#very bittersweet but its just right me thinks

[doggolol]

that final season was insane. like UMM????

[screampied]

hi hi!! Can i req a choso with him being gentle and sweet at sex w reader? :( like he would always be careful and always gives reader praises ahdjshsjeh </3

꒰  warnings . . choso x fem!reader, soft dom choso, praise, size difference, missionary. mdni. wc: 1.1k

choso has to remind himself of how much bigger he is compared to you.

the way his broad frame effortlessly towers over you, especially during intimacy. he’d never wanna break you, his precious girl.

you’d be laid against your back, a perfect position so he can look at you right in the eyes, compliment you with a plethora of sweet sweet praises, kiss you, and even moan in your ear, making sure you know how good you’re making him feel.

“m-missed you,” he’d softly pant—his tip just shakily hovering against your slickness, he licks his lips with a hand gently pressed down against your tummy, a smooth stroke before he speaks in a cute drowsy voice, eyes half lidded. “look at me. here, hold my hand baby. please. ‘s okay.”

you reach to hold his hand, and a tiny smile tugged against his lips, he leans into your neck before he moans at the sudden squeeze your walls give him.

adjusting to him and that feeling always makes him do that thing where he moans out your name against your neck, playfully seeping his teeth against your shoulder. “g-god, don’t let go princess. jus’ hold onto me, okay? i’ll please you good, promise.”

“o-okay.” you swallowed, intertwining your fingers with his, and his fingers were surprisingly cold. the moment his touch ran and collided against yours though, oh how hot and warm he felt.

choso could praise you all day.

his strokes weren’t rough but they were just enough of a good amount to drag out sweet whimpers from you, he’d be pressed up against your ear as his length expands throughout your cunt, prodding against a few of your most sensitive spots to make your legs involuntarily lock around his slim waist.

“hold onto me, jus hold onto me.” he’d hum, and he was whining even more than you. softly licking a stripe up your neck, your right arm hooked around his shoulders, cutely clinging onto him in a romantic missionary position.

choso swallows thickly, peppering many kisses on your face, then it lead down towards your neck and collarbone — before he pauses mid thrust just to say, “oh…you’re jus’ so perfect.”

the way you’d immediately grow flustered at his words, averting your eyes away before lightly squeezing on his arm, moaning for him to keep going because you could still feel him harden and twitch inside of you.

“r-right, sorry baby. just had to admire you for a second…”

his tone was so smooth, almost bittersweet with the way he spoke to you. choso couldn’t help but sneak kisses on your mouth throughout his sloppy thrusts. his hips moved and went at its own reasonable pace — you always found it attractive how he couldn’t stop himself from deliberately moaning into your mouth. he’d always do it whenever his lips went against yours.

“you’re doin’ so good, s-so good, look at how pretty you look underneath me.” he’d mumble, raising his chin up to kiss your forehead.

while in the position, he couldn’t help but be a bit handsy to say the least. just running the very soft tips of his fingers against every curve and inch of your body….slowly.

taking in your breathtaking frame — a word he’d always use around you because that’s how he viewed you. “good girl, are you getting close? want me to s-slow down?”

“no,” you’d moan, wrapping both arms around his neck now. his movements of his hips, a good yet tad bit of a quicken pace had you bite your lip, his body heat, the sheer warmth of it had your mind just spinning. you merely lost your train of thought before you feel yourself approaching a release and your head goes back. “c-choso,” you’d whine out. and the way his eyes immediately light up at hearing his name come from your sweet mouth. “….think ‘m gonna cum, ‘m close.”

“me too, baby,” he’d rasp, his jaw tightens a bit before he leans in to kiss the side of your mouth. his ears—at least the very tips of them grow out to be so hot, feeling your pussy just grip around him and hug him close. “you look so pretty like this, y’know?”

“you’re just saying that.” you shyly utter.

“noooo i’m really not,” he cracks a smile before gasping once you drag his waist closer against you, making him hit against you just a tad bit deeper. “eheh, baby, you’re so frisky. are you sure this isn’t too rough? don’t wanna—”

you cut him off by bringing him into a kiss, it’s like his mind goes straight blank whenever you do that. the way your tongue runs across his, one hand stroking his cheek—for a moment you swear you could have heard him purr, his hair was down so it just prickled against your forehead.

you pull away before moaning, “i’m okay, i promise.”

“yeah?” he’d say, a tiny pout making his lip quiver.

“yeah.” you reassure him, reaching for his hand to squeeze it.

“…okay,” he inhales a breath. you were so cute it was almost too much for him. the way you brush a thumb against his hand, giving him kind eyes that this was what you wanted. he gives you a final kiss on the top of your head before he starts talking you through your orgasm. “just relax, okay? this is all about you, not me. wanna make you feel good.”

and he was so intent on doing that, he studied your facial expressions — the way your eyes would roll a bit in pleasure, your body language and how you’d fail to stay still, squeezing down on his hand.

“i know baby,” he murmurs, kissing the bottom of your chin. “you’re doin’ amazing, just let go for me, hold on tight ‘n don’t let go alright?” and the way his tip, his tip alone massages your inner walls has you stuttering on empty blank words, your mouth was a straight empty canvas. “look at me, hey hey don’t look away,” he whispers. “wanna see those pretty eyes roll when you cum.”

“f-fuck,” you’d babble out, hugging him, if one can consider that hugging. his body weight hovers against you, just rocking back and forth and it was so lewd, his thrusts against you were so sensual it left you with a good taste in your mouth. “okay, okay. c-choso, fuck, h-hold me.”

“i got you.” he’d whisper, it was almost like he sang it. the moment you came, feeling the immense pressure that was building up finally release itself, your legs spasmed and your orgasm was ripped away, you stared at choso before turning away and he smiles to himself. he brings a hand up to your head — a brief head pat, massaging your scalp a bit with his fingers before sharing a deep kiss with you.

he slowed down completely, just slowly rocking against you as your legs twitched, wrapping against his waist and never letting go.

“good girl,” he says between kisses, he tastes so sweet — peppering your entire face with kisses until he cracks a smile from you. “my good girl.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.

but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture. 

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends. 

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

… except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. 

there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko…”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 

(… ah. right.)

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward.

one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“… you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.

but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.” 

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 

suguru. 

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid. 

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.

one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.

the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.��

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.

and you adore him again. 

that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right. 

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

[libertyybellls]

KISS IT OFF ME !

pairing; finnick odair x f!dist4!reader

summary; finnick can’t take his eyes off of you in any crowd- but he can take care of you, what’s new?

contains; FLUFF, established relationship, finnick is still pining for reader, alcohol consumption- but positively i guess, reader is anxious in the beginning, objectification by the capitol as per usual.

a/n: i hope im not misunderstood but when i put specific photos or outfits/hairs in the headers of my works that is not directly what i am picturing the reader as! its more-so the hairstyle, or the outfit- or simply the aesthetic of the picture. not the race, hair nor body type. ur all cutie pies. ok anyways onto the fic kiss kiss.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

“well would you look at that!” your stylist squeals in your ear, “from the moment you won your last games i have just been dying to design for you again and… here we are!” she ushers you to spin around.

she’d always been kind to you, perhaps less kind to your dignity- always wanting to flaunt you like a show pony- but nonetheless her support had always been there.

“it’s beautiful, thank you.” you smile small at her. so bittersweet, she was oh-so ecstatic to dress you up once more but to you- this meant less serenity to you. more agitation, more distress, more death.

it felt like a paradox, to be adorned in this sweet, innocent, baby pink before you’re sent away to a grim world once again- you’d already gone off on a tangent to finnick. you’d both sobbed solemnly about the cruelty of it all, how you would never be able to live in peace.

but finnick just wanted you both to have this one night, to indulge in the capitol before you were sent of to your deaths, obviously he would see the brighter side of thing- blabbering about plutarchs plan and how he only needs to protect you, katniss, and peeta until he can get you out of there.

sounds so very simple doesn’t it?

once you’d finished your interview you attended a party, a celebration for the third quarter quell. how ironic, what was there to celebrate?

you’d seen the food platters, the spiked drinks, and indulge you did.

your brain had been fuzzy by the time you’d escape the overbearing class of the capitol citizens, who wanted to know every detail of your life.

it was then- finnick had spotted you- so inebriated you’d genuinely laugh at something the woman next to you said.

feasibly being that she’d said something so pretentious you couldn’t help but tilt your head back in laughter. but nonetheless he admired.

he admired your dress, your smile, the way your eyes slightly disappeared when you laughed, the way your hair was laying down your back. he was simply under the spell of you.

it was then your eyes met his smitten ones, so love drunk- or possibly just drunk- that you’d excused yourself and made a beeline straight for him.

he’d encaptured you with warm arms, a leather corset-like article of clothing consumed his waist- followed by his white buttoned down that seemed to be unbuttoned.

you noticed the way his eyes consumed you- not like the others did. not like you were a piece of cake, not like you were something they had to have for the night, but someone who lit his chest alight.

“you look beautiful.” he murmurs into your hair, his hands around your waist.

“i hardly feel that way- im scared, i think.”

he shook his head, pulling you from his warm embrace much to your dismay. “don’t be. you’re with me right now.” finnicks plush lips lay atop your forehead now.

you laugh as he continues to peck your face, giggles leaving your lips.”so beautiful.”

it was only when you nearly toppled over your unnecessarily long pumps that he took not of your consumption.

“so head over heels it seems you’ve had a little to much to drink. what do you say i get you back to your room now? hm?” he straightens you back up. “run you a bath?”

you let out a muffled mm into his chest, your other hand placed on the side of his chest holding you steady. “love you s’much finn.”

it was his turn to laugh now, there was no mockery, no heinous act behind it, just you and finnick. “i know baby.”

-

[flowerisevil]

For I am yours.

Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen princess original character.

A/N: this was one of the request I received but I accidentally deleted i along with my previous works:( anyways I use an OC for this one sorry, I hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: mention of past attempted SA, inform me if i miss anything also possible grammatical and typographical errors ahead. English is not my first language

Summary: he was sworn to her, he is hers in any way she requires him.

