#there's honestly no way forward that seems obvious

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xviii  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Deja Vu 

Series mlist 

Tags — cliche I fear, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, possibly offensive humour (?) 

Words — 2.1k 

You elbowed your way through groups of people, ignoring the disgruntled looks sent in your direction. You suddenly felt completely sober, the fuzziness in your mind replaced by sheer panic. Toges text repeated over and over in your mind, the possibilities forming into endless images and scenarios. As much as you wish you didn’t, you knew exactly who they were talking about. Megumi and Kamo. 

The string lights hung around the yard did little to illuminate the space, the primary source of light being whatever leaked out from the house. When the brisk outdoor air hit you, your eyes darted around, very quickly recognizing where they were. It was pretty obvious, with the crowded people and nauseating sounds of the altercation. 

Panda, being the tallest of the bunch, was the first you spotted. You used him like a landmark as you weaved your way around, joining your group of friends near the centre of the action. When you were met with the sight before you, you felt as if you’d travelled back in time. There he was, in all of his glory. Blood trickling down the side of his face, though he looked to be in a much better condition than his opponent. Megumi versus Noritoshi, a fight driven by irrational jealousy and the effects of alcohol. His knuckles were battered, the crimson evidence of his rage staining the skin over the joints. 

He was just about to pull his fist back; just about to land another hit on the man, but then his eyes met yours. They softened, undeniably so, his grip on Kamo’s shirt loosening and arm lowering. Noritoshi took this opportunity to roughly pull from his grasp, giving Megumi a shove backwards on his way. He briefly passed you as he shoved through the crowd, retreating from the scene. 

“Control your dog,” he spat roughly before leaving you slack jawed and blinking in your place. Your eyes hadn’t moved from Megumi, the world around you seeming to dissipate, leaving just the two of you. You longed to reach out to him—no, your soul longed for him, longed to feel the touch and unity of his presence. 

By what seemed like muscle memory you moved forward, grabbing Megumi’s hand and ignoring the worried shouts of your friends. The warmth of his palm–or was that blood?–pressed gently into yours, the only thing keeping you grounded as you guided him away from the people. He followed you into the house without a second thought, blinded by trust, intoxication, and familiarity all in one. You’d been here before, he knew the drill. 

The familiar muggy atmosphere greeted you as you rushed through different rooms, the building seeming like a maze as you so desperately tried to find a washroom that wasn’t occupied by students, either puking or too immersed in each other to even notice you barging in. 

He trailed behind you like a lost puppy dog the entire time. He didn’t speak a word, he didn’t know if he knew how to anymore. Honestly, he was scared. Scared to speak to you, scared that if he dared to open his mouth everything would come spilling out. The bits of him he kept tucked away deep inside were itching to reveal themselves, crawling up his throat and making it tighten with the threat of guilty tears. He could barely face you. He felt like such a complete and total asshole. Ignore you for a week, snap at you, ignore you for another week, then almost kiss you and fight your boyfriend (as he’d begun referring to him as) in the same night? Who even was he? He felt as if he’d regressed years, being the same immature brat he’d been the first time he lost you except much more angry and much more aware. Shame gnawed at him like a plague, eating him from the inside out. Not that he necessarily knew himself very well beforehand, but any grasp of his character seemed to be lost the moment he saw you with… him. 

Finally, after countless trips down hallways and up flights of stairs, you found a place. A small tile washroom with a flickering light above the sink, chilly and empty. It didn’t do much to lighten the mood as you guided him in, your hand parting from his and leaving him feeling oddly empty as he sat on the low marble counter. 

He may as well have been a mime, dead silent as he watched you search the inventory of the room for a cloth. You muttered something under your breath, he couldn’t hear you. His ears rang with anxiety and his own thoughts, growing louder and louder until they were screaming at him. ‘You fucked it all up. You’re such an idiot. No wonder she chose him.’ 

“You’re so stupid,” you huffed, extending to your full height with a washcloth in hand. Well, he knew that already. 

“Mm,” he replied, a lazy hum. He couldn’t find it in himself to respond, let alone argue. There wasn’t a point, you were right anyway. 

Suddenly you were fourteen again, scolding him for getting into yet another fight. Yet again he’d developed some rivalry with your newest love interest, for reasons you couldn’t understand. He wished you did, that would’ve made this so much easier. Despite your anger and hurt, your hands were gentle and warm, every press of the warm wet cloth against his skin a soft caress. 

“I don’t– I don’t get you, Megumi,” you began, deciding to focus intently on your handiwork to avoid looking at him. If you saw that desperate, intent look on his face, you knew you’d break. You couldn’t, not yet. Though the only thing he was thinking was that you’d said his name, the familiar syllables rolling from your tongue with ease. Just like it had when he’d gotten ahead of himself, when he’d almost kissed you. He hated the way your voice sounded when you said his last name, made something bitter swirl in his gut. 

“You’ve been so weird lately.” Your voice was soft, almost afraid. It was a tone he hadn’t heard from you before, and he hated to be the cause of it. “You walk back into my life and everything is normal, great even. We spend months getting close and I’m actually happy, and you aren’t weird at all, in fact, you’re nicer to me than anyone. Then you completely shut me out, and you won’t even tell me why. You tell me you can’t, I don’t buy it,” you took a shaky breath. Your hand had stilled, simply hovering in the air. “And then you almost kissed me, and–and then you leave. You– I–..” you began to stutter, blinking away unshed tears. His heart clenched, feeling unfamiliar and afraid. He’d only seen you cry twice, the first being he’d found you alone in the rain on a dark stormy night and the second being when he’d taken you to see some sad dog movie (which he’d insisted wasn’t a date). You never spoke of the former after that. 

“[name],” he whispered. Someone should’ve started tallying how much he’d said that tonight, you were sure they’d have a full page by now. That wasn’t a bad thing, though. 

“Do you like me or not? I’m sick of this back and forth and I’m sick of using Kamo as a distraction and I’m sick of feeling like this just because you’re a ‘coward’. Am I too much? I just need you to tell—“ 

“If you want me to tell you, you have to let me speak,” he cut you off, taking the hand holding the cloth and gently pushing it away. “You aren’t too much. That’s the thing about you, you’re just you and it’s just right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I’m a coward. It’s just– you make me feel all of these things and I hate it, makes me feel weak. I am. You make me weak and you always have, fuck– it’s been this way since middle school.” 

You drew in a breath, trying to process his words. The effects of the alcohol lingered, but the both of you had somewhat sobered up by now. 

“You deserve better. You… you deserve everything. I can’t give you that, maybe Kamo can. I see why you went for him and that’s what hurts the most,” he whispered, voice oddly gentle. His throat felt tight and he had to stop speaking or else you’d notice the way his eyes stung, voice cracking. He was always a sad, clingy drunk. 

“Can’t you see? I don’t want better. There isn’t better for me, Megumi. I haven’t even spoken to Kamo since you stopped talking to me because I realized that,” you said, a weak sob chasing your words. He stared at you, wide eyed and ridiculously pretty as he tried to process what you were saying. He wanted to believe you, but could he? 

“I’ve always loved you. Maybe if you payed more attention to that instead of swinging at every guy that glances in my direction, this could’ve gone much smoother.” 

“… you love me?” 

“Too soon?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “I just… don’t understand, I guess. I’m not exactly one to be loved.”

“Don’t say that. You’re wrong. So wrong it’s laughable, actually,” you said, feeling your lip tremble as a soft, almost sad smile crossed your face. 

You didn’t realize when you’d gotten so close. You were brought back to a few hours before, when you’d almost gotten this until todo had sauntered by. But now you were in the secluded peace of the shabby tile restroom, not the most romantic place, but that was the last thing on your minds. 

Your lips met gently, almost chaste before parting. He breathed, “I’m sorry, are you sure you–“ 

“Please.”

It was barely enough time to breathe before he was surging forward once again, this time far more passionate and with a desperation he wasn’t even sure resided in him until that very moment. You wanted him to kiss you. No, you wanted him period. He wanted to kick himself for not noticing, for spending literal years believing someone like you couldn’t feel for him as he felt for you. 

His bruised hand caressed the nape of your neck, the other slithering around your waist and tugging you closer. His brows were furrowed, the love radiating from him so deep it formed a crease between them. You both tasted like booze and the music still shook the floor with every beat, but every bit of it washed away with every passing second of his lips on yours. 

You craved him like a vampire lusted for blood, and he kissed you like a deserted man that had found his oasis. It was sloppy and messy and filled with want, teeth occasionally clashing in your drunken frenzy. You didn’t feel drunk, though, you felt more aware than you ever had in your life. In that moment you were sure he was the love of your life, and you could see the years ahead stretching before you like a calendar all planned out. You wanted to see his hair grow grey and his wisdom form lines on his face, you wanted to spend the rest of your life holding him like this. His black locks of hair were soft between your fingers, and he let out a gentle groan against your lips as you tugged. His teeth dragged over your bottom lip and you shuddered, feeling goosebumps erupt all over your skin. 

When you parted, all he could do was look at you. Almost curiously, he ran a thumb over your bottom lip, right where he’d nibbled just a moment before. 

When he met your eyes, he realized he had forgotten to say something rather important back. It was hard to say, felt as if it was stuck in his throat, but the buzz he had helped. 

“I love you,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse. He stood by the idea that you deserved better than him, you deserved more. But just this once, he wanted to be selfish. 

When you dived back in for another taste of him, you swore the declaration had made his lips taste sweeter. Sweet and soft and undeniably him, just like you liked it. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry @vivienne-jo

finally. Holy shit. I think there’ll be one more chapter after this?? Maybe two, then it’ll be 20 even I’ll see ending this feels like a divorce

[sukuna-ryo]

The Best Friend

(Preview)

Geto × Reader × Gojo pairing

Trigger warnings: NSFW content, including sexually explicit scenes (maybe). Poly Relationship (eventually). Emotional manipulation and power dynamics. Private relationship between counsellor and counselee is unethical so please don't date your therapist. MINORS DNI

You’ve been working at the corporate counseling department for a few months now, and one thing’s been constant: Gojo Satoru. The man, somehow, is always in your office. He’s the CEO of the company, but it seems like he’s always got some reason to book a session. At first, it felt like a weird formality, but now, you’ve gotten used to it. And honestly, you’re starting to understand why he needs so many counseling sessions. Gojo’s got this playful, carefree vibe that makes it hard to take him seriously. He’s the type of guy who seems like he’d rather make jokes than have a real conversation, but when he does talk about something deeper, you can see there’s more to him than just the annoying, charming guy who skips into your office like he owns the place.

One thing that keeps popping up, though, is his best friend. Gojo won’t stop talking about him, but he’s super vague. “Ah, my best friend? He’s too popular with girls. You really don’t want to know about him,” Gojo says, flashing that trademark grin. It’s almost like he’s trying to protect you from the guy, or maybe just doesn’t want you to meet him for reasons you can’t quite figure out—even though you’re only asking for counseling reasons.

As if that wasn’t enough, your best friend, Kugisaki Nobara, decided you were “ready” to get back out there, and set you up on a blind date. Of course, you tried to protest—you're not exactly looking for anything serious, especially not right now—but Nobara wouldn’t have it. She pushed you out of your comfort zone, and before you could say “philosophy,” you were sitting across from Geto Suguru, a calm, collected philosophy professor with a steady gaze and a soft smile.

