the room to his bed where his suitcase laid, unzipping the beg before removing items from it. You started to do the same, taking a seat on the blow up mattress in the floor, taking out your toiletry bag.

"You can put that in the bathroom across the hall." Yunho mentioned. "As for clothes, you can leave them in your suitcase or I can clean out a drawer for you to store them in."

"It's fine. I can just leave them in here." You responded, not wanting Yunho to go to the extra trouble.

Once settled, the both of you were called into the kitchen to have dinner, which smelled so good. It had been a while since you had a home-cooked meal. Though, Hogwarts had exceptional food, there's something different about having something made at home.

"You really went all out." You commented, your mouth watering at the spread before you.

"Of course. It's Christmas, plus we have a special guest. It's the least I could do." Yunho's mom smiled warmly, pouring everyone a drink.

After a nice meal, you spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with Yunho and his parents. Turns out they found amusement in muggle television programs and enjoyed watching them. You unexpectedly got hooked on a particular show, the ups and downs of the plot pulling you in immediately.

After watching a few episodes, you and Yunho decided to get ready for bed and settle in for the night.

You watched in mild amusement as Yunho arranged his pillows in a particular order, one lying flat in the middle and one propped up on the bed frame on either side. A chuckle slipped from you by accident causing the tall boy to turn, eyeing you.

"Sorry." You apologized. "I didn't know you had a system going."

"I do. My bed fits me well so I arrange my pillows like this, but in beds that are shorter where my feet stick out, I arrange them like this." He began shuffling the pillows around, moving the ones that were resting on the bed frame flat on the mattress lying vertically, giving him somewhat of a barrier on either side of his main pillow.

"I have to do this at Hogwarts since the beds are smaller." He mentioned.

It may be silly, but his specific pillow arrangements were extremely endearing to you. The way he had a whole system figured out based on the size of the bed was too cute.

He didn't seem to notice your love-filled gaze as he fluffed his main pillow, shimmying underneath the covers.

"Are you settled in?" He asked.

"Mhm." You hummed.

Yunho raised his wand in the air, using it to turn the lights out before snuggling down into his bed.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Yunho."

Getting to sleep proved to be a bit harder than you had originally thought. You were hyperaware of Yunho sleeping so close to you and that prevented you from getting relaxed enough to rest.

It's not a big deal, Y/n. You told yourself. Yunho is your best friend. You've known him for years. There's no reason to be nervous.

Minutes passed and you tried different positions, lying on your back, your left side, then your right side. Nothing was working.

Movement on the bed caught your attention as Yunho's head popped up, peeking down at you.

"If you're not comfortable, we can switch spots." He offered. "If it's me you're uncomfortable with I can sleep on the couch and you can have my bed."

The thought of sleeping in Yunho's bed under sheets that probably smelled like him drove you crazy, but the inflatable mattress was just fine, plus you didn't want to take Yunho's bed from him.

"I'm good." You assured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. This is fine."

"Well, the offer is still there if you change your mind."

You murmured a thank you before rolling over, finally getting comfortable enough to go to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to Yunho shaking you awake.

"What is it?" You groaned.

"Get up. Hurry!" He pulled you to your feet, your knees nearly buckling, not used to all the sudden movement right after waking up.

Yunho wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you downstairs to the living room window.

"Check it out." Yunho gawked as he gazed out the glass pane.

"Wow." You gaped at the amount of snow that had blanketed the front lawn, the sight instantly waking you up.

"Oh, how pretty." Yunho's mom marveled. "You two should go outside and enjoy it."

The both of you exchanged glances, but before either of you could speak, Yunho's mom did.

"Go on." She gently ushered the both of you towards your room, telling you to bundle up. "I'll start on breakfast and you two go have some fun."

You had no choice but to do as she asked, going right back to Yunho's room.

"I'm so glad I packed warm clothes." You commented, pulling out a sweater and thick pants.

After layering up and putting on your coat and house scarf, you stepped outside hearing the many inches of snow crunch beneath your boots.

"That's one way to wake you up in the mornings." Yunho chuckled, his breaths coming out in puffs due to the frigid air.

"That's for sure." You shivered slightly, the icy weather flushing out the last remnants of sleep from your body.

"Come on." Yunho's gloved hand grabbed yours, tugging you out into the yard. "We should build a snowman."

"With all this snow, we could built three snowmen."

Yunho retrieved his wand from the inside of his jacket with a smirk. "You wanna try it?"

A knowing grin spread across your face as you pulled out your wand. "Let's do it."

With a simple locomotion charm, the both of you had large spheres of snow rolling across the lawn, getting bigger and bigger.

"Bring that one over here." Yunho pointed. "We'll use that for the base."

You nodded, moving your snowball to its designated spot as Yunho stacked his on top, using his wand to place the last and smallest sphere on top. In no time, you had three perfect snowmen built in front of the house.

Using your wands, the both of you gathered sticks and rocks to use for the arms and face for each snowman, placing them accordingly.

"These looks great." You beamed. "It's been  so long since I've done this. I feel like a kid again."

"Me too." He huffed out a laugh. "You think breakfast is ready?"

"I hope so. I'm starving."

"Come on." Yunho held out his hand. "Let's go."

Later that night, the air inside the house was cooler than normal thanks to the piles of snow outside. The double layer of blankets wasn't doing much to keep you warm, no matter how much you curled up or how high they were bunched around your neck.

"Are you cold?" Yunho asked.

You assumed he was asleep, so his voice startled you a bit.

"Just a little." You responded.

"Would you like to sleep up here? It's warmer when you're not close to the floor."

"I don't know. You've got that pillow fort up there, I don't think there's any room for me." You teased.

"I can always make room."

You were so desperate to get warm and Yunho's offer was very appealing, so you agreed.

Yunho shuffled around, adjusting his pillows as you got up off the inflatable mattress and joined him in the bed, which was noticeably warmer than your makeshift one on the floor.

You let out a content sigh, tugging the covers up over you.

"Better?" Yunho asked.

"Much."

At this point, the fact that you were sharing a bed with Yunho didn't phase you, in fact, it was the last thing on your mind. You were just grateful to be warm. Yunho shuffled a bit, giving you some extra space before rolling onto his side, his back facing you.

"This is so much nicer than that air mattress." You commented blissfully.

"I imagine it is."

"You don't have to be so far away." You told him, noticing the distance between the both of you.

"I just wanna make sure you're comfortable."

"I am. Come on." You tugged at the back of his pajama top, making him scoot towards you.

He kept his back facing you, too nervous to turn around. Yunho felt bad that you were cold and simply wanted to help out, but now that you were right beside him, things were starting to sink in.

"Goodnight." You murmured sleepily.

"Goodnight."

It was only when he was sure you were asleep that he turned around. Your cheek was squished against the pillow as small snores moved past your parted lips. His hand reached out towards your face, his slender fingers barely ghosting over your cheek. Yunho found himself unconsciously moving forward, his gaze focused on your lips. Before he could get too close, he came to his senses and pulled away, choosing to go to sleep.

It was finally Christmas Eve and things were in full swing at the Jeong household. Yunho's dad has just placed extra logs in the fireplace while his mom laid out all the sweet treats she had baked, going on about playing some board games later. Presents had been wrapped and placed neatly underneath the tree, each present with a different decorative wrapping.

"There's supposed to be some muggle

Christmas specials on tonight." Yunho's dad mentioned. "We should watch some."

"That'll be fun." You agreed.

"Oh, darn." You heard Yunho's mom mutter.

"Is everything okay?" You inquired, poking your head into the kitchen.

"I'm out of eggs." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "The store closes in half an hour. I need to go."

You and Yunho watched from the living room doorway as she hurriedly slipped on her coat, calling for his dad to come with her.

"You two will be alright staying here by yourselves for a little while, right?"

You both nodded.

With that, she pulled out her wand, both she and Yunho's dad apparating in the blink of an eye.

"I can't wait to get my apparition license." You commented.

"Me too. It'll be so convenient." Yunho agreed.

Letting out a sigh, you turned to face him.

"So, what should we do?"

Your question went unheard and unanswered by Yunho who was more occupied with something above you.

"Ah." Yunho glanced up with rosy cheeks.

Following his gaze, you spotted a small bundle of mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe, sucking in a deep breath at the sight.

"I'm sorry." He muttered embarrassedly. "My mom must've put that there."

The tips of his ears were a deep shade of pink while his cheeks were almost matching.

"It's okay." You shrugged it off, acting as if it wasn't a big deal to help Yunho feel a little more at ease even though you were internally freaking out just like he was.

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you weighed your options. Either you could walk away and pretend this didn't happen, noting to avoid the mistletoe for the rest of your visit, or you could try and kiss Yunho and see what happens.

Before you could make a decision, he started to lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat.

Yunho's lips met yours, pressing softly as if to test the waters. Though there wasn't much force or pressure to the kiss, you could feel the pliant softness of his lips as they dragged slowly against yours before he pulled away, the lack of contact leaving you wanting more. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, reconnecting your lips. The action clearly caught Yunho off guard but he was quick to respond, his arms sliding around your waist pulling you into his broad chest.

Your mind clouded over immediately, the feeling of his mouth on yours was almost too much to handle, but still you wanted more.

You got your wish, because it was at that moment Yunho stepped forward, pressing your back against the frame of the walkway as he began kissing you more feverishly.

Your fingers found purchase in his dark tresses, tugging at his hair. He let out a grunt in response, pressing closer to you.

"Yunho." You murmured against his lips.

He pulled away for a moment, gazing drunkenly at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I like you a lot." You confessed breathlessly. "I have for along time."

"Me too." He sighed, leaning in to capture your lips with his once again.

Your leg wrapped around his torso, your fingers grabbing at the fabric of his sweater.

Yunho pulled away again, making you frown slightly at the loss of contact.

"You're so pretty." He stroked your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you sighed out his name.