~°~°~

Elaerys Targaryen, the epitome of grace and beauty in the Seven Kingdoms, many have said she had surpassed the qualification of the beauty of Targaryen woman, they said she was favored by the Sevens for having a such gorgeous features. And Elaerys was much aware of the attention and beauty she acquired, and her face is the exact reason why she have different guards every moon.

Her father, the King had to change her sworn protector every moon because of two reason, they had attempted to took advantage of her, or fell for her beauty. All of them broke their oath to the princess leading them to be exiled from the position and in King's Landing.

"It is none of your fault, Elaerys" her older sister comforted her, as she heard the news that her new sworn protector was caught glimpsing at her bathro door.

"Nyra, t-this is the exact reason why his grace would not allow me to go outside these walls, I want to go out, I want to visit the cities and people!" Elaerys complained, she envy her older sister Rhaenyra when their father allowed her to have her marital tour, Rhaenrya was abled to travel while her stayed in the Keep.

"next moon perhaps father will less strict to you after your name day" Rhaenyra cheered for her as she finished braiding Elaerys white hair.

"you look exactly like mother" her sister added smiling at the sight of her younger sister.

Elaerys bittersweet smile, she loved and hated it the same time, she loved being beautiful no doubt but its the very reason why she's also caged in here.

"Do you think If I get married I will be much more free?" Elaerys asked, her hand scratch the blade of her shoulders anxiously.

Rhaenyra sighed. "It depends but mostly no, when you became a wife you have duties to attend to Elaerys" Rhaenyra pitied her, she knows the exact feeling of being prisoned here in the castle.

Rhaenyra only hugged her to show comfort, she knows when the time has come the King will learn to let her fly on her own wings, after all she is a dragon nonetheless she is made of fire and blood too.

**

Her name day came, and the right time for marriage, the King prepared a grand celebration for her second born daughter, a ball and feast.

Elaerys sat on her seat beside her was her sister Rhaenyra almost drunk from all of the wine she drank tonight. The princess looked around setting her eyes on a familiar deep blue eyes, Ser Harwin Strong.

"You missed him don't you?" Rhaenyra whispered beside her, teasing her sister to its past lover.

Elaerys shrugged her, her sister wasn't wrong but she had decided to stay away from him. He was her almost, if only Ser Harwin is not bounded by too much honor, that he chose his duty than asking for her hand in marriage, but she could not blame him for not risking his position.

"Why don't you tell our father that you want him to marry? I am quite sure he will trust Ser Harwin on your protection, that man can dead someone who will dare to lay a finger on you" Rhaenyra jested as she loudly laughed.

It's not like she did not thought of that but other than his bounded to his duty, Elaerys felt Harwin did not want to do anything with her anymore, she would not want to tie him in a loveless marriage with her forever.

Her eyes searched for him again once again, she looked for him in the dancing crowd, maybe his out there dancing with some other highborn ladies.

"Done looking for that brawny man?" Her eyes promptly looked up to see their cousin Laenor, just like her sister he also knew the past business she and Ser Harwin once had.

Laenor sat on the other empty side chair beside her. "Happy name day cousin, welcome to the right age of marriage" Laenor and Rhaenyra both laughed, looks like their three years in marriage are already taking big impact on each other.

She both sign them to stop when they saw the King approaching beside him was his Hand and another red headed man.

The three youngster Targaryens stood up, bowing to the King before Viserys spoke. "My daughter happy name day, here may I present to you your new sworn protector"

A man stepped forward, wearing a green and silver tunic, his hair looks like an ginger auburn hair close up, pale skin, blue eyed and freckled man reveals himself.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown" the King introduced.

Elaerys eyes darted to Otto, this is his son?

"Hightower? I did not assume Ser Otto has a knight i their family" Rhaenyra commented.

Otto simply smiled, sarcasm filled his face. "Gwayne is Alicent's older brother, my heir to Oldtown"

Laenor spoke first of the three of them. "An honor to meet you Ser Gwayne, I do hope you enjoy your stay here in King's Landing and you will keep an eye at my cousin, the princess she can be very hard to handle sometimes"

It made the group laughed, Gwayne smiled while nodding in acknowledgment, his gaze moved to the princess, Gwayne noticed the discreet look she gave him. He bow in respect but Elaerys only nod and offer him a small smile.

"Thank you your grace, I shall observe Ser Gwayne's skills" Elaerys uttered, it earned a laugh from her father.

As the celebration continued Gwayne stay near her, she thought he would start his duty by tomorrow but the knight stayed close to where she was.

Gwayne was relief and bizarre for the princess, commonly highborn ladies would love this kind of events but instead she sat there and watch the crowd, most specifically he noticed that she's eyeing someone in the crowd.

Gwayne examined her, all of the stories about her graceful beauty, he thought people was just exaggerating again about someone from the Targaryen dynasty but no, her white silver hair neatly dropped down, her lilac eyes, and flawless skin, her entire aspect screams elegance and royalty, she was indeed a princess.

Elaerys was feeling spiritless around this crowd, she wish to have a breath of the air outside, she stood from her seat and walked away from the banquet, she was thankful Laenor and Rhaenyra both left her for a moment so no one would stop her from leaving.

She knew her new sworn protector was following her, it was his duty what else did she expect?

She stopped infront of the empty balcony, she turned around seeing her knight near the open dood to guard it. Silence filled the balcony, Elaerys was quite familiar with that aspect but her knight on the other side seems bothered it.

"Don't you relish the grand celebration inside, princess?" Gwayne spoke, he wasn't use to a such silence.

"I seem to grow tired of it Ser"

"Then why don't you rest on your chamber?"

Elaerys frowned, turning her head to look at her knight, his voice was filled with sarcasm?

"Pardon?"

Gwayne seem to take notice about the change of expression of the princess, "I mean no offense, princess"

After that silence filled them again, until excuse herself to rest no one talked again.

Months had passed Gwayne surprisingly was able to keep his oath and duty, but he did admit it to himself that somehow he catched an attraction to the princess, with her kind and pleasing demeanor he tried his best but it was too late.

They had interacted and shared a lot of unexpected proximity many times, just like right now. Both of them under of one of the trees in Kingswood. Elaerys sneaked outside the King's Landing after hearing the news that the is planning to match him with Tyland Lannister, Gwayne spotted her sneak outside the castle and when he confronted her, the princess plead him and there they are.

"That man age is near his deathbed" Elaerys muttered, a bottle of ale on her right hand, she felt like her head was spinning.

"That is a very rude thing to say princess" Gwayne looked at him and continued "but I very much agree so"

Gwayne watched her reaction, when Elaerys laughed he did the same, relieved that he managed to let out a pretty laugh from her mouth. A few moments later the two shared a deep conversation.

"Ser Gwayne did you ever had a relationship with someone you shouldn't had?"

Gwayne rested his head on the pillar of the tree. "I never had a serious relationship my princess"

"you mean you only dealt with whores in brothels?"

"not only in brothels my princess" Gwayne fixed his armor before speaking again. "But those were before I was appointed as a knight, as I enter knighthood I have left all of those behind"

Elaerys smiled as she nodded. "I do not criticize your Ser for acting like a normal human"

"I do not think you're the type of judging someone without fully knowing them"

A smiles formed on the drunk face of the princess, she drank another sip from her ale, Gwayne did not want to stop her, he knows she had a rough day and he would not neglect her for having freedom for once.

"If you do not mind princess, have you fell for someone you should not have?"

She did. And looks like she was about to again.

Gwayne saw the glint in her eyes, he nodded. "i shall take that as a yes. If I may, who is this lucky Lord then?"

Gwayne can feel his heart beating fast, he was hoping for the answer that he wants. That his name would be the words that would trail off from her mouth.

"Ser Harwin Strong, he was my first lover.."

Gwayne let out a dramatic gasp. "You have a very surprising taste, princess"

Who knows that the man of honor, the one they call the hard Breakbones and the Lord Commander of City Watch fell for the princess beauty?

But who wouldn't? That's the very reason why the King appointed him to this position. His Grace had expected him to not have any romantic attachment to the princess.

Elaerys talked about Harwin for hours and it was making Gwayne's ear fuzz, the constant utter of the name Harwin from the princess pain his ears, maybe letting the princess finish those three bottles of ale was a bad idea, she was intoxicated.

"Ser Gwayne"

Her words caught his attention, finally a good name came out from her pretty lips. As he turned his face to her, he was stunned by their proximity, he hadn't realize that Elaerys already closed the gap between them.

"You shall have your very own oath to me" The princess declared. "I want you to make your own vow and swear it to me" He thought maybe its just one of the princess nonsense game driven by the alcohol but somehow in him felt to take it seriously.

His eyes pierced into her, he suddenly lost all his ability to look away, she was more than beautiful, its not just her hair and eyes, but what her face express and trying to tell that makes her beautiful. As she looked up to him their gaze met, both glued on each other.

"I Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown vow to you my Princess Elaerys Targaryen, that I will do my very best and offer my very last breath serving and protecting you, I shall serve no one but you, and you shall have me for anything you require, for I am yours"

It almost sounded like a marriage vow.

Elaerys beamed at him her hand reaching to cup his cheeks "You are a very beautiful man Ser Gwayne" were the last think she muttered before she drift off to sleep.

Is she always like this? Is this the reason why her past knights all head over heels to her? If yes then he himself is no different from those knights.

"No wonder those men was enchanted by this lovely princess" he exhales, guiding the princess to lay comfortably on the grounds, he cannot risk riding his horse with a wasted princess with him.

He took of his white cloak and placed it on the ground to serve as a sheet of the princess, after placing her to her handmaid bed he leaned and pressed his back on the tree.

He cannot end up like those knights, exiled from their position and in King's Landing. The King trusted him with his daughter and Seven hells the princess is younger than her sister Alicent.

"I am not even sure if she feels the same way" he chuckles.

***

After that night, Elaerys felt a wall that her knight build, he became distant and cold. And she knew the very exact reason why.

She hated that she yearned for him after that night, she hated that she have to pretend everyday that his distance from her did not bother her, she hated that he placed a barrier between them. A lot change after that night, she sometimes caught herself looking at him for too long, glimpsing at his lips, looking or searching for him when she would lose the sight of him.

"I want to go to Rhaenyra" Elaerys spoke while walking through the halls.