Geto was, well... the opposite of Gojo. He’s polite, well-mannered, and you could tell he’s a genuinely kind person. His quiet intelligence made for interesting conversation, and unlike Gojo, Geto’s not the type to fill every second with jokes and antics. He seems to enjoy deep, thoughtful talks, which you find yourself looking forward to more with each date. Yet, there's one thing Geto mentions way too often. His best friend.

“Oh, him? Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Geto sighs, rubbing his temples. “He’s just... too annoying. I can’t even deal with him half the time. You don’t need that stress.”

You’re getting the sense that both of these guys have a mysterious best friend that’s somehow never worthy of a proper introduction. It’s all starting to feel a little too convenient. But hey, you’re just the counsellor for one, and there for good conversation and some nice dates with the other, right?

And while you’ve been getting to know them both separately, you can’t ignore the fact that you’re kind of enjoying their company. Gojo’s the kind of guy who can’t help but be annoying but somehow keeps you laughing even when he’s totally out of line. You can’t deny his charm, even if he drives you nuts sometimes. And Geto? Well, he’s just... easy to be around. Calm, collected, and honestly, you could spend hours talking to him about anything.

Sometimes, though, the way Geto talks about the world makes you pause—just for a second. It’s nothing obvious, just a word here or there, a tone that lingers too long. You brush it off, but it leaves you with an odd feeling you can’t quite shake.

You’re not exactly ready to call it anything serious, but as the weeks go by, you start realizing that you’re developing a little soft spot for both of them. They’re nothing alike, but that’s exactly what makes them so interesting.

What you don’t know, though, is that while you’re out here juggling dates and sessions with Gojo and Geto, something seems to be shifting in each of them. They both find themselves thinking about you more than they’d planned, though neither of them would admit it.

[kick-a-long]

One of your recent reblogs made me realize something: people have to dehumanize Palestinians to support them?

They dehumanize them by portraying them as inherently good/perfect and especially by portraying them as indigenous. Arabs are not indigenous to the Levant. To care about Palestinian suffering they need the indigenous narrative. But it shouldn't be like that. They're not indigenous and their oppression still matters. Arabs colonized and that's how they got there. That's been their home for a long time now so they OBVIOUSLY rightfully belong there but at the same time they are not indigenous and that's okay.

In some sick twisted way, it feels like people won't realize this fact because it will make them not care about Palestinians?

Anyway this is seriously a conversation we need to have because now they're claiming everything Jewish as Palestinian just because they cannot accept that we are indigenous and so they have to make shit up :(

yes yes yes!!! absolutely.

it's important to know because indigenousness is the only way to fit palistinians into the noble savage stereotype and it's the only way to fit jews into the colonizer roll. which is why that's such a fucked up and dehumanizing structure to try to fit this war into. no population is a perfect victim or villain and to flatten people like that is how manifest destiny and colonization really got public support. it's also an unsustainable lie that will lead to one hell of a blow back when Palestinians "betray" it by being people and not wanting to die or live under hamas. what's fucked up is that the majority of people, conservatives and centrists all across the globe see jews as noble savages and Palestinians and inhuman monsters so jews need to worry about that same "I'm actually a flawed human, not a group" betrayal too. all over the west conservatives and centrists want muslim and arab citizens of their own countries to leave, pointing to the reaction to oct 7 and terror attacks as proof of it.

now that an evangelical is about to be in charge of american policy to israel, netanyahu still in power, and israel/jews have generally already suffered for the crimes of being "colonizers" with none of the benefits my real fear is that he will annex more of the west bank, maybe even the north of gaza. which will fuck up my life in the diaspora but also isn't sustainable, ethical, or long term practical. every month liberal governments don't address those fears of terrorism and coddle the Qanon like delusions of leftists the more strength the conservative narrative gains. it just means the western world will give away more human rights in exchange for safety, and world conflict gets more likely.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[kateschi]

where pride meets love

synopsis: in a u.a. highschool reunion, your husband is up next in introducing his family.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: inspired by @call-memissbrightside

the gymnasium at u.a. is alive with activity, filled with faculty, students, and heroes from all walks of life.

katsuki’s standing near the back, holding your baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at the fabric of his hero uniform, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her.

his expression is a mix of annoyance—because honestly, this whole “family introduction” thing is a bit much—and tenderness, which only those closest to him will ever notice.

you stand beside him, your hand resting on his arm, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something different in his usual scowl—something soft.

you’ve seen it before, but only in moments like this, when he’s looking at the little life in his arms or the family he’s built.

principal nezu steps forward with a polite clap of his paws.

“thank you all for coming! we’re glad to have so many wonderful alumni here today. if anyone with families would like to introduce them, now’s your chance.”

the crowd goes quiet, waiting for someone to step up. katsuki glares around, crossing his arms over his chest, but it’s obvious he’s trying to look disinterested in the attention he’s about to receive.

it doesn’t work, though. he feels all eyes on him, even before nezu directs them that way.

you give him a small smile, teasing him with a gentle nudge to his side. “you ready to show your family off?”

he scoffs but doesn’t pull away. instead, his gaze softens just a little when he looks down at your daughter, who smiles up at him with those same bright eyes you both adore so much.

his chest swells, and despite his usual gruffness, his pride is impossible to hide.

you feel it too—the silent understanding between the two of you, the knowledge that this moment, in front of everyone, is just another reflection of how far your life together has come.

with a sigh, katsuki straightens his back, shoulders broadening as he stands a little taller. “alright, fine. let’s get this over with,” he mutters under his breath. but then he clears his throat, lifting his chin just a bit.

he shifts his daughter against his shoulder, gently adjusting her so she’s more comfortable in his arms, and with a look at you that says, here we go, he raises his voice for everyone to hear.

“this—” he gestures to your baby, her tiny hands reaching for him in her usual, curious way—“this is my kickass baby.”

he flashes a rare smile down at her, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts, before pulling you into him with his free arm, draping it over your shoulders.

“and this here,” he says, puffing his chest out slightly, “this is my kickass wife, y/n. the best damn woman in the world.”

you catch his eye, and for a brief moment, it feels like the whole room has faded away. there’s only the two of you, standing side by side, as he proudly introduces you to everyone in his own way.

a few of the students near the front start whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. kirishima, always the supportive friend, claps katsuki on the back, his grin wide.

"man, you really went all out with the family introduction, huh?" kirishima laughs, his voice loud enough for katsuki to hear.

katsuki looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

instead, it’s just the usual katsuki way of pretending to be annoyed. “shut it,” he growls, but his hand tightens around yours.

kirishima raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, you’re looking like a proud family man.”

“damn right I am,” katsuki mutters, his gaze falling back on your daughter, who is now gripping his finger as she babbles in her own little way.

his eyes soften again, a rare, unguarded moment that no one else seems to notice, but you do.

you always do.

as the buzz in the room continues around them, katsuki’s gaze remains fixed on your daughter, his lips pulling into the smallest of smiles as he watches her reach for his hand.

she’s talking—if you can call it that—her baby words tumbling out like she’s already got something important to say.

you can hear the quiet adoration in katsuki’s voice when he responds to her, low and soft, “yeah, yeah, I hear ya, kid.”

you lean into his side, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders feeling like home. it’s one of those moments where everything feels right.

amid the chaos, in front of so many people, katsuki looks just like the dad you always knew he’d be—strong, protective, and completely head over heels for the tiny person in his arms.

the crowd slowly starts to disperse, some students moving towards the refreshment table, others chatting amongst themselves.

katsuki stays still, barely noticing the shift in the room. his eyes stay locked on your baby, a tiny, content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“want me to take her?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow. “you look like you could use a break.”

katsuki looks down at your daughter, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her. she stares up at him, her big eyes soft and trusting, and for a brief second, it seems like time stands still.

then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, but the fondness in his gaze remains.

“nah,” he mutters gruffly. “she’s good here. I’m fine.”

you let out a small chuckle and settle against him, your hand resting gently on his arm as you watch your daughter settle down against his chest, a soft yawn escaping her lips.

katsuki pulls her a little closer, his other arm winding around you, bringing you both in.

the way his grip tightens around both of you, the way his hand moves just a little bit to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and the sound of the crowd fades to the background.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[pellucid-constellations]

By the Book

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and Azriel panicking <3

a/n: Enjoyyy :) And let me know what you think pleaseee!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Maybe you should try something different.” 

“Something different?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, kicking back in his chair. “Put some moves on her, give her eyes—something interesting to gain her attention.”

“I’m not just trying to gain her attention, Cassian,” Azriel grimaced. “I—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her. But you don’t want to scare her, you know?” 

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I scare her?” 

“No, no,” Cassian assured, lazily waving his hand in the shadowsinger’s direction. “But y/n’s new. She’s still got all the nerves of working for a high lord and being in court. And she’s kind of—well, you know.” 

Azriel raised a brow, remaining silent in lieu of further questions. Cassian gave him a look, one Azriel did not replicate, and then sighed dramatically. 

“Az, come on. She’s new and she’s young. She’s all innocent and skittish. If you drop all of your big feelings on her she could run for the hills.” 

“She’s not that young,” Azriel refuted, face now pressed in confusion and contemplation.

“Young enough to be shocked by a mating bond so early in her life.” 

Cassian’s words left a blanket of silence over the room. The fireplace crackled, the chair beneath Azriel groaned, and shadows wisped around bookshelves and walls. 

“Is it obvious?”

“No,” Cassian shook his head, straightening his lax posture. “I was honestly just confirming a hunch. But now that I know…” 

“What should I do?” Azriel stressed. 

“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned from Nesta’s interesting choice in literature.” 

~~

Azriel had waited all day for you to show up at the townhouse. Radiating nervous energy only visible in the way he continuously shook out his hands, the spymaster was armed with an arsenal of tactics Cassian swore by and a vigorous motivation. 

Part of him had been wary of the “smooth moves” the general had shared, but another part took his brother’s warnings to heart. He didn’t want to scare you off and you were rather young. Not a child by any means, but if Azriel had found his mate within his first hundred years, he probably would have panicked. 

And you were just reaching a centennial.

Gods, and Rhysand had only just hired you a few months ago. 

Before Azriel could spiral and abandon his possibly catastrophic plans, you walked in. 

Arm and arm with Feyre, you breezed through the front door with a canvas in hand and a laugh still fresh on your lips. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond or just you that caused his chest to ache. 

When you caught his eye, a bright smile plastering onto your face, Azriel deduced that it was just you. 

“Hi, Az,” you called, unwinding yourself from Feyre and stepping close enough for Azriel to scent the paint mixing in with the sweet smell of your perfumes. “I stopped by Feyre’s studio after work. I painted the Sidra but it looks… well, just look at it.” 

Azriel trailed his gaze down to the painting, but much of him was still lost in the giggle that followed your words. The “Sidra” was more of a collection of uneven lines and dots meant to be clouds, but Azriel found himself offering a few gentle compliments despite it all. 

You tugged the painting down to your side with a disbelieving scoff, quirking a brow at the shadowsinger. “Do you make it a habit to lie to me, Az?” 

There was paint on your cheek—just a small splotch, but enough to grab his attention. 

“If she has something on her face, you reach up and get it for her. But you have to get real close and grab her face. And look into her eyes—yeah that part was important.”

Azriel’s wings rustled in anticipation at the opportunity, but he pulled them in tightly and hoped you missed the tell. The shadowsinger took a small step forward and tucked his fingers behind your ear, letting his palm press against your jaw and his thumb swipe along the paint by your nose. 

