#So now I have to make everything from scratch

[nekonaps0]

The mood is gone pt1

✦part2 part3

✦gn!reader

✦ characters: Trey, Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Idia, Lilia

✦slightly smut

✦how the boys would react when things are just about to get heated with their beloved… and then bam! someone barges in, killing the mood.

Trey Clover

Everything was perfect. The kitchen was quiet, the air thick with sugar and tension, and Trey had you backed against the counter, voice low and teasing as his lips brushed your ear.

“You taste sweeter than anything I’ve ever baked…”

His hands slid around your waist, lips ghosting along your jawline when—


CRASH.

“YO TREY! Did you put those tarts in the oven—”

Ace burst through the door, freezing when he spotted the two of you tangled together like frosting on warm cake.

Trey jolted back with an awkward chuckle, eyes wide.

“Ace—!”

“Oh. Ohhh. My bad. Real bad. Continue. Or not. I’ll just—bye!�� slams door

You sighed, untangling from Trey’s arms.

“Yeah… the mood’s gone, thanks Ace…”

you muttered and left, cheeks flushed in irritation.

Trey stood there, stunned for a second. Then, quietly:

“Ace is never eating anything I bake again.”

Later that night, he showed up at your dorm with a slice of your favorite pie and the softest apology kisses you’ve ever tasted.

Leona Kingscholar

The sun was setting over the sands of Savannaclaw’s yard, but inside Leona’s dorm room? The heat was from something entirely different.

You were pinned beneath him, his voice low and growly as he nipped at your throat, smirking when you shivered.

“Told ya I could make you purr, herbivore…”

But then—


BANG

“Oi, Leona! You left your stupid practice schedule out and now Vargas is—”


Ruggie’s voice froze mid-sentence.

Leona slowly lifted his head from your neck, and Ruggie turned a delightful shade of oh no.

“...My bad, boss.”

You wriggled free, cheeks hot and mood completely dead.

“Well, that’s ruined. The mood’s gone. Good bye Leona.”

You left with a sigh. Leona blinked once.

Then:

“Ruggie.”

“...Yeah?”

“You’re cleaning the training yard alone for a month...”

“Yeah… I know that’s coming… shit…”

Later that night, Leona tracked you down and wordlessly pulled you into his lap, whispering against your collarbone:

“Let me fix the mood. Right now.”

Floyd Leech

You were breathless, half-laughing and squirming beneath Floyd on his bed. His fingers grazed your thigh, teeth just barely nipping your earlobe as he growled:

“Shrimpy looks so biteable tonight…”

Your fingers tangled in his shirt. His knee nudged yours apart—

Knock knock. Door opens anyway.

“Floyd, Azul wanted to remind you to—”


Jade blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

“Ah. You’re... busy. My bad.”

Floyd turned his head slowly.

“Jade...”

“Just passing through.” click Door closes.

You groaned, shoving your face into Floyd’s chest.

“Mood’s gone,” you muttered. “Completely gone.”

You stood and left. Floyd looked betrayed.

“But shrimpy...! We were at the good part… nooo…!”

Later that night, he pouted on your bed, peppering you with annoyed kisses like a sad eel.

“Stupid Jade. Mood killer. I’ll get you back in the mood, Shrimpy... even if I gotta start from scratch~”

Jamil Viper

The music was slow, the lights low, and Jamil had you caged against his room wall, voice husky with restraint as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me…?”

He kissed you, hot and firm. Your hands slid under his shirt—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—BANG.

“Jamil!! Are you in here?! I learned a new trick with the flying carpet and—OH!”

Kalim stood in the doorway, eyes wide with genuine innocence.

You gasped, pushing Jamil back.

“Kalim!” You both screamed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! You two looked busy!” door slams shut

You straightened your clothes, flustered and groaning.

“thanks to Kalim…Mood’s gone. Se you later Jamil.”

You left. Jamil stood frozen for three seconds.

“...I’m going to hex that carpet.”

Later, he cornered you in the hallway, muttering

“Im sorry for what happened, I’ll triple-lock the door next time.”

Idia Shroud

You were in his room… yes, the room. The glowing screens, and Idia looking like he might combust from how hard he was trying to be smooth.

“Uhh... so... if you wanted to, like, maybe... take this to, um, level 18?”

Your lips were already on his. His hair flickered neon pink as his hands trembled on your waist—

DING DING!


Ortho's voice chirped from behind the closed door

“Big Brother! You said you’d test my new program pack today! Should I come in—?”

“NOOOOOOO—!!”

Idia dove off you so fast he might’ve phased into the digital plane.

You blinked.

“Yeah. That killed it. Mood’s gone. I think it would be better if I go now.”

And you walked out. He groaned into a pillow, hair now a dull blue.

“I’m gonna fake my own death. Then I’ll haunt the server room and live in eternal shame.”

Later, he shyly tapped on your door with snacks and a very nervous

“I promise… it’s never gonna happen again…”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia had you right where he wanted you—against his chest, your breath shallow, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Careful, my love. Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to bite…”

You squeaked. He smirked.

“So delicious when you tremble.”

His hands wandered lower when—


SLAM.

“LILIA-SAMA!? I HEARD STRANGE SOUNDS—!”

Sebek burst in, wild-eyed and shouting.

“Sebek!” you both yelled at once.

You scrambled away from Lilia, flushed and fuming.

“Mood’s gone. I’m done! Bye.”

You stormed out while Lilia slowly turned to Sebek, a twitch in his brow.

“...boy… we gonna have a really fun training tomorrow… I hope you’re ready.”

Later, Lilia showed up at your window, upside-down, charming as ever.

“Now... where were we, my dear~?”

..............................................................................................................................

[yunalinwrites]

one of my fav kdramas (called youre beautiful) is abt a girl joining a boy band and pretending to be a boy ohshc style except her fellow members dont know and she has to somehow live with them while hiding it 😭 it's so wattpad i love

so imagine being fem!reader sharing a dorm with the saja boys while trying not to get found out

of course u cant hide forever tho so this is how i think you'd get found out and how they'd react:

❓ mystery knew from the start. you didnt realize he was scrutinizing you so closely bc of them fuck ass bangs but from the day you met he could tell just by looking at you. but, much like he does about everything, he kept quiet because he didnt want to freak you out. he found it cute though, every time you'd slip up and get all flustered trying to cover up why you were staring at the dresses at the mall or why you were caught buying pads. so, he'd just smile, pat your head, and calmly help you make excuses. if you walk into the wrong room at the wrong time he'll quietly direct you to a gender neutral bathroom or drape a towel over your eyes whenever the guys got too... carefree in the locker room. lowk helps you hide it from the other members bc he likes it being his little secret

🍼 baby also found out pretty early but also like not really? he walked in on you in the bathroom once and was like "mb" and then he thought about it and was like "wait a sec..." but then he just shrugged it off. and since then for a while in the back of his head he would catch the way you walk or the way you sit or the way your eyelashes look against your cheek and for a split second would think like "is he a chick?" but he never really came to a conclusion bc he just dont gaf. dude or not he treats you pretty much the same. once everyone else starts figuring it out tho thats when he starts acknowledging it. now that everyone else seems to treat you differently as a girl, he starts questioning how to feel or act around you...

💪 abby started rough housing with the other boys and tried to pull you in. lifted you up and not only were you lighter than he expected, your bodies were right up against each other. you did your best to bind your tits down but when you were chest to chest like this it was still noticeable. he awkwardly puts you down and scratches the back of his neck, mumbling an apology. for the next few days his brain is fried thinking about it. he never verbally acknowledges it but he starts being super gentle around you and treating you like you're fragile. feels the need to protect you physically, even if its against the other boys. always keeping watch to make sure they're gentle with you as well.

✨ jinu overhears you out yourself on the phone somehow and is so mad and so flustered at the same time. he's afraid you're going to be a liability if the fans find out and its gonna be a pain to hide but behind all that anger he's just scared of women fr. blushes every time he remembers you're a girl. every time you end up together alone in the living room or catch each other in the hallway, brushing each others shoulders in the slightest, he turns bright red and freaks tf out. somehow though he finds it easier to connect with you emotionally as a girl. with other guys it sometimes feels weird to be vulnerable, but you don't seem to have that shame at all. he admires it. gwi ma probably forced you into this situation so he empathizes with you.

🫶 romance liked to ask you all the time about your love life. asking what your type is, ideal date, dream wedding, do you want kids, etc. you figured it would be safest to just pretend you were a straight dude who liked girls. he wouldnt have cared though. he was starting to feel a little something for you even before you revealed yourself as a girl but refrained from going down that route to stay professional. but when you do reveal yourself as a girl it starts to get even harder to keep that boundary.

🥤 overall once they figure it out none of them tell each other or really say it aloud bc of the implications it has. but they all show it through actions like making sure you're fed and hydrated, letting you use the shower first, asking you if you need a break during rehearsal, etc. but trust, once they all start offering to help you at the same time--like all of them reaching to lend you their marker during fan signings when yours goes dry or surrounding you with 5 different choices of hoodie when you mention you're cold--they start getting real jealous and possessive real soon; they all want to be the one and only you rely on.

eventually though when they all reveal that they all know and everyone's on the same page, they start working together to protect you. all 5 of them wrapped around ur finger 😋 but still fighting for your attention

a/n: ugh i wish i had time/energy to do this properly along w all my other fics for kpdh (this movie has taken over my life) but idk i prob wont LOLL if anyone else wants to build off of this plz go ahead and tag me

UPDATE !!! PROLOGUE OUT NOW 🤑

also masterlist

[dmitriene]

Maybe something with poor birdie having an anorgasmia (unable to cum or it taking a long time) and price (or whoever you want to write for) trying to fix it

i apologize it took me so long to finally write, but i do hope you'll see this and enjoy!

cw: anorgasmia, some stress and mentions of unhealthy relationships, john doesn't cures reader but they find a way to work, sex and comfort, strangers to lovers or something similar, my knowledge of the disorder comes from internet.

any disorder can make a person feel different, broken, wrong — not like everyone else, not as expected, and even if it is a trifle that can be cured, worked out, or just needs more effort, it will still make many people treat you with a kind of hostility, consider you as if you were an object of study under a microscope, and you are no exception.

anorgasmia shouldn't have been the problem that it really turned out to be, because there's nothing unusual or really terrible about having difficulty having an orgasm, you need a little more time, a little more attention, understanding, because the pleasure of sex doesn't go away, it's just that your body's reaction is slightly different.

or so you thought, but all your relationships collapsed like sand towers, washed away by the tide as soon as you failed to give your partner the expected reaction, sobbing moans, rolling, wet eyes and shaking from the spasms of a strong orgasm thighs, no, with most of them it either did not exist, or it was not so expectedly grandiose, a small splash, a little trembling all over the body, then silence and a dissatisfied grimace on the face, looming over you in anticipation.

dysfunctional, they spat bile and animalistic hisses, as if it was kind of an insult to them, although you never threw it on them, you know it's just your problem, let them know, looking at the sparkling eyes and proudly puffing chest — when they said that you slept with the wrong people, that they will definitely be able to make you drown in your climax and unearthly pleasure, but in the end, everything is the same.

you didn't let it parasitize your mental health, but you stopped looking for sex and turned away any attempts to start a relationship, preferring to therapy and numerous consultations, learning different techniques of self stimulation, erotic media and countless sex toys, and little by little, it became easier, but still, you were different, your pleasure more imperceptible, easy flowing, a short flicker, until you met john at another boredom night.

johathan price, as he introduced himself, is a charming man — a type that is found in romcoms, easy going, charming, a man big and strong, adorned with his age in the form of gray hair the color of cigarette ashes, neat beard and a mustache, deep wrinkles in the corners of his purest blue eyes, softness in the once steel strong muscles, which are now protected by a small weight, smoky laughter, scars on his arms and body that speak of the years spent on the battlefield, and yet he lost neither his beauty nor his sanity.

a natural, he communicates with a special ease that attracts the attention of everyone around him, as if a charm has been unleashed in the room, tactile, and his physical contact most likely confused more than one innocent young lamb, and you are no exception, not in front of him, not when he has already managed to see all your innermost secrets, seep through locked doors and rusty keyholes, undressing you layer by layer, sweet speech, warm drinks, a heavy and warm hand on your knee until you give in.

you promised, but john's kisses are as tart as whiskey and cigars, sweeter than honey and candies that burn the palate, his touches are deep, digging nails and fingers into the softness of the flesh, and at the same time stroking along all the curves, softening, he smells of something woody sea, tickling the nose and neck, where his beard scratches sensitively, chasing the kisses and bites, blossoming flowers of hickeys left behind, making you arch towards him pliantly, cling to his broad shoulders and strong forearms.

john lays you out in front of him more easily than poker cards, puts you back together easier than tetris, looks at a naked, vulnerable body with an undisguised, smoldering desire and a clear plan, not allowing himself a drop of pleasure until he satisfies you in the first place, no matter how hurting his cock looks, swollen and blazing rudy, beading pearls of leaking precum, heavy between his hairy legs, bracketing yours, as if to cage.

even when you pull at his hair, sighing languidly and moaning softly — telling him that it will take too long, it's not worth it, his growl shuts you up with a shudder of your spine, his calloused fingers running through the sopping mess of your cunt, stroking the folds, slippery and wet, fluttering at the touch along with the clench of your hole, needy and pulsating, eager for his hands and mouth as he get's to his work.

slick smeared all the way up to your labia, glistening all over your flesh, your thighs, as john's thumb runs up your sex in wonder, assessing, staining sticky and salty, savoring your tiny reactions, little twitches, shudders, sensitive keens from above, relaxing you to the point where you slip along the edges of your bubble, hazy and malleable, and only then he gives your cunt his mouth.

licking hungrily up the seam of your cunt, the savory taste coating his tongue right away, pulling a thundering groan, as he laves over, sucking at the hardened little nub he bumps into, slurping in his hot, drooling mouth, as your slick starts matting his messed beard, while you throb beneath his swelling lips, making him alternate between sucking and lapping up what slick gushes from you in shining rivulets, your body brimming with need, pleasure rolling in, arousal so sudden and strong your blood feels thick with it.

