#w: moth to a flame

[nicsalazar]

Moth to a flame || Nicole & Zane

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @rn-zane  & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Nicole comes to the ER with a cut. Zane's super chill about it. CONTENT WARNING: Medical blood

Eleven. That was the last time Nicole set foot in a hospital. A sprained wrist after a tree climbing accident. She always enjoyed climbing, despite her mother’s numerous warnings. What she first recalled of that day, however, wasn’t her mother grounding her for two weeks (though that did suck), but how much she had hated being asked questions and prodded by professionals, and fuck— did it make her feel like a freak. 

So she decided, after that, that she was done visiting hospitals for the rest of her life. 

It was clear in her demeanor that she didn't want to be here, waiting to get that nasty cut on her arm checked. It wasn't even her fault. And it was fine. But the boss insisted she got it checked. Doing as much as to send someone to chaperone her. A fucking chaperone. Nicole slumped, face wrinkled in displeasure, mind going over incident reports and other paperwork she wasn’t looking forward to get done. She almost missed the nurse that was fast approaching to her side.

Straightening up her back slightly —she wasn’t rude, okay?— Nicole gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Believe me, this is unnecessary. I can just... rub alcohol on it myself" thank you very much, she didn't say.

Zane rarely had much time to do a proper reading on patients before he saw them, usually getting the highlights thrown at him before running to the next bed. This time, he’d actually managed to find a free computer at the nurse’s station, sitting down mostly to get his mind back on track. He wasn’t supposed to be here right now but when the handsome charge nurse asked Zane for… well, anything - his automatic response was an enthusiastic yes. One day, he might end up accidentally curtsying to the man if he wasn’t careful. 

So here he was after his already 16 hour day shift, filling in for a sick nurse and heading into hour 20. And he was hungry. 

The smoothie glass with his shift ‘snack’, very clearly marked with his name and a ‘do not touch’ sticker, had held him off for some time but… besides, his replacement would be here in less than an hour. He had other things to think about, like the - oh, wow - literal firefighter waiting for him. 

Head slightly clearer, he maneuvered past the gurneys posted in every hallway and pulled back the curtain to the assigned spot. A courteous nod to the man standing by the hospital bed was all Zane managed before the patient, the firefighter, spoke up. 

Zane smiled, a soft smile reserved for children and the more nervous of patients. “I really won’t be a minute and from what I heard, you might not even need… stitches…” His voice faltered at the end, eyes dragging to the wound on her arm. It was still weeping blood despite the fabric pressing down on it and the smell wafting up…

He cleared his throat, dragging half of his attention back to the patient. Nicole. Human. Not a meal. “I’m Zane. Do we need to worry about any debris in there, Nicole?” 

Maybe they’d be done soon. And she wouldn’t have to tell Leah about her ER visit. Nicole lowered her gaze, snuffing out the small flame of hope in her chest. Instead her eyes fell on the makeshift bandage, willing to accept –for the first time– that it still seemed to be sticking with fresh blood every now and then. And that couldn’t be too good, right? She tilted her head to figure out a proper answer to his question.

“I— probably” Nicole admitted, jaw tightly clenched before she let out a weary sigh. Some of the tension evaporated in her breath. After all, these people were here to help. No matter how terrifying she found their shiny tools to be. When she spoke again, the edge was gone from her tone. “They patched me up with what they had in the field. We don’t really get too…” she snapped the fingers, fishing for the word in her hazy brain. “Cómo se dice? We just got the basics up there, y’know? But should be clean enough”. 

Nicole glanced at her crewmate, but he remained quiet, as if scared to contradict her. “Someone in handcrew slipped, they were carrying fuel… branches, weed, anything that can—” did nurse Zane need the whole story? She paused, heat rising to her cheeks. “It might be a little dirty, anyway” she concluded, releasing the hold she had on her left bicep, silent permission for the nurse to go ahead and get to work. 

For the first time ever, Zane was relieved to have a nervous patient. Nicole seemed way too preoccupied with her own discomfort to notice how jittery the blood was making him but her guest on the other hand… Feeling like he was getting rid of a witness, he politely asked the man to hang back in the waiting room due to lack of space, which definitely wasn’t a lie. With curtains on every side giving staff just enough space to squeeze in next to the beds, one extra person could definitely fill up the space. 

“Right, I noticed the firefighter thing. That’s really cool, y’know,” Zane started, falling into the habit of talking to distract patients and, in this case, hopefully distract himself as well. “Not sure I’d willingly run into a burning forest, even if I was getting paid for it.” Practiced hands busied themselves with preparing an IV line, his attention focused on the non-injured hand for now as he swiped over the skin of her forearm, tightening a tourniquete. “Small pinch,” he warned, settling the IV needle in place and making quick work of bandaging it down, definitely not entranced for a moment at the droplet of blood that managed to leave the line before he screwed the cap back on. 

“I’ll need to draw some blood, maybe get a little fluid in you. Are you feeling woozy at all?” Turning from Nicole, he busied himself with preparing supplies for the wound, really not in a rush to expose the whole thing to his nose. 

Nicole offered a small, thankful nod once the nurse finally dismissed her chaperone. She planned on slipping past him when she was free to go, but her escape ideas and other petty thoughts were interrupted by the nurse’s voice. Breathing out a laugh, her eyebrows pinched together. “It really isn’t like that—unless you’re a smokejumper… or a hotshot, which I’m not. They’re the cool action heroes” she explained. There was nothing glamorous about digging up a fireline or reducing fuel. “You work in the ER, I bet people think it’s… y’know, stuff out of a movie”.

Her eyes landed on Zane, as much as she hated staring. Nicole’s options were limited in the secluded space. For the first time in the evening, her thoughts went to someone other than herself. Knowing a thing or two about exhaustion, it was easy to recognize the signs on him. So she acknowledged the pang of guilt at her previous behavior, mentally promising to be more cooperative moving forward.

At the sight of the needle, Nicole tried to distract herself by sneaking a look past the curtains. She couldn't really make out anything but white coats and varied colorful scrubs, but it did the job of taking her attention away from her arm as the nurse set the IV line. “No…no. I’m—” fine, she almost said, stubbornly. But the words died in her tongue. No one was here for her to prove a point anymore.  “Not woozy, but— guess my arm kinda hurts” she conceded, bringing her thumb and index finger as close together as possible, “barely”. That part was true, she had endured far worse. Meanwhile, she appreciated the play by play, wondering if that’s what she had needed when she was a kid. No one seemed to explain much to her, referring only to her parents. She could do the whole introspection thing once she was back on her feet. “Right, blood, take it”. She gave him a nod, ready. 

She was talking now, visibly less stressed now that her coworker had left. The answers about Zane’s firefighter inquiry seemed rehearsed in a way, as if she was used to making sure people didn’t think she was an actual hero. It was stupid, obviously, if only judging by the giant cut on her arm that she definitely wouldn’t have gotten working at some desk downtown. “Yeah, your job seems really safe and this definitely doesn’t make me think you’re an action hero,” Zane joked, nodding towards the cut and just as quickly looking away from it again. Keep it together, man.

Smiling as Nicole finally let go even further, admitting to her pain, Zane gave her good arm a soft but comforting squeeze. “Secret’s safe with me,” came the conspiratorial reply as he gathered up the vials, took the samples and set them aside. He was running out of tasks to do that didn’t involve assessing the wound and a phantom heart was starting to beat wildly in his chest at the thought. This hadn’t been a problem any other time, he’d literally gotten covered in blood a few shifts ago and only felt a mild pang, like when you dropped a fresh cookie and realized you couldn’t eat it. Now it felt like a tug, this hunger, egging him on to get to the source of blood and then… what? He’d never bitten anyone, didn’t plan on it and especially not in here. 