One, two passes and the pigment was gone, but he hadn’t looked into your eyes yet and Cassian said that was key. 

Hazel eyes shot up to meet your wide, unblinking gaze. Azriel held his hand against your skin for another moment, relishing in the feel of you as your mouth parted to take in a sharp breath. That sharp inhale was followed by a shaky exhale, and Azriel decided that was a good cue to release his hold. 

And although his mind was running rampant with a slew of emotions and panicked thoughts, he took a step back and looked at his thumb nonchalantly. 

“There was paint on your cheek,” he stated, because Cassian also said he needed to act stoic. 

Azriel already considered himself stoic, but that was before he had held your face in his hands. 

At some point, the painting in your hands had fallen to the tips of your fingertips, the canvas just barely hanging from your grip. You licked your lips and stuttered out a few incoherent utterances before landing on, “Oh, thank you.” 

Azriel nodded, and a beat passed with only the whisper of shadows and the shallow intake of breath. 

Until a throat was cleared behind you, and Azriel distinctly remembered that you had not walked in alone. Avoiding his high lady’s knowing gaze, Azriel jutted his hand out to a random wall in the townhouse. 

“Should we hang it up?” 

~~

You were leaning against a wall in the House of Wind, forgotten drink in hand, gazing around the room with a content gleam in your eye. Rhysand had these parties every once in a while, but this was your first time attending one. The soft way you looked at his family—at Nyx and the stubborn way he escaped his parents—made Azriel’s throat tighten. 

You were part of that family now too, whether you knew it or not. 

You were part of him—a piece of his being just steps away. 

“You put your arm above her head and talk low. If you’re feeling adventurous, a hand on her waist.” 

Right. Cassian said not to scare you. 

Revealing his undying love for you would most likely scare you. 

Azriel abandoned his drink on a platter and closed the space between you. 

Arm above your head. 

Talk low. 

A hand on your waist? Maybe. 

This was ridiculous. Azriel knew how to talk to women. He had spoken to plenty of women and they had been more than happy to oblige him. Azriel knew he was attractive and was considering throwing this whole plan away, but then you looked up at him and he found himself placing his arm above your head anyway. 

Mother save him. 

He pressed in close, his forearm just inches from your head as he gave you a soft smile. “Hello,” he greeted, sure to keep his words low.

You wrapped your drink in towards your chest and smiled back, lashes fluttering as the shadowsinger held your gaze. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you smiled back. 

Shit, what was he supposed to do now? 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, only because you were so pretty and the bond within him was glowing with so much warmth that he could think of nothing else to say. 

You hummed. “It’s rather lively. It’s nice that Rhys invites so many of his people. I really do love this court.” 

I love you. 

No, he couldn’t say that. 

“I’m glad you approve.”

Stoic. Perfect. 

A gentle conversation flowed between you. Azriel hung his head low as he discussed past parties and strangers and restaurants along common streets, and you angled your chin up so the words spoken were just breaths away. Azriel did not move from his position and you did not escape further into the wall. 

“Do these go all night?” you asked, breaking eye contact for one of the first times since Azriel’s arrival. 

He looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Sometimes. With Nyx around, maybe not tonight.” 

You took a sip of your drink. 

Azriel turned back around. 

The pull to you was inescapable. He glanced down at your waist, the way you had turned to your side to look at him directly, and then he reached out. 

His hand fit perfectly, shadows sliding out to wrap around your body. Azriel took the time to watch how his fingers pressed up to your ribs, and then, in an act much bolder than he felt, he tugged you forward and lowered his mouth to your ear. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

You had placed your hands on his chest during his unexpected motion, your fingers tight against his shirt. “A little,” you breathily replied. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his lips. Just a small turn of his head and he would taste it as well. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

No, Cassian had said—

“Azriel?” Your call threw him out of his thoughts. Pulling back, he met your eye. “Are you tired, too? I think I might turn in early.” 

Were you asking him to follow you? 

He would follow you anywhere. For anything. 

But if he were overstepping… 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Or fly you back to your apartment?” 

You took a step back, Azriel’s hand slipping from your body. 

A piece of him melted away at the loss. 

You bit back what looked to be a smirk. “I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Az?” 

He watched you walk away from him, silently cursing Cassian. 

This had to have been his fault somehow. 

~~

The next opportunity Azriel got was accompanied by a flurry of concern. 

He had come to walk you home from the clinic after a long day with Majda, his shadows informing him that you were tired, overworked, exhausted. When he opened the door to your disheveled figure slumped over a counter, the bond within him sent him rushing to you. Or perhaps it was just an intrinsic drive—just the love he held for you.  

“The hair is a big one. Tuck it back behind her ear. The males in Nesta’s books always go for that one.” 

To be honest, Azriel wanted to do much more than tuck your hair behind your ear. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and fly you home and tuck you into bed. But Cassian had warned him against grand acts, so the shadowsinger accepted your tired smile with a soft one of his own. 

“A bad day?” he softly asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning over the counter. 

His hands fell just a small breadth from yours. 

You sighed in agreeance, forehead meeting the wood between you before turning back up to the male. “Come to laugh at me?” 

Your hair had fallen into your face. 

“Never,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve come to walk you home.” 

“Hmm, always walking me somewhere, aren’t you?” 

A confused smile graced the shadowsinger’s face, and then he took his brother’s advice and brushed fingers against your temple, sweeping your hair from your eyes. His touch ran down the slope of your ear, your lashes fluttering at the texture of his skin. Azriel gave into temptation and traced a line down your jaw as well, taking advantage of the tire that seemed to overcome you as you leaned into his touch. 

Cassian’s tips seemed to work so much better when the two of you were alone. 

But not too well, Azriel reminded himself, the male beginning to pull his hand from your face. 

You caught his wrist in your unsteady hand. 

“When are you going to tell me?” you accused, a slight squint in your eye. “I really do appreciate all of the stops you’re pulling out, but I’m wondering when you’ll stop walking me home and start being honest.” 

Azriel’s mouth parted in shock. “What do you—” 

“The hand on my waist was a good touch, I will say. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Especially not after you forgot to kiss me and instead offered to hang up my gods-awful painting.”

Azriel felt his face begin to heat. There was no way you had picked up on his flirting so quickly. But, Azriel thought in mortification, he had been stiff, paused too many times trying to remember Cassian’s words. Maybe he had been obvious. 

Oh, Gods. 

“Azriel,” you called. A soft call accompanied by a slight tilt of your head. He looked at you despite himself, lost in the haze you created in his mind. “Are you going to tell me now?” 

Cassian had been wrong, clearly, because the way you looked at him was so sure. You held his hand against your face and a tired smile still lit up your features and you didn’t look scared at all. 

And then the bond within him moved. 

A tug. 

And then another 

You had known all along. 

“You’re my mate.” He stumbled over the words, each falling from his mouth with haste. “My mate.” 

“I am,” you whispered, turning his hand on your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. “And you are mine.” 

“I’m going to kill Cassian,” Azriel mumbled under his breath, but the sound was lost between breaths as you surged forward to kiss him.

And Gods, did he kiss you back. He kissed you and kissed you and forgot every bit of advice from Nesta’s books, because he didn’t need it. All he needed was you and every iteration of the future that was now promised between lips. 

He should have known better than to ask for advice. 

You were his mate. 

He didn’t need sly moves to win you over. 

He didn’t need anything. Just you.

[augustinewrites]

tsumiki asks the question on a rare, relaxed saturday afternoon. with both the kid’s baseball games canceled due to some heavy morning rain, the four of you were taking the time to do some much needed relaxation. 

“how did you guys end up together?” 

satoru lifts his head from your lap, where you’d been plucking his brows. “isn’t it obvious? it was due to my roguishly handsome good looks and sharp comedic wit.” 

megumi scoffs from his spot on the armchair. “i doubt that.”

you press your cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder, laughing. “that’s cute, babe, but do you want to tell them how it really happened? or should i?”

“i’ll tell them,” he volunteers. “because i have been in love with you a lot longer than you might think.”

_____

satoru meets you when he’s seventeen years old. (it’s a stupid age. ‘cause when you’re seventeen, you’re all hormones and ego and think the world revolves around you.) 

so he doesn’t pay you much mind when yaga first introduces you to his little class, because honestly? he’d taken one look at you, fresh out of the countryside with your perfectly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place or a battle scar on your body and was extremely underwhelmed. so he’d brushed you off like lint on his sleeve, because he doubted you’d even survive the year. no point in getting to try and know you. 

that same afternoon, you’d unleashed hell on him with your shikigami and almost broken his nose. 

“i’m sorry,” you’d muttered when you’d forcibly accompanied him to the infirmary. 

“you don’t sound sorry,” he’d huffed. his nose (and his ego) were definitely bruised. 

you rolled your eyes and muttered something that was probably really mean under your breath. he’s about to tell you off when he feels blood start to drip again, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back.

“you’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” you sigh, handing him another folded up piece of paper towel. 

he doesn’t take it, glaring down at you. “why would i do that?”

shoko and geto walk behind you both, highly amused by your bickering. “they’d be good together, don’t you think?”

“if they don’t kill each other first.” the latter chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes you both. 

“if you tilt your head forward, then the blood drips out and not in–”

“why? that’s where the blood is supposed to be.”

“no, it’s not, and if you’d just let me finish what i was saying instead of interrupting me–”

it’s not the last time he interrupts you. it’s not the last time the two of you bicker or the last time he walks with you through the courtyard. days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and even though you’d almost broken his nose that first day, he quickly realizes that he couldn’t imagine you anywhere but with him. 

_____

it’s late when he sneaks out of your room, sunset streaming through the courtyard as he peeks around the corner, on the lookout for any faculty before he dashes back to the boy’s dorm…

…only to run into geto, who’s standing outside. he feels bad for a second, because they haven’t really talked since…well, everything.

but he just flicks his cigarette, grinning in that all too knowing way of his. “what were you doing in the girl’s wing, creeper?”

“nothing,” he lies, but his cheeks are warm, there are butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

his best friend looks at him. really looks at him. “oh, man. you’re so obvious.”

“i’m not obvious, you’re obvious,” he retorts.

geto takes another drag before holding it out to him. gojo shakes his head. “you’re one of the smartest, yet dumbest people i know. so i’m going to help you now, because i think without guidance, you are capable of making extremely rash romantic decisions.”

“that’s not true–”

“it’s very true. like that fact that you’re in love with…” geto nods his head towards the girl’s dorm, grinning. 

he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket when he feels heat crawl up his neck, looking away. “that’s ridiculous. i’m not…it’s not like that. we’re just…hanging out.”

“really?” his friend checks. “because the way that you look at her, i mean…wow. we’ve all seen it. you look at her like you hear tiny forest animals singing whenever she walks into a room.” 

satoru bristles slightly, because he’s not entirely off the mark. 

(but seventeen is a stupid age, and at the time he knew he cared for you deeply, but he didn’t know he loved you yet.)

geto knows though, and just shrugs. “i know you’ll see it someday too.”

_____

“do these shoes go with my outfit?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

gojo shrugs, hardly even glancing up from his phone. “sure.” 

“you didn’t even look!” 

he exhales a harsh breath, tossing his phone onto your bed as he looks up at you. “why are you trying so hard for some guy you don’t even like? i mean– have you even met him?”

“no,” you sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “but me meeting him is really important to my father.” 

he leans back against your headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “why?”

