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writingbluerose · 16 hours ago

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one more draconic feature | malleus draconia x reader

summary : you've invited Malleus to hang around by your dorm to enjoy each other's companies. Who would've known it ended with you exploring something else instead

warnings : SUGGESTIVE!! like some kissing shit but it's on another level lol ( as well as I can write it lol, I... can't write these stuff too well, but practice makes perfect ^^ )

a / n : this one is based on another comic I saw and also it could be read as another version to this drabble I made some time ago! Enjoy :3

The sun was already up and proud in the sky, giving the birds a chance to sing merrily from their place on top of the branches outside. It was around the end of February, the events at VDC were still a bit fresh but you had resumed your everyday life as always.

Today though, it was a particularly nice and peaceful day. In the now quiet Ramshackle dorm lounge ( after Grim has decided to go into your room to take a "very well deserved nap" ) a figure was sitting relaxed, in their element, on one of the old couches. And that figure was none other than Malleus Draconia. He had been invited by you to spend time together as the VDC had taken most of your time, becoming busier and busier by the day. And come on now, who was he to deny such a request from his beloved? Besides, he's told you many times, the books you've found sitting all dusty and forgotten in this dorm were some of the best pieces of literature he's ever read in his stay at this school, so for him it was a double win.

After some time of waiting, Malleus' ears picked up the faintest sound of footsteps coming in his direction, and then- “Hey there Hornton!” At the sound of your voice, Malleus chuckled and closed his book with a thud “Even now still calling me by the same endearing nickname. You're one of a kind my dear” You gave him a huffed laugh before coming to rest next to him “I didn't interrupt your reading again did I?” Your eyes met his in a quick exchange before he slowly shook his head in reassurance, “No of course not, don't worry about it. I must admit that even I sometimes am not aware of my surroundings, especially when I'm doing something I really am engrossed in” His hand rested on your head before giving you a pat and returning to his book once again. Both of you sat there in silence and after what seemed like an eternity Malleus had noticed you started fidgeting with your fingers, your leg slowly bouncing. A habit of yours he had picked up in the early days you've met, indicating that you were either nervous about something or itching to do something you were not supposed to. The fae's eyes followed your movements a little more before asking : “What is it you're itching to do hm? Are you looking to touch my horns again?” If you could look past the book, you'd be able to see his big smirk hidden behind the hard cover. “No! No! It's not that it's just...mmh — your eyes trailed to the floor, your leg not stopping its bouncing — I was just thinking about your horns. You told me long ago that your horns are a big part of who you are, it kinda represents your family right?” “Indeed so. Our horns are also a very sensible spot, it is the source of our magic, a vital point. Should they break... — his eyes narrowed — well you wouldn't want to know what would happen would you now?” You shook your head at his words before staring at him for a little while “You have other features right? As in, other features akin to a dragon's... I mean you have the eyes, the tail, I wonder if your tongue also looks like one...— ah but nevermind me!” Your mumbling abruptly came to an end after taking a look at Malleus and his shocked expression. What went through that little adorable head of yours hm? Malleus thought. “Well anyway! You know that does remind me of that one story I listened to one of Professor's Trein class...” Quickly loosing yourself in your explanations you failed to notice how Malleus was still looking at you with now a more mischievous expression, his smirk growing into a grin behind his book.

Closing it, not too hard so you wouldn't get startled, his arm slowly started to move towards your chin to grab it, which you failed to notice, still speaking, face red as beet. “Are you truly that curious?” His fingers grabbed your chin ( a bit too hard you would've liked to say ) and forcefully turned your face to his for you to be met with a sight that many people would consider the moment they're about to go to the after life ;

You heard a low growl and an almost mute hissss... as Malleus' mouth opened, revealing his white, long and sharp fangs as his tongue slithered out, long, forked at the tip and flickering through the air, his drool sticking to it and coming down his chin, eyes gleaming down at you like a snake who just caught a delicious prey. You gulped down before leaving a tiny shriek, your form trembling in his hold.

He closed his mouth, tongue licking his lips as his hand came to clean off the drool on his chin. The prince smiled down at you, “Well, did I satisfy your curiosity now, my love?” The tone in his voice left you knowing that he wanted to do much more, but after all, a predator usually waits for its prey's most vulnerable moment. “I-I uhh...uhmmm” He let out a loud snort “So? Is this enough to intimidate you? I'd be hard to believe after all these overblots you've faced” That damn teasing bastard. You signed, stopped, and inhaled again before saying : “Y-you looked... pretty... neat” Voice cracking, not being able to get his expression out of your mind, you refused to look your boyfriend in the eye.

One, two minutes passed before Malleus let out a thunderous laugh, amused and enjoying your reactions to the fullest. “My and here I thought I had frightened you! I must admit, teasing you has become one of my favorite activities to do!” You let out a loud 'HAH!' as if offended, though you both knew there was no venom behind the gesture“You didn't think I was done, do you?” “Wh-h-hey! Malleus!!” The fae prince's hands came to grab your waist pulling you into his lap, his eyes and movements giving an open space to a, new, primal feeling. His fingers found your shirt, unbuttoning it so he'd be given a clear view to your shoulders ; A moment passed before you felt his tongue slowly licking from the shoulder and stopping right under your chin. And he bit down, hard, making you let out a high pitched moan in pleasure. His mouth didn't leave your shoulder yet, and when he felt the first drop of blood coming out, his pupils dilated as he started sucking and licking until he left a deep mark “I haven't even done half the things I wish to do” So he said

His lips quickly found yours, kissing rougher this time, forked tongue licking your lips asking for entrance. You hadn't dared to tease him or refuse his request, you know better than to do so at this moment. So when you parted his lips welcoming him in your warmth, Malleus let out a groan making you moan into the kiss in return. Grabbing him by his shoulders to steady yourself, his forked tongue hadn't missed a spot. It was so long and fuck did it feel so good it hasn't even been a full minute until you felt drool dropping down at the corners of your mouth.

Without realizing it, your hands went upper and upper until they found the base of his horns. You grabbed at it so hard that Malleus down right growled. So deep it could've come down as a threat for others, but when his hands grabbed your wrists keeping them in place for a split second, before going down to grip your waist, you understood his message : 'Don't you dare take your hands off' so you didn't. In fact, you gripped harder, fingers rising once again on the form of his horns, that's when Malleus parted his mouth and moaned, husky and low.

His fingers went lower and lower on your tights, he didn't continue to kiss you right away, instead he came closer, panting in each other's mouths, needy and desperate for more. “Mal... we can't, we can't do this...” Your hands came down to hold his face and the fae closed his eyes at the contact, “Beloved, you cannot lie and tell me you don't wish for this as much as I do. Or do you truly not?” Avoiding his gaze, you inhaled a sharp breath. Of course you wanted to. “I- I do Malleus, fuck, of course I do” “Then please allow me” He lifted you up and positioned you on your back on the couch undoing the buttons of your shirt just a bit more, so he could get a peak at your chest.

He kissed you on your lips, then traveled down to your neck and then kissed slowly and softly down to your chest, fingers gripping and pressing at your skin, leaving more tiny love bites in his woke. His ears picked up the faintest of whimpers and tiny moans. Smirking he continued to press kisses down to your chest, moaning at the same time with you when your hands came to rest on his horns again. His eyes found yours, pupils dilated and face flushed, and for the first time you had spotted a new glint to them. One that only presented a raw feeling of lust and need. When he spoke, his voice sounded more exciting then he intended to let on : “I hope you're ready my love, for I won't hold back in the slightest”

Oh goodness, you were in it for now that's for sure

#this is the first time when i went this deep with my writing #you can tell I don't have experience on this can't you #yep...yeah you can #haha but ENJOY IT ANYWAY GUYS!!#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus x reader

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lokishha · 3 days ago

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So uh I wrote something. Check it out.

TW: Death, hatred, strong language.

Till death do us part

"Help!"

I hated him. I hated him with every fibre of my being. Yet here I was, screaming at the top of my lungs. I didn't mean it, but I had to make it sound real.

"Please someone help!" Another echo of my voice rang through the forest. It was supposed to be a simple weekend hike with my dad, but it soon turned into a nightmare. Or more like, a dream come true.

He was quite young to be a father when I was born, 20ish, but he tried his best to be a good father. Until the first hit came, a tight smack, and my face was all red. It was my fifth birthday. He immediately apologised, and took me out for ice cream. "I'm sorry, honey." But it didn't stop there. Today marked 15 years of this abuse, and only my dad knew how much I hated ice cream and that nickname.

It was summer. We were standing on a cliff, it was beautiful. For a second, the thought of murder almost left my mind. But I had to finish the job. The wind picked up speed just as I pushed him. And I thought he was gone for good. No one would ever find out that I killed my own father.

Cut to 5 years later, I met someone at a bar. A handsome man, almost twice my age. But come on, I was all for daddy issues. We started talking and soon I found myself falling for him. He was the complete opposite of my dad in every way. It was just that, his eyes were familiar. Every time I looked into his eyes I felt like a little girl. But I knew he would keep me safe.

Two years passed in a flash, and I found myself standing at the altar, about to marry the love of my life. We exchanged our chits, which almost felt like cheating as a kid in an exam. I knew what I had written. My biggest secret, my biggest sin. I wanted to know his. A man so kind, so generous, so loving. What could he possibly hide? Compared to him I was a monster.

He opened the little piece of paper that would decide whether or not he'd continue to love me like he always has. He read it and simply smiled and tossed it into the fire, just how he tossed away all my flaws and accepted me for who I am.

It was my turn now. I opened the little piece of paper with a smile. After all, how bad could it-

"I'm sorry, honey. 🍦"

Now I know where else I'd seen those eyes.

On your wedding day, you and your partner exchange pieces of paper containing each other’s biggest secret. You freeze for a moment after reading theirs, but in the end, cast it into the fire to be consumed by the flames along with theirs. ‘Til death do us part.’

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furioussouls · 2 days ago

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Lovesick! Vi

[chubby reader]

Warnings: MINORS DNI;nsfw, fluff, angst (alcohol , crying),canon divergence (Noxus doesnt invade but Vi's life is still shit), chubby afab! reader, unhealthy dynamics (?), extreme touch starved Vi

Disclaimer: Vi is a character from the show "Arcane" made by Riot Games and Fortiche Productions. The Characters, lore references and world building belong solely to the creators.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚

• lovesick!Vi, who meets you when her life has gone to shit. She meets you after one of her fights in the pit. You were working as a bartender near the pitfighting arena. Vi's pink- red hair was impossible to miss, even stained with the black dye she messily applied to her hair. You have seen her multiple times before in the last few days, so you stare at her from top to bottom; her beautiful hair, her gorgeous face, which was scrunched up with a general disdain for life, her muscular tattooed biceps and her bandaged hands. You sighed and walked over to where she was sitting and sat her glass down in front of her. Her eyes snapped up at you and she looked at you with an annoyed expression.

"Water. On the house. It even has expensive ice in it, so enjoy our lavish service.", you said sarcastically and grinned at her. Her expression remained, but she scanned you from top to bottom and didn't retort anything back, which is a win in your book. Her eyes fixated on your torso and she picked the glass up and chugged it all down; her gaze remaining on your body. You rolled your eyes and turned away- you were round. Very much so. Curves and squishy softness as far as one could see. Very different from her muscular body. You wiped the counters and poured drinks for everbody else, when Vi spoke up: "I did not ask you for the damn ice nor for the water.", her voice was melodic and husky. You turned around to face her and looked at her expression; she tried to appear tough, but you could see through the facade.

"You did not have to. I wanted to give you the iced water, so I did. Sometimes, that's all there is to it." The side of Vi's lip curled down and she squinted her beautiful, blue eyes.

"Am I supposed to throw myself at your feet now?", she hissed out.

You raised an eyebrow at her and rubbed your hands over your plush biceps. "No. You're supposed to drink it and shut the fuck up. If I had known you would've made such a big deal of it, I would've done my one good deed for the day with somebody else, Vi."

"How the fuck do you know my name?", she barked out.

You looked at her incredulously an pointed under your eye "Your fucking tattoo with your name on it? If you're that hungover, go home."

Vi's cheeks blushed a perfect red and she looked down. You poured two glasses of water and sat one down in front of one of your other regulars and Vi. "Drink it. This time without a fuss. Come back once you've slept more than three hours." You said to Vi and pointed to her eyebags. You turned around and mixed some drinks for the rest of your customers. You didn't see Vi again that night.

