#the fact that all of it is so intuitive and familiar to him that he can ALMOST grasp it but never enough to make it hurt less is just *mwah

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[tea-n-ink]

Homesickness is where the heart is

[stunie]

“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”

WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.

filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”

sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33

HAYATO SUO.

in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.

you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.

you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.

the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.

“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.

as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?

he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.

you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.

but you had no idea he was like this.

“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.

he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.

there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?

it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.

“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”

“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”

“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”

suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.

none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.

“let’s not do that again, okay?”

KAJI REN.

you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.

it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.

‘the best fried octopus you’ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.

it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.

you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.

kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.

he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.

he didn’t hear any of it.

kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”

and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.

kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”

you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”

his chest feels tight.

kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.

he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.

he truly had no idea.

“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”

“i was scared too, kaji.”

the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.

“you can get on.”

even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.

“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.

“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”

NIREI AKIHIKO.

nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.

he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.

“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.

he jolts when you laugh a bit.

“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”

it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.

“let me see.”

he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”

the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.

“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“i-i didn’t know you were there!”

sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.

he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.

sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”

he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.

it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.

“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”

it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”

his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.

he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.

“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”

sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”

TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)

“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.

your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.

“you listenin’?”

you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.

“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”

and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.

“..like this?”

he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”

and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.

“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.

it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.

“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”

“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”

his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.

and he’s looking right at you.

“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“when did you take that?!”

your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.

“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”

“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”

“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.

you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.

his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.

“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.

no blood. just a lot of pain.

“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.

“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”

your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.

it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.

“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”

a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”

your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”

the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”

you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”

“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"

he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.

[death---dealer]

Courting Imagines. ( Caesar x Reader, POTA. )

I'm a romantic at heart leave me alone. How did this end up being 6K+ words? Idk, but enjoy Next on this list for this series ( Courting ): Noa and Blue Eyes ( Potentially open to other characters, if you guys wanted! )

Does not know he’s actually courting you until it is brought to his attention by Maurice one slow afternoon. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

The two of them sitting and biding time, there’s not much to get done fortunately and Caesar is allowed a solemn downtime to rest and recoup after the chaos that had been happening recently as far as the influx of Humans stumbling upon the Colony and threatening them. As great as he was to lead his people, he wanted moments like this on occasion where he wasn’t being torn in thirteen different directions. Koba, Blue Eyes, Rocket, Ash, all having thoughts, all encompassing to Caesar who listened so intently to each of their concerns, and even the concerns of those outside of his council.

His gaze? Subsequently right on you as you were helping Lake rally in the young Apes into a circle. You had been blessed with time to spend with them for reading and learning, sharing the opportunity with Maurice when the attention was made that you were able to communicate to them to the point of understanding. Caesar paused when you lifted up a small Chimpanzee baby, giving himself a small huff as they climbed along your shoulder blades and began digging into your hair as you were talking. What about? Caesar could not hear but was more than entranced at watching your mouth form words.

Quietly, he drifted his eyes back forward to stare at the bonfire pensively. There was always a sense of pride that rocketed through his entire being at the notion that his people were free and prospering, but this time, he felt a bit more of an aggressive edge to the thought when you were added to the equation. It wasn’t an unsavory feeling, in fact, it was quite the opposite and Caesar preemptively accepted the lingerance, able to see your face when he closed his eyes.

You’d begun spending much more time together, almost all his days when he wasn’t thrusted into situations that beckoned his full attention were spent with you. Listening to you talk about Humanity, always a great perspective to Caesar who wrote off his eager curiosities about you as being the same as his curiosities for humanity as a whole. You’d gone fishing together, hunting on one occasion which he was partial to because you ultimately rode on the back of his horse and your entire body pressed against his own, you spent later evenings sitting by the fire in either silence or playful banter, sometimes even managing to get him to crack a smile or release a memory about his childhood with Humans.

He took silent pleasures when you would grasp his arm in laughter as you threw your head back in a laugh, green eyes lingering just a second too long on your exposed jugular, or when you would grasp at his hands when talking. All so Human, all so familiar to him but he wanted more deep down. Caesar especially liked it when you and he would spend time together and he was consciously aware that the rest of his Colony could smell his scent radiating from your body from the mere proximity you had to him. There was an animalistic prickle on his ears if he rested on that thought too long.

Maurice, attentive and intuitive to Caesar’s body language and thoughts, chittered silently to himself and that captivated the Ape King to break his glance on the fire. He had been in a deeply meditative state about you, somewhat grateful to the Orangutan otherwise Caesar was going to waste the entire afternoon recollecting the moments he had with you out of obsession to pick apart at the smaller details of them.

A great pass time for a King who loved strategy.

“Good,” Caesar spoke first and nodded his head in the direction of Lake, primarily you but he covered his tracks with the Ape his son had an acutely oblivious connection to, “She can take part of your duty.”

Maurice followed Caesar’s gaze and nodded in agreement, knowing fully well what he was alluding to without any more context, ‘She is smart.’ He signed, ‘Compassionate, would make for a great mate.’

Caesar scoffed at that, picking up a rock and throwing it mindlessly into the fire in front of him, his eyes sliding to you every few seconds. He’d linger only as long as he felt necessary, as long as no one else took notice. The thrown rock, a deflection of sorts, he shuffled back and looked at his wise friend, green eyes focused and determined. His gaze asked ‘what do you mean?’, almost grateful in a way that he didn't need to verbalize for Maurice for him to understand the expressive nature of Caesar’s brow ridge arched in questioning.

The large ape continued and chided Caesar, ‘You have considered that as a possibility, have you not?’

“Human as mate?” Caesar felt like his breath got caught in his chest as his voice came tumbling out in a deep baritone. Enriching, he would imagine, if he brought his face to the shell of your ear and whispered against it. ‘Distraction,’ Caesar signed to Maurice, ‘She….’ He hesitated his hands before choosing words, finding them a bit easier now to express instead of putting more effort into sign language. “Helps me forget what happened before.”

Maurice understood that. Cornelia, always such a sore point to bring up, especially when it was around both Caesar or Blue Eyes. She had passed away from complications after Blue Eyes was born and Caesar vowed to himself to never gravitate towards another, but in a bid to be less lonely in the scape of his longer life, he found himself drawn to you despite his best efforts.

‘Cornelia would understand,” Maurice was gentle with his actioned words, rumbling deep in his chest to Caesar who only nodded in minor agreement. ‘She would want your happiness. I can see it already, the way you look at her.’ Maurice turned his small green eyes in the direction of you and Caesar was prone to follow. He was captivated at you, how you were expressing with your arms now, two Chimpanzee babies cradling themselves along your shoulders now instead of the one he had seen climbing before.

Caesar broke away from that quickly and turned to look off in the opposite direction, ‘Just a distraction.’ He signed fervently.

Maurice, letting out a small sigh let his eyes rest on you for a few moments longer, knowing fully well that Caesar, as subtle as he tried to move and angle himself, was looking at you again, though this time the emotions of his eyes altered. They were almost softened, but the ridge of his brow stayed hard. Maurice knew better - Maurice could see the shifts in Caesar. It was only a matter of time until the Ape King came to the same realization.

Being brought to have a meal with him for the first time. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Being escorted up the trail that landed where the Royal Ape family sat was not on your bingo-card for the timid Summer evening you found yourself swimming through. There were two Apes with you - Luca, who had to have been the definition of gentle giant and became a quick friend to you during your time at the Colony and Rocket, Caesar’s right hand man who had to be tied for that position with Maurice. You smiled graciously as they dropped you off at the perched ledge, your feet finding it difficult to move forward when you finally rested your gaze on the King himself. The pure intensity of his green gaze always left you feeling melted and soldered to the very ground you were standing on.

He wasn’t alone and you were quick to break your gawk to flicker your eyes to Blue Eyes, who in his reserved demeanor, only looked at you curiously and popped a berry into his mouth rather reluctantly. The smile you gave him was gentle, understanding. You’d be hesitant of a species you had never met just like he was. He had every right and it was never taken as an offense.

“I-I was told you wanted to see me.” You laughed, trying to cover up the nerves but you knew that Caesar was more than well aware of them based on the sweat radiating off your palms and forehead.

Silence, he just looked at you and captivated your gaze in a dance. It was hard not to look at him, his entire self, the way his shoulders carried his weight, the way his brow sat so sternly against the rest of his features, a permanent scowl always encasing the wrinkled lines along his cheeks, especially under his eyes. Caesar was an experience himself, in every sense of the word and you flexed your hand wanting nothing more than to know what his fur felt like.

He was sitting next to his son, picking up a fresh bowl of what looked like the Elk that had been caught in the hunt earlier in the day and a handful of select berries with a splash of roasted seeds. Your stomach churned at the sight, mouth suddenly dripping as it dawned upon you just how hungry you were.

The bowl slid your way along the slick rock and rattled right at your feet. You looked at it, and then at Caesar and then back at the food. You were about to open your mouth in protest, but Caesar spoke first, that delicious tone he used more than enough to stave off your hunger for days.

“Join.”

Stumbling forward, you were quicker than you wanted to be to grasp the bowl, feeling a bit dizzy when you stood with it in your hand, “Y-- You want me to join you up here? I don’t know, Caesar. Koba’s gonna---”

“Will take care of Koba, join.” Caesar assured you and tentatively put some seeds into his mouth. The crunching of his teeth against them enlightened your senses to how powerful of a jaw he really had and the floating notion that he could rip your limbs off one by one with them was alluring to dive into. Morbidly, you just wanted to know what it felt like. Instead, you felt encased in synthetic movement as you drifted towards him, like he was the source of all gravity, and sat cautiously down.

Cross legged, you placed your own bowl in your lap and set your eyes on the large Ape next to you, then to Blue Eyes who seemed equally curious at his Fathers choice of dinner guest, and then back to Caesar again. Swallowing softly, he did not meet your glance. Instead, silence fell over the two of you as he continued to eat, prompting Blue Eyes to do the same. It looked good, no doubt.

You felt hungry, but all of a sudden, all your eyes wanted to feast on was Caesar. The rise and fall of his shoulders as he moved through his own food, obviously picking out what he liked best from the assortment and bringing them to his lips. You paused there, watching as he placed a berry against them as if in contemplation, the juicy nature speaking wonders as a drip fell onto his chin as he turned towards you slowly. Swallowing, you looked down at your bowl in a bid that maybe he hadn’t seen you staring at him and pretended to be rather interested in the seeds you played around with with your pointer finger.

“Not… hungry?” He finally broke the silence that was radiating through the air like a daft bullet, looking at you from his periphery. The shaking of your hand was more than indicative, the flushed appearance of your cheeks made Caesar want to pick you up right then and trail to the nest. But, reservation was preserved, as it so often did.

“Starving.” You finally admitted with a bashful smile and licked your lips. “Don’t know where to start.”

“Berries are good.” Caesar commented hap-hazardly, delving a bit into the small talk that he knew Humans enjoyed, knew you enjoyed because it drew on your most basic instinct of belonging. He wanted that - for you to feel like you belonged, in fact, that was the entire basis of getting you to come join him for a meal. Just one, and if he felt it went well, there would be another, and then another.

You nodded at that. Berries are good. So, that’s where you started as you picked between them and placed a blueberry in your mouth, Caesar watching with great interest from between the focus on his own food and the floating eyes from his son as you placed it on the tip of your tongue first before bringing it into your mouth with a delectable chew.

Caesar giving you gifts/tokens. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It had been an incredibly long day - and it was one of those days where when one thing went wrong, the dominos began to fall and everything was coated in sour feelings. You had bumped your forehead rolling out of your hut this morning, forgetting that the doorway was smaller than your height, understandably so. Apes often walked on all fours, why would they need a doorway that gave enough clearance for an upright human?

The only place with that here was Caesar’s nest, perched high above the rest. It gave a sense of coziness, until you rammed your head against it. Every feeling in your body from that moment onwards just told you to stay home, that you’d be less of a detriment there than out with the hunt party that was departing at dawn. There was no sustenance to eat- you ended up at the Colony bonfire for breakfast too late. Only a few lingering berries remained, maybe an apple that had a bite taken out of it. Your horse refused to comply with your commands, almost biting your fingers off when you brushed your fingers a bit too close to their muzzle and looking at that now in self-reflection, she probably hated that you were in such a downward mood and sensed to play off of it and lastly, you had stepped in a puddle and the worn nature of your boots caused water to seep and linger on the wool socks you had on.

Grunting quietly to yourself as you trailed back towards your small home after arriving back from the hunt was more egregious; you just felt incredibly sore from sitting on your horse for most of the day, watching as the Apes embarked on a hunt. The grace of which you had never seen. They took to the skies from the trees, getting the advantage of pure silence as they were able to sign amongst each other when prey was spotted. They took to the ground, either on foot or on horseback, all encased in the vivid whitescape of their paint, some adornments of blue and red splashed against the most prestigious.

Caesar’s was red, the detailing on his face and down the center of his chest caught your attention right away but you tried not to linger too adamantly on that and figured you’d have time to obsess alone. And alone you were for most of the day. It was slow on your part- you found no human remnants to scour goods from, another thing to go wrong on a day that you didn't even want to be out of bed for.

Bringing a hand up, you lightly rested it against your shoulder and sighed to yourself, tendering the skin at the base of your neck with the pads of your fingers. Your horse had been given to Luca to place in the paddock, he must have sensed the sort of day it was from the way you dismounted the animal and grumpily handed him the reins. He did not say anything to you, but the kindness of his eyes spoke wonders as you had given him a slight smile before trailing off on your way. You just wanted to sleep and nothing more and your hut was only a few more paces away. The sweet victory of the idyllic nature of your nest was taunting you with its call. The warm animal pelts you had taken in, the knitted tight branches that were surprisingly buoyant when you shifted in your sleep. All things you wanted, all things you needed.

Your feet came to a slow stop against the slick rock underfoot as you rounded the corner towards your own hut, happily situated on the ground rather than floating up-above, as was the preference with Apes. Eyes widening in surprise at the basket in front of the entryway, you narrowed your gaze on it as you got closer, a bit afraid that perhaps Koba was playing a practical ( or cruel ) joke on you.

Upon further inspection with your eyes as you bent down to look at the contents, you deemed it safe and drove your fingers down to see what was in it. It was a simple wicker basket, but it wasn’t made by an Ape - you could tell from the fabrication and the glue that was holding some pieces together. Very obviously human, the Apes made better items than this. You imagined that, the idea of things like this being so mass-produced only ten years ago before the Flu took that away.

Lips parted as your fingers scaled the items in the basket and you were able to properly see what was inside, you felt a rather uncomfortable sensation lifting against your spine, upwards towards the base of your neck and then back downwards. There were… Human things in the basket. All human things. All things you enjoyed, a few bars of soap that were actually encased in original packaging, rare in this society. You looked at them, feeling tears hit the back of your eyes. Shampoo, conditioner. All things Apes wouldn’t understand, the vain essence of humanity holding and rearing its ugly head right against your chest at the fact that you had sorely missed these luxuries and you were going to savor them as long as you could. The last item - incredibly personal in nature.

Tampons.

You picked them up with vicious intent and peeled the box open. It was nearly full and you tilted your head back in pure relief, knowing that you could alternate between them and the cloths you had to be forced to use and re-wash when that time of the month came. There was only one Ape who had a vivid understanding of what it was used for which gave away the suspense of figuring out who had set the items out for you. These were given to you from the King himself; Caesar.