“because a proposal from the kamo clan is a really big deal.” you startle when he sits up so fast that his glasses fall from their perch atop his head. “oh my– what’s wrong?!”

“everything about that sentence. a proposal? as in to be wed?”

“yes, gojo,” you confirm, turning back to adjust your earrings in the mirror. “i was born outside of the zen’in clan, but i have their inherited technique. my dad…all these years he’s worked hard to keep me off their radar so i wouldn’t be stuck there. so i wouldn’t be unhappy like he was. if i accept this proposal and join the kamo clan…all his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.” 

“the kamo clan,” he repeats, shaking his head. he’s not sure why he’s so annoyed. it’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason. “they’re based in kyoto. you’d– you’d have to leave.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but all the unsaid things that he’s been too scared to admit to himself (and especially to you) must be written all over his face, because you hesitate before you step out the door, looking back at him hopefully. 

“have fun,” is all he says instead, pretending not to notice when your expression falls. “i’ll probably be out when you get back, but just text so i know you’re alright and haven’t already been whisked off to kyoto.”

_____

“but you never joined the kamo clan,” tsumiki notes, sending you a questioning look. “why did your dad to change his mind?”

“i…actually still don’t know,” you admit, smiling softly. “he’s never told me.” 

“well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. ‘cause you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” satoru grins. he presses a soft kiss to your lips, but pulls back with a laugh when the kids groan loudly. “on that note, i’m going to start cleaning up.” 

megumi, who’d been silent the entire story, gets up to help, trailing after him into the kitchen.

“it was you,” he says once you and tsumiki are out of earshot.

satoru sets the stack of plates on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at him. “hm?”

“you made some kind of deal with her family, didn’t you? like you did for me.” 

he doesn’t answer right away, moving leftover vegetables into a container. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

besides, that was then and this was now. he’s older and wiser and he knows that he’s loved you since he was seventeen years old.

_____

your father seems taken aback, and not just because satoru gojo was standing in his study, but because of what he was proposing. “excuse me?”

blue eyes land on a photo of you on your father’s desk. you’re cherished here. loved. letting you go must be hard, even if it’s for your own good. “you want to keep her away from the zen’in’s right? if she joins the gojo clan, we’ll make the idea of even coming near her radioactive.” 

“but the only way to do that is–”

“marriage. to me, specifically,” he finishes with an easy shrug, as if he’s merely speaking about the weather. “quick, easy, simple. now you can reject the kamo clan’s proposal.”

your father is a smart man, that much is obvious. he’s kept you out of the zen’in’s grasp for years, even after news of your inherited technique had spread. there’s no way he’d turn down a deal as good as this.

“i have nothing to offer you,” he says now, expression pinched. “no dowry, or things of the like.”

“i don’t need your money,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “in fact, i only have three conditions.”

gojo’s three conditions

[transhitman]

Ok I posted about this in anger a while back but I'm gonna say it more intelligently and actually tag it because I think it's something people need to hear. Something that bugs me about how people talk about the morality of the men in this game is that a lot of analysis totally glosses over Anya's motives and what she actually asks of people, and in doing so once again strips her of agency. Like. The reason Curly sucks isn't because he failed to properly punish Jimmy, it's because he ignored Anya in favor of her abuser. He didn't listen to her regarding how to move forward, he didn't give her a way to protect herself. No matter what he would have done to Jimmy, Anya is still traumatized and in danger, and that's the most important point of failure.

I think a lot of people are projecting a revenge fantasy on Anya, and while I'm not gonna argue about the validity of revenge here, for Anya specifically I think that's a major mischaracterization. She's the one who says that our worst moments don't make us monsters. And while yes, this could just be her trying to appease her abusers, she still doesn't strike me as a particularly vindictive person. She's a nurse, symbolically in a role associated with care and healing. Before the crash, she seems like a very soft-spoken and restrained person. Hell, she can't stand giving Curly his meds because she feels so bad for him. There isn't really a point in the game where she calls for violence at all. And even if punishing Jimmy or Curly is morally correct (subjective), saying that it's what anyone Should have done still glosses over Anya's wants and needs. It still centers the abuser, even in vitriol.

It's especially weird to see people judge Swansea on these grounds, because like... We don't know what his dynamic with Anya was like. We don't actually know what she said to him, if she even confided about her pregnancy or the SA at all! I honestly think Swansea's actions give more credence to the idea that Anya herself wanted a peaceful resolution. The whole "Oh, I'm holding it together" thing, him becoming more hostile after speaking with Anya... He waits until Daisuke AND ANYA are dead before trying to kill Jimmy. I think the obvious reading is that he wants Jimmy dead, but Anya asked him not to do anything crazy. Genuinely, I think Anya just wanted to be safe. She wanted out above everything. She didn't want more violence. The only violence she commits is against herself in the end, in order to escape this hell her coworkers made for her.

And like. Swansea is kind of the only one who actually did try to protect Anya in a meaningful way. I won't say that he couldn't have done more for her - all of the men on that ship failed her in some regard - but Swansea intentionally keeps the axe out of Jimmy's hands. He keeps the pod a secret, probably to give to Daisuke, but we can't say anything for sure. I joke that Swansea should have killed Jimmy from the start, but if we're being real that would have been an insane thing to do given what the characters know. But Swansea isn't the point of this post. Like. Idk I just think it's really bizarre that when people discuss Anya's assault, they still do it from the perspective of the men involved. It's weird and I don't like it. Like people have said before me: it's not enough to hate abusers, you have to love victims.

[magniloquent-raven]

this post has been haunting me. i'm weak for beefy men in pretty underwear and @theweewooshow left an open invitation in the tags that i could not resist 😭 i was gonna say i can't believe this is the first fic i'm posting about these two, but honestly it kind of tracks.

hope yall enjoy!!

**

One of the things Tommy's always liked about Evan is how emotional he is. Expressive, is the word, maybe. Vibrant. It was one of the first things he noticed when they met. Poor kid was radiating nerves. The way his hands fidgeted in his pockets, and he wouldn't stop pacing while Tommy was double-checking their gear.

It's kind of fascinating to Tommy, watching Evan light up when he's happy, wilt when he's tired, always seeming to feel every emotion with his entire body.

All that to say...Tommy notices right away that something's up. There's a tiny, reactive part of him that wants to say wrong, something's wrong, but Evan's not pulling away, he just. Froze up for a second. It could've been a twinge in his bad leg when he climbed into Tommy's lap, or any number of other blips that won't completely derail the nice evening they're having.

But on the off chance...

Tommy carefully rearranges his grip, settling his hands comfortably on the small of Evan's back instead. "Everything okay?" He keeps his tone as light as his touch, and watches Evan's expression closely. Their eyes meet only briefly.

"No, uh, yeah." Evan's gaze skitters down, roaming Tommy's face, then darting away. "I, um." He grimaces, and shifts in place. The warm weight of his thighs is distracting. He's still a solid presence in Tommy's lap, and making no move to change that, despite his sudden singular focus on toying with the drawstring of Tommy's sweater.

The corners of his mouth are pursed into a frown that Tommy thinks about kissing away. That thought gets gently pushed to the side. Talking first, he reminds himself. Especially because... "If you're not in the mood anymore, that's okay."

Those—pink, perfect, God—lips part around a huff, half-curved into a grin. "That's kind of the opposite of the problem," he laughs.

Tommy can't help but mirror the smile, even if it's only a tiny one. "So, what is the problem?" He trails his fingertips up the line of Evan's spine, and down again, retracing the path when he feels Evan lean into the touch.

"It's...well, not hard to explain, exactly, but. I kinda wasn't expecting to explain..." He sighs, loud and exaggerated, and falls forward to plant his face in the crook of Tommy's neck, where he continues, slightly muffled, "How do you feel about lace?"

It's not what he was expecting to hear. Though, he's not sure what he was expecting. "Can't say I've thought much about it, to be honest."

He dated a girl back in the day who liked lingerie. She was always asking him what he thought about various scraps of silk and velvet, and it was all...very awkward. He always told her he'd like her just as much in cheap cotton and a borrowed t-shirt, which. In retrospect, was ironically true. When she broke up with him she accused him of being cold. Withholding. He brushed it off as neediness on her part.

He suppresses a wince at the memory.

Evan wraps Tommy's drawstring around his index finger, slowly curling it around his knuckle. "My ex. Taylor. She liked it. She liked...me. In it."

...Oh?

He can't picture it. Not in a bad way, he's not put off by the idea—very much the opposite—but when he tries, the mental image just...blurs. His brain is trying to mesh Evan with his hazy memories of things he never paid much attention to, and it's coming up frustratingly empty.

Tommy is very proud of how calm and steady he sounds when he says, “And…this was something you liked too?”

Warm air tickles the underside of his jaw. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Why are you telling me this now?” He feels like there’s something he’s missing. Something obvious he should have realized, if only he wasn’t so preoccupied with the way Evan’s thighs are flexing, his hand sneaking under the hem of Tommy’s hoodie, skin-to-skin, palm skimming his side, and the hot, tingling press of mouth-on-neck.

“Wanna find out?”

The second he nods he almost wishes he hadn’t, because all at once Evan is gone, and Tommy’s left sitting on his couch in a horny daze, blinking up at his slyly grinning boyfriend. As nice as the view is, his lap is cold now.

Evan thumbs his waistband. There’s excitement sparkling in his eyes, bright and shining, but he hesitates a moment before taking a deep breath and dropping his shorts around his ankles.

Oh.

So…lace. Tommy’s having feelings about lace. Not much in the way of thoughts yet. But feelings, definitely. The sudden rush of heat that burns through him leaves him a little light-headed, all the blood in his veins fizzing like he’s a can of soda someone just popped the tab on. His fingers itch to reach out, he aches with want, desire pooling low in his gut.

Thing is, they’re not even anything too fancy, as far as Tommy can tell. He has vague memories of his ex—and good God does he suddenly feel like he owes her even more of an apology—in complicated woven ribbons and things that probably looked like a crate of bungee cords in whatever bag they came in. Evan is just wearing…panties. Simple, pale blue, lacy panties. There’s a little bow on the front, and it’s unreasonably cute.

Evan hikes up his t-shirt a little, so Tommy can get a better look, presumably. Which he appreciates. He’s losing his mind a little over the trail of light blond hair under his belly button disappearing into soft blue lace. He wants to follow it with his tongue.

The attention is making Evan hard. Tommy’s not sure what his face is doing exactly, but whatever it is, Evan seems to appreciate it. He’s filling out that pouch in the front so fucking well, it’s making Tommy’s mouth water.

“So, uh. Good?” Christ, he sounds breathless and Tommy hasn’t even touched him yet.

It takes all of Tommy’s willpower to drag his gaze up to Evan’s face, but it’s worth the effort. His cheeks are flushed a happy pink, creased by a grin he’s failing to restrain even with his bottom lip trapped by his teeth. The blue in his eyes is a nearly-invisible ring around his dilated pupils, and shadowed by his heavy-lidded expression.

“Evan,” he says, a little hoarse. It’s all he can say without laughing hysterically at the sheer understatement of good. Without telling Evan, in detail, exactly how badly he needs to suck him off through that fabric. How vividly he’s imagining what it would feel like against his own cock, wondering if he could cum just from rutting against Evan’s lace-clad ass while he squirms and begs to be fucked properly.

And more importantly, it’s all he needs to say.

The rest he can just show him.