it's comes harder, this time, maybe because you denied yourself a person's sexual contact for too long, but this time, you cum with your legs clamping tight from being unable to fight this electricity, zapping through your whole body as you flood john's mouth with your slick, your back bowing, crumpling the sheets below as you almost hit your head against the headboard, his warm palm settling over the top, shielding, as you hiccup a chorus of moans, under the rasping coo of his voice, no note of being full of himself, cocky, just sweet encouragement of you.

only then, when sure that you've been at the throes of your pleasure, john acknowledges the bobbing weight of his painfully engorged, hard cock, wrapping a calloused palm around the length, slicked from the amount of pre his skin is coated in, jerking once, twice, thumbing against his slit with a huffed grunt of pleasure, before lining towards your gaping hole, the messy curls of his pubic hair brushing against your tingling, now sensitive skin, as you stretch around the girth of him, feeded gently till he's bottoming out.

mind still sluggish with lust, you push your his hips down, trying to take more, to make the deliciously slow thrusts turn into something more, rougher, as your blood sings for it, so john pulls back, lifts your hips, grip more bruising, and blessedly pumps you deep, crowding, cocooning you with his big, brawny body, snapping his broad hips harder and harder, the force echoing as a slaps of skin on skin, the wet squelches, the once again growing pressure inside your stomach is immaculate, heavy.

bodies flush together, john rocks gently into your tight heat, trying to prolong this pleasure, feeling, how you get closer again, so much quicker than any usual, the feeling of it overwhelming you, making your body trash, head hitting the pillows beneath, but he's heavy over your body, and it's comforts you, in a way, as chapped lips kiss your shoulder, and then he nuzzles against your temple.

breathing you in, smearing away your sweat, as you tremble with the need to cum, gasping for it, rocking, clenching with a shuddering twitch of your hips, sensitive and primed for another orgasm, and when your head rolls back with an arch of your kiss bitten neck, white hot pleasure blurring your vision, your every muscle tenses and then you come again, erupting in what feels like a torrent, and john whispers only lulling comfort and proud syllables, groaning deep as he cums himself, shuddering with you.

you're left feeling spent, muscles going lax, sagging into the mattress and crumpled bedding below, it's like your mind gotten into submission, too knocked out by onslaught of all the feelings that your system shut down, and you won't even move to rise up, john's breath coming up close, hard and puffing, as he kisses the marks over your throat as you recover, white spots still dotting the vision, legs unresponsive, so you just curl, and he drags his mouth over your warm skin, each kiss as a reward.

he won't say too much, wouldn't even bring what happened during sex, he has no permission to, no control over your body, it's only your merit that you trusted, relaxed, let the pleasure slip through your fingertips and climb higher, even if slowly, john just happened to be there at the right time, and he won't oblige you to anything, as you slowly fall asleep in his arms — but if you'll linger in the morning instead of disappearing away, he won't mind cooking you breakfast.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[yamysunmoon]

My treasure

Pairing: jenna x fem!reader

Words: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a drabble bruh)

Summary: Jenna has an event and her look doesn't disappoint. On the way there, you get... Handsy.

a/n: couldn't think of a specific fit of hers so choose your fighter.

MASTERLIST

Your phone buzzes with a new message from Jenna's agent.

"where is she? We're waiting at the entrance! She has to leave the building now!"

You look up at the bathroom door closed in front of you.

"Jenna, your agent is going insane. You're gonna be late yet for another event and—"

The door opens, revealing Jenna clad in a breathtakingly beautiful dress. It's highlighting evert perfect curve, hugging her body the exact right way.

Your jaw drops just a bit, mouth ajar, lips parted. Your gaze drifts across her body. She lifts her arms, smirking in that particular way of hers. "You like it?"

You look up at her. Her hairstylist gets out of the bathroom behind her, carrying her things. "I like you" you correct her, ignoring the fact that you two are not alone.

She comes closer to you, with that playful glint in her eyes. The hairstylist exists the room, leaving you alone.

Your hands find her waist authomatically, the gesture already memorized, treasured in a special spot in your brain.

"You look incredible" you say softer, almost a murmur. She looks up at you, and her playful stare turns tender.

You lean in but she stops you, her hands on your chest. "The lipstick." She whispers, and she giggles a bit when you give her a grumpy glance.

"Hmmm..." You groan, your previous devotion shifting to soft annoyance.

Your phone buzzes again in your pocket. "We gotta go anyways" you murmur.

You lean back, but one of your hands remain on her waist as you lead her out of the hotel room.

She follows your guidance, as she usually does. You check her out bluntly when she passes by you, which doesn't go unnoticed for her.

Admiring her perfect ass, your eyes find hers when you look up, briefly glancing at you over her shoulder. You both chuckle softly, one of her hands finds yours and leads you to the elevator.

She turns around slowly once there, and now you cup her neck with both hands, almost capable of feeling the particles of warm air fillling the distance between you. Neither of you say a thing, but the tension becomes dense in that reduced space.

She parts her crimson lips, tilts her head just enough for the tendons of her neck to tense seductively, and her collarbone is prominent when she inhales deeply, then lets the air go out a profound sigh.

You scan every one of this details as in trying to know everything about her by heart. Every single touch. Her gleaming skin, and that soft, elegant perfume.

"You can't look at me like that and expect me not to kiss you" you whisper in a husky voice.

It's not intentional, but as you say those words, you take some steps forward, causing her to press her back against the wall behind her ever so softly.

"Like what?" She coos, looking up at you with that innocent sparkle, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Exactly like that" you murmur, more to yourself.

She lets out a breathy chuckle. You can feel her dimples under your thumbs.

Your eyes meet again, and the teasing glint in her eyes subsides. Pure adoration and smoldering passion replace it.

You could get lost in that stare. You have, indeed, done that already. Purposefully. Inevitably.

You feel her hands hold onto your shirt, exactly above the waistband of your pants. You feel her nails gently scratching your waist through the fabric.

You know what that grip means. That quiet, raw passion she always has inside of her, burning. That untamed desire she usually keeps on point, but occasionally invades her.

You know what she needs.

"I swear, the moment we get back here..."

The elevator makes a sound, indicating you've reached the main hall. The doors opens, and her grip looses until her hands fall languidly to her sides.

You give her chin a shallow caress with your thumbs before finally letting go.

"When we get back here...?" she asks suggestively, glancing briefly at your lips before gently pushing you away and walking out of the elevator.

You follow her. She chats briefly with her agent before the main doors, then the agent gets out before her, a horde of paparazzis are waiting outside.

You lean closer to her, your lips graze her ear as you whisper "When we get back here... I'll show you just how easily I can take off all of this," you gesture at her clothes, "those that took that long to put on".

She glances at you almost imperceptibly, raising one of her eyebrows ever so slightly. Her lips curl up into a sideways smile.

But she doesn't say anything. You know you make her speechless when you say things like that.

Instead, she lifts her chin, defiant, already getting into character, into her celebrity persona. "We'll see" she says playfully, looking outside.

You shake your head and chuckle. "Sure... We'll see" You step outside, before her.

The cameras ignore you, but just as you reach the car, you hear the frantic clicking behind you, letting you know Jenna is following you.

"Jenna! Jenna, over here please! Beautiful!"

You open the door for her and wait patiently. You smile softly, admiring her pose. She has her hands on her waist, one foot before the other, and she tilts her head here and there, taking a moment to pose for them all.

Just as she's turning her head, she notices you and her gaze softens, and she truly smiles. To you.

She walks towards you, "thank you, pretty girl" she flirts as she steps into the car.

"Oh, she treats her so well" a fan comments, referring to you just as you get inside and close the door. You can't help but to smile slyly.

As you go through the city, you look through the window with Jenna resting against your shoulder, both of her hands possessively cupping one of yours.

"Hey" you comment, turning to look down at her. "You don't usually pose that much for paparazzis, right? Especially in a day like this, where we're in a hurry".

You notice the dimple forming in her cheek, even if you can't fully see her face.

"I don't" she says plainly, in a soft voice. "But you were watching."

Your breath hitches for a moment, and you squeeze her hand. She looks up, with that stare again.

You can't resist.

You gently push her against the seat, one of your hands wandering along her thighs, fingers splayed out, pressing teasingly.

She looks surprised, but she lets you continue, her hands gently grabbing your sides.

You lean forward, giving her a lustful, passionate stare before you tilt your head, going for her neck.

Your gestures are paused, calm, slow. Tracing her neck with gentle peck kisses, brushing your nose against her pulse point.

She's stiff, tense. Incapable of giving in to her desires, being fully aware of where she's heading. Of who she is, who she has to be.

But you make her mind go blurry sometimes. She closes her eyes, lost in sensations, and for a moment she forgets who she has to be for everybody, instead she can only think of you, of who she is with you.

Your kisses grow, pressing your lips against her perfumed skin for long seconds now.

You feel her arms around your shoulders. She whimpers your name, in a weak warning. "Baby..." She whines against your ear, her voice husky and high.

Your hand continues roaming over her skin, making the silky fabric slip up. Your knuckles graze her panties covering her mound, and she jolts. "Babe...!" She scolds, but her hug tightens around your neck.

"Trust me, I'm trying..." You murmur before tracing her jawline with your nose.

"No, not there" she murmurs, leaning back, shivering a little. "You're gonna ruin my makeup, dork" she says beaming.

You take a moment to admire her relaxed expression, with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. Her breathing is a little labored, soft puffs leave her full, crimson lips.

Still looking at her, you move your fingers a bit, this time grazing her panties with full intention.

She jolts again and pulls her hips back. "Stop..." She scolds again, her voice now low. But her smirk remains. You spread your fingers a bit, and trace her slit.

Her expressions melts into a beautiful mix of pleasure and delight. Her smile curling into a silent moan, she throws her head back slowly, and looks at you through hooded eyes. She drives you nuts.

You groan. "Hmm, you're such a tease..."

And even if you two are still looking deeply into eachother's eyes, you can hear the racket outside.

After a final trace, you withdraw your hand, not before leaving gentle caresses all over her thigh.

You break eye contact only to look down and help her fix the dress, pulling it down back to place. You don't notice her loving, heart eyes on you as you do so.

She fixes her hair as well, even if there's nothing to fix. "Hey, it's okay. I was good, alright?" you joke, giving her a teasing smile.

She glares at you playfully. "Mhm..."

Even if she's comfortable with you, you can tell she's now getting nervous.

You're now in the car queue, getting closer and closer to the event.

She looks outside, sitting straight, hands on her lap, waiting. Tense.

You give her a soothing touch on her arm. "Hey" you call her softly.

Slowly, she turns her head. She tilts it, listening. You smile sweetly.

"You're looking stunning. Nobody here is taking away from your beauty, your talent or your kindness."

The car continues moving, now it's almost time. Her expression relaxes the moment she looks at you and hears your words.

"So, don't worry, my love. You've got it."

She smiles, completely in love.

"Damn you, you earned a kiss" she murmurs leaning forward.

You have the right time to chuckle smugly, but before you can use that sharp mouth of yours, she silences you with a soft, intentional kiss on the lips.

She leans back seconds after. "And your makeup?" You tease, raising an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes and leans back. "I'm sure Melanie can fix it" she comments, turning around to open her car door.

People outside immediately call her name. Excited shouts reach your ears. And you know, they might love the idea of her, but you love her. And that, is yours to treasure.

a/n: Maybe you're gonna beg for a part 2. Well, beg harder.

Taglist: @ijustlovemaths @babyhumanoidpsychicnerd @ortegalvr @2thamax @oxt3n @paulvalmont @lightningirlz @bellward3456 @lailathegayqueeeen @avaseye @dequiem @bbygrl008 @red1culous @bella423 @jennassamoanwife @ttoxicbumper012

[rokiibrok]

Gentle Scratches

Smut with a plot.

Caleb x you

synap: After getting bruised in a fight with wanderers, Caleb offers to clean you up, leading to undeniable sexual tension.

The phone in your back pocket vibrated repeatedly. When you finally took it out, a very enthusiastic voice greeted you.

“Hey, pipsqueak, what are you up to?” You could almost imagine him twirling his hair like some excited teenage girl.

“Running a few errands, I hope you’re still free after,”

“I already cleared the rest of my schedule for you,” which wasn’t as easy as he made it sound.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear.

He let out a slow, exaggerated sigh. " Boring colonel paperwork," His pen now twirling in his fingers.

"I would have thought you'd always be on your feet, stressing about something," you replied with a teasing tone.

“No, most of the time-” He paused. You could hear a faint knock before another voice started speaking. They sounded almost panicked as they rushed their words out. But you couldn’t make out a single sentence. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I have to go. Make sure to call me when you get to Skyhaven,”

You responded with a quick will do before ending the line.

You finally finished all your errands, but unfortunately, a hunter never gets a day off. Shortly after your watch pinged, Wanderers appeared. You quickly pulled out your gun, keeping an eye out for the fleeing people while also trying to contain the Wanderers and protect the rest of the city. The fight ended quickly, but you didn’t come away unscathed. Keeping people safe while fighting wasn’t easy; you had bruises, scratches, and some minor bleeding, but nothing life-threatening. An ambulance arrived and offered to take you to the hospital, but you declined; you were used to a few bruises by now. Finally, after everything, you arrived in Skyhaven, feeling relieved to have made it.

You didn’t even have enough time to click Caleb’s name on your phone before your name was called. The excitement in his voice cut off immediately.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He rushed towards you. His hand was hovering slightly above your face. His voice was stern.

“Just a bit exhausted,” You looked up at him, his brows furrowed. His hand finally cupped your cheeks ever so gently. He turned your face left, then right, slowly. “I’m fine, I swear,” you smiled, hoping it would ease the tension a bit.