So he rambled on as he gathered up the rest of the materials, moving to give Nicole some painkillers. “I remember the first forest fire I ever saw, we were in California and it almost started out of nowhere. The news had all this footage of people doing what the could, helping families from their homes or spending hours cutting down trees and digging ditches, I was pretty much in awe and wondering if would ever be able to make an impact like that. Then when they covered the deaths I realized that a job that dangerous is definitely not my style, I mean, Grey’s makes hospitals look like the most dangerous place ever to work but that’s TV and here…” Zane finally looked up from the gauze he was unpacking, mild horror dawning on his face. “Sorry, I’m… rambling. Let’s get to that wound, yeah? Get you out of here.”

Without giving himself time to overthink it, Zane positioned himself next to Nicole’s wounded arm, removing the material that had previously been keeping her blood where it was supposed to be. It wasn’t too bad, would definitely need a few stitches and a little bit of cleaning up but there didn’t seem to be any damage to muscles or nerves. A small artery had gotten cut, still dripping out fresh blood. Zane swallowed. “You’re going to… you’re going to need a stitch or two.” His eyes were locked on the wound now, gums aching with pressure. 

Nicole bowed her head, shaking it in disagreement. “I’m not!” she doubled down, a hint of mirth betraying her words. The optics were there, she couldn’t pretend they weren’t. If she were slightly removed from her situation, then she could probably see it a lot clearer. She let the topic go, unwilling to agree with him, but unable to find the arguments to persuade him.  Zane, on the other hand, was doing a great job at turning her perception of medical care around. She felt further at ease once he offered a friendly squeeze.

The gentle hum of understanding was the only sound Nicole made as he recalled his memories of wildfires. It never got easier, dealing with families losing all their belongings. Arguing with those who refused to live their livestock behind. And then, of course; the casualties. Civilians and firefighters. It was a lot, but any sort of commentary she made would tilt their previous argument towards Zane’s point of view.

“You’re fine” Nicole never minded ramblers. If anything she always held quiet appreciation for them. It made conversations so much easier. She was a listener, and if somebody else wanted to take the spotlight, well… it was the perfect scenario, wasn’t it? “Getting out of here sounds great, but I don’t mind your chatting” she raised her gaze to offer a reassuring smile, but his face gave her a pause. “Um. Are you—” okay? She closed her mouth, let him gather and prepare what he needed. Meanwhile her mind raced, searching for an explanation. Maybe he was new. Hadn’t gotten used to all the bodily fluids yet. He looked very young. it would make sense. 

Nicole knew direct questions were uncomfortable. Sometimes provided no results. So she had perfected the art of the roundabout. Finding a parallel thread to pull from, until the truth came undone. “Long day?” She tried, instead. Maybe she was doing that thing again. What was it called? Projecting or something. “You look a little rough, is all” Or like you’ve never seen a bloody arm before. Only then, she realized she should be concerned about that. From a logical point of view, not a sentimental one. Because this person was about direct all the pointy things into her skin and if he wasn’t completely comfortable… “Sure we need that? I— I need that, I mean. You think I need that?” she looked pointedly at the suture kit. “I scar pretty well, actually”. She was stabbed in the shoulder once, not a single was stitch needed. But Zane couldn’t know that was because a jaguar had overtaken her body for five years. “Maybe a bandaid’s enough”.

“Hmm?” Lips pursed tightly together, Zane tore his attention away from the wound and looked up, straight into Nicole’s worried eyes. So he obviously wasn’t hiding his raging thoughts well, or at all. She was looking at the suture kit like he’d proposed cutting off the whole arm to make things better and honestly, he didn’t blame her with the way he was acting. “Oh, uh… yeah, extra shift today. Sorry.” Hands working on their own accord, practiced movements dousing some gauze and wiping it around the wound, most of his attention on the opposite wall in the hopes of shutting up the clawing voice in his head. 

“Think I might ask the doctors to stitch it up, actually. Since it cuts a little deep.” He’d done a few sutures in his time here, most of them shallow but sometimes, on the really busy days, a junior doctor would throw the suture kit his way and run off to some other, hopefully more sick, patient. Theoretically, Zane could do a good job of stitching up the wound. At this very moment, though… 

The gauze moved over a nice, clotted part of blood, tearing it away and -joy- exposing even more blood from the wound. Zane felt it before he realized it, the shift in mindset and the distant feeling of his eyes gaining more focus on what mattered. His gaze was downcast, thankfully, as now red eyes were staring down at the wound. “Let’s, uhm…” he stuttered out as he moved to stand, briskly enough to make the stool he’d been sitting on tumble backwards. “I’ll go get them now,” he blurted out, turning away from Nicole and grabbing at the bridge of his nose, which was a mistake with a blood splattered glove still on. “Sorry, I… sorry.” It was almost incoherent, words spoken through gritted teeth as he stood tense for a few seconds too long, willing his body to move. 

It finally did, clattering into the nicely prepped table of supplies and sending a few things scattering to the floor. The brisk walk away from Nicole, away from the temptation, was closer to a run than a walk as he retreated to the nearest bathroom and locked the door, leaving him only with the blood spattered gloves, eyes still gleaming red and head pounding. 

Nicole opened her mouth, deciding to ask a follow-up question. Something that would shed light on why the young nurse's behavior suddenly changed. But he interjected before she could say a thing. His suggestion earned him a frown, and Nicole’s latent annoyance surged up again. A doctor? Wouldn’t that take more time? Time that she absolutely didn’t want to spend in a fucking hospital? She shook her head, making the mistake of clenching her hands into fists. She let out a hiss as her wounded forearm protested the action.

But the pain reined back her anger, allowing her to put things into perspective. Neither Nicole nor this guy were having the best of times, clearly. It was better to part ways. He certainly didn’t look in the headspace to shove a needle into her arm. She sighed. “Ah…Y— sure, whatever you…” her words were cut off once more by his jolting movement. Jesus. She winced at the clattering sound the stool made as it flew back. She sat there, dull ache forgotten, watching this man become an incoherent, twitchy mess. The apologies spilling from his mouth barely registered, as another clumsy movement ended up with supplies scattered on the ground. Oh, the guy had lost it. Nicole almost felt sorry enough to reach out. But she didn’t, because having to wait for a doctor still pissed her off .

His turn to disappear was marked by a flash of something red, but Nicole was too stunted to comprehend any of it. The detail would end up forgotten as she reported the story back to her crew. With the small cubicle now silent, there were no distractions to stop the steady wave of annoyance washing over her. She clenched her jaw, tempted by the idea of bolting.

Well, so much for Zane changing her perception of medical care.

[flintstonegummy69]

togachako au

[gothsuguru]

thank you to the person who requested geto being obsessed w gojo’s gf because the idea of it is DELICIOUS - here’s a lil teaser!

[syncopatedid]

Thinking tl;dr thoughts about how Link Click clicks with the butterfly leitmotif just as well as the other wuxia donghwa because: 1. The Butterfly Lovers:  One of the great Chinese tragic love stories of its time, centered around the romance of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai who were soulmates but fate kept tearing them apart, and were only able to finally reunite after death when they are reincarnated as butterflies. Much like its theme of ill-fated soulmates, the pair seemed trapped in an inescapable fate that threatens to keep them apart.