"I'm not sure how long your mom will be gone, maybe we should go somewhere else." You suggested.

"Say no more." Yunho began tugging you along through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom.

The both of you collapsed onto his bed with a grunt.

"I think this was my mom's plan all along." He admitted.

"Me too. Maybe we should thank her." You chuckled.

"Maybe we should." He grinned, diving in for another breathtaking kiss.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

[ghoulsbounty]

Okay! Boyd Crowder request pretty please. How about some short headcanons/ thoughts about reader wearing one of his shirts. You know those ones from S2 and 3? Like it’s a warm day and reader shows up to Johnny’s bar in some denim shorts, a crop top and one of Boyd’s shirts open with the sleeves rolled up. I think he’d loose his goddamn mind. Preferably no smut, but I know the request kinda leans into it so maybe something at the end. idk! you do you! Thank you!

Wearing His Shirt

Boyd Crowder x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers for season 2/3, alludes to smut but no actual mention, a little angst, comfort, fluff and a happy ending.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Anon, this turned more into a little fic/scenario moment rather than a headcanon, I hope that's okay and you enjoy it still! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Boyd likes to think of himself as a considerate partner. Although your relationship is still relatively new, he takes pride in picking up on the small details that bring you joy or cause you distress, often understanding your needs before you articulate them. However, with the recent acquisition of his cousin's bar and the complexities of the Black Pike deal, his focus on you has diminished more than he'd like to acknowledge. His once regular check-ins and sweet messages have become sporadic and hurried, often cut short by pressing business matters. The late nights and brief phone calls have led to him being less present both physically and emotionally, and you're reaching your breaking point.

Johnny's bar buzzes with activity, the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses creating a lively symphony in the dimly lit space. The familiar scent of beer and faint traces of smoke hang in the air. As you push open the door and step inside, the room's energy seems to shift, heads turning to acknowledge your presence with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. Their gazes, like predators sizing up their prey, linger on you, but your focus is singular.

Boyd stands behind the bar, a rag casually draped over his shoulder, the dim light casting a warm glow on his features. He engages in a conversation with a patron who is leaning heavily on the counter, gesticulating animatedly. Boyd nods along, listening intently, but the moment he spots you approaching, a noticeable change comes over him. His eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes the bustling room seem to fall away.

As you saunter towards him, his gaze follows your every step, his attention entirely consumed by your presence. The customer’s words fade into the background, reduced to a dull hum as Boyd's focus shifts solely to you. His eyes drift down your body, taking in every detail of your appearance, from the way your eyes shine as you look at him to the confident way you carry yourself. It's as if he's seeing you for the first time all over again, his expression a mix of admiration and longing.

You feel a spark of satisfaction knowing that you can still capture his attention so completely, even amidst the chaos of his busy bar. As you reach the counter, Boyd's lips curl into a slow smile, the kind that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. You watch as he gestures with a hand to the customer he was previously talking with and you smile at the older gentleman as he rises from his seat, disappearing behind you.

Boyd leans slightly closer, his eyes never leaving yours, making you feel like the most important person in the room. In that moment, surrounded by the lively chatter and clinking glasses, it’s clear that no one else matters to him but you.

Seeing you in his shirt stirs something deep within him, a quiet sense of possessiveness that isn’t about control or dominance, but rather a satisfying feeling of connection. He appreciates the way you fill out the shirt, how the navy and grey fabric drapes over your frame, hinting at the contours beneath.

To the other men in the establishment, the glimpse of your bare thighs in those fitted cut-offs or the swell of your breasts in the thin crop underneath his shirt would undoubtedly set their hearts racing. Boyd, too, couldn’t help but appreciate that enticing sight. However, what truly struck a chord with him was witnessing your subtle proclamation of his ownership over you amidst a room bustling with other men. You belong to him, and he certainly belongs to you. 

You approach him with slow, deliberate strides until just the counter is between you, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of admiration and desire. A mischievous spark dances in his eyes as he leans casually against the bar, his fingertips tingling with the desire to caress the fabric, to revel in the warmth of your skin beneath. Yet, just before his hand extends, he halts, a silent gesture of restraint, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. With a deliberate movement, he clasps his hands firmly on the counter, his touch reserved yet charged with an unspoken promise of what could be.

His voice, usually smooth and confident, carries a subtle huskiness as he speaks. "Well now, ain't that a sight," he remarks, his drawl laced with amusement. "Looks like my shirt found itself in the finest of company today."

"Been feeling mighty lonely lately. Ain't been getting much attention, you know," you confide in him, a playful lilt in your voice as you tilt your head. "Thought maybe borrowing your shirt might do the trick, you reckon?"

Straightening up, Boyd casts a deliberate gaze around the room, a silent command for everyone present to divert their attention away from the captivating vixen who's currently pouting at him. Once he's ensured that all eyes have shifted elsewhere, he snaps his focus back to you with a confident smirk.

"Well, darlin'," he drawls, his voice low and rough, "seems like you've succeeded in getting everyone's attention, mine included."

"Hard work, nowadays," you sigh dramatically, and he chuckles softly as he leans across the bar, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly soft kiss, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. "Do I get to keep it for long?" you whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the buzz of the bar.

"Have I been neglecting you, baby?" He grins as he leans back slightly, his hand reaching out to casually adjust the rolled sleeves of his shirt that adorns your figure. "Is that why you've decided to grace my fine establishment with your beauty, nearly causing every man in this joint to suffer a near fatal heart attack, hm?"

His tone is playful, but beneath the jest, there's a hint of genuine concern. He watches you closely, searching your eyes for any sign of discontent or longing, his fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt on your skin with a tender familiarity.

You giggle, running your thumb along his forearm as he continues to absentmindedly toy with the fabric. "Maybe that was the plan all along. Finally, some quality time for me with no customers or associates around, huh? I can be your number one priority," you tease, the playful tone in your voice ringing through the air. But your laughter falters as you notice a brief flicker of something in his expression, a momentary hardening before it softens again.

His gaze meets yours, and you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes, the struggle to balance his personal and professional life. There's a vulnerability there that he rarely shows, a glimpse behind the confident façade he wears for the world. You reach out, your hand gently squeezing his arm, silently offering reassurance and understanding.

As he pulls back from you, a fleeting worry crosses your mind. Have you said too much? Pushed him too far? Though Boyd has never so much as raised his voice at you, his sudden movement sparks a flicker of concern. You watch in silence as he takes the rag from his shoulder, tossing it down onto the bar with a resolute thud, and steps out from behind the counter, closing the distance between you at last.

In that moment of uncertainty, his words wash over you like a soothing balm. "You are always my first priority," he murmurs, his voice soft and intimate, filled with a sincerity that melts away your apprehension. His arms slide under the shirt you wear, encircling your waist as he draws you close to his chest.

As you nestle against him, his gaze meets yours, and you see the earnestness in his eyes. "I'm sorry I haven't been present," he admits, his voice tinged with remorse. "But I'm going to fix that."

"I know," you assure him with a smile, your hands tenderly resting on his chest as you lean in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

He returns your smile, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a hushed tone, meant only for you to hear. "Let's go in the back," he murmurs softly, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I've got a feeling I need to remind you just how much you mean to me."

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I am my own worst enemy (Wyll Ravengard x Reader)

synopsis: When you agree to dance with Wyll, the night does not end like you would have expected it.

warnings: kinda emotional hurt/comfort, afab reader

word count: 2.2k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

It has been a long day, too long in your opinion and the sleep that is soon to take you for the night is pulling you in with insistent arms as you slip out of your armour into some casual clothes. You are ready for your head to hit the pillow as you pass out, but the shuffling of steps around the dying embers of the campfire alerts you into a state of heedfulness. There has been just one too many uninvited nightly visitors in camp as of late.

Groaning you rub your eyes and force your legs to carry you out of the tent again. Sluggish, heavy steps lead you to witness a true sight to behold. Moving around the dying flames, with a grace you knew only a small group of people to possess, is none other than Wyll. His eyes closed and humming a slow, simple melody under his breath. His smooth voice instantly calms any tension in your body and as you take on a more relaxed stance you allow yourself to bask in the tranquillity of the moment. Your feet shuffling in the rubble on the ground is what ultimately breaks his peace. Or perhaps he just heard your heart beating out of your chest, you tell yourself. His one dark eye flies open and finds you immediately.

“Ah, my apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt you.” You rasp quietly, scared to chase away the remnants of tranquillity if you spoke too loudly.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He responds calmly.

The gentle, smoothness of his voice would never not send comfortable shivers down your spine. And it never would make your face heat up less. Ever since you have met Wyll, he has never looked as calm and happy as when he had danced.

“I do hope you weren't waiting for someone and I just chased them away.” Though there is light heartedness in your tone, the thought produces a stinging feeling in your chest.

“They have just arrived.” Wyll grins as he answers.

Looking around you see everyone is still in their tents. Then it dawns on you who he means and as you point at yourself, your face begins to warm up considerably. Something thought impossible before. The raven-haired man nods once and with a final step towards you, he offers his hand as if the two of you were at a grand ball in one of the palaces in Baldur's gate, dressed to the nines, instead of mortal peril somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Biting your lower lip to fight back a growing smile of your own, you gladly lay your palm onto his. Immediately you get caught up in the embrace of his arms, body not yet cold from the nightly chill. The movements he leads are slow, deliberate. Bordering on sensual as the two of you dance around each other. Electricity crackles in the little bubble around you, the rest of the world gone. Pushed into the background by the energy rushing through your veins. It feels so surreal, yet nothing has ever felt better or more natural before than being right there with him. At the same time, you can feel your heart racing dull and echoing painfully in your chest. The joy of the moment being overshadowed by a, in your mind, very well-founded fear.