“Was it Wanderers?” The way he spoke, moments when his voice lost all playfulness, all emotion. It reminded you he wasn’t the boy you grew up with. Not anymore. You nodded a bit, grabbing his hands.

“Let’s just forget about it. I’m not hurt, just a few cuts,” he didn’t respond right away.

“Can I at least check on you when we get home?” he said softly, almost as if he were begging. His violet puppy eyes looked down at you, and no matter how many times he gazed at you with that almost hurt expression, you always fell helplessly for it.

“Of course you can,”

——————-

——————

Caleb's thumb held your chin as he turned your face. Y'all were now at his place.

“Does that hurt?” His free hand gently running down your neck then stopped at the edge of your shoulder. You almost shudder at the touch.

“No-tickles,” you giggled a bit, which earned a small smile from him

“You have dirt in your hair,” he said, backing away and ruffling your hair. His voice was tinged with a hint of sorrow. He spoke softly, his brows pointing upwards. Lips pouted so slightly, if you hadn't known him so well, you would've missed it.

“Offering to wash it?” It was almost a joke. You felt kind of icky after the fight. After all, you had rolled around in dirt. Dried blood and sweat still stuck to your skin.

“I-,” he paused before smiling. “I haven’t washed your hair since we were kids,” you hummed, smiling.

“Because you'd pull my hair,” you teased, walking to the bathroom.

“Mayyybe because you couldn’t sit still.” He followed behind you, and you didn't notice when his gaze quickly flickered across your body.

You now sat in the tub. Bubbles sitting right above your chest. With Caleb, you never felt uncomfortable. Not even while you sat naked in the tub. Bubbles covering your most intimate parts. After all, you’d sat like this time after time with Caleb.

“Little Miss Hunter,” He spoke lowly. His fingers gently rub your scalp. “Always rushing head first into danger,” His fingers somehow massaged your scalp like an expert. Gently soaking the bubbles deeper. You almost hummed at the soothing sensation. “Try not to squirm, I don’t want soap getting in your eyes,” His voice low, breathy. Heat from his mouth brushes against your neck, causing you to shiver. One hand traces the curves of your back. “Does this hurt?”

It took you a moment to respond, not because of the question, but because you were worried you'd let out a moan for an answer. “No,” the words slowly fell from your lips, hesitant yet firm.

“Look up,”

You did as told without a second thought, almost instinctively. You shifted slightly, closing your legs as a pressure began to build in your lower stomach. It was something you were somewhat used to; after all, Caleb was a handsome man. It would be strange if he didn’t make your heart race once or twice, right? Especially when he spoke so low it should’ve been a whisper. It didn’t help when one hand ran water through my hair. You took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. Your chest, wavering. Your body reacting in ways you wish it didn’t. Goosebumps covering your skin.

“Try not to squirm I don’t want soap getting in your eyes,” He laughed slowly, a teasing, low laugh that made your head spin and your eyes roll back. Both of his hands rested on your shoulders. His left hand remained still while his right hand trailed down your arm, moving only with his fingertips.

“Your entire arm is bruised.” His voice was soft and slow, like it hurt to say. That quiet worry made your thighs press tighter together. God, he cared. And that did something to you.

“I’m okay,” A breathy moan escaped your lips involuntarily. “Promise,” you added quickly. Hoping to brush past the sound. Whether he noticed, he didn’t respond. You glanced over your shoulder and took in his disheveled hair, with a few strands sticking to his forehead, likely from the stream. Then, your gaze fell on the sleeves of his shirt, which were rolled up to his forearms. You noticed the bare skin of his arms, the visible veins, faint scars, and the contours of his fingers. His hand rested on the side of the tub for support.

“Distracted?” That boyish grin drove your imagination wild. Your eyes rolled as you looked away. The teasing lit in his voice caused you to smile. You couldn’t stop it if you tried.

“You done?” Maybe if you got him out of the bathroom, the heat consuming your body would slow down.

He smiled and tilted his head a bit before pushing himself up. “Yea yea,” that smile never leaving his lips. His eyes not quite leaving you either.

The moment he left, you let out a sigh of relief. The heat in your face slowly going down. You rinsed off the soap, feeling the water trickle down your body. Your mind wanders to the memory of Caleb's slender fingers against your bare back. Imagine the feel of his hand on other parts of your body. You quickly shook your head and got dressed. Which was unsurprisingly his shirt and shorts. They almost hung on you like a blanket.

“We aren’t playing doctor all night, are we?” You teased walking out of the bathroom. Caleb is already holding a few Band-Aids.

“Not much longer, promise,” He patted the open space on the couch. “We can do whatever you want after,” his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Whatever?” you echoed with a grin, your voice lilting just enough to let him know you were poking fun.

“Anything,”

“What if you regret saying that?” You sit down next to him. He scoots a little closer. You were only teasing-or at least it’s supposed to come off as that way. He paused a little, then smiled wider this time.

“Turn your head, pipsqueak.” The Gentle tone he used affected you more than you wish. As you did so, you could feel his hands on your jaw as he laid down a band-aid. He started covering the rest of the open wounds on your body. His hand gentle around your waist. You had to look away so you wouldn’t stare.

Especially when he dropped to his knees. Settling between your legs. Putting a Band-Aid around your ankle, with all his attention focused on that one leg. His eyes looked up. Those soft violet eyes made your heart jump. Just one glance from him could make your body shudder. Not to mention the feeling between your legs returned tenfold. His fingers spread as they slowly moved up your leg, inspecting every inch.

“Relax,” His voice was soothing and intoxicating all at once.

“I... am just," You paused, taking a quick breath. “Stings,” the words sounded more like a question. You shook your head, a bit embarrassed with yourself. It felt silly-the sexual tension building had to be your imagination. Caleb's eyebrows tilted ever so slightly. He glanced back at your leg before placing one more band-aid on your upper thigh.

“When we were kids you’d always get hurt doing the silliest things,”

He sat up, still on his knees between your legs. His ruffled hair covered his face as he looked down. His attention was on the same leg. Seemingly lost in thought as his fingers ran down. Stopping right above your ankle. He let a low, breathy chuckle.

“Then you’d come crying -Caleb, oh Caleb, I think I broke my leg,” he mocked. Then, slowly, he glanced up. His hair was still blocking his face. His eyebrows raised as he looked up at you, passing his lashes and strands of brown hair. “And I’d take care of you,” his thumb caressed the middle of your leg. “Until you felt better,” His tone steady and low. A moment passed, yet you couldn’t look away. Especially when you caught glimpses of his eyes.

“Caleb,” The words came out slower and softer than you expected. He didn’t respond right away, his head dropping to your leg once more. His fingers slowly trailed up your leg. One hand around your calf while the other on top. Both hands moving in sync. Then he said your name. So low you could’ve missed it if the outside world wasn’t so quiet. His hands stopped below your knee. He seemed almost hesitant.

“Is this okay?” The question seemed simple. But in reality, he was asking, Is it okay to cross this silent boundary? The one that kept us friends? Would it be okay if we went passed the point of no return? Slowly, you nodded, holding his eye contact. It took a moment before he stood up. One hand remains on your leg. Slowly moving up until it reached the outer side of your thigh. His other arm reached out beside your head. As he places his hand on the back of the couch. You followed his movements, then stopped back at his face. Your eye darted from his lips to his eyes. The dog tag you had gifted him was dangling from his neck. Slowly swinging back and forth. Him now standing between your legs.

“I need to hear you say it.” The usual teasing edge in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet firmness that made your breath catch

“Yes,” you paused and glanced away. Only for a second. “It’s okay,”

The hand on your leg that was hesitating before now continued to roam over your thigh. You could feel the faint warmth of his body. He tilted his head and leaned in but stopped halfway. His unsteady breath hits your bottom lip. His eye was glued to your lips. Then they slowly trailed back to your eyes. He waited like a quiet invitation. As if he were asking, “Are you sure,” one last time. Wrapping your hand around his neck, you pulled him in. His lips immediately moved once they connected. His hand on your thigh roaming up passed your ass then stopping at you lower waist. He pulled you closer to him. It was slow and passionate. Like two flickering flames slowly connecting. His free hand on your neck. He slowly tilted your head down to follow his movements. His knees were back on the ground. His pelvis was on the edge of the couch. You could feel his chest against your lower stomach.

He was the first to pull back. You could see his eyes moving around your face. His lips slightly parted, his breathing irritated. Both his hands on your waist now.

“I want you.” Your eyes wandered to his chest. “I need you Caleb.” It wasn’t long until his lips were back on yours. His fingers tightened slightly. Not hurting, just firm. You go to take off his shirt. He pulls back for a second to slide his shirt over his head. His chest was firm. His torso was bare beneath the light. Lean muscle shifted with every subtle movement, each line of his abdomen carved like stone, sharp and defined, the kind of abs that made it impossible not to stare. the taper of his waist draws the eye lower.

“You have me,” he went back into the kiss. Tongues connecting, His slight groans muffled by your lips. Both of his hands now cupping your cheeks. He leaned into the kiss. Pushing your back against the plush couch. His hips moving between your legs. Your slight groans muffled with each kiss. “You’ve always had me,” He murmured against your lips. Not fully pulling back as if he wasn't ready- wasn't capable of breaking the kiss. You pulled back to slip your shirt off. A trail of saliva follows you. Now leaving you in just his shorts. He watched your every movement. Caleb's eyes seemed awestruck. Especially when he leaned back in with a smile. “You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing the side of your neck. His hands following the curve of your waist.

“Every part of you,” His lips trailed down your neck. Leaving small kisses in a slow trail. Finally stopping at your collarbone. He paused for a moment before continuing to kiss down your body, stopping just above your chest.

“Caleb,” The way you said his name was almost whiny. Showing him how impatient you were growing by the second. It didn’t make him move any faster. In fact, all he did in response was hum a little as he started kissing up your neck. Stopping right below your ear. His hum was almost a mocking "yeah"

He kisses your jawline, then pulls you back into his chest, before scooping you off the couch. You could feel his muscles as he carried you like nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into another hot and heavy kiss. One arm wrapped around his neck. Your other hand was tangled in his hair, gripping slightly. You moaned into the kiss. His hand gripping under side of your thigh. He gently pushed your back against a wall. You leaned back, looking at him. His cheeks a slight shade of red. His head tilted ever so slightly. One of your hands rubbed down his bare chest. Keeping a slow, tantalizing speed. Feeling each ab on your fingertips while holding eye contact. He groaned at your touch. You could feel him grow tense. His eyes followed your touch. He squirmed as your fingers slid down. Without moving his head, he locked eyes with you. He was smiling. Your hand stopped at his waistband. You gently pulled at the front, making sure not to break eye contact. He whined just at your touch alone.

Putting his hands on your lower back, he pulled you into his chest before backing off the wall. He kissed you once more, like a starving man. He wasn't ashamed to be vocal, that's for sure. Using his foot, he kicked his bedroom door open. He dropped you onto his bed, your legs spreading as you looked up at him.

You leaned in, grabbing his dog tag and pulling him on top of you. He followed along, crawling over you, his arms resting on either side of your head. The tip of the tag rested on your bottom lip. You pulled at it, dragging him closer. His tongue tangled with yours. He slowly lowered himself onto you, his hands finding your waist. He moaned into your mouth as you both felt each other’s most intimate parts. The print in his pants rubbed against your clothed cunt.

He took the first initiative to take off your pants, sliding the oversized shorts off and dropping them to the floor. He paused for a moment, looking up at you. His lips spread into a slow smile as he looked down at your panties.

"You're wet," he said — almost like he couldn't believe it, like it was a dream. He leaned down, kissing your lower abdomen.

You tensed up a bit. You head rolling back on the soft pillow, one hand in his hair. Not pulling, just holding. The other holding the side of the bed. "Relax," He mumbled into your stomach. A low vibration followed his words. He trailed down, leaving kisses. One hand sneaking from your waist to your lower stomach. His fingers spread out. "I read you better than anyone,' The last word sounded venomous. Whilst the rest were low yet comforting. "I'll know if you start second-guessing," He said, kissing the lace on your panties. "I'll know," he kissed again. "So," he pushed your leg open, placing a kiss above the crease between your thigh. "Trust me,' He spoke slowly, his words sounding like a whine. Like he was silently begging.

"Of course, I trust you," the hand in his hair falling to his cheek for a moment. The way his brows rose, his red cheeks. His slightly parted lips. It made your heart rate rise. He kissed the space between your legs. Earning a low whine from you. A silent approval as he slowly slid your panties off. His eyes trailed down your legs, then back to the middle. He leaned in, not quite doing anything. Not yet, at least. His arm lying on the top of your upper thigh. Slowly he ran his thumb down your clit. you squeezed the side of the bed and looked away.

"Do you like it when I do that?" He asked, rubbing a small circle in the same area. A simple yes wouldn't be enough. It took you a moment before you nodded a meek yes, leaving your lips. Quickly followed by a soft moan. He played with your clit, enjoying your reactions. He'd been yearning for so long that he'd never want to rush this moment. Especially not with you. "I want to hear you," it took a few seconds before he continued, "Baby." His voice is enrichingly deep.

"Yes," Your words came out in a single breath.

"Okay' He leaned in. The tip of his nose on your bare pussy. "okay" He mumbled into you before leaving a kiss. Then he stuck out his tongue. Staring from the bottom and stopping a you clit. It was slow and long. Your body involuntarily jolted. Your back lifted off the bed for a second. One hand was squeezing his hair. His moans vibrating off the walls of your cunt.

"Please," you moaned, looking down at him. His eyes appeared between your legs. "Caleb." Whether it was your tone, his name, or the way you begged. Something made him snap. He ran his tongue over your soaked core one last time before finally slipping it inside you. Your breathing became ragged, your throat dry, as involuntary whines left you. Both Caleb's hands are on your thighs. You could feel the faint pressure of his Evol keeping your legs open. Your eyes rolled back. The heat in the room prickles your skin with sweat. You moaned louder when you felt a finger enter. His tongue still ravishing your pussy as he fingered you. You moaned his name. His tongue now lapping at your clit. His fingers kept a steady, slow pace. Finally, he lifted his head. The area around his mouth glistened. He watched looking at your chest rise and fall quickly. His fingers were still moving. He watched as you tried to hold eye contact. But failed as you continued to whimper. Your head falling back on the bed. His fingers wiggling inside of you. His evol letting up so he could watch you squirm in his grasp. Your legs shaking with every pump of his fingers. Then, as you reached your peak, he stopped. You heaved as your chest lifted and fell, struggling to catch your breath. After a moment you spoke.