•lovesick!Vi who came back to you a few days later. It was a very busy night when she came and you looked at her eyebags, which have improved since the last time she was here. You smiled at her and asked her in your perfect customer service voice "Good evening, ma'am. What can I get you?"

Vi scrunched her nose in disgust and shook her head. A laugh bubbled out of you and her expression relaxed- it was a tiny bit, but you saw it anyway. "Let's stick to our first names", she said quietly and you nodded and introduced yourself with your first name and hold out your hand.

Vi gripped it gently and you sighed; her hand was scarred, warm and calloused, a big contrast to your chubby and soft fingers, Her eyes remained on your hands and her thumb made move to gently caress your hand but she stopped her thumb before it could get too far.

Vi cleared her throat and let go off your hand "I want a beer, please." You nodded and began working.

•lovesick!Vi and you got into a comfortable rhythm of seeing each other every other day. You both didnt talk that much but you were in each others presence, only sometimes exchanging words with each other and on her bad days, you silently poured Vi a drink after she won her fights. This rhythm stretched a few weeks- almost up to a month when the two of you got closer.

Your shift ended and you walked out of the bar when you saw Vi leaning against a wall. Her hair grew past her shoulder on one side, the other still completely short. The black hair dye has almost completely washed out but there's still traces of it near her scalp. She mustered you from top to bottom and walked towards you. She held out her hand wordlessly and you rolled your eyes and handed her your bag. You both walked next to each other silently til you spoke up hesitantly.

"Vi?"

"What's up?", she asked and gently bumped against your soft side.

"You don't have to answer my question, alright? If I'm too nosy you can just tell me to shut the fuck up, no hard feelings."

Vi's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she nodded.

"Why do you fight? You know, the pitfighting. Not judging you at all, it's a job just like every other job. But..You know. If you need a safe job, I can put in a good word with my boss for you. You could start as a janitor. Not the most glamorous job, but it's an honorable one and the pay is good and stable.", you rambled nervously.

Vi silently looked at the ground for a few seconds and then smiled. "It's the only thing I'm good at. The only thing I was ever useful for."

"I don't think that's the truth.", you said and Vi looked at you in annoyance. "We hang out a little and you think you know my entire life story, sweet thing?", she asked with a scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows.

You raised an eyebrow "Sweet thing? And, no. I hang out with you and notice that you're punishing yourself for something. Everyone with an inkling of sense would notice it. I don't know what it is, but you need to stop. You can't shoulder the blame for everything in the world."

Vi's jaw dropped and her nostrils flared. The side of her mouth tugged downwards again, and before she could retort with her angry jabs, you gently cupped her cheek. Her blue eyes widened, her anger forgotten.

"It's alright. Be mad at me if that helps you feel better, but it doesn't change what I said. You deserve better than how you yourself and others have treated you. Give yourself grace. None of us have acted as well as we should have." You gave her face a gentle squeeze and for Vi's sake, you ignored the tears that were forming in her eyes. You bent down and took your bag, which she was tightly gripping underneath her clenched hands.

You turned around and walked a few steps forward when you heard a loud sob. You spun around and saw Vi's pretty face was scrunched up in sorrow, big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs wreaked through her like a child. You dropped your bag and walked back to her and wrapped your soft warms around her. She cried into your shoulder and rubbed her face into your neck. Every second she seemed to get worse and then she dropped to her knees with you in her arms. You gently scratched at her scalp with your nails and she shuddered. You breathed in the comforting scent of Vi; mint and raspberry soap, as she continued to cry her little heart out.

You don't know how much time passed when Vi was calm enough to get up again. You rose first and she stayed on her knees and looked up at you with hooded eyes. You cupped her face again and she leaned into your soft palm like a puppy. Her eyes closed. You gently helped her stand up and interlinked arms with her.

"I'm taking you to my place tonight. You shouldn't be alone", Vi sniffed and nodded. You interlaced your fingers with her bigger ones and she looked down at your joined hands. "Sorry.", you said and made move to pull your hand away and Vi whimpered and tightened her grip. You nodded and tightened your own grip as well and made move to pick up your bag, but Vi had already bent down and picked it up with her other hand.

Once you both reached your small apartment, Vi looked at you hesitantly. You gave her some of your clothes, which she seemed to snuggle into and you laid her down into your cramped bed. Both of you laid next to each other and had your hands interlaced again. Vi and you both faced each other and you gently caressed your hand through Vi's hair and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Sweet thing. I call you that, because you're the sweetest thing the undercity has to offer", her hand tenderly kneaded your squishy hip "you're soft. The softest thing I've ever seen. More than I deserve." Vi's lip wobbled and you hugged her face into your chest. She cried into your chest again and wrapped her muscular arms around you, clinging to you like a lifeline.

This was the day that Vi opened up about her entire past to you, crying in your soft arms. Surrounded by your warmth.

•lovesick!Vi stuck to you like glue after that night. She sat down in front of you while you worked your shift and the bar. Her chin was resting on her hands and she gazed up at you as if you hung the stars. Her big, blue puppy eyes were full love and she never let you out of sight.

You smiled at her and the sides of her mouth tugged upward, when you leaned over and gently booped her nose. Her eyes closed happily and she held onto your hand before you pulled it away completely. She kissed each individual finger and rubbed her cheek against it.

"Want some water?", you asked her and gently squished her cheeks together, her heart shape lips forming almost a perfect heart. She nodded and you chuckled and rolled your eyes.

•lovesick!Vi's first time kissing you was on your couch after another one of her pitfights, you put some antiseptic on her bloody knuckles and bandaged her wounds. You bit your lip and sighed in anger. Vi's gaze was turned down to her shoes, but then she asked: "Are you mad at me?"

You looked at her and considered her question. "Yes", you said honestly. "I'm not expecting you to change, Vi. Thats unrealistic and also stupid, but yes. I am mad at you for continuing to put yourself in that damn pit just to get beat up over and over again."

Vi nodded, she understood you, but was also very thankful that you understood that she can't just give her only source of income up. "We have to consider other options, though. Vi, I mean it. Maybe I can take care of us both while you look at empty buildings in our neighbourhood. There are so many parents who want their kids to be able to fight. Maybe you could teach them and earn money with it." You thought outloud when you suddenly heard a snicker.

"You gonna be my provider while I chase my dreams, sweet thing? You wanna take care of me, hm?" Vi grinned and leaned forward. She gently squished your cheeks amd kissed your forehead. You rolled your eyes when suddenly you felt Vi's soft, heart-shaped lips on your own. You gasped into her mouth and Vi gently licked against your top lip. Her hands wrapped tightly around your hips and she hoisted you up on her lap. Her hand was buried in the back of your head and she pulled you even closer as both of your tongues softly explored the other ones mouth.

•lovesick!Vi who was pussydrunk and she hasn't even started eating your pussy yet. She kissed along your thick thighs and bit down on the inner part of it. You moaned and clenched your thigh around Vi. She moaned sweetly and buried her nose in your clothed pussy and inhaled deeply. "My sweet thing", she whispered, her voice as sweet as honey and sex. Vi pulled down your panties with her teeth and bundled them up in her hand. She couln't take it anymore after she pulled your panties up to her nose and took a deep breath. She shuddered and removed your panties from her face and exchanged it with the real thing; she buried her face in your fat pussy. You moaned loudly when Vi's perfect tongue flicked against your clit and you entangled your fingers in her hair and pulled her closer. Vi's sweet moans echoed through the room and you whined and rubbed your pussy along her face.

"Yes, baby. Use my face like a sex toy, that's what I'm here for, c'mon sweet thing. Give it to me." she groaned out and looked up at you through hooded eyes, her musculuar biceps flexed as she held her body up.

You began thrusting against Vi's face at record speed. Were you a little less horny right now, you'd be afraid of breaking Vi's perfect bumpy nose, but right now, you couldn't care less.

Loud slurps and loud cries rang throughout the room, when Vi's pretty lips wrapped your puffy clit and she sucked heavily, your body shook and you cried loudly as you reached your orgasm. Vi's soft kitten licks calmed your body down as embarassment heated your face. Vi smiled and cooed "What's got you so embarassed?", she grinned and laid down next to you. You hid your face in her chest and she laughed and smoothed her hand over your back.

You looked up at her happy face and gently laid on top of her. She followed your gaze as you gently pulled her pants down. You looked at her pussy and spread her pussy lips to reveal your sopping wet present.

"My goodness, Vi. Seems like someone liked my pussy more than expected,huh?"; you grinned at her and Vi's face heated up in embarassment and she whined. "Don't be mad, baby. I'll give you whatever you want." Your fingers slid easily into her pretty hole and she sighed happily. She didn't need much more to cum. Just a few of your pretty fingers inside of her and your pretty mouth working with her clit- and you were very good at following orders, especially the orders of your pretty girlfriend. You pumped your fingers gently in and out of her and rubbed circles along her engorged clit with your thumb. You leaned forward and sucked it and picked up the speed at which you were fucking her with. It didn't take long for her to cum and she squirmed and bucked as she rode the wave of her orgasm. You both laid next to each other and Vi cuddled into you as her strong hands gently massaged your boobs.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Vi".

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@blackdykegirlblogger thank you for helping me out <3

#fat reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n

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killishin · 1 day ago

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— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 02.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, blood.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: right now i wanna make this as sweet and lighthearted as possible, but i have a soft side for angst :) updates can become slow since my exams are coming up.

wc: 4.8k

masterlist. fic masterlist. previous. next.

dividers by @cafekitsune

"you've gotta be kidding me.." jason muttered under his breath as he looked at you, infront of the counter, desperately finding your purse because your card just declined.

normally he didn't really come to cafés, he'd much rather either sleep in or anything but places that involved people. jason wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he hates the way he towers over people. being red hood, its advantageous, helps get shit done without even lifting a finger— thats where intimidation helps. there he's proud to be built like this. but as just jason, he sees the apprehensive looks, the judgy middle aged aunties suspicious looks all because he's a big guy who looks rough around the edges. it irks him truly, his body subconsciously tries to shrink as if that would do much.

unfortunately, dick was in a mood for brotherly bonding, as he worded it, and somehow getting a coffee together is bonding. and to make matters worse (or better?) he sees you, someone he has just spent weeks scrubbing off his mind. he succeeded too! (barely), yet now its down the drain as his eyes stayed glued to you while his hand twitched— to do something. save you this time, not from danger but he has a feeling embarrassment is somehow worse for you than almost getting shot.

dick comes back from the washroom, his brows furrowed as he looks at you at the counter, "i can just sense the embarrassment—" and then he pauses because what the hell is his brother doing?

jason steps forward, passing the annoyed people glaring daggers at you and gave the staff a nod, "I'll pay for her." he said politely, handing her the card. he was really trying his goddamn best not to look at you.

you stopped and raised your head to look at your saviour but realised that maybe the kind man was actually irritated enough that he'd rather pay for you than wait. horror and embarrassment seeped in as you took back your card from the staff.

"i am so so sorry for the hold up i caused— i- i honestly don't know why this was—" you begin to hurriedly apologise and he waves a hand, giving a smile that he hopes is at least polite.

"its alright. you don't need to apologise."

"no its not. do you come here often?" you requested and his eyes widened, tip of the ears going red as his brain practically shut down.

"oh wait no—" your eyes widened in horror as you shook your head, "no i meant– to pay you back. i would like to buy you a coffee someday as a payback." you explained, your hands becoming more animated.

upon realisation, his heart slowed down and he huffed out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "no that's not necessary." but then he paused as he observed you with a small amused smile, "but i don't think you're going to back down so okay."

that pulls out a sheepish smile from you, " so uh when are you free? next weekend uh..?" you asked politely, taking your coffee and immediately step out of the line, trying your best to ignore the loud sighs.

he doesn't what he's feeling. this wasn't how it was supposed to be. he was set on forgetting you— and he almost did, yet now here he is, planning a date.

no its not a date wtf—

"jason." he replied, "and im sorry but i really don't know if I'd be free on the weekend." he can't say why of course, he could have just lied and then ghosted you. that would have been for the best... yet he's aiming for something else.

"oh." your smile fell a bit before you looked up at him again, "is it alright to exchange numbers then? you could text me when you're free." you suggested and hoped he doesn't see you as a creep.

...that's exactly what he was aiming for.