2. The Butterfly Effect: Part of the Chaos Theory, the butterfly effect is the idea that small, seemingly trivial events could ultimately result in something with much bigger, unpredictable consequences. Key word here is unpredictable. This very much is a concept that is reflected in this series, on how Xiaoshi's... and later on, Lu Guang's actions, had resulted in changes in the timeline, with the final revelation being that Lu Guang's one action had led to the future being completely altered, but at what cost to follow?

3. Xiaoshi and Lu Guang as yin/yang butterflies: Butterflies in Chinese culture, for the most part, are good omens, symbolizing "rebirth" and "transformation". However, the conundrum is that for transformation and rebirth to occur, it implies there must be certain "loss" or "death". Most butterfly species also have very short lifespans, which directly mirrors Xiaoshi's life cut short. Far as symbolism goes, I see them as a Yin/Yang dynamic, so Xiaoshi would be a black one (like a Black Swallowtail) to Lu Guang's white (like a Cabbage white), but what gels perfectly in my brain about these two species is that not only do they contrast each other in almost every way (size and flashiness?), a white butterfly is specifically thought to represent the spirits of the dead revisiting their loved ones (see also: 1.) and I am alluded, ironically, to the imagery of Guang being the soul from "another world" returning to the past in search of his lost soulmate, and now existing in an alternative timeline, a world where he actually doesn't belong to... and must eventually let go of. Just something to think about.

[pcketknves]

[ paths crossed ] ; a continuation from here for @pennedbymoxiee .

it'd always been pretty easy to tell whether or not someone was bullshitting her . the lilt of a voice , the fear of being caught in a web of lies ; neither of those things present within the woman that was nearly a victim to ellie's wrath . for a moment still did it seem as though hesitation stirred within , the corners of a weary and dry mouth twitching ever so slightly before sucking back a click of disappointment the tongue against teeth .

" okay , " a heavy sigh , though one wouldn't be able to discern if it were out of disappointment she couldn't use this one for info or if it were out of relief she could let her guard down a smidge . " so you're not a wolf ; the hell are you doing all the way out here ? it's not smart — got these so called " scars " running around on top of the wlf and the infected . "

thick were the humidity that seemed to only increase with ellie's incessant pacing back and forth as though she were trying to gauge in her mind where to go from there . gaze never leaving the dirtied tops of canvas sneakers , she'd stop suddenly where dirt and debris would shift 'neath the soles of worn down shoes . with a small pivot did she regard the woman with a steeled gaze , finally being able to take in the view of what could have either been enemy or companion .

" joel — , " she'd pause , eyes quickly shutting as she turned her head away briefly . to speak of his name brought upon her memories she didn't want to relive and a guilt she continued to pile on her like pounds of dirt 'pon a grave . " he used to tell me about the other countries out there in the old world — you're not from here , are you . "

much less a question than it were a statement ; the accent gave it away . her hands found their way to the stable hills of her hips , her mind yet again the tipping scales as she weighed her options . fear and the general distrust of others told her to jump ship ; abandon the idea of strength in numbers , but the crushing desire to not be alone willed her for invitation . a quick and skillful once - over took in the other's arsenal ; prepared despite not being from the U S of A .

" that's not a bad arrangement of shit you got , " her tone lighter now ; as though to apologize for her otherwise vicious behavior from earlier . she'd had the bad habit of never apologizing unless she truly meant it — a sign of her authenticity and her dislike for lying . " given you haven't been bitten yet or at the very least shot dead . . . makes you one of the rare ones . "

another brief pause ; a moment of caution , though she'd thrown it to the wind rather quick .

" ellie , " a bloodied and dirt - riddled hand reached out — what was the point in lying , anyway ? " looking for a girl named abby . got big ass muscles and a braid , you seen her ? "

anything was better than nothing .

[candyn-gutz]

Where did you first found it btw? I assume in a "omg look at his fits" type of post?

honestly i really don't. remember??? but maybe it was from some recs i randomly saw on twt or something...

i first read it when i was uuuhh 14? i think. it was an eye opening experience then. his fits were a big bonus though.

[moe-broey]

LIKE something I think is all of the Askr family are like mirrors. Alfonse is a reflection of how much he loves Sharena and the summoner. Sharena is a reflection of how much she loves Alfonse and how, I think in the autistic sense, I think she mirrors A LOT. Henriette is a reflection of how much she loves Gustav (and seemingly, so severely that that love struggles to reach everyone else). Gustav was likely a reflection of how much he loved Henriette and his father. All of them are performing, adhering to SOMETHING. Their roles, and what seems to be The Correct Course of Action.

[gutterbonestm]

Tattoo design of a moth being singed by candle flame

[boypussydilf]

i GOTTA rewatch hlvrai but i fear that it will once again fling me into the deepest throes of insanity not that that’s a bad thing but like im not ready for that. im busy

[hua-fei-hua]

i think “grief borne of hope” would be an interesting theme to explore.

“i’m sad because i feel as if i have to watch others suffer, because that choice to help is a false bottom i can’t remove. i’m sad because i’m grieving for my underclassmen, whom i fear will follow my example and continue to suffer themselves for the sake of their peers. i’m afraid of giving them the strength to force themselves through trials and situations i wouldn’t wish any of them to undertake. i grieve for the losses they will suffer because i fought in vain for improvement, but all they saw from me was hope.”

the losing captain’s grief. the problems with inspiring hope. it’s such a sad story to tell, and i don’t know if i can answer the question of, “well, how do you solve those problems?”

[satiricaily]

*wakes up tangled in my earphones and my last.fm is showing me ive been listening to fake plastic trees by radiohead on repeat for the past 5 hours*

[lovegasmic]

ur writings are so amazing im inlove w them!! can i request a brother’s bestfriend geto x fem reader? also if it’s okay with u, could u write a lil smut🫣🫣

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND

⋆ mdni. slightly pervy suguru + shy reader, cunilingus, fingering, pussy job, Suguru has a lip piercing, i coulndt help it. you're Satoru's sister or stepsister because mhm I needed a name...

 ⋆ thank you sooo much for the compliment, love 💕 also sorry this took so long :(

it really isn’t fair.

Satoru really shouldn’t be so cruel and deny the sweet taste of you to his best friend, although of course, Suguru has never made a comment or move to show his real intentions, opting instead to silently stare as you make your ways though your kitchen in those cute shorts of yours.

“don’t look at her, you pervert” Satoru huffs, leaving a slight slap on the back of Suguru’s head, to which the dark haired man replies with an amused chuckle, playing with his bottom lip, feigning ignorance.

“tsk, i wasn’t looking at your sister”

it’s a lie of course, quietly thanking his fashion taste for choosing a pair of baggy pants to cover the growing bulge between his legs, most likely wetting the fabric of his boxers with sticky, translucent precum.

two sets of controllers were held by both men’s hands, often yelling profanities to a tv screen until the sun hid and the moon shone bright, what a pity, really, it looks like Suguru will have to stay the night.