"You’re such a tease," you said, not directing your comment at him specifically. Eyes glued to the ceiling.

"I can't help it," He sat up. "it's not my fault you sound-" He paused as you sat up and jabbed his chest gently.

"shut up," You pulled him back on top of you, pulling him into a kiss.

"So bossy," He spoke against your lips. Your hands found the buckle of his pants. He helped you slip them off alongside his drawers. Finally letting his cock spring to action.

"Oh," you leaned back on your arms. He was huge—realistically huge. It jumped as you stared, eyes tracing the curving veins. You sat up on your knees, taking a moment before gently pushing him down on the bed.

"Okay," you whispered next to his ear, your finger trailing slowly down his chest, giving him the same kind of slow torture he gave you.

You watched him whine, eyes locked on yours like he'd do anything you asked in that moment, no matter how ridiculous. He tensed when your fingers traveled back up his chest. He moaned your name and grabbed your wrist, not to stop you, just to feel you. You kept stroking his chest, and he jolted at your touch. Your fingers spread as you trailed down his chest. Feeling his chest and the ripple of his abs.

You hadn’t even touched his cock yet, and still it jumped like you did Pre-cum dripping down. "Do you... like this?" You asked hand lowering. Finally touching the tip if his cock. Cum sticking to the palm of your hand. He moaned, his fingers pulling at his hair.

"can-" He took a sharp breath as you ran your hand down his cock. "I want to feel you, baby." His voice wavered. You paused, looking up at him. His soft voice, almost a pleading tone. It made you ache to feel him. You leaned over him, catching his lips. You straddled his hips. His hands found your waist as you fervently made out. You moaned against his lips. Your hands on his bare chest holding yourself up.

"Is this okay?" You whispered, looking down at him. He took a moment before speaking.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered softly, reaching up to caress your cheeks. His thumb rubbed small circles as he continued, "I want you to feel how much I love you."

His words were all you needed as you hovered over cock. Before slowly sitting on top of him, you stopped at his tip. It stretched you open. He sucked in a deep breath his fingers tightening on your waist.

"Are you okay?" He asked with a husky tone. You nodded, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his size. Your hands are still on his chest most of your weight focused there. You slowly dropped yourself lower. A gasp left Caleb as you clenched around him.

You moaned his name when his cock twitched inside of you. His eyes still glued to you. Occasionally, trailing over your body. Taking in the sight of you on his penis. He stuttered as he said your name, head rolling back. "do you like that," His voice low.

You nodded, moving your waist. His penis moving against your walls. He whimpered, hands once again tightening.

"good job, baby," His voice was high. His breath was heavy with every word. Your hips bounced once more until you found the perfect rhythm. You moaned a bit, stifled as you covered your mouth. "let-" He interrupted himself moaning. "l-let it out," You clenched around his cock. His voice was low, husky, ragged, like each word was dragged from the back of his throat. “Just like that…” It rumbled out of him, breathless and broken, the sound heavy with want. Every syllable felt earned, like he was speaking through clenched teeth, trying to hold himself together while you moved on top of him.

"Yeah,” your words came out as a whine. One of his hands rested on the back of your neck, holding your head still to maintain eye contact. Your stomach tightened as the pressure built. Using his hand on your neck, he pulled you in for a kiss. The other hand traveled from your cheek to your lower back. Slowly, he flipped you, positioning himself on top. You let out a small gasp as your back hit the bed. “You feel so good…” You gasped, the words tumbling out between moans. Caleb slowly moved in and out of your pussy. Make sure to leave the tip in before slowly pushing back in. A plethora of wet sounds with each thrust. Caleb nodded at your words. His dog tag dangled violently, swinging with each thrust. Sweat dripped down his toned arms with each hand on either side of your head. His moans were loud, unashamed, and unrestrained, echoing in the air between you. There was nothing held back, no control—just raw, desperate sound spilling from him with every roll of his hips.

Balancing himself on one arm, he touched your lower stomach. He could feel the tip of his cock when it entered. He pushed down softly and earned an abrupt, loud moan from you. It left your lips without shame, high and needy, the kind of sound that made him look at you like he was ready to ruin you all over again. The pleasure building inside of you. You could tell he was at his climax. His words came out strangled. His breathing was heavy and whiny.

"Caleb, I'm going to-" You couldn't even finish speaking. Caleb nodded, his fingers curling around the sheets. The moment you stopped speaking your walls clenched around his penis. He moaned your name as he leaned down, catching your lips. Your moans entangle with his tongue. The world blurred for a moment as you both came undone. Legs shaking as the high slowly subsided. Caleb slowly dropped on top of you. Rolling over a little, not to crush you. Your limbs still entangled.

He took a few heavy breaths before he spoke. "Are you okay?" He seemed to speak in one breath. You nodded before turning your head to look at him. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. The rest is messy. His eyelids were lowered like he'd fall asleep at any moment. Unable to restrain yourself, a smile crept onto your cheeks. The euphoric moment takes hold of you.

"are you okay?"

He nodded at your question, smiling. His eye widened slightly, sparked with new life. His hand once again found your cheek. His thumb caressing your face as he held eye contact. Neither of you could speak. The moment was filled with comfortable silence as he admired you. He leaned in pressing his head onto yours.

"I love you,' He whispered before closing his eyes.

"I love you, too, Caleb." Your eyes fluttered closed as well, listening to his soft breathing.

----------------------

This was my first time writing actual smut. So I hope you all enjoy, and if you have any requests or feedback please let me know :)

[monstersholygrail]

Woven Tales

Preview— Patreon Exclusive

Tiger Hybrid Husband x fem!reader— fluff, primal play, marking, scenting, scratching, cum eating, fingering, oral, overstimulation, implied multiple orgasms, pussy worship

Wc: 3.1k

You scroll through your phone, a frown tugging at your lips as you look into all the group clubs around your area. All of them focusing on activities you couldn’t even pretend to be interested in. Even as your hope began to drop little by little your thumb kept scrolling on and on.

You wouldn’t give up, you couldn’t.

Groans break the silence in the room as your Tiger Hybrid Husband struggles to kick the door open, his arms full of groceries he picked up for tonight’s dinner. He eyes you warily while he makes his way in, heavily aware of what you’ve been doing these past few days. No matter how hard you’ve been trying to hide it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He grumbles, trudging into the kitchen and plopping the groceries down on the counter.

The immediate instinct to shy away doesn’t leave until you eventually give into it, angling your phone just out of his view. It only piques his interest further, ears twitching, body tensing like he’s preparing to pounce.

“Nothing…” you squeak out, a smile wobbling its way onto your lips.

He only takes one step toward you before you’re squealing like you’re actually being attacked. With a hard scoff he’s rounding the island and bounding over to you, tackling your plump frame onto the couch and curling his arms around you to take most of the impact.

Your squeals ring louder as his claws press into your sides, tickling you and sending sharp sparks shooting down your torso where his fingers dance. He struggles against your wriggling body, brushing up against him so perfectly he has to clench his jaw just to stay focused.

But the moment his purrs break through his chest you absolutely melt against him, both of you panting, and your smile bright the second you meet his eye. As much as he tries to help it, he softens too under your gaze. Everything that tells him to remain stern about this fades away till a pout forms on his lips.

“I just don’t see why you have to find some club activity to join. Is my company not enough?” He rasps, his hands smoothing out the growing ache in your belly.

A pout of your own spreads across your face. Reaching around blindly on the couch, you search for your phone, the object having been lost in the attack. The moment your fingers grip the cool metal you bring the object between you both, showing him the screen as you resume your doom scrolling. That’s exactly what it was feeling like too. Doom.

“Nothings wrong with it, don’t say that. I just… think I should talk to someone other than you for a change.”

That crease you love appears quick between his brows, his pout somehow deepening, like he’s truly having trouble grasping onto the concept. It’s kinda cute.

“Why?”

You can’t help but laugh at the childish whine to his voice but one look and you can tell he isn’t finding it funny like you are. Lightly slapping his chest as if that knock some sense into him, you look back to your phone, rolling your lip between your teeth.

“Because I want some friends; people to talk to about random silly things or— or you! Maybe I wanna talk to people about you,” you sputter out, trying to explain.

Something flashes over his face before a wicked grin takes over and he leans down, playfully nipping at your throat before soothing it with his tongue. Your heart flutters, arching your body into his.

“And what would you have to say?” He growls.

Another squeak leaves your lips at the present bulge growing in his pants. By now dinner is long forgotten and everything else is following close behind. The heat of his body pours over you in waves, forcing every little thought from your head.

This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!!

[borderlineex]

₊˚⊹౨ armed & adored ৎ ₊˚⊹

sam winchester x reader

It had been a long week—ghouls in Michigan, a haunted library in Ohio, and now, finally, a moment to breathe in a quiet motel just outside of Lebanon. Sam had suggested a break from hunting and a quiet night of research (classic Sam), and you happily agreed. It was rare to have downtime, especially with both Winchesters in one piece.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through old lore books, surrounded by empty coffee cups and snack wrappers. The room smelled faintly of vanilla from your travel candle, and the hum of the A/C was a soothing background noise.

“Hey, Y/N, I think I found something…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his towel-dried hair with one hand, completely unaware that your soul was about to leave your body. Because Sam was wearing a tank top. A gray, perfectly innocent, probably-soft cotton tank top.

But that tank top did things. It clung to him just enough to showcase those ridiculously toned arms, the curve of his shoulders, and the gentle dip of his collarbone. His skin still glistened slightly from the shower, and his hair—now loose and slightly wavy—framed his face like some sort of divine gift. You forgot how to read. How to breathe. How to function.

“...Y/N?” he asked, looking at you with soft, concerned eyes.

You blinked quickly. “Sorry, what?”

Sam tilted his head. “You okay? You were staring.”

“I was not!” you blurted out way too fast. “I was just… zoning out.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Zoning out at my arms?”

Your face went nuclear.

“I mean, not on purpose!” you squeaked, trying to bury your face in your book and your shame.

Sam chuckled, low and fond, and sat down beside you on the bed, his ridiculously warm shoulder brushing yours. “You know, if you like them that much, you can just say so.”

You peeked at him from behind the book. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Very much.” He grinned, the dimple in his cheek making a surprise appearance. “But for the record…” He leaned in a little, voice lower now. “I think it’s cute.” Sam gave you a look that was so soft it made your chest ache. “You know... I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long before you muttered, “Even cuter than your muscles?”

He laughed, a full, real laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “That’s a high bar… but yeah. Definitely.”

You tried to hide your face again, but Sam reached out, gently pulling the book away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Next time,” he said, “maybe I’ll wear the tank top on purpose—just for you.”

You nodded, already a goner. “I think I’m okay with that.”

And just like that, the great tank top Incident became the beginning of something very good.

A few days after , things had almost gone back to normal. Except for one small problem: you couldn’t stop thinking about Sam’s arms. It wasn’t just the way they looked (though, let’s be real, wow), it was the way they moved when he carried heavy books, or swung a duffel over his shoulder, or absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck while reading lore. They were like works of art — functional and ridiculously attractive.

But the worst part? You still hadn’t touched them. You were dying. Dying. It wasn’t like you could just ask to cop a feel out of nowhere. You had dignity. You had restraint. You had—

“Hey, Y/N, can you give me a hand with this?” Sam called from across the bunker’s library.

You turned and nearly dropped your tea. He was wearing another tank top. This time, it was navy blue and even more offensive to your self-control than the last one. He was standing next to a stack of dusty boxes and looking like he just walked off the set of some lumberjack romance novel. You walked over, heart doing weird little flips, and helped him move a box of books. Your hand brushed his bicep by accident and holy crap.

“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing how you froze.

You cleared your throat. “Yep. Totally normal. Just... evaluating.”

His brow furrowed. “Evaluating?”

You sighed. “Okay, listen. This is going to sound weird, but… for scientific purposes—and only for science—I feel it’s important that I, um, touch your arm. Like... intentionally.”

Sam blinked. Then grinned. “Scientific purposes, huh?”

You nodded solemnly. “Peer-reviewed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of science.”

With a slight chuckle, he flexed just the tiniest bit and held out his arm toward you, like some kind of Greek god volunteering for worship. You gulped and placed your hand gently on his bicep. Warm. Firm. Ridiculous. You squeezed lightly. Then again, just to be sure. You may have sighed audibly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’ve concluded,” you said with all the seriousness you could muster, “that you are, in fact, built like a tree.”

Sam laughed so hard he had to sit down on the nearest chair. “A tree?”

“A big, stupidly handsome one. With very huggable branches.”

He was still chuckling when you sat next to him, letting your hand rest comfortably on his arm this time, no more hiding it. It felt... easy. Familiar. Safe.

“You know,” he said softly, voice quieter now, “you don’t need a scientific excuse to touch me.”

You smiled up at him. “Maybe not. But it helped.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Next time, just say you want to cuddle.”

You leaned into his side, content and giddy. “Well, if we’re skipping the peer review, then I want both arms. Full wrap-around.”

Sam wrapped both arms around you instantly, warm and secure. “Happy to contribute to the research.”

[seroopygoopy]

☆.「 Jotun x GN! Reader 」.☆

As I was doom scrolling through TikTok, I came across a video on seals. Specifically the silly little sounds they make. Then a headcannon bloomed. Yautja’s making the same barks, huffs, and growls as these furry tubs of lard 🥹.