Jaw clenching tightly, you placed all the items back into the basket and lifted yourself up with the basket in tow as a few tears slid down from your eyes, across the barren nature of your cold cheeks and off the drop of your chin. You had no idea where he got ahold of these items, when he had split away from the pack he so often found himself surrounded by to go searching, but you were so incredibly grateful for them, the knowledge that you were able to hold onto a bit of yourself from before the Flu more evident now than ever.

Caesar paced himself on all fours, two or three meters away from you between the trees to make sure you got the items. There was no way for you to not deduce he was the one, there was just the added touch of assurance that you got the items that he was worried more about. He did see you look out, and for a split second, he thought his cover had been blown as you appeared to look right at him, but the nature of his fur catapulted him into a more camouflaged nature and he watched contently as you drifted into the hut you had made your home, arms full of the goods he was able to supply.

Caesar felt obscenely proud and selfishly so at the idea that these things would rocket him on your potential list of suitors. If you had one. If he oh so happened to even be included.

Caesar finally admitting to you his intentions / Forehead Touching for the first time. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It was a remarkably clear day, the thought was only spurred by the sun that drifted downwards and captivated against the skin of your shoulders deliciously. Geographically, you were burdened with many foggy days, many days where the sun could not peek its head out from behind the clouds. But today? Not a problem as you tilted your head back and drew a deep breath in with shut eyes. The way your body moved, the rounded entrancement of your chest, exposed as you were only wearing a light t-shirt, caught the attention of Caesar right away.

He had been so used to the fall and winter months where you were layered beyond belief - an undershirt, over shirt, long sleeve shirt, sweater and jacket. So many layers for him to dismantle when he was left to his own devices in a certain mood. Seeing you like this, the caress of your body against the thin-fabric of the worn out shirt was more than a sight to behold for the Ape next to you. There was a symbol faded against the fabric, lost to time Caesar figured.

The meadow you had so graciously decided to stop and have lunch at on your way back to the Colony from a day spent scouring some human desolations was open for what seemed like miles on all sides. It was happily flushed with lush green grass, dandelions that were just now beginning their transformations from yellow to a pillowing white, wild flowers sprung in patches against your forearms as you rested back against them in a bid to get more sun to soak into your pores. Caesar, as diligent as ever, looked down at you with eyes that could rival the shrubbery in color and elegance.

You smiled at him briefly, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes, your arm grazed along his as you put yourself into position to look up at him without blinding, the rest of your weight fell onto your one supporting forearm. “Seems like so long ago,” That was softly said, as soft as the breeze that touched the most delicate flowers and rattled their petals.

Caesar couldn’t look away from you, could not focus on anything but the way you were speaking to him, your eyes unable to be detected from behind the shielded nature of your outstretched arm and he was left with the delectation of your lower face, your jaw which he wanted nothing more than to bite along, your mouth which he wanted nothing more than to urge and please in a bid for you to say his name. “The days when the sun didn't stop.”

He knew what you were alluding to. The Rise itself and the infraction that humans had to associate that with the ever encompassing wilderness that took its hollow place. There was no argument to be made from Caesar though, the sun did seem to shine so endlessly in the memories he had of his human life.

“Do you… think about them often?”

Your eyes shut and you rested your head back onto the ground in contemplation. It was always a loaded question from Caesar. He asked you when he felt you were being reminded of that time and the answer always depended on how you felt in those moments. Sometimes it was a very flat and honest ‘yes’, sometimes it was a more forlorn and yearned ‘no’, and sometimes? There wasn’t any verbal answer and you just hummed a response, not wanting to answer because there was nothing to truly answer.

You would always think about them, sure, but that did not mean you missed the all encompassing position it was to be a human. The cruelty far outreached the good in most cases and it left an incredibly guilt-ridden emotion to linger along the base of your neck, like a pulled muscle you couldn’t tenderize back into compliance.

“Don’t you?” You finally retorted, Caesar drawn back at the action in your voice. You hadn’t ever answered his posed question like that before.

“Used to a lot,” He admitted without hesitance, “Soon after finding the Woods, establishing,” Caesar gestured broadly. He was talking about the Colony itself. “Thought of them a lot.”

You drew into his words with such passion, reaching for anything he was willing to tell you about that time in his life and how it led him to this moment. Taking a deep breath into your lungs, you savored the smell of honeysuckle mixing with Caesar’s waft, so crisp like the river water but musky like the ground of the woods after a clear rain. Consequentially, when you finally looked up at him and caught eyes, yours were widely dilated from the pure draw of his essence. “Did it hurt to leave them?”

Caesar seemed to contemplate that for more than a moment, his head tilting to the side and brows relaxing with the thoughts running through his strategic mind. How you wanted to bury yourself into his brain just to capture a glimpse of his outrageously confident and skilled thought-process. It still rattled you to your core this day when you thought about it for too long.

“Yes.”

A strict admittance, but you expected nothing less from him. “I thought… it would kill me.” Pushing yourself into a seated position instead of resting on your back, your gaze fell on the King and you found yourself tracing the smoothened lines under his eyes and how they always appeared to make his expression sad and tired. Maybe he was, you had no way to know unless he explicitly told you how he was feeling. Rare in and of itself.

“But, then… Cornelia… My… Son…” He nodded to himself and shut his green eyes in a contemplative melancholy, almost hypnotic state like the memories he was remembering where pulling his entire soul back to the moments they happened. “I would not be here had… had I not left… them behind. We… Ape...” There was a sudden flicker of heat in his gaze when he opened his eyelids and looked towards you, captivating your view with pure and undiluted strength and confidence in his answers.

“Would not be here. All… I have ever wanted,” He was marked with emboldened taste as he raised a hand to place it against your cheek. Not the first time you had him touch you, though certainly it was the first time he put intentional thought and provocation behind it. “Here. Now.”

His fingers were incredibly thick, one of them in diameter equaled two of your own. The strength at which he held the side of your face, your head tilting towards the warmth of his open palm as your eyelids drooped to a slow shut, told you wonders of what lay underneath. Caesar was undoubtedly holding back, the knowledge that he could touch you and cause bruises more than catering to his subconscious desire to tear you bit by bit just to get more of you. “Why… think about the past…”

His speech was slower but the words he was picking up from you to complete more coherent statements was remarkable in the time you had known each other. His fingers had drifted inwards ever so slightly, a centimeter apart until he had encapsulated your bottom lip with his thickened thumb. You swallowed with action, bringing your head forward and with a rush, Caesar had his forehead against your own and the back of his hand was embracing the back of your skull to keep you close. “When we have future?”

Caesar being protective / Defending You. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

It was difficult to describe. The way that Caesar looked at you, his hands splayed with blood when he went to cup the side of your face to keep it steady, the bloodied hand print adorned the usually smooth and loved nature of your skin. Frantic, the way his eyes split between your fluttering lids, the way that he looked at your lips before bringing his face close to feel the air coming from them. Alive, that action said. Lulling your head to the side, you found it difficult to maintain the stance your neck had to stay upright. You looked at Caesar for a second in a gartered haze, your eyes blurring to focus with intent. Swallowing softly, you narrowed your gaze but could not find it in yourself to centralize on any focal point.

Your head lulled back, your vision blurred.

Snapping yourself out of unconsciousness, you gasped when you felt your body weight leaving the ground but you couldn’t do anything about it, not even struggle to get a grip on whatever, or whomever was picking you up, one arm was resting against your chest, the other sprung out to the air as you were hoisted upwards. The fur that stuck to the fabric of your cargo pants, usually such a treat against your bare skin, was starch with a mixture of blood and rain water.

Your head lulled back, your vision was flushed with red.

You could see Koba, at least you thought in whatever drift of awareness you found yourself in. Smiling, it almost looked like as he signed a rather vague ‘weak human’. A body next to him--- You groaned to yourself at the approximation of his stance, the pure sweep of aggression he had against his fellow brother, gait intimidating and wide, staring Koba down with the intensity of what had to be the sun. Movements, you couldn’t pick them apart. The two Apes became a tanglement of nothing but arms and legs scratching into the air, scratching at each other and your mind was unable to dictate them apart from each other as it became one continuous blur of darkened fur. You could have sworn you yelled his name, telling him to stop but that was tangled in the actions of you being carried away.

Something wet against your temple. You wanted nothing more to get rid of the aggravation that the sensation caused as it dripped from the side of your head into your hair and bunched the strands together but your arms weren’t complying with your brains commands to move. Words were fluttering around you, rumbling in nature like the thunder that would shake the Earth during a storm.

Koba. Pushed. Hit head.

You got that and you were suddenly placed against what felt like stone. Cold and smooth, there weren’t divots poking their way into your body, but the burning from your head made you wonder if you were even comprehensive enough to know that or if you were floating off into oblivion. Intentionally smoothed, you thought to yourself and laughed at that, trying to feebly hold onto brittle consciousness. The comfort of a smooth rock, the rock itself being harder than anything else against the curvature of your spine. With swiftness, you were being analyzed. Your head, primarily. A set of hands, calloused around the edges, were cradling your neck before aiming to place a cloth against the right side of your temple. You groaned at that, squeezing your eyes shut as it came almost flooding back to you in waves.

You had been sitting with Caesar, Blue Eyes, Maurice… Rocket, Ash, you felt silly like you were naming the entire Colony but there was one more scarred face that no matter how many times you were encountered with it, left you chilled to your spine from the lack of empathy every shown towards him and the hatred that seeped through, even through his one milky eye. Koba. The eternity of Caesar’s closest council… You had been there.

Smacking your lips, you tried to open your eyes all the way but the sting of liquid in them caused you to squeeze them shut as the presumed wound on the side of your head was being tendered by the beautiful adorned staff of Female Apes whom had knowledge to treat, primitive as the methods were to you at times. Caesar had… asked you to be there, at the meeting itself, the topic was what to do about the Human Colony in San Francisco. He figured maybe you could give good introspective advice given you were a human.

Something��� God, your memory was blurred in a heated frenzied chase to remember the smaller notions of how you ended up with a head injury. Something was said, something Koba didn't agree with - you cracked your fuzzy mind but there was nothing you said that could have been said that would cause Koba to lash out and blatantly attack you. Not in front of Caesar, at least. He was aggressive around you, but he was also incredibly coy.

The room came to a halt, cloth pressed against your temple and swiped away the blood before ceasing as heavy thudded footsteps radiated through the small hut you were warmly encased in. Or the warmth was coming from your body's natural response to being hurt, you had no idea but it felt good enough as you urged your eyelids open for a split second. Caesar.

There was a rush of signing between the King and the other Apes in the room, and with one last glance at you, they dissipated, almost into the air behind Caesar as he sauntered forward, the prickle of his fur on edge still, blood on his hand but now? There was blood casing around his nose, downwards and against his thinned lips, into his mouth and splattered along his teeth.

Guilt surged in you, “Kob- You- Attacked---” Whatever you were trying to say was hushed as Caesar grasped the side of your head, gently this time and tilted so he could get a better view. “‘M okay. Just…” You made a clicking sound with your tongue, “Bonk.”

“Injury like this…” Caesar chuffed, trying so desperately to stop his heart from flying right out of his chest and going back to finish the job with one of his most trusted advisors, “Can… be bad for humans.”

You shut your eyes when he put your head back upright. The primal perception was washing off of Caesar like it was a deep revelation. It was almost smothering, the way that he grasped for the cloth and began cleaning your wound himself, eager to see just how much damage there was in some attempt to bid his time rather than lashing back at Koba for what had been done. “Ape,” His voice was nothing more than a low surge against you, “Do not kill Ape, but…”

There were no buts, you wanted to say as you squeezed your eyes shut when he placed the cloth against a rather tender spot. He pulled back adamantly, and moved forward to work another spot in your hairline and further into your hair. He knew, oh how he knew that you were going to complain about the dried blood in your hair, subconsciously Caesar found himself drawn to cope with that before you really became aware of it.

“Koba… wanted to prove… Human weaker than Ape… Should attack them. Pushed you to show,” Caesar gritted his teeth together and you swore you could hear the friction from inside of his mouth. It was evident in the stiffening of his body language that he was beating himself up for not being able to react fast enough to the situation, “Hit head on rock. Blood,” His voice hushed into a minor but hard whisper, “everywhere. Had you carried off… Before… ”

He didn't bother continuing on that train. It was dead and gone as far as Caesar was concerned, not wanting now to recollect how perfect it felt to have his hands against Koba’s threat when in the surge of a protective instinct that washed over him at the mere sight of you on the ground, unconscious. Caesar cradled your head with surprising gentleness and you found yourself relaxing right into it. The action itself spoke wonders of his true, deeply ingrained feelings. Mate, the hold said, my mate.

“We are weaker.” You laughed out, finally snapping yourself into a more lucid state. You suspected a concussion, but there was no clear way to know as you finally got your eyes to stay open and focused on the green and gold nature of Caesar’s irises. So close to your own, you could swoop up and kiss him if that was your desire. He only chortled in response to your words, knowing that joking was often used as a way to cope with messier situations.

“No,” Caesar reassured and brushed a hand through the other side of your head. Never with his fingers really ingrained in, but more like a mild petting of comfort, usually reserved for moments after climax when you had tangled against him in pleasure. “Koba… weak. You…” The Ape King took a deep breath in and let himself sink his head down to kiss his forehead lightly against yours, upside down. The captivation he had on you down to the minute detailing of his fur tickling under your nose always left you dizzying for more, and you were grateful that Caesar did not pull away this time and lingered, “You are my strength.”

[daydreamingyuta]

Stay the Night | Jeno

Summary: fluff, drabble, bf!jeno convinces you to stay the night with him wc: 300 a/n: Happy Jeno Day! 💚

“So soft, baby.” Jeno says, sleepily running his hands through your hair. Your eyes close intuitively at his sweet touch that you loved more than anything. You snuggle closer to him, breathing him in, his familiar cologne he wears exclusively when he’s around you. 

You both know what time it is, that you'll have to go home soon, but you choose to ignore that fact, relishing in each other's presence for as long as you could. It wasn’t until you felt your eyelids grow heavy and you began to fall asleep that you knew you had to actually go home. “Jeno, I gotta go.” You say, trying to pry your boyfriend's arms off of you. 

At first Jeno ignores you, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you closer. “Jenoo, you can’t pretend to not hear me so that I’ll stay longer.” 

At this Jeno's eyes open and he gives you a pout. “I don’t want you to just stay longer, I want you to stay the night.” 

You give him a pout back, “Stay the night?”

He nods his head, resembling a puppy. You play with his hands as you try and make a decision. “I mean.. I could stay here tonight.” You say and Jeno's eyes light up, “But you have to promise me that you’ll let me leave early so that I can make it to my class tomorrow morning.”

“I promise I won’t try to convince you to skip class and stay in bed with me like I did the last time, baby.” You can tell he’s sincere in his promise, so you let all your worries of tomorrow fade away as he pulls you back into his arms. You always did manage to get the best night's sleep whenever you were with him, and tonight was no different.

[azrielbrainrot]

Loose Lips and Big Feelings

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him.

Warnings: Alcohol?

Word Count: 2320

Notes: This is a little short but very cute. As always, this is part of the band au but you can read it as a standalone. Also I decided the boys make early Arctic Monkeys type music because imagining Azriel singing 505 sounds delicious. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

The bar was already packed with drunk people by the time you arrived. It was so full you were surprised they even let you in, you had to take a deep breath, readying yourself before diving into the sea of people. Finding Azriel and his friends was going to be harder than you thought, you might have to text him again. The situation was somewhat nostalgic to the first time you set foot in this bar, the same night you met Azriel. It's amazing how much things have changed in a matter of months.