"As you wish princess, I shall accompa-"

"I would like to go alone, for the meantime you can have an hour off Ser Gwayne, you have nothing to worry I'll stay inside her chambers" Elaerys explained

He wanted to protest, to not let her take away the only opportunity he have to be close to her, the only chance he can see glance at her for as much as he can, but reading her eyes he sense that he should let her after all he is serving her and he should do whatever she commander him to do.

Elaerys started walking away from him, he can hear the fast click of her shoes showing her urgency.

Elaerys did not bother to knock on her sister's door as she opened it, she walked to Rhaenyra's bed and hugged her.

"What's the problem?" Rhaenyra spoke but the princess keep her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"Rhaenyra, what if I wish to marry someone?" Elaerys lifted her head, facing her sister's confused face.

"and? You make it sound that the man you want to marry is someone who you shouldn't" Rhaenyra replied.

Elaerys did not manage to answer, Rhaenyra had hit the right words. Rhaenyra sat straight concern filled her face.

"It's Ser Gwayne isn't it?"

Elaerys nodded her head dropping ashamed of what she put herself into.

Rhaenyra chuckles as she raised her sister's face. "You have nothing to be ashamed of Elaerys, Ser Gwayne is an honorable knight"

"exactly Rhaenyra he is a knight, my sworn protector, he took an oath, it is treason if we engage into any romantic relations"

"Elaerys sometimes you have to take a risk and know its outcome than not doing anything"

Rhaenyra talked to her like how an older sister would, she gave her advices and guidance of what she should do.

"The decision is on you sister, and whatever it is I will support you" was Rhaenyra's last words.

Is the decision truly on hers?

***

She have thought of her sister words, after all Elaerys is not sure if Gwayne even felt the same.

While walking in Godswood and Gwayne guarding her as usual, she was admiring the fall of leaves from the branches when someone called her from behind.

He knew exactly those deep gentle voice, she turned around and faced the man infront of her.

"Ser Harwin"

Harwin Strong bow to her, his large hand reaching for her as he pressed his lips on her knuckles. Gwayne's face on the other hand grimaced at the sigh, he was not liking the sigh he was having.

"I pass by outside and I saw you and thought I should pay you a visit" Harwin replied.

Elaerys smiled bitterly "How ironic that you only thought of that now" it came out as a whisper but Harwin clearly heard it.

"I will be away for a very long time darling" he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, before he softly cupped her cheeks.

Elaerys expected that she would melt as soon as he does that but she felt nothing instead her eyes looked for Gwayne, as soon as they locked their eyes Gwayne looked away like he saw nothing.

"I do not see any reason for you to inform me Ser Harwin, I have thought you do not want anything to do with-" she stopped her words when Harwin leaned his forehead to hers.

"my Elaerys, forgive me for what I have done, once I come back I promise I will ask for your hand in marriage and I will fight for it no matter-"

Harwin was pushed away from her, she looked at Gwayne who had separated the both of them.

"I expect you are well known on the ethics and policies of touching the princess Ser Harwin, it is treason" Gwayne informed, he stepped forward placing her behind him.

"I meant no harm to the princess, apologies for my insolence"

Gwayne wanted to curse him, he can resist him touching her hands but leaning his forehead to hers? Acting like their a married couple? Fuck that.

Elaerys tried to defend Harwin but Gwayne keep on talking about the boundary Harwin crossed.

"Ser Gwayne, do not worry he meant no harm"

Elaerys looked at Gwayne when he faced her, she can almost read his entire face, it was mixed of emotion, hurt, anxious, possessiveness and jealousy? He was looking intently at her, like he wants to say something.

Gwayne felt his heart sank everytime Elaerys would defend this man, he looked at her with defeat and resignation.

"Ser Harwin you are dismissed" Elaerys command.

"But Elaerys-"

"May the Sevens bless you for your long journey"

Was what Elaerys only answer before she left the Godswood, Harwin gaze dropped on Elaerys fingers that swiftly pulled her knight's hand, dragging him inside the castle.

Gwayne was too clouded too realize that Elaerys was holding his hands, he tried to pull away only for the princess to tighten her grip. Soon they stopped in an empty hallway, Elaerys dropped her grasp to him.

"Ser Gwayne, what is it up with you? You don't to be yourself lately?"

"Princess you have nothing to worry about"

"What was that earlier? You dare to threaten Ser Harwin Strong?"

"He touched you princess, he was too close to you it was improper" Gwayne stood straight, defending his argument.

"Are you jealous of him?" Elaerys blurted out, it was an embarrassing question to ask.

Elaerys can see him frown, she looked away after a few minutes of no answer. "I am sorry Ser Gwayne for that I did not mean to-"

"It was more than jealousy that I felt earlier princess"

Elaerys looked at him, his head was facing down, completely avoiding her eyes.

"I had become one of the knight that broke their oath to you" he added "so when I saw you with Ser Harwin earlier with his forehead resting to yours I was...furious, I wanted to break his face and make sure he would not be able to do that to you again." her sworn protector confessed.

Gwayne sighs before he let out a plain chuckle "How can I ever resist someone like you? I cannot blame those men even Ser Harwin for falling to a such beauty" he added, his words delivered compliments but its voice was filled with hurt.

Gwayne bowed before he excused himself, Elaerys was left there frozen, not a single word even left her lips, she was too stunned to his confession.

Gwayne was no where to be seen the rest of the day after their encounter, Elaerys searched for him, she even asked the servants and other kingsguard but they all said that they did not saw him.

Elaerys has to express herself to him too, he has to know what she felt for him.

Elaerys gave up and was taking rest on her chamber when there was a knock on her doors, she let them in and it revealed Rhaenyra.

"Father....he summons you in the throne room" Rhaenyra informed a comforting smile carved on her lips.

"For what?" She asked but Rhaenyra only shrugged, with a complaining groan, Elaerys stood up before walking with her sister through their way inside the throne room.

As the door opened, the two princess walked infront of the king as they bowed.

"Ah my daughter Elaerys I would like you to meet Lord Cregan Stark, from the North son and heir of Lord Stark" Viserys introduced, the man Cregan walked up to her and bow.

"An honor to meet you princess" he politely greeted.

He looked like a chivalrous man, well men from the North tends to be more honorable than men from here.

"Lord Cregan is here to begin his courtship to you" Elaerys eyes widened at her father's last words.

"Since you have not found someone you wish to marry than I already find one for yours, Lord Cregan is your betrothed from now on" the King commanded.

The princess fisted her hands, "I do not wish to marry him your grace"

"you will not disobey your king, Elaerys"

Elaerys stepped back away from Cregan and face the King.

"Forgive me your grace but I do not plan marrying Lord Cregan and be sent to the North after?"

Viserys looked at Rhaenyra signing her to stop and convince her sister but Rhaenyra looked away like she saw nothing.

"Elaerys, Ser Cregan will protect you"

"By how? Isolating me in a cold place? Father I am a dragon why would you put a fire in a place like North?"

Viserys stood up, even his Hand try his best to calm him down Viserys refused. Elaerys breathed out composing the right words to deliver her message.

"Father...I have someone in my mind that I wish to marry, forgive me" Elaerys said before walking out of the room, she felt suffocated.

Viserys on the other hand was left with frustration, he have thought he would not have a hard time finding a match for his daughter.

"The princess is probably exhausted your grace, her young mind is new to the reality of betrothal and marriage" Rhaenyra defense.

"She said she wish to marry someone, do you know who is this man?"

The people inside the room waited for her answer, she can feel cold sweats forming on her forehead, the King's Hand spoke.

"News had spread in the previous months ago your grace said that the princess Elaerys was caught visiting the quarter of the City Watch and she is often caught in the presence of the Lord Commander of City Watch" Otto announced.

"Saying such gossip and stories about my sister is treason my Lord Hand" Rhaenyra pointed out.

Otto face formed in a small sly smile. "I am only informing the King of what people inside the Keep see, some said the Lord Commander was saw leaving the princess chamber in the middle of the night-"

"Are you questioning my daughter's virtue Otto?"

The Hand stopped his sentence, shock and defeat spread on his face. "I mean no offense you grace"

"Rhaenyra I need to know who is this man?" Viserys turned his attention back to his eldest.

When Rhaenyra did not answered he spoke again. "I command you Rhaenyra, is it true that Harwin had defile your sister?"

"Sevens! No Father!"

"Then what is the truth-"

"She intends to marry Ser Gwayne!"

A loud silence occupied them, Viserys mouth half opened, the shock om Otto's face was a pure sight.

"Elaerys came to me one night, she was scared when she confessed to me that she wanted to marry Gwayne, she said she was afraid of how you will react and what you will do to them" Rhaenyra added more, her head remained high directly looking to the King.

"Gwayne Hightower he poisoned your sister's mind, he seduced her!" Viserys turned to Otto, grabbing the collar of his clothes. "Your son dare to disrespect me by breaking his vow is this the reason why he resigned and decided to go back in Oldtown?"

Otto wanted to unalive him right there, "Your grace I know nothing about this"

Rhaenyra frowned, Ser Gwayne resigned to his position?

****

Elaerys was running through the halls looking for any signs of him but she failed, she visited the quarters of Kingsguard but he was no where to be seen. When she lost her hope, she saw her sister Rhaenyra walking fast towards her.

"Elaerys, Ser Gwayne he is on his horse going back to Oldtown, he resigned to his position" she informed.

"How did you know?" Elaerys looked at her sister the smiled cheekily.

"I tell you later, for now go and find Ser Gwayne and bring him back here." Rhaenyra said before turning back against her.

Elaerys wasted no time as she mounted her dragon Silverwing, as she settle on its back they immediately flee on the sky.

Silverwing was a quick dragon, looking down the ground she searched for any sign of him, she see a few men in horseback with their Hightower sigil, she lead Silverwing towards them.

Gwayne was occupied ever since they left in King's Landing, the King was curios and uneasy when he humbly resigned his position, he had to come up with several reasons. The King even mentioned how he did well on his job.

If he only knew.

He did not want to leave King's Landing, he did not want to leave her, but resigning and leaving his position is the only proper way he could ask for her hand.