Like imagine just hanging out with your yautja, y’all are just doing some everyday chores or training and all you hear is this 👇

Coming from this absolute unit 😭

Like what?!!? Does anyone else find their clicking cute or is it just me? They’re menacing under scary situations but outside of those circumstances their little trills and clicks are so unique and adorable to me.

Deadass I have a whole YouTube playlist I use to lock in just on yautja ASMR’s 😋!

Brief summary: You live with Jotun (Idk if thats his canon name) and in this scenario y’all share some fruit!

Notes: There’s literally zero dialogue and it’s all fluff!! Also please excuse my grammar. English wasn’t my first language, Spanish is 🙌🏻! Also if you have any questions then feel free to ask. If you have any constructive criticism or tips on how to improve my writing, please let me know! I’m always open to new suggestions.

It’s been exactly three years since you were snatched up from earth and dropped onto the unfamiliar terrain known as Yautja Prime. A desert landscape of vast, arid expanse where the heat is top of the chain. The land is filled with shades of ochre, rust and pale sand. Jagged rock formations sculpted by centuries of wind erosion. Sparse vegetation clings to survival by a thread. The alien biology resembled earth’s own flora but these had a more volatile twist to them. More spikey, bigger and had stronger defense mechanism. No wonder the yautja were so deadly, everything was out to kill them. They HAD to be deadly to survive such a hostile world. Everything was larger and more ferocious just like the natives here.

Honestly you were shocked you were even alive but here you were currently strolling through the village with Jotun. That wasn’t his actual name of course but it was the nickname you picked out for the rotund beast. It just fit him better.

Using both your hands you carried a large basket of fruit, your limbs struggling just slightly to support it’s weight. Arms covered in scratches from retrieving these juicy treats. Defiantly worth it! these were especially sweet this time of year when the sun was practically cooking you alive. Jotun helped you with most of it since the skin of his hands were naturally more thick and suitable for the hostile vegetation.

He walked slowly in front of you carrying two baskets, each woven vessel containing diffrent fruits. You haven’t tried either yet actually. The massive yautja before you walked with a hint of excitement and anticipation in his stride. He took great delight in watching you react to new things. Like a curious puppy he’d sit beside you and just watch. Eager mandible clicks and funny seal-like sounds coming from his chest filled the air after you responded. It always shocked you to hear the various sounds yautja made.

As of now, your feet padded against the scorching sand, even wearing protective feet pads you could still feel the sting. Not as intense but it was most definitely there. Jotun and yourself were currently heading back to his home. A place you shared with him through out all three years.

Upon arrival, the three woven baskets were placed neatly on the wooden counter. You and Jotun immediately got to work with the fruit. Meticulously scrubbing away the dust from the fruit’s thick skin, Jotun separated those ready to be eaten from the ones better suited for storage. The ripest he placed carefully aside, while the rest were tucked into a makeshift cooler lined with scavenged insulation and chilled stones.

Yautja were primarily carnivorous, their culture steeped in the thrill of the hunt and the taste of fresh kill, but they weren’t above drawing sustenance from other energy sources when the opportunity presented itself.

Jotun’s favorite was a watermelon sized fruit—red skin, green frills and white flesh, it bore an uncanny resemblance to a rambutan. Only this one was freakishly large.

He sank a claw into the rind, splitting it into half with a satisfying crack. He held the other piece with one hand and waited for you to transfer it over to yours. His mandibles clicked, a purr rumbled from his chest and with that you knew he was happy.

Jotun bit down on his half, clear juice dripped down his tusks as another purr erupted from within. You couldn’t help but giggle at his purring. It reminded you of a seal but only deeper and coming from a mountain of a man. He turned his gaze to you, slightly lowered himself and gently pushed the fruit you held up to your face. His scaly hand dwarfing your own.

Puppy dog eyes, glowing with a beautiful red hue, gazed up at you with a mix of fondness and curiosity. A soft chuckle slipped from your lips, unable to resist the innocent plea in that look. You couldn’t keep him waiting, How could you with a look like that?

Your teeth sank into the tender white flesh, the sugary fluid flooded your tastebuds. A soft moan surged from your chest as you chewed on the fruit. The texture was tender, almost melting, and the subtle coolness contrasted with the warmth of the air around you. He watched intently, anticipation shining in his eyes, as if sharing in every bite. Water-like juice ran down your chin similar to when jotun bit into his own.

Then a completely new sound filled your ears. Almost like a purr, but different—rougher, deeper, with a strange rhythm to it. You bared your teeth in a wide grin as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. The sound was quirky, no doubt, but so unbelievably precious, especially coming from muscle man over here, whose usual demeanor could be carved from stone.

Jotun turned his head to the side like a confused pup, his brows knitted together, face shifting in that slow, deliberate way he always moved. Analyzing, observing, puzzling it out. What was so funny? Had the fruit triggered some odd chemical reaction in your brain? Some euphoric side effect he’d overlooked?

Then it dawned on him.

The realization hit him with a slow-burning certainty. Jotun’s eyes narrowed while his mandibles pressed back into place. A low rumble filled with annoyance mixed with your laughter. That noise he made—a gentle trill, part rumble, part something new was his people’s way of showing they were very happy.

Yet without doubt here you were laughing. Not at him just at the silly noise he made. There was no mock, no malice, nothing that deemed your laughter as teasing. It was just laugh of pure joy.

His grumble of irritation shifted to deep laugh. A moment of vulnerability between two souls from diffrent origins, cultures, and most notably—diffrent planets. To one, the other was alien and to the other, the same.

Two beings sat on soft furs while enjoying simple, mundane fruit. No words were ever exchanged. No shared tongue was needed to find comfort in each other's presence. Only shared laughter.

[theotherrookie]

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

"Then they wonder why kids hate schools." Erica grumbled, "I bet they still tell the story of what you did! That guy must be scared of mops too now."

It still wasn't as satisfying as the guy getting skewered or having the mop broken over his head, but it was enough to get the point across.

"You hardly have the need to go unnoticed, Travis. One look at you is enough to discourage many from trying their luck." Willow pointed, "Erica was raised to hunt. It's only natural for her to be conspicuous despite her wardrobe."

"Yeah, sometimes I scare people by accident." Erica confirmed. Perhaps that choice of words was by accident as well. "If those were the second and third, what was the best news you got?"

"The afterlife is extensive. However, she most likely wouldn't mind making an attempt." Willow reassured, "Mother likes you as well as your brothers. That means her usual attentions will be extended to you all as well."

The need for closure would move the ghost lady most of all. Veronica would have agreed in a heartbeat, if only she still had a heart.

Willow considered her options, before tapping into the radio again. The car lacked the charm and bite of the real deal, but she hoped Travis was familiar with KITT. She hated wasting a good reference.

"Come on, Travis! You can't leave me hanging like this. I'm a marvelous car, but I can't do all the heavy lifting myself. That's your specialty."

Erica's ears perked up. "I know that voice! It's that talking car who hung out with that guy from SpongeBob!"

Willow smiled as she tossed her hair back, "I felt like going for a classic this time."

It seemed like these were typical shenanigans between the two of them.

The pocket dimension was very barren, but was far from still. The fog quietly parted as they walked, flowing all around them like an intricate network of streams. It was something Rook found calming in small doses, though her attention was focused elsewhere.

"There's no ugly moquette or buzzing lights either." Rook added, "It can be too quiet at times. Not that hearing distant noises would be any better. I guess it's good for reading, Antonio can probably attest to that. Or not– I'm still waiting for your review of your stay in my liminal closet."

It seemed like a nice way to divert the attention away from some rather unpleasant memories. That wasn't the time or place to start that argument and most of all, she didn't think Lucien should have been present to provide his opinion on the matter. The fae could be awfully unhelpful at times.

Though Bill was being just as helpful, in his own way. Veronica hadn't meant to follow up on her threat, but now she simply had to.

"Too many underestimate the importance of sound values when parenting." Veronica paused, her gaze trailing over at the inevitable duck comment, "You're simply hopeless."

And about to take a ride in the hard to discern void slide. Rook wasn't the only one able to mess with gravity there. Bill could take a ride and think about the consequences of his own actions.

Lucien was simply glad he wasn't the one falling into oblivion. He would simply turn the other way and let Rook have her moment of privacy so she could replenish her magic battery.

"Oh, I see you started synthesizing gold." he told Veronica.

"It's an old family recipe." Veronica replied, "It's a shame we can only use it sparingly these days."

Rook could do nothing but stand for a moment to watch the way everybody was ready to give her some space. It meant more than she was willing to admit. Then again, she never got too sentimental when her marks whenever she started feeling drained.

Rook silently turned and took a few steps away from the group, before there was a shift in the pocket to reveal one of the few monsters she had the time to catch lately. It looked like a hybrid between some kind of reptile and a rodent with a mantis-like head. It didn't really matter what it was or where it came from. She had found it trying to eat some poor schmuck and it had almost slashed her wing off with its claws. Now it was going to do something useful for a change.

"Imagine if Five found you instead." She would probably be starving. There was another shift as a bright light engulfed the monster, before it vanished into a swirly cloud of energy that was absorbed by her marks.

Rook took a moment to simply breathe, before turning back. "I… I'm done."

She didn't want to drag this on to avoid making it more awkward than it was.

[redvexillum]

Thirteenth Kiss: Captivate III

A/N: Listen. He's ... doing his best.

Tags/Warning: f!reader, eventual smut, fake relationship, Lucifer is touch-starved

<- PREV || TABLE OF CONTENT

“You know…” you murmured, your voice light with teasing as your knee sank into the plush surface of the king-sized bed. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, creaking faintly in the quiet room. You dropped to your hands with a feline grace, brows raised as you looked up at him from your position. “You have hundreds of rooms in this absurdly massive house. We don’t have to do this.” 

Lucifer flinched, clutching the blanket like it was a lifeline, dragging it up over his bare chest with almost comical urgency. His knuckles were pale from the strain of his grip. “Nope,” he said too quickly, voice thin. He drew in a breath, held it for a beat too long, then added, “I don’t mind. This is… better. For comfort. Mutual comfort.” He tried to smile, but it barely touched his lips and didn’t even graze his eyes, which flickered with thinly veiled anxiety. 

You pressed your fingers to your lips to stifle a laugh, the warmth of it slipping between your fingers as you giggled. The sound felt too loud in the stillness of the room. The absurdity of the situation still hadn’t worn off—Lucifer Morningstar, powerful and terrifying, squirming beneath a blanket like a nervous teenager on his first sleepover. 

After finalizing the odd little transaction that had landed you here—as his pretend girlfriend—you’d spent the evening talking about literally everything. Favourite colours, trivial pet peeves, the kind of conversation meant to fill silences but never scratch below the surface. There had been an invisible line between you both, a careful distance you didn’t dare cross. 

Except when it came to Charlie. His tone shifted every time her name crossed his lips: warm, wistful, almost reverent. You could practically see the glint in his eyes when he talked about her. 

You noticed the glimmer of gold on his left hand. A wedding band, simple and elegant. 

Unmoving. 

Untouched. 

And when the night stretched long enough to make the shadows yawn across the walls, he insisted you stay with him. Not to share a bed in the way others might assume, but simply to lay beside him. 

To exist beside him. 

You leaned in now, bracing your hands on the mattress, smirking as you looked into his wide, panicked eyes. “So… are we going to cuddle?” 

His reaction was instant and violent. He choked on a breath, coughing like he’d inhaled fire, his face a shade of gold you hadn't seen on him before. 

You burst into laughter, loud and uninhibited. “I’m just kidding, Luci,” you said playfully. Then you paused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Can I call you that?” 

He rubbed his chest, trying to recover, eyes still darting anywhere but at you. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Sure, that’s fine,” he said in a voice that had pitched up to something almost… boyish. 

You glanced down at yourself—at the simple white spaghetti-strap tank clinging softly to your skin, and the pale pink shorts cinched at your waist with a satiny bow. The heart-shaped curve of the fabric accentuated the smoothness of your thighs. 

You looked back up at Lucifer. 

And smiled. 

How cute, you mused, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a smile as you caught the telltale flush blooming across Lucifer’s ears. You laughed quietly to yourself, warmth settling in your chest. It was moments like this that made it hard to remember he was supposed to be your client, not your… well, not anything else. 

You slipped beneath the heavy blanket, the fabric cool against your skin before your body heat gradually softened it. The bed was enormous—absurdly so. You could stretch your arms out in every direction and still not reach the edge. It made your usual mattress feel like a child’s cot in comparison. 

“Must be nice,” you murmured absently, eyes drifting upward as your head hit the plush pillow, “to sleep on a bed this big every night.” 

Your gaze wandered over the canopy above you, where rich royal-purple drapery hung in soft folds from the carved wooden posts that framed the bed. Ornate and regal. The kind of thing you’d only seen in period dramas or overly indulgent furniture catalogues. It smelled faintly of lavender and something deeper. Perhaps, old paper? Ink? Him? 

The silence stretched for a moment, interrupted only by the soft rustling of sheets. You turned your head slightly and caught sight of Lucifer lying stiffly on his back, his gaze also fixed on the ceiling. The space between you could easily fit another person. He hadn’t moved any closer, not that you expected him to. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something brittle. “It’s… a bit too big, though.” He let out a half-laugh, small and self-conscious, like he wasn’t sure whether he was making a joke or a confession. 

Then, almost too quickly, he shifted gears. “Anyway! We should get some shut-eye. Big plans tomorrow!” His voice lifted with artificial cheer, the kind that made your heart ache a little. He rolled onto his side, facing away from you, shoulders pulled tight and defensive. “Good night!” he added brightly, as if the words could mask the sudden drop in energy. 

You stared at his back for a moment. He’d put even more space between you, and not just physically. The bed felt colder somehow—emptier—despite how large it already was. 

You blinked slowly. Once. Then again. 

You exhaled quietly and turned onto your side, facing away from him as well. “Good night,” you whispered, your voice barely above the hush of the room. 