Someone was doing a cover of a song you recognized on stage, it almost made you want to hum along and enjoy it for a bit, but you needed to get to Azriel's table first. You couldn't really see the woman singing on stage aside from her striking ginger hair and blue dress, but her voice was truly amazing. You could definitely understand why everyone was so excited to see her. You'd have to ask Azriel if he knew her, maybe try to see one of her shows properly.

You hadn't actually planned on coming tonight, Azriel and the boys weren't even playing and you'd rather sleep away the week. In fact, an hour ago you had been sitting at your desk hoping to get enough progress on an essay so you could completely free up your Sunday to rest and lay in bed all day. But, when a mildly intoxicated Azriel texted you, asking you to meet up with him at the bar, you couldn't resist the offer.

It's not often he asks you outright to meet him, always so conscious of your hectic schedule and workload, even your recent aversion to social outings. So you couldn't really deny him the one time he actually did. You were also a bit curious to see what had him so excited, his happiness was extremely contagious, and admittedly a bit curious to see what he's like when he's drunk, if your intuition had been right then he was close to wasted when he sent you those texts littered with typos.

He had told you that they were sitting at the table by the big red poster, you were pretty sure you knew which one he meant, but unfortunately it was close to the stage which means it would be difficult to get to it while the performance was happening. You were caught between excuse me’s and apologies when you finally caught sight of familiar broad shoulders and luscious tied back hair.

Even when they're not on stage, they're hard to miss. Cassian is at least a head taller than the crowd, so even when he's sitting down you can always count on finding him. He's the first one to notice you as well, greeting you with a shout of your name, somehow audible over the music, and a big grin, as you keep trying to gently push your way through the crowd to get to them.

You find the three of them tucked into the sofas by the table Azriel told you about. Apparently being one of the performing bands gave you access to the best seats in the bar, you always got stuck with the regular chairs. As you get closer to the table you notice Morrigan and another girl you haven't met before were also present.

“You came,” Morrigan yelled excitedly as soon as you got up to the table. It seems they're all drinking tonight, the table is full of grins and flushed cheeks.

“I did,” you chuckle at the overenthusiastic greetings from everyone at the table. A familiar scarred hand reaches out for yours immediately, tugging on it so you would sit down next to him. It's not missed on you the eyebrows the gesture raises, you've learned that he's not always forthcoming with letting people touch or hold his hands so you're sure they didn't really expect him to do it so easily. They probably didn't know Azriel told you everything either.

The sofas were small so it was a tight fit as you sat down right next to him, having no other option but let your leg comfortably rest on his, the feeling of his rough jeans on your bare skin making you giddy for some reason. His arm comes around your waist straight away so his hand settles on the side of your thigh, pulling you even closer into him.

The gesture makes you look up at him, his face a lot closer than you expected, you could feel his breath hit your skin and if you moved even an inch closer your nose would bump against his. The smile he gives you almost takes your breath away as you let out a soft greeting, “Hi.” You're surprised he even heard you, if you weren't so close to each other he wouldn't have been able to over the music, but he throws the same word back at you, in the same whispered tone you used, as his smile widens, eyes not making any effort to leave yours.

“So this is Azriel's friend,” the girl you haven't met before says, with a tone that suggests she's heard a lot about you. The thought of Azriel or any of the boys telling anyone about you has your heart skipping a beat. Her voice also cuts through the spell you and Azriel seemed to be locked in, finally breaking eye contact with him so you can answer her. But, as you look back to the table, you become more than aware that everyone just witnessed your little moment and the smirks on their faces make it hard to play it off.

“This is Amren. She's our manager,” Rhysand explains before you have to ask, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he takes in the flushed state of yours.

“Nice to meet you,” you try to keep your voice leveled but even to your ears it sounds breathless. You swallow softly and try to move the conversation along as Azriel starts rubbing small circles over your skirt, “You didn't tell me why you're celebrating.”

“Rita just told us she's doubling our performances at the bar,” Azriel explains, a little slur noticeable in his voice.

“Really?” You turn back to him as he nods again with a big grin on his face. He looked really excited to share the news with you.

“She's giving us a raise too,” Cass adds, and then looks back at his mostly empty cup and then at your empty hand, “We need to get you a drink.” You stop him before he can get up. “I think I'll be the responsible one tonight and stay sober.” The disappointed reactions around the table make you laugh but also accept that you'd be the babysitter tonight, they were all bordering on wasted already.

As the night went on, everyone only got progressively drunker. It seems like since they can't usually drink too much when they have to perform, they took the opportunity that everyone was here to party as much as they could. Even Azriel, who you never really saw drinking, was talking and laughing like you've never really seen him. He's more of a quiet guy most of the time, preferring to listen rather than entertain. It was nice to see him let loose a little.

The bar was getting quieter since the performance had ended a while ago and the big majority of the attendees started filtering out shortly after. The only people that were still around were ones that were as drunk as your present company. You didn't really mind being sober though, Cassian had brought you some sort of juice so you had something to sip on, and as loud as they were, they were easy drunks to deal with.

Amren had left right after the performance ended with a warning not to stay up too late since they had practice tomorrow. You got the sense she wasn't too much of a crowded bar person but she seemed nice enough. After that everyone else seemed to leave one by one, you tried to keep track of them, not wanting them to end up in trouble as drunk as they were, but as you saw Morrigan making out with a pretty girl with long black hair on the dancefloor your worry subsided.

This also left you alone with Azriel, who has been a lot more talkative and touchy than he usually is. At this exact moment, he was telling you a story, that you lost track of about halfway in, and holding one of your hands in between his, as he played with your fingers, twisting and turning the rings you were wearing. He has also not made any move to sit away from you even though you were the only remaining people at the table, your leg really didn't need to be thrown over his. Azriel was a clingy drunk and your cheeks hurt from smiling at the realization.

You were pondering on how to stop him so you could take him home. It was getting really late and you've already gotten almost unreadable texts from everyone saying they left. He had also told you he had work today so he has to be exhausted. But you didn't have the heart as you watched him excitedly continue on with his story.

At some point, he notices you weren't really following along and just stops, tilting his head to the side slightly. Your smile only widens at the sight. “What?”

“You're cute when you're drunk,” you admit.

“I think you're cute all the time,” he retorts without missing a beat, making your face heat up.

You always had a hard time telling yourself to keep your feelings for him platonic, but between the boyish smile, the flirtatious comments and the lingering touches, it was getting close to impossible to achieve today. “And flirty,” you struggle out.

“Only with you.” Cauldron. You really needed to get him to sober up and take him home.

You get up to do just that and within ten minutes, you're out of the bar and waiting for an uber by the same empty parking lot you usually find yourself in when you come out. He's also a pretty obedient drunk it seems. All you had to do was grab his hand and he looked like he was ready to follow you anywhere your heart desired. You were so glad you chose not to drink because your heart was definitely giving you ideas and your brain was the only thing stopping you.

Azriel was still holding onto your hand and you honestly had no intention of letting go of him. You couldn't really take your eyes off him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, the low lights of the bar hasn't let you really take in the sight. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead and that same boyish smile hasn't left his face all night. No one should be allowed to look this good when they're drunk.

“Remember when we met here?” His words were starting to sound a bit clearer, maybe the cold air was helping him sober up a little or he was just getting tired. You think he told you he had work today and it was already late.

“Of course. It only happened a few months ago.”

“Feels like I've known you my whole life,” he says as he looks down at your linked hands, running his thumb softly over your skin.

“We didn't meet here though,” your voice seems to bring him out of his thoughts, his eyes finding yours, “You gave me back my keys when we were still inside.”

His smile turned a little shy at that. “I'm not sure that counts. I was running late and barely said anything,” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “I was beating myself up over it the whole show.”

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure if he'll remember anything come morning. unsure if you'd want him to, “I was having a really bad day when we met, didn't even really want to come out, but I'm really glad I did, even though I got a massive headache out of it. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. And I can't really imagine my life without you now.”

You tighten your hold on his hand and use it to pull him a little closer to you, close enough that you have to crane your neck back to be able to keep looking up into his eyes. “I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Azriel,” you smile up at him.

The emotion that crosses his face is so overbearing it's impossible to miss or confuse for anything else than adoration and… something more, something you've been trying to ignore for far too long. Gods, you really wish he was sober.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your warm skin. “I think so too, princess,” he whispers, looking at you like he can't believe you're real. You've noticed the nickname only comes out when it's just the two of you and at times like this, when it seems he doesn't even realize he's said it, like he's been holding himself back from doing it regularly.

You could have stayed here, looking up at his beautiful hazel eyes all night, but it doesn't take long for a black car to come to a stop a few feet away from you, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts. You almost forgot you were still outside the bar, still needed to take this big drunk bat home. Taking a step back, you tug on his hand once again, so he can follow you to the car. “Come on, Azzie. We need to get you home.”

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone

[absolutely-esme]

What if Tim was the Ghostliest Bat

Lots of DPxDC crossover writers have Tim Drake being the one non-liminal Bat, or becoming liminal late in the game. This is probably due to the fact that most of them have died and come back and Tim hasn't.

It makes sense, but, hear me out, what if Tim was actually the most liminal and had been liminal for the longest.

The other Bats had a more standard type of death and resurrection. Afterward, they are simply living people.

Tim's parents are archeologists and bring back artifacts from all over the world. At least some of these artifacts are kept in the house. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that some of them have something ghostly to them.

The specifics could vary. Perhaps the artifacts just steadily release ectoplasm into the environment. Perhaps they thin the veil in places and Tim wanders in and out of the Ghost Zone, getting as much socialization from ghosts as from the living, if not more. Heck, maybe one of those artifacts was meant for travel between realms and Tim accidentally opens a portal on himself and becomes a halfa at a young age.

However it happens, Tim grows up exposed to ectoplasm day in and day out. He adapts to the environment he spends his formative years in. He gradually becomes more ghostly. No one notices for a while because no one around him recognizes the signs and Tim is a quick study at keeping up appearances, at least to surface-level observation.

Tim knows how to behave around strangers and distant acquaintances. That said, he doesn't necessarily realize that his more ghostly tendencies are abnormal and not simply something that etiquette dictates is not shared with strangers.

Tim pays relatively little concern to his own safety because some part of his subconscious knows that he's already assured an afterlife that's familiar and comfortable to some part of him, though he is still conscientious and considerate of the health and safety of others.

He obsesses over The Bats, follows them around and takes pictures. Ghosts tend to be fairly intense about what's important to them, so it doesn’t seem wrong to him. After all, he's not trying to force himself into their lives, and he makes a point to be unobtrusive with his photography so as not to impact them at all. By ghostly standards, he's being quite reserved by keeping his distance and taking care not to bother them, and his human social knowledge doesn't extend far beyond surface level.

He doesn't interact with the Bats at all until Batman's mental health becomes a public safety issue, and even then he tries to get them to resolve the matter internally, first. He only begins directly inserting himself into their lives after recieving express permission from a member of the family.

Once he does become one of them, however, he is intense and unreserved about it in the way that ghosts tend to be about everything that's important to them. He pays close attention and remembers everything. He goes above and beyond with anything they might ask of him, and even with some things they don't ask for but seem to need. He cares in a way that's just a bit uncanny.

No one talks to him about some of his more extreme tendencies. Maybe they just don't have the emotional bandwidth because they're still grieving. Maybe the Bats refrain from commenting on Tim's stalking and general over-the-top-ness because stones and glass houses.

Tim doesn't understand what went wrong in his relationship with Steph because human behavior standards and boundaries are not intuitive to him, nor has he been taught about them. Grief-stricken Bats are not a good resource when it comes to behavioral norms. For all that she's certain he'd never intentionally hurt or upset her, Tim is creepy. Sweet and caring, but creepy.

He also doesn't freak out when Steph comes back and pretends to be a hallucination. The deception doesn't work at all because his subconscious ghostliness means that his brain doesn't automatically reject the idea of a dead comrade being back. He just goes straight into "Hooray, you're back!" mode without stopping to question it. Steph doesn't take the deception any further because he's already caught onto it and he's so happy to see her.

They remain friends.

Jason comes back from the dead and Tim immediately latches on. He doesn't care if Jason is attacking him. Jason is one of his, and he's back. He grins and keeps his banter friendly and gushes about how happy he is to have Jason back through the entire beatdown at Titans Tower. He doesn't actually start sounding worried until Jason begins walking away after writing on the wall with his blood. Tim begs him not to go. The whole experience freaks Jason out.

Tim initially has a bit of an issue with Damian, not because of the murder attempts (which Tim doesn't especially care about), but because of Damian's insistence on not allowing Tim to remain in the family, and because his apparent goal of being Batman's only family member makes him register as a threat to others Tim cares about. Eventually, things settle a bit once it's made clear that Damian isn't going after anyone else and will not be allowed to kick him out.

The other Bats are equal parts wary of Tim (because he's creepy and unsettling in ways that are difficult to define) and worried for Tim (because he doesn't seem to have a sense of self preservation).

Lots and lots of Tim being spooky without realizing it and freaking everyone out with no explanation. No one understands what, exactly, is so off about Tim that makes him so unsettling, until Sam Manson gets dragged to a gala in Gotham and immediately clocks him.

Do with this as you will.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

husband!Steve Harrington x housewife!reader

| When you fumble the home-cooked meal you attempted to bake for Steve, he doesn’t mind at all. In fact, the meal he really wanted was already waiting at home for him, all along… |

| And yes, I know the pic is from Marmalade and not Stranger Things, but it’s how Steve looked in my brain when I wrote this, so bite me 😊 |

The rain coming down over Hawkins was relentless. Heavy gray clouds obscured any chance of sunlight breaking through and warming the chilly April evening. A blanket of fog crept along the streets of downtown, slipping between houses and through windows left partially open.

One of those windows belonged to the house you shared with Steve. The chicken casserole you’d attempted to bake had ended in disaster, having literally ‘gone up in smoke.’ You wanted to surprise Steve with a home-cooked meal when he got home from work, because you felt a little guilty always ordering take out. You wanted to take care of Steve, to be the wife you knew he ‘deserved.’ Naturally, Steve already thought you were perfect just as you were, and told you as much, frequently. Still, doubt nagged at the back of your brain, and you wanted to make sure that Steve understood how proud you were to be his, that you wanted to be his perfect little housewife…

In spite of the chilly air that evening, you were forced to open the kitchen window. The rain smelled so sweet in contrast with the acrid scent of smoke filling the kitchen. The sound of Steve’s car pulling into the driveway caught your attention. You made your way to the front door, waving a dish towel as you walked, fanning away the last of the smoke. Steve’s keys made a jingling sound in the door; your heart skipped knowing he was right on the other side of it…

As soon as you saw Steve’s face, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he noticed the smell of smoke in the house. “Did you uh-.” Steve chose his next words carefully. “-Light a candle, baby?”

You bit your bottom lip, an apologetic look on your face. “I wish that was the reason it smells so bad in here,” you replied. “But actually, I-.” You sighed. “I tried to make dinner, for a change. And it kind of exploded in the oven…”

Steve nodded, glancing behind you at the kitchen. He silently observed the aftermath of your work. Every utensil and baking dish you owned had seemingly been taken from the cabinets, considered, and then rejected to the counter. “It’s okay, baby,” Steve assured you, putting his arms around you. “We can order take out; it’s not a problem.”