His head turned when he heard a voice calling him from behind, he stopped his horse as he saw the princess dismounting her dragon.

"Ser Gwayne" she called her out, Gwayne dismounted himself from his horse as soon as she approached him.

"Princess, what made you come here?" He said bowing his head.

Elaerys raised an eyebrow, crossing her arm as she spoke. "Where are you going?"

His head remained face on the ground, a small smile forming on his lips. "Back to Oldtown princess, the King approved my resignation"

"You are sworn to me Gwayne" Elaerys uttered, she pushed back her hair as she continue "You took a personal vow to me, and now you leaving without even informing me?"

"I see the princess wasn't too intoxicated to remember that" he smirked, he stepped closer to her facing her intense gaze. "Tell me princess, do you wish for me to stay?"

This may be greedy or selfish of him, but he wants to hear her admit it, he wants to hear her say that she wish for him to stay, to stay and be close with each other.

"Gwayne do not leave me" Elaerys was able to utter those words earning a small smile from Gwayne.

"I will come back princess, I have to leave my position in order to properly ask for your hand" he explained, as he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

He lay his forehead against hers, while he reached for her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to wrap around his neck. For a moment peace surrounded them, feeling the warmth of breathe of each other, their skins touching.

"This is how I always dreamed about you princess, leaning on each other, with your face close to me, hands intertwined" he described, his eyes dropping to her lips. He can feel the princess' pulling him closer, her lips claimed his.

Gwayne can feel his heart melt, his hands moved to cup her cheeks, this is all he could ask for.

Elaerys massage the back of his head as they kiss, her heart won't stop beating fast, when they pulled away both catching breathe. Elaerys was flustered after the kiss, she looked away from him her hand remained to where it is.

"Do not ever leave no matter in what circumstances Gwayne"

Gwayne held her chin, making her face him. "I truly haven't forgot my vow, princess" he chuckles.

Gwayne took her hand, as he kneel infront of her. "I am sworn to you Elaerys Targaryen, I will give my very last breath to no one but you, I shall offer my heart and soul to no one else but you..."

Gwayne looked up to her while he rose from his knee and place a kiss on the back of her hand.

"For I am yours princess."

*~🌼

[d0llcuries]

LYING HAS TO STOP

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: neteyam is haunted by memories he shared with you before he left for awa'atlu

author's note: i think this could technically count as angst but it's more melancholic to me, there's just lots of longing. consider this a warning i suppose. i really can't put it here but listen to “lying has to stop” by clairo while reading for the best experience!! unrelated but i have midterms tomorrow and i haven't studied #yolo !!! 😜 (help me)

neteyam stood on the shore of awa’atlu, watching the sky, it's orange and pink light reflecting off the vast, endless sea. the sky here always seemed too wide, too open, nothing like the comforting embrace of the forest canopy he had grown up beneath. here, there were no towering trees to shelter him, the cool breeze that came off the ocean didn’t carry the scent of the forest, of wet earth and soft moss.

two years had passed since they fled. two years since the sully family left their home, their people, and everything they had known. awal'atu, for all its beauty, for all the new skills and wonders he had discovered, this place would never be home.

home was where she was.

he glanced down at the bracelet that circled his wrist, a simple thing—woven vines and tiny purple and blue beads. he hadn’t taken it off since the day she gave it to him. the memory of that moment was burned into his mind, one of the last things he could hold onto when everything else had been stripped away.

the way her wide, tear-filled eyes had stared up at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was leaving. he explained everything to her, his voice breaking as he explained why they couldn’t stay. she had understood, of course. she always understood. but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

the day his family decided to leave the omaticaya had been one of the worst of his life. the guilt of it still weighed heavily on his shoulders. they had no choice—quaritch wasn’t just hunting his father, he was hunting all of them. staying would have put their entire clan in danger, would have brought death and destruction to their people. but leaving... leaving meant abandoning the life they had built. it meant leaving her.

he could still feel the soft warmth of her hands, the trembling in her fingers as they brushed against his skin. and he could still hear the way her voice had cracked when she told him she loved him, right before she kissed him as if for the first time. her lips soft and trembling, her breath warm and uneven, the way she had pressed herself so close to him, as if she were trying to imprint herself into his very soul. he had kissed her back just as fiercely, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

his heart ached at the memory. every night he replayed it over and over, the feel of her, the taste of her, the way her breath had hitched in her throat when he deepened the kiss. he could still taste the salt of her tears, mingling with the sweetness of her lips. it had been bittersweet—knowing it was a goodbye, even if she had promised it wasn’t forever.

forever, neteyam. i’ll wait forever.

he wanted to believe her. he had to believe her. but the distance between them seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

bitterness haunted his heart at the thought of what should have been. they were supposed to be mated by now. it was all so clear back then, so simple. it wasn’t even a question of if, but when. he could still remember the way she had smiled when he first mentioned the possibility of them being mated, how her cheeks had flushed a soft shade of violet, her eyes bright with excitement. he remembered how shy she had been at first, her hands fidgeting nervously as she offered him a carved trinket she had made. a symbol of their courtship. his heart had swelled with pride and affection, and he had taken it from her as if it were the most precious thing in the world. and to him, it was. everything she touched became sacred, imbued with her warmth and care. the future had seemed so sure, so inevitable, like the turning of the seasons or the rise of the sun.

but then quaritch came back, rearing his ugly head into their lives once more, like a demon from some nightmare. everything shifted in that instant. the careful plans they had laid, the promises they had made—all of it was torn apart in the blink of an eye. nothing was certain anymore. nothing was safe.

the metkayina were kind, welcoming. they had taught him to swim, to ride the ilu, to adapt to their ways. but no matter how much he learned, no matter how skilled he became in their ways, neteyam still felt like a stranger. and at night, when the village was quiet and the only sound was the soft lapping of the waves against the shore, he let himself feel it. the loneliness, the heartache, the longing for a life that seemed further away than ever before.

he thought of her constantly. every day, every night. he wondered what she was doing, if she was safe, if she still thought of him the way he thought of her. he would lie awake, imagining what it would be like to see her again. to hold her. to hear her laugh. his mind would drift back to the quiet moments they had shared—the way she would lean into him, her head resting on his shoulder, the way her fingers would trace the lines of his palm as they sat together in the stillness of the forest.

she was always there, in the back of his mind, a constant, aching presence. he would catch glimpses of her in the most unexpected moments—a flash of her smile in the curve of a wave, the sound of her laughter in the distant call of a tulkun. at night, when the village was quiet and the stars reflected off the still water, he let himself remember her fully, let himself drown in the memories of her.

he remembered how she used to laugh, how her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she was truly happy. how she would tug at his braids playfully, teasing him in that soft, affectionate way of hers. he could still hear her voice, soft and melodic, as she whispered his name in the quiet moments they shared alone.

but as the days stretched into months, and the months into years, that trust had started to feel fragile. had she moved on? the thought plagued him, gnawed at him like a festering wound. she had promised to wait, but how long could he really expect her to? he didn’t know when—or if—he would ever return. and if she had found someone else, if she had chosen to be with another, he couldn’t blame her. he knew she had every right to. after all, he had left her. not by choice, but he had still left. he couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold, to wait indefinitely for something that might never happen.

the idea of her being with someone else, though—it tore at him. the thought of another man holding her, kissing her, making her smile the way he used to—it was unbearable.

“neteyam?” his father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. jake stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable in the fading light. neteyam had grown used to the look—his father’s concern, his quiet observations. “you alright, boy?”

neteyam nodded, though the tightness in his chest told a different story. “yeah.”

jake studied him for a moment, then sighed, stepping closer. “i know this move hasn’t been easy for you,” he said, his voice gentle. “for any of us. but you... you’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders.”

neteyam glanced down at the sand beneath his feet, not trusting himself to speak. his father didn’t know the half of it.

“ke’loreä’s been asking about you,” jake continued, his tone careful. “she’s a nice girl. strong, kind. maybe you should give her a chance.”

she was kind, sweet even, with a laugh that rang like a bell and sea-green eyes that sparkled when she looked at him. she had taken an interest in him from the beginning, always finding excuses to be near him, to talk to him, to laugh at his jokes, even the ones that weren’t particularly funny.

at first, he hadn’t noticed. or maybe he had, but he hadn’t let himself think about it. but as time passed, it became harder to ignore. she would linger by his side during training, brush her hand against his arm when she spoke, offer to help him with tasks that didn’t require any assistance. she was... nice. there was nothing wrong with her. in fact, she was everything a mate should be.

but she wasn’t his.

“i cannot,” neteyam said, his voice tight. he shook his head, his jaw clenched. “i cannot do that to her.”

“to ke’loreä?” jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“to yn,” neteyam corrected, his chest tightening at the mere mention of her name. “i can’t... i can’t betray her like that.”

jake let out a slow breath, his expression softening. “son, it’s been two years. i know you miss her. i know this isn’t what you wanted. none of us wanted this. but you can’t hold onto the past forever. we all left people behind. but maybe it’s time to start thinking about—”

“i am not holding onto the past,” neteyam said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “i am holding onto her. she is not the past. she...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain the depth of what he felt. “i promised her,” he said finally. “and she promised me. i am not going to break that. she is waiting for me.”

“and what if she’s not?” jake asked quietly. the words hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on neteyam’s chest.

he hadn’t let himself think about that. he couldn’t. if he let himself believe, even for a moment, that she had moved on, that she had found someone else, it would destroy him.

“she is,” neteyam said, his voice firm, though his heart trembled with uncertainty. “i know she is.”

jake didn’t say anything for a long moment. finally, he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “i just don’t want you to spend your life waiting for something that might not happen.”

neteyam swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding stiffly. his father meant well, but he didn’t understand. how could he? he didn’t know what it was like to love someone so deeply that their absence felt like a physical wound, to miss someone so much that every day without them was like another weight added to his chest.

jake didn’t push the issue any further. he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning and walking back toward the village, leaving neteyam alone with his thoughts once again.

he closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over him. he could almost hear her voice, soft and sweet, carried on the breeze. he could almost feel her hand in his, the warmth of her skin against his. he could almost see her smile, the one that always made his heart race.

but when he opened his eyes, she was gone. just like she had been.

sobbing. should i do a part two?