“here’s some blankets” at least this time Satoru is kind enough to toss a heavy blanket onto his best friend’s lap followed by a yawn, much different from the previous times where he left the black haired to his own. and it’s not until Satoru’s side of the couch remains uncomfortably still, that he realizes the blue eyed is —in fact, fast asleep, snoring with his head hanging from the couch backrest.

it’s funny, really, that until Suguru finds himself staring at the ceiling, uncomfortably laying on the other man’s bed, no one was using it either way; but who the fuck falls asleep at 11 pm, on a saturday night.

quiet steps make their way outside the room, greeted by the dark hallway in his way to the bathroom, although, —and almost heavenly, Suguru catches a glimpse of your bedroom at the other side of the hall, door ajar and letting out a little bit of what it seemed like lamp lighting onto the carpeted floor outside.

it’s almost inviting.

his feet instantly turn from his way towards the bathroom, drawn to you like a moth to the flame, “hey” Suguru barely whispers, knocking on the wood before pushing it open enough for his body to pass, “can’t sleep?”

a soft rustle of your bedsheets is what greets him, followed by a surprised look on your eyes and the soft thud of earphones falling next to your body, solely covered by a shirt and those shorts that drive Suguru insane, “it’s a bit too early to sleep” you reply back, a soft chuckle following.

the sound is like a melody to his ears, followed by his own and a gentle hum, “your brother is knocked out” as if invited, the black haired takes a few small steps until he sits at the edge of the plush mattress, palms itching at the attempt of not giving in and wrapping his fingers around your pretty ankle.

with a half lidded gaze he turns towards your phone, held by one of your hands as you curled on your side to look at him with those bright, gorgeous eyes of yours, the screen is flicking, an incoming notification, “texting your boyfriend?”

“don’t have a boyfriend” you retort with a slight chuckle.

and Suguru’s eyes widened for what seems like a millisecond, “i don’t believe you” he teases, shaking his head while subtly, and barely noticeably slides closer to you, the loose black sweatshirt he wore suddenly getting hotter, “a pretty girl like you... without a boyfriend?” his tongue clicks, “something’s wrong with those boys”

the subtle shift of your feet against the mattress doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru, who tentatively press a thumb on the border between your skin and the socks you wore, “it’s not that...” you murmur, and he notices how you’re embarrassed, he’ve known you for quite some time to realize those kind of small details, “just haven’t found the one”

Suguru hums, licking his bottom lip and mindlessly tracing the cold metal of his piercing for a bit longer, his head turns to look at you, “boys your age are so immature” his voice is low, and honestly what a thing to say considering he’s merely four years older than you, “barely getting into adulthood, don’t know how to treat girls like you” a smile spreads through his face as his thumb rubs on your ankle and your throat bobs slightly as you swallow. are you as turned on as he is?, “i bet they can’t satisfy you either, can they?”

upon hearing his words your eyes widen, face burning and yet don’t tear your leg from his lingering touch, intoxicated by the look on his eyes and slowl, purring words, “Suguru... what—”

“it’s just a question, doll” he chuckles, brushing it off with a shrug, a few hair strands falling on his eyes at the tilt of his head, “no need to answer that, i’m certain no one has made you feel as good as you deserve” it’s a test, to check on your reaction to his not so subtle advances.

but you show no sign of discomfort, instead, your gaze turns towards the dresser and mirror on your side, nervously chewing on your bottom lip in a motion you often do while embarrassed, why are you so fucking cute?

just a step closer, “i can, though...” his voice drops even more, sliding his thumb and fingers across your calf and towards the bend of your knee, “make you feel good”

“Suguru...” you breathe, shifting your gaze towards his.

“no one has to know, just you and me”

“Suguru,” you try again, catching his attention that was locked on your almost bare thighs, with a gulp you whisper, ”lock the door”

and that's all he needs, heart skipping a beat and cock twitching in his boxers at the same time he reaches for the door, locking it before climbing over your body this time, hungrily roaming his darkened eyes through your body, “so fucking pretty” he huffs, sliding his fingers under your neck and using a thumb to part your lips, pressing under your bottom lip to finally, finally claim the lips he has been dreaming off, locked on his or wrapped around his cock.

you whine and he’s melting, a soft grunt escaping Suguru’s lips as his tongue slides across yours, fucking your mouth and sucking your tongue lewdly enough to leave you gasping.

you come to realize Suguru is not talkative in bed either, opting to use his hands to roam across your body, and lips to bring out more sounds from your mouth, “do you trust me?”

and you nod, so cutely he needs to bite down slightly on your puffy bottom lip, hair a mess solely from kissing, he wonders how stunning you’ll look while getting fucked.

“good girl” is a purr, followed by Suguru’s lips detaching from yours and finding your neck, gently nibbling and kissing the skin, all the way down to the valley of your clothed chest and belly where your shirt rise; his kisses continue across the band of your shorts before he’s pulling them down slightly, whistling low at the sight of your now drenched panties.

teasingly he nuzzles on your clothed clit, making you whimper and squeeze his head with your thighs, which only makes Suguru chuckle and cock jerk more precum into his underwear.

“i’ll eat your pussy, alright? tell me if it’s too much” what a gentleman he is.

then his eyes are on you, noticing the rise and fall of your chest and glossy gaze, first rubbing your slit through your panties, groaning low at the feeling of your wetness seeping through the fabric, showing the outline of your drenched folds, “Sugu...” you mewl with toes gently curling on the sheets.

a bit more of friction and he could have cum in the spot at how sweetly you say his name.

“i’m here, honey, i’ll make your pretty pussy feel so good” he promises, and like a man truth to his words, his finger slides under the crotch of your panties and slides them aside, another deep rumble comes out at the sight of your pulsing cunt, drooling slick enticingly.

Suguru waits no time at licking your folds, sliding his tongue across the tender and hot skin before swirling your clit, each stroke and slurp a bit harder than the previous, indulging into your taste while at the same time keeping you on the edge due to his slow and measured movements.

you whimper his name again, tentatively sliding your fingers across his soft and long hair, normally held in a bun but now it’s framing his face so beautifully you’re left breathless. your words and the gentle tug on his hair is what he needs to use both thumbs to spread your folds, using one hand to keep your panties aside before plunging the wet muscle inside your sobbing walls, gently massaging your insides with growing intensity.

Suguru can’t help and groan against your pussy lips, lust driven and slightly humping his hips down against the mattress at the same time he fucks you with his tongue, lapping and slurping the delicious nectar coming from between your legs.

soon a finger joins his tongue, and merely minutes later two are pumping inside and out of you, although Suguru was hesitant to depart from your sensitive cunt, he found the movement of his fingers and lips wrapped around your clit was much better to make you scream, and how much he wished you were at his place instead, because he would have never allowed you to cover your mouth with your hands, muffling your sounds for your family not to hear.

“S-suguru, i’m close!” you barely get to squeal through your fingers, a futile attempt to curl over his body and detach his lips from your cunt, one that quickly get replaced by the arch of your back against the mattress at Suguru’s lips sucking harder and fingers curling just precisely to caress the spot that made your thighs twitch.

barely pulling back he groans, “come, beautiful” then his lips are on you again, keeping his pace to bring you to the edge until you’re drenching his lower face.

you cum so hard your vision goes black, breathlessly moaning a bit louder than allowed, hopefully your brother was still asleep, yet through the orgamic daze you manage to catch a glimpse of Suguru’s smirk and messy hair, wiping your slick on his lower abdomen before releasing his cock from underneath his clothes, hard and flushed, dribbling breads of precum.

fucking you it’s too risky, and the idea of leaving you to fetch a condom from Satoru’s room is not even a possibility, especially with the way you look like you’re about to pass out, but it’s fine, Suguru is patient.

he kneels between your legs, gently cooing at your questioning whine, and sliding your panties barely aside, then guiding his tip to your slit, snuggled between your dripping folds as he starts to thrust, cockhead smacking wetly against your clit and up to the front of your panties where a creamy patch grows, “fuck” he huffs, gripping on your thigh to spread you open and increase his thrusts, fucking himself with your pussy lips, “sorry, princess, I can’t hold it” he attempts to joke, but his gaze is focused on your cunt, while yours is on his ethereal Suguru looks, flushed and biting on his bottom lip to muffle his moans.

it doesn’t take him much to cum with a shudder, embarrassingly quick but that’s just the effect you have on him, completely staining your underwear with cum that drips down your slit and Suguru is about to groan, fighting back the urge to coat his tip with the sticky mixture and guide it inside your needy pussy, but alas, he’ll bring protection next time.