You tried to let your anxieties fade, melting into the familiar comfort of Steve’s embrace. Holding your ear to his chest, you listened to his heartbeat, soothed by its steady rhythm, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“What sounds good?” Steve asked, placing a kiss in your hair. “Anything you want, and-.”

“I’m actually not really hungry anymore,” you said, your eyes cast downward. “I kind of lost my appetite, with all the smoke.” You chuckled a little, in spite of your disappointment. The bitter smell of smoke and burnt casserole still lingered in the air, but only a little. Not enough that it distracted Steve from how pretty you looked, your forehead lightly dotted with sweat, your hair disheveled and some stains on your pajama shirt from the mess you’d made while baking.

Steve’s eyes swept over you, a combined feeling of love and lust washing over him. That combination of feelings was exactly the reason Steve had fallen so hard for you, why he’d loved you more every day since, and why he’d eventually asked you to marry him.

He knew you were frustrated about the dinner mishap. Steve was a very intuitive husband, and always seemed to know what you needed even before you did yourself.

“Just order something for you this time, okay?” You gave Steve a quick kiss on the end of his nose.

“Well actually,” he replied. “There is something that I’ve really been craving.” He smiled. “Been thinking about it all day, actually…”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Okay,” you giggled. “Well then you absolutely need to eat it.”

Steve nodded, his tongue sweeping lightly over his lips. “Oh, I’m going to eat it,” he replied, his tone a shade darker. “But I don’t have to order out for it. What I want is already here.” A corner of Steve’s mouth curved upward in a suggestive grin. “At home...”

Oblivious to Steve’s meaning, you peered behind him at the burnt abomination casserole sitting on the kitchen counter. “Well I hope it’s not chicken casserole you’re craving,” you replied. “Because that thing I made is definitely not fit for human cons-.”

Steve cut your sentence short by tugging you closer, so your faces were less than an inch from one another. He softly pressed his lips to yours in a closed kiss. It was chaste, romantic, sweet; but laced with darker implications that had your pulse racing.

“I want you, baby,” Steve murmured, easing his body against yours. “You’re the sweetest meal a man could ever ask to come home to…”

You felt a little dizzy, and it certainly wasn’t because you’d missed dinner. Everything about Steve made you weak…but the way he could have your pussy dripping using words alone made you fall the hardest…

“Let me eat you,” Steve said tenderly, respectfully, as if he didn’t already have your absolute permission. “Please?”

You swallowed, steadying yourself, suddenly feeling very light on your feet, as if you could be swept away by the slightest breeze. “Mm-hmm,” you replied through closed lips, then spoke out loud “yes. Yes, please, Steve…”

His smile was exchanged for a look of something carnal, and it would probably have seemed predatory in any other context. But once Steve had your permission, he was completely absorbed in his pursuit of having you.

Your ass was on the couch within seconds, Steve kneeling at the floor between your legs. He kissed your knees, your thighs, working upward till he was nibbling at the waistband of your pajamas. Steve let his right hand drape lazily against his crotch, occasionally palming his erection through his pants.

His lips pressed soft and warm against your belly. Steve spread a trail of gentle kisses down your stomach, lingering above the waistband of your pajama pants. His pretty hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before he hooked a fingertip beneath the pajamas, and lightly tugged them down.

You shivered at the feeling of air on your newly-exposed skin, but Steve’s tongue warmed you up immediately. He licked soft, wispy stripes beside your clit, intentionally neglecting it, letting the pressure at your center build…sucking one of your lips between his, then releasing it with a wet pop. Your fingers went to Steve’s hair, threading his caramel strands. He dipped his nose between your labia, bumping his bridge against your clit, penetrating you gently with his tongue. Your back arched, pressing your cunt forward, burying Steve’s face even deeper between your thighs.

He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his mouth stimulating the inside and outside of your cunt, plumping your lips even fuller. The sound of Steve’s tongue pumping inside you squelched beautifully, combined with the delicate, breathy sounds you were making. He nuzzled even deeper between your thighs, the tip of his nose gliding between your pouty lips.

Steve seamlessly replaced his tongue inside you with two of his fingers, making you gasp at the new, firmer penetration. His tongue washed over your clit, bathing your cunt in a mix of his saliva and your cum. You could feel yourself getting close, but what you really wanted was to finish together with Steve inside you. Your hand left his hair for his shoulder, patting to get his attention as you breathlessly told him “Steve, Steve, need you, in-.” And before you could finish your request, Steve had already lifted your ass off the couch, pulling you down to meet the bulge straining at the front of his pants.

He fumbled slightly at getting his belt and pants undone, because he was in such a hurry. You reached for his cock and rubbed the outline of it, feeling it pulse under your touch. As soon as Steve’s dick was in reach of your mouth, you tugged him between your lips. With a hard suck, you took him all the way to the back of your throat in one gulp. Steve’s knees went shaky, his breath punched out of his lungs at the shock of hitting the back of your throat so unexpectedly, so quickly. Your gag reflex activated and you popped off Steve’s cock, a raw trail burning all the way up your throat. You laid back on the couch and spread your legs, eyes trained on Steve’s, a seductive grin turning your lips.

He shook his head, your slick dripping from his chin. “No,” Steve said, reaching for your hair and gently guiding your mouth back onto his cock. “Need more of that tight little throat-can’t suck me like that n’just take it back-.” Steve eased himself down the length of your throat, nudging the back with his tip. A low growl of pleasure rumbled from Steve’s chest, his fingers threading your hair. “God, just like that…keep sucking…FUCK-!”

Steve hurriedly pulled your lips off his cock and pushed your back against the sofa, mounting and entering you as quickly as he could. Your hands clutched Steve’s shoulders, holding on tight as he humped you like a desperate animal, punching his cock so deep inside you that his shaft was rubbing your cervix. When Steve came, he choked back a dry sob, his breath heating the skin at the base of your neck as he panted through his release. Sweat dripped from the ends of Steve’s hair and onto your chest as he carefully lifted himself off of you. He fell back onto the couch beside you, pulling a hand over his disheveled hair, his pants around his muscular thighs. You laid your head on Steve’s shoulder, tilting your face to gaze at him.

He noticed you staring, and smiled. “Now that was a home-cooked meal,” Steve said, attempting to catch his breath. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You fell asleep on the couch, drifting away while listening to the sound of rain thrumming against the roof, and the muffled rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat…

[felibrary]

cellphone love story — osamu dazai

*+ﾟsynopsis: recently, someone's been spam calling you to the point that you’re fed and pick up the phone, only to be greeted with someone by the name dazai who has been continuously trying to reach his dead friend. the calls however don't end here, rather, your (call) history with dazai starts to extend - slowly but surely forming a bond over time; the phone.

pairing: dazai x reader (gn) |wordcount: 2.5k (this was my personal hell)  | content & warnings: fluff, mentions of odasaku and very very very small mention of chuuya, more than friends less than lovers at the end (can also be interpreted as lovers, but that's just what i had in mind yall), brief mentions of drinking, light angst if you squint, not proofread its 5 am yall…. ; oneshot

a/n: sorry that i havent posted anything in the past few days (eight days to be exact i think..) i hope this will somehow make it up :,)

you can't keep count anymore.

this is the third - no, maybe fourth time today the unknown number has called you. at some point they have to realize that they’ve gotten the wrong number, right? 

it all started about one and a half weeks ago when you changed your phone number and received a new one. ever since that day someone has been continuously trying to call you. unfamiliar digits lit up on your screen as you were out with your friend, you ignored them, after all who were you to accept a call from an unknown number?

but, over the course of the evening the calls didn't stop, eerie and annoying ringtone constantly piercing through your ears until the calls took a halt at midnight. relief washing over you.

to your mishap the calls didn't stop there. sometimes they’d wake you up from a peaceful slumber, groggily pinching and rubbing your eyes before swiping the call away. other times your phone would ring at a work meeting where you had to awkwardly excuse yourself and turn off your phone.

admittedly, you're at fault for not blocking the number. all of your friends suggested that you should, reasoning it with the fact that the caller probably has some dirty schemes and motives and that you should just try and not get in touch with weird people like them. 

which brings you to your current predicament, sitting on the couch with your favorite show playing in the background as you text a friend, until a certain but familiar series of digits show up on your phone screen. do they never know when to stop?

your fingers hover over the decline button and then over to the accept button, debating and contemplating if you should decline the call but you don’t. the pads of your fingers press down on the accept button and you wait. 

you’re greeted with silence, what the hell? your patience runs thin, streaming like arid sand grains through an hourglass until they meet the bottom and gather there together with the others. it's been like thirty seconds into the call now, at this point they should've probably said something, at least a quiet hello. an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth and you begin “seriously? you’ve been calling me for the past week now and suddenly i pick up your calls you don’t say shit?” you complain.

“goodbye odasaku.” a sigh leaves the strangers mouth, a man you notice. “i suppose this is my sign to stop grieving and mourning over you.” his voice slightly quivers and the male chuckles sorrowfully. you can’t distinguish if it’s melancholy or relief that lace the bitter words. 

you’re left with confusion, so many unanswered questions lie at the tip of your tongue but you don’t dare to utter a word. “apologies.” he speaks up once again, this time with a steadier voice. “you’re probably confused, my name is osamu dazai.” he politely introduces himself. even though you’re unable to see him and can’t see him nor his expression, your intuition tells you that he’s slightly grinning, that a ghost of a smile graces his lips, although a rather sad one. 

“this phone number belonged to an old friend of mine.” dazai respires. a shaky “odasaku?” you whisper and let out a breath you yourself didn’t know you held in. “yeah, sakunosuke oda.” he hummed smilingly. “he’s gone.” dead, dazai wants to add but he refrains. 

“his voicemail always played when i dialed his number and called.” he whispered. “it was pleasant to hear his voice, knowing that there are still fragments of odasaku out there. he understood me like no other, i miss him.” dazai meekly confessed in a hushed tone. “but those days are over, i suppose it’s for the better.” the male on the other line sighed.

an umpteen amount of words prickle on your tongue, they itch to be released and said, you wanted to say something - anything. but before you’re able to properly gather your words and form a sentence, dazai cuts you off.

“please excuse my intrusions in the past week. have a good rest.” a shrilling sound echoing through your living room symbolizes the end of the call and you’re left dumbfounded.

-

strident noises awake you from your sleep. you toss and turn in your sheets as you mindlessly try to find your phone, rolling over to lay on your side as you find it and tightly clutching it, gripping your phone as you’re greeted with a bright screen and a row of digits. dazais number, you realize.

no, you didn't save his number nor did you memorize in which order the digits were aligned but his phone number's unfamiliar digits have become quite familiar now. you check the time: 0.52 a.m. what was dazai doing at such time and why was he calling you out of all people? especially after he hung up on you a month ago.

“hello?” you groggily yawn. “ah.” a female voice on the other line yelps, she sounds relieved. “are you odasaku by any chance? could you pick up mr. dazai please?” the woman asks in a demure manner. “what’s the situation?” you rub your eyes, trying to stay awake. “well, mr. dazai is intoxicated - he’s drunk and is currently slumped over the counter.” she whispers into the phone. 

“if that doesn’t bother you of course, i can also call someone else!” she hurriedly says. you're slipping out of your sheets to get out of your bed and move towards your hallway, loosely throwing over a thin jacket and checking its pocket if your car keys are in there. “it’s fine, can you tell me the location?” you tiredly ask. “yes of course. it’s bar lupin.” she replies. you check your phone and step outside your door moving towards your car “got it, i’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.” with that you end the call, get inside your car and put your hands on the steering wheel.

-

carefully you take a step inside the narrow bar, taking off your hood and immediately spotting dazai whose head was currently laying on the surface of the front bar. he was poking at his glass of whiskey, the ball of ice being almost fully melted. “dazai.” you call out. he turns around, hazel eyes meeting yours. 

only then can you admire dazai for the first time. his dark brown is tousled and unkempt but it continues to gleam in the orange light. his arms are wrapped in bandages and there's a long beige, almost khaki, coat draped over his body. you can’t help but think that he’s kind of pretty.

“what are you doing here?” dazai asks in a fatigued tone. you show him your car keys and wag them in the air “here to pick you up.” you reply nonchalantly. “why?” his question is barely above a whisper. 

why are you helping him? he doesn’t understand - he wishes to understand. the first impression you’ve received from dazai was when he was calling you non stop and now your second impression is him slumped over bar lupins front bar. dazai can’t tell if you’re just naive or really trying to be helpful out of politeness or rather out of kindness. 

a certain kindness he’s only ever received from odasaku. helping someone like him out of kindness with no hidden intentions, offering a helping hand, smiling with utmost fondness. 

“as if im leaving a somewhat nice drunkard alone. i’m not inhumane.” even though your answers are full of nonchalance, dazai can make out a certain sincerity that lies in your words. 

his eyes can only follow as you tilt your head towards the door. “let's get you back home.” you gently smile. 

-

dazai wakes up to the sound of  birds chirping and sizzling oil. he’s warm, a soft blanket covering his body only then dazai realizes that this isn’t his bed, that he’s not lying in his futon. he looks around before his gaze lands on the bedside table which had a glass of water atop it, marked with a little sticky note that said “drink this, you’ll feel much better and come find me in the kitchen :)” 

he can’t recall everything that happened yesterday, it all went past him like a blur the only thing he remembered was that you came to pick him up. dazai grabbed the glass and gulped it down in one go, some of its content seeping down his chin and wiping it away with his sleeve before sliding out of the bed with the glass in his hand to return it to you.

finding your kitchen wasn’t hard, it was located right next to the dining room where a variety of dishes were placed on the dining table. dazai enters the kitchen, without you noticing and sees you whisking up two eggs with a pair of chopsticks before speaking up “here.” dazai coughs and places the glass on the counter near the sink to express his gratitude. 

“oh, it’s no problem.” you shoot him a small smile. your hand reaches over to the salt and pepper  to season the eggs with before carefully putting the egg mixture into the hot greased pan. admittedly dazai feels a bit out of place - useless (when was he ever not) so he offers to wash your dishes which you happily agreed to. 

besides the sound of sizzling fat and water running down the faucet, it's quiet in your kitchen. “how’d she know whom to call?”  you’re the first to speak up, eyes still concentrated on frying the eggs as you hum a small melody.

“the bartendress?” dazai asks in response. 

“yeah.” 

“well, odasaku’s number, which is your number now, is one of my emergency contacts, i suppose she just called you first.” dazai shrugs his shoulders, his hands still focused on rubbing away the dirty spots on your plates. 

“i see.” 

“if the old man, my favourite bartender by the way." dazai winks. "if he would’ve been here he would’ve called slug.” dazai lets out a small laugh, probably the most sincere laugh he let out in the past few weeks.

“slug” you ask, soft voice laced with confusion.

“an old friend of mine.” dazai smiles sadly. “odasaku and him are both my emergency contacts.” he chuckles. 

dazai doesn’t talk about the topic much further and neither do you, assuming it’s a sensitive topic for him. “i’m done, how about you?” you look over to dazai who’s currently washing his hands off with lavender soap. “mhm, me too.” he hums in agreement at which you can smile at.

dazais eyes trail after you as you leave the kitchen and move to the dining room, setting down all the plates and pouring two glasses of water. “sit down and eat up.” your eyes sway from his eyes over to the chairs. only then does dazai notice that his beige coat is neatly folded on one of your dining chairs. it makes his heart jump lightly. 

he sits down and takes a sip out of his glass, waiting until you start to eat first before he gets to. he smiles contently as you happily chew on your food. “does it taste good?” he cringes at himself when he realizes just how awkward that question is, he feels like a teenager again that was always wary of what people thought of him. 