You closed your eyes, trying to coax your body into sleep even as your mind wandered. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the performance. Only three days left to convince Charlie that you’d been her father’s secret lover for years. Just three days to make her believe a story that wasn’t real. 

You could do it. 

You were a professional, after all. 

Lucifer lay curled on his side, spine curved inward like a crescent moon, sheets bunched awkwardly around his waist as he tucked his knees closer to his chest. The shadows in the room were gentle now, the light from Heaven's gate barely managing to filter through the heavy drapery, painting pale streaks across the canopy above. But the quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was loud in that aching, suffocating kind of way that only settled in when you were pretending not to feel. 

He regretted asking you to sleep beside him. 

The words he used earlier—to foster connection, to build intimacy, to sell the story faster—felt hollow now, echoing in his chest like a lie he had told too many times. He could still see the look on your face when he’d said it: one brow lifted, your lips twitching with disbelief. You hadn’t bought it. Not really. But you’d smiled anyway and agreed. 

That smile, it had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. 

He shifted, and the cold brush of metal against his skin made him flinch. The gold band, long forgotten on his finger during the day, now felt heavier than ever. It nudged his finger like a whisper of the past, a quiet reminder. 

A ghost. 

How long had it been since someone had shared this bed with him? Truly shared it? Not as a guest, not for appearances, but in the sacred, unspoken way people once did when love wasn’t so far away? 

There was a time—long ago—when this very bed had felt small. When Lilith would curl into his side, her laughter still ringing in his ears while their tiny Charlie scrambled between them, limbs flailing, giggling wildly. They’d all collapse into a warm, tangled heap of breath and blankets and soft goodnights. 

Back then, the edges of the mattress had seemed to close in around them like an embrace. 

But now…?

He pressed his face deeper into the pillow, the scent of old memories clinging to the silk. He hadn’t been able to get rid of the bed. Too much of him was buried in it. Too many pieces he couldn’t face. The mattress sagged in familiar places—echoes of bodies that once filled it. 

Now, the vastness of it mocked him. A monument to emptiness. The cold side of the bed always stayed cold. 

It was too big. 

Far too big. 

For one person. 

And yet… you were here. Just a few feet away, your breathing soft and steady. He hadn’t looked at you—not since he turned his back, like a coward—but he could feel your presence. Quiet. Patient. Kind, even when you didn’t need to be. 

He had you. For now, at least. 

But did that make him feel less alone? 

He wasn’t sure. 

All he knew was that the warmth on the other side of the bed wasn’t just from the blankets. 

And that terrified him. 

The loneliness clung to him like a second skin. Always persistent, always suffocating. No matter how many layers of silk, status, or charm he wrapped around himself, it always found a way in. It gnawed at the edges of his soul, slow and constant, like ocean waves eroding stone. 

There was regret, too. Small, flickering embers glowing weakly in the pit of his chest. Not enough to ignite, but enough to burn. If he had just been honest with Charlie from the beginning, if he had faced her questions and her pain instead of hiding behind this elaborate farce… none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening. 

But… 

When was the last time someone had asked him about him? About his memories, his joys, his griefs, without judgment or agenda? He had grown so accustomed to performing, to manipulating conversations and reading sinners like open books. He knew the signs of false interest. The glazed eyes. The vacant nods. The polite smiles stretched too thin. 

But with you… there had been none of that. 

You listened. You heard him. 

And under the pretense of getting to know each other, for the sake of the illusion, of course, he realized he'd spoken more about himself in one evening than he had in years. Decades, maybe. He hadn’t even thought to ask you much of anything. The realization sat heavy in his chest. 

Tomorrow, he promised himself, clutching the thought like a vow. Tomorrow I’ll ask. I’ll listen. I’ll see who you are—really are. 

A soft sigh broke the stillness, followed by the gentle rustle of the sheets. 

He startled, breath catching, heart suddenly hammering against his ribs like a caged bird. 

Carefully, slowly, he turned. 

You were sleeping peacefully. 

Draped in those pastel pajamas that clung softly to your form, you seemed to glow in the night's light, every detail sharpened by the darkness surrounding you. Your lips held a faint curve, as though smiling in some distant dream. You looked… serene. Open. Vulnerable in the quietest, most sacred way. 

His eyes lingered on your hand resting between the two of you, the same hand that had cradled his earlier with a gentleness he hadn’t expected. He could still feel the ghost of your touch, warm and firm and grounding. 

His fingers twitched, aching with some unnamed desire to reach out again. 

And yet, all he could feel was confusion. 

It was the only emotion he could name in the whirlwind pressing against his chest. 

Confused, because this was all supposed to be pretend. A fabrication. A game. A lie wrapped in soft smiles and false memories. 

But if that were true… why did it hurt? 

Why did he feel sorrow coiling beneath his ribs like smoke, thick, and aching? 

Why did your presence bring both comfort and a sharp, unexpected grief? 

Confused. 

Confused… because in a bed built for two, where once he had been truly loved, he was lying next to a stranger. 

And somehow… he didn't mind it. 

“Wait—wait, wait,” you sputtered, shaking your head as you held a forkful of syrup-drenched waffle midair, your brows climbing in disbelief. “Back up. How did we meet again?” 

The morning light poured through the velvet curtains in golden beams, warming the sprawling bed you still hadn’t gotten used to. And to your complete surprise, the day had started with breakfast in bed. From Lucifer Morningstar himself. 

He had entered the room with an almost boyish pride, balancing a tray like a waiter at some five-star resort. The food looked absurdly good—five golden waffles stacked tall, each one glistening with amber-coloured syrup and topped with a perfectly square pat of butter melting at the centre like it belonged in a painting. A bowl of ripe strawberries and blueberries sat beside it, their scent sweet and fresh. Another plate held three thick-cut strips of bacon fried to a crisp perfection, and two sunny-side-up eggs with yolks like twin suns. 

You couldn’t lie. It made your heart flutter just a bit. The effort. The attention. The ridiculousness. 

But now, sitting up with pillows fluffed behind you and a tray balanced on your lap, you were trying to hold back laughter as Lucifer gave you the most serious look in the universe. 

“We met at the Duck Gala,” he said without hesitation, tone grave and completely devoid of irony. 

You blinked. “I’m sorry, the what?” 

“The Duck Gala,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

You squinted at him, brow furrowing. “That’s… that’s not a real thing. That’s not a place. Is that even a sentence?” 

Lucifer’s face lit up with delight. “I’m so glad you asked.” 

And just like that, over the course of the next twenty minutes, as you nibbled your waffle and popped berries into your mouth, he launched into an elaborate explanation. It might’ve been insane if he hadn’t delivered it with such charismatic certainty. 

Apparently, the Duck Gala was a prestigious, exclusive annual event held at Lucifer’s estate. An event he invented for no one but himself. According to him, it was a celebration of “the finest, most misunderstood creature in all of creation: the duck.” He claimed (deadpan, mind you) that he helped design the original duck alongside God, and to this day, he honoured that artistic achievement with a private black-tie gala. 

“But you’ve never invited anyone?” you asked, mouth half full, trying not to laugh. 

“Never,” he said proudly. “It’s very exclusive. So exclusive that only the ducks are aware.” 

“And I’m supposed to tell Charlie,” you said slowly, “that her father, who’s never mentioned a single gala in his entire life, has an elite yearly event centred around ducks, where you invited no one… and just forgot to tell her about it?” 

Lucifer picked up a strip of bacon, bit into it with an exaggerated crunch, and shrugged. “Exactly. Sounds perfectly reasonable.” 

You stared at him. 

He smiled with a flash of charm, then waggled his eyebrows. “Theatrics, darling. You have to sell the absurdity so well it becomes believable. Trust me.” 

You looked back down at your plate, shaking your head as you cut another piece of waffle. Warm, fluffy, rich with syrup—it was delicious. But even the sweetness couldn’t distract you from the looming truth. 

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath, “Charlie’s definitely not going to buy this shit.” 

And yet, as he continued to babble about duck tuxedos and quacking orchestras, you found yourself laughing. Not fake, not forced. Real. Honest. 

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the madness so much. 

In the end, after plenty of gentle prodding—mostly on your part—you mutually agreed on a more believable story: you met through an online dating app. 

Simple. Relatable. Closer to the truth. 

And the closer you are to the truth, the easier it is to lie. 

The only adjustment was the timeline. Instead of claiming it was yesterday’s whirlwind chance encounter, you decided you'd met two years ago. Long enough to build a history, short enough to make it plausible you’d kept it quiet. 

Still, you didn’t miss it—the way Lucifer’s shoulders drooped, the small pout on his lips when you vetoed his precious Duck Gala origin story. The disappointment was faint, but present, and it tugged at you with a strange, unexpected ache. 

Your words came before you could think twice. Careless at first. Reflexive, even. 

“Well,” you said casually, licking a sticky trail of syrup from your thumb, “maybe this year, you should invite me to the Duck Gala.” 

You met his gaze, offering a teasing grin. “Sounds like a fun event. Plus, if you’re the one catering, that alone makes it worth attending.” 

His expression shifted like sunrise breaking over a bleak horizon. 

His eyes lit up, warm, almost childlike in their brightness. And his smile curved with real, radiant joy. 

Cute. 

That was all you told yourself. 

Just cute. 

You weren’t here to feel anything. This was just a job. An arrangement. But that didn’t stop something soft from blooming in your chest, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. 

You told yourself you just wanted to lift his spirits. After all, in Hell, it was rare to find someone like Lucifer. Most hellspawns were cruel, bitter, hardened by their damnation. But him? He was… different. Softer around the edges than he’d probably like to admit. 

And if you’d met him in the human world, back when you were still someone else, someone you weren’t proud of, you might’ve taken advantage of that softness. Manipulated it. Used it. Left him broken and empty, like so many others. 

That thought hit you hard. Bitter and uninvited. 

A sharp, sour taste coated your tongue, stealing away the sweetness of the waffle. An old memory, unwanted and unwelcome, nudged its way into your mind. A shadow of your past self, cruel, and cold and selfish. 

Your eyes drifted downward to the tray he had brought you this morning. The breakfast he’d made with surprising care. 

You felt the shift before you heard his voice. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The softness in his tone startled you. It wasn’t prying, just concerned. And that only worsened it. 

You blinked rapidly, pushing back the tendrils of memory like sweeping dust beneath a rug. You refused to let them take root. Not here. Not now. 

A breath. Then a bright, airy laugh. 

“Oh, nothing,” you said, reaching for a piece of waffle and stuffing it into your mouth like a chipmunk hiding from its own thoughts. “Just picturing what a Duck Gala would actually look like!” 

You chewed dramatically. “Mmm—yum! Ten outta ten, Luci.” 

He chuckled, eyes lingering on you with a quiet kind of curiosity. But he didn’t press further. 

And you were grateful for that. 

You glanced at him again, your heart quieter now, your thoughts calmer. 

Today, tomorrow, and the days that followed—however long this lasted—you would keep choosing better. Keep proving, if only to yourself, that you have changed. 

That you were no longer that person. 

And maybe… maybe in helping Lucifer with his problem, find peace, or even just hold on to a scrap of happiness… 

Maybe…you could earn a little of your own. 

NEXT ->

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[panpan-37]

You’ve all probably of bingpup with either SY or SJ, but I give….LBH with cat SJ AND cat SY.

Luo Binghe has never had an easy life, but his twenties definitely has to win the award for worst decade of his existence.

His childhood with filled with trials of bullying, poverty, his sick mother, then the shitty foster system. His teenage years was the same, just a lot more bullying and running away from foster homes. He was definitely still poor too. Trying to think back on high school was filled with only memories of working or studying. But it was all for a purpose.

When he was eighteen, he got a partial scholarship to his dream college to get a culinary degree, just like he always dreamed. His savings would pay for most of the tuition after that. Everything had been worth it.

…or so he thought.

Somehow, somewhere, appeared his apparently super rich father who had decided five minutes into discovering Luo Binghe’s existence that he would take over his super successful business appeared. He got pulled out of culinary school and thrown into business school, all paid for courtesy of Tianlang-Jun.

Fucker.

And even worse, Luo Binghe was actually stupidly good at business! Curse him for being so perfect at everything!

But holy shit was he depressed.

After rooming two years with Mobei-Jun, who was equally depressed about his fucked up family situation, his father bought him a penthouse to live in.

Like an actual fucking penthouse.

Luo Binghe is going to kill that man one day, he swears it.

This is a constant thought for him, and he’s once again chanting that same speech as he takes the trash out to the back.

Obviously he has maids for that now, but old habits die hard, and this is one of the minor forms of protest he can think of with this whole situation.

‘I’m gonna…’

“Ow!” Luo Binghe exclaimed, pulling his hand back from the dumpster. Instantly after he opened it he got scratched by whatever animal was using it as a home.

‘Great, now I’m gonna get have to get a tetanus shot on top of everything,’ Luo Binghe thought with disdain. He peered into the dumpster to see what he was working with, and was met with emerald green eyes.

Oh it’s just a cat. It seems God hasn’t completely abandoned him after all.

The cat had probably seen better days, but it was kinda cute.

Now, in a vulnerable headspace and very eager to make an impulsive decision that someone will regret, whether himself or his father, he felt himself reaching for the cat.

The cat freaked, hissing and scratching and burrowing deeper into the dumpster. Luo Binghe kept digging however, his hands finally touching something soft. He grabbed the furball, surprised by how uninjured his hands were so far.

When he brought his hands out of the dumpster, his eyes met a sleeping cat.

But he still heard the hissing from inside…?

Oh! There’s more than one. Even better. He’ll become a crazy cat lady.

Tucking the sleeping cat under his arm he managed to catch the other one who seemed to be trying to get to his peaceful counterpart. He held the fussy cat by the scruff and cradled the other as he grabbed a random recycled box and put them inside. Then he got into his car and drove to the nearest vet.

Two white cats, which you would not have been able to determine before their baths, both with matching jade green eyes. Most likely brothers. One sweet and lovable, one pissy and violent.

Luo Binghe payed to get both of them their shots then took the pair home. It seems like his life is finally about to get more interesting.