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “PRETTY BOY.”

— expect the worst when whitney has a stupidly, dumb puppy love crush on his upperclassman that happens to be you and even more so, when you predictably take notice of it. but, remember— he asked for it first, didn’t he? 3.5k w.

— warnings? yeah, mildly dub-con, handjob in broad fucking daylight, somewhat exhibitionism although no one gets to see the stupid, pretty boy squirm and upperclassman male reader who’s sort of.. a bitch. y’know the drill by now, plus a younger whitney (still an adult, no worries. I’m not into that sorta shit.)

Like a clueless moth instinctually drawn towards a burning flame, he’s no goddamn different than the clingy idiots who can’t seem to automatically take a hint when given so in their direction— y’know, the ones he’d audibly snicker and scoff at due to the sheer embarrassment, disgustingly obvious puppy love streaked along their flushed faces as they mindlessly follow the other’s every move. Innocently peer up in search of their crush’s approval like some sort of brain dead dog whose sole purpose is to joyfully please their master. Hell, it’s gross, and the blonde doesn’t make it any more difficult to showcase his wrongly placed dislike for it— yeah, by the repeated gagging noises spilling forth from his open maw.

“It’s nauseating to watch, stinks up the whole room with those big, puppy, doe eyes”— he’d openly say with an absent shrug of his broad shoulders, glinting, barely visible glimpse of the metallic barbell freshly pierced upon his curved tongue proving his judgemental statements to be otherwise.. fuckin’ hypocritical, no? ‘Cuz, isn’t that same piercing found in his mouth done due to one, single, stray comment you aimlessly made by chance?

Not like your liking of things plays a grand role in whatever he does, trouble he’s immediately roped into, fuck— no, definitely not! It’s a stupid, damn coincidence is what it is, nothing more and nothing less either. No need to uselessly pry any further in the meaning of his baseless actions. Just.. happened to have it done on the same consequential day you confidently expressed your idea that he’d get one because— y’a said it’d look good on him, didn’t you? And, look here, he fuckin’ did it like some cheap mutt. Obediently parted his rosy lips for your viewing pleasure to willingly prove to your pretty eyes that he truly went along with your absently made suggestion, for real. Gleefully hung upon your every important word like his life depended on it— god, it isn’t like that, okay?

An upperclassman he’s briefly looked up to is all you are, all you’ve ever been for that matter, and he’ll punch the shitty, fuckin’ lights out of any big mouthed idiot who dares to say so otherwise. Right in the guts for spouting out complete, nonsensical bullshit, alright?

Or is it time to reluctantly admit it with a bashful blush apparent upon his contorted features— accompanied by gritting teeth stubbornly grinding together in a futile refusal of his shoddy, unwanted sentiments burrowed deep within his stuttering heart? As if he’d ever would in your presence, which he possibly can’t help himself, to childishly imitate your gestures in the withering hopes that’d you scarcely notice his thinly veiled efforts, acts filled with meaning.

Well, well.. Whitney, the supposedly cold and untouchable bully here isn’t so unique nor different from those idiotic dumbasses he’d routinely poke fun at, huh? Time to face the embarrassingly evident reality set before him, whether his gaze dares to instinctively stray away or not from the unsettling truth— ah, good thing you’re here to seamlessly guide him on the right path, ain’t that right?

As for the so-called, morally ethical path he’s hopelessly talking about.. Perhaps, that’s a plain, ol’ lie he’ll repeatedly tell himself of so considering your shared reputations at hand. More likely than not, often referred to — as much as the nickname itself has the tip of his ears prickling scarlet, noisily yelling at the fuckers who cheekily name him that — your little, dumb puppy. Fuck, he’s not! The day he, himself, Whitney of all people, wordlessly bows down to the height of someone’s heel frustratingly grinding atop of his head, is the day one can loudly claim with unbridled conviction, that he’s officially lost his goddammit mind, that’s what.

Listen, you’re the one who faithfully promised and guaranteed your unwavering protection if he stuck to your sides like some fuzzy pet, so he did the obvious choice. Specially when met with the shitty conditions this rundown town, definitely shady for that matter, is. Rather be silently stamped as the ‘sly follower’ who went along with the smartest choice presented to ‘em— your offer, by the way — than some nobody seamlessly forgotten on the dirtied streets. Least, that’s what likely replays on and on in his mind like some cheap, broken record to dumbly convince his unmoving mind of what this annoyingly persistent feeling is deep within the pit of his quivering tummy. Annoying, ain’t it?

Speakin’ of tummy, you sure are touchy-feeling with him, aren’t ya? Not that he necessarily minds nor will outwardly admit the slightest shivers that comes to grace the entirety of his figure when met with the briefest grazes of your fingertips flush against his bare skin. Likes the physical contact intimately shared between you two? Fuck no— just keeping himself on your good side in case you were to suddenly discard him like you habitually do with your other.. nameless toys, which he doesn’t possess enough fucks to bother learning their names. As long as your flickering gaze doesn’t happen to stray too far from his, he’s actually, pretty content.

‘Course, it did progressively start off with the sorta things you’d absentmindedly do with your numerous friends. Brush of his golden strands glimmering against the gleaming sunlight— shit, even acted out like some cheesy rom-com at the way his face instantly heated up, glimpse of vulnerability you seem to so easily catch on with him and fuck, does he detests it— truly does like no other. Still, lets y’a carelessly stroke your fingers throughout the mess of a hairstyle the delinquent wears, even fucking.. tenderly pushed a single, stray strand of hair behind his burning ear. Shoulders instinctively drawn up in sheer defence at the tension residing within him because, really, how do y’a expect him to relax and ease up when it’s with you?

“What? What is it? Do I have shit in my hair or somethin’?” Oh yeah, nice goin’ on that fuckin’ stupid question of his, huh? Flush adorning the length of his face— god, even down towards his neck too— immediately deepening at the crude choice of words. Might casually speak so with anyone, but when it comes to you, he’s got this instinctual urge to not come off as some try-hard desperately trying to butter you up in hopes of your returned approval of him.

“Hm? It’s nothing, I just think you’d look cute if you grew out your hair a little bit. Don’t you think?” Ah, and there you go— with your surprising compliments spoken out of the blue like that.

“Cute?? Are you seriously tryna fuck with me right now?” Defensive mechanism or whatever to draw up that blank conclusion since this is just about the first time any sort of adjective resembling that of ‘adorable’ by the way, could’ve been made to plainly describe a rowdy, unrelenting boy such as Whitney.

“What? You don’t think so? I think you’re cute as shit, Ney-ney.” That fuckin’ nickname again, god. Quit it, will ya? And, don’t try to tentatively lean closer in his personal space when calmly making that stupid remark too! Your goddamn— ah, hot breath effortlessly heating up the shell of his ear, curled lips almost, insistently pressed against his cheek. “Real fucking cute, actually. Definitely cuter than the average boy that’s for sure— prettier too, but you’ve got too much of a stick up your ass to admit that, don’t you?”

At this point, you’re practically taunting him, and he would’ve unabashedly swung his fist if it weren’t for that said person being you. Grin cracking upon your lips at the doe, wide-eyed look he’s greeting you with, seemingly unable to utter so much as a word to that uncharacteristically depraved statement, or is that your idea of a damn compliment to another guy? Shit, that’s right! Both guys is what you two are— so, his cock hidden underneath the fabric of his ripped jeans, languish legs lazily stretched out along the creaking, wooden bench, shouldn’t be stirring up with peeked interest at the mind numbing prospect of endlessly being called ‘pretty’ by you. Nor profusely encouraging the alarming amount of translucent pre-cum dizzyingly forming at the swollen tip of his cock head, crudely staining the material sheer. Give the blonde a supportive head pat while you’re at it, too. Ah.. should be saying somethin’ right about now lest he wants to appear as some bashful fool.