[yandere-sins]

God I love Drugged! Darling. It's fucked up but I like it. I've been having thoughts about what with a drugged darling escaping but then starting to go through withdrawal for whatever they've been dosed up on leading to their recapture

Mhm, delicious!! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Warning for Yandere and Drugs (+ side-effects like sickness)

»»———————— �� ————————««

♡ It's been a while since your last hit, and honestly, you've been doing great! You would have run away much earlier if you knew it would be that easy. You feel so damn unstoppable as you make your way through the forest, unable to feel your feet hurting or your heart crying for a break. It's so freeing! Life is suddenly good again! You thought you'd be on the leash of that madman forever, but looking back at it now, you never realized how strong and capable you were of taking care of yourself. He tried to tell you that you were nothing without him, that you needed him. But you don't need anyone; you have all the power you need!

♡ Slowly, you come to a halt. Surely you ran far enough away from the horror house your yan kept you in, right? You've been running for hours, and not even branches or bushes could stop you even though they tried to hold you back by bumping into you and snagging your clothes, little scratches littering your body as you seek shelter from the nightfall in an abandoned building. At least you'll be safe from the wind and rain if the weather changes, it seems suitable for your first night of freedom even though there's no comfort in the cold walls. But being able to choose where you rest for the night is enough to make you feel ecstatic, it's been so long since you've been given the choice to do what you wanted.

♡ Truth be told, you could have continued onwards, maybe even made it back to the city before sunrise if you kept running. Your heart was still pumping the blood through your veins vigorously, and your legs only started to wobble the moment you slowed down the pace. When you lean forward to sit on the floor, your knees cave in, and you drop to the ground, smashing your face into the cold concrete, but all you can do is laugh. It didn't hurt you at all. This is what freedom is all about, and your body knows it. You could have gotten up at any second; you were strong and amazing. You had gotten away all on your own without any help, and life was getting good again. But before you realize the change inside of you, you are overcome with exhaustion. Whatever! You have all the time in the world, now that you escaped! No one can stop you anymore, especially not that psycho who kidnapped you in the first place! A little rest, and you'd be up and running the last stretch, finally reuniting with civilization. Everything would be okay again!

♡ When you wake up just a couple hours later, you feel the cold sweat clinging to your skin like a faint reminder of failure. The sun was still far from rising, the ground hard and icy. Every bone in your body is rigid, and a mighty headache blooms in your head, pushing and punching against your skull as if trying to break out. Nothing could have warned you from throwing up the second you sat up, your stomach too empty to produce vomit, yet you gag and dry heave as if your life depends on it. With tears falling from your eyes, you wipe your mouth, looking up at your blurry surroundings and wondering where you are. Even when you plant your feet firmly on the ground, the second you try to shift your weight onto your legs, you crumple to the ground again helplessly. Despite the obvious pains, you can barely feel your aching muscles, yet they don't let you get up even one inch from the ground.

♡ As you sit there, listening to the bird chirping in the trees above you, every sound feels like a smack over the head, the world spinning madly. You try to recollect what happened and try to think about your intentions and goals. It all seems so far away. You are thirsty beyond anything you have ever felt, your throat clenching desperately every time you swallow. The feeling makes you want to throw up again, but you breathe deeply until it disappears. It's all you can do as you lie inside the dilapidated building. Where have you gone wrong? Why did you feel so free and light yesterday, but now you cannot even move? Life was supposed to be good now... why doesn't it feel that way.

♡ "Look who's finally calmed down," someone remarks, followed by the sound of a foot hitting a bottle. The screeching grates on your nerves, and you cover your ears with your hands, trying to block it out. "What a dinky place..." the voice mutters, and it is so much closer now, even through your covered ears. Someone touches your face, wiping a thumb along your lips. You feel the wet dirt and spit being pushed aside as the warm touch lures you out of your defenses. Your headache has prevented you from realizing it, but when you look into the face of the person who captured you, you flinch. How could they find you? You had run so far!

♡ "Thought you gotten away?" they mock you, grinning smugly at the perplexed look on your face. "Darling, you've barely made it ten minutes from our home."

♡ A small part of you wonders if they are telling the truth, but another wave of nausea hits before you can ponder it. "I feel sick," you mumble as you bend over, crying as violent contractions go through you. "I don't know what's going on."

♡ "There, there," the yan comforts you, rubbing your back with their warm hand, a groan escaping you from how good it feels when their warmth seeps into your frigid bones and muscles. "It's okay now, I got you."

♡ "No..." you mewl, slightly pushing away from your captor. Every inch of your being wants to throw yourself into their warmth, but your clouded, unfocused mind knows better. You push away from them harder, losing your balance and threatening to collapse on your side, but they catch you. "No, I've gotten so far! I left you behind for good!"

♡ "And you got sick and injured while doing it; I'm so proud of you," they mumble sarcastically as they pull you into their arms, lifting you off the ground. You hate how soft they are, how well you can rest your aching head on their broad shoulder. You desire their touch all over you just so you can feel their warmth equally everywhere. "I don't need you... don't want you," you mutter as you sling your arms sleepily around their neck.

♡ "Yes, well, you need a bath and want some of your medicine, I'm sure," your captor mumbles, their steps so light as they carried you through the woods you had run through just yesterday. You know they lied about the distance when it took them forever to get back to the gruesome place they called home. You even doze off as they rub your back, nuzzling your face into their body and making them chuckle.

♡ "I hate you," you whisper as you stay still in the bathtub, letting them wash off all the dirt and blood from your body. The hot water feels outrageously good, and everything smells wonderfully like your favorite soap. They knead all the sore spots on your body, and before they started washing you, they made sure you drank almost an entire bottle of water and ate a chocolate bar from your favorite brand. You never want to get out of the bath again, but although their hands linger uncomfortably on your body for a while, soon your captor pulls the plug, and you whine as the bathwater disappears.

♡ Your captor sighs as they look down at your battered and limb body, your eyes hooded with exhaustion. You still feel sick to your stomach, but with the water gone, a chill rakes over your skin, making you shiver. Before you can try to move yourself, you are wrapped into a soft towel and lifted out of the bath and onto the bed instead. Your captor puts a warm hoodie over your head before letting you fall into the plush around you, and you sigh contentedly. The moment you lay down on the soft mattress, all your resistance and plans to leave are pushed far, far out of your mind. All you want is to bundle up in a blanket and sleep away the sickness that had overcome you.

♡ Complaining when your kidnapper does nothing to help you bury yourself in pillows and blankets, you grumble when you feel their weight dip the mattress to your left. The grating sound of the drawer beside the bed being opened leaves you exasperated and you try to roll away from your captor. "Come on," your captor coos gently, catching your arm that you thought you did a good job hiding from him. Not good enough, apparently, as you feel your sleeve being pulled up, the cold air biting against your skin.

♡ "I'm tired," you complain, and they hum in acknowledgment. "You can sleep in just a second. I just want you to feel better soon and be on your best behavior tomorrow. I hate seeing you so sick and having to pick you up from a random ditch in the forest." With your mess of a mind, you find no fault in what they are saying. You don't want to be sick either anymore; you want to feel light and happy again, able to run and make plans to escape this awful person you hate so much.

♡ "Now give me your arm; stop twisting it," they order, and you comply, pouting. You know you'll feel better soon and can finally fight them again. But not right now. You need to get better first. Some medicine, and surely, you'd be up and running in no time.

♡ "Here we go, and I didn't overdo it this time."

[sweetbans29]

Rules - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Calrk x Reader

Summary: You have one rule and Caitlin tries to break it (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, smitten CC, slightly suggestive (if you squint), FLUFF

Word Count: 2.5k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I don't know how I feel about my writing in this one.

Junior year. You're halfway through your college career and have made the decision to enter into the transfer portal. The decision was made after a really messy situation on your team that was so bad it had you moving schools.

It turned out to be for the better as you are now a Hawkeye. You were quickly picked up by Coach Bluder and the Hawkeyes once you entered the portal. It was a win-win considering they were trying to recruit you during high school but you ultimately decided to go to a school in Connecticut.

Your move was seamless. Moving into Iowa was made easy thanks to your roommate, Kate. You had met her a few times before and really admire her leadership both on and off the court. She helped you get settled in and even showed you around campus. It was really nice having someone who could help you get your footing.

It's a Tuesday morning when you first step foot into Carver for the first training day of the summer. It had been a fairly quick turnaround from talking to your old coach, moving, and jumping into training. You were honestly grateful for it, it gave you less time to think about the events of the previous season.

Kate's by your side as you walk into the locker room to get ready for practice. She introduces you to a few of the girls before you even step foot on the court. One person you haven't met but were really looking forward to meeting is the one and only Caitlin Clark. You have been watching her game since both of your freshman years and believe that you would work really well together on the court. You don't see her in the locker room but know you'll be seeing her soon. Once you're ready, you make your way out to court and start talking with some of the coaching staff.

Caitlin comes running into the locker room, throwing everything she owns into her locker as she quickly throws her practice jersey on and runs to catch up with Kate.

"Just on time, speedy," Kate teases her best friend. "Your shirt's backward too."

Caitlin curses as she quickly changes it to the right direction as she walks onto the court. The second her head pops through her shirt, she sees you.

Her first impression is that you are gorgeous. You stand there with a natural confidence as a smile peaks through during your conversation. She watches how your body language is open and welcoming, the complete opposite of what she would be in a new team.

"As you all know, we have a few people to introduce," Coach Bluder says to get the ball rolling. "Starting with our incoming freshmen - Taylor, Jada, and Hannah."

Everyone welcomes them.

"We also have a transfer," Coach says as she introduces you and where you transferred from. You give a smile and wave.

Caitlin feels like she is going to pass out - when you smile at the team, you look directly at her.

"Can't wait to get to know all of you," you say. Your voice is like music to Cait's ears.

Practice begins and it being the first summer training is filled with getting the team familiar with each other. It is mostly for the freshman, you remember your freshman year and how exciting but terrifying starting summer training was. You instantly connect with Jada and Hannah. You find them to be the sweetest human beings.

Meanwhile, Caitlin can't seem to take her eyes off you.

"I'm worried your eyes are going to fall out of your head," Kate bumps Caitlin's arm. Caitlin's head whips around.

"Hmm, what did you say?" Caitlin says reluctantly looking away from you.

"Care to be any more obvious?" Kate says with a laugh.

"I don't know what you mean," Caitlin says now looking down at her shoes.

"Bro, you are too obvious," Kate pushes Caitlin. "You can at least keep it in your pants - you just met the girl."

"Shut it," Caitlin warns and pushes Kate back. She straightens up when she sees you walking over to them.

"Hi," you say and Caitlin is ready to fall to her knees. She hopes you don't notice how they buckle a little under your gaze, Kate for sure notices though.

"Hey," Caitlin says trying her hardest to sound normal.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you ever since the transfer got finalized," you say as you extend your hand to shake hers.

Caitlin almost blacks out. The most beautiful girl she has ever laid eyes on knows who she is and was actually waiting to meet her - is this a dream? All she can do is smile like a little schoolgirl and stare at you. Kate bumps her arm signaling to her that you are standing there sort of awkwardly waiting with your hand out waiting to shake hers. Caitlin wipes her hands on her shorts and then goes to shake your hand. You don't stop smiling.

Caitlin on the other hand could facepalm at how dorky she is being right now.

The rest of practice goes pretty smoothly - aside from Cait's staring. Kate has to nudge the girl several times because her staring became a little too obvious - at least to everyone except you.