Wyll takes your hand again as the two of you come to a stand. Together you sink to one knee, feeling the cold earth underneath seep in through the comfy clothes. The sensation is solely fought by the touch of your palms and the intense chocolate brown eye searching your gaze. It's inevitable what's going to happen next, the moment is as perfect as the two of you could have wished it to be. If only you didn't turn your head to the side at the last second.

You don't dare to look at Wyll. Ashamed at the confusion and hurt pulling the corners of his mouth down and drawing his eyebrows together. Deep creases of worry laying over his forehead as he slowly stands up. Everything inside of you tightens, painfully so at the restraint it costs.

“I apologise if I have come on too strong with my advances.” The resignation in his voice could break the hardest of hearts. “I must have lost myself in the thought of prancing around the balls of Baldur's Gate in my younger days.”

You open your mouth in an attempt to soothe his hurt, or maybe your own, but not a sound comes out around the lump in your throat. You have nothing left but to sit down on the cold ground as Wyll walks away and takes all the warmth that had previously flooded you with him.

Even when you thought it impossible, you break even more when you finally look up at him. Wyll had started to slowly retreat, facing towards you and ever so slightly reaching out one of his hands.

“Sleep well.” He mutters despondently.

“Wait.” You call out loud enough you are sure for a moment it would wake up everyone else.

But desperation makes oneself care little about unimportant issues like that. Especially in the face of scaring away the first good thing you had found in a long while. Even if stupidly enough, scaring him away had seemed like a completely viable option for the longest while.

The kiss the two of you had shared at the riverbed hidden away from the visitors of the Tiefling festivities, practically tortured you. Unable to forget it when it plays over and over every time you close your eyes.

The beat of silence between you stretches into infinity, filled with your racing thoughts and even more rapidly racing heart.

“Wait.” You repeat, quieter this time. “Please stay. Just a moment longer.”

There is a struggle to decide freezing him to his place a few steps away from you. You don't dare to let your mind rejoice yet as he sits down beside you.

“Something wears on your mind.” It's a statement more than anything else, followed by another beat of silence.

“Do you mean aside from the pressure of getting told that all the realms' fate lays in my hands wherever we go and the danger of the worms in our heads threatening to consume us any moment?” You manage a short and bitter chuckle.

The action gets you met with a stern look and waiting silence. So, you sigh and sink in on yourself as you get ready to make the confession you never thought you'd have to make.

“I care about you, Wyll. More than I would have ever liked to care about anyone.” You murmur at a measured pace. Thinking thoroughly how to explain your reasoning.

It´s obvious that he wants to say something, but one look tells him he would get an explanation in time. A strange calm fills you when he closes his mouth again. Glad for the understanding.

“But I cannot allow myself to give in to the longing that has pulled on my heart strings since the day we met. Not until all of this has been resolved, if it ever will be. I could not bear the thought of losing you right when I just found you. I can barely stand the sight of any of you getting hurt. And we don´t know what to expect at Moonrise, or beyond that when we reach the city.”

“So you are simply swearing off anything that does not serve the purpose?” He asks incredulously. There is a certain irony to his words.

“Well, I tried. It worked well enough in the beginning, but…” You take a pause to breathe before the confession you had tried to avoid. “I cannot seem to shake my affection for you. No matter how hard I try.”

Wyll lets out a huffed breath beside you. The action pulls your eyes to his face to better gauge his reaction, but he does not lead anything on. Your heart hammers in your chest so hard you are sure the sound fills the silence as it does for you.

“I understand that you are afraid. A lot has happened in quite a short amount of time.” Wyll finally speaks up, his eye steady on your face. “You should know however, that I would gladly be by your side as more than a friend for everything that is about to come still. No matter if we know what that entails for certain or not.”

“Are you sure about this?” You look up at him with a shimmer in your eyes that he could feel himself melt at.

“How did you phrase it? We will find a way out of this, if we just put our worms together.” Wyll chuckles at the phrase.

Another wave of warmth floods through you and as if on its own, one of your hands wanders over his shoulder and neck to rest against his cheek. Feeling the difference between the soft skin and tender scars under the pad of your thumb. Following it down to his chin. His eye flutters close and electricity courses from your soles to the crown of your head. His words strangely quell your fears. Or perhaps it is just his voice that could persuade you to do almost anything. Slowly you kneel down in front of him, laying your other hand on his chest.

“I love you.” You murmur full of admiration.

“I adore you.” He hums, laying his hands over yours. "Deeply."

“My knight in shining armour.” You mumble, hopeless admiration flickers in your eyes.

“My one and only.” He answers in a hoarse murmur.

Hopelessness turns into bliss under Wyll´s watchful gaze soon as you reangle your face to let the bridge of your nose rub against his. Your foreheads lean safely against each other, holding space for the affections taking over you. Affection that is unwilling to be held back any longer.

The air grows more charged with every second the two of you let pass by in silence. As your breath mingles and heavy eyelids slowly fall close, as the barely existing space between you gets breached for your lips to lock in a shy show of your emotions. Delicately tasting each other for the first time and all of a sudden, the responsibilities on your shoulders feel a little lighter, the world a little less grim, a little less cold, a little righter. As soon as your lips touch however, the two of you part again already. While you are sure what to await in terms of Wyll’s reaction, the raven-haired man still manages to floor you with the sheer softness in his left eye. At that moment, you are sure you have never seen anyone more beautiful. No one´s touch had ever felt so invigorating or had left a trail of fire in it´s wake just like Wyll could. There is no denying any more by now that you have no strength left to withstand him any longer. So, you lean into his palm on your cheek further and allow your lips to mirror the smile on his ones.

“I wish dawn would never come so we could stay in this moment forever.” You sigh.

“I wish so as well, yet dawn must always follow the night. Even if it is a night as this. And there could always be more like it to come.” He replies, hope shimmering through every word.

“I would like that very much.” You agree quietly.

“May I kiss you again?” Wyll croaks.

“You may.” You smile shily. Unable to recline such a sweet request.

The initial shyness quickly dissolves with the new touch to make way for the earlier desperation. Driving the two of you closer together until there is no room left for breath in between your bodies. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, while Wyll’s arms rest over your hip bones. Your lips dance together much like your bodies had previously, passionately, pouring every emotion into the experience. Hands not only exploring but also holding the other right there with you. Not wanting to pull away so soon after you had finally admitted to your feelings. Pulling each other close by anything you can hold onto.

Heavy breathing fills your little bubble the longer the kiss goes on as the sheer intensity seems to rob every last breath from your lungs. Only for him to breathe life into you once more. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours for all you know, but eventually Wyll does pull away again. Just enough to look at you in all your wide eyed and parted lips, heavy breathing glory.

“You are so beautiful.” He croaks. Under your fingers his heart beats a little faster, leaving no doubt of the truth in his words.

Together the two of you lay down to get some rest for the remainder of the night, but you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him. Sleep had managed to get far away enough to evade you entirely now.

“I do not know if you are really charming or if I am simply easily charmed, but I do know that I would not have it any other way.” You muse.

[blackdollette]

hey there! just wanted to request a lil smut with female reader and clyde when kinda experienced reader takes clydes v card and hes like super shy n stuff and its just really cute :)

aww i like this one! :))

"kissing you hard, got my lipstick on your face." | clyde

roses. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly

female!reader x virgin!clyde

word count: 1.8k

contents: unprotected p in v

the night was still young, and the fun was just about to begin. from raging parties to slow makeout sessions in the back of clyde’s van, there was never a dull moment when you were with him.

tonight’s activity wasn’t anything special, but it held much potential for moving to the next level in your relationship. he was sprawled across the couch with you lying face down on top of him. he tangled complicated swirls into your hair and he used his other hand to draw mindless patterns onto your soft skin with his fingertips.

your eyes momentarily flickered to the movie that was playing on the television, your mind travelling to something that has strangely never occurred in you and his agenda. you had been through it all together: through the best and worst times of your life, he had always been there. you two had a palpable connection that took years to build and would only grow stronger. but you couldn’t shake the thought that you and him weren’t fully united.

he had never touched you. and it was mutual. the most heated you’d ever gotten with him was lying down on top of him as his boner pressed into your stomach, and even then, he insisted that you could have the bed to yourself for the night, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with the awkward occurrence of his erection.

but that had been your plan all along. you wanted to lead him on so that you could finally take that deeper step into your relationship. but as usual, he found a convenient way to turn you down. the first few times he avoided getting intimate with you, you paid no mind to it. but as the years passed, you got the impression that it wasn’t as much of a coincidence as you thought.

you snapped back into reality as he gently caressed your hips, his heavy-lidded eyes shutting as exhaustion spread through his body. your heart warmed at the sight, but the raging question still burned in your mind. you had pushed it back for as long as you could remember, but there was no better time than now.

you shook him a little. once, then twice before tickling him a little. you whispered gently in his ear. “clyde, wake up…” your lips just barely brushed against his ear lobe making his eyes spring open. his gaze met your bug, dolly eyes looking right back at him, causing a smile to tug at his lips. he pulls you into a tender kiss, holding it for a few seconds before speaking.