“I don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t swing that way, I know. I’m not hitting on you, I’m just telling the truth as it is. Got any idea how many guys would line up just to fuck your dirty mouth? Maybe your tits too, if they’re into that sorta stuff— shit, I think they’d go for the ass too, definitely. I could make a goddamn fortune just whoring out your pretty, slutty body to the old fucks at the pub, y’know that, Whit?” Endless chattering on and on, explicit details of how some grubby old men could be here, disgustingly groping his flesh instead. Yet, that lingering glimmer within your gaze, noticeably darkening in return at the mere idea of it as your thumb comes forth to idly tap at his blazing cheek.

“But, you know.. I don’t. I won’t. Not cuz’ I’m a nice guy or anything— hah, truthfully, I’m no better than them for wanting to ruin a pretty face like yours.” You’re.. god, he can’t keep up with whatever shit you’re nonchalantly spouting, gracing solely his ears to be the one to silently listen to this.. crap, can’t really say it— fluttering in his tensed stomach from your bold admission, depraved wants just as much as he does late at nights— wanting to fuck him too.

“Honestly, do you know why I don’t use your sorry fuckin’ ass, Whitney?”

If he’s meant to attentively keep up with your words by now, then his brain has happily shut off due to the dizzying amount of semi-insults, degration and somewhat praise shot in his way. Like he’d fucking know, shit!

“See, it’s cuz’ it’s real funny to watch you trotting ‘round my side like some dumb, fucking puppy begging for its owner’s attention. I give you just a bit of praise, and your doggy tail would start wagging if you even had one. You look so goddamn stupid that it’d hurt my conscience to sell you out like this. And, I don’t like it when other fucks touch what’s mine either. I’m not running some gracious charity, am I?” To be truthful, if you tirelessly keep up with that incessant spouting, he’s bound to boil over like some screeching, burning kettle considering.. the obscene amount of scorching heat riddled across his features currently, adorning his cheeks so stupidly — and prettily too, huh— crimson red for your unwavering gaze solely. Seems like you’re liking the rare show in front of you quite a bit, aren’t you?

Stunned would’ve been one of the few lacking words remaining in the thick, daunting dictionary to scarcely describe the absolutely idiotic expression he’s nicely sporting right about now.

“Shut up.. I’m not—“ Fuck, fuck, fuck!! And, how the simple concept of verbal speech dutifully fails the bully at a time like this. Great going there, fuckin’ dumbass! Visibly seething would’ve been the most reasonable reaction in face of this, but— but— fuck! Entirety of this crap is all too quick for his sluggish mind to steadily keep up with your unpredictable actions, pathetically keening with a drawled out curse— no, more like a high-pitched whine is what it truly sounds like, once your calloused palm gingerly strips him free from his relatively loose jeans in one fell swoop.

“What the fuck’re you doin’—?? Mmph, fuck.. don’t—“ Dumb question to be asking when the self-evident answer is plainly in front of him.

Weeping cock, flushed in the cooling, outside air, naturally springing forth out of its constricting confines to audibly slap against his bare rigid tummy. Aw, now ain’t that real pretty to witness? Timid, twitching cock profusely leaking out sticky pre to messily smear along the curve of the blonde’s stomach, which you promptly do the honours for him, unabashedly too.

Always been pretty confident in your audacity to joyfully serve people, haven’t you? By god, he’s half-hated ya for meddling with others private businesses to begin with, although his throbbing cock being so smoothly tended to can say otherwise, idly disagree with his withering logic. Shakily sighing, puffing out heated huffs of air as your so— fuck.. annoyingly warm and soft hand loosely tucks ‘round his fat cock, teasingly squeezes him down at the base. Meanly drawing out more pearly globs of his dribbling pre-cum with a resounding, wet squelch!, undeniable proof of his shared arousal at the newfound situation he’s unfortunately finding himself in.

‘Unfortunately’— one says, funny that you see right through that by the mocking nature of your barking laughter, sharply ringing within his ears.

“My, who’s the exact fucking pervert here, Whit? Y’seem pretty hard to me. Actually, you’re dripping wet down there, y’know that?” No fucking shit. Ready to single-handily cum from a single, measly stroke of your fist snugly wrapped around the veiny girth of his quivering length— fucking hell. Head instinctively thrown back to which you soon wistfully take advantage of, ‘course you would, wouldn’t you? Lazily pressing hot, heated kisses along the sharp edges of his jawline that soon has the same bully, known to be so very resistant, stifling wanton moans, firmly clasping a palm over his gaping mouth in a heedless effort to remain discreet as possible. Slithering, pink tongue laving and tracing over the heated shell of his ear, ushered snickering coupled by bouts of utter filth being so brazenly whispered towards him. And your canines— ah, are not helping at all either. Grazing the bobbing curve of his throat, delicately sucking a bruising mark upon the tanned skin to pridefully admire over later. “Nnh— no, fu— ah, uuckk! N-Not there, you bastard!!”

“Not here? What’s the matter, Ney-Ney? Can’t fucking speak properly when your pretty, pink cock is being stroked off like this?” Would’ve scornfully refuted you, barked out the meanest curses that would’ve had an elderly woman shockingly clutch her pearls if given the chance, but stealing a discreet glance down to humiliatingly witness how sticky and wet his tip has gotten, messily stained your palm in a string of creamy, white pre is not.. Possessing way too much pride to do so. “Y’see, you like this— hah, fuck— you like it when I actually take what I fucking want from you and ruin you down to this cute, little, slutty mess, yeah?”

“I-It’s not like that—“ Uncharacteristically meek protest on his part. Cat got his tongue, ‘s that it?

“No? Pretty boy. Use your words, will you?” Oh, fuuuuckkin’ god. Seeing sheer darkness as his eyes reflexively roll backwards to his skull from casually being called ‘pretty’ by your lulling voice.

Have any idea the way your hushed words dizzyingly affects his fuzzy brain? Renders him alarmingly stiff like a stoned statue, wobbling knees surely bound to buckle beneath the weight of your relentless taunting, all the while being boldly jerked off in broad, fucking daylight — hidden amongst the rustling bushes of the park, mind you — still, very much in an open space where one can be so easily seen by oncoming passerbys. And even then, the absolute control you possess over him, sneakily snaking your arm ‘round his middle, relishing in the little, heated gasps hurriedly rushed out of this dirty, fucking perverted bitch of a blonde’s mouth is too way goddamn much for him to precariously withstand another tortuously long second of this shit.

Yeah, one more minute? He’s fucking busting by then.

“What’s the matter? Can’t keep up? Gon’ shoot your filthy load soon, ‘s that it?” Mild disinterest lacing your very tone with a slight hint of, what’s that..? Actual anticipation? Hah, as if he can barely discern between the mind buzzing layer of reality set upon him when coupled by your soft— so fucking warm, shit.. hand relentlessly fisting him dry, milking every thick droplet steadily trickling forth. Uncaring for the accumulated mess below you both as his hips instinctually roll forward against the rewarding palm of your curled fist, sickeningly jolts at a noticeably harsh press of your padded thumb atop his oozing tip. “Well, then.. Go ahead, I’m not stopping you, am I?”

“Cmon, pretty. Paint my hand all sticky and nice for me, yeah?”