Extras from a few years in the future:

The office has two pets. Xiao Jiu and Xiao Yuan. Getting a visit from Xiao Yuan was a delight. A visit from his brother meant your office was getting destroyed and your complaints were going to fall on deaf ears.

Unless you were Shang Qinghua. Then your office was getting destroyed no matter which brother came in. But it seemed only he had this problem, so no one bothered to care.

Surprisingly, Shang Qinghua was on Xiao Yuan’s list of his top three people.

Xiao Yuan’s list!

1. Luo Binghe

2. Shang Qinghua

3. Liu Qingge

How Liu Qingge ended up on this list despite working in a completely different—and enemy—company was anyone’s guess. But the two rival companies did have plenty of meetings where they pretended to work things out.

Xiao Jiu’s list!

1. Yue Qingyuan

2. Any female

3. Food source (Luo Binghe)

Again, how Yue Qingyuan ended up at number one is up for debate, but if the man wasn’t allergic he probably would’ve taken the cat from Luo Binghe by now.

(Fun little Drabble, might expand idk)

[thy1quitcentral]

K pop demon hunters

Huntrix vs Saja boys

X Honmoon! NB oc

Part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * part 4 * part 5 * part 6

Part 7

.................💓...................

Mission: take down Saja boys

Was a go

And so far Honey wasn't a part of it

Which was....fine

They were the burden of the group of course, and the girls can still summon their weapons anywhere so that was perfectly fine.

Honey looked around then thought for a moment. They took out their phone and called Celine.

"Honmoon, it is great to hear from you again, what may I be a service to you?" Celine

"um hi Celine, nice to hear you again. I have a couple of questions to ...eh" Honey looked out at the view . "Ask"

"what is it? Has something happened?" Celine.

"well it would see that there is a demon boy band"

"what?" Celine spoke up in shock

"wait wait wait the girls have got this....I was just wondering. Can anything that isn't a hunter influence.....me?" Honey asked as they glowed calmly and shimmery.

"influence you?" Celine asked

"yea, like make me glow brightly just like the hunters would" Honey felt more nervous then ever.

Celine was quiet, one could tell she was upset.

"that mustn't happen My Honmoon. You are a fragile thing, naive to all things music. The hunters are the only voice you should glow for. Once you've turn golden you won't have to worry about this, but Ill make sure they align the idol awards on the golden moon." Celine spoke.

"worry anymore?" Honey frowned

"well yes, your form will become pure light, the humans will be safe forever" Celine.

That strikes a nerve, why did it?

"that's a....relief" Honey spoke after a pause "well good bye Celine"

"bye my Honmoon I'm sure you'll turn golden soon"

They hung up and looked down at their hands again. They liked their hands and arms and face and hair? They took care of their hair very well, they had bottles upon bottles of hair care products. They didn't need to clean or wash but it felt nice and smelled nice.

they.....when they were just light they didn't have that.

"I don't...." Honey closed their eyes and frowned deeper. The stress, when was the last time they were so stress? They looked down and saw their threads turn pink again, pale pink tho.

They felt weak and leaned onto their bed and closed their eyes. They looked out

A lot of their surface was a pale pink. They can feel when the girls pull out their weapons, they only lay down and close their eyes.

******

Meanwhile

Rumi chased after Jinu, she felt humiliated after that mess.

"you demons take everything" Rumi exclaims as she swiped at Jinu who Dodged.

"oh come on, not everything" Jinu rolled his eyes.

"our fans"

Left swing

Jinue ducks

"their souls"

Lower swipe

Jinu jumps.

Rumi hissed when Jinu scratched her arm.

"my Honmoon!" Rumi grunts as she managed to wack at Jinu, who yelps and glared slightly as he was pushed back.

"you act as if Honey was your property, pretty possessive don't you think?" Jinu grunts. Rumi stammers "they are not!"

"they were having fun with me and my guys but your little team had to come in and take them away" Jinu huffs. "You're cute and all...and strong" Jinu grunts

"but you take just alot too" Jinu threw Rumi off him. Rumi was caught off guard and blinked rapidly.

She jumps when she hears the cries of her friends.

Jinu looks to Rumis arm and his eyes widen "a ...demon?" He mumbles.

Rumi panics and covers her arm. "You...wrong, who do we even take from? I don't take anything, demons take" she states. She gasped when her friends appeared and turned.

Jinu frowned, something in him tells him these hunters don't know what they do to the Honmoon and what they are gonna do to it, once they're gold.

He huffs as he wraps his arms around her.

Rumi stiffens and blushes slightly but pushes him away and Jinu lets go before disappearing, leaving Rumi to help her friends out.

******

Once the girls were home, Honey had perked up from the couch and gasped

‘’Sit, now’’ they state, pointing at the couch ‘’actually no, change first’’ they huff as the girls went to get changed, and once they were dressed they were sat down and told to hold still.

‘’Ooowww’’ Zoey whined as Honey put the disinfectant on her cuts. ‘’I’m sorry if I had made my surface weak, I don’t understand what’s happening to me’’

Mira and Rumi both looked at each other, giving a face and both kinda understanding what the face meant. ‘’We’ve never seen you this….weak’’ Mira explains bluntly causing Rumi to kick her shin ‘’ow!” The taller girl hissed.

‘’What she mean is, that we are worried about you’’ Zoey explains for the two who bickered but Honey slaps their shoulders and still told them to hold still.

‘’I thank you for that…really’ they smiled warmly.

‘’Maybe a lil song could cheer me up?” They smirk as they got comfortable. Mira smiled softly as they start.

The lullaby had to wait cus Bobby had barged in and told the girls about the Saja boys and how popular they were becoming.

"also, apparently, the Saja boys have request young hoons talents in designing their performance clothes, I thought that would be a good idea. Really gives huntrix are all about good and friendly competition." Bobby states and sweats nervously.

"what!?" The girls yelled out, making Honeys eyes widen.

"they heck would we let that happen?!" Zoey asked loudly "heck nah" she made a king fu pose and shook her head rapidly.

"I ...was out voted" Bobby comments. "Sponsors all thought it was a good idea too" he whined as a raincloud hovered over him.

"u-uh that's fine! I mean I can't say no to my supervisors and stuff" Honey sweatdrops. Rumi frowned at this "why the hell would we allow this again..." Mira looks to Bobby who was extremely tired.

"Celine will be pissed" Zoey mutters lowly.

Bobby had already set up when Honey will go to start up the measurements.

"ugh I'm so stress" Bobby whined as he got off his phone and all he needed was a nice break from his phone and just look at the pretty view of the city.

All The trio could see is Honeys surfaces being weak as hell and pink. The deity had sat down and hummed softly.

The trio made a decision and thought they were gonna make a diss track about the Saja boys.

They were fired up.

However Honey didn't think a diss track was necessary. It didn't bring people together, golden was a much better choice.

But if that meant they could exist a lil longer. Honey said nothing, they bite their lip

"not sure about this demon thing, they seem like good people but LOVING the energy" Bobby exclaims. Then looks to Honey "you got this Young-hoon?" He asked and smiled.

"of course" Honey grinned at him and gave a thumbs up "I'll just make the girls look more rad then the Saja boys, don't you worry" they wink.

"perfect!"

They both look at the girls all hyped and ready. "They grow up so fast" Bobby cried, The deity had a tissue box at the ready "they do"

Later on

The girls sang a song that was sung long ago that Honey had taught them.

‘Small soft but passionate lullaby that made Honey glow gently and shimmer. Their voices were always a comfort for them, all of the hunters they had been with were, but not all of them were….this open to them.

‘For the sunset sunlight sisters, Celine and the other sister were formal as hell.

Except Rumis mother, that woman was something. She was beautiful and kind and funny. Honey had feelings for her, it was strange. Nothing hurt more than when Rumis mother ends up falling for a demon.

Things happened, Honey was placed back to their garden to wait for the next three hunters. The next cycle.

Celine was ....stricter after Rumis mother had passed, it almost seemed like she was angry at Honey.

"heeellooo?" Rumi had waved her hand in Honeys face. The deity jumps slightly "huh?" They blinked and looked to her, seems that Zoey and Mira had fallen asleep.

"you okay?" Rumi asked "you say that often nowadays huh?" Honey hummed as they leaned onto the couch and holds a pillow.

"I mean...yea, youre in a very delicate state right now and you're gonna be too close to the very thing trying to destroy you" the purple haired hybrid said nervously.

"I know"

They sat

"what was It really like when you were golden for a split second?" Rumi asked. Honey looked out and frowned "it was -"

"how did YOU feel" she pressured.

"I felt nothing.....I was nothing but light after all"

.................💓...................

[mona-risms]

Also in way less wholesome thoughts about Rumi, I think she has a insane breeding kink.

I don’t even think she would know it until she slept with someone. But I feel like that would send her into a feral frenzy.

Like, all that shame and guilt her whole life from being a demon, and all the other repressed emotions she had to bottle up would explode if she was fucking someone and they told her they wanted to have kids with her.

I feel like for irony sake that may just turn her into a succubus. A simple fuck would turn into a day long feral mating marathon.

Like it would probably work it’s way through the whole living space, starting in the bedroom, for an hour or two until the bed is completely ruined, tears from claws, a broken bed frame, stained with sweat, squirt, and seed.

Moving on to the couch eventually that would get much of the same treatment.

Pressed against those big windows, juices seeping down the glass.

On the kitchen table with claw marks in the wood from Rumi.

Using the cabinets to keep her standing as you rail her eventually pulling them off the walls.

But neither of you care.

It’s not pretty sex.

You’re both flushed, scratchs, bite marks, squirt, seed, spit, and sweating all over. Ran ragged like you just ran a triathlon.

Rumis hole looks like a glazed donut from how much seed has been put in and spilled out of her at all angles.

By the time you are halfway through moans have just devolved into her shrieking from overstim.

But she just can’t stop herself. And you don’t wanna stop either.

People are calling phones… Rumis missing a interview rn.

Eventually the girls just find you both passed out in the middle of the apartment covered in all the fluids that could possibly come from sex passed out from exhaustion.

Sincerely

Tsaritsa Pyro Archon Anon

I have a breeding kink too there we go we're Perfectly compatible! And this is obviously why me and Rumi should be married!!!!

But fr shit would go CRAZY HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭 I mean tbf a demon's gotta have their sustenance somehow 😜😜😜😜 JOKING JOKING maybe not joking shhh you're out here doing my job for me fr though actuallg LMFAOOAAO

Her bedroom must be so fucking wrecked before you two migrate to the balcony, a mix of fluids everywhere as she finally lets out the loudest fucking noises instead of her biting it down and restraining them, and then to the shared living space. Like Zoey and Mira are both out for promotional material they'd probably have to do individually, so they left much earlier and now the penthouse is empty as hell, save for the two of you

NOTHING survives in the shared space though you're right in this—EVERY surface is thoroughly defiled and utilised. Should Rumi care? Yes. Would she care under different circumstances? Definitely yes. But right now the only thing in her mind is making sure she drains you dry, everything else blurs away from the sheer intensity of your coupling

If you're using an ejaculating strap then ugh FUCK yes it makes no difference to her as long as she feels full and thoroughly bred. If anything? She'd probably want you to get the strap with the most capacity. But is it a good idea, if you have a working dick and could Potentially get her pregnant? No, probably not, but the way you fucked her and never let go, the way you were so achingly sincere in the way you'd Want to have kids with Her. Even despite the whole half-demon thing, the main insecurity she's had for her entire life? She'll take the risk for once either way, after avoiding risks on herself for so long

Mira and Zoey most likely got contacted by Bobby in a panic bc "WHERE IS SHE??????" so they come back home.....and SCREAM at the state because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST??????? SORRY didn't REALISE they needed HAZMAT SUITS????????????? You probably get woken up and honestly good luck trying to explain why the Fuck there's so much damage and. Fluids. EVERYWHERE. They're never letting either of you live this down, ESPECIALLY Rumi considering she caused most of the extreme damage (thanks demon heritage!!!!) and how she's stained and dripping nonstop 😭

If you even dare try to explain what happened to Bobby the poor guy might faint. But it's okay it's why they're paying him the 3% right.....though he might need to be compensated via 4% GAHAHAHAHA

[directdogman]

Hi I just wanted to say that you have inspired me a lot.

I have always wanted to write stories for a while now, I have big dreams and I hope to one day accomplish them.

Dsaf originally inspired my first oc, which to be fair I did just steal from dsaf (don't worry they are different now) it also inspired my Phone headed sona.

Your games, dsaf and dialtown are an inspiration for me, and I also was wondering if you have any advice for someone trying to write a massive project.

Sorry if I bothered you with this, have a nice day or night dogman

Ayyy, glad to hear my writing's inspired you!

To be frank, I mightn't be the best person to take writing advice from. I'm still a student in the grand scheme of things and any lesson I teach you would likely make you more like me as a writer, when you should always wanna aim past me! You should never settle for being as good as me when you can be so much better!

The only surefire creative advice I can give that might be useful to you now, which I know works because every successful artist I know has learned it, is to start small. However small you're thinking of right now, half it. Then half it again. Then half it AGAIN, and so on. Your first project should, if anything, just be a single scene. I know that might seem small, but trust me, that's always how it starts. When you're confident you've gotten the scene where you need it, then you work up from there, a few scenes, to a few more scenes, to a small game. It's better too if you don't just keep adding to the same game and start over each time for a reason I'll elaborate on now.

If you try to make a single project that's as large as the ones that inspired you, you will have a truly frustrating time. Aside from the fact that it's very difficult to organize a large project before you learn the skills that you'll pick up gradually as you make smaller projects, you also improve a lot as you start out. It's very common, especially at the very beginning of your journey, to constantly revise and remake your work as you go because every now and then, you'll improve so much that everything at the beginning is noticeably worse than what comes after.