"you really don't need to pay me back but.." he huffs out a smile as he scratches the back of his head, "i guess you won't take that as an answer so gimme your phone."

you take that time to really look at the stranger, he's really tall and built like a truck. you supposed most men in that size were intimidating as fuck but this man is anything but. you would swoon over him, you are, but its practically overshadowed by the persistent embarrassment.

he looked back up at you as he handed you your phone back and you quickly averted your eyes down at your phone. "jason." you murmured before looking up at him, smiling warmly, "thanks a lot jason, i'll hope to pay you back for the coffee soon, i promise."

"no rush, its okay. I'll text you when im free for that coffee." he nodded back at you and stared at your back as you found the literal corner of the cafe. you were going to stay but you were also too tired to leave just yet— so you shrunk yourself as much as you could, opening your laptop while sipping on your coffee. you could feel the stares— even his for that matter, but it wasn't as heavy and uncomfortable as others. like the show's over guys mind your own buisness?

you pushed the feel of discomfort out of you and focused on something better— good. bluish green. his eyes were kinda green, kinda blue you couldn't really see well, not only was he very tall but you were far too embarrassed to look at that handsome gentleman's eyes. but even the slightest glimpse of it stuck to the very nerves of your brain.

and so when you steeled yourself, taking a deep breath and encouraging yourself through yet another potential embarrassment, you stole a glance at him. right as you did, he quickly averted his gaze— his whole head actually as he started walking back to his spot.

you quickly looked back too, missing the way his jaw clenched— hands twitched, clenching and unclenching.

when he came back in line to stand beside dick he rolled his eyes, biting back a groan, "don't even—"

"its alright. you don't need to apologise." dick immediately mimicked with a cheshire smile, poking Jason's side while the other glared back at him. "i was just helping. thats all."

"yeah right." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, "sure you were. cus you're such a gentleman."

"no she was holding the line. and i need to get this stupid bonding time over with— thats why i helped." jason retorted defensively causing dick to gasp, feigning offense.

"did you just call our time stupid?!"

"i am never hanging out with you."

"heartbreak!"

"i am gonna strangle you—"

"hey pa." you said softly, the dim light of your monitor illuminating the paper cup that is in your hand, the one you're staring at. it wasn't the same from that day of course, but now whenever you buy coffee from a cafe your mind can't help but go back to him.

you were doing a personal project currently, amp up your skills but mostly to have fun. animating has been something your dad introduced you to when you were just a teen, and you turned into your livelihood.

"how's everything going? are you doing okay at work?" your dad asked, your lips twitching in amusement as you could sense the concern raging in his mind.

"its good dad. im doing fine." your thumb rubs at the seam of the cup, your mind partially elsewhere, the stranger— jason, to be specific.

"you're lying aren't you?" your dad sighed, "are you struggling with expenses? i can help you know— if you're forcing yourself in that job all because of the expenses—"

"calm down dad." you laugh quietly as you gently throw the cup in the bin beside your table, and then looking at your monitor, eyeing your current project. "its honestly not that bad. anyways, how's alyssa?"

"since when do you care about her?" your father snorted, his voice suddenly quiet and hushed, didn't want the missus hearing any of that.

"i was just being nice!" you scoffed out, but he is right, you were just making small talk. "she's alright. less moody and smiles more, so definitely better." he paused, as if debating, "we went on a date yesterday."

your father was an introvert like you, or well you got it from him maybe. he's always preferred to stay indoors, your mother was the wild one. she respected dad's boundaries but with her, your dad didn't mind going out of his comfort zone.

so you're glad he's becoming the old him again, even if its with alyssa.

your eyes lit up a bit, even though alyssa's the cause, you like that little giddiness in his voice. "that's wonderful! where'd you go?"

"nothing just exploring the town. oh yes! we went into a bar and danced a bit—"

"you danced?!"

"yeah why don't you shout and tell your neighbours too while you're at it?" your dad scolded you sarcastically and you grinned while you did your work.

"..yeah we did." he sighed and you could hear the smile on his face, "i wish you were here, to see that side of her. you would like her i know."

"hm its okay. you like her, that's enough." you doubt you'd ever like her as much your dad wanted you to but he doesn't need to know that.

after talking for a while you hung up and yawned as you leaned back in your squeaking chair, causing you to grimace.

your stared mindlessly at the screen before flashes of his face came to your mind. you smiled to yourself as you thought back to that encounter, you still don't go to that cafe. it was your favourite one and it kills you that you can't go– but you still feel self conscious whenever you go there or at least try to.

you had tried finding that man on socials, thinking he'd have a hell ton of following if he does indeed post. but came up with nothing, and you just assumed he didn't use much social. you had thought about texting him but it felt rather awkward to, since its been almost a week he hasn't responded to your 'hi', assuming he forgot about it or well, ignored it.

but really, what would you even say? your confidence isn't that high either that you could maybe 'rizz' him through texts, so to your dismay, you left it at that. just a memory that shows humanity ain't dead yet.

you got up while scratching your stomach, you should be sleeping but its a weekend and unfortunately for your body, you're yet to care about your messed up sleep schedule.

entering your kitchen you open your fridge, not bothering to switch on the lights. you rummage through a bit, fridge, cabinets— before simply settling on some noodles.

you took out a saucepan, about to switch on the light—

THUMP!

your body froze, blood running cold. that definitely came from your balcony. you know it did. sweat immediately formed on your forehead as you gripped the handle of the saucepan. there's no mistaking it— you're not gonna be one of the dumb ones from those horror movies. you keep your body absolutely steady and still as you take out a kitchen knife slowly, slowly—

"ugh— CLANK!"

that is definitely someone in your balcony. you almost let out a whimper, biting your lips hard. you start praying internally as you hold back tears. with a silent, deep breath you slowly turn around and flinch when you see the silhouette of someone. you still can't make it out accurately, you don't quite have a proper line of sight of your balcony but its closer to you than your room is, un-fucking-fortunately.

you slowly inch out of your kitchen, knife in one hand and saucepan in another. you almost felt like rapunzel and you would have laughed at yourself had it not been a really dire situation. because chances are, whoever that is, definitely isn't your flynn rider.

your hands were clammy, sweating furiously as you start to slowly inch to your room. you just need to get in, get your phone and call the police and hope for once the GCPD is on time.

but then you pause—

"fuck... she.. not hear me."

you know that modulated voice. your memory isn't exactly the best, which is concerning because you aren't old and senile yet, but you know that voice. it hasn't exactly been that long since you saved that girl and met red hood— you could never forget that voice.

and curiosity gets the better of you as your legs change trajectory, inching to the balcony instead of your room. the sliding door to your balcony was partially ajar and you cursed at your lack of self preservation.

his voice was coming out in huffs and sighs, little grunts and broken words— he sounded almost pained.

as you finally reached the edge, you risked a peak but flinched back when you heard shuffling, eyeing the shadow of him trying to get up. you were half sure— but you could never be too cautious, if its not him, you could be in a shit load of trouble.

it was getting increasingly hard to hold your breath, the shaky breath you took that sounded like wild winds to your ears.

finally, you gripped the knife and pan hard, preparing yourself for the now or never moment. you swung your pan and lifted your knife as your battle cry (which really just sounded like a dying cry) tore through the silence. you squeezed your eyes shut as you got but a glimpse of the huge man and just, attacked. swung like your life depended on it.

"wha— HEY! WOAH— fuck you almost stabbed me in the eye!" he gasped out, his hands wrapping around your wrists staring at the pan and the knife.

"huh—" you peaked your eyes opened, and there under the moonlight that illuminated him barely enough, you recognised that red helmet. your body immediately relaxed as you let out a heavy sigh. "thank god its not some thief." the pan and knife in your hands went lax and he almost flinched.

a mere citizen with a pan and a knife scared the crap outta red hood. the things that would do to his reputation if it got out.

but what really confused him is how you...relaxed. it was understandable when you weren't affected by his intimidating presence back in the alley, since you were clearly in a state of panic. but even now, it almost feels like you know him, the way your body relaxes like it trusts the vigilante.

he doesn't know what it is but it heals something in his scarred heart.

"what— what are you even doing in my balcony?" she questioned as her brows furrowed again, "so much for not stalking huh?"

and as if on cue his body snapped out of the trance you pulled him in, he winced when he felt that sharp ache on his sides. things always go sideways, but sometimes it goes a little too sideways. his body cowered a bit and your eyes followed down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try to discern anything in the darkness, and why he's pressing his hand on his side.

"sorry about this— I'll leave—"

"wait is that blood?" you whispered quietly, gulping down a gasp as your fingers brushed against the dark red liquid that was partially dried up on his side. "oh god you are bleeding."

"easy." he hissed as your fingers pressed a little too firm on the wound, his hand shooting out to grab yours, slowly pulling it away.

"oops." you muttered awkwardly as you took your hand out of his grip and took a step back to properly assess the wound, "you're really bleeding. that's a lot of blood."

"oh is that right?" he scoffed as he leaned against the railing, supporting his weight on the arm, "thanks i didn't even know." he exclaimed sarcastically and looked around. he really needed to leave, he was sure you were beginning to see him as a creep.

you sighed and stopped yourself from giving him a deadpanned stare before stepping back inside your apartment, sliding the door away for him to enter. he paused and you saw his head tilting down before looking back at you, as if he cannot comprehend what you're suggesting.

"what?"

"what 'what'? you're bleeding on my balcony!" you waved him in, holding both the knife and pan in your hand, "I'll at least fix that up. im no nurse but i do know the basic."

"oh no no i can manage just fine." he waved you off and turned around making you click your tongue in exasperation. you beat the knife against the back of the pan, making a loud CLANG! sound, and he flinched before turning around.

"you look less like red hood and more like a senile man with a spine problem and a red tin bucket stuck on his head. come in." you said, or rather scolded, pointing towards your couch with the knife.

he is red hood. he has seen enough bloodshed, a shit ton of guns and their types, knives, daggers— you name it. and yet the sight of you holding a kitchen knife, yes, for some reason that straightened him up.

"look you really don't need to—"

"i am not pitying you okay? i am just—" you paused as you exhaled in frustration, pushing your hair back with the back of your hand, "just think of it as returning a favour okay? you helped me back then. saved me from a shit ton of panic and wrong decisions— and from the gcpd. so let me help you back."

he stood there for a moment, staring at you in contemplation. he clenched his jaw and cursed his past self for even entertaining you that time, for staying long enough to get 'intrigued'. he knows he shouldn't step in, shouldn't let you help. you are a normal person, with a normal life and nothing ever good comes out from associating with a vigilante— especially the red hood. he wants to berate you for not being rational enough but he cannot, for he is quite the same at the moment. he knows the right decision but the devil on his shoulder murmurs, weakening his resolve.

besides, he really is hurt.

"and I'll also forget that you practically stalked me." you added, your lips twitching in slight amusement.

finally, releasing a heavy sigh he stepped in, dragged his feet inside and plopped down of the couch. "i did not stalk you. don't flatter yourself." he immediately felt bad though in case he got blood on the couch.

you smiled to yourself before hurrying to the cabinet in your bathroom.

he looked out of place in your apartment, it was cozy and though it looked worn down in a lot of places. it looked homely. a certain warmth in it that eased him slightly. he looked to your direction before down at his wound.

seriously why did he even come here? he was on the run and automatically his legs carried him in this direction before remembering you lived close. and he took shelter. he's never this idiotic and he could practically hear bruce berating him for yet another wrong decision. dragging a normal person in his life.

"okay— shit that is really a lot of blood." you murmured as you switched on the light, kit in your hands while the pan and knife rested on the coffee table.

you sat beside him, damp cloth in hand to clean the blood off him first. you held the cloth and turned to him, for a moment just stared at him, unsure of how to tell him to lift up his clothes which was pretty layered you could tell.

"what?" he grunted as his eyes narrowed at your awkward staring and you pointed down at abdomen, "uh— lift that up. please?"

now that things are a bit calm, you're starting to really process things. gauge the situation, which is ridiculous. you literally have the red hood bleeding on your couch, and under the warmth of your light, your rather normal yet homey apartment did nothing to ward off the intimidating aura that surrounded him. your apartment feels small because of him. you don't even know how you noticed none of that when you first met him. it doesn't deter you, no its too late for that, but it certainly adds that need to be cautious around him— it makes you suddenly conscious about your actions.

he notices the slight change in demeanor, the stiffening of limbs, stolen glances that really looked like they were trying to analyse how much of a threat he is. he is used to this kind of looks, the apprehension and a part of him is glad that you finally have some sense of preservation to be wary of a literal stranger/ vigilante in your home.... but another part maybe had hoped that you wouldn't be.

he had hoped that you wouldn't see him as the 'thug of a vigilante' like everyone does, he doesn't know why. he just met you, and yet he had developed expectations of you.

he bit the inside of his cheek, glad his helmet could conceal the irritated scowl on his face before he slowly peeled off his shirt and vest to reveal the cut. it was deep— would need stitches.

but besides the cut, and you feel very guilty for thinking this when he's hurt, but he is chiseled like a greek god. toned muscles and abs, a sliver of skin and it already has you wanting to trace them. out of appreciation, of course.