[gayerthanevertbh]

does it satisfy you?

summary: it was never meant to last.

warnings: mentions of sex, angst, and no happy ending. basically just a very short one-shot

notes: i'm trying to get back hehe, i hope you like this one :)

Does It Satisfy You?

Natasha took a drag from her cigarette, her exhale curling like whispers into the dim-lit room. Smoke hung in the air, soft and aching, as her fingers grazed your hand—a fleeting warmth that left your skin yearning. Her gaze wandered to the window, where the night stretched endless, stars distant and detached.

She turned to you, brows knit like a question she wasn’t ready to ask. “What do you mean?” she murmured, her voice a thread pulled taut.

You hesitated, the words trembling on your lips. “Every time we…” The sentence unraveled in the air, leaving a space too heavy to fill. “You know, have sex.”

Her laugh was a soft exhale, bittersweet and knowing. “You’re more than a mistress to me.”

“Really?”

Her eyes found yours, deep and searching, and her hand rose to your cheek. Her touch lingered like an unspoken promise. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t adore you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it was crowded with your questions, all clawing for a voice. Is this real? Is she mine? Yet your mouth remained sealed, a coward’s prison. You feared the truth—that you were a flicker in her life while she burned brightly elsewhere. That you had no claim on her, no right to feel neglected.

And yet… somewhere in the dark corners of her heart, did she ache for you too?

“I have class later,” you said, breaking the silence in the air.

“Don’t skip,” she replied, her cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, its final embers fading. “You’ve been skipping too much.”

“I want to be with you.”

A smile ghosted her lips. “You are with me.”

But she didn’t see—couldn’t feel—the depth of what you meant. You shook your head, the weight of your longing pressing like an iron on your chest.

“Nat, I want to be with you completely. Every day. Every hour. Every moment.”

You turned from her touch, retreating into the view of the endless, indifferent night. And as the sky deepened in its darkness, you wondered if your yearning would ever find a home—or if it was destined to remain adrift, untethered, and alone.

Under the soft glow of moonlight, she cupped your face with a tenderness that belied her usual fierceness. Her lips brushed your forehead, and her nose nuzzled against yours like a fleeting promise of something more. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” she murmured, her voice as soft as a lullaby.

You wished she could be like this every day—gentle, unguarded—but the reality you shared was tangled and fragile, a fantasy slipping through your fingers. “What are you thinking?” she asked again, her tone a plea rather than a question.

The words burned on your tongue. Should you tell her? Should you push her away? Hatred was impossible—how could you hate the one who had given you everything you'd longed for? At first, it was only the fire of her touch, but now, it was more. So much more.

With an ache in your voice, you kissed the inside of her palm and whispered, “You have to go back to your wife, Natasha.”

Her brow furrowed in defiance, the sharp edge of her determination softening as she protested, “I don’t understand—”

“Please,” you interrupted, your hands trembling as you placed hers on her lap. You avoided her gaze, unable to bear the hurt you knew you’d find there. “You know I’m right.”

Natasha Romanoff—the woman who commanded attention, who ruled with a presence so unyielding it could bend steel—became someone else entirely with you. In your arms, her dominance melted into vulnerability, her armor discarded at your feet.

When you finally dared to look, her eyes were wounded, brimming with unsaid words. “I want to say it,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

You shook your head, your resolve faltering. “You can’t.”

“I love you,” she said, the confession spilling from her lips like a prayer.

“Do you?” 

“Yes,” she whined, her arms wrapping around your bare waist. She pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours as if she could fuse the pieces of you both into one. Her lips found your neck, her voice trembling as she whimpered, “I love you, darling.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with truth and impossibility. You knew this couldn’t last. But for a moment, you let yourself be held, feeling the weight of a love that was as intoxicating as it was doomed.

"Go back to your wife," you whispered, voice low and trembling, the weight of your words filling the room. With a gentle push, you placed the distance between you, though your trembling hand lingered, as if reluctant to let go of the warmth it knew so well.

You refused to meet her eyes, unable to bear the pain etched in their depths, a silent plea you dared not answer.

"This will be our last time," you murmured, the syllables breaking like fragile glass in the space between you, each one a shard that cut deeper than the last.

The air grew heavy, the unspoken emotions pressing down like a storm, until finally, she turned, and the void she left behind felt infinite.

END.

[evilminji]

Not my usual Fandom BUT...

You know what would be and always is fascinating/interesting/hilarious? For want of a nail type, "tiny change or little action spiral into great and sweeping change" type fics! ESPECIALLY when combined with my dearly beloved Self Insert troupe!

Because? I DO so love the Self Insert! Not so much for the "I can fix it" or power fantasy, as the ability to wander... a stranger in a strange land. Both familiar yet removed. Known to us yet... not. The major actors, major events, certainly. But the lives of the average person?

The noodle shop owner? The ship salesman? A janitor?

We know nothing about this strange new world from their point of view. What secrets can be found in this or that little shop, well off the common path. And it is FASCINATING! Especially if the Insert wasn't particularly FAMILIAR with the source material. Knew enough to get by, perhaps, too know they are in danger... but not enough to twist events to their favor. Assuming they even had the type of personality to TRY such things.

No, no...

What I? Want to see?

What I think would be FASCINATING?

Is a TRUE carry over. Adult mind to adult mind. Someone settled in their ways. Not bold and terribly adventurous, not willing to recklessly seek out danger and pain. No. They know they are going to die. They know they HAVE died. They are now a Jedi. And can feel the Force... and?

It just... helps.

They let go. Yes, perhaps some plans to protect the younglings. If they can. But their ultimately IS no death, only the Force. It is scary, they acknowledge, frightening even. But they... find calm. Acceptance.

They meditate. Open themselves up to the Force and give up their worry and fears, their regrets. All the terrible burdens they brought with them from their past life. It's honestly a bittersweet sort of relief. Ironic, that such a troubled age should be their most peaceful.

Of course... opening yourself up like that? Reaching out so deeply and with such conviction? It's like painting a "hey! I'm right here! I'm definitely going to listen if you say something to me!" Sign on your forehead, where the Force can see it.

So? It DOES.

But unlike Anikin? The Insert isn't a Fighter. So the Force doesn't tell them to fight. After all, every part has its place in the grand machine of Life. Every actor their place on the stage. Sometimes? To change the galaxy? All you need is someone to be on the right planet, at the right time, ready to hold a door open for the right person.

And that's it.

Not everything needs be grand sweeping actions. It can, instead, be the quiet drip drip drip of medicine applied behind a Sith Lord's back. To undo the damage he has wrought. So when comes the time for his plans to unfold? He does NOT find the support he was counting on to succeed. Instead he finds resistance.

But HOW? How would such a thing be DONE? By a YOUNGLING no less?

A youth with no power? Be it social, political, or physical? AND beneath the Sith Lord's very nose? Without being STOPPED? With said youngling being KILLED? Quite simply! Easily, in fact! By embracing the purest of the Light!

Fun.

Who among us, does NOT know of the parasocial relationship? The feeling of knowing someone, considering them "good" and "something like a friend" dispite never once having spoken to them? Being FOND of them? Wouldn't YOU not defend them? If someone sought to HURT them? KILL them? You KNOW them so very WELL don't you? This person speaks LIES about them!

And what of the Adorable Youngling? Small and Cute? Look at their little cheeks and tiny hands! How precious! Why, we have watched them GROW! They are practically family!

But where does the FUN I speak of come into this? Simple. The Holonet. Crechemaster's trying to corral an adult in the body of a child. The Insert is BORED. At peace, yes. But you can really only meditate so many hours of the day. Lessons only take up so much and class work the same. They aren't at an age where the SERIOUS lessons begin yet.

So they have too much free time.

..........have you heard about "Video Game #55? It's apparently got more Video AND Game then ever!" Intriguing~ But, oh. Playing it ALONE it BORING. And playing with... well, INFANTS, is... an exercise in patience. Plus it's probably not appropriate for them. Hmmmmm..... you KNOW.... Insert really DOES miss? Watching Let's Plays over breakfast/lunch...

They've never MADE one... but they know they general script and idea? And for Some Reason? It feels like a GREAT way to pass the time! Yeah! Let's do THAT! And so the Force nudges. Tiny. Seemingly inconsequential. The Master's try to shut it down, Insert is stubborn and refuses, they talk it out. Because they are Jedi and authoritarian force is not their way. Is it frustrating? Perhaps. But the only cure for ignorance is knowledge.

They ultimately compromise. Insert get to keep their little game thing, THEY make sure Insert is compromising Temple security, putting themselves in danger, talking to dubious strangers, or other such perils. It is? A FASCINATING view into the secretive world of the Mysterious Jedi for most of the galaxy. All lead by an adorable Youngling playing games.

Of course, such a silly, ridiculous thing is BENEATH Palpatine's concern. Fun and games? Not even formal or official ones? The child doesn't even represent the jedi. They represent no one. Clearly not a threat, right?

WRONG.

Because one game? Leads to another. Leads to being recommended another. Leads to "hey check out this music". Leads to "how was your day?" Leads to chatting about Jedi philosophy... as simplified for small children. Easy to understand and then complained over like it's maths homework. And... huh.

You guys really liked when I talked about X? Well, I don't know much about it... buuut? I could probably FIND someone or go to the archives? Make a video? I'll make a poll. Vote down below?

Untouchable and distant? Nah. Jedi play "Crafting Game 73" and whine about their Crechemates being JERKS for eating the last dessert. Jedi, in their head's, are small adorable younglings and the amused adults meditating the back ground who watch over them. EVERYONE knows the Jedi. The Jedi are on our datapads. Are our friends. We've totally met them.

Parasocial relationships.

Or maybe that's just me? I just... God I REALLY want to see how they'd react to a initiate who just? Won't stop fuckin making Let's Plays of all things. Just? WHY. HOW? WHY AND HOW?! No, NO don't you shrug at me and run of, youngling! Get back here! What "skill issue"? Which skill? Initiate!!!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @leftnotright @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @spidori

[certaimromance]

✮ Bittersweet Sixteen.