This happens to all developers, to be clear, even ones with years of experience under their belts. It's the reason Fez took years to get out, by the developer's own admission. If your project takes a few days or even a week to make, you only have a small length of time to get better and want to scrap everything. Getting something, anything out there, getting feedback, being able to reflect on a finished product is an essential part of your creative journey and I know many developers who are more talented than me who've never gotten that far due to their tendency to set targets for themselves that they can't hit yet.

This lesson took me a much longer time for me to learn than I'd like to admit. I have about 4 long-term projects that never saw the light of day that I worked on for most of my teenage years (which I could make now), but couldn't then. If I'd made smaller projects during that time and honed specific skills, I'd likely be even better than I am now!

You'll get there if you stick with it. Learning any creative skill from scratch is an incredibly frustrating and at times, completely disheartening process. You'd be surprised how many times I almost quit doing this. But, nothing good's ever truly easy. Start tiny, work your way up! Through self reflection, feedback, added experience, you'll figure out your own style, your own workflow. And then... I am TOAST. Best of luck!

[fidgetspringer-art]

Equestrian AU part 4 A discovery is made. Noah does not take it well.

The next morning, Martin repeats the steps he’d followed the day before. Except this time, when the horses (led by Tansy once again), follow him up to the gate, he doesn’t stop to shut it until Tansy has followed him out of it. She looks a little confused at being on the outside of the fence, with the rest of her new buddies on the inside, but she doesn’t seem anxious. When Martin walks off towards the barn, Tansy follows.

Casey is sitting out on the front steps when he comes past, and she grins at him. “Look at her!” She cheers. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Haven’t gotten a halter on her.” He doesn’t dare be too optimistic yet. They’re moving in the right direction, but it’s likely that the halter will be a bigger hurdle. “But I reckon you can go ahead and call Abigail. Set up that appointment.”

Casey gives him a thumbs up, already in the process of digging her phone out of her pocket. “Today or tomorrow?”

Martin stops, watching Tansy do the same a few steps behind him. She’s curious about everything, but so far she hasn’t seemed overly spooked at all. That screaming, frantic monster of a horse from the other day is nowhere to be seen. “Tomorrow might be safer.”

“I’ll have her come over this evening, we could do dinner, and if Miss Tansy will allow we can get her checked out then. If not Abby will be happy to come back tomorrow to try again.”

Martin nods. The perks of your vet being married to your manager he supposes. “Sounds good.”

he spends the rest of the day doing his usual chores, mucking out and feeding, both the horses and the other animals.

Tansy shadows him the whole time. She takes a minute to follow him into the barn, not too trusting of the dark space within, but it’s obvious that she’s fairly used to going to lots of new places. Very little phases her overall, and when she is unsure about something she meets it with curiosity before fear.

It’s surprising. How level headed she is, when the picture that had been painted of her before meeting her was that of a fire breathing dragon.

Martin walks back into the barn after dropping off some fresh hay with the two other client horses, which Tansy had very loudly and excitedly greeted over the fence, and this time he intentionally walks down through the cross ties and out the door at the end of the barn.

Tansy follows.

Martin turns and walks back through. Then he stops halfway and takes the halter off his shoulder.

Tansy watches him. Ears perked.

He lifts the halter, hand outstretched towards her. The mare doesn’t budge. Huh.

He walks up to her, half expecting her to step away. But she stays where she is, bending her neck to sniff his pockets when he stands next to her, halter touching the side of her neck. “Good girl, Tansy.”

He takes the halter away from her and replaces it with a treat.

The next time he touches the halter to the side of her head. She immediately starts looking for her reward. “You’re smart, huh?”

It doesn’t take many rounds of this before Martin feels confident enough to slip the rope halter up onto her nose and over her ears. Tansy doesn’t try to flee. She just nods her head a bit, begging for a piece of carrot. Martin ties the halter off. He feels a bit silly now. For making this problem seem so much bigger than it was.

He likely let Noah get under his skin. Let himself forget that this is what he’s good at, that he’s spent his whole life learning to understand horses. And here Tansy has been, telling him she’s been ready for the next step all day. Yet he hadn’t seen it until now.

“I’m a stupid old man, aren’t I, girl?” He gives her neck a scratch. “Let's go for a walk, before we leave it for today.”

That evening Abigail arrives. She’s clearly just come off a call. She’s dressed in her barn clothes, just as dusty and covered in bits of straw as Martin is.

Her dogs come pouring out of the front seat of her car when she climbs out. The terriers go racing off across the property, off to hunt down some mice, no doubt.

“Evening, Martin.” She smiles as he comes up to meet her. “Had any luck with my next patient?” Casey must have given her a rundown of the situation.

“Got a halter on her earlier. No drama.”

Abigail hands over a shopping bag full of bottles and cans. It’s gonna be one of those dinners, apparently. “That’s good. You want me to look at her before we get started with the food?”

Martin has already thought it over. “Nah. We’ll wait until tomorrow, give her a moment to process today.” He lets Abigail in through the front door. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Abigail kicks her boots off in her usual spot and hangs her jacket next to Casey’s. “Of course not. I’ve got the day off, well, mostly. I’ll come look at her.”

“Why don’t you both spend the night, then? Looks like you aren’t driving anywhere any time soon after all.” He lifts the shopping bag pointedly.

The two of them stay over pretty often as it is. Both of them have spare clothes put away in the guest room, or mostly Casey does, for when she’s helping out with youth camps and the like, but Abby has some of her own clothes here too. It’s always nice to have someone else in the house.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They spend the evening out on the patio at the back of the house, eating steak that Martin had saved for an evening just like this one, talking about all kinds of things that don’t really matter.

The dogs turn up at some point, and Martin ends up in a rocking chair with a lap full of sleeping terrier. He’s nudged awake at some point by a giggling Casey, telling him it’s time for bed.

The next day when Martin calls the horses, Tansy follows them all the way up to the gate. Though when he tries to lift the halter off his shoulder, she back up and trots away. Not quite ready for that, then.

He puts the halter back where it had been and focuses on the other horses instead, and it doesn’t take long before Tansy finds her way back to the front of the herd to beg for more treats.

Instead of trying to get the halter on her again, Martin opens the gate and gestures for her to come through it. She seems to remember their little game from yesterday, and she happily steps out so he can shut it behind her. Once again she trails after him while he feeds and tidies up around the farm. He stops at one point and without making a big fuss about it, slips the rope halter over her head and throws the rope over her back. She allows him to do it just like she had yesterday. No drama.

Casey and Abigail are sleeping in late after the night they had, but since Martin rose with the sun like he always does, he’s got some time now to work with Tansy before her vet check.

He spends that time in the barn, by the cross-ties.

He opts to just sling the lead rope over one of the stall doors instead of tying her up properly. He still doesn’t know how she does with being tied, though he suspects she’ll be just fine with it. Still, he doesn’t want to make her feel claustrophobic and risk ruining what trust he’s built with the halter.

The first thing he notices is that she’s fidgety.

She spends the first little while exploring the stall door in front of her with her nose, touching every inch of it. Then she cranes her neck to stick her head into the stall to sniff around in there too. That done, she starts turning, trying to keep Martin within her sights, curious to watch whatever he’s doing.

He’d wanted to see how she would do if he just left her alone, and the answer is that she’s fine, just bored.

In the end she figures out that the rope isn’t actually tied to anything, and she comes padding after him when Martin goes to fetch his brushes.

He leaves her standing free in the aisle while he brushes her down, and while she sometimes moves to go investigate something that’s caught her attention, she mostly stays put.

She’s not at all opposed to being brushed and touched in this context. She isn’t overly stressed or impatient, and she’s not scared in any way.

Martin thinks back to the rundown he’d gotten about Tansy’s issues. High stress levels, poor impulse control, spooky and at times aggressive. Though most of her issues come to the surface under saddle.

For now, just changing her environment has been enough to see a significant change in her, but Martin knows this is only the beginning. She might be thriving under these specific conditions, but this isn’t her real life. Finding a solution that will work for her in the long run will be another matter entirely.

While he’s standing there, watching Tansy sniff at a clump of her own fur that Martin has just brushed off her, he catches the movement of the barn door behind her back as it’s swung shut by the wind. Hard.

He’s bracing himself for Tansy’s explosive reaction before the sound even hits them. The bang rings out like a gunshot, loud enough to make even Martin’s heart leap in his chest.

But there is no flurry of hooves or a half ton animal barreling into him.

Tansy hasn’t taken her nose off the floor, where she’s now licking the dust like there might be stray bits of grain hiding somewhere.

Martin blinks. Well shit. “Tansy.” He raises his voice, just a little. No reaction. “Hey!” He barks it as loud as he dares. Her ears stay forward, focused on her task. “Ah hell.”

Abigail checks the mare over, top to bottom.

They trot her up and bend her legs every which way to check for any sign of lameness. Nothing. Her vitals are all normal and while she complains a little when Abigail pokes and prods and pulls at her to check for any sore spots, they both agree it’s just because she’s not keen on the handling, and not because she’s in pain.

Martin trusts Abby’s judgment more than he does anyone else, so when she declares Tansy healthy and pain free, he knows that she’s right.

That just leaves the matter of her hearing.

Abigail doesn’t even need any fancy equipment to tell him the mare is stone deaf.

“That’s not ideal.” Casey sighs. “I’ll call the owner, let him know what we’ve found.”

Martin stops her. “He’ll be by tomorrow, I’ll tell him then.”

She doesn’t argue. It’ll be best to tell him in person anyway. Hearing this won’t be easy, and Martin would be lying if he said he wouldn’t rather let Casey take the brunt of his reaction, but telling him over the phone isn’t fair.

Martin takes Tansy for a walk around the property before he puts her back for the day. It’s hard to believe this is the same mare that had been dropped off less than a week ago. She follows Martin around like a puppy, so content to just exist that if Martin had only ever seen this side of her he never would have guesses the headache she’s caused her owner.

It makes him wonder if there’s something more to this that he isn’t seeing. He’s missing a piece of the puzzle, but he has a feeling that finding it is going to be easier said than done.

Noah turns up the next day, when Martin is weeding the flowerbeds by the front steps.

The truck pulls into the lot behind him, trailer attached, and out climbs a familiar, scowling face, though his eyes are covered by sunglasses today.

“No luck, then I take it?” The tone of his voice grates on Martin’s nerves.

He saunters over, hands in his pockets. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to fix her. Don’t know why I bothered, should have found a real trainer instead.” He steps closer with a scoff. “Waste of my fucking time.” He spits, standing over Martin where he’s still on his knees, looking down at him like he’s nothing.

Martin is surprised by the way it makes his blood boil.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing, and he doesn’t catch up to his own actions before he’s got Noah by the collar of his shirt, slammed back against the side of his truck.

“You’re lucky I don’t believe in beating sense into spoiled little brats like you.” He makes sure to get in Noah’s face. “I don’t have to take this crap from you, but I will, because I give a damn about your saint of a horse.”

Noah opens his mouth to talk back, but Martin shuts him up by shaking him, just enough to have his head drop back against the car, throat bared and sunglasses crooked on his nose. Martin hates how good he looks like this.

“Take her with you if you want. But know that you’ll be the one who's ruined what progress she’s made.”

“What progress?” Noah hisses. His hands have come up to hold Martin’s wrists now in a feeble attempt to pry him loose. “You haven’t even caught her!”

Martin hauls Noah off the truck and turns him. Forcing him to look in the direction of a small patch of grass by the corner of the house.

Where Tansy is grazing quietly.

“What-”

Martin lets him go. Tries to not stare at the way his ridiculous polo shirt is all wrinkled and out of place from his fist. There’s dirt smeared into the pale fabric too, in the shape of his fingers. Christ. He needs to get his head checked.

“We’re gardening.” He says. Stupidly.

Noah turns to look at him like he’s insane. Maybe he is.

Noah settles down a little after that.

The shock on his face remains long after Martin takes him over to say hello to his horse, which Tansy responds to with surprising excitement. It’s almost like she’s missed him.

She lets Noah wrap his arms around her sturdy neck, and she noses at his face until she succeeds in knocking the sunglasses off his face. Noah’s stunned stiffness wears off gradually, and soon he’s smiling at his mare’s antics. “What have you done with her? How is she this calm.”

Martin just watches them, helplessly endeared by how gentle Noah is with her, despite Tansy being nowhere near fragile. “Not much. Just gave her some space and let her make her own choices.”

“And that’s all it took?”

“That’s all it took.” Martin nods. “But this is far from the fix you’re hoping it is. She’s thriving now, but she still has her triggers that need working through. From what I understand most of those turn up under saddle, correct?”

Noah sighs. “Yup.”

There’s a pause, while Martin gathers up the courage to say what he has to. “There’s one other thing, that I think you should know.”

Noah looks over, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Tansy is back to grazing now. Head down and ears relaxed. “Watch her ears.” When Noah finally obeys, Martin whistles, sharp and loud enough that Noah startles beside him. Tansy doesn’t react.

Noah’s eyes go wide suddenly, as the pieces connect. He does what Martin has just done and whistles. Still nothing. His shoulders drop. “You mean-”

Martin nods. “She’s deaf. I’m sorry.”

Noah doesn’t say anything, he just takes the few steps over to the bench set against the side of the house and sinks down onto it, head in his hands. “Shit.” He exhales. “So that explains it, then. Why she is the way she is?”

Martin takes a risk and sits down beside him. “It’s part of the problem, sure. But I think there’s more to it. Something I’m not seeing.” He nods in Tansy’s direction. “Look at her. She’s not anxious, or stressed, or easily spooked. If anything I’d say her being deaf is part of that too, part of why she’s so at ease.” He watches her rhythmically rip tufts of grass in half. “There has to be more to this.”

Noah has gone uncharacteristically quiet. Martin wonders what he’s thinking right now. If he’s connecting dots that Martin hasn’t yet. “I can’t believe I never noticed.”

“Easy enough to miss. She acts normal for the most part.” he doesn’t blame Noah for not seeing it before. It’s not the first time he’s heard of horses that have been found to be deaf or even blind to some degree until