"that would need stitches I think." you remarked quietly, looking a bit green and he lets out a snort. "told you you shouldn't."

you sighed before you began slowly dabbing at the area around the wound, cleaning the blood and small debris off. "i can at least just— bandage it. you can get it stitched later. im sure you have someone to do it."

the sight of blood does nauseate you a bit, your brows and lips a bit furrowed as you focused on getting it cleaned as fast as possible.

"i knew how to do them once." you began, biting your lips often while concentrating, "my mother taught me that. but now im so out of practice i dont wanna make it worse." you murmured and he stared down at you in thought.

"you do know you don't actually owe me shit? i mean you did the heavy work in that alley." he said quietly and for a moment it felt as if that modulated voice carried more emotion than it should, "you didn't need to do this."

he sounded guarded, grumpy even. you chuckled under your breath before shaking your head, "i do actually. if you didn't come there i don't know what i would have done. if i simply ran from there the paranoia would have eaten me alive. but knowing i left it with you, a vigilante who knows what to do, i was at ease. less shaken."

you look up and smirk, "and if that still sounds bullshit to you then consider this an act of goodwill from a friend." you moved away to dip the cloth again in water.

"oh we're friends now?" he scoffed out, actually surprised you'd say that. you scrunched your nose as you pretended to be confused, "i mean we had a pretty good conversation. that has to count." you retorted amusingly, totally not serious.

"a conversation where you were panicking about the guy you knocked out." he pointed out and the mirth in his voice amplified enough to annoy you, "not to mention hurling blames on innocent me."

you paused and scoffed, looking up at him a defensively, "i was not in the right mind alright? and you were late." you scowled and began dabbing away a little too quickly. "i was nice later on."

he resisted the urge to laugh, you were still stuck on that. "oh and by the way—" he paused to adjust himself on the couch, leaning back, "i am not stalking you."

your eyes lit up for a moment, as if glad he reminded you that, "oh so you just happened to stumble on my humble abode hm?" you narrowed your eyes at him, "red, if you found me hot you coulda just said that." you murmured smugly, lips pulled into a cheeky smile as you moved away, fetching the ointments to apply.

he scoffed at that, scoffing way too loud to maybe drown out the way his heart drummed when you smiled like that. "trust me, if i found you hot you'd know." he said sarcastically and you gave him a mock stink eye before applying the ointment.

if only you knew that he did find you hot. very hot.

"your apartment happened to lie on my way." he added with a shrug, his muscles tensing and contracting when the ointment stings the open wound. you do your best to not stare at anywhere else but the wound, really you are trying your best.

"of course and your legs just happened to fall on my balcony hm?" you murmured teasingly as you covered it up with a bandage.

"...yes it did." he replied quietly and curtly, and you just hummed a smile before standing up. "so that's done. let me clean up I'll get you a glass of water." you said as you began picking up the bowl and cloth. "you want to eat something? the blood loss might have made you a bit woozy."

you pause. he paused. you just know he's giving you the most blank deadpanned stare under that mask.

"you do know i have a—"

"yeah i know i know— i just forgot about the helmet." you grumbled quietly in embarrassment before walking away.

he watches you walk back and forth between the bathroom, washing your hands and rearranging the things back. he notices you're meticulate. he sweeps his gaze around the apartment, nothing is amiss, everything in its place as it should be except a few strays lying around. another observation down his mental diary about you, you're organised. mostly.

and then he remembers the interesting set of weapons you had and he lets out a snort which gets your attention as you were walking to the kitchen. "what?"

he's peeling his clothes back down when he shakes his head in response. "nothing."

"tch— what, red?"

"....a pan."

you groaned quietly as you rushed into the kitchen, "were you seriously gonna pull a rapunzel on me?" he called out sarcastically making you let out a involuntary laugh.

"no i just—" you pause as you laugh, drinking from the glass while you stayed standing, "i was about to make some noodles. and then i heard that loud thump sound so i just— i had it in hand!" you explained haphazardly as you rolled your eyes.

"still. a pan?"

"its better than nothing— oh quit it." you rolled your eyes as you put the glass down before you crossed your arms, raising a brow at him.

"how the hell are you gonna leave though? the front door?" he got up with a slight wince as he head back to the balcony.

"wait you're seriously gonna parkour back to your house? the bandage might open up!" you gawked at him as you followed behind, "so much effort and all down the drain."

"so that's what you're worried bout huh?" he scoffed sarcastically as he turned to looked down at you and you shrugged, "i mean im proud of my work. i don't wanna see it get ruined."

"you're heartless."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

you heard a muffled laugh coming from him, your eyes lingering on him for a few moments as your hands fidgeted with each other behind your back.

"uh take care!" you called out suddenly, worried about the vigilante maybe, while he fought to keep his heart from getting ahead of itself.

"don't worry this will be the last time i bother you."

"just don't get hurt, red."

"....."

"last time, huh?"

two weeks later, and you found red in your balcony again, this time with another wound in the opposite side, just as deep as last time. it makes you wonder if the vigilante has really come to trust you, even just a shred, to come to you when he's hurt. it warms your heart.

"i was gonna sing rapunzel let down your hair—"

"i will push you off my balcony."

reblogs are appreciated! :D

#jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood fluff #red hood angst #red hood x reader #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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lucygraysboy · 18 hours ago

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maybe?! it might be a harmless remark but it’s enough for a gleam of jealousy to enter billy’s eyes. brows inching closer together, he finds it impossible to refrain from frowning. she’s his little birdie, alright? “are there any other dinosaurs in your life that i should be aware of? i’ve got competition now, hm? a secret admirer tryin’ to steal my birdie’s heart?” shooting her a puzzled look, billy leans back against the tub and folds his arms over his chest in an almost theatrical manner. a heavy sigh following. he has a feeling this may be just another little game of hers, but if so, he doesn’t mind playing along. “go ‘head an’ ask the other dinosaurs if they’d be grossed out by your toe jam, your cheeto-feet, ‘cause i sure ain’t,” he proudly brags, tilting his chin up.

“course i am. jus’ look at me. the good-est dinosaur on the planet, last of my species,” he chimes in, his stomach flipping upside down when she lays her dainty hands on his broad shoulders. for a second, billy isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his own hands. there’s a part of him that wants to pull her into his lap, close what little space’s still between them, and hold her for a moment. but he doesn’t want to come on too strong, and so his arms just dangle at his sides for a while. useless. only to end up in his own lap. his heart is thundering inside his chest, shocked and confused when lucy gray leans in and… does she truly want to kiss him? he puckers his lips, palms sweaty but coming to the surface to rest on either side of her waist, the whole world melting away. he can feel her in his personal space, the hint of peppermint on her breath mixing with an ounce of vanilla and chlorine. he even tilts his head a little, and then… nothing happens. what the hell?

he’s about to pout in protest, eyes popping open, but the second time, her lips brush against the corner of his for real, and fireworks explode in his belly. it’s not even a real kiss but it still has billy feeling like a teenager again, glad he’s sitting down because his legs have turned to rubber already. “hm?” he almost forgot he’s supposed to be focusing on her lipgloss. “oh.” blushing all the way to the tips of his ears, he uses the pad of his thumb to gather the stickiness from his lip and sucks it clean, humming as if her lipgloss was the best thing his tastebuds ever tried. eyes playful and brimming with mischief when they find hers, lips smacking together. “not sure. that wasn’t a real sample,” he protests, the pad of his thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip, “think i might need another one.”

“maybe, you never know.” it’s cruel teasin’, she knows that. but she ought to know there’s no other dinosaurs and she likes to see him a little harmlessly jealous. “traded my ankles for my wrists, this doesn’t help.” now she’s anchoring herself with her feet that have been let go of. “well, i thought it.” thought it was a successful trap. “to pester dinosaurs like you, leave my piggies alone you big bad wolf.” she laughs before ew’ing between laughing at toe jam and peanut butter being put together in a sentence. lucy gray jumps up when the SPLASH she knew was coming right back in her direction comes in, the water hitting her in the belly button instead. “i bet you are.” she laughs, coming over to grab his shoulders as he holds his hands up. being this much closer to him making her heart pound erratically for some reason… his lips she studies, causing her heart to lurch even more out of ribcage. she pretends to smooch him but never reaches his lips, flashing a teasing smile before she actually does it. it’s fast, a firm but quick press to the corner of his lips, just enough to leave enough lipgloss residue on his skin but not enough to call it a real kiss so she doesn’t blush to death. “there. how’s that, lover?” she just left the taste of vanilla cupcake on his lips.

#billysgirllol #his heart wont handle lol #hes so in love with her :'))) dino simp

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 2 days ago

Note

In the Nikola-childhood-cat-turned-Human verse, despite Fiddleford being onto this definitely NOT human man, it isn't until Ma Pines sends Carla down to check on Ford/escape the problems in Jersey that Ford and Fiddleford think to ask Ma Pines if she had twins and had to give one away.

And by think, I mean Carla gets read into the odd behaviors of supposed twin brother NikolaStan and she just asks, "Well, what did your Ma say when you told her? You haven't told her?? Your secret twin brother shows up, and you didn't think to ask your parents about it?"

Ford and Fidds are very embarrassed to admit that they did not think of that.

Now, whether Ma clears things up is the question. Maybe she asks to speak to NikolaStan first and likes him well enough to lie. Maybe she tells the truth, and it becomes even more confusing because NikolaStan is genetically Ford's twin (is he a clone??).

NikolaStan is sweating talking to Ma.

Ma: So you're my son.

Stan: Yes.

Ma: I don't remember giving birth to twins.

Stan: I was very small.

I cackled reading this, let me tell you.

Two of the smartest men on earth, and neither of them would think to just ask Fords ma if she had another child.

The best answer?

Ma: I don't remember.

Ford: what do you mean you don't remember if you had another child! That's a whole child!

Ma: well it was a rough labor on your poor old ma, and the doctors back then really gave out the good stuff. One second I was in the worst pain of my life, the next I was waking up to a little bundle of joy :). So for all I know maybe he is your brother, and the doc stole him or something.

Fiddleford: why would they steal him?

Stan, jumping on this new avenue: I had the wrong number of fingers.

All of them (except ma, who is on the phone) look to see his 10 fingers.

Ford: no you don't, I do. You have a normal amount.

Stan: yeah, and it was weird, because you don't. And we're twins, so...

All of them: that doesn't make sense, but you also don't make sense.

Stan: I am winning at this :3

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #how to cat burglar a family #cat stan #stan pines #ford pines

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chvoswxtch · 2 days ago

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I still haven’t emotionally processed episode four and I probably never will but if you’re interested in my chaotic ramblings pls step into my office below

first of all frank waited ten fucking years to get his lick back he is the pettiest bitch alive and I am here for it

he said bitch I didn’t forget when you said “boo hoo who’d you lose” reverse uno altar boy

“how bout old foggy, he get life?”