“it tastes amazing! wanna try?” you slide the plate over to dazai, offering him to take a piece. “sure.” he agrees before taking a small bite. you weren’t lying when you said that it tasted amazing. “you're right, it tastes so good.” dazai says ecstatically. “told you so! my cooking is not to be underestimated.” you laugh and dazai can’t help but laugh too which makes him cough uncontrollably, putting a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spit out anything on your table cloth but continuing to laugh.

“oh god dazai, are you okay?” you rush over to his aid and put your hand over his back to slide over it, hoping that it’ll somehow soothe his coughing. dazai manages to muffle out a “i’m fine, really.” between his coughs and laughs which you can only sigh at but can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face and plasters itself on your lips.

-

calls with dazai have become more frequent now, although he sometimes still remains a mystery to you, it feels like he’s grown quite comfortable around you. 

he told you more about himself (vice versa), talks about his work at the armed detective agency and sends you recipes the both of you could recreate. not only calls with him became more frequent but also visits. 

at least four out of seven times a week dazai rushes to your place after work (you should probably call it your shared home now due to dazai leaving his stuff at your place like scattered objects on the floor).

for example, today: dazai walks into your kitchen like he owns the place. he sets down his belongings onto your couch before stepping towards the kitchen where he already finds you chopping the vegetables for the curry. 

he notices that you’re on the verge of tearing up as you continuously chop the onions into small bits and grabs a tissue before sneaking up behind you and scaring you. “boo.” his mouth forms a little “o” and you slightly jump before setting the knife down and putting your hand over your heart. “you scared me!” you complain even though dazai can see the playful glint in your eyes.

“sorry, sorry.” he laughs before wiping away the small droplets of tears that managed to escape your eyes. 

his calloused hands brush over your soft skin, it’s intimate - romantic even. you softly sigh against the tissue, the object that separates the two of you. the action makes your face lightly heat up and you’re sure that dazai noticed it too from the way he’s smirking. 

“aw, was i able to fluster you?” he coos at you smilingly, which in response you can only huff at, eyeing him with a look that says “you already know the answer.” before turning around to continue where you left off.

in the meantime dazai pulls out another cutting board and starts to chop the carrots. it’s quiet, it’s always quiet when the two of you cook together, but neither you nor dazai mind. the smell of aromatics that nip and continue to linger in the air and the sound of your jazz playlist which sometimes gets outplayed by the sounds of cutting or frying food, are more than enough. it’s just like the first time the two of you shared this space together, a certain nostalgia suddenly washing over him.

“thank you” he whispers, barely loud enough to not get overplayed by the music playing in the background. 

“for what?” you ask, longing for an answer.

for the times you’ve picked me up at bar lupin, for the times you’ve cooked me warm meals, for the times when you took care of me. 

“for everything.”

this is dedicated to my odasaku person @azullumi (don't die pls i need u and ur fics HHDDISISISIS). you've always told me that you liked odasaku a lot and that some day you also want to open up an orphanage which i find really endearing. what i mean by "you're my odasaku person" is not "wow we're literally so odasaku and dazai coded" but no rather it's because you also play such a major role in my life (not just cause of the age gap between oda and dazai and u and me..). you're always there when i need you, you're always there when i needed you and i hope that you'll always be there when i need you. but the same thing goes vice versa; goes for me. azul you're someone whom i've randomly met and if i never made that one comment or sent that one ask or if you never sent that one dm i would've never written this. you're someone who reassures me and soothes my worries with simple words, when i'm feeling down you're the person i turn to because you're the only person who really understands and somehow relates and thus i'm always able to trust and follow your judgement and advice. i never feel judged or belittled by you or treated as someone whose only an immature kid, no you treat me as a normal person, like a friend. which makes me feel seen - acknowledged even. to be loved is to be seen. i could go hours when it comes about talking to you and what impact you have on my life, but i suppose that's for another end note dsjsdsuusus. you're so dear to me. i love you a lot azul <3

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[euovennia]

short and sweet | ghost/soap/könig

sorry to the anon that it took me so long to get out, i've been dealing with some stuff but here it is! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairings: ghost x reader, soap x reader, könig x reader

warnings: bigotry, misogyny, people just being jerks, canon typical violence

summary: in which three buff military men become all too aware of your struggles. (based on this request)

simon 'ghost' riley

when the idea of simon having a crush comes to mind, i feel like he's one of those people who prefers to observe them from afar rather than have direct interactions with them

so that paired with the fact you're not in the 141 and you're mute, it's gonna take a very long while until you two start interacting, at least a few months after he realizes he's taken a liking to you

they'll usually be pretty short and sweet, but not in the typical sense you may be thinking of

i'm thinking something more along the lines of giving each other a small nod of acknowledgement when you pass each other in the shooting range; him having already practiced and you just barely walking in to start practicing

and honestly? he's completely fine with this arrangement

in fact he prefers it

he still gets a chance to give you a once over without getting distracted from the things he wants/needs to do throughout the day, he considers it a win

but when your target practice slowly begins to overlap with his, he's a bit surprised to find that he doesn't really mind it all that much

there's something oddly comforting about knowing you're just a few stalls down from him

and of course there's the added benefit of him getting to see you and your signature sniper rifle in action

for those of you wondering, yes, he's become quite aware of your talents

how could he not when soap made himself comfortable at his table during meal time and went on about, "a real cute girl and her impeccable aim."

soap's words, not his

and it continues on like this for a while, you two continuing on with your unofficially official meeting times

it becomes comfortable and familiar, two things simon isn't quite used to, but two things that he's quite content with

so he can't help but feel a little empty when you stop attending your unofficial meetings at the shooting range

he's more frustrated with himself than anything cause, let's face it, he's not the type to let himself get comfortable/familiar with just anyone so he's honestly more annoyed that he let himself get attached when he hasn't even made a move to properly talk to you (what a silly goose)

anyway, in true simon fashion he decides to deal with it by not dealing with it

in other words, he just kinda continues on with his routine because he's become so numb to the idea of people leaving his life (no matter how big or small of a role they played) that he doesn't bother acting out on any emotion he has if it does happen

and i think after a while he'll just kinda end up pushing you out of his mind (despite the fact his eyes are fully glued onto you whenever he sees you around base)

so when you walk into the range and make yourself cozy at your usual stall, he's a bit frazzled

so much so he ends up packing up his equipment and making a beeline for the exit

but it's at this moment he bumps into a particularly bratty group of recruits they'd gotten not too long ago

he has to practically hold himself back from snapping the poor kid's neck when he asks simon if he'd seen you enter the range

call it extreme, but the mocking smile that stretched across the recruit's lips as he said your name just ticked him off

simon is a man of intuition and so he can already tell something's not quite right so, curious, he just gives off a gruff, "yes," before waving them off

he's surprised that he manages to bite his tongue when he can hear of the recruits whisper a small, "what a fuckin' arsehole," as they walk away from him

anyway

cue him silently stalking after the group and being met with the sight of them crowded around you as you lay flat on your stomach, hands still steady on the rifle

he watches as you line yourself up to take the shot before eventually resting your hand on the trigger and pulling it, only to miss when one of the recruits purposefully kicks at your shin

another recruit makes herself comfortable beside you with a grin spread across her lips as her voice rings out in a mocking tone, "aw, poor thing missed her shot again. it's a wonder she's made it this far."

while his eyes narrow in confusion at your lack of response, it only eggs the girl on as she nudges your shoulder

"still can't talk, i see," she lets out a wistful sigh, "that's a shame. i think you'd sound really pretty screaming out for help on the field."

another recruit takes this as their chance to jump in, "guess we'll just have to leave her stranded. better for us anyway, no dead weight."

the girl by your side rolls her eyes, "we probably won't even get the chance to abandon her, she's so tiny. she'd probably get squashed like an ant before we could even try anything."

her remark elicits a laugh from the small group of recruits, but ghost certainly isn't smiling when he approaches the group and stares down at them with his trademark glare

they can definitely feel their souls leave their bodies when they look up and see him standing over them menacingly

it gets even worse when he opens his mouth, "that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"

they all just kinda stumble onto their feet at his words, not bothering to say anything as their eyes remain pretty much glued to the floor

he's not having it though so he'll repeat his question, tone louder and meaner than before which causes one of the recruits to just let out a meek, "no sir."

too bad it was the one who insulted him earlier cause he immediately steps in front of them and just kinda, "what? arsehole not good enough an insult for ya?"

you, still lying on the ground and watching everything unfold, can't help the small smile that tugs at the edge of your lips as you witness the way the man's face visibly pales

upon receiving no response from him, simon straightens out his posture before point over to you and speaking once more, "you better pray that girl is more forgiving than i am, because if it were me, you'd all be covering your own asses out on the field."

he watches with great joy as they each begin to shift on their feet uncomfortably before dismissing them in a gruff voice

after making sure they left, simon makes his way back over to you who is still lying on the ground with your rifle as you line up your shots once more

he feels a small wave of pride overcome him when you hit your target perfectly

so much to the point where he walks over to you and spills out a quick, "good aim," to which you'll look up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and give him a small nod of acknowledgement

his eyes narrow, "you don't talk much, do you?"

you simply shake your head

he'll give you a quick once over before looking down at his watch and realizing the dining hall will be closing soon

tempted as he is to just walk away, he can't help but wonder if you'd already ate

so he speaks again, "dining hall is closing in a bit. you're free to join me if you haven't eaten yet, was just on my way."

you pause for a bit and give it a bit of thought before nodding and packing up your stuff before eventually walking out of the range with simon by your side

you don't have the heart to tell him you already ate

but when you look up and see him quickly avert his eyes from you and onto the pavement beneath your feet, you don't see why you even would

john 'soap' mactavish

when i tell you this man was gone the moment he saw you, i mean he was GONE

he genuinely couldn't believe someone as sweet and lovely as you could exist in the same space as him

but the moment he sees you shoot that gorgeous little rifle of yours with a precision that could only be described as pure, raw perfection? it's over. he's all in.

i'm talking, 'fuck me up and send me straight to heaven. this is how i die.'

he's so down bad for you it's insane

and i imagine soap can be quite confident and charming when he wants to be so best believe he'll have no problem in walking straight up to you and trying to strike up a conversation

i'd like to put emphasis on the 'trying' part of that last bit because it becomes quite clear quite quick that you're don't talk

well

maybe the 'quite quick' part isn't so accurate because it probably takes him a minute or two before he finally catches onto the fact you don't talk

in other words, it takes you pulling out your phone and looking up a volume muted symbol and pointing at it before motioning to yourself for him to catch on

he just kinda makes an 'oh' face before letting out a small chuckle and saying something like, "i see now, why didn't ya just tell me that before?"

and you're just looking at him like ???

but he's looking at you like :)))

yeah he's being a little ridiculous right now, but he just got back from a long mission and he's quite sleep deprived so don't mind him he's just being a silly goose, ok?

but truth be told, that dumb little first interaction doesn't even really matter in the long run because it's the bold initiative on his part that makes it so easy for the two of you to become friends

you spend a lot of time hanging around one another and your once carefully planned, scheduled days turn into unpredictable blurs that are jam packed with soap getting the two of you into trouble

i imagine you've become quite familiar with the stoic face of captain john price

but really, how could you not?

especially when soap catches onto the fact that price is more inclined to let soap off with a warning for whatever trouble he's got himself mixed up in whenever you're around

he may be older than the rest of his team, but he knows that dopey grin soap's got plastered on his face whenever he's around you means he's extra sweet on you

and who is he to stand in the way of his boy's happiness with some extra chores?

he's a total dad <3

anyway

because you spend a lot of time around soap, i think it's fair to say that you sometimes end up pushing off work in favor of hanging around the scotsman

and really who could blame you?

he's got a dazzling smile, a charming accent, and a sparkling personality. you'd be a fool not to soak up all the time you can get with him

but that just means whenever he does end up leaving for missions, that's when you really buckle down and start getting all your piled up work done

it can be frustrating and a bit of a bother, but knowing your schedule will be completely free (at least for a little bit) as soon as he gets back is more than enough to get you through the tedious work load you've allowed yourself to accumulate

only this time it's a bit harder to remember that

and it's all because of your newly assigned CO

he's a bit of an older man, which isn't a bad thing

at least until you find out that his mindset lines up with the ideology of a 1950's working husband

you know, the kind of guy who believes it's a man's job to go out and work a job to provide for his family while his wife stays home and takes care of the children, house, and meal prepping

in other words

a complete and utter bigot

so between trying to complete all the work you'd so foolishly neglected in your time hanging out with soap and trying to stop yourself from snapping your superior's neck every time he grabbed your rifle from your hands with a condescending, "careful! wouldn't a small thing like you hurting yourself with this," it's no wonder you couldn't remember that today was the day soap was returning from another one of his top secret missions

in fact, the thought doesn't occur to you at all until soap pulls up a chair beside your desk and makes himself comfortable while you're looking over some paperwork your darling CO had left you because he, "works too hard and needs a break."

more like a break in his skull, but to each their own

anyway i can definitely imagine soap carrying around a small notebook that you use to communicate with him when you can't be bothered to watch him try and fail to decipher your hand movements

and yes, he totally brings it on missions with him just so he can open it up and trace over your handwriting with a gentle touch and a soft smile and oh my god imagine confessing to him like that (i'm kinda dying to write an imagine based on that now (mute or non-mute reader, i'm down for either tbh) so lmk if you're interested!)

anyway

when the two of you break apart from your usual 'welcome back' hug, he'll slide the notebook over to you as a simple question falls from his lips, "since when do you do paperwork?"

and this just prompts you to let out a huff and roll your eyes before snatching up the notebook/pen combo and writing out all your frustrations on the pages

it's safe to say this man is absolutely floored when he reads through it all

frustrated and angry as he is, he doesn't outwardly express it

he simply grabs the heap of paperwork sitting on your desk and promptly tosses it into the nearest recycling bin before grabbing your hand and leading you off to something completely unproductive and time wasting

it's exactly what you need

the night will eventually end off with him walking you to your room and offering you a sweet hug with a small lil kiss to your head

it's adorable, really <3

what's not so adorable is the way he barges into price's office with the notebook in hand before tossing the pages where you'd detailed your CO's behavior onto his desk

price reads through them and best believe all this man can see is red

as someone who takes pride in becoming a role model for those who work under him, he can barely believe of the things he's reading

he's so ready to throw hands

but he can't sadly

so he settles for the next best thing

COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS

with how ruthless price is in his mission to humiliate this man, it's really no surprise when you eventually find out he's been fired

the moment you and the rest of your unit get the news, you practically run all over base to find soap

and the moment you do, you've pretty much tackled him to the ground in a hug

and he simply wraps his arms around you, that same dopey grin price teases him for stretched onto his lips because he knows and he couldn't be happier

he's just happy you're happy <3

könig

so because of his affiliation with KorTac, i like to imagine that you're part of another PMC group that tends to help each other out on missions whether it be due to mission overlap, or just needing some extra support

but despite this, i imagine it would take quite some time before you and könig even meet simply due to the fact that you're almost never assigned to be sent out on the field

and if i'm being honest, i can definitely see not a single member of KorTac having even the slightest clue that you exist until you're randomly brought onto the field one day during a particularly tricky mission

long story short, könig and a few other of his team members got ambushed and they needed all the help they could get which is where you come in

granted they don't actually see you until you all meet back at base, safe and sound as can be

while könig and his team are surprised by the new face, they're even more surprised to learn that you've been part of the team for nearly eight whole months

when asked about why they've never seen you on the field before, the answer is simple; "she's been doing other missions," which you've come to learn essentially means, "she's still in training because we don't trust her to be on her own yet."