TASM! Peter Parker x Kindergarden teacher!reader

Summary: After weeks of not speaking, you need Peter to do you a favor and put his suit back on. But the last thing you expected was to find your heart beating for him again, just like in high school.

Words: 4,2k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lack of communication. friends to lovers. pure fluff. first kiss yep. temporarily located years after the last movie, peter has already graduated from college and left the life of a superhero. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I have had this in my drafts since I started writing here (months ago) and it makes me very happy to be able to stop correcting it a thousand times and publish it.

Your office was your sanctuary. It was the only space in the entire school that offered a reprieve from the chaos—quiet, orderly, and a place where you could drink hot coffee in peace, without worrying about a child knocking it over. But today, everything about the space felt…off. Your desk, usually neat and meticulously arranged, was cluttered, a bag sitting on top that didn’t belong to you. The air was tense, charged with unspoken words. And most notably, you weren’t alone.

Peter Parker sat in the chair across from you, hunched over slightly as he fought with the too-snug sleeves of his old Spiderman suit. The blue and red fabric was wrinkled from years of disuse, clinging to him as though it, too, was reluctant to let go of the past. His hair was mussed from pulling the mask off earlier, and his expression was a mix of concentration and awkwardness as he avoided your gaze.

The last time you’d seen him was on your date—a surprisingly pleasant evening at a restaurant that had intimidated you at first with its crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths. You’d laughed more than you expected, found small moments of genuine connection beyond that of usual friendship, and left the night feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. It ended with a polite goodbye and a brief, somewhat hesitant hug. It made you think of the teenage girl you used to be, who had a crush on him back in high school. It might have been silly, but you felt butterflies, and you were sure he did too.

But then…nothing. No calls. No texts. You’d waited, your phone practically glued to your hand, each notification making your heart jump. Days turned into weeks, and the silence between you solidified, leaving you wondering if perhaps the connection had only been one-sided. Now, he had come to your work, yes—but not for you. At least, not in the way you’d once imagined.

It was all because one of your students was the biggest Spiderman fan you had ever met, and that was quite a lot for a kid who had practically lived more without the superhero in action than with him saving lives and walking between buildings. It was only a matter of time before you had a lightbulb moment.

“You know,” Peter said suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy quiet, “I don’t think this suit has seen daylight in years.” He tugged at the sleeve, grimacing when it resisted. “Either it shrank, or I grew. Both are bad options.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, a reluctant smile forming despite the tension. “It’s probably the suit. Lycra has a way of holding grudges if you don’t treat it right.”

Just like me, you thought. You still were trying to remind yourself that he was just there to surprise one of your students and that it wasn't about you or your friendship.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking down at the suit. “It’s been a few years, at least. I’ve been busy…you know, at the lab.”

You stepped closer, reaching out instinctively to smooth the fabric along his shoulder. The action was small, but the proximity sent a wave of awareness through you. His shoulders were broader than you remembered—had he always carried himself with this quiet strength?

Damn, you had to concentrate. Really.

“Right,” you said softly, focusing on adjusting the suit. “The lab. I know…but you’re still good at the hero thing. Showing up, being there for people. That’s kind of the most important part, right?”

He looked up at you then, his brown eyes catching yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he offered a lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, I couldn’t say no. Not to you.”

Your fingers paused on the cuff of his sleeve. The words were simple, but they landed heavily, stirring something in your chest that you weren’t quite ready to name. It was probably your heart exploding, just like when he would pass you in the hallways at school and accidentally brush your shoulder against his or when I smiled at you suddenly and said that you looked good. It was deja vu. A big one.

“You didn’t have to,” you replied, stepping back to create some distance. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d been too busy.” Just like how you were these weeks, not to call me.

“Too busy for Spiderman’s number one fan? That’d be a pretty lame excuse.” His attempt at humor was there, but his tone carried an undercurrent you couldn’t quite decipher—something apologetic, maybe even regretful.

You folded your arms, creating a barrier you hoped would steady you before talking. “Jamie’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” you said, your tone deliberately light. “It’s the perfect birthday surprise.”

His face softened at the mention of your student, and he seemed genuinely grateful for the change in topic. “Jamie,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “You said he’s, what, five? Six?”

“He turned six today,” you corrected, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And completely obsessed with you—well, with Spiderman. He spends half his recess pretending to swing between buildings, and his favorite art project this year was a crayon drawing of you fighting a giant lizard. It’s hanging on the bulletin board outside the classroom if you want to see it.”

“Now I definitely have to see it,” Peter said, his grin returning. “Sounds like my toughest critic.”

“Hardly,” you replied, the warmth in your tone surprising even yourself. “He thinks you walk on water. You’re going to make his entire year just by walking into that classroom with his birthday cake.”

He shifted in his seat, his usual boyish charm dimming slightly as he looked at you. “You’re the one making this happen. You didn’t have to ask me to do this. It means a lot, you know. That you thought of me.”

The weight of his words settled between you, making your heart tighten. There was something in his tone—earnest, maybe even vulnerable—that made it hard to look away. You knew better than anyone how much the decision to give up the hero role had cost him, how many times you two had talked about whether this was his true purpose in life.

“Of course I thought of you,” you said softly, and then, more hesitantly, “I mean, you’re Spiderman. Who else was I going to call for this?”

Parker chuckled, but there was a note of self-deprecation in the sound. That was not an answer to be expected, no matter how obvious it was.

“Yeah. Spiderman. Right.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the mask sitting on your desk. “I just…I didn’t think you’d call me at all. After, you know...”

There it was. The thing neither of you had been brave enough to address until now. Why? Why? Why?

The words hung in the air, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. You could feel the silence closing in, like the pause between breaths right before a storm breaks. His eyes—those warm, familiar chocolate eyes—seemed to be searching yours, as if waiting for some kind of answer, but you couldn’t quite find the words. He was your friend, your best friend, someone you could tell anything to. But now, nothing coherent can really come out of your mouth.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room almost unbearable. Your heart thudded against your ribs, and you knew you had to break the silence. But now wasn’t the time. Not in this place. Not like this.

“Let’s…let’s focus on Jamie, okay?” you blurted, your voice coming out sharper than you intended, almost a little too loud for the small space.

He blinked, clearly startled by the sudden shift, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other.

“Right, Jamie,” Peter echoed, giving you a smile that was a little too tight, a little too cautious. He shifted, standing up from the chair, and the air around you seemed to settle just a little.

You cleared your throat, stepping back, your gaze flicking to the clock on your wall. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you walk through that door.”

He looked at you, his lips twitching at the corners, though the tension in his eyes didn’t fully fade. “You’re sure you don’t want me to do a big dramatic entrance? Swing through the window or something?”

You laughed, though it felt a little strained. “Let’s keep it simple, okay? We don’t want to traumatize any of my kids.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved towards the door, and for a second, you hesitated. He was still wearing the suit—his Spiderman suit, the one that had once made him a legend in your eyes. But now, as you stood there, a thought nagged at the back of your mind. The suit was a part of him, yes, but so was the mask. The mask was his identity, the thing that separated the hero from the man.

“Hey, wait,” you said, your voice softer than before, and he paused mid-step. You walked over to him, the sudden proximity almost overwhelming. The mask sat on your desk, waiting, like a silent question. Your heart raced as you picked it up, turning it in your hands for a moment, letting the weight of it settle. “You should probably put this on. You know, just to keep your identity safe. We don’t want anyone knowing who you really are, right?���

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, his voice lower now, almost distracted.

You swallowed hard, your hands suddenly trembling slightly as you moved closer to him. The space between you seemed impossibly small, and for a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there, suspended in this strange, fragile moment. You could feel the warmth of his body, the soft rhythm of his breath as he stood in front of you, and for the first time since he walked into your office, it felt like the distance between you had closed.

And for a moment, everything felt like it did in high school, when you were both teenagers trying to hide the secret and not to fail your subjects.

Gently, you reached up, lifting the mask toward his face. His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, everything in the room stilled. You could feel the weight of his gaze. And in that moment, as you moved to place the mask over his face, your fingers brushed against his skin—a simple touch, but one that felt electric. His jaw tensed under your fingertips, his breath hitching slightly.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing, and carefully slid the mask into place. The action was small, but it felt monumental, the kind of quiet gesture that spoke volumes. It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, and as you adjusted the mask, making sure it was secure, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again in your heart.

“Perfect,” you said softly.

Peter looked at you, now fully transformed into Spiderman, and despite the mask, there was something in his posture, in the way he stood, that was unmistakably him. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled through the fabric, though there was still a tenderness in his tone.

The sounds of children’s laughter and chatter grew louder as you moved toward the classroom, the vibrant energy of the moment standing in stark contrast to the quiet tension that had surrounded you both earlier. You stole a glance at Peter. Even in the suit, even behind the mask, you could feel his nervousness, a subtle hesitation in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight uncertainty in his step. It was as if he was still learning how to be this version of himself again, but the earnestness was unmistakable.

When you reached the door, you paused, turning to face him. “Ready?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying the weight of the moment.

“Born ready,” he replied, his smile audible even through the mask, though it was tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping in first to scan the room. The instant the door swung wide, the children’s eyes locked on you, their faces lighting up with excitement. Jamie, sitting at the small table with his friends, froze mid-conversation. His eyes widened, his face glowing with anticipation as he jumped to his feet.

“Miss! Is it time for the surprise?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“Not just yet,” you said, your lips curving into a conspiratorial smile. “But I think you’ll want to pay attention.”

And then, with a theatrical flair you hadn’t expected, Spiderman stepped through the doorway and the cobwebs appeared. The room erupted in gasps and squeals of delight as the kids leapt from their chairs, crowding around him with wide-eyed awe.

Jamie froze, his mouth hanging open as he clutched the edge of the table. “No way,” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. “It’s really him?”

Peter crouched down to Jamie’s level, his movements fluid and natural despite the years away from the suit. “Happy birthday, Jamie,” he said, extending a hand for a high-five. “Someone tell me you’re my biggest fan.”

A soft laugh bubbled in your chest at the mention. The kid hesitated, looking at you for confirmation, and then, with all the enthusiasm his tiny six-year-old body could muster, slapped his hand against Peter’s gloved one with the loudest, most joyful smack. “You’re real! You’re really real!”