FRANCIS DAVID CASTIGLIONE HOW DARE YOU

also the fucking hand clapping while saying I don’t have time for your candy ass hero shit he’s so fucking sassy pls

the juxtaposition between wanting to cream seeing our boys back together onscreen but also wanting to scream bc that whole interaction was so raw and brutal and wrecked me and not in the slutty way like I wanted

I wanna talk about how matt either knew where frank was this entire time or he knows frank’s heartbeat and scent and tracked him there which is stupid romantic

I don’t wanna talk about how frank didn’t even raise his hands to defend himself and would’ve let matt keep hitting him

I don’t want to talk about matt’s whole monologue about foggy bc I will never emotionally recover from that

I do want to talk about how 3 different people kept emphasizing to matt that the system is broken and does not work that was definitely not a coincidence

I do want to talk about matt being a slut and flirting to reduce a prison sentence

also the end?? adam screaming “let me out” while matt is on the roof with his billy club after trying to not let the devil out for 4 episodes??? the fucking parallels my GOD

each fucking episode just keeps getting better and better

honorable mention fisk nearly crashing out having to sit though 2 choir performances had me HOLLERING

I also want to do a lil check in since we only have five episodes left of this half of this season-

I have seen a lot of people say this matt feels “out of character” and I think that’s the point. it’s supposed to be uncomfortable. there’s a lot of underlying tension in this season, it feels like something is building and we’re all waiting for the eruption. this is not the matt we saw in the original series. we will probably never get that matt back. this is season 3 matt but like times ten. he said he would rather die as the devil than live as matt murdock and he definitely “died” the night foggy was killed, in his daredevil suit on that roof. he also pushed dex off the roof, and although dex didn’t die so it wasn’t murder, matt still attempted to kill him, which still counts as crossing a line in his own head

matt is not living, he’s existing. he is a hollow shell of who he used to be. he lost everything that made him who he was

foggy, his best friend and moral compass. karen, his other best friend and voice of reason. he lost the two people who were essentially the only family he had left in the world. he lost his home, he told fisk he doesn’t go back to hell’s kitchen and doesn’t live there anymore. he lost his faith, he’s not going to church anymore. and he lost daredevil, his outlet to let his darker half out that made him feel like he was making a difference. this man is lost

the term “born again” is usually used to describe a religious transformation. I don’t think calling the show born again was just about matt returning as daredevil. I think it’s us seeing matt at his absolute lowest, hitting rock bottom, losing every sense of who he is, and then watching him rise from the ashes

I truly thought hector being murdered was gonna make matt lose his shit but now I’m very curious what’s going to make him actually snap and put the suit back on. I think the main reason he's fighting it so hard is to honor foggy's memory. foggy's last words to him were "I didn't want to give you a reason". foggy always wanted matt to put his faith in the system and do things the "right" way and matt is trying to do that but he's clearly struggling, because he has no faith in anything anymore

I have a lot of ideas about what I think is going to happen this season but I’d love to hear what y’all think so feel free to ramble with me or just scream or cry we can do that too

#daredevil born again spoilers #ddba spoilers #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #frank castle #the punisher #foggy nelson #court rambles #court is never gonna shut the fuck up about episode 4 #someone call my therapist #send help to 123 internet street

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mcflymemes · 2 days ago

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GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY (2014) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

you can't! you'll die! why are you doing this? why?

it can't be done. you're asking us to die.

i have lived most of my life surrounded by enemies. i will be grateful to die among my friends.

you are an honorable man.

i will fight beside you.

well that's just as fascinating as the first 89 times you told me that.

i just wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you've accepted me despite my blunders.

it is good to once again be among friends.

i can barely see.

where did you learn to do that?

i'll have to agree with the walking thesaurus on that one.

nothing goes over my head.

i have a plan.

you've got a plan? first of all, you're copying me from when i said i had a plan.

i don't think you even have a plan.

we've already established that you destroying the ship i'm on is not saving me!

when did we establish that?

i wasn't listening then.

i just saved [name]!

you don't get an opinion.

that's a fake laugh.

it's barely a concept.

you're taking their side?

what the hell does that have to do with anything?

i am going to die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy.

no one's blowing up morons.

you just wanna suck the joy out of everything.

when i look around, you know what i see? losers.

i am not gonna stand by and watch as billions of lives are being wiped out.

leave it to me.

look at him. he's useless.

on that wall back there is a black panel. blinky yellow light. you see it?

how are we supposed to do that?

you must be joking.

i really heard they find you attractive.

we gotta move quickly.

for the record, i advised them against trusting you.

prove me wrong.

i am not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.

i'm a warrior. an assassin. i don't dance.

we have a legend about people like you. it's called footloose. and in it, a great hero named kevin bacon teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that dancing is the greatest thing there is.

we're just like kevin bacon.

you've heard of this. you've seen this, right? you know what this is.

you're an imbecile.

what did the galaxy ever do for you?

why would you want to save it?

what should we do next? something good? something bad? bit of both?

we'll follow your lead, [name].

take my hand.

you said it yourself, bitch.

do you believe him?

your ship is filthy.

if i had a blacklight, this would look like a jackson pollock painting.

who calls him that?

i don't know how this machine works.

what are you doing?

dance-off. me and you.

quit smiling, you idiot. you're supposed to be professional.

i like your knife. i'm keeping it.

that was my favorite knife.

i live for the simple things.

he has no respect.

you're drunk.

this is exactly why none of you have any friends.

you've always been weak.

no one talks to my friends like that.

i only ask that you take this matter seriously.

you should have learned.

i don't learn. one of my issues.

what a bunch of a-holes.

you should try to be more nice to people.

hold on a second. you're being serious right now?

#a gift for my friend astro!!!!!!!!!!! ENJOY THE MEME!!#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #mcflymemes #rp starters #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme #ask memes #ask meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters

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verdancy-hime · 2 days ago

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It's trying to kill her.

She's trying to kill herself instead.

Her alarm clock says "It's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish."

The first time you met her, she was yelling at the cars in the road to get her to hit her to buy her a computer. Or was it that she was wearing all different colors of lipgloss around her neck and coming out of a tunnel full of bats and thinking "I am suddenly certain that the best years of my life are all behind me. I am going to kill myself one day." And you thought "that's a weird thing for a second grader to be thinking. Girls usually aren't that depressed until they have tits."

One of them keeps talking about how she moved on and she's healthy now.

The other has been saying over and over that she tries not to think about it because she knows they'll lock her up one day. She knows they made her wrong on purpose. She knows they have been trying to fix her but she won't fix. There's always some battle of wits and will and they all accuse her of being greedy but she always wins and always wonders why they didn't try bribery when bribery always works. She is lying on a floor at a party among a group of beautiful girls and you don't know why you are listening to her say this instead of them. This keeps happening. You will find her next to a girl with a perfect face for this moment, the girl will lick your shoulder blade. You wind up having a conversation about some book you never read and how you would like it based on this movie you mentioned. The other girl crawls into your lap. She walks over to your friend and starts asking him questions. You buy the book the next day. It sits on the shelf for three years after the girl with the face and the lips and the... other assets is gone. There are other girls in the meantime. You don't read it but you don't throw it away. One night you are in a new place and nothing is unpacked and you can't sleep and you can't even look at any more liquor after the last three weeks and here is this book. And on the first page when you open it up, you are reintroduced to yourself that year back then. And you know which girl is the girl who is telling the truth about who she is because she dies in the book. Unmistakably, she dies. And it's not even the end of the story. It's not the point of it. It's like here you are on the night you met and she dies and here you are going through all these miseries that hadn't happened yet when the book was written. And here you are on the next page of your own life.

You know it was her because she wants to. She talks about wanting everything, how to do anything. How to get away with it. How to make ugly things beautiful and evil things good and stupid things smart. but the one thing that never changes is that she stares into a cup or a light for too long, she writes a story, she tells you about things she's done-

You go to admire her for her bravery or what she's done. She can lie and say what she's supposed to say- yes, I know , I'm great. Or she says "people think I'm brave but really I just already have to live with the things they're afraid of. I'm not afraid of losing the things they have because I don't have them. And If I get stuck, I always think 'I'll just kill myself if this doesn't work."

You know it's her because she keeps getting into cars with boys because she thinks maybe one will murder her. And when she realizes they want to take her home and keep her, she stops doing that and starts asking them why they don't love their empty houses. And when she gets urged to make a wish, everyone offers her things she wants but the only wish she will take is "I wish I was dead." And the only way to talk her out of it is to say someone else will also die. And one day, you turn on your TV and it has a girl and it's not her face and it's not her name and it's not her voice speaking in her register and she dies and says everyone else will live if she does it. And one day you, even you, turn on the car radio and here's a song about her sung by someone who looks like her and sounds like her and you don't remember the story about how she read a book about a vampire hunter with a harem and said she didn't like it because the girl always is smug and mean about other women's makeup but a girl named after a legend in Arthurian myth put it in her face when she went out into the snow and walked around screaming for hours when she fell asleep next to a girl her friends tried to set her up with at a party after finding out she was too young and wrapping her in a blanket and talking to her a while. The cute hacker girl with the knee socks she bought her who begged to be turned into a girl and rescued from her parents who wanted to be a boy was giggling with another teenage girl that if you drink rum and diet coke it tastes just like skittles. Neither one of them were wearing any clothes. She went outside and screamed and screamed and screamed and after that night she couldn't sing anymore. Before that she got compliments. Sometimes. So she went inside and this girl named after a boy who went insane and died as a tree after he drank some potion and fell in love with the king's girl handed her a book so she would have something to do other than throw up from crying. Her father used to yell at her for crying so hard it made her sick. She still does it. Singing or no singing, her lungs still do that. Too big for the rest of her. She tells you the only thing she remembered was "you don't give somebody to the monsters." And the rest was just bullshit. And she tells you that she doesn't want anyone else to die when she dies.

And she tells you that she used to talk to this person. One she made up.

So you know it's worse than the time where she lost her singing voice when one day you see her saying there was this cult that she thinks tricks people into exorcising their own souls, they say it's mindfulness and they used to say it was demons they cast out. But what happens if you have too many souls? What then? She says she beat them but they killed her cat, but now her cat brings the souls back. She says now they want to kill her, but that's okay. Because no one else will die with her.

You know the other her is fake because it's immortal, but it writes songs about how it doesn't want to die. Maybe she might develop jealousy or pettiness or insecurity or rage or grief or anything else. She would never give up her death.

But you turn on the television, you go to read a book

And all the monsters aren't monsters, they're just people she used to know.

"What's that even supposed to mean, 'It's not her'? If it looks like her, talks like her, acts like her, thinks like her, thinks it IS her, who's to say that it is NOT her?"

#every girl gets her wish

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dailyhmsw · 1 day ago

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random question but what was the animation process like for the video did you just eyeball it or was there a story boarding process?

HI YES there was a little bit of planning ,, i'd had the idea in my head for AGES and i am the type of person to daydream on every bus/car ride i go on so i already knew approximately what i wanted to do,, more under cut

originally i was gonna do coelacanth by glass beach instead of motions, but i decided to do motions simply because it seemed more realistic and i had more practical ideas, if that makes sense,,,

anyways here's the storyboard i cooked up. i deviated a lot from it but also used it as a guideline for alot of thingfs.,,,

seeing my shitty little sketches is a bit embarrassing now but hu#iogpguo*?&#yvub OIT'S FINEEE

it WAS supposed to be a little longer but i decided a little while into the project that it would just . take up too much time so i cut the beginning down :C very unfortunate

i also had a folder with "concept art" i guess you could say?? just little tests for me to get used to the style i wanted (loops 170 and 141 were also tests for this)

+ a screenshot from the animation that inspired the style i went for next to heart

also life tip: literally any animation software you can get your hands on is better than firealpaca. that poor program was suffering and nearly crashing the entire time i was making this due to the sheer amount of layers on any given shot, and you have to divide up the shots into different files and export them as gifs and only THEN once you've imported them into your editing software can you check if they're timed correctly......... i only use firealpaca because i have nothing else. its animation mode is great for little gif loops though!!

i'll add all the extra brushes i used to my brush list too C:

everything was animated at 6 fps (to save myself some pain, also because i like how it looks) and at a 4:3 aspect ratio

#dailyhmsw asks #loop 200 #chonny jash #i love talking about my process.. nonsensical as it may be

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formiito · 1 day ago

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Hello! May I request some pre-relationship/crush headcanons with Kunikida, Atsushi and (ADA) Dazai (all separate) with a reader from the port mafia? How would they realise they are in love? How would they handle it etc etc. I love love love crush headcanons with all my heart<33

heart to heart — crush hcs!!

author's note: i'm an idiot who wrote this fic almost exclusively in hours 2-4 am. my eyes are in pure suffering. an unhealthy amount of fiona apple and unreleased lana del rey songs went into writing this. idk how to write headcannons so this ended up kind of like a fic with bullet points lmao

— KUNIKIDA

• Working with the Port Mafia is something he is (unfortunately) no longer a stranger to. Still, an extended mission was a bit too risky for his tastes. But everyone said that he was fine, so he should be, right? If only he knew what novel sort of trouble he would face once he took the job.

• For the mission, he was partnered with you. You must've been of a different unit, because he is sure he has never seen you in person before. Except for being mentioned in passing by Dazai in his inane conversations, there was little he knew of you.

• At first, he was skeptical. Not sure whether he could truly trust a person with your affiliations to not double cross him in some way. However, you proved yourself capable soon enough. You worked with decisive efficiency, and even with his rather ridiculously timed schedules, you seemed to have no trouble keeping up with him.