Predictably so, as the uttered rumours had notably confirmed— how downright desperate Whitney’s always apparently been for you to the damn point that he’s automatically cumming on command like a dog patiently withholding for its owner’s words and oh, was it fucking worth the extensive wait. Stifled whimper weakly slipping out, fingers immediately latching onto the comforting feel of your forearm lazily slung around his quivering figure for proper support. No use in making a fool out of himself by clumsily buckling down to his slacked knees— not that he hasn’t already, though too late to be thinking about it twice, huh? Thick, sticky strings of his hot seed directly shot out of his pulsing cock and into the air to, as expected, pervertedly dirty your open hand in a mess of his load which is kinda.. hot, no? Fuckin’ get ahold of yourself, shit! Minus the rest having uncontrollably splattered downwards onto the ground, pitifully traced in a puddled mess of droplets.

And somehow, the barely discernible hint of a relieved breath tumbling from between his parted lips. The natural conclusion that this is it, oncoming closure bound to take its place yet still— still, damn it; Always managed to keep the dirtied blonde on the edge of his toes, haven’t you?

So, truly, it shouldn’t have came off as an unexpected shock then, how you so brazenly mumble a stuttered curse beneath your puffed sighs at the melting sight. “Ah, fuck.” Swiftly freeing your fat— well, admittedly hefty cock for his following eyes to shamelessly gawk at in turn because, y’know.. fuck, he won’t outright voice it, but the sinful glimmer in his wide gaze says it all. Innate itch, unadulterated need— god, to merely sling down to his knees, sloppily drool all over your tasty-looking cock and coat it all shiny and wet with his spit. Although, too busy admiring the rare glimpse of your contorted features strained with pure, unrestrained concentration to bother paying much attention to the repeated, distinct fapping! noises of your cock being so hurriedly stroked raw, as if in a hurry, almost.

Furrowed brows deepening, lashes fluttering in their wake as your rosy lips that he’s known time and time again to be nonchalantly formed into a grin— now, so prettily stained crimson by the harsh press of your teeth against your puffy, bottom lip. “Don’t— ugh, fucking look at me like that.” You audibly groan out in the mix of a huffed chuckle. Slightest flush delicately dusting your cheeks a pink hue, so damn pretty too. “Hah, it makes things kinda awkward, y’know?” Ah, takes less than a stretched minute for his brain to acutely process what’s hit him before given the proper chance.

Something hot— and sticky too, actually it’s pretty evident what it should’ve been if he wasn’t so goddamn brain dead within this bleary moment. Splattering amongst the already present mess you’ve both collectively made of yourself, thick ropes of sweet cum landing right upon his rumpled uniform you’ve taken a gleeful joy of permanently ruining. Judging by the cackling laughter soon drawing forth outta ya thanks to the sheer, dizzying sight of the cum-stained mess he’s forced to pitifully endure for the time being.

Look what you’ve done, god— even if you manage to be one step ahead of him, as always, in such a predicament as the delinquent merely receives a thrown jacket straight in the face. “Sorry for ruining your nice shirt of yours, I couldn’t really help myself when you looked so dumb like that. Take it as an apology, alright?” Exhaling out shakily in the chilling air suddenly alarmingly cold without your warm weight shifted against his own, too deliriously fucked out of his mind to muster up a rightful remark to your cheaply made one. Dumb, little ol’ puppy is what he is to you, no?

And perhaps then, it’s the idiotic absurdity of your actions, swiftly turning away like the encounter itself hadn’t even taken place right at this very spot. Footsteps progressively fading amongst the rhythmic crunches of fallen leaves fluttering down from the withering trees, gaze tentatively flicking downwards to where your stupidly soft, discarded jacket rests within his arms. Meaningless gesture is what it should’ve been notably perceived as, though that doesn’t really help the gradual thump! of his swaying heart noisily beating against his chest nonetheless.

That’s not— oh.

Oh.

“..Fuck.”

Yeah, being wholly swallowed by the ground beneath his feet doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?

[ilycosy]

❝ YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x reader (no parent mentioned)

summary — being the partner of luke castellan was a blessing and a curse, mostly a blessing— you had the best swordsman at camp and he was extremely loyal. a blessing really, but everyone always wanted him too. sometimes you forget that he could feel insecure too.

warnings : insecurities (relationship + scar) , petnames (baby, sweetheart, love) , hurt/comfort , luke is standoffish and implied to be mentally ill but reader loves him anyways , mentions of other ppl flirting w luke !!

aﾉn — i want to smother this man in the biggest kisses ever ... he didn't deserve anything that happened to him & he's innocent !!!! it's never said who readers parent is but they don't reside in hermes cabin :) ,,, also i made the scar worse !!!! i wish it was bigger & more gnarly everyday . enjoy !!!!

you felt burned by the sun everytime he was around, even with his stoic nature and go with the flow personality— he always seemed to burn so bright when you're around. his palms melted you everytime he pulled you into a kiss, his lips hot and slick with spit from his chewing.

his constant even tone (he'll deny when the sass slips through) never bothered you, in fact you quite enjoyed it whenever he spoke. his raspy voice telling you briefly about his day, or talking about a race him and chris had that day, even when he told you not to worry about him.

other people sure seemed to enjoy him too, boys and girls gathered around him like a moth to a flame. his glow always too bright for others not to be drawn, you always saw it— the way girls would giggle and fawn over him, whenever boys lingered around him during activities.

you never told him how it bothered you, because it wasn't really his fault— he was just too perfect.

which is why it shocked you when you began noticing the way he liked keeping the helmet on even after capture the flag, hiding his face until it was deemed inappropriate. the way he favored resting his scarred side in your neck compared to his other, even though he complained of neck pains the day before.

you can't recall when he began doing these little habits, maybe ever since he got the scar, maybe when a younger camper said it made him look scary. you didn't know, but you knew that it wasn't good for him— the way he allowed himself to ache just to hide it.

luke is a great boyfriend, he recognizes when people want something more from him— he's not afraid to distance himself from others when he notices the flirting. it doesn't make him feel good to have that spotlight when you were so much better than him, in every sense of the word.

he never knew how to tell you that he knew. how he knew that the obnoxious flirting hurt you, or how you always backed away when his friends came over.

he would always come in the morning to pick you up from your cabin, hoping that his searing kisses and warm arms could show you that he's yours— even with a disgusting face.

the scar taking up the side of his face made him curl away in disgust whenever he saw it, he completely avoided bathroom mirrors because of it. he hid away from your soft eyes at any chance he could, fearing that you'd realize just how scary it is to date something like him.

the praises eased in slowly, but surely, he almost felt winded the first time he heard it ("baby get your pretty face over here!" you had said, trying to wave him over to your table. he felt lightheaded and nauseous when he walked over.) he didn't know how to handle it.

whenever he tried to ask why you began getting so verbally affectionate, he was waved off with a small wave and shrug. "can't i compliment my boyfriend?" you had asked him with a teasing tone, he hid away under your shirt the rest of the night while he got teased.

you knew that he was confused, but you didn't really care to explain— he'd just shut down and ignore the problem if you did. and you liked complimenting him, especially when he gets flustered like he does.

calling him pretty made his cheeks go red, and he always seemed more spacey after. calling him handsome always got him smiling and hiding his face. cute? he was looking away and blushing. adorable? he scoffed and smiled. gorgeous, he rolled his eyes and flicked you with red ears.

you hadn't called him beautiful yet, waiting for the perfect moment— you'd think you were planning on proposing with how calculated you were with this.

luke hadn't been sleeping well for a while, mumbling in his sleep about nonsense you couldn't understand. stress had clearly taken its toll, and he's chewing again— his lips raw and almost always bloody from his teeth snagging at the skin.

you snuck into hermes' cabin during the night, hoping that he would be up to sneaking out or even finally getting a full night's rest. your boots made him shoot up, sweaty and eyes wide before he realizes its you.