After practice, Caitlin practically begs Kate to let her come over, which she does. She also invites the rest of the team.Caitlin doesn't care because all she can think about is getting to know you more.

The team is over at your apartment and decided it would be fun to do some baking and just hang out. You learn Caitlin can make the best chocolate cookies known to man.

"Caitlin, these are the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever had," you say as your eyes roll to the back of your head and a moan escapes your lips. The girls laugh and Caitlin has to grip the counter at the sight and sound of you. If it was up to her, she would have you pushed up against the wall doing anything and everything she could to get you to make that sound again.

You finish the cookie and go for a second, then a third.

"I am going to need you here all the time to make these for me," you say to Caitlin as she is putting in the last batch.

"Oh, she wouldn't mind that at all," Kate says and Caitlin bumps her, signaling for her to shut up.

"Let me grab your number and you can call me anytime for cookies," Caitlin says passing you her phone. The two of you exchange numbers and Caitlin is already planning on how she can ask you out or at least get you one on one.

A few weeks pass and school begins. Caitlin feels like she has fallen even more in love with you. She is over at your apartment all the time. You never minded because you knew how close of friends Caitlin was to Kate. You have also grown to really enjoy her company.

The three of you are all having a movie night when relationships are brought up for the first time.

It is halfway through the movie when Caitlin lets her thoughts get the best of her.

"So why did you transfer to Iowa?" Caitlin asks. You were sort of taken by surprise but knew the question was going to come sooner or later.

"Well, long story short, it just wasn't a good fit. I didn't really fit into their system well," you say trying to be as vague as possible.

"I heard something about you dating someone on your team, is that true?" Kate asked with the purest intentions.

As much as you wish things didn't get around, you knew that would be difficult with who you were involved with, the media ate her up.

"Ya," you say ready to brave the conversation.

Caitlin had been hanging on to every word.

"I heard it didn't end super well..." Kate also added.

You nod.

"Ya, I dated one of the girls on my team. Everything was great until it wasn't, ya know? I wasn't enough for them and they sought that in someone else while we were still together. When things ended, it changed the whole dynamic. People chose sides and it wasn't mine," you say looking down.

Caitlin can't help but put her hand on your knee and give it an encouraging squeeze.

"I didn't belong there anymore and they made it known and that's when I decided to enter the transfer portal. It sucks how it all happened but I've learned a lot," you say trying to stay optimistic about it. "Never again will I date someone I am on the same team with."

Kate gauges Caitlin's reaction which is a mix of things.

"Well, never say never," Kate says with a little laugh, trying to get Caitlin's mood back to one that isn't completely crushed.

You laugh.

"I mean that I have one rule: don't date a teammate," you say. "It's for the better - keeping relationships on the team light and never too intense to the point where someone has to pick up and leave."

When you say the last part, you feel a pain rise up in your chest.

"But all that is really heavy, let's get back to the movie," you say with a smile.

The three of you finish watching the movie. You are locked back into the film but Caitlin is not. Kate can practically see the steam coming out from Caitlin's ears at how fast her brain is thinking.

Caitlin spent the rest of the movie figuring out how she can show you that you're wrong. That it can be done and that you and her would be perfect together. That she would never break your heart, couldn't even think about it because of the wonderful person you are. That even with your stupid rule, Caitlin sees you as worth it and will do everything in her power to show you.

Over the next few weeks, Caitlin makes it a point to show you that she is there. The two of you are always hanging out with one another. She makes sure that she starts with the little things, like remembering all the things you like and don't like. She caters to you in a way that believes you deserve to be cared for. She goes above and beyond to prove that she will fight for you and love you in a way that no one else can or ever will. So much so that you feel you need to bring it up.

"Hey, Cait?" You ask pulling her aside after practice one day. Pulling aside is kind of a stretch as she had already planned for the two of you to go get massages as a little reward for all of your hard work.

"What's up?" She says with a smile.

You don't really know where to start because as obvious as it has been, you may be reading too far into her actions.

"I don't really know how to say this, but you have been doing a lot for me recently and I genuinely love it - I feel like our friendship has grown exponentially and some of it may be overstepping the friendship line. You do remember that I don't date teammates...right?" When you said it, you immediately wish you would have approached it differently.

Caitlin knew this was going to come and had already thought through her answer.

"I know," she says. You nod at her simple response thinking that was all she would say but she continues. "I know, but I am going to prove to you that you're wrong."

You are about to protest but she stops you.

"I am going to show you that the guard you put up isn't needed with me because when I first saw you, I knew. I knew that I would never let you go. You might not have known but I knew. And I will use every day to show you that you don't need to be afraid because I am not like her," Caitlin says and takes your hand. "You are worth more than everything and I am willing to show you that if you let me. Please let me."

You stood there terrified. Terrified that this would all end up the same way. But there was something in her eye - something that wasn't there in the last person who held your heart.

"Caitlin, I can't," you say wanting so badly to say okay and let her show you there is so much more there is to love than what you had experienced. You want Caitlin to prove you wrong and show you that there are good people out there and that you are worthy of a timeless love. But you simply can't.

You expected Cait to be defeated and walk away. Not to say you weren't worth it but getting to know Caitlin and how wonderful of a person she is, she deserves someone who is going to love her as much as she loves them.

She nods.

"I am not going to stop showing you how much love you deserve," she starts. "How someone can love you even in your flaws and stick around to show you that you are worthy. Worthy of love and worthy of someone who makes every day better than the last. And I am willing to do that, I am going to show you that it is going to be us. That we would be great together because I know that we will be. That it would only grow our team because the connection would be stronger. Forget the team dynamic because baby, you and I would carry this team wherever we want to go. Then when we are done here - we will go where the wind takes us and do amazing things there because it would be you and me against the world."

At this point, Caitlin has your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe across your cheeks dissolving the tears that started to fall.

"Baby, your fear is real, but so am I. And I am standing right in front of you ready to show you that I can take your fear and turn it into something beautiful." Caitlin says as she places her forehead on yours, eyes closing. Your eyes close as the tears continue to fall.

You are terrified. The last time you trusted someone like you were about to trust Caitlin it ended up in flames. But there was something in you telling you to jump. Jump knowing that the girl in front of you will catch you and continue to catch you every day.

You lean in and press your salty lips to hers. The kiss is desperate. Desperate for her to do exactly what you believe she would - catch you.

She kissed you back with the same force but instead of desperation, it was full of love. Caitlin got her answer in that kiss. She understood the leap you were taking and was ready to be everything for you.

That kiss was more than a kiss. It was a promise.

AN: Crazy...but let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support ��

[sanakiras]

IN THE DARK CORNERS

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader | choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

SYNOPSIS — mingyu used to be your lover. now he has to watch from the sidelines as you’ve moved on to someone else.

TAGS — once again a college au, fem!reader, jealousy, explicit sexual content, voyeurism, pretty much just porn with no plot, semi-public sex, dom!cheol, read at ur own risk !!

mingyu would overall consider himself to be a smart guy.

he never needs to put a lot of effort into his classes to pass them, he’s quick-witted and pays attention to detail. everyone around him has always praised him for his intelligence.

but right now, he feels stupid. he has for a while at this point.

his jaw is clenched as he leans against the wall with a cup of beer in hand. normally he very much enjoys the parties hosted by his friends — today is a different case.

it’s not just anything that’s making him feel this way.

at the other side of the crowded, warm room stands his former teammate choi seungcheol. he was their team captain up until last year, having to resign from the position after suffering a leg injury, and he apparently hasn’t felt the need to return to the football team yet despite his leg being all healed up.

choi seungcheol is a nice guy. he can also be real damn scary if he wants to be.

he’s about two years older than him. mingyu found he was always easy to get along with — until two days ago, when he discovered you out of all people had started dating him.

you. his ex-girlfriend. you broke up with him a while back after a fight he honestly can’t even remember the words nor the cause of. it was bullshit. something that shouldn’t have happened but did.

somehow, he’d let you slip through his fingers. like many people, he failed to realize what he had until it was gone. failed to see the signs he was supposed to see until it was too late. he feels stupid because he’s always so fucking smart — until the one time he wasn’t.

he tried to get you back. you wouldn’t let him.

now all he can do is stare at you from the other side of the room and watch you kiss a guy that isn’t him. you’re all over him, sitting on his thigh, and he’s constantly got his hands on you, arm looped around your waist, fingers rubbing your clothed skin.

wonwoo suddenly comes up to him, nudging him in the side. “are you trying to kill the guy by looking at him?”

“hm?”

“seungcheol. green with envy much?”

mingyu shrugs. “maybe.”

“well, you’d probably be smart to make it less obvious,” wonwoo remarks before leaving, “for your own sake.”

the words leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. he wishes he could just stop looking at the two of you, wishes he could just stop thinking about it for a damn second.

he’s certainly not a lightweight, but even he suffers the consequences of taking too much alcohol. his head feels fizzy, and he loses focus for a second, only to realize you and your boyfriend are gone from your places by the couch.

looking around frantically, he suddenly catches the glimpse of the little red dress you’re wearing at the other side of the room — you’re going upstairs with him.

and he finds himself desperately eager to follow you. that’d be so wrong though, wouldn’t it? he’s not some stalker, obviously. he just wants to check things out.

or so he convinces himself.

his brain is against it, his heart has other plans.

his legs seem to have their own will. before he can stop himself, he’s walking up the stairs, cursing to himself when the hallway is somewhat empty — until he hears the noise of something clattering onto the floor two rooms further.

taking a few steps into the direction of where the sound came from, he briefly looks behind him to check whether anyone’s there, proceeding when there isn’t.

the moment he pushes the door open just a bit further, he spies the office supplies carelessly thrown on the floor, his ears catching onto the familiar sound of your soft laughter.

he takes a step forward, detecting motion at the other side of the bookcase. he’s able to hide right behind it, watching you lie down on the wooden surface from the open cracks of the shelves.

the tight dress on your body is hiked up by your boyfriend as his hands roam all over your body, the sounds of your shared kisses making mingyu feel warm, his cheeks flushing, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

he knows how much you love a good make-out session — he also knows you like to speed things up a little when you need to be touched.

he’s frozen in his spot behind the bookcase when he hears you let out those needy whimpers that would turn any man on like crazy.

“shit—i should probably be quiet.” you giggle with your hand half over your mouth while cheol has you pinned underneath him, right on top of the desk.

“i’d love to see you try.” he mutters to you, fingers already hooking on the fabric of your matching lacy, red panties.

the worst part is that mingyu remembers that pair — one of his favorites. you look stunning in that little red set.

but your new boyfriend doesn’t appear to be paying that much attention to your lingerie. you’re both panting, all hot and heavy, clearly not in the mood to take things slow right now.

he sinks down to his knees on the floor, fingers harshly digging into your thighs as he spreads your legs to give him the access he wants, and you so eagerly let him.

“so gorgeous, baby.” cheol whispers to you before burying his lips and nose into the wetness pooling between your legs.

mingyu feels himself growing harder when he hears you cry out, your back arching off the cold desk, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

with your dress pushed up to your upper chest and your panties discarded on the floor, you gasp for air, fingers pulling on his dark strands of hair. you won’t last long if he keeps this up.

the first loud noise escapes you when he suddenly slips his finger into you. “cheol!”

the man between your legs shows his disapproval. “c’mon, baby, keep quiet for me. you want me to keep going, right?”