and while the other members of KorTac seem to just take that simple explanation at face value, könig can't help but notice the way your face falls and shoulders slump upon hearing it

and it's at this moment he realizes he hadn't seen you anywhere on the field at the time, so where the hell were you?

he decides he needs to be more attentive

so the next time KorTac calls on your group for some extra assistance, he's keeping a sharp eye out there in hopes that he'd see you

but he doesn't

even so, he still holds out hope for next time

and the next

and the next

and the next

okay this is ridiculous

where the hell were you?

he knows you're going on the missions with the rest of the team because you're always there when everyone gets back to base, still dressed in your tactical gear and wiping off the dirt that seemed to cling onto your uniform

so why did he never actually see you?

he's a tall guy so surely, he, out of anyone, should be able to pinpoint your location on the field with a few simple turns of his head, right?

well apparently not

you're practically a ghost (hehe see what i did there)

his frustration with not knowing where you're at on the field has him going mad

he so desperately wants to just come out and ask you directly, but he's convinced himself that you'll somehow take offense to such a question so he decides against it

so he decides to settle on the next best thing

which is pretty much just endlessly staring you down on the field before you eventually disappear off to god knows where

it's not the smartest idea he's ever had if the way you seem to squirm under his piercing gaze is anything to go by, but he just can't seem to help it

especially not when he comes to notice just how pretty you really are

the soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way your cheeks puff out so cutely when you're finally able to get your hands on a much needed snack after a particularly long mission

you're stunning, how could he not stare?

yeah he's definitely got a little crush

but he'll never admit it

especially not with the amount of teasing horangi throws his way whenever you enter the room

anyways i think i'm getting ahead of myself here, let's get back on track lol

i imagine it all comes to a head on the battlefield

one moment könig is going at it with no more than three enemy soliders, but it seems within the blink of an eye those numbers have nearly tripled as he sees a sizeable group of enemy soldiers heading this way

he knows he's more than capable of holding his own in close combat, but with this many people? he can't help but feel a little uneasy as he sees the group grow closer and closer

that is, of course, until the unmistakable sound of a rifle fires through the air and the group of soldiers who were previously approaching him steadily begin to fall to the ground, a pool of crimson blood flowing from their heads

könig's eyes catch onto a bright red laser making small patterns on the ground in front of him so, curious, he looks up to find the source of the light coming from under a pile of rubble located on the roof of a building

upon making eye contact with the small area, the red laser pointer goes dead and you quickly poke your head out from your self appointed hiding spot and offer him a small 'ok' motion with your hand before concealing yourself back into your spot once more

he swears his heart soars at the sight

satisfied with himself and your stellar aim, his mind becomes preoccupied with the mission once more, a newly placed sense of vigor in his attacks

but when everyone is cozying up in the common area after the mission's been completed (with the exception of you bc you're taking a shower), könig decides he can't hold himself back from asking a certain question that's been on his mind for a long time

so he simply decides to go for it and ask, "why hasn't she been assigned to our missions before?"

your teammates all look at each other for a few moments before one of them pipes up, "didn't think she was ready."

another one decides to offer their input, "there are times we still don't think she is, but our captain told us to bring her in anyway."

könig and the rest of those present from KorTac's confusion must be apparent because one of the other members of your team decides to speak out, "she was still a bit rocky when she first came to us. we just wanted her to polish up on her skills before we sent her out on an official mission. it's more out of worry than anything."

the explanation calms the small bout of worry that had infested his mind when they first offered their reasoning for not including you on missions, but he can't help but feel a little pit grow in his stomach

so he decides to speak up once more, "well i think they're capable. perhaps it's time you trust them more."

one of your teammates brows raise, "you think so?"

he nods, "took out a whole group of soldiers that were coming at me, i'd probably be done for if it weren't for them."

he finds the look of shock on their faces amusing as they ask, "how?"

könig leans back, "they were hiding in some rubble on one of the buildings. took them out with a sniper."

he watches a look of realization come over their faces as one of them exclaims, "i thought they were running around the field, not hiding!"

horangi decides to pipe in, "you didn't know? she's always running around the rooftops. i see her all the time."

your teammates practically implode on themselves at his revelation before they start hounding him for questions, ones he graciously answers

könig watches with a small smile hidden under his hood before he can see a small movement of the corner of his eye

he turns his head and sees you peering over at him with a small smile and he watches as you sign out a quick, "thank you," with your hands

he sucks in a sharp breath before bringing up his hands and signing back a shaky, "you're welcome"

his hidden smile widens as he watches your eyes glisten with delight, "you know sign?"

he's quick to respond, "since i was little."

horangi is the one to give his arm a harsh nudge when könig all but freezes upon seeing what you sign to him next

"would you like to join me for dinner?"

[janearts]

Loved reading your thoughts for Roisia's companion quest! Do you have any thoughts on how Roisia would resolve the situation with her father while she is the protagonist? Would one of her companions (like Wyll or Karlach, perhaps) notice that her father is unhappy as he is and remark on it, which could help sway her in one or another direction? Or are you just letting all of the possible resolutions live as nebulously-canon at this point? (I'd be so curious to know how she'd feel about the Avatar of Kelemvor asking her to kill Astarion who she romanced, were she put in that situation.)

[The ask refers to these thoughts on Roisia as a companion.]

Thank you!! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've answered your questions below the read-more.

Do you have any thoughts on how Roisia would resolve the situation with her father while she is the protagonist?

Roisia would be oblivious to the fact that her father is deeply unhappy with the current state of affairs. Roisia is too fixated on the fact that he's here again and she gets to have more time with her father (her gain) than on the fact that his life in the here and now is fundamentally different from how it used to be (his loss).

Unfortunately, Roisia would not resolve the situation with her father because she's not aware there is a situation to be resolved.

Would one of her companions (like Wyll or Karlach, perhaps) notice that her father is unhappy as he is and remark on it, which could help sway her in one or another direction?

I thought that Wyll would gravitate to Roisia's mother since they're both monster hunters or Yasmin was at one point anyway. (Yasmin can show him the trophy room!) I see the same thing happening with Karlach. I thought that Shadowheart or Halsin would be more intuitive when it came to Jairus, but I also considered that Astarion might clue in as well as an "undead creature" himself. I don't know if any of them would remark on it to Roisia, however. If they did, my concern would be that Roisia would persist in the belief that the solution to her father's unhappiness is the true restoration of flesh and bone rather than asking him if he would prefer a merciful death at this point.

Or are you just letting all of the possible resolutions live as nebulously-canon at this point?

100%. As far as I'm concerned, all of the resolutions I outlined are possible, but none of the resolutions are canon. (Or they're nebulously-canon as you've said.) I scripted what I thought could happen if Larian were to say, "Hey, I need you to write a companion quest for Roisia that has a beginning, middle, and an end." But as an artist outside of that hypothetical scenario, I definitely like to live in the middle of the story.

(I'd be so curious to know how she'd feel about the Avatar of Kelemvor asking her to kill Astarion who she romanced, were she put in that situation.)

By my own fictional parameters, I played a game in which I encouraged Roisia to pursue Necromancy, which means that she is deeply, deeply familiar with the spark of humanity that lies within the undead. She has tried to wheedle information out of Withers, reunited Mayrina with her undead husband, freed Thrumbo and his zombie compatriots from their mummy lord, she's talked with ghouls and ghasts, and has freed Astarion from his vampire master.

So even if she hadn't romanced Astarion, she would still deny the Avatar of Kelemvor because the undead aren't just glorified field experiments to her, they're fully-fledged people in their own right, worthy of care and having a voice in their own destiny.

The fact that she romanced Astarion just adds angst to the picture because she would be asked to choose between two [undead] people whom she loves very dearly. She so very badly wants to restore her father to how he was when he was alive and a part of her still wants to be a Cleric of Kelemvor, but she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill Astarion. (Which he knew. Of course. Naturally. Didn't have a single doubt or a flicker of fear in his mind at all.)

[faeruy]

Tarot Time - Agatha All Along, Episode 7 - "Death's Hand in Mine" Part 1

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS EPISODE. There's so much to talk about with regards to the Tarot used in this episode. I had to take a couple of days and watch it a couple of times to catch everything. First off, all of the kudos to the writers - their use of tarot is inspired, the way they connected it throughout the show was BRILLIANT, and I honestly didn't see the reveal that Lilia was seeing her final reading coming. I am legitimately in awe of these writers.

So lets talk about it, as this is mostly going to be me trying to wrap my head around everything that happened. As always, I'm an amateur, so I may get things wrong. I'm also splitting this up into two parts because there's A LOT. First part is Lilia's Reading, the Second part is going to be all of the other cards drawn in the episode.

First up; Lilia's True Reading. I'm starting with this one because I've already talked about a number of the cards and what they mean, although even they take on some new aspects now that they are revealed to be part of the final draw. If you haven't read my earlier posts, there's links at the bottom of this one. This is also going to be tough for me, because while I have a decent familiarity with what each card symbolizes, I've never been particularly strong when it comes to layouts, and how to take in the cards as a whole reading instead of individual pieces. But also, someone can correct me if I'm wrong, "Safe Passage" is a layout that - while visually is based on the Celtic Cross - is made up for the show.

The Traveler is The Queen of Cups - Lilia. She described this card in the show - Full of intuition, but also calm, compassionate and nurturing. Warm hearted in tune with those around her - though in this case not consciously, since earlier callouts of the cards were done involuntarily and out of time. She has some aspects of a Reversed reading; her gaps and out-of-time phasings indicate a bit of emotional insecurity, and by her own admission she's bottled things up so she doesn't have to deal with the pain of seeing the future. But the Upright has been stronger with her by far. The fact that she put a sigil on Billy to give him time to come to terms with who he is speaks volumes about her compassion. It's a card that fits her to a T. I also love the modified card - for the most part, they're using a bog-standard Rider-Waite Deck, but most of the cards are in this drawing are modified. The Queen is usually depicted sitting in a throne, but this deck has her in front of a table - ready to divine and interpret and intuit. Less above her people than the normal card, and more of an equal.

What's Missing - Three of Pentacles - The Coven. I talked in depth about this one before. The only thing that changed is who the reading is for - in the first episode it showed up, the reading was for Agatha. But she wasn't the only one who lost her original coven, Lilia lost hers too. She needed them as much as Agatha did; after all, what is a witch without her coven? And as much as they bicker and lack trust in each other, they have become what they've been missing. This card is modified by making the figures standing in a group look like the Coven - Lilia, Agatha, Jen, Billy, Alice, and yes, even Rio. Oddly enough, not Sharon, suggesting either a) the art department didn't have enough room to fit her in, b)she was never a true witch, therefore not part of the Coven, or c) she was close enough to death even before the Road that Rio was essentially following her - metaphorically.

Path Behind - Knight of Wands - Alice. I talked a lot about this card in episode 5, and I don't know that there's a lot to add here. Lilia goes for the simple definition; a knight full of fire and energy. She leaves out the impulsiveness, but probably has to do with sentimentality and choosing to remembering her heroism. Path behind is obvious; her death was significant, and affected the Coven strongly. Since this is Lilia's reading, I think Alice's death is maybe the catalyst for her to start really confronting her own mortality, and her own Path. Again, the card is modified, depicting a knight holding a staff (interchangeable name for Wands) in the same stance Alice was using to save Agatha. Normally it's a knight on a reared-up horse, with the staff held upright. Both versions of the card indicate a very aggressive, action-oriented person, which Alice very much is.

Path Ahead - The High Priestess - Jen. This one is making me FERAL. So the card here is barely modified - the only difference is the High Priestess looks like Jen. And I've talked about what that means in the first post I made about tarot in this show. What it means HERE, however, is super interesting. First of all, Lilia uses the phrase "unwilling or unable to use it" which specifically refers to a Reversed reading, even though the card itself was drawn Upright. And we know that while Jen succeeded in her Trial, all it really did was help her feel confident in her knowledge of the craft; her origins as a root-worker. It didn't remove her bindings. So in some ways, she's not yet the High Priestess Upright, But given that this is the Path Ahead, I think it means she will be. But what does it mean that she is the Path Ahead? I have a guess, but stick with me here. First of all, The High Priestess is the master of the unconscious and spirituality. Secondly, the Path Ahead is for the Traveler, meaning it's specifically LILIA'S Path Ahead. Also, There's a line in the Ballad about "Spirits as our Guide." So my guess, is at some point, Jen is going to be unblocked, and when she is, she's gonna call on the spirits of those who died on the Road - including Lilia. There's a reason Lilia was okay making the sacrifice she did, and why she was so insistent on Jen specifically getting out of there. I could be wrong, but I think the signs are there, and I cannot wait to see if I'm right.

Obstacles - Three of Swords - Agatha. Interesting, this one probably has several implications. Three of Swords represents heartache and grief. For Lilia specifically, one of her biggest obstacles has been her grief over seeing everyone she knows and loves die well before they do, and being unable to stop it. It's stopped her from using her power to it's full potential and kept her from connecting with and caring about people. She's needed to let that go, accept that Death comes for everyone, and that her visions having meaning and purpose, even if she can't change them. The card is mostly the same, they've just put a figure in the foreground that doesn't normally exist, aka Agatha. So it also kind of implies that Agatha, specifically Agatha's own heartache, has also been a giant obstacle to Lilia, and probably the coven as a whole - continuing the theme that actually, Agatha is her own worst enemy, which tracks.

Windfall - Tower Reversed - William/Billy/Teen. I've already talked about how this relates to Billy, but this reading is for Lilia. So the personal transformation is HERS. Violent and disruptive, but she'll become something new. What will she become? A spirit, maybe? Something else, something more? Or is it that in her final moments, she becomes the strongest, most complete version of herself? I'm inclined towards something beyond - she looks almost ecstatic when she draws it, and tied together with her Path Ahead being The High Priestess, I think she realizes while she may die, she's not done, and she's gonna be GLORIOUS. The card here isn't significantly modified, I believe it might be, but it was so quick I couldn't catch exactly how.

Destination - Death - Rio. And we get the (highly telegraphed) reveal that Rio is Death. Normally the card is Black Knight on a White Horse, but here it's just Rio in Grim Reaper guise. Makes sense, given that in this universe she predates Tarot, so in this deck, the card is based on her. Reading superficially, it's just that all roads lead to Death. But the card is more complicated than that and Lilia knows it. Because the Death card isn't just about physical death. It's about embracing the endings and accepting fate so that something new can begin. The personal transformation promised as the Windfall cannot happen unless one is willing to let the old self end. And Rio is the original Green Witch. A flower cannot grow without nutrients, and soil is enriched by what dies in it. So Lilia knows at this point she has to die. But it's okay now, because it's not an end, it's a new beginning. And I'm crying as I'm writing this. And I think the writers were SO CLEVER that the last shot we see of Lilia is of her as young girl, with her mentor saying "Let's Begin".