“what’s up, doll..?” god. his voice alone was enough to send blood rushing down to your sensitive bud. you cleared your throat slightly, deciding how to approach this. you could either ease him into the topic, slowly undressing yourself until he took charge, or you could just rip the bandaid off and get straight to it. considering all your past failed attempts, you decided to go with the latter.

you caressed his cheek with your thumb, his cold skin warming up with your touch. his breathing was barely audible over yours, the tension becoming stronger by the second. he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you into him even more before slowly connecting his lips with yours once again, drinking you in as your hearts raced in unison.

short gasps slipped from his lips as you caressed his jawline. the movie droned on in the background but you had managed to get him to tune that out. his hands ran up and down your back as your hand slowly slipped down to his throbbing manhood. as soon as he caught onto what you were getting at, he pulled away from the kiss, his once pale skin now flushed brick-red.

he laughed nervously, putting some distance between the two of you. he looked at you, struggling to get his words out as his mind rushed. “w-we almost forgot about this movie, huh?” his eyes bounced around the room, displaying clear discomfort. you frown, beginning to see the bigger picture. 

he notices your change in mood. he pats you on the head, smiling sheepishly before turning his attention back to the screen. with a frustrated sigh, you grabbed the remote out of his grip, turning off the tv. he looks at you with confusion painted all over his face. “baby..?” you toss the remote to the side, sitting up and pulling him with you. 

you take a deep breath. it was now or never, and at this point you were just dying to know the answer to your question. “why won’t you have sex with me..?” as soon as you spoke, you cursed yourself for being so forward. your cheeks burned as you caught a glimpse of his flushed expression.

he chokes on his words, unable to give you any sort of response. this only fills your heart with even more dread. “am i the problem, clyde? is it me?” that dumb, stunned expression remains on his face. your patience snaps like a thread. “answer me! is it because im to-” your negative words are cut off but yet another embrace, his lips locking with yours with more passion than ever.

he holds this kiss for a long time, allowing your tongues to mesh together and explore each other more than ever before. his hands travel up your shirt, lifting it up and disconnecting your lips for just a second to pull it over your head. he takes a moment to stare at your body for a moment. you sat bare in front of him, your nipples hardening from the cool air.

his hands were wrapped around your waist as he took in your body for the first time. this was the closest to nude that he’d ever seen you. “s-so perfect…” his gaze travelled down your figure, stopping at your black panties. he went to go pull down the fabric, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his heart. “you haven't answered my question…”

he too a deep shaky breath, realizing that the truth would come out eventually. “ive been pushing back on doing it with you b-because… im a virgin…” his voice got quiet at the end, but suddenly you understood. you placed your hands in his hair, running your fingers through his brown locks as he continued to speak.

“dont get me wrong. ive thought about it, like a lot. like whenever we kiss or sleep together or you sit on my lap or-” he begins to ramble, getting turned on just by the thought of you in this state. his eyes meet your breasts once more before they move up to your eyes. he sighs deeply, speaking more solemnly this time. “y-your perfect, and i just don’t wanna mess up or hurt you or anything, y’know?” you scoot onto his lap a little more, feeling his hard-on pressing right against your wet, clothed pussy.

his ears started to tingle as his body begged for you. he made eye contact with you, exchanging a thousand words that didn’t even need to be said. he started pulling up his shirt, tossing it to where yours was before wrapping his arms around you. after a few moments, he finally says the words you’ve been dying to hear. “im ready for you, baby…”

in a flash, your wet panties along with his baggy sweatpants were discarded, leaving both on your bare as you hungrily embraced eachother. your mouths reconnected, the kisses becoming sloppier as each second passed. you lifted your hips, getting a light grip on his painful erection. he hisses sharply at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock, but he just watches, allowing you to take the lead.

you use his tip to tease the entrance of your dripping cunt, slurred moans slipping from your parted lips. clyde places his gentle hands onto your hips, helping you sink down onto his length. he fills you up pretty easily, but you gasp at the feeling of his length in your hole. he gets a stab of worry.

“are you ok? does this hurt?” you can sense the worry in his voice, but you start rocking your hips against him slowly. he takes your hands in his for support as the overwhelming feeling turns to one of pleasure. he exhales deeply, allowing his body to submit to the sensation. he watched as you slowly rode him, his precum making the perfect lube. 

clyde quickly gets into the feeling, getting a better sense of what he’s doing. he slips a hand to your throbbing clit, starting to rub slow circles onto it. louder moans emerge from your throat, giving the signal that he’s doing the right thing. “t-this is ok..?” he still sounds unsure, but when you nod shakily, he speeds up his motions, hearing the wet sounds your sweet little pussy makes.

time begins to go elastic as you quicken up your pace, the sounds of breathless moans and skin slapping filling the room. clyde’s mouth is on one of your tits, swirling his tongue around your hard nipple as he uses his hand to work on the other one. your tight cunt squeezes against his length, causing his occasional groans to become more frequent.

your eyes travelled down his toned, muscular body, making you wonder why you hadn’t down this sooner. his dilated pupils swallowed his baby blue irises, making him look much more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. the moment comes when he feels that bundle of heat forming in the depths of his gut, signalling his first orgasm.

the sensation is completely unfamiliar to him, and his body gets overwhelmed with the feeling once more, but before he can get a word out, he’s shooting his ropes of cum into your core. you throw your head back, riding him at a rapid pace and making both your bodies jump, your tits bouncing right in front of his face.

you milk him completely dry, not stopping until you sense his overstimulation. you pull yourself off of him, letting his cum drip out of your hole and back onto his girth. you collapsed on top of him, panting as you recollected yourself from being filled up so much. if he hadn’t told you that this was his first time, you never would’ve guessed.

clyde gently caresses your cheek, looking at you as the realization finally sinks in. you had taken his virginity. you allowed him to take that major step into manhood. silence filled the room as you closed your eyes, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. the silence was broken by a question that you never would’ve expected. “so… round 2?”

author's note: im back from my unannounced break yall :)) i got two requests this morning plus one from last week that im going to try to get out this weekend. hope you all enjoyed!

[lotus--pond]

you said ask about your oc's....so PLS TELL ME UR FAV OC'S LOREEEEE (I love hearing about people's ocs TvT)

OH MY GOD HOW MUCH TIME DO YOU HAVE

insert the: 'you're asking me about my theories? I've waited YEARS FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT MY THEORIES. hold on, I made a model!!!" audio from She-ra

So technically I have two blorbos, but they're twins and its impossible to tell one's story without the others so yeah (I'll mainly be talking about one of them but)

meet Cassiopeia(she/her) and Calcifer(any) :3 (yes his name is a howl's moving castle ref) (art courtesy of my friend who isn't on tumblr)

So basically as kids they were acrobats in the circus as a big family act with their parents and eight sisters, Carsyn(carsie), Cataleyah (catalie), Camelia (cammie), Carlota(carlie), Catalina (cattie, pronounced like patty), Cambria(cambrie), Candaria (candie), and Coliana (collie, pronounced like goalie). They all looked very similar, but cas n cal were the only ones of their siblings with vitiligo. (fun design fact that my friend came up with when he was drawing them and I said yeah I'll incorporate that into my belief system, their vitiligo markings on their faces are in a bit of a ying-yang shape:) ) (yes I know this is practically impossible but you gotta work with me here this is fictional) They all had very long hair, like down past the waist kinda length.

Everything was great they loved their family and they did acrobatics and trapeze stuff n shit v nice. I mean yeah some people were really weird about them and their also very young sisters but other than that we were good. the two both learned to play the piano and sing (cal's singing voice sounds like Rio Romeo in my head) as an additional act and everything was great!

and then the circus burned down and killed the rest of their family- there was no malicious intent behind the fire, just a regular run of the mill fire. but, they were all running and trying to get out when Cal got trapped underneath a falling piece of rubble or something. Cas turned back to go help them, separating the two from the rest of their family. She managed to get them out and they got out of the giant circus tent, their family however, did not. Cal retained burn scars basically from their back down to their calves, and Cas has them going from her hands to about her elbows (you can see them kinda in the drawing but she has gloves on)

another thing about these two is they belong to a much larger story that my friend is writing about a cult (basically they sent a google form out to me and a bunch of our friends and we filled out like background, appearance, and personality stuff for the characters) and this is how they got recruited. One of the recruiters for the cult(another thing they had us do was choose a role for each character, like what they do in the cult) found them and the two of them having no where else to go and being incredibly emotionally vulnerable 17 year olds, they accepted and went with.

They're at the cult and things get a bit blurry from there in terms of what they do. They take on the roles of maids and they mostly keep to themselves, even Cassie's usually bright and friendly demeanor dulled quite a bit. Cal was more sociable than he is now, but he was more introverted than his sister. Cal also developed some anger issues and Cas developed lots of anxiety unfortunately.

The two of them are very sneaky and make very little noise and sneak up on people very unintentionally. They like stretching their muscles by parkouring about whatever area the cult is currently is. one of the cults council members (the cult has a council of three that make decisions for the group), Donna (one of my other blorbos) finds out and decides that she can use this to her advantage, you see, Donna is a woman in a male dominated field, and by that I mean to say she's a manipulator. She thrives on knowing people's secrets and if they're dissenting. So she takes the two underneath her wing and basically enlists them as spies.

Cas n Cal got nothing better to do, so they do and they look around. And something something happens where they're snooping around and aren't as careful as they could be because Cas has lost some kind of jewelry that belonged to their family and she's PANICKING and Cal goes to the most notorious's thief in the cult's room and is basically tearing it apart looking for the jewelry, and sure enough, they find it. Later, said thief is yelling because someone clearly went through her room.

Cas is still panicking and Cal is like idgaf you took my sister's jewelry but they're not gonna admit that and blow the whole spy secret, but all the sudden, Donna shows up! She starts yelling back at the thief and tells them they have no right to accuse anyone of stealing (Donna and the thief already have beef its a long story). She pulls the twins aside and is basically like hey y'all. so maybe be a bit more careful, but I'm not mad at y'all.

Donna basically takes them in as her younger siblings because she has sibling related issues and the twins are desperately missing their older sisters so yeah.

But anyway onto QUEERS

so there's this guy. he's also my blorbo, long and short of it is. Emmett (he/him) wannabe detective, in reality he's a coffee addicted sleep deprived paranoid conspiracy theorist. And somehow Cal finds that attractive. Emmie finds out about Cal and Cas's snooping and asks them if they can also give him some info about people if he asked. They agreed because they were smitten, but under some conditions of who and what they would tell him about.

lots of stuff happens, one night they're drinking and Emmett gets mad at Cal for some reason (I say as if I haven't written out the scene in great detail) and basically says they think he's pathetic and how he doesn't need their pity and that they're treating him like a charity case and overall being a drunk asshole

Cal is also drunk and does a lil but of a slam him into the wall bit but not in a sexy way in a "you piece of horse-shit" kinda way.

excerpt from when I wrote the scene :P

"

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way.” Callie interrupted, standing up from their seat and walking around the desk until they were face to face with Emmett. “I cannot believe that you are so catastrophically in your own way that you decide to sabotage yourself every chance you get.”