The other children chattered excitedly, peppering Spiderman with questions about his powers and his adventures. He handled it all with practiced ease, weaving just enough humor into his answers to keep them laughing but still utterly convinced that he was, in fact, the superhero they adored.

As you watched him, standing back and taking it all in, a soft warmth spread through your chest. He wasn’t just good at this—he was great. His ease with the kids, the effortless way he connected with them, it was clear: he was a hero not only in costume but in every little action. The doubts that had plagued him, the years spent questioning if the mask was still a part of him, seemed so far away in that moment. He had it—the ability to inspire, to make people believe, to make them feel seen and important.

For the first time in weeks, you felt that flutter in your chest again—the one you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. It was hope, soft and steady, like a heartbeat you’d forgotten how to hear until now.

You stayed near the back of the classroom, content to let Peter soak up the adoration while you took a couple of pictures of it. But every now and then, he would catch your eye, and even through the mask, you could feel the gratitude radiating off him. It was a silent thank-you, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond between you, for pulling him into this moment, for giving him the chance to be this version of himself. You nodded, your lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

When the excitement finally began to settle, the cake was brought out, and Jamie proudly showed Peter his crayon drawing—an adorable depiction of Spiderman battling a huge, ferocious lizard. He studied it for a moment before declaring with all the sincerity he could muster, “Museum-worthy,” making the kid’s face light up with pride. The joy in the room was palpable, and it was impossible to tell who was happier: the children, who were living out their dreams, or the superhero himself, who was finally realizing that, perhaps, there was still a place for him in this world.

Eventually, it was time for him to “swing” away, and after a round of hugs and high-fives, he disappeared down the hall, leaving a room full of awestruck children in his wake. You stayed behind, cleaning up the remnants of the party and basking in the lingering joy.

By the time you returned to your office and all the kids to their houses, the hallways were quieter, and the sound of little feet had faded. But when you stepped inside, there he was—Peter, still waiting for you, now back in his civilian clothes, the Spidey suit crumpled in one hand like a tired, old memory.

“Oh,” you said, a little startled. “I thought you’d already left.” I wish.

“I figured I’d stick around for a bit,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair, still slightly ruffled from the mask. “I don’t exactly get to see kids this excited for me every day.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “You really made Jamie’s day. I’ve never seen him so starstruck. He’s going to be talking about this for his whole life.”

Peter chuckled, but it was a little strained. “It’s good to know I’m still that impressive,” he said, his tone light, though there was an underlying sadness that didn’t quite match the words. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been in the game…you know, the hero thing.”

You just nodded. “You are good at it, you know.”

His smile was a little wistful as he tossed the suit onto the desk, his eyes following it for a moment before meeting yours again. “Yeah…but that’s not really what I came here to talk about.”

At his words, you felt a flicker of curiosity mixed with unease. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Oh? What did you want to talk about?” Please say you want to correct my bad posture when I took the pictures or something.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers nervously tapping against the desk. “Honestly…I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks,” Peter began, his voice quieter now, almost like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “About you…about us. And, well, I guess I just…I missed you.”

Oh, that.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his words. For a moment, the room seemed to close in around you, your breath catching in your chest. He missed you? You hadn’t expected that.

Before you could respond, he went on, his words coming faster, like he couldn’t stop himself. “I know things have been weird since the date. And I didn’t…I didn’t want to just text you or call and make it feel like I was making things awkward. You know? So, I guess I just…waited for you, and I get the message.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and every conclusion you ever had was shattered.

“Wait,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “You were waiting for me to call?”

“Yeah. I mean…I thought maybe you were the one who needed space, and I didn’t want to rush things or make it weird. I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for or didn’t want.”

Not ready? Don’t want? You literally had been wanting it since you were sixteen.

You blinked again, feeling a warm flush spread through you. “I…I thought you were the one avoiding it. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, so I didn’t reach out either.”

His eyes widened slightly as the words sunk in, and for a moment, there was just a long silence between you, filled with the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above. Then, finally, a soft laugh escaped him, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too, the tension easing slightly.

“I guess we were both just sitting here thinking the other person would make the first move,” Peter said with a grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “This is ridiculous,” you said, your laughter soft but genuine. “We’ve been friends for years, and now we’re both too nervous to talk about it.”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Yeah. Seems like we’ve been pretty bad at this whole communicating thing.”

The laughter between you two died down, the room suddenly feeling warmer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the soft shuffle of Peter’s shoes against the floor. You felt a spark of something flicker within you—something long suppressed, a longing, an ache you hadn’t quite realized until now.

He shifted in his chair, a bit unsure of what to do next, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the fabric of his crumpled suit. His eyes met yours, and for a second, the weight of everything—your shared history, the unspoken words, and the lingering emotions—hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to snap.

“I guess we should…try this again,” he murmured, his voice low and tentative. The vulnerability in his tone made your heart flutter. “If you want.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm, but this time it wasn’t from nerves. You stepped closer, closing the space between you, feeling the presence of him so close you could almost feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Yeah…let’s try again,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. “I want it.”

Peter stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was giving you time to change your mind. His hand reached out slightly, as if asking for permission, and you met him halfway, your fingers brushing against his. A spark of warmth shot through you, igniting a familiar flame.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, as if memorizing every detail of your expression. Your breath caught, heart pounding, as you met his gaze—his brown eyes soft, but with that unmistakable spark of affection you had longed for.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured softly, his words both an affirmation and a confession. The sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch in your chest. You smiled shyly, unsure how to respond but feeling the weight of his words settle deep within you.

Slowly, he leaned in, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His lips brushed against yours lightly, just a whisper of a kiss, a hesitant touch that held more promise than any grand declaration. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, feeling your body relax into the familiarity of him. His lips lingered against yours for a heartbeat before pulling back, as if checking in, unsure of how much was too much, too soon.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” he said, his voice a little shaky, as if unsure of how to navigate this new territory between you two. “I just want to take things slow, see where this goes…do it right.”

You nodded in agreement, your hands gently gripping his as you let the moment linger. “Yeah, me too. No need to rush.”

He stepped back slightly, looking at his watch with a sigh. “I should go,” he said, his smile a little sad. “I’ve got work, and you probably have things to do.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, but you understood. The moment, as sweet as it had been, couldn’t last forever.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

He nodded, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, you definitely will.”

Peter took a step back toward the door, but before he could reach for the handle, he stopped, turning to face you once more. There was a hesitation in his eyes, a pull that seemed to tether him to you in that moment. Without a word, he crossed the room in a few strides, his hand reaching for you again, this time more urgent, more sure.

Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours again—this time, deeper, more insistent, as if he could no longer wait for you to make the first move. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—of all the missed chances, of the longing, of everything unspoken between you. It was both sweet and desperate, a promise and a question wrapped up in one.

You responded instantly, your hands finding his shoulders as you leaned into the kiss, feeling the heat of his body against yours. For a few moments, nothing else mattered but the rhythm of your kiss, the way his fingers brushed your hair back, and the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Finally, when the kiss broke, both of you stood there, breathing a little heavier than before, eyes locked in a silent exchange that said more than words ever could.

He ran a hand through his hair again, his expression a mix of longing and determination. “I’m not waiting anymore,” he said softly, as if to himself. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You smiled, the weight of his confession making your heart flutter. “Then don’t wait,” you whispered back.

And with that, Peter leaned in one last time, pressing his lips to yours, not with hesitation or doubt, but with the certainty that whatever this was—whatever was between you two—was worth fighting for, even if you both weren't sixteen anymore.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Golden Cufflinks: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. https://colormepurplex2.tumblr.com/post/766335488954138624/golden-cufflinks-jjk Confined: Y/n didn't think testing out a new sex toy would cause so much havoc but no worries, her next-door neighbor Jungkook doesn't mind lending her a bit of assistance. https://www.tumblr.com/cravetive/742183386711539712/%F0%9D%97%96%F0%9D%97%A2%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%99%F0%9D%97%9C%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%98%F0%9D%97%97 Show Me Something: He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested having a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along. One of which is the boy that still has a tight hold of your heart without either of you even knowing it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/30396546 Slow Dancing: When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale. https://archiveofourown.org/works/39615618 Call Me Mistress: "It has certainly been quite the party," you began, taking a stroll around the table to give his friends time to ogle you. "But I'm here for someone else on his special day.” The end of the riding crop snapped suggestively against your open palm and you felt excitement bloom around the large table. “Now, let me see if I can find out which of you is the birthday boy..." A long-term client hires the Mistress to help celebrate his best friend’s birthday. The festivities lead to new business. https://dark-muse-iris.tumblr.com/post/164844332231/call-me-mistress-ramen-m-part-1

Sillage: Soulmate!AU where soulmates are drawn to one another by the infliction of physical touch, whether it be pain or pleasure. But it is only initiated once the two people somewhat interact. https://www.tumblr.com/deerguk/144529213896/s-i-l-l-a-g-e-pt-one The Pink Pill: This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/723667191148462080/the-pink-pill-jjk-version-m-3-days Reminder: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/721591770571554816/reminder-jjk-m-masterlist Stay: “Jungkook,” His name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “If we do this - if we go down this road - how do we go back?” https://eoieopda.tumblr.com/post/703940957854449664/stay-jjk

Losers: I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded. https://www.tumblr.com/eternalguk/744420253674668032/losers-jjk-m

[lovelytsunoda]

welcome to wherever you are // lance stroll

summary: weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions. but for lance's fiancee, the wedding is just another big milestone that her father never lived to see, like her first day of kindergarten, or her high school graduation.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

warnings: depictions of greif, mentions of a parental death.

author's note: i've been on such a bender lately listening to inxs, they truly were one of the greatest bands of the 80s, and I think its a shame that things ended like they did with micheal's death in 1997. i could genuinely talk for hours about it, and about the very real daughter he left behind, but for now i'm going to let the fic speak for itself.

also i feel like i've only done smaus lately bc i've just been in a total idea rut and these are so easy to make lmao

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

VOGUE Weddings: Inside the wedding between Aussie-rock darling YN Hutchence and F1 driver Lance Stroll (you might have to click on these to read them properly)

y/n.hutchence just made a post!

liked by lancestroll, kirkpengilly, officialinxs and 34,508 others.

y/n.hutchence today was a hard day, despite being the happiest of my life. like most milestones, it was bittersweet. while i spent most of my day in love, and excited for what's to come, part of me was also grieving. my dad should have been here to walk me down the aisle, to meet my husband. to give a speech at the reception. i miss you, dad. but i know that you'd be so proud of me.

to my lovely lance, thank you for choosing me, for loving me. for reminding me that its okay to feel all the emotions at once. i love you forever, my husband xx

see all comments

lancestroll i love you, my darling wife. you are so strong.

andrewfarriss michael would be so proud of you, kiddo

user the fact that she went public for the day just to speak about her grief on her wedding day . . . that's a caliber of person i could never be

sebastianvettel thank you both for including me in your special day

user she walked down the aisle to 'beautiful girl'....i'm totally not crying my goddamn eyes out

user im not crying you are

user her dad died over 20 years ago....she needs to let it go

-> user lmao imagine telling someone who never knew her father outside of how the media portrayed him after his death to 'get over it'.

mickschumacher 10/10 pasta bar, would come again. your harem of old men scared the crap out of me, though.