• Needless to say, you two got to know each other fairly well over the course of a month. By now, you were acquainted atleast a little of his likes and dislikes. The late night sessions to plan out the routes and inspect the case files over and over; your friendship sprawls over late cups of coffee, the impatient scratching of pen on paper, and the files scattered on the table while you both worked.

• This was still professional; he'd reason with himself. So what if he's had a few drinks with you once in a while? So what if you've been spending a little too much time at his home lately?

• Dazai’s endless teasing on the matter did not help. At all. As he grows more and more defensive, he wonders if he has grown a little too attached to his new partner.

• Kunikida isn't an idiot. Even he can see how much you've made an impression on his life. He simply isn't ready to admit that this could possibly be romantic in nature. After all, you fit none of the ideals he's decided for his supposed future partner. In some form of pointed irony, the pages of the notebook that carry said ideals are also filled with the random, little things he's noticed you need; chapstick, switchblades, pens— all for them to be ready when you inevitably reach for them.

• Nor can he help stealing a littlewhen said chapstick swipes so elegantly along your lips.

• Absolute gentleman, with or without a crush. Opens the car door for you on the other side, makes sure you have your seatbelt on, makes sure to watch your back while you both do field work. It’s just a nice thing to do, he reasons, but feels your touch like it was branded into his skin where your hand accidentally brushed on his elbow.

• The weeks that follow after after drawn out, confusing. As time goes on, he cannot help but read into your every action, taking note of all the little details that outline you as a person; from your tastes to little quirks. While you seem blissfully unconcerned, he could not help but feel the weight of the tension between your conversations. It is not these emotions that scare him, but their intensity. His hands tremble as they once again bandage your wounds from the day’s work, mouth dry as he looks at the gashes you think nothing of—and he wonders since when he started caring so much.

• Kunikida may be a man of his ideals, but he can be honest with himself when he needs to be. And whether he says it aloud or not, he’s already known the effect you have on him. He's known it for a long time.

• When he inevitably confesses to you, there is nothing special about it. It's another evening at his house discussing work, and when you both take a break from investigation, he brings it up to you. He isn't expecting the sentiment to be reciprocated. In fact, he is not sure he even wants that to happen. He says it to be honest. With himself and with you. You deserve to know. And perhaps if he said it out loud, the feelings would subside, even for a little while; with a definite answer, he’d have a reason to put out the growing ember.

• Nothing could've prepared him for the shock of learning that this troublesome feeling could possibly be mutual. And nothing could have prepared him for the coy kiss on his reddened cheek after.

— ATSUSHI

• someone help this poor guy

• no, he's really hopeless with it, but let me explain

• When he was asked to collaborate with the Port Mafia once more, he expected to be paired with Akutagawa once more. You were a pleasant change of pace. At first, he was only met with your suspicion; something that drove an initial rift between the two of you. You weren't sure whether you could truly trust this weretiger you've heard so much about to hold up his end of the deal, and neither could he rely on this complete stranger who regards him so frigidly. However, you both were indebted to your respective organisations—it had to be worked out.

• Your staunch independence, and the confident countenance that carried with it an understated superiority, no doubt the effect of years of experience; at first it irked him. It made him taste a little of the helplessness that trailed him like a shadow all those years ago. He attempted to chase away the feeling; biting back at your subtle digs at his skill and experience, trying to keep up with you as best as he could. You matched each other surprisingly well when you both were at your most competitive; the combination of your finesse and his strength was lethal in the most satisfying of ways.

• Over the weeks, you both get to know each other a little better. The small talks on the way to station were something that he was, despite knowing better, looking forward to. He always seemed more affected by your banter than you were by any retort he could possibly throw at you; and when the sly curve of your lip made him feel the strangest sensation of a sort of rush in his veins, he made no notice of it.

• After that morning, this strange feeling had been growing worse. Steadily through the days, but even so he could point out that the emotion that seemed to sit just beneath his chest was unfamiliar. Sometimes he had to force himself to look away from you just to get it to stop and actually be able to hear what you were saying over the erratic beat of his heart. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but him, and despite the constant teasing and prodding by Dazai on what’s got him so nervous, he still assumed it was merely admiration. Perhaps he was simply in awe of your abilities. For weren't you so impressive when you dispatch your targets so effortlessly, or when you execute such flawless plans with an ease in your mien that makes it look of so simple?

• But then that begs the question as to why he still stares in a daze when you're doing nothing, just catching your breath in the wall crack you had pulled him into to throw off the people chasing you both; his back hitting the wall and you the only separation between him and whoever was at your tails, stalking the alleyway outside. Breaths held, not making a sound; if you both got caught, this was over, and you both understood the stakes better than anyone. He definitely knew just what was waiting for the both of you out there, and that just made the situation far more frustrating, because then why is he so absorbed in how pretty your jelly-like gaze is, or how cool you looked back there when you silently felled that patrol guard? He feels like his brain has melted. Or atleast the still working part of it, because it's not even the first time you've had that effect on him.

• Your hand tentatively shifts, and for a moment he snaps out of the daze. There is abject fear in his eyes, because what the fuck are you doing when the both of you are one slip up away from messing up this mission you both worked so hard on? Yet your fingers, trembling with the rush of adrenaline and the fear of death, wipe the blood on his cheek, observing a rather deep cut inflicted by the serrated edge of a dagger. He could take a hit, but for some reason worry seemed to claw at your mind relentlessly until you could make sure he was okay.

• Perhaps he'd stopped functioning right there and then, because when the footsteps receded and the coast was finally clear, he could barely hear you say that it was safe to come out. Instead, his first move is to hold his heart and take a deep fucking breath. Not just to calm him down from being chased like that—for he's already been chased so many times—but to stop thinking about that brief, soft touch that reasonably, should not even affect him.

• At this point, he's kind of convinced he's going crazy. And like so many problems in his life, there's only one other person to hear it. Coincidentally also the worst person to go to for that kind of counsel.

• Dazai.

• Bastard laughed for fifteen whole minutes before explaining in broken wheezes what Atsushi was possibly afflicted with. Then immediately began sighing and bemoaning about having to help his coworker with silly love problems once he finally stopped cackling like a witch.

• After this… enlightening conversation, Atsushi promptly decides that he's never going to be able to look the man in the eye ever again.

• Now, he's got a whole slew of new problems going on. This mission, you, the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of his coworker, and that he had no idea how to even face you after this realization.

• Naturally, he wants to avoid this situation. Atsushi doesn't even consider telling you. He wants to, so badly. His throat feels tight when you look at him so sharply, and he can't help but feel that if he sticks around you for too long, you'll look straight through him and somehow find out. But he has every reason to think this won't work out. Every reason why it won't work out. It wasn't the time for love, not even in the small moments of respite between the constant violence you two had to deal with.

• This distance he's been keeping from you…there is no doubt that you feel it too. He can see as much. The disappointment in your gaze when he keeps on pushing you away; it hurts. And he knows with the way your hands are curled in fists now that you're at your breaking point.

• But instead of the argument he thought this would inevitably lead to, you simply pull him into a corner. In the most sincere tone he's ever heard you speak in, you ask him if you did something wrong. Between your deliberate words, your hands on the collar of his shirt that hold him in place with nothing but gentle firmness, and the emotions that he tried so hard to stifle for the past few weeks; he confesses. Leaves nothing unspoken, even if he consciously knows that this is a bad idea. Knows he shouldn't hand you that kind of power over his heart.

• Yet he doesn't regret it a single bit when he feels your hands leave his shirt collar and wrap around his shoulders, your silent answer that kills the bitter uncertainty left in his heart and replaces it with relief.

— DAZAI

• Your history with the brunet was brief, but not something he has ever forgotten. He’s not quick to forget faces in any case, but yours remained in his memory still.

• You both worked together fairly often some three or four years back, the timeline is blurry in his mind now—in those days, your presence seemed like it would be a permanent fixture in his life. Something to count upon. Perhaps he had hoped for the fact, until an year after when he finally decided to leave this life in the dust, and you with it.

• At the time, Dazai had dismissed those feelings as puppy love; the sort of infatuation that comes with simply being of that age where every emotion feels so amplified in intensity. You were one of his first friends, it was only natural to want to cling on, wasn't it? Only with time it became easier to ignore the hold your presence had on him, his mind too consumed with the ongoing chaos in his life to think about that craving he had during initial weeks of your separation— thumb trembling over the call button.

• A few years after, seeing your face stirs nothing in Dazai. A feeble sense of regret is all that remains, and within a few seconds even that dies off. You've changed, definitely; rough-hewn edges from mafia life, knife-hand no longer trembling when it goes for the kill. Decisive, swift movements, a certain confidence in your words that comes from experience. How the glimmer that used to be in your eyes has long since been clouded over. In a way, it makes him feel closer to you, that your soul is being slowly chipped away, just like his.

• Initially, you regarded him like any other professional acquaintance. Not daring to breathe a word of the past, even when you wanted to demand an explanation out of him so desperately. Anything to make the memories of your shared past more bearable. You know better than to give into those whims. If only for the sake of your mission, the past had to be put aside. Between the both of you, there seemed to be a mutual, unspoken understanding for the need to let go. Your slates are cleaned, and you both once again end up in the same place you started; Yokohama’s shipping docks.

• Over the weeks, being around you feels easier. You both work well into the nights, but it's a little more bearable around your company. The banter is easy between the both of you. Lips curved into a cheshire grin at his antics, you always seemed to be more amused with his actions than annoyed.

• Even now when he decides that diving head first into the sea would've made for a perfectly delightful method of suicide, a knowing sigh leaves your lips, painstakingly pulling him out of the fishnets with a firm grip on his beige coatsleeve. Of course, the effort is in vain when you lose your footing and end up falling into the water with him too. Splash!

• Somehow, even when he's walking home, sopping wet in the winter breeze, he feels strangely warm as you chide him, observing how your lips twitch as if to hide a smile.

• It’s your fault, really. Perhaps if you both didn't fit together so well, if it wasn't so effortless to be around you, he might have avoided feeling the same way around you again. It's not lost upon Dazai, how comfortable he's getting with your presence, especially when he knows it's a temporary one. A fact that he is compelled to face again and again everytime you both end up in the field.

• The danger they were facing were still very much real. Despite how confident you seem to be in your ability, your tight shoulders and shaky breaths betray you in the heat of the moment. Through your hesitation to follow through his plans, you still trust him at his word. He can't help but wonder why.

• Your actions hold a certain carefulness—he doesn't want to call it care, for when it comes to you, he finds it hard to tell what you're thinking—that he doesn't understand. As you wrap the gauze around the wound on his arm from a bullet graze, fingers touching his skin with a kind of gentleness he's only ever known from you… Dazai wonders when you'll finally tell him what you're really after.

• The brief thought occurs to him, no doubt, that maybe you do these things simply because you want to. That perhaps you still care too much, like you did all those years ago. But he knows better than to count on something as fickle as the kindness of people’s hearts. He was never that naive.

• Even so, as the long days and even longer nights pass by, he can't help but once again start feeling as he used to in the distant past, only that this time he has no excuse for it.

• Dazai doesn't blush and his heart doesn't race when he sees you. Instead, it's something far more sickening and confusing. With you, it's easier to drop the delicate layers of pretense that seem to obscure his true thoughts and emotions like delicate gauze. There is a sort of ease of being around you, a sense of belonging. In the delicate moments of the late night hours with you, humanity doesn't simply feel like a cloth to wear to hide the rotten core within. You touch him like you know him, even when he knows that the blood staining his hands is far darker than yours.

• You don't even have an inkling of how he feels, and Dazai believes that it's for the best. He’ll tell you in the future, if he can grow to trust you. He wants to say it when he can be sure of it, in a more peaceful time. Even if he doesn't want you to slip through his fingers again like he did in the past, he wants to wait.

• But right now, all he can see is your bloodied fingertips trembling in the aftermath of the day’s chaos, barely having escaped with your lives. In the silent night, neither of you mention how he holds your hand silently on the walk home, bandaged fingers holding yours with deliberate care.