“yeah, yeah—” you nod almost desperately, “—‘m sorry.”

he cocks his head as if to say, that’s what i thought.

sly fucker.

he’s got you in the palm of his hand though — especially when he dives right back in, eager to see you fall apart while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

mingyu is so lost in the sight that his hand travels down to his belt buckle almost automatically. he’s so rock-hard in his pants that he could cry.

it doesn’t take cheol long to get you so worked up that you’re about to cum — which is exactly when you beg for him to fuck you instead, claiming you just need him inside you.

and your boyfriend happily obliges.

with your legs hoisted over his shoulders, he hovers above your body, watching the way you gasp and whimper when he pushes himself inside you.

“so full, cheol—” you moan once he’s nearly balls deep inside you, biting your lip to keep the noise down.

“you can take a little more though, can’t you, sweetheart?” your boyfriend asks teasingly, the subtle mocking undertone making you shiver. you love it when he’s all dominant and cocky like this, and you love to play into it.

a lazy smile appears on your face. “depends on how hard you give it to me.”

he smirks, biting his plump lip as he picks up the pace. you hold onto him, relishing in the sound of his moans by your ear.

“always so greedy,” cheol muses, eyes shining as he scans your figure, “always wanting more.” he pushes into you with the last syllable, unable to hold down a grin at how breathlessly you gasp.

oh, the guy gives it to you good. something you absolutely deserve — mingyu just wishes it was him giving it to you instead.

he hates it. he hates how pretty you look in his arms, under him. he hates how you both look so fucking perfect. he hates how dirty and perverted he feels.

he hates that the thrill of possibly getting caught makes him harder.

he watches as seungcheol takes you fast and hard, his hand pumping his own cock at the same pace. your body welcomes the muttered sentences of praise; pulling his body as close as physically possible, spreading your legs a little wider, fingers digging into his back a little deeper.

mingyu knows you love your praise just as much as a bit of force, and your boyfriend seems to know it too. he leaves red marks over your body, sucking at your skin, pulling out for a moment to shove his fingers back in instead.

you’re a whiny, moaning mess as three of his long fingers pump in and out of you. “thought i told you to keep it down.”

“fuck—just feels so good, cheol—”

“i know, pretty girl. you’re doing so good.”

god, you’re just so engulfed in your need to be filled up that you’re willing to do anything for the man currently in between your legs, and he fucking knows it.

mingyu is obsessed with the way your cunt sucks in his fingers so easily. he can literally hear how wet you are — cheol’s quick fingers are squelching into your heat, thumb circling over your clit until all you can do is make sweet sounds into his mouth.

it all gets too much, and your hand reaches down to take a hold of his wrist, but his movements don’t falter. it takes less than a minute before you cum on his fingers, desperately clinging onto him. sharp overstimulation hits your body when he pushes his cock into you again, not allowing you to come down from your high.

the feeling makes you go insane. you clench on him as a reflex, and he groans in response because you’re just so damn tight, almost suffocating him.

his big hands are grabbing your waist, basking in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. you notice through your bliss that he’s getting more desperate, movement more erratic, kisses sloppier, breathing heavier — how you love seeing him fall apart.

“takin’ me so well.” he smiles, biting his lip as you rake your nails over his abdomen.

“mhm. ‘s all for you, baby.”

he physically can’t not cherish the way you gaze at him so lovingly while getting your back blown out. if anything, it’s a talent. “yeah? such a good girl for me.”

you capture his lips in another kiss, one that’s a little sweeter than before. his hair is soft, the roots of his strands a bit damp from the sweat, but you don’t care.

you’re mewling in your spot on the desk, every other thought you ever had thrown out the window. all you can focus on is cheol fucking you like his life depends on it.

his chest is then pressed up against yours, his one hand on the back of your head, holding you still and close while he gives you hard and deep strokes.

“shit.” he curses, getting closer now that you’re tightening up more.

he’s reaching down to touch your clit again, rubbing the sensitive spot, causing you to buck your hips against his.

“cum with me, cheol.” you beg him, your sharp nails digging into his shoulder blades, which always works well on him — it makes him so utterly weak.

it brings mingyu just as close to his release. he’s so lost in his lust that it almost feels like you’re saying the words to him and not seungcheol, so he lets his back rest against the wall as he gets himself off at the pleasure of watching you.

“i’m so close, baby.” cheol mutters, his thick brows knitting together once he throws his head back in pleasure.

your body shakes as you come undone underneath him, your arms wrapped around his back. your boyfriend can’t hold back any longer when he feels you hit your peak — his hips stutter, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

your secret spectator has to cover his mouth to avoid making any noise. his balls are tightening, sweat beading at the nape of his neck right before he pathetically cums in his pants, some of his release dripping on the floor.

his own chest still heaves as his eyes find the little drops of sweat rolling down cheol’s back, his eyes moving down to the sight of your boyfriend pulling out of you, leaving a trail of his cum seeping out of your pussy.

the sight is enough to make him hard again.

you’re panting in your place on top of the desk, still coming down from your high before your boyfriend speaks up — but his words aren’t directed at you.

“did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

mingyu’s heart drops in his chest. shit, was it that obvious? he thought he did a good job at being relatively quiet.

now he’s left with two options of what to do next. either he owns up to it or gets the fuck out of here.

and he thinks to himself, fuck it. not like the situation could get any worse anyways.

so he steps forward, into the light.

thanks for reading! let me know if u liked it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 1

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

"Do you have anything you'd like to tell us about yourself?" You hated this. First days were known to be horrible for a reason. Why on earth would you want to tell a room full of strangers some random fact about you? They don't care if you have a pet nor do they want to know why you're here. The room was dead silent waiting for you to hurry up and sit down. "Umm-"

"What's your cup size?" A boy asked making the other kids in the class snicker. The dark-haired boy next to him smiled shaking his head in disapproval. "Steven I'm not doing this with you today, out." Steven groaned already grabbing his books. "But miss-" With a stern point of the finger she spoke again. "Out!" The class once again fell silent and you couldn't possibly feel more uncomfortable. You've done nothing wrong yet within 5 minutes you feel everyone staring at you with disdain.

Once the door closed behind Steven the teacher spoke again. "I'm terribly sorry Y/n. Just take Steven's spot for today and we'll figure the rest out tomorrow." A simple nod was all you could muster. All you had was a pencil in your hand and a bright yellow notebook sitting on top of your new desk. You closed your eyes trying to fast-forward time. This was the last class of the day and it could honestly not be worse. "Don't worry about him he's a dick." The note on your desk read. The boy to your left looked at you then the paper wanting you to send the note back.

With a quick scribble, you handed him the paper. A huffed laugh left his lips as he read "You are what you eat." The note was then crumpled and shoved into his pocket. That seemed to be the end of your conversation with the stranger but you pushed further. Leaning to the side you whisper, "What's your name?" Instead of saying anything he opened up his notebook. The black and white cover was scuffed showing obvious signs of use. He lifted the book showing you the inside. With a single word written in big letters. 'Billy.'

The class went on, no more pleasantries being exchanged. The bell rang signaling the tiring day was over. You were going to say something else to Billy but he was up and gone by the time you looked up. "So much for that." You mumbled as you got up. The movies always showed the new girl getting all the attention. Everyone tries to quickly mold her into their cult-like clique. Maybe it was the dress you were wearing or the way you wore your hair that made you look like a prude. Growing up with your grandparents sets you up for a life of social isolation.

The parking lot was crowded but not crowded enough to not see your bright red car. Just as visible was the short-haired boy sitting on the hood. "Get off my car." You scolded flatly. "Holy shit this is yours!? How'd you get it?" He asked bouncing with joy. "It's my dad's so I don't want you sitting on it. Thanks." You tossed your bags in the car as he continued talking. Just a second ago you were praying Billy would keep up some conversation. Now you're wanting nothing more than to get home. "Man look it's Christine!" He shouted as the girl next to him covered her ears. "Is he always this loud?" She laughed at the question shaking her head up and down. "Unfortunately. I'm Tatum, so you're the new girl everyone's talking about?"

A puzzled look fell over your features. "Who's talking about me?" Before she could answer Billy walks up to the car. "This is nice." His blabbering friend seems disappointed with that answer. "Nice? It's fucking awesome! Can we ride in it?" He turns to beg you. Billy looked over at you raising his eyebrows in silent confusion. "I don't even know you." What part of 'dads' car did he not understand? "I'm Stu, this is Billy."

"We've met." Billy says gesturing towards you. "it's nice to meet you Stu but I don't give rides to strangers." He walks over throwing his arm over your shoulder. Way too much physical contact from someone you don't know. "Well you know my friend Billy and now you know me. I'd say we're all friends here." Tatum rolls her eyes at her friend's antics. "If you two are going to harass this poor woman I'm leaving. I've got to catch up with Sydney. See ya, babe." She blew a kiss at Stu which he caught.

"Pleaseeeee." He begged. Just as Billy was about to intervene you agreed. "Fine but no food, drink, cigarettes, or really anything that could mess up this car. Got it?" You laid out the rules as you climbed into the driver's seat. Stu bit his lip nodding his head. "Yes ma'am. Come on man." Stu said as he jumped in the car. Billy stood awkwardly looking down at his feet. His eyes nervously looked around almost like he was late for something. "Go without me I've got some errands to run." Stu stuck his head out of the window. You tapped the steering wheel impatiently. "Come on man Christine is like your favorite movie." At this, Billy laughed.

"No, I think you're confusing things. A murderous car is definitely more your speed." At this point, you regretted saying yes to Stu. "Please come with us I don't trust him." Stu covered his heart in fake hurt. "If you should be worried about anybody you should worry about Billy." You seriously doubted that. Sure he was quiet and a little unnerving but he might just be shy. "Fuck it." His hands smack his thighs in defeat. Stu loudly rejoices at his friend's surrender. "Get in the back."

You figured Stu would put up a fight considering he was there first. Yet he opened the door with sad eyes and quietly got into the back. It was strange. You weren't sure how long these two had been friends but it was an odd dynamic. "Why do you get to sit next to her?" Stu whined from the back seat. "Because she doesn't trust you." A laugh forced its way from your throat. "Who said I trusted you? According to him, I should be careful around you." You pointed to the man in the back who gladly smiled. Billy propped his arm on the window shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry but dressed like that you need to be careful with everyone."

"Gotta agree with him on that. You look like Betty Crocker." Stu leaned his head on the seat between you and Billy. "Don't get me wrong it's kinda sexy but still very grandma." With a roll of your eyes, you started the car, hearing the engine purr to life. The boy next to you cracked such a small smile you'd have to catch it on camera for proof that it happened. "This is amazing! I fucking love you, Betty Crocker." Stu kissed you on the cheek making your nose crinkle. At that, Billy actually laughed. Nothing too dramatic though. "Ew can you not touch me at all? Jesus Christ." With one hand on the wheel, you took the other to wipe your cheek.

"Now you see what I put up with," Billy adds. "Oh, so you kiss him too huh?" You drove out of the parking lot heading to the main road. "Only on weekends." Stu shrugged. You giggled but Billy didn't seem to find anything funny. "So what brings you to this hell hole?" He asks still keeping his eyes out the window. "Me and my moved into my grandparent's house after they passed. He found a good job here too so ta-da here I am" Stu leaned forward to press buttons on the dash which you promptly swatted his hand away. "What is your deal with this car?"