I think overall the writers have been very good with their use of tarot, and their layout is very cool. I also think it's very smart that they've associated certain cards with certain witches, and that the words Lilia was using in association with the cards were their basic definitions only. It makes sense; we're talking about a visual medium, and the way she did it was punchier, and more dynamic than doing an in depth interpretation of the cards. But what it didn't do was give us the reading as a whole, and almost tricked the audience into forgetting or dismissing the idea that the reading was for Lilia alone instead of the coven, and that the cards are working together to paint a fuller picture. But this episode has also shown that somebody on the writing staff knows their tarot, or at the very least did a lot of research. And I think there's a deeper interpretation to be had; Lilia's died, but she is not done.

I'm so excited for the last two episodes. I don't know if we'll see more cards after this, but I'm not ruling it out as a possibility. I also have the rest of the cards that were drawn this episode, which I'll go into in Part 2 of this (maybe 3, who knows, there were a LOT of cards). It should be up soon, but I need a bit of a break after writing this one. hope you all enjoyed it!

Here's the Links to Past Episodes

Episode 1-3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 Part 2

[edensreality]

You’re a shifter? Adapt to the Rick Sanchez mindset. Now.

“What? Rick Sanchez from Rick and Morty?”

Yes. Rick Sanchez from Rick and Morty.

For those who are not familiar with the animated series 'Rick and Morty,' first of all, if you're shifters, you're missing out on a great show. But I'll explain a little about what I mean by having the mindset of Rick Sanchez.

Rick and Morty revolves around the fact that Rick and Morty travel through various universes, different realities, and multiple galaxies to complete missions, just to hang out with people from other dimensions, or simply to retrieve whatever item they need.

Basically, they reality shift ALL the time.

Now what do I mean about the Rick Sanchez mindset? Rick holds the title of 'The most powerful man in the galaxy,' and the biggest reason for this title is that he has access to the multiverse by his portal gun, the device that allows him to switch realities in SECONDS.

We (unfortunately) don't have access to a portal gun, but we do have access to our subconscious. Think of the portal gun as if it were your subconscious or your intuition to shift realities. You are as powerful as Rick Sanchez, or even more powerful than he is, because he needs an object, and you only need yourself.

If you think of it this way, you are the most powerful person in the galaxy, and the reason for that is you— the power your mind, subconscious, and body hold, allowing you to go ANYWHERE you want, do what you desire, and reach happiness.

And you don't have to worry about what will happen to you in the reality you find yourself in. As Rick Sanchez says, and all shifters agree, there are INFINITE realities, dimensions, galaxies, and universes. There are infinite clones of you and your subconscious spread across the entire universe.

In the series, 'Rick C-137' is considered the “original” version of Rick, but who gave him that title? Who said that this is his “original” version just because his subconscious was born in that body? If there are infinite versions of him, what makes him the 'Original Rick'?

That's because there is no original Rick, just as there is no original YOU. There are infinite versions of you; you are simply born into one version of yourself. You are not the original version just because you are you; being you doesn't make you the original among all the infinite versions of yourself.

And we are so powerful that if we are not satisfied with our version of this dimension or with the dimension we live in, we can simply choose to be and exist in another one.

You are simply born into a body, into an organism, something that obviously cannot be transported too far. Your body is irrelevant; what matters is your mind, your subconscious, your awareness—this is what makes you YOU. If you think you were born into the wrong body, then just find your ideal version and transfer your awareness to that body. You will still be you, your mind, just in a different body and potentially a different life, your ideal life.

I have adopted this mindset, the mindset of Rick Sanchez. And that is what has kept me motivated and believing that the possibility of shifting our consciousness to other infinite realities is truly achievable.

You are the most powerful person in the universe, solely because you can shift realities, galaxies, universes, and dimensions to be what you want, have the life you desire, and most importantly, BE who you truly are.

@edensreality

[elswing]

in defense of elrond

it is ironic that elrond keeps accusing galadriel of being too blinded by pride while he's fallen equally victim to being blinded by his own frustrations. neither of them are being particularly rational about the situation because they're both hurt and feeling betrayed, and i think elrond's remark about how galadriel only sacrificed herself to save the ring instead of the company perfectly encapsulates that—because, yeah, that is a fair interpretation of it, but she did just tell him five seconds ago that she was only there to protect them, a fact that exists simultaneously with her possessiveness over nenya.

it isn't One Or The Other, just like both of their opinions on the rings, because in actuality they are both right about them. elrond has a limited perspective on it, but from his pov he is completely justified in hating the three feanorian crafted shiny magic jewels that everyone around them covets (🤨). all he knows is that sauron had a hand in making them and no one can possibly know how much influence he has over them because the true art of his craft is subtle. as in, you don't know it's happening to you until you're suddenly slapped with the consequences of it. it is equally fair of him to be suspicious of galadriel herself, because it is impossible to rely on whether she now believes herself to be free of his corruption when she never knew it was there to begin with. also, again, for emphasis—she knew sauron walked among them, she knew he'd helped make the rings, and she let it happen anyway. that doesn't exactly inspire trust, especially when it's the exact antithesis of the point she's trying to prove to elrond and she hasn't done anything to try and rectify that breach of friendship except offer an apology that does sound quite empty given she is still championing the rings.

on the other hand, galadriel is the one who spent time with sauron all this time. galadriel is the one who befriended him, and while even we as the viewers can't be sure which parts of halbrand were an act and which were genuine moments of connection, the main point is still clear: whether she wants it or not, they understand each other. even without their friendship, you can't spend thousands of years dedicating your life to hunting someone down without them becoming familiar to you in some way, and i think there is a specific manner of vulnerability that loss and grief gave her and it just tore her wide open for all sorts of habits and traits to take root. she became so devoted to her vengeance against sauron that the lines between identity and purpose began to blur.

i am not of the opinion that galadriel loves sauron (or vice versa, but that's a whole other post), as fascinating as their dynamic is to me. i do think that she is a passionate individual who was made for love and boldness, and losing everything she did was never going to mellow her out or slow her down. in her, vulnerability takes the form of rage, and it is there, in that twisted, not-quite-galadriel version of herself, that sauron was able to find a reflection.

there is no way elrond can possibly understand any of that, even despite suffering similar losses, because that's just not who he is. galadriel has the better intuition on sauron's manipulations, and she has a far better understanding of the depth of them, so of course her opinion should count here.

the issue is that they're both too raw and hurt that neither of them are willing to say "okay, so we BOTH have good points here. let's hear each other out instead of waiting for one of us to see reason and blindly agree with everything the other is saying"

i think it should also be noted that galadriel does end up being right about the rings' capabilities as a force for good, especially since the One to control them hasn't been forged yet. as unlikely as it might seem to elrond, her intuition isn't leading her astray here. we just haven't reached that point in the story yet (nor have we reached the point where galadriel begins to humble herself to the elves and seeks to redeem herself like morfydd mentioned, but i have a feeling they're getting into that now. after all, she did give nenya up to the guy who hurtled face-first off a cliff hoping to destroy them, so that's gotta count for something. baby steps!)

[bairdthereader]

Julio Spring, let's have a chat.

I find this man hard to write about because sometimes he makes himself exactly what his son needs, and other times he's almost damagingly quiet. Without knowing too much about Julio's past (I think I've read everything Alice has written about him, but for the purposes of this post I'm going to focus mainly on what we know from the show), it can be hard to parse his motivations and actions. But one thing we know for sure is that Julio is deeply concerned for Charlie.

The most poignant scene between them is obviously when Julio hugs Charlie after Harry's party. He can sense immediately that something is wrong, very wrong, but has the intuition and sensitivity to push aside the intense curiosity he must be feeling about why, or the details of what happened, and addresses the most pressing issue--Charlie's need for comfort and support.

Though we never see it on screen, or even much in the books aside from some narrative flashbacks, this must be a tragically familiar scenario for Julio; after all, he's been through at least a year or more of dealing with the aftermath of the bullying Charlie experiences. How achingly difficult must it be for Julio to repeat "it's going to be okay" to his son when he knows there's a good chance it might not ever be truly okay. The trust that Charlie must have in Julio to allow himself to fall apart in front of him indicates that Julio must have handled those past crises with enough care to make Charlie see him as a safe space. [And we can't assume that Julio is safe for Charlie just because he's his father--Alice makes it clear in other storylines that safety with family is far, far from a given.]

Julio has gone through this enough times that, when it's time to drop Charlie off at the cinema, he's clearly torn between allowing Charlie the freedom he needs, and the space to make his own judgments about what he can handle, versus his parental desire to protect Charlie from harm. The fact that he gives Charlie that space earns him a lot of respect in my eyes.

Afterward, he can tell that the conversation between Charlie and Ben was an antagonistic one, and that his concerns were valid. There's nothing worse as a parent than anticipating hurt for your child and then having that fear come true. But Julio doesn't push, or dig for more. Maybe he should have, but those calls are always hard to make, and even harder to judge from the outside.

A lot of Julio's tender and caring moments happen in the first season, so it's hard to watch in season two when there are many scenes where Julio is so obviously upset, worried, or angry, and yet does nothing. Sometimes, admittedly, it's hard to know what to do, and that's valid, but we need him to try.

We need Julio, who understands Jane and where she's coming from at least a little better than Charlie does, to step in and mediate when she's clearly letting her own past and her parents' critical behavior impact how she's interacting with her son.

We need Julio to follow up on his concern, that niggling worry and doubt that he has, about Charlie not eating and isolating himself.

We need Julio to object when he witnesses Charlie engaging in negative self-talk, to bolster his son with words of support.

Julio Spring is a good dad who cares incredibly deeply for a son he can't always completely understand, but there's room for growth here too. I really hope we get to see that in season 3.

*And fear not, the infamous hanky panky conversation will get its own post.

[eggymf-archived]

the art of persuasion;

ft. ominis gaunt x f!reader/mc (one-shot)

themes: revenge, cheating, 6th year, slytherin!reader/mc, dark!reader/mc, cheater!sebastian, implied dark!ominis, subinis (for now), one-sided pining, slytherins being slytherins

warnings: nsfw, pwp?, smut, toxic behavior, manipulation, no romance, blowjob, cowgirl, p in v

summary: you discover your boyfriend's illicit little escapades in the restricted section with another girl. you plan to destroy them both using a certain potion, and a willing volunteer. amongst the array of selections at your disposal for your plan, you had your eyes on one specific person – his own best friend.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: romance is dead and horny is alive. there’s a part 2 for this – don’t ask why. *sweats* (for some reason that sounded like a damn poem i–)

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3 

It has been more than a month since the truth behind your nagging doubts and restless nights finally revealed itself. Like any other woman with a keen intuition especially towards their grimy, unfaithful lovers, you were unfortunately right about your suspicions towards your boyfriend of almost a year, Sebastian Sallow.

To say that you did not have the slightest idea that he'd do such a thing was a complete lie — sure you weren't an academic wonder, but you certainly weren't that daft.

Alana Crowley — a fellow 6th year student from Slytherin. A friendly, seemingly unproblematic young lady at first, until she decided to latch her claws onto your boyfriend, that is. She had been awfully clingy around Sebastian for the past two months, and that foul git of a lover had no qualms with her blatant display of her not-so-subtle forms of affection. In fact, he seems to thrive in the attention, much to your dismay.

You've seen the looks he had given her. You've felt the all-familiar sparks between them during their seemingly harmless interactions and stares. As the woman whom he loved first, you were aware of Sebastian’s irresistible ways of communicating with his eyes: his longing stares, the way it twinkles when a mere glance was spared towards him, and how its warmth enraptured the entirety of your being the moment he gazes upon you with raw adoration. 

He was doing the same tactics he had used in capturing your poor little naïve heart during one summer getaway after your 5th year. He might as well just slap you on the face for using the same tricks on another woman — it all hurts the same either way. But the fact that he had been doing all these scandals right under your nose however? Absolutely unforgivable.

What you hadn't expected was how you ended up finding out: witnessing him doing the deed with his little side piece in the Restricted Section. It was the day when the both of you had planned a study session together for your NEWTS with Ominis Gaunt, his best friend. Sebastian was uncharacteristically late, thus you and Ominis went looking for him, and unfortunately ended up stumbling upon the scene.

“Wait! Hngh–! What will you do if your girlfriend finds out— haaaah! A-about this?”

“She won't. She doesn’t even suspect a thing. Everything’s under control, lo— oh fuck!”

Those were the exact words both you and Ominis had heard as they engaged in their explicitly raunchy little act while you pathetically watched behind the bookshelves. Betrayal was a brutal weight, and it had clasped itself around your ankle within that moment, submerging you within the icy depths of bitter realization. 

You thought he’d be faithful to you like he had promised. Hell, the both of you went through that absolute shitstorm during your 5th year together. Surely that accounts for at least some form of loyalty and honesty about each other's feelings and intentions, right? But alas, he had broken that simple unspoken rule, and your trust towards him was no more.

While you were right to trust him with your secret regarding your unusual magical prowess, you've made a fatal mistake of entrusting your heart to his bloodied hands. Yet despite the gravity of the situation, no tears, hysterics, or even any form of hints were shown of how utterly devastated you truly were.

There was no way in hell that you, (Y/F/N), the famed wielder of ancient magic, would crumble over a mere cheating bastard who couldn’t keep his own filthy little flobberworm in his pants.

Perhaps Sebastian didn’t know you that well after all, because if he did, he wouldn't have dared to incur your anger the second time around. It was fair to say that you’d let him have a taste of his own ignorance and foolishness, and you weren't afraid of forgoing the brakes and letting your unbridled rage hit him like a Graphorn on a wild rampage.

Thus, here you were, currently standing in front of the potions station within the Room of Requirement. You’ve been keeping a watchful eye over the bubbling concoction that you had been secretly brewing for nearly a month.

Three measures of boomslang skin… One measure of bicorn horn… High temperature for twenty seconds… 

Upon stirring the thick, mud-like mixture, you quickly set your stirring utensil aside, letting the potion brew within the cauldron. There were two remaining pieces left in completing the little set-up that you've constructed out of your own pettiness, which consisted of this particular potion and a willing volunteer. 

For the most part, the former was complete. But the latter? That was an entirely different problem on its own, but you had your ways.

An echoing creak resounded throughout the magical space as the doors of the Room of Requirement swung open, revealing your fellow 6th year Slytherin friend with slicked back blonde hair, holding up his wand which was blinking red at the tip. The opal-eyed male sauntered towards you carefully, avoiding any possible objects he might collide against.

“Glad you made it, Ominis,” you welcomed. You gently grabbed his arm as you guided him towards the nearby chaise lounge. He sat comfortably at the rather cushy seat, a smile present on his face.

“I came here as soon as I got your owl, and I apologize for the delay too. Sebastian's been quite slippery as of late,” he sighed. You plopped down beside the male while a floating tea set poured you both a cup of tea, to which Ominis accepted with utmost gratitude.

“Not surprised,” you nonchalantly drawled as you savored your Earl Grey tea. “He doesn't loiter around his usual spots as of late. I wonder why.”

The pure nonchalance of your sarcasm caused a chuckle to arise from him before partaking in his own beverage. Your eyes trained towards his unseeing ones that seemed to have this knowing glimmer. With the countless vexations that both you and Sebastian had brought upon him during your 5th year, it was now Ominis' second nature to detect your devious little plans from a mile away, ready to reel you in whenever you got too far.

Which brings you to the oh-so-burning question that was living rent-free within your mind: why is he, out of all people, helping you?

Setting his teacup aside to the nearby side table, he reached for the inner pocket of his coat, grabbing a vial containing several strands of dark brown hair. 

“Managed to nick it off him this morning before he woke up. Thankfully he slept like a log,” he hummed. You grinned at him, levitating the vial to the nearby cabinet beside the potions station. Ominis leaned back against the backrest of the lounge with his legs in a figure four lock.