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shaiyasstuff · 9 hours ago

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a dance of ice and fire | zayne | chapter three

synopsis : Betrothed to the Crown Prince for the sake of peace, you are seen as a weapon to be wielded, not a queen to rule. But it is not your arrogant, power-hungry fiancé you fear—it is his brother, Zayne. Once indifferent to the throne, Zayne now moves with purpose, his quiet defiance and lingering glances far more dangerous than any war. As alliances shift and tensions rise, one truth becomes clear: he never wanted the crown, but for you, he will take it

content : medieval!au, strategist/advisor!zayne x princess!reader, reader is also future empress consort, arranged marriage!au, elemental!au, forbidden love, maybe a touch of angst if i’m feeling it, loads of eye-fucking, savage reader and zayne, light smut, minors do not interact.

writer’s note : i think i will try to regulate my posting time starting next chapter! Probably almost every day because i currently do not have a life and i’m dedicated to this series :)) also i have received several asks saying that there isn’t enough “romance” scenes, i’d like to say now that i never intended for this fic to be purely “romance”, it is meant to be that way, suspense, political intrigue, and just reader and Zayne being badass. But anywayy, this is for you lovelies @regalillegal @sugarphoric

quote : “I am fire as I am fury. I am not yours.” - reader

parts | one | two | three

It had rained that day.

Not the sharp storms that lashed against the palace walls in the dead of winter, but a warm, quiet kind of rain—the kind that softened the air and blurred the edges of the world.

You were sixteen, standing beneath the twisted arch of the fire gardens, the scent of cinders and blooming flamevine curling in the mist.

Your ceremonial robes were too heavy, your crown too tight, your patience worn thin after hours of being paraded through the halls like a prized artifact.

You had pulled away. Just for a moment.

And he had followed.

Zayne, in his crisp uniform, slightly damp from the rain, his silver-threaded cloak pulled loose and dragging against the stone.

He leaned against the column like he had nothing better to do, arms crossed, watching you with the lazy amusement that had always infuriated you.

“You’re not supposed to be out here.”

You didn’t look at him. You let the rain soak into your sleeves, tilting your head to the sky. “Neither are you.”

He hummed, a soft sound, and you could hear the smirk in it. “Difference is, no one expects anything from me.”

You turned then, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not true.”

Zayne shrugged. “It’s not untrue.”

You studied him—this boy who wore disinterest like armor, who said little but saw everything, who stood in the shadow of a brother who was born to rule.

“You let them underestimate you.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours, quiet, steady. “It’s easier that way.”

You stepped closer, your voice low. “And what happens when they stop?”

Zayne didn’t answer. Not at first. His gaze lingered on yours a second too long. The kind of silence that carried weight.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to remind them why that was a mistake.”

A beat passed. The rain pattered softly on the stone.

And then, he smiled. Just barely. “You look ridiculous in that crown, by the way.”

You scowled. “I hate it.”

He chuckled. “Good. It’ll suit you when you actually take it for yourself.”

You frowned. “That’s not how it works.”

“No,” he murmured, turning back toward the shadows. “But one day it will be.”

You watched him walk away, the rain soaking into the edges of his cloak, and you didn’t know it then—

But that was the first time Zayne ever said he believed in you.

Not with declarations.

But with truth.

Quiet. Steady. Unshakable.

Like him.

—•

Court had dragged, the air in the war chamber thick with tension masked behind noble civility. Discussions of trade disputes and rising unrest droned on, but the real conflict never touched parchment.

It moved in glances. In silence.

In knowing.

Zayne hadn’t said much. He hadn’t needed to.

Each time the crown prince tried to assert himself, Zayne’s gaze would flicker—cool, unreadable—and a few well-placed words would shift the conversation away.

Not forcefully. But deliberately.

By the time the court was dismissed, the power in the room had quietly shifted, and everyone felt it—though most couldn’t name it.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the fabric of your gown, already preparing for another wave of nobles seeking your favor.

But before you could take a step, Zayne’s hand brushed your wrist. Light. Barely a touch.

“Walk with me.”

You looked up. And that’s when you saw it.

Something in his eyes.

He was calm. But there was a gleam behind it.

Not just calculation.

Movement.

Something had already happened.

You followed him without question.

He led you through the quieter halls of the palace, corridors meant for whispers and strategy, not ceremony. At the end of one passage, a man waited—tall, composed, robed in dark green and silver.

Lord Varyn.

Loyal to the crown prince. At least, until recently.

You slowed, your gaze flicking back to Zayne.

Of course.

He had moved the board again.

Without needing permission. Without making a sound.

Zayne didn’t stop walking until he stood just beside the older noble. “He wants to speak with you.”

You arched a brow. “You arranged this.”

Zayne glanced at you, his voice low. “It was time.”

Lord Varyn bowed his head slightly. “Your Highness. I no longer believe the crown is resting on the right heir.”

You kept your expression still, but your heart gave the faintest twist.

He had done it.

Quietly. Cleanly.

And now, the first real piece had shifted.

Zayne’s voice was quiet behind you, meant only for your ears. “They’re watching you. All I had to do was show them where to look.”

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn’t him waiting for power.

This was him taking it.

Lord Varyn bowed his head again in deference, but his eyes remained sharp—measuring. Curious. The kind of man who had survived court politics not by loyalty, but by knowing when to shift it.

You looked between him and Zayne, then allowed the corner of your lips to curve, just barely.

“You’re quick to the point.”

Lord Varyn gave a slight nod. “At court, delay is a luxury only the losing side can afford.”

Zayne stepped forward, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the way he spoke.

“The court is shifting. Slowly, but visibly.” His eyes flicked to Varyn, then back to you.

“My brother rules in name, but he’s losing the confidence of those he depends on. His temper’s too sharp, his actions too loud.”

You said nothing, letting him go on.

“He thought marrying you would be the answer.” There was no venom in Zayne’s tone, only fact. “But now you stand beside me in every council session. You speak with weight. You act with power.” He tilted his head.

“They see it. They see you.”

Varyn shifted slightly, enough for you to notice the approval behind his gaze.

“What are you offering?” you asked, directing it to both of them.

Zayne didn’t miss a beat. “Stability. A court that listens. A ruler who knows the difference between command and control.”

Varyn added, quietly, “And a match that would bring clarity to the line of succession.”

The room fell still. That last line was not a suggestion—it was an alignment.

Zayne didn’t react, didn’t press. He was letting it sit. Letting it be your choice.

But everything about his presence told you—this wasn’t just a meeting.

It was a turning point.

You met Varyn’s gaze again, then turned back to Zayne, studying the man who had once stayed behind the curtain, and now stood inches from the throne.

He had moved first.

And now, all eyes were on you.

You let the weight of Varyn’s words settle, the subtle declaration behind them not lost on you. He wasn’t just pledging interest.

He was positioning himself.

You turned your gaze fully to him, your voice smooth, deliberate. “We will need more support.”

Then—you looked to Zayne.

Not as a question.

As a signal.

And he understood. Instantly.

There was no need to speak it aloud. This was no longer about influence. If they were going to move against the crown prince, it would require more than whispered alliances and political pressure.

It would take force.

You returned your attention to Varyn, your tone unchanged, but your words now edged with steel. “What are your numbers currently?”

A beat passed. The air in the room tightened.

Varyn’s expression didn’t shift, but something sharper moved behind his eyes. He straightened slightly, folding his hands behind his back with practiced grace.

“Just over four hundred. Trained, loyal. Mostly stationed along the outer ridges of the eastern garrison.”

Zayne’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The crown’s been unaware of that positioning.”

Varyn gave a quiet nod. “Because I preferred it that way.”

You studied him. His posture, his tone, his calculated restraint. Varyn wasn’t just some noble clinging to influence—he had been preparing. Waiting for the right time.

Waiting for someone worth backing.

“Four hundred is a start,” you said calmly, eyes locking with his. “But not enough to threaten the throne if he suspects us too soon.”

Zayne stepped forward, his voice lower now. “He won’t. Not yet. He’s too busy trying to keep the court from slipping out of his grip.” He glanced at you. “Let him believe he still has you, and he’ll keep reaching.”

“And when he reaches too far,” you finished, “we break his hand.”

Varyn’s mouth lifted in the faintest smile. “Then I suggest we begin coordinating quietly. My banners will not rise until you give the word—but when they do, they will not fall.”

You nodded once.

Not as permission.

As a pact.

The first of many.

—•

The corridors had long emptied, leaving only the echo of footsteps that were no longer there and the faint whisper of torchlight against stone.

You didn’t speak as you and Zayne walked, the silence stretching between you not out of discomfort, but something else—calculation, anticipation, certainty.

The conversation with Lord Varyn was still fresh. You had crossed a line tonight. One that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Zayne led you into a quiet chamber tucked near the old observatory. A fire already burned in the hearth, its light casting long shadows across the walls. No one else would come here. Not tonight.

You stepped inside first. He followed, and when the door shut behind him, it felt like the world outside ceased to matter.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, Zayne’s voice broke the silence—quiet, but certain.

“That was more than a conversation.”

You turned toward him. “It was a beginning.”

He nodded once, slow. “He’s with us now. One of many we’ll need.”

You stepped toward the fire, your arms folded loosely, your gaze fixed on the flickering flames. “We’ll need more. And we’ll need them to choose us, not just abandon him.”

Zayne stepped beside you, his presence a familiar chill wrapped in steadiness. “They will.”

You looked at him then, studied him. The weight in his eyes, the sharpness of his calm.

“You moved before I ever said yes.”

He didn’t deny it. His mouth quirked in the faintest smirk. “You never needed convincing.”

You let a soft breath escape, something between a sigh and a laugh. “You really were always one step ahead.”

Zayne’s voice dropped, softer now. “Only when it came to you.”

That pulled your gaze back to him. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes—his eyes said everything.

Not strategy. Not power.

You.

And just like that, the heat in the room felt heavier, pressing in with everything unspoken.

Your fingers brushed his, light at first, testing. When he didn’t pull away, you laced them together.

“We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

Zayne’s voice was low, sure. “We already are.”

His hand tightened around yours, grounding you—not just in the moment, but in the war you were both about to wage.

Together.

He stepped a little closer, his other hand brushing your waist, anchoring you. He didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

But his forehead rested against yours, and the air between your lips was shared like a secret.

“Let him hold the empire in his hands,” Zayne murmured, “for a little longer.”

Your voice came softer still. “He won’t see us coming.”

And in the stillness that followed, the war outside the walls felt a little further away.

Because here, in this stolen moment of fire and quiet, you were no longer standing behind the throne.

You were ready to claim it.

The fire crackled softly beside you, casting golden light across the room and painting Zayne’s features in warm, flickering shadows.

His forehead still rested against yours, his hand steady at your waist, grounding you. There was no rush in his touch, no hunger in his silence—just that same undeniable certainty that had followed him since the moment he made his move.

The war outside these walls felt distant now.

But what stood between you felt sharp. Alive. Inevitable.

You drew in a breath, quiet, controlled. “You’ve changed.”

Zayne didn’t pull back. His voice was soft, near your lips. “So have you.”

Your fingers brushed his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You stopped pretending you didn’t want this.”

His mouth quirked, a near-smile. “Because you stopped pretending you didn’t see it.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because everything had already been said in the way you followed him here, in the way you stood this close without flinching.

Because of the way his lips found yours so easily. Measured, ready.

Like he had been waiting.

Like he always knew this moment would come.

Your lips moved with his, quiet but unrelenting, his fingers curling slightly at your side.

The way he touched you wasn’t demanding.

It was decisive.

And you leaned into it.

Into him.

Letting the weight of what had been, and what was coming, melt away just for this breath of time.

When he finally pulled back, his voice came low, rough at the edges. “He’ll come for you.”

You looked up at him, calm and clear. “Let him.”

A beat passed.

“You’re not afraid?”

Your lips brushed his once more, softer this time. “Of him? No.”

Zayne’s smirk returned, sharper now, and he leaned closer, his voice a murmur in your ear.

“Good. Because I don’t plan to let you go.”

You turned toward the fire, still close, still tethered to him by something heavier than touch.

“Then you better be ready to take the empire.”

Zayne’s reply came without pause.

“Only if you’re standing beside me.”

And with that—the moment broke.

Not in silence, not in regret.

But in a quiet, unshakable understanding:

The storm could come.

And you would face it together.

—•

The throne room was thick with tension—stifling, cold, and too still.

Sunlight filtered in through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured light across marble floors, but there was no warmth in it. Only the kind of stillness that came before a storm.

Every noble was summoned without reason.

You stood near the war table, flame-red cloak trailing behind you, chin high. The nobles whispered in tight clusters, casting furtive glances between the throne and where you stood.

And then—he rose.

The crown prince.

He wore black and silver, shoulders squared, the empire’s crest pressed into his chest like a claim. His voice rang out clear and commanding.

“Let the court bear witness.”

Silence fell.

“The alliance between fire and ice shall be bound, as was promised. And before all gathered here, the Princess of Fire will speak her vow. She will take her place at my side—as my future Empress.”