Stu seemed shocked you had to even ask. "It's Christine baby! The man-eating car." You blinked a few times a little confused. "You know the John Carpenter film? Came out in 1983. Same guy that directed Halloween with Michael Myers." Billy seemed interested in this conversation more so than others. His whole body seem to turn towards you actively listening to anything you had to say. "Of course, I know Halloween I've just not seen Christine." It was Billy's turn to pick at you. "You're telling me you've never seen Christine but you've got the car?"

He must be brain-dead to think you got a car based on a movie. "This is a 58' Plymouth. It is way older than the Christine movie. I've got the original if you ask me." Stu looked like he was adding numbers to fact-check your math. Billy on the other hand had the same stoic expression on his face. His eyes dragged up and down you seemingly trying to figure out something. "Say where do you two live?" Stu gave out directions to his house without hesitation. "You can just drop me off at his place." You nod in Billy's direction as you focus on the road.

"Why do you dress like this?" Billy picks at the fabric of your dress. It seems no one in this town knows what personal boundaries are. But you guess it beats the awkwardness of a new friendship. With these two it's like you jumped ahead. "I like it." Plain and simple. Billy wasn't buying it either was Stu. "It's more than just that. You know people look at you differently do you get off on that sort of thing?" The question was rude. If you had a backbone of any sort you throw him out of the moving car. Being a people pleaser however made you give him an honest answer. "Maybe. Do I notice when people look at me hatefully? Duh. But at the end of the day, I'm happy they looked at me at all. I mean you both look like every other teenage boy out there. You don't want to stand out?"

Stu liked your answer it was honestly one he could relate to. "No, we like to blend in." That was all Billy said. It was a change from the chattiness before. "Well, what about you Stu?" Billy turned to look back at the boy. Meanwhile he was happy at being included. When it was just him with some girls he could say whatever he felt like. When Billy was around things were different. Just with his eyes he could tell Stu what and what not to say. He didn't mind of course he loved Billy more than he would ever know really. Plus he knew his personality could be a lot for new people. It was nice to have someone to let him know when enough was enough.

"Like he said we like to blend in. We're not big attention whores." He laughed. You don't think the comment was aimed at you but you couldn't help but feel a little hurt by it. "What's your name?" Stu asked while he lay down in the back seat. "Y/n." Billy once again needed more of an answer. "Y/n what?" He was looking for a last name. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Stu's eyes shot back and forth between you two. "I would. That's why I asked."

"Well, you ask too many questions. Unless you're looking to change my last name I don't know why you'd need to know." Billy wasn't mad. Aggravated sure but not mad. You were smart. Not smart enough to tell two psychos to fuck off but smart enough to not hand out personal information easily. He'd have to work for it which he loved to do. "Is your place down this road Stu?" The boy perked up. A little sad that the ride was over. "Yeah just go on down."

"What are you doing this weekend?" Billy asked seeing his window of opportunity was closing. "Nothing much why?" More boring and cryptic answers. "We should come over to your place this weekend seeing as nothing's going on." Billy looked at his friend for backup. "Absolutely! I could bring a copy of Christine and we could get mad wasted!" Billy closed his eyes regretting asking him for anything. "I don't drink. Never had a reason to."

"Well, Ms. Crocker I'm giving you one." Unfortunately for these two you had self-preservation skills. Getting drunk with two men you don't know at your house is not smart. They act like you haven't seen any scary movies. "I'm not getting drunk with you two. I'll think about hanging out this weekend but no drinking. My dad would kill me if he knew I had two dudes in the house let alone drunk dudes." Billy could work with that. Stu was practically jumping at the idea to hang with you. For once he didn't have ulterior motives. He couldn't say the same for his friend who had that gleam in his eye he's seen before.

You pulled into the driveway saying goodbye to your new friends. "See you at school tomorrow?" Billy asked knowing the seat you occupied today would be permanently vacant so you could stay next to him. "Unfortunately. Bye, losers." You waved at the guys ready to get the hell home. The boys watched as you pulled away, the bright red car was easy to follow down the road. "What do you think about her?" Billy asked his friend. "She's alright man. Needs better taste in movies but I can fix that." Billy agreed but something just wasn't sitting right with him. In one day you managed to weasel your way into their lives. He wasn't sure if he wanted to watch movies with you or make you the star of one.

Part 2

A/N: I've been writing for about 5 years now but I'm new to the Scream fandom. I just recently watched the first movie and I can't seem to get these two out of my head so feedback is greatly appreciated! See ya lovelies 💞

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[bbyseok]

thinking about showering dazai with a ton of compliments, and he becomes soo flustered he doesn’t know how to react. <3

it’s a normal day in the office of the armed detective agency, and as per usual, the infamous dazai osamu is at his desk—doing anything but his actual paperwork.

his time consists of doodling scribbles on the neatly stacked papers or taking said papers to fold them into intricate little airplanes… to throw at you, of course.

but after growing bored of his past antics after a while, he resorts to rolling his pen on the desk with his slender fingers, his posture slumped over in a way that definitely doesn’t match proper office etiquette.

unlike your boyfriend, you’ve been dutifully attending to your work for the day, but your break is nearly about to start... and dazai has been quiet for some time, so you resort to staring at him.

maybe it’s the way the sunlight streams into the office space in dainty rays to highlight his chocolate irises. or perhaps it’s the adorable subtle pout curling on his lips in his current state of inactivity.

dazai looks pretty.

so what better way to spend your break time than to tell him that?

“‘samu.”

he perks up, bangs falling over his eyes messily, “hm?”

a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “you’re very pretty.”

his pen stops rolling. for a moment, he’s quiet, but then that familiar characteristic smirk comes forth as he dramatically announces, “oh? what’s this? sudden affection from my partner?”

you lean back in your chair, eyes never straying away from him as you reply, “only saying the truth.”

oh—oh, there it is. the dazai osamu… blushing. pink dusts over his face as he tries to brush off your words, a chuckle falling from his throat. “ahaha, you flatter me, darling.”

“someone needs to, i guess,” you go on, trying to hide the growing smirk on your lips, “y’know.. you cause a lotta distractions at work but honestly, you can consider your handsomeness a distraction by itself.”

however cheesy your words are, they’re enough for dazai to avert his eyes elsewhere, turning to hide his gradual blush with the collar of his trenchcoat. you might be feeding his ego, but it seems that he’s too flustered to retaliate.

“someone is a feeling a little bold today,” he huffs out, abandoning his pen to cross his arms in faux petulance, “praise this early in the day? my my, what are you up to..?”

you rise from your desk to saunter over, coming to stand in front of his with a cheeky grin. “i can’t compliment by lovely boyfriend?”

he meets your gaze, his embarrassed state still obvious. dazai stares up at you inquisitively, “hmm.. do you want something from me?” as if he’s trying to deduce a reasoning for your sudden flattery.

you laugh at that. “maybeeee.” you move to lean down and forward, becoming eye-level with the detective, and he blinks at you with his familiar, almost puppy-like gaze.

dazai’s wide eyes don’t even blink as he leans forward, awaiting for the savory feeling of your lips brushing against his in the kiss he thinks you’re asking for...

only for you to pull away with a snicker.

“i want you to finish a good chunk of your paperwork while i’m out on break,” you declare, leaning back and straightening your posture to turn on heel as you stroll away from his desk.

flustered splutters and whines come from osamu then, out of confusion and protest, frantic and scrambled movements as he tries to follow you.

“darling, w-wait! come back here!! where’s my kiss?!”

[impish-baby]

Ooo what about a group of fae caregivers who have been watching reader for a while and deem that this baby can’t go on longer without being taken care of, to then lead the reader out into the woods to never get them go.

Love your work btw :))

Fae!!! My favorite honestly, I hope this is alright! ^^

Come along now, run away from the humdrum. We'll go to a place that is safe from greed, anger, and boredom - Fae caregivers x reader - ☘️

The woods have always felt like a second home to you. Towering trees that stretch into the clouds, babbling brooks, it's all so much more tranquil than your busting town. Sometimes, it even feels like the forrest cares just as much about you as you care for it. It's silly, you know, but it makes you happy.

The rumors of fae are forever present, but they do nothing to deter your longing for the wild. Old wives' tales are all they are, whisperings meant to keep children from wandering too far from home and getting lost. Even if there's truth to the stories, it's none of your business. Really, you just need to be polite (something you should already do) and guard your name, it isn't that difficult.

Leaves crunch underfoot as you travel the familiar path into the woods, the changing of seasons obvious. You're a little sad to see the green go, but it is only nature's coarse. The autumn season gives way for lots of good harvest at least, basket in hand in hopes of bringing a few spoils home. As you travel deeper into the trees, the sun is eventually swallowed by the canapy, beams of light being the only thing allowed through.

A fox catches your eye for just a moment, the creature staring at you from the undergrowth. You can't resist the urge to wave politey, so you do so before it scampers back into the trees. No matter how many times you see one, they're still so beautiful.

Everything is really, that's why you've found yourself crouched in front of a patch of mushrooms reaching out of the forrest floor. They're pretty, a light brown with frilled gills..

"I hope you aren't going to pick them, those are poisonous, they don't make for very good eating.."

The sudden voice from behind you causes you to fall flat on your bottom, a melodious laugh following. "Oh dear, I didn't mean to startle you.." they offer you a hand up, giggling all the while. "Are you alright, darling?"

You manage a nod as you're helped back onto your feet, thanking the man quietly. He's tall, probably taller than anyone you've ever met, and jewelry covers his form as if his beauty didn't speak for itself. His rings catch the light as he raises your hand to his lips.

"You may call me Briar, might I have your name?"

He doesn't falter for second as you shake your head, asking him to call you a nickname instead. "Oh, I get to choose, do I?" Brair rubs his chin like he's deep in thought before springing forward and playfully tapping your nose. "Sprout then, you're just a little thing, it suits you.."

You aren't the happiest about it, but you're in no position to protest. Briar only smiles and steps away, no longer in your personal space, but waiting for you. "Are you out to pick berries perhaps? I know a great spot. I was about to fetch some myself, actually.."

He's expectant, tilting his head at you. "We'll have to go away from the path, but I promise, they'll be the best thing you've ever tasted.." You're reluctant to veer away from what you know, but Brair assures you he won't get you lost, and the promise of goodies is tempting..

You think his smile can rival the sun with how bright it is when you agree, Brair taking your hand in his as you begin to walk into the thicket. It feels right almost having your hand in his, it's strange, you've only just met but he seems familiar. Like you've always known him.

"My friends and I are having a little bit of a party, actually.." He hums, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. Brair laughs again when you ask about it, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A welcome home party, I suppose. One for a beloved member of the family.."

It feels like it takes no time at all to come across the bushes he was referring to. The path, however, is long gone. You don't notice, attention captured by Briar guiding you to sit beside him. He was right, the berries are like nothing you've ever tasted before. They're the sweetest, nothing compares to the burst of joy they give you when you sample one.

By the end of picking, your fingers are stained pink as well as your mouth. Briar hadn't snacked on the fruit like you did, only smiling as you had your fill. "See? Good, right?" He hums, brushing your hair away from your face. "You know.. I'm sure we'll have much more yummy food at the party, I'd be delighted if you came. " Briar pays no mind to your instantaneous about not wanting to intrude and.. and if the rest of the food is as good as what you just ate..

"Perfect.." Briar is already leading you away, although you're unsure when you started walking again. "Ohh, I can't wait.."

You can hear music in the distance, the sounds of merriment beckoning you home.