They took a step forward, Emmett taking one back in turn. “And you NEVER, I mean never, get to speak to me about why I’m here because I know exactly the only reason you want me here” It had never been so apparent to Emmett how much Calcifer towered over him.

“I have ulterior motives? I don’t have to be a genius to remember how you only gained an interest in me when I told you I could get you information. I realized it in the moment, but apparently I am a bit of a fool because I brushed it off like… like an idiot. And a desperate one at that!” “I was so starved for any type of attention that the second you even hinted that you gave a single shit about me I jumped at it like a damn dog.” It only took a few more steps for Emmett’s back to hit the wall with a sharp intake of breath. There was a vague look of panic in his eyes as they only kept on speaking.

“So yes, maybe I am a desperate, delusional idiot, but you know what you are? You are a self-absorbed, cruel, unfeeling, son of a b*tch.” Emmett seemed to be trying to look anywhere but Calcifer as they laid into him."

" so yeah I broke my gays a little bit (but I'm very proud of how I wrote the whole thing)

but yeah anywhoosies they proceed to call him selfish and self-absorbed and tell him they can't believe they ever even considered having feelings for him and then they realized they basically just told him they have feelings for him and decide. welp. guess that's my cue to go.

he tries to get them to stay but they basically tell him to go fuck himself and slam the door. he curls up on the ground and has a breakdown, Cassie finds Cal outside vomiting into the bushes and they tell her what happened and she tells them to give him a chance. They don't answer her but then they go to bed

and I don't have it written yet but eventually they do apologize and make up and now they're a thing but for a lil while there the queers were struggling.

they are also both dating this other person (polyamory win) like a year later named River(she/him) another one of my blorbos. long and short of her is that she's a cowboy thief who had to flee to Canada (forgot to mention this is 1950s Canada but also if there are any inaccuracies no there aren't leave me alone <3 ) after a heist gone wrong

and all three of them are together and I think their dynamic is very black cat (Cal) golden retriever (River) chihuahua (Emmie)

but yeah these are my blorbos! I spent like a day writing this so yeah hope you like em

[peachteal]

so uhm this is kinda my first post!

I decided I was just going to post random scraps I like to write on my notes app. I actually get these ideas by spinning different roulettes; with character tropes, sceneries, and traits! also randomly picking the fandom and character I'm writing these about.

all of my work is going to be character x reader. I don't really specify the readers gender in this one even if i did base it around a female one, so be comfortable with whatever.

this came out VERY random, but I hope maybe you can enjoy it.

(English isn't my first language)

__________________________

629 words:)

co-worker!nanami x outsider!reader

The countless documents getting all dusty and old on the shelves of the office are a constant reminder of what this job feels like; old and crusty.

I know it's not different from what I like to do; sitting in front of a screen all day, except this is more of a.. monotonely tiring and dull activity, which I'd like to separate from the fun late nights I wrap myself into when I'm streaming in my dear online platforms. You see, I find absolutely no pleasure in the minimum wage that document filling brings to my life. I have no idea why I keep myself in this enclosed -and weirdly odorless space- when my streaming hobby has a better financial reward anyway.

but oh, I just lied. I know why I do.

It's all thanks to the captivating and amusingly elegant co-worker I have. Nanami Kento, aren't you such a delight for these lazy eyes?

Poised and tactful, but even more courteous than any man I've met before. We've spoken a few times, not that I'm great at chatting - oh god, not at all! - but I think he's caught my seek of belonging in this office.

it's not insane that I, as a human being, want to socialize outside of my twitch chat and discord groups to make some desperately needed friends, or even partners for life; it's just a little hard, yet respectful men like him try and surprisingly give me some space.

Keyboards clicking, coffee mugs cluttered on desks, and small chatter fill the office—a far cry from the sleek, professional vibe they sold me on when I took the job. It’s just another stereotypical sad workplace.

__________________________

-"..Suguru asks if you're done already." a low but strangely gentle tone behind me caught my attention. I look up, and meet some hazel nutty eyes.. they don't look much different than my own; sloppy and baggy, but I manage to get lost in them for a second more than I should.

I snap out of it and shake my head slightly as I let out a sigh.. closing my eyes for a second. I remember the papers due.. today. Right. I shouldn't forget Suguru gets along very very well with formality. Another thing to keep in mind, as if the higher-ups don't have weird rules to follow already. I truly am done with this job.

-"right, Suguru and his.. goddamn papers." I'm trying not to look like a mess right now, and more job-focussed in front of such a man. But the childish cat background on my computer doesn't help. "please tell him that uhm-.. Satoru messed with the computers again or something.." I’m pretty sure Suguru will believe anything bad about Satoru—he loves thinking that idiot is an actual idiot. But a gut feeling tells me it's more than that-.. anyways.

I dont really say anything else, holding my cofee mug and taking a sip.

Nanami does help me around, I bring him some coffee myself eventually - while I try to ignore nasty looks other co-workers give. as immature and juvenile as that feels for a workspace.

a second of a slightly long silence holds between us. -"I expected this," Nanami's usual stern face doesn't budge. Yeah, he's kind, but professional - I'm constantly messing up my work, and this leaves me more than embarrassed. "I already told Suguru something happened. Don't.. stress yourself out." I think his tone hesitated a little there; that last part wasn't like usual.

I choked on the coffee. Watching him turn away- stealing just the smallest glance in an expression that leaves me with nothing to analyze -and step to his desk. Just four words that just felt weirdly intimate in a way I can't seem to explain.

[putschki1969]

YKL vol.#20～Japanese Seal 20th Special～ Kanagawa Performance Broadcast

2024.06.09 Kanagawa・Kenmin Hall The second concert of this year's Yuki Kajiura live tour was broadcast last night on TBS Channel 1. The tour is titled “Special Japanese Seal” referring to the fact that no Japanese songs are performed. This exclusion does not apply to the encore section. User 蓝原延珠_ on Bilibili kindly provided their recording of the broadcast, you can watch it HERE. I was only able to download a 720p version (~1GB) of it but for the time being, it will do. I am eager to watch it and write a little report. Hopefully an HQ version will pop up in a few days. Without further ado, let's get going〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

overture〜アンチヒーロー〜Main Theme〜: Right off the bat, I'm noticing that the audio is quite dull and maybe even slightly tinny? Might be the specific recording but it's probably more a matter of the TV broadcasts generally having bad audio. That was clearly noticeable when you compared the Kaji Fes TV broadcast to the BD release. Anyway, we are off to a great start. Glad to see rito and Lino on stage from the get-go and not just for a couple of songs here and there. It always feels a bit awkward for them to have the status of "regular" members but only appearing on stage sporadically. I haven't listened to any songs from the Antihero soundtrack so this is all new to me. Classic YK, the type of song I will always gravitate towards. Beautiful harmonies. Enjoying the slight whine in Eri's voice, so emotional. Love when the epic part starts and you can hear an entire chorus in the background (maybe a bit too much studio magic going on here but I don't mind for grand sections like that). Must have been a real goosebumps moment at the live.

the four rings: Wow, this one is so good. Don't think I've heard it before. Not too familiar with the Heaven’s Feel OST tbh. Really getting goosebumps now. Although I will say that here, the post-editing is a bit overbearing, it seems to almost drown out the vocals of our songstresses. Don't get me wrong, it still sounds amazing and I am enjoying the hell out of it but I wonder how it was like at the venue (with presumably less studio magic). With six singers on stage, they can certainly achieve some powerful choral work but of course it would still pale in comparison to a larger choir. Nonetheless, this is an instant favourite. Hope they will perform it during the Asia tour leg. Although I kinda doubt it since they said that the setlist would be very different. But who knows, it's Fate/stay night so it's probably among the more-likely pieces to be performed among Yuki's huge repertoire. My guess is that they will stick to the most popular anime stuff because they know that will get the audience excited.

absolute configuration: Perfect transition. Never getting tired of this song. And I'm glad we are back to a more natural sound with less studio magic. Solid performance as always.

E.G.O: Have they ever performed this live for a home video release? I don't think so. It was included in one of the live complication albums (Fictionjunction 2010-2013) but I don't recall ever watching a live performance. I have to admit that I haven't even listened to the live audio track, must have dismissed it when I first got the album. I can understand why because it's not really my type of song. It's not bad but not my favourite either. Very old-school YK so that's fun. And there are a couple of nice Keiko parts, that's always a treat.

キッチン革命〜Main Theme〜: A completely new track from one of Yuki's most recent works. Definitely a perfect fit for a show called "Kitchen Revolution" XD Especially the percussion at the beginning. The harmony between Yuriko, Lino and rito works really well, they sound good together. Other than that, it probably won't become one of my favourite songs. Generally not a huge fan of Yuriko as main vocalist. No one does those gorgeous operatic higher harmonies like her but when the spotlight is on her, it's typically not my cup of tea.

voyagers: As far as I know, we only have the studio version and live audio from the compilation album as reference. No official live footage. The song has never really stuck out to me, it is okay but it's a bit too derivative of much better tracks from Yuki. Will keep it short so I don't trigger anyone. But it's definitely one of those songs where I prefer the version with Wakana. Joelle's vocals don't do anything for me here. But since I am not super invested in the song anyway, I can't say I care much.

Historia: opening theme: Beautiful rendition. Love that they brought all six vocalists back on stage for this. Naturally, I'm quite fond of Wakana's version once again (not least of all because this song will always have a connection to Kalafina) but Yuriko does a fanstatic job of singing her parts, admittedly, she has much better control so her voice sounds very crisp and lovely. Joelle provides great support here and their voices blend well together.

forest: Never been a fan. I didn’t like it when Wakana sang it and I don’t like it now that Joelle sings it. It’s not a bad song at all and Joelle sounds fine to me but it’s just not my cup of tea. Next.