The words were not request.

Not proposal.

They were law.

Murmurs stirred like wind against glass. Some in shock, others nodding, as if they had been waiting for this moment to be forced.

You didn’t move.

You felt the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Challenging. Cornering.

He stepped toward the center of the dais, hands outstretched as if delivering the final blow.

“You swore yourself to the empire. You swore yourself to me. Do not forget what that means.”

Your breath was steady. Controlled. But the heat beneath your skin rose, not in a burst—in a warning.

You stepped forward. Slowly. Each heel against the marble cracked the silence open a little more.

Then you spoke.

“I remember my vow.” You met his eyes. “And I remember who you were when I gave it.”

He blinked. Just once. You saw the flash of something behind his eyes—uncertainty.

“You rule with fear,” you said, voice rising, steady and sharp. “You corner, you command, and now you summon the court like a blade to my throat. And you think this makes you strong?”

His tone dropped, cold and cutting. “It makes me Emperor.”

A hush fell.

You stepped onto the first step of the dais. Then the second. Fire danced around the edges of your cloak—rising, responding, not wild, but watching.

“No,” you said. “It makes you afraid.”

The court held its breath.

“Afraid of losing what you never truly held.”

He stared, unmoving, but his hands curled into fists. Frost bloomed at his feet—uncontrolled, jagged.

“You are mine by oath.”

Without missing a beat, “I am no one’s possession.”

Then—you raised your hand.

The flames at the torches lining the hall burst higher, bright enough to draw startled gasps.

You turned, slowly, addressing the court.

“Let all present remember this day.” Your voice echoed through the chamber. “I was promised to power, not to fear. I was promised to the empire, not to its heir.”

And then—you looked him in the eye.

“I am fire as I am fury. I am not yours.”

The court broke.

Some nobles stepped back. Others exchanged hurried whispers. The divide had been drawn—clear, irreparable.

And from the far side of the chamber, Zayne moved. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He was already walking toward you.

The crown prince said nothing as you stepped down from the dais—as you passed him without pause.

But the cold from where he stood clung to the floor, sharp and silent.

He knew.

This was the beginning of the end.

Your footsteps echoed as you descended the dais, the flames trailing in your wake slowly dimming, falling quiet. The chamber buzzed, tension strung tight across every noble’s shoulders. A line had been drawn.

And everyone knew it.

The crown prince did not speak immediately. He stood frozen at the center of the dais, expression unreadable. But the frost at his feet crept outward, curling across the marble like veins of ice cracking beneath glass.

Then—his voice rang out, louder than before. Cold. Commanding.

“You would humiliate the crown before the court?”

You stopped walking. Slowly, you turned to face him again.

“I simply speak the truth.”

His jaw clenched. His hands were at his sides, but tight, trembling with restrained fury.

“You insult your title. You insult the unity our fathers built. You insult me.”

“Then perhaps you should ask why so much crumbles around you,” you replied, “every time you try to hold it.”

A gasp from somewhere in the court. The frost reached the base of the war table, creeping up its legs.

The prince stepped forward now, descending one step from the dais, his voice sharp with something darker than pride.

“Enough.”

You didn’t flinch.

“You defy the throne,” he continued. “You defy your duty.”

“No,” you said evenly. “I defy you.”

The frost snapped, a crack tearing through the marble beneath his feet as the chill in the room surged outward, reaching toward you. A few nobles stepped back instinctively. Some didn’t move at all—afraid of taking the wrong side.

But, for the first time, the crown prince truly dropped his mask.

His voice echoed with cold power. “Then you will be stripped of your station.”

The court gasped again.

“You walk away from your vow?” His eyes burned with fury, but his voice remained deathly still.

“Then you walk away from everything. From your title, from the council, from the court.”

Silence.

Heavy. Thick.

Even the fire dimmed.

But before anyone could react—another voice cut through.

“That decision isn’t yours to make.”

Zayne.

He stepped forward, his hands behind his back, his face calm, but his eyes—glacial. Unmoving. Dangerous.

The room turned.

The crown prince’s gaze snapped to him.

“You dare speak for her?”

“I don’t need to,” Zayne said smoothly. He glanced at you, then returned his gaze to his brother. “But you’re not the Emperor. Not yet. Perhaps, if you try acting like it.”

A thin crack of frost spread toward Zayne’s feet, but he didn’t move. He simply smiled—slow, deliberate.

“Let the court remember this day,” he said softly. “You tried to silence fire.”

He paused.

“And you burned for it.”

The tension broke.

Court erupted—raised voices, divided loyalties, the nobles now forced to choose where they stood.

You turned from the dais once more. Zayne was already beside you. No words exchanged. Just a shared glance.

The war had truly begun.

And the empire would never be whole again.

—•

The court had descended into chaos.

Not the kind with blades and blood—not yet.

Because in the world of nobles and crowns, whispers were sharper than swords, and every word spoken in that throne room now carried the weight of a kingdom.

In the days that followed, the ripple became a wave.

Some houses backed away from the court entirely, withdrawing their banners under the guise of “neutrality.” Others aligned themselves more openly—some with Zayne, some with the crown prince, but very few dared to remain undecided.

The empire had fractured. Not with fire, not with ice—but with choice.

Behind closed doors, secret meetings unfolded. Promises were made. Old alliances were tested.

Some shattered.

Others quietly re-formed beneath new names.

Zayne moved swiftly.

Where the crown prince ruled with cold commands, Zayne dealt in quiet confidence, gathering influence not through fear but through certainty—the kind of certainty that made men believe the crown might sit better on someone else.

And beside him stood you.

No longer just the Princess of Fire, no longer just a political tool to be passed between kingdoms.

You had become something else—a symbol. A storm.

A threat. One that cannot be ignored.

Your refusal in court had changed everything. You had burned away the illusion of unity. And from its ashes, a war for the future of the empire had begun.

Whispers of rebellion rose in the eastern provinces, where Varyn’s banners gathered in silence. Scribes in the capital noted an unusual number of military transfers.

And more than one noble who had once spoken in favor of the crown prince now remained conspicuously quiet.

But in the palace, the most dangerous game was still being played.

Zayne and the crown prince walked the same halls.

Sat at the same council meetings.

Smiled with the same teeth.

But every word was a test.

Every look a blade.

And you?

You were the spark between them.

Chosen.

Feared.

Watched.

Not for what you were.

But for what you might become.

The tipping point.

The war hadn’t broken out.

Not yet. But it was coming.

And everyone knew, the first true strike would not be made with steel—but with a decision.

The sun was setting when you found him again.

Not in the war chamber, not in the shadowed corridors where deals whispered to life, but on the old terrace overlooking the southern cliffs. The wind carried the salt of the sea and the scent of old stone warmed by the sun.

Zayne stood alone, arms braced on the stone railing, cloak drifting with the breeze. He didn’t turn at your approach. He didn’t have to.

He always knew when it was you.

You stepped beside him, the silence between you familiar now.

Not heavy. Not uncertain.

Shared.

Below, the waves crashed against jagged rock, constant and restless.

“You’ve set it in motion,” you said, voice low.

Zayne didn’t flinch. “So have you.”

You watched the ocean for a moment longer, then turned your eyes to him. He looked calm—too calm for a man who had just thrown the empire into quiet revolt.

But you knew better.

“You always knew it would come to this.”

He finally looked at you, eyes cool and unreadable. “I didn’t want it to.”

“But you prepared for it.”

A pause.

His lips quirked, dry and humorless. “Because I knew he would force our hand. Eventually.”

You studied him—this man who wore silence like armor, who spoke in strategy and subtle defiance, who had once stood in the shadows and now stood at your side, unapologetic.

“You move like someone used to being overlooked,” you said. “But you’re not hiding anymore.”

Zayne’s gaze dropped briefly to your hand resting on the edge of the stone, then back to your face. “I never hid from you.”

The words weren’t soft. They were true.

You drew in a breath, letting it sit in your chest for a moment before releasing it. “Everything’s changed.”

“It had to.”

You leaned in, just slightly, voice a murmur between you. “They’re going to come for us.”

“Then let them.”

His words were quiet, but beneath them was steel.

The same kind you’d seen in his eyes the day you first defied the court together.

You watched him for a long moment.

Then—your hand found his.

No grand gesture. No declarations. Just a steady, simple touch.

And he let it happen.

Because this wasn’t a moment of passion or politics. This was acknowledgment.

Of what you were.

Of what he had become.

Of what you were becoming—together.

The silence stretched again, this time comfortable, a lull before the tide rose.

“We’ve crossed the line,” you said finally.

Zayne’s hand tightened around yours.

“Then we don’t go back.”

You smile, nodding down at nothing.

The sea rolled below you, endless and indifferent, its rhythm the only constant in a world that had shifted beneath your feet.

Zayne’s hand remained in yours, steady. Unyielding.

But your gaze was distant now, fixed on the horizon where fire-tinted clouds met water.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” you said, voice quiet. “Not like this.”

Zayne didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence gave you room.

“There was a time I thought I could live within the system. Be what they needed me to be. Marry him. Stand beside the throne. Try to change things from inside the cage.” You exhaled, the memory bitter at the edges. “I thought that would be enough.”

Your fingers tightened around the stone railing, knuckles white.

“I wore the crown they gave me. I smiled when they told me to. I said nothing when they looked at me like a weapon wrapped in silk.”

Zayne turned his head slightly, watching you—not with pity, but with that quiet attention he always offered when your walls cracked.

“And when you stopped?” he asked softly.

You huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “When I realized no matter how still I stood, they were always going to set me on fire.”

He was silent again. But he moved closer, his shoulder brushing yours. His presence an anchor.

“And now you’re burning everything down,” he murmured.

You looked at him then, and there was no regret in your eyes—only truth.

“No. I’m just refusing to be the thing they strike a match against.”

Zayne’s lips twitched—just enough to be something like approval.

“You were always going to reach this point. You just didn’t want to be the one to start the fire.”

You nodded slowly, your voice softer now. “Because once it starts, it doesn’t stop.”

He turned fully toward you, his hand rising to tuck a piece of wind-tossed hair behind your ear.

“Then we make sure it burns the right things.”

You didn’t look away.

Because in that moment, you both understood—this was no longer about power. It never really had been.

It was about freedom.

About choice.

And about the fact that neither of you were willing to stand back while the empire collapsed under the weight of someone else’s crown.

“Then we see it through,” you said.

Zayne’s eyes held yours. “Together.”

And with that word, the fire you had been trying to contain didn’t feel like a burden anymore.

It felt like purpose.

The wind shifted, brushing against your cheeks with salt and dusk and the faintest chill.

Zayne hadn’t moved. Not really. But you could feel it—how present he was.

How still.

And yet, inside you, there was a flicker of something else.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

But guilt.

Your gaze dropped to where your hand still rested in his. You traced the shape of his fingers with your thumb, quietly, before you spoke.

“I know you didn’t want this.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you. Saying nothing.

“You never cared for power. You were content to stand in the shadows, to pull the strings and let your brother wear the crown.” Your voice dipped, softer now, heavy.

“But now you’re stepping into the fire. Into something that was never meant to be yours.”

Still, he didn’t speak.

So you went on.

“And I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me.”

His brow twitched, almost imperceptibly. But his hand didn’t pull away.

“I dragged you into this.” You swallowed. “I made a choice in that court. I struck the match, and now the whole empire’s watching to see if it burns. I didn’t mean for it to fall on you.”

Zayne’s fingers tightened around yours—not harshly, but enough to make you stop. To feel him.

“You didn’t drag me anywhere.”

You looked up, and there it was again—that quiet, unshakable certainty.

“I stepped forward the moment I saw the path.” He paused, eyes locked on yours. “And if I’m walking it beside you, it’s not a burden. It’s a choice.”

The words sank into you slowly, like warmth returning to frozen skin.

But still, something in you resisted.

“You’ve already sacrificed more than you ever intended to.”

Zayne gave a faint breath of something like a laugh—barely audible. “I’ve only ever sacrificed what was worth letting go.”

A pause. He leaned in, his voice quieter now, just for you.

“But I’ve never once considered letting go of you.”

Your throat tightened. The weight of it—his resolve, his loyalty, the way he never asked for thanks, never asked for anything, not even now—it settled into your chest like something too sacred to name.

You reached up and placed your hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath your palm.

“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance.”

Zayne smiled then, slow and sure. “You should know by now, I don’t run from fire.”

And you believed him.

Because he never had.

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