"what're you doing here, love?" he asks in a hushed tone, not yet a whisper but close. you move closer, gently lacing your hand together with his sweaty one. "wanna sneak out?"

the question was whispered, barely audible even. but it made him stand up all the same, sweatpants and cream colored long-sleeved shirt bunched up at the arms, making him look ethereal.

"are you that needy, sweetheart?" he asks as a joke when you've successfully escaped the cabin without waking people. his eyebrows wiggling slightly, his usual stoic facade melting off him like you were a candle and he was wax.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you told him no. tugging him along the camp grounds until you found the picnic blanket, the basket of food right next to it all neatly set up— it took you a whole week to convince people to help you find this stuff, a demeter kid had to weave the basket.

"ta-da!" you said, doing jazz hands as you showed him the comfortable blanket. he didn't say anything, only smiling wide as he laid down on it— he patiently waited for you to get the food out, not feeling any sort of rush as he allowed himself to relax.

you hand fed him strawberries, flicking his nose every time he tried to stick your fingers in his mouth. you admired him in the moonlight, he always looked the best at night. his radiating self was enough light for you anyways.

your fingertips gently brushed his face while he was eating, chewing a piece of cake when he felt them. your fingers making their way to his big scar, tracing the jagged edges of it along with the smooth, raised middle.

"what're you doing?" he says, his voice tight in his throat as he tried to ignore the building pit of fear in his stomach.

you hummed, caressing his face as you looked at him. his eyes focused on your nose to avoid eye contact, "you're beautiful," you whisper.

"extremely beautiful." and his face goes red, his eyes watery as his chest rises up and down in deep breaths. his hands are shaky and pulling you closer, desperate for you and your touch.

it makes you really wonder, how could he ever feel insecure when you're convinced he could be cursed by aphrodite herself, and you'd still see his face when camp visits the gods?

[pcketknves]

[ partnership ] ; a continuation from here for @pennedbymoxiee .

never the question on whether or not lara could handle herself ; ellie had seen it all with her own two eyes not yet viciously taken from her by the hands of anyone bold enough to try . in all of her time trying to survive , she'd found the living more inhumane than the infected . executions , torture methods she'd only seen in the various films she'd watched with joel — humans were the monsters . yet even still with the confidence did ellie find herself wondering if her permission would backfire one day .

one day wondering if she'd lose lara the way she lost him . wondering if she'd be just as helpless to stop it as that day a year or so ago .

" if at any point you wanna turn back around , " she'd murmur , her voice clear despite . anxiously would her hands fidget with one another , tracing the paths of old scars and new scabs . " i won't blame you , but i have to see this through to the end . "

wasn't long before they'd be gone on foot ; it'd be some odd few days before they could be remotely close to abby's last known whereabout . for so long had ellie been tracking the woman like some sort of bloodhound , noting every last location and the precise pathing . from the surface and the outside looking in was it a clear obsession — the need to rid herself the guilt of being helpless to save joel . if she could right that very wrong and solely live with the thought she'd murdered dozens to make it happen , she could live with that .

" i should've done it then , " she'd break the vocal silence , listening to the odd crunch of gravel and the shift of tall grass against her legs and beneath her feet . " i had the chance to beat the shit out of her . . . wanted to make her pay . don't know why i stopped — guess i thought doing it wouldn't have brought him back . she was scrawny as shit , too . fuckers that caught her really did a number on her . but it didn't feel right — i wanted her to fight back . i got nothing out of beating a kicked animal . "

maybe it was a bit much , but if ellie were anything , it was honest .

[pomefioredove]

omomg i love ur writing!! <33

if this works can i request 3rd years + ruggie epel and silver with a GN reader thats very elegant, like duchess from the aristocats?

if possible i’d like reader to not be yuu 🎀

like the reader is the oldest sibling and has a very gentle and elegant aura, making then very loveable by everyone? reader is very smart, attractive, and especially sweet and gentle.

everyone would first assume that theyre spoiled bc theyre an aristocrat but they shock everyone w their personality

I have been writing nothing but fics for months now,, so I'm taking a break by going through the headcanon requests that were sent when I wasn't writing

summary: elegant reader type of post: headcanons characters: third years + ruggie, epel, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

Trey is your best friend, your platonic soulmate. he's... wary, at first, not really knowing what to expect from you; but he's also the first to warm up. as the designated Heartslabyul mediator and an eldest sibling himself, you two have a lot to bond over. maybe your refined and elegant tastes influence his baking, even; he definitely spoils you

oddly enough, social butterfly Cater has a hard time approaching you. not because you're popular, not because you're an aristocrat, just because you're so... genuine. it's uncommon for a student of Night Raven to be anything even remotely close to nice or sweet, and it throws him off

but he warms up to you eventually; expect to be all over his Magicam within a few months

...he may or may not still be trying to figure out what you're hiding, though

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona has had enough of the nobility to last him a lifetime. expect an eye-roll or a sharp rebuff any time you try to get close, he's never in the mood to deal with "spoiled, silver-spoon sucking little kids" (in his own words). persistence is key, here; much like a housecat, it takes him a long time to get comfortable with new people

now, Ruggie will never miss a chance to take advantage of your kindness. this doesn't mean that he doesn't like you, he's just a man of opportunity! plus, you're an aristocrat; hence, money! eventually, though, he starts feeling kinda bad for you, and he tries to toughen you up a little so you don't get swindled. results are varied

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

oh, Rook is absolutely smitten with you. your elegance, your gentleness, you are the absolute picture of beauty to him!

he's been keeping a close eye on you since orientation, both to ensure your safety, and just because he likes looking at you. everything you do is so delicate, he would put you on a shelf if he could

...not unlike Leona, Epel avoids you. the very last thing he needs is another pampered, elegant noble breathing down his neck, and... being seen with you would hurt his image

after all, he's already struggling to be taken seriously, so befriending the goody-two-shoes lovable sweetheart of NRC is completely out of the question

it takes him some time, but if you let him feel like he's protecting you (somehow), he'll stick to you like glue

you are just like Neige and Vil dislikes you for it. he knows it's unfair, but he can't force himself to get along with someone that reminds him so much of his worst enemy. so perfect, so sweet, pretty, and loved by everyone...

he's not an animal, though; he's civil when you cross paths. he even lets Rook gush about you. just don't expect him to be as easy to befriend as the others

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is not a fan.

first of all, you're way out of his league.

second of all... no, actually, that's it.

he knows from the start that someone so lovable and popular wouldn't be caught dead with someone like him, and he leaves it at that. unfortunately for him, you're also the curious type, and are drawn to him like a moth to a flame. your patience has no end, and eventually, you wear him down. now he can speak to you in full sentences!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Silver likes you, perhaps more than anyone else, though he doesn't really show it. he's not so great at expressing himself in words, but you can be sure he'll be there if you need something. he's nothing if not loyal, after all

you are so nice to Malleus and he likes it so much :) he's not used to anyone being so gentle with him, and it's a feeling he could easily get addicted to

he maaaay be a little overprotective and wary about your interactions with the other students, but he trusts you, too. just as long as you stay your sweet and endearing self, he's happy

Lilia thinks you're just great. it's not easy staying so kind in a place like this, but he always sees you with a smile on your face and a spring in your step... albeit, a more dignified and elegant one