“Also, I believe we have pressing matters to discuss, (Y/N)?” his posh-toned query cuts through the momentary silence. “Surely you didn't invite me all the way to the Room of Requirement just to deliver several strands of hair.”

“Perceptive as always,” you smiled mirthlessly, eyes and tone getting slightly darker as your teacup floated off to the nearby table. “You’re right. We need to talk.”

“...Go on.”

“I’ll be frank with you. I’m not quite sure as to why you’d even agree to this little request of mine in the first place,” you admitted. “So kindly enlighten me, Ominis. You're far from the type who would engage in petty little acts of vengeance. Why exactly are you helping me?”

Ominis bit his lip, silently cursing within his head as he racked through his mind for a valid excuse. While he couldn't blame you for your cautiousness given that Sebastian himself was his closest friend, this was a topic that he had desperately avoided out of fear of rejection and for the sake of preserving his friendship with his oldest friend. That’s right — he was in love with you, and has always been eversince you’ve deemed yourself worthy of his trust.  

You’ve always had him wrapped around your pretty little finger even before he became aware of the butterflies. He loved you enough to forgo his own wants and needs of having you; to keep you close yet far enough so that he'd never be able to claim you for himself out of the bare minimum respect towards you and his best friend. He settled for your presence, pining hopelessly for the real thing, and he wasn't about to let his demons run rampant and ruin everything no matter how strong his urges were.

Or so he thought.

“A mere extension of my own good will towards a dear friend. Nothing more,” he answered stiffly with a trace of longingness evident within his misty orbs. This minute detail, however, doesn't go unnoticed by your sharp, calculating eyes. 

“Whether Sebastian's my best friend or not, infidelity is deplorable. Whatever acts of vengeance you have in mind is both warranted and well-deserved,” he added firmly.

You hummed in response, seemingly satisfied yet not entirely convinced with the purity of his intentions. Your eyes gazed upon him coyly, your lips curling upwards.

“Perhaps. But that's not your only reason now, is it?”

Ominis froze as you chuckled knowingly, an underlying dark tone present within your seemingly innocent display of amusement. His exhalation was slow, feeling your presence come nearer towards him. Much to his surprise, you pushed his leg that rested atop the other, lodging your knees in between his lower limbs. Dainty hands rested themselves gingerly upon his shoulders, your lips dangerously close to his ear.

“Surely you have your own motives, Ominis. You know what I’m brewing, yet here you are, giving into my little whims…” you trailed off with a hint of smugness in your whisper. His heart hammered at the featherlight touch that trailed itself along his prominent jaw.

“Now, let me word my question differently this time. What exactly do you hope to get from all of this?”

The sudden calloused allure of your tone caused the blonde-haired lad's breath to hitch. He gulped, breathing slowly and deeply to calm the raging tempo within his chest. His lips remained pursed — this was obviously not a good time for a romantic confession, and silence was the best option if he wished to keep his pesky little feelings under wraps. 

The madness within him was less noble with its intentions, however. It was a perfect opportunity to whisk you away at your most vulnerable emotional state — to steal you from Sebastian after that unsavory stunt that he had pulled. He’d do anything to have you. Anything. But alas, the demon itself was constrained by the chains of his strong morals, never to see the light of day.

Unfortunately, you were a lot more quick-witted than he thought, capable of putting two and two together: the way he’d comply to all your requests, how he instantly comes to your rescue, his willingness to put up with this ridiculous plan, the rosy hue that was slowly creeping up his pale complexion — all of it finally made sense.

“You like me, don't you?” 

His silence was more than enough, and the frown that was once on your pretty face morphed into a satisfied smirk. You leaned back, letting your eyes feast on his flustered state. A devious improvised plan formulated itself within your head and a sultry giggle escaped your lips. 

His thin lips were soon parted by your thumb. The said digit invaded his cavern, to which he welcomed by lightly grazing his tongue against your skin. He yelped as you gripped his chin harshly with your thumb hooked within his mouth, forcing him to look up while you gazed down upon his face with cold (E/C) eyes.

“Well?” you teasingly whispered, the pad of your thumb smearing his own saliva onto his lips as you await his answer. “Do you?”

“... Yes… Yes, I do,” he rasps, his morals finally consumed by the wildfire of his own desires.

“Good.”

And just like that, he fell right into your trap.

You gently lowered yourself onto Ominis’ lap, straddling him while your lips claimed his into a searing kiss. The opal-eyed man softly whined, dragging his palms along your thinly-clothed thighs before resting his hands on your derriere. A delightful purr erupted from your throat before biting on his lip as he snuck his fingertips under the thin layer of your knickers, giving the soft flesh a firm squeeze.

Feeling your lungs burn for air, the both of you parted, gasping and heaving. Your (E/C) orbs were hazy, clouded with both carnal desire and smugness. The way your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's best friend looked so helplessly eager to give his entirety to you gave you a dizzying rush of prideful feminine arrogance.  

You sat upright while his hands drifted to your waist with evident impatience. Your clothed slit was now aligned right onto the stiff tent on his trousers. A breathy, euphoric moan escaped his lips, throwing back his head slightly as he was reduced into a shuddering mess. God, you were so warm — to think that he was feeling it through layers of clothing was downright maddening. The throbbing ache within his trousers was growing unbearable, and he wanted nothing but to relieve himself from this sinful agony. 

He has waited for so long. He has fantasized about you during his lonely nights, spread out and his for the taking — without Sebastian in the equation. He'd love nothing more than for you to strip him bare and do as you please with his body. The mere notion was enough for his stiff erection to twitch within its confines, leaking droplets of liquid desire.

Your lips curled into a gleefully sinister smirk. It was akin to witnessing a valuable gift unwrap itself; a revelation of how atrociously needy Ominis Gaunt gets once the correct buttons were pushed. 

“I think it's only fair if I give you a little taste of what you want, no?” you chuckled. A quiver raked through his lithe frame upon feeling the thin skin of your lips tracing itself along his prominent jawline. 

“Ah…!” he gasps with unbridled delight at the delicious suction against the delicate skin of his neck. Merlin, he never expected you to be this bold. A giggle erupted from your cherry red lips, drinking in the scrumptious sight of his flustered state. 

Oh, you were going to have fun with him for sure. 

He felt his legs part as you slid in between them, metal faintly clinking as deft fingers began to unbuckle his belt. His heart pounded against his chest, taking a gulp to soothe his now parched throat. His shaky fingers wandered to his vest, unbuttoning the garment while you palmed his stiff appendage through his underwear, kissing the weeping tip through the cotton thin fabric. 

His pleasure-induced whimpers successfully stroked your ego, and you allowed yourself to indulge deeper within this abysmal erotomania. Your hands creeped up along your own legs as you stood up, brunching your skirt all the way up until you reached your own lacy undergarments. 

While stripping the flimsy article off your being, you relished in the sight of the opal-eyed male loosening his own necktie and shortly unbuttoning his white shirt. You bit your lip upon witnessing his bareness: his soft, alabaster skin teasingly peeking through the undone clothing. 

God, he's beautiful.

"Hmm. Keep those on," you sighed breathily before he could take the articles of clothing off his frame. Ominis smirked lightly at this, putting his hands up as he laid back on the backrest of the chaise lounge. You knelt before him once more, slipping both his trousers and undergarments off him at the same time. He hissed at the sudden cold air nipping against his heated skin while you purred in delight, nuzzling your face filthily against the thick, leaky appendage.

"Please, (Y/N)..." he whimpered as you traced the tip of your tongue lightly against a thick vein at the underside of his shaft, clear globs of precum leaking from the tip at your teasing ministrations. The slick muscle eventually wandered towards his blunt tip, and a hiss of unadulterated pleasure escaped his bitten red lips as his fingers ran through your (H/C) locks; all in hopes of grounding himself from this euphoric high.

"Yes... That's it...! Darling— Oh, fuck...!" he groaned through gritted teeth as his fleshy head was enveloped within the warmth of your mouth. The pleasant vibrations from your moan further stimulates his already sensitive, twitchy organ. The flat of your tongue moved at every suction, resulting in every possible form of salacious sound being torn from his mouth with little to no mercy. 

He writhed at all the sensations that engulfed his senses; his pale, veiny fingers intertwined with strands of your (H/C) hair while his other hand gripped the armrest of his seat. Fire scorched him from within his loins while his toes curled, his brain in a state of mush and primal frenzy.  

Your own slender fingers wandered towards your own weeping hole, running the pads of your fingertips along your own heated flesh. Your mind was beginning to blank out as you began to take in his increasingly heady scent, audibly gurgling as he pushed your head deeper to accommodate his entire length.

He gasped, heaving a lungful of air as the blunt tip mercilessly hit the back of your throat. All you could do was to acquiesce to his desires as he brutally bobbed your head up and down his stiff erection. Your scalped burned delightfully at his iron grip on your hair, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. 

“I’m close… So fucking close…!” he groaned. His pace quickened, bucking his hips up this time, your throat instinctively tightening up at the repetitive intrusion. The sound of gurgles and squelches turned increasingly audible as he bucked his hips up wildly with his mouth hung slightly ajar.

A salty taste soon engulfed your senses, spurts of his hot seed flooding your abused mouth. He let out a shuddering groan at the suction as he was milked dry by your mouth. You pulled your head away with a pop before swallowing his essence, licking the sides of your lips to clean up any remaining traces.

Before he could even come to his senses, he felt your lips on his once more, instantly snaking your tongue into his hot cavern. He whines, tasting himself whilst running his slick appendage against yours. His head was still spinning from his release, his sightless eyes in a daze as he inhaled through his nose, taking in your addictive scent as much as he could. As soon as your lips unlatched itself from his, he let out a soft, needy whine, to which you responded with a giggle.

“Lay down,” you instructed softly, and he complied, letting you hover over his willing body. 

Tracing your fingertips along the center of his frame, you pushed the layers of clothing aside, revealing the expanse of his smooth pale skin — he was truly a work of art, rivaling that of marble statues. He hissed as your leaking hole descended dangerously close to his shaft, which was pulsating with anticipation as it felt the warm droplets of your essence drip upon it. 

Without a warning, you pressed your soaked core directly against his member. As soon as you began rocking your hips, Ominis absolutely lost the remaining traces of his sanity, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped before gasping for air. Your warm slick coated his now throbbing member, and the intimately lewd sensation effectively fried the remainder of his rationality. A loud groan rumbled from his chest upon placing your hole against the tip, moving your hips in a circular motion. 

Fuck, he was so close to entering you.

He wants to be inside you. No, he needs to be inside you right now.

“Ah-ah-ah,” you teased disapprovingly as Ominis tried to slide his member within your aching core. You pressed down harder against his twitching shaft, earning a pleasured whimper from him in response. 

“I didn't say we could go all the way, love,” you grinned, a hint of malicious amusement present within your eyes. “But with how desperately needy you are right now, perhaps you should… Convince me.”

He groaned impatiently, the pads of his fingertips sinking onto your fleshy thighs. He shifted under your weight pathetically, his nether regions craving for the deliciously warm friction against your slicked lower lips — the addictive sensation that you had cruelly deprived him from all of a sudden. You remained still, letting out a mirthless chuckle.

Dainty fingers wrapped around his neck, followed by a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the side of his lips. Shifting yourself slightly, you reached for his stiff erection, guiding the tip to your drenched hole. The fleshy tip merely prodded your entrance, never going past the head, much to Ominis' sheer agony. 

“F-fuck… (Y/N), please!”

Oh, you loved the sound of that: the way he begs and grovels like an animal in heat just to engulf himself within your warmth — truly a boost to your already inflated ego.

“Please, what?” 

“Please let me have you… Fuck, I need you so badly right now...”

His eyes widened at the painfully slow, inching intrusion; his eyes glassy with wanton tears. There was a raging urge within him to just snap his hips up, but he dared not to cross you — he was taking no risk in ruining everything, not when he's so close to obtaining his filthiest desire of finally becoming one with you. With one hand, you removed your necktie, your eyes never leaving his vulnerable, quivering form.

“How badly do you need it, love?” you asked mockingly while he let out a shuddering gasp; your warm juices slowly trickled down his shaft, pooling at its base.

“So fucking bad… I'll do anything. Please…” he whimpered.

A smug, menacing grin broke out of your lips.

“... Anything?” you repeated.

“Anything. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Good boy.”

The wind was knocked out of his lungs the moment you descended on him, your walls fluttering around his thick, twitchy appendage. You bit your lip as you began unbuttoning your shirt while gyrating your hips, much to his sinful delight. Blood was rushing to your head, trapping you within a dizzying frenzy of lust and desire, only to be fueled further when his hands gripped your bare waist, guiding you along his shaft.

You felt so full, and he was prodding and brushing at all the right places, making your eyes roll back at every slam of your hips upon his. Your juices were dripping everywhere, and the sounds of filthy squelches and wet slaps of skin filled the room along with the shaky, breathless little moans that escaped your sweet lips. Ominis panted, snapping his hips up occasionally in hopes of drawing out a more feral response from you, to which he was successful. 

You were a wreck — disheveled, legs quivering, covered in a sheen of sweat, inner thighs drenched solely with your own juices, and a drunken grin on your face while you rubbed your sensitive little pearl.

“Fuck— R-right there!” you cried out as he brushed against a spongy spot that made your thighs shake, your domineering façade slowly disintegrating. Every thrust from him had you choking on air with how rough he slams his hips, reducing you into nothing but a moaning mess.

This was genuinely one of the few instances where Ominis is upset about his lack of sight. All he ever wanted was to see you unravel before him — to look into his eyes pleadingly, writhe in pleasure as he brought waves upon waves of pleasure on your submissively sensitive body, and to present yourself to him in every debauched position possible before he fucks you into oblivion. 

Oh, the extent he would go to just to even catch a glimpse of you, especially when you're bare — he'd worship the ground you walked on, and treat you like you were the most prized person within the entire world with no questions asked.

He'd do anything for you. Anything.

“Fuck, I'm close…!” you mewled, feeling your walls slightly spasming around his cock, causing the male to hiss at the velvety grip of your core. Your thighs began to tremble, and you heaved as you began to move faster, chasing your high. 

“Cum for me, darling. Oh fuck, you're amazing,” he pants, his mind in a drunken haze.

He pulled you into his arms, thrusting his hips wildly while breathing in your heady scent as if it's the last time he'll ever inhale a lungful of air. An airy, shuddering moan tickled his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Your walls had finally convulsed around him, and you felt spurts of his warm cum flood your long awaiting pussy. 

A sharp exhale escaped his dried mouth as you shakily let your worn-out body lay on top of him. He was still inside you, but the growing soreness in your thighs was preventing you from moving. Your heart was still hammering in your chest while your limbs felt like jelly, the exhaustion evident within your body. Ominis hadn't moved a single muscle either, his mind wandering into places, deep in thought. 

As soon as you attempted to get off him, however, his arm snaked around your waist, holding you in place. You glanced at him with tired, confused eyes.

“...Stay,” he whispers, his embrace tightening around you as if you'll disappear from his grasp anytime. The underlying neediness within his tone caused you to give into his harmless request, sinking back into the warmth of his embrace.

“...Okay.”

You nuzzled in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat with a sigh of comfort. A serene smile was present on your face as you relaxed, slowly getting lulled into a well-deserved nap in the comfort of his arms.

Willing volunteer? Check.

part 2: all’s fair in love and war >