My long forgotten cloistered sleep: Now THIS on the other hand I have always loved. I still remember everyone hating Wakana's live version during YKL Vol.#9 but I enjoy it quite a lot. It's true that it's probably not the best she has ever sounded but her vocals here certainly don't warrant all the nasty comments she has received throughout the years for that performance. Of course, I am also obsessed with that WaKei combo!! And you know me, I have a weakness for "lalala"s so this has definitely always been among my favourite YKL songs. As for this performance, I think both Wakana and Joelle are trying are little too hard to emulate Emily Bindiger's timbre. I personally don't think Emily Bindiger has a particularly nice voice so if anyone tries to sound like her, it's always a slight downgrade in my opinion. I'll just say this, if you are one of the people who say that Wakana sounds like a chipmunk in her version, you'll have to say the same thing about Joelle(¬_¬) Long story short, I don't mind this version with Joelle and Keiko. Still very enjoyable. Will definitely be listening to it on repeat.

I swear: Probably one of my least favourite Keiko songs but this is a decent performance. I might even like this more than some of the previous live rendition since it's a bit more delicate(?) I think.

fiction: Another song I could live without…The chorus is solid but it's not one of those songs I'd ever actively listen to.

I reach for the sun: Forever sad that they made Joelle the lead of this song. Keiko does a better job in my opinion and I like the song quite a bit more than "I swear". Overall, the English section has probably been the weakest so far, at least for me. I actually ended up fast-forwarding through most of it.

MC: This MC is quite interesting since Yuki asks her singers to share a story of something they are taking a break from right now. To explain the background of this question, it's a reference to the title of this year's tour: Nihongo Fuin = Japanese Seal ("fuin" basically means to seal up something. You are excluding it/taking a break from it/quitting it/etc). Lino says that despite being a huge lover of the sea, she has been taking a break from going to the beach and swimming in the sea during this summer because it might affect her voice negatively. Yuki has a funny response to that because she says that most of her songs have never really had a summer vibe and actually don't work very well in a summer atmosphere but for some reason, they have ended up always holding their annual tour during the summer time. Keiko has stopped drinking her beloved lattes for the past three months to prioritise her water intake. Gladly, she has overcome the worst parts of quitting already and is getting used to water. Yuki admired her stoic nature. Yuriko would typically refrain from certain things in preparation for a live tour but this year she has completely forgotten about that. About two weeks ago, she decided to quit ice-cream but she only did it half-hardheartedly because it was so hot that she ended up eating it anyway. So yeah, this is a big fail and it's really a "story of NOT taking a break from something" XD Joelle has stopped waking up early. Usually, she is the type to rise together with the sun but in order to increase her sleeping hours, she will wake up later when she is on tour. A restful sleep will help her body heal up and improve her voice. rito has quit chewing gum (and stopped eating certain chewy foods such as squid) because it's bad for your jaw and facial muscles. Kaori has taken a break from watching the drama "Anithero" (for which YK is composing music, the main theme having been performed as the intro of this live). Seems like the song is haunting her a bit too much and the story is getting to her. So once the tour is over and she is no longer singing the song, she will have an easier time watching the episodes. Yuki agrees that the main theme is quite haunting. Especially when she hears one of the singers rehearsing in the dressing-room right before a performance. Eri doesn't really have anything to tell the audience but she and Yuki briefly talk about the difficulties of learning so many songs with coined words.

Gaia: Wow, what a lovely song. Instant like. Really adore Eri here!! Such gorgeous high notes.

Credens justitiam: What a great team-up with Keiko, Eri, Yuriko and Joelle. Eri sounds great together here with Keiko. Does Yuriko sound a bit off here? I don't know. Not 100% into some of her parts.

hepatica: First time actively listening to this song. Very beautiful and tender. I feel like some of Yuki's KnK work might have been inspired by this song. Some parts immediately made me think of "Seventh Heaven".

godsibb: Waaah! Yes!! Always a joy to listen to this song. Glad everyone is on stage for a powerful finale.

Alone: I knew I would love this Pandora Hearts medley. I always do and this one is no exception. Flawless start.

Bloody rabbit: Some squeaky parts at the beginning but overall, solid.

Contractor: OBSESSED. One word. Perfection. There's a reason this is the performance I'm using for this post. I'm forever a slave to Keiko's solo part XD. Also, Eri is such a queen here! So cool!

zodiacal sign: This is the song where you can really tell that they are taking great care of Kaori's condition. No strenuous movements at all. How funny is it to see Rie joining the girls in their little dance?! Cute!! Super fun performance as always.

open your heart: Ughh, I do not like this song at all. They did "Sweet Song"/"paradise regained" for most of the other performances. Would have killed to get either of those two instead of "open your heart". Obviously, "Sweet Song" would have been perfect. From what I heard, the final concert with Kaori in July had an amazing and heart-warming performance of "Sweet Song".

En.Prologue〜このとほかやわらかい: Wish I could grow to love this song. It deserves my love, I know it. But I just can't get into it. But hey, it's a cool performance, I can't deny that. During her solos, Kaori sounds a bit nasal in my opinion. Nothing that takes away from the performance but it's certainly noticeable (throughout the live to be honest - at least during the few songs where she has a substantial solo part. I think you can also hear it during the main MC. Either she had a minor cold that day or it's just a symptom of her pregnancy. Lowered nasal resonance is actually a very common thing for pregnant women.)

En.Parade: Beautiful. No notes.

En.蒼穹のファンファーレ: Solid. Not a huge fan of the song though.

[lanafofana]

Pumpkin Spiced Larceny

Pairing: Raphael x Tav (kinda), Shadowheart x Lae'zel (background)

Rating: Teen+ for swearing and implied heavy drinking and drunken behavior.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Modern College AU. Tav has a bit of a rough past but she's making strides on reforming the errant ways of her misspent youth. Until a friend in need sparks that familiar sticky fingered itch. It's fine though...It is!

Special love to @waterdeep-weavemoss @ladyofcrowsandcoffee Vi and Fangbanger for doing the brainwork of thinking up drinking game names 😘

AO3 Link to validate me with Kudos etc etc etc

Gratuitous self indulgent chicanery ahoy!

There was no getting around it. The pumpkin was fucking ugly. 

Tav stared at it, brows furrowed, frowning and trying to come up with something encouraging to say. Her companion sighed. 

“Just say it,” Shadowheart muttered, slumped in self pity on her side of the picnic bench. “It’s awful.” 

“No!” Tav blurted and then bit her lip when Shadowheart transferred her narrow eyed stare from the gourd in question to her. “I mean, it’s…” Adjectives, each more unhelpful than the last, flew through her mind. Hideous. Gross. Cursed. She tilted her head the other direction, hoping to stir a burst of inspiration from somewhere. A piece of pumpkin hanging on by sheer force of will abandoned its post and landed on the table with a wet splat. “It’s an honest effort.” 

Shadowheart gave her a disgusted look. “OH thanks!” She glared resentfully down at her project. “It’s a fucking piece of work. What am I gonna do?” With the dull handle of her blade she prodded the gaping maw of her savaged creation morosely. “The contest is in an hour and Lae’zel’s going to be mortified I submitted this in her name.” 

Lips pressed into a thin line Tav didn’t have a clue what to do either. “What was it supposed to be?” she asked delicately. 

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You can’t even tell? That’s just, ugh! Whatever, it’s supposed to be a mindflayer, from that game she’s always playing?” 

“Right.” Tav prodded a pile of pumpkin guts spilling out from the pumpkin monster’s maw, “and this?” 

“A brain?” 

“Okay,” said Tav gamely. Running through the options available to them in their limited time frame Tav puffed out her cheeks in thought before snapping her fingers. “Got it.” Her friend looked up hopefully. “Have you thought about hiding?” 

“Tav!” complained Shadowheart, threatening to throw a pile of juicy pumpkin guts at her face. 

Dodging away, Tav laughed. “I’m not joking! Your girlfriend scares me. But,” she added a hair more seriously. “Also, she like, loves you, right? Like love-love’s you. Like a lot. Have you considered she probably won’t even care?” 

Shadowheart scowled. “The prize is a year-pass to all those mixed martial arts fights they do at the colosseum. She’ll care.” 

Gathering up bits of pumpkin pulp into a pile Tav sighed and stepped away to throw it in the bin when an idea occurred to her and she froze. 

“We could…no. It’s a bad idea.” 

Shadowheart was out of her seat in an instant. “No, don’t do that, what were you going to say?” 

Gathering the abandoned implements of pumpkin carving Tav considered her words carefully. “It’s a really bad idea but…I think I know where we can steal one.” 

“Oh for the love of,” Shadowheart swore. “Is that always your first solution? Crime?” 

“Hey!” 

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. Well don’t stop there, go on, out with it. Where is this pumpkin and how do we not get caught and how do you know about it and how do you know–” 

“You remember that guy I told you about? Raphael?” 

Shadowheart’s hands come down hard on the picnic table with a loud smack. “The Dean’s son?” she hissed, horrified at the direction this is going. 

“Yeah,” confirms Tav grimly. She picked up the brutalized pumpkin and considered it with a frown before, deciding it wouldn't fit in the bin, putting it back down. “I know for a fact he carved one and I also know for a fact he won’t be submitting it.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“He’s been using one of the art department’s studios after hours, I saw him working on it the nights I had life drawing. And last night I saw him having a row with his father in the quad by the Admin annex.” A twinge of something curled in Tav’s gut uncomfortably at the memory. “Anyway, he’s definitely not in the running anymore. We just have to break into the studio he’s been using and bing bang boom.” 