-> kirkpengilly old?? who are you calling OLD

-> y/n.hutchence you mean my non-biological uncles? mick, they're the biggest sweethearts

y/n.hutchence just added to her story

y/n.hutchence and lancestroll just posted!

liked by astonmartinf1, sebastianvettel, timfarriss and 29,808 others

lancestroll mr. & mrs. hutchence - stroll, march 2024, sydney australia

see all comments

y/n.hutchence i think lance hutchence sounds pretty great

-> lancestroll and i think y/n stroll sounds pretty good too

scottyjames you're taking her last name? good on you, bro

astonmartinf1 welcome to the family y/n! (or should we say 'welcome to wherever you are'? see what we did there?)

fernandoalonso did anyone else get a little teary eyed during the vows?

-> timfarriss i was right there with you mate

-> mickschumacher i saw esteban cry so hard he gave himself the hiccups

y/n.hutchence hey google, play 'never tear us apart' by inxs ( and say thanks to kirk for playing the sax almost all night)

(next part)

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @lorarri @cartierre @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh

[gossippool]

what do you recommend for people who are very new to deadpool comics and looking to get into them?

hiii thank u for asking!! this is kind of a complicated question because there's no right answer really. especially with deadpool, there's no actual best starting point because besides the basic origin story that he was experimented on, everything else about him is fair game (he just lies all the time and has false memories about his past) and so all the comics are different and pretty much standalones. but here's a list of a few comics depending on what you want to explore (i have not read every deadpool comic ever so this is not the best list but i will get there):

for shorter and more lighthearted reads:

deadpool (2022)—SO so cute wade has a crush on this non-binary assassin and it's actually adorable how much he likes them lol. in terms of shorter deadpool comics i think this one is quite a standout [update: the ongoing deadpool (2024) is brilliant as well and is a direct more in-depth continuation of this]

deadpool infinity comic (2021)—a short partnership with sue storm. funny and the art style is so cute too

deadpool (2018) #6—the issues in this run are all kinda standalone stories (although they all connect at the end). they're all a fun time but this issue in particular is hilarious. comics usually don't make me actually laugh but this one did

for a more meta read that explores exactly what makes wade unique from other superheroes:

deadpool kills the marvel universe (2011)—in my opinion THE most iconic deadpool run, i'm sure everyone's heard of it lmao. a little darker but hey cameos from every marvel character ever. this was the first deadpool comic i ever read and it was a good time

for a familiar face from deadpool and wolverine (for other specific familiar faces you could just search "deadpool vs [character]" and that comic would probably exist):

honestly just search "deadpool and wolverine" and you'll probably get the whole list but here are some i've read that are lovely:

deadpool & wolverine: wwiii (2024)

deadpool vs. wolverine: slash 'em up infinity comic (2024)

weapon x-traction (2024)

for long in-depth characterisation that explores a lot of deadpool lore:

deadpool (2012)—if you've been following me you might know this is my favourite deadpool comic ever. it's pretty depressing and much grittier than the movie deadpool you might be used to, also REALLY long so it can be daunting but it's very worth it imo. it starts to get really good by the good, the bad, and the ugly issue and there's just SO much in it. for me wade in this run is inseparable from wade as a character to me (this comic is also followed up with deadpool (2015) and despicable deadpool (2017). these aren't necessary to read because 2012 kind of wraps up on its own, but it's definitely bittersweet to get to the end)

deadpool (1997)—another hulk of a comic run. i have not read this yet but i've heard very good things about it, and many people say that joe kelly is the defining deadpool writer so you could give it a go! older comics may be a little harder to read though, from experience

for comics featuring ellie (wade's daughter) that you may want to read in order if you want to fully appreciate her and wade's relationship:

deadpool (2012, 2014, 2015)

deadpool (2018, issues #8, #12, #15)

deadpool (2024)

a lot of comics will sometimes redirect you to other comics that explore a sideplot, and the main comic will just pick up where those left off so you could miss some storyline. despite this it's not necessary to read those other comics, but if you want to avoid multiple instances of this when you first go in, then i would suggest starting with the shorter runs!!

i hope this was helpful lmao sorry this got really long but i think the starting point really is different for everyone depending on what they like

[nthee]

I DON'T KNOW IF I'MA SEE YOU AGAIN . . .

summary: a slight, or well, not-so-slight blunder led to the unfortunate events of him losing his memory — his memory of you and anything related to you.

characters: riddle roseherts, silver, lilia vanrouge

contains: angst with a bit of fluff, gender-neutral mc (uses second person view aka "you"), the reader blushes (described to be flushed)

notes: title is from see you again hehe :) i just thought it kind of had amnesia trope vibes idkkk dont ask me why atp, inspo comes from anywhere fr. also SURPRISE IM BACK let's ignore the fact that it's been 5 months tho i was so burnt out :(

⌗ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“Let me help you with that. [...] What? You're staring.”

“Ah, it's... it's nothing, sorry.”

The close proximity is enough to make you go insane. Perhaps it's better if you just took the time to actually fix your tie this morning. That way, he wouldn't be so close! So close that...

Oh Seven, what if he hears my heartbeat?! Ack, calm down, calm down! I don't want to scare him of, what if he thinks it's — I'm creepy?!

“You seem flushed, [Name]. Are you alright?” his movement stills while holding onto your tie, and you mentally facepalm.

Riddle's hand makes its way to your forehead, the back of his hand pressing onto your skin, before realizing he's wearing gloves. He clears his throat at the mistake, opting to feel your temperature using the back of his wrist — the exposed skin between his sleeve and glove.

“Temperature is normal... a little bit warm, but nothing serious.”

“I'm alright! It's nothing, really.”

Too close, too close, too close!

Riddle retracts back, almost as if he could hear your pleas. He sighed, clearing his throat as his eyes wander around — look everywhere, anywhere but them, Riddle.

“I should — ah, we should get to class...” you reminded. You mirror his actions, averting your gaze.

“Right. Class.”

He offers an arm, one that you graciously take without a second thought. “Let me escort you there. I did hold you off for several minutes.”

Excuses! Riddle's mind yells. You're falling for them!

He doesn't care in the slightest — just as long as you're there to catch him. Though he knew you for a grand total of five days, he knows you'll be there.

⌗ SILVER

“Have I... met you before? I have, haven't I?”

A bittersweet laugh escapes your lips, startling Silver in front of you. You pull yourself together, smiling as you gaze into his eyes — the same eyes you'd lose yourself in, letting the time pass doing just that.

“Once upon a dream, right? That's what you were going to say?” you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, thankful you laughed first before the waterworks arrived. Thank goodness, he can't see me sad.

Silver's eyes brightened, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. “It's... it's you. I meet you in my dreams! Everytime I close my eyes, I... I see you.”

His hands are softly holding yours as he speaks, his thumb tracing your skin delicately — like you were glass, or a treasure. It's enough to make you swoon, just as he's always done before.

“Don't leave my side.”

He thinks it's selfish to ask that from a stranger. But you are no stranger. You know the truth, but he suspects it's destiny — that you've actually met, talked, danced before, only well, it was in his very own dreamland.

You can feel the tears again. Maybe this isn't so bad? Or, at the very least, this isn't the end.

“I wouldn't even think of it.”

⌗ LILIA VANROUGE

“Are you a friend of Silver's? I don't think I've seen you around before.”

Those words were uttered before you could even process the initial news of Lilia's predicament — before your heart could even let it sink in.

You could only choke back the words threatening to slip off your tongue, lest it sound like utter crap to someone who just lost his memories.

You and I are more than friends. You play— well, played lighthearted tricks on me. I fell for them. I fell for you.

“You... could say that,” was all you could muster up. There was no point in explaining more, he wouldn't understand them.

There was understanding to his nod, a subconscious feeling of something nestled deep in his heart.

“Are you troubled? You seem to be.” his tone is soft, yet firm. Lilia had always been that way; a mentor, father (or, father-like to ones who don't know he was actually one), shoulder to cry on, wise fae to depend on...

A lover. Was a lover.

Now, all was left was Lilia before he even got to know you.

Lilia Vanrouge, a schoolmate of yours, once again.

← | © nthee, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, adapt, and use my work in anything that associates directly with ai.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama @caplanreblogsfics

[mischievousskin]

a field of geranium - yuuji itadori

--

summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.

warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.

a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;

--

you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.

when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.

you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.

it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)

going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.

(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)

you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.

--

you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)

now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.

you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.

“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.

he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”

“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.

he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.

you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.

--

“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.

yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.

“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.

“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,

“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.

“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.

nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.

“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”

megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”

“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.

“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.

--

two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.

ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.

so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.

that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.

it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.

you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.

so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.

at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.

“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.

the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.

“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.

the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.

it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.

its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.

you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?

“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.

yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.

“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”

“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.

“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”

“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.

he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.

“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.

“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.

you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”

he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”

after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.

“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.

yuuji laughs too.

“it's a long story.“

you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”

[galacticnova3]

Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.

I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.

Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.

The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.

You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.

When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.

@onenicebugperday