“Alright,” Shadowheart said slowly. She didn't look particularly confident but turned the plan, such as it was, over in her mind a moment. “Alright, fine, let's do it. How hard could it be?” 

Tav gave her a dirty look. 

“What?” 

“You just had to say it, didn't you?” At her friend's blank stare Tav sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind, secure your Jack-O-Shit and let's go.” 

Pulling a cardboard box out from under the table Shadowheart dumped in her mangled project and the implements of carving she had used before another thought occurred to her, “How are we gonna break into the studio?”

Tapping away on her phone Tav glanced up with a smirk. “Don't worry about it, I know a guy.” 

Trailing after Tav, arms full of the awkward weight of her mistakes, Shadowheart tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible at that revelation. 

The pair hustled across campus to find Tav’s ‘contact’ leaned against the back of the Oskar Fevras Fine Arts building. When he heard them coming he looked up from his phone with a smile that was all teeth.

“Hello, my darling reprobates. Looking to spice up your Halloween with a little grand larceny?”

Shadowheart’s eyes nearly bugged out of her face but Tav only laughed, unconcerned. “Hardly, Astarion, we just need to get in.”

“Darling, I wasn't born yesterday,” Astarion chastised, giving them both a look over the frames of his trendy sunglasses. “The only reason someone wants to break into a studio is to steal. And since I'm reasonably certain no one at this institution has produced the next Mona Lisa I know you're not doing it for money. More's the pity.” He pocketed his phone and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, who are we ruining with this charming little heist?” 

“Plausible deniability,” sang Tav. “Keys, please! Besides, if we get caught and you're implicated, how could you ever manage to look at yourself in the mirror again?”

Astarion barked a laugh. “Very easily, I assure you. You're really not going to give me a teensy little clue?”

“It's for a good cause,” Tav assured him.

Astarion scoffed, disgusted. “Well there went my interest.” He heaved a long suffering sigh. “Very well.” Producing a ring of keys with a motion so fluid it looked like magic he pushed off from the wall and led them to the door. “Here you are then, please don't lose them. I am rather fond of being employed.” 

“Thanks, we won't be long.” 

Tav opened the door, ready to go in but Shadowheart hesitated. 

“You're not coming?”

“Aren't you adorable,” Astarion cooed. “Stick around and be spied at the scene of the crime? No, thank you, dear. I'll be at the costume contest. You can find me there whenever your sticky little fingers are done. Look for the vampire with the great hair. Ta, darlings.” 

The art building was a feat of modern art meets architecture. Its layout was similar to an old fortress with most of the building shaped around an open courtyard, a strange golden fountain at its center. The entire thing was a dismal dark grey stone that, while offering a sleek facade, leant itself to casting dramatic shadows no matter the time of day and it was through these shadows the pair passed on their quest. 

Empty of the usual bustle generated by the hundreds of students who normally traversed the place, their footsteps seemed to crack especially loudly against the stone beneath their feet, echoing off the imposing walls. 

“I’ve never been here before,” remarked Shadowheart, shifting her box onto her hip to dig her phone out of her bra. “It's very…prison-chic for an art department.” 

Tav snorted. “No need to wonder who influenced that decision. The school got the money from the Fevras’ family the year the Dean got appointed.” 

“Not a man fond of the arts I gather. Unfortunate for Raphael.”

“Yes, well. Fortunate for us because now you'll get a pumpkin that doesn't look like a chainsaw massacre victim. There's the entrance to the studio wing.” 

Somewhere the screech of a door swinging open and slamming shut rang out. The pair froze and stared at each other. 

“Probably just a professor,” whispered Tav. 

“We've got thirty minutes,” hissed Shadowheart, stuffing her phone back down her shirt and adjusting her grip on the box. 

The door was unlocked and mercifully quiet when they cracked it open to slip inside. The hallway they entered was long and dark with a single flickering light buzzing at the far end ominously. 

“Cozy,” they deadpanned in unison before catching each other's wry expressions and giggling. 

“The studio’s just around the corner up ahead, you stay here and keep watch.” Tav took the box from Shadowheart. “Text me if you need me, I won't take long.” 

So saying Tav moved down the hallway confidently, ignoring the way the empty windows on either side of her seemed to peer like glassy black eyes in the dark liminal space. 

Making a sharp right at the end of the hall she beelined for the door she sought, pulse kicking up a notch in her thrill for the goal. Setting the box at her feet Tav fiddled with the ring of keys, belatedly realizing that none of them were even a little bit helpfully labeled. 

“Damnit, Astarion,” she swore, trying one and then another. 

There had to be at least fifty keys, if she tried them all it was going to take forever. Swearing up a storm under her breath Tav knelt on the floor to get a better look at the shape of the keyhole and compare the multitude of options she still had to get through. Leaning a little to the side to try to catch the light from the flickering bulb that was buzzing in her peripheral, her knee hit the cardboard box and the tinkle of metal drew her attention. 

“Now there's a thought,” Tav reached into the box and withdrew a long thin knife with a speculative look in her eye. She’d jammed it in the keyhole and begun fiddling with it in earnest when her pocket buzzed. 

“Twenty minutes,” she was tersely informed. “What is taking so long?”

“We got a problem, Shads, the keys aren't labeled and there’s a million of them to go through.” 

“Hells! Well, you used to steal shit all the time right? Can you, I don't know, just pick the lock?”

“First of all, how criminal do you think my history is? Hurtful, honestly.” The lock clicked open and she got to her feet with relief. “Second of all, way ahead of you.”

“You.” 

Tav whirled around, her stomach doing an impressive job at jumping for her throat before plummeting clear down to her toes. 

Raphael, dressed to impress in an outfit that looked pulled right off a runway, his hair styled to within an inch of its life, stood barely two feet away, glaring down his nose at her. 

“Tav? What was that?” Shadowheart’s tinny voice seemed too loud in the silence. 

“Nothing!” It was hard to say what was moving faster, Tav’s racing heart or her mind. “Listen, you go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” Tav disconnected the call before her friend could respond.

In the flickering light Raphael’s brown eyes looked black and menacing. When he spoke, his aristocratic voice was cold with fury. “What,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you think you're doing?” 

While Tav grappled with how to answer that question his eyes caught on the box at her feet. Something strange crossed his face that the dim lighting made impossible to read. 

“What–” 

“I came for your pumpkin.” Tav wanted to swallow the words back as soon as they were out but a half formed idea had hatched in the back of her mind and she latched onto it with both hands. “For the pumpkin contest.”

Raphael was staring at her incredulously which was a step up from murderous rage in her estimation so she plowed on. 

“I want to make a deal with you.” 

That had certainly snared his attention. The Dean's son he may have been but Raphael's deals were legendary. Avoiding expulsion, passing a class you were otherwise guaranteed to tank, even acquiring merits of distinction you were in no way entitled to; the rising star of the drama department could arrange it all. For a price. 

Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he looked from her to the mauled pumpkin peeking out from the box. “Usually, I’m the one offering a deal.” 

“That wasn't a no.”

He sneered. “Careful, thief. I could still call campus security. And wouldn't admissions love to hear how the infamous Taverna Featherfall had fallen back on old habits?”

Her pulse was pounding so hard she thought she might burst a vein. He knew her name? Worse still, he knew her history? How? Why?

“Or we could make a deal,” somehow her voice was not as thready as her nerves. “And forget this whole thing happened.” 

Scoffing, he raised a brow. “And what could you possibly have that I want?” 

That was, unfortunately, a very good point. Her burgeoning skill as an artist notwithstanding she was still just a poor student, subsisting on ramen and rice. So what did one offer the Devil of Dramatic Arts who had everything? Almost everything. Inspiration never tasted so sweet.

“I know about your fight with your father.”

His eyes immediately shuttered and he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling security.”

Lunging forward Tav’s hands closed around the device before he could do so much as turn the screen on. 

“Get off–”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m not trying to get involved in your weird family dynamics or anything but you don't seem like the type to just roll over and do what you're told.”

Raphael still looked furious but he'd stopped struggling for control of his phone. Where her fingers were locked around his, his skin burned hot. 

“I’ve seen you working on it for days, so let me submit your pumpkin, he'll definitely recognize it's your work. When it wins, because we both know it will, you'll have the satisfaction of proving him wrong.”

Jaw tight Raphael looked away from her, turning the idea around in his head. She’d never been this close to him before and he smelled good. Cherries, coffee, and the distinctive smoke of clove cigarettes. 

“I think not,” he said at last and Tav’s dread soared. She wasn't just letting her friend down, Raphael could get her expelled. “You’ll submit the pumpkin in my name.” His eyes, when they met hers, were intense. 

“But,” she began. 

“Think carefully, little thief.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”

“Besides the dubious honor of remaining an enrolled student at this institution?” Tav scowled but if anything that only seemed to charm him. “The winnings, presumably your goal from the start, are yours.” 

“Deal,” she said quickly, floored this entire exchange was working in her favor. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed to life. “Fuck, the contest.” 

Shaking off her loosened grip Raphael checked the time on his own watch before briskly pushing past her into the unlocked studio. 

The pumpkin he had carved was a masterwork of the craft. Devils cavorted with fiendish glee, the hellish scene embellished with intricate borders of fantastical hellfire. He'd added paint, red and black, since she’d last spied it and applied what looked like actual gold leafing for a dramatic finish. 

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the minute details hungrily. It was ludicrously unfair he should be as talented at visual arts as he was at performance. 

Taking Shadowheart’s attempt at carving out of the box to make space for his, Raphael preened. “Tick tock, little thief, you're running rather short on time.” 

“You aren't coming?”

Raphael’s disdain was an ugly twist on his beautiful face. “Why would I need a jumped up little nobody like you to submit my pumpkin if I could do it myself?” 

She hadn't actually given it any consideration but now she squinted at him in confusion. His face tightened. “My father has taken steps to ensure I am ‘more appropriately occupied’ for the duration of the little festival.” 

Tav frowned in sympathy. 

“Which is why you'll be the one to accept when I am, as you say, inevitably crowned the victor.”

The sympathy fractured sharply. “I’m what?” 

“You want the prize don't you?” 

Godsdammit she was going to kill Shadowheart. “Fine,” she grit out. Raphael smiled. 

Pumpkin in hand and the clock winding down Tav hustled out of the art building, phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear. 

“Where are you?” Shadowheart demanded when she answered. “They're about to start judging!”

“I have good news and bad news but then more good news after that.”

“Tav, we do not have time for–”

“I have the pumpkin and I’m en route. See? Good news! Bad news, I need you to change the entrant name on the participant form to Raphael Cania.” Shadowheart made a noise but Tav plowed on, “but the prize is still all yours if –when– we win.” Reaching the edge of the mini Harvest festival set up behind the greenhouses Tav paused to catch her breath. “I'm close, change the name, I’ll see you in a second.” 

“Tav!” 

Disconnecting the call, Tav craned her neck to get a lock on where the pumpkin carving contest was being held. The expanse of carefully maintained lawn, ubiquitously dubbed “the green” was a hive of autumnal aesthetic activity. Students and professors alike milled around homemade stands that offered caramel apples and on theme activities like ‘gourd bowling’ and face painting. 

Weaving through the crowd the air smelled ripe with hay, apple pie, and kettle corn. 

“Tav! Over here!” 

Shadowheart, flanked by their friends Karlach and Wyll, burst through a gap in the swarm of bodies. Taking the pumpkin and passing it off to Karlach Shadowheart rounded on her friend critically. 

“We're going to have to talk about this habit of yours of hanging up on me. What happened?” 

Tav followed her friends to the tent where everyone's pumpkin carvings were being displayed and judged and sank onto a decorative hay bale with a groan. “Raphael.”

“He caught you?” Wyll’s eyebrows were arched up to his hairline. “Helm Almighty!”

“He did,” confirmed Tav. “We made a deal.” 

Her friends groaned in unison.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Don't be so dramatic. It’s not like I had to sell my soul or anything.” She coughed. “Now who’s up for a round of ‘Which Witch is Which’?” 

“They haven't finished setting it up,” said Shadowheart. “Let’s start with ‘Were of the Dog’.”

“You only want to start there cause they're serving Hallowine,” accused Wyll with a laugh. “You'll be useless for the rest of the night.” 

Shadowheart stuck out her tongue but didn't deny it. 

Karlach reappeared from the Jack-O-Lantern tent. “Judging results should be announced in an hour.” She smacked her hands together and rubbed them with maniacal glee. “Now, who am I drinking under the table? Let’s start with Infernal Imbibing!”

For the next hour the troupe of friends managed to hit every single drinking game challenge with mixed success. As predicted, stomach sloshing with the mulled cider dubbed ‘Hallowine’ Shadowheart was quickly relegated to the sidelines to offer her particular brand of acerbic constructive criticism to their opponents. 

“It's heckling,” deadpanned Tav, vision swimming a bit after winning a round at ‘Graveyard’. 

“It's unethical,” tried Wyll, leaning heavily on Karlach’s shoulder after being trounced thoroughly in ‘Spectator, Spirits and Spooks’. 

“It’s Hallowfest!” Cheered Karlach, wearing a lopsided paper crown she'd picked up from the booth running the tarot card drinking game ‘Kings’. 

“It is time to drink water,” said Lae’zel, only moderately successful at keeping her stoically stern expression in place when she was swarmed by her drunk friends. “They are announcing the winners of the Jack-O–”

“Shit!” Tav staggered before regaining her balance and beelining for the tent in question. 

With perfect timing Tav burst into the tent just as the announcer was declaring Raphael’s victory. Shoving her way past the small throng of participants she reached the podium on the tiny makeshift stage and collected her reward to the resounding cheers of her group of fools. 

“Miss Featherfall,” a deep voice growled behind her that sent a bolt of ice straight through her chest. 

“Dean Cania,” she greeted, blood and alcohol pounding so fast through her veins she could feel her heartbeat in her teeth. 

“I thought I was well acquainted with all my son's closest friends.” The smile that curved his mouth wasn't kind. “Imagine my surprise then, when it was not Haarlep nor Korrilla that arrived to submit his little art project and collect the reward in his absence.”

“And what a regrettable absence it is,” said Tav, riled out of her drunken complacency with the aura of threat that oozed from the Dean. “Wouldn't you say, sir?”

“Regrettable,” he sounded amused. “You young people do have such opinions. A word of advice, Miss Featherfall, tread carefully where my son is concerned.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're a clever girl,” the words on his tongue sounded anything but complimentary. “You'll figure it out.”

Without another word or glance the Dean turned and left.

“What was that about?” Karlach sounded three seconds away from committing a violent crime.

Shaking her head with a helpless shrug Tav didn't have an answer. Whatever she may have witnessed of the fight between Raphael and his father the other night she wondered if it was just the tip of the iceberg. “Shads,” she said, waving the prized certificate. “I believe you have a girlfriend to woo.”

“Cheers,” Shadowheart squeezed her in a tight hug, “Give me the keys, I’ll find Astarion for you.”

“Gale texted and said they're finally opening the ‘Which Witch is Witch’, Wyll and I are headed over, you coming?”

Tav was about to agree when she caught the faint scent of cherries and clove. “I’ll just be a sec, I’m gonna see what to do about the pumpkin you guys go ahead.”

Her friends dispersed and Tav wandered her way through the emptying tent to where the carved pumpkins were arranged in a neat row on a line of tables.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, sidling up to a figure in a sharp suit, distinctive features obscured with a fedora and mask. Inspecting his outfit a little more she huffed a laugh, “clean up at the costume contest too, Al Capone?”

Raphael tilted his head, still staring at his carved pumpkin. “Where would Bonnie be without her Clyde?”

Tav’s stomach flipped in an annoying way. Reminding herself he was probably just making sure she did as they agreed upon rang hollow when she remembered the winners of the festival contests were being published in the school paper.

“Right. Well,” she coughed. “Met your father.”

Raphael hummed.

“Not a very warm man.”

For some reason Raphael found this immensely funny and he laughed. “No,” he agreed. “That he is not.”

“Well anyway,” she said, turning to go. “Congratulations on your win. Whatever that means to you.”

Raphael didn't answer but turned his stare from the gourd in question to pin her in place. Behind the mask his eyes glittered.

The pull of her insatiable curiosity felt like it was burning a hole in her belly. “Why are you here, Raphael?”

“Why are you?”

I smelled your cologne. “Just wanted another look at the award winning Jack-O-Lantern. Who knew a performance artist could be so skilled with his hands.” She leered at him but Raphael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Life is a stage, wouldn't it follow that every action was a performance?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And any performance worth doing is worth doing exceptionally.”

“And a philosophizer too? My my. You're welcome by the way.”

“For?”

“Just because I benefited doesn't mean I didn't also do you a favor here.”

Scoffing Raphael removed his mask to give her a sardonic look. “I don't thank people for completing deals as agreed upon.”

“I don't think you're in the habit of thanking anyone. Deal or not.”

“An astute assumption.”

“Then it's a good thing I’m here to bully that stick out of your ass. Get it? Because ass-umption? Makes an ass–”

Raphael peered at her closely. “You're drunk.”

“C’mon, just a teensy little thank you?”

“No.”

“Well then what's my prize? You got some kind of mind game power play win over your father, Shads got to spoil her scary girlfriend, and Lae’zel got the MMA season pass of the, um, season,” she finished lamely. Frowning down at her hands she noticed a loose thread and picked at it.

A sigh from her companion drew her attention and this time when she looked up into his face Tav was struck by how strange he looked. A solitary figure backlit by the glow of a couple dozen flickering artificial candles, pumpkins with wide open maws leering at her from his shadow. If it was anyone else she might have called him sad or tired but all she could think was how ethereal he looked surrounded by fire.

Too much Hallowine, she thought to herself, dragging her dry tongue along her teeth.

Turning to leave, Tav didn't expect Raphael's hand, warm and large, to snag hers from where it worried the loose thread of her jacket.

Nor did she anticipate when that same hand tugged her close, to the source of the decadent scent of cherry and coffee cologne.

“What prize would suit my hero in shining armor then?” Raphael’s voice was dark and smooth as chocolate. Tav’s lungs stuttered and stalled in her chest.

Later Tav wouldn't be able to say who had moved first, her alcohol soaked brain locking away those semantics from even herself. But she would forever recall, with absolute clarity, that Raphael’s eyes had reflected the same startled surprise she had felt a second before their lips had met.

He kissed like an actor, which wasn't to say he was necessarily bad, though only because she was, in general, a magnanimously generous person. No, he kissed like he’d been stage directed through it. His head was at a strange angle, his hands on her face felt awkward and his lips felt stiff. For the outside observer it was probably grade A entertainment.

Locking her hands around his wrists and tugging them down to her waist, she felt a rush of something hot spark alive at the noise he made in the back of his throat. Sliding one hand back up his chest, over the wild gallop of his runaway pulse in his neck, to grasp his chin, Tav tugged him into an angle that allowed her to slide her tongue along his with ease. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey.

Tiamat’s Deck of Many Things, her brain supplied innocuously. At least if he rolled the dice at that drinking game she should consider herself lucky he didn't taste of pickle juice.

When they parted it was difficult to tell who was more dazed.

Adjusting his fedora Raphael gave her an intense look before gently pushing her away. The place where his hands had rested on her hips felt cold in the absence of his touch. “Have a good evening, Taverna. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Tav swayed for a moment before stepping away, the weird moment shattering under his smug gaze. An affectation of cool stoicism widened the trench between them once more.

Leaving the tent, she could have sworn she heard a low voice murmur, “thank you,” but when she glanced back he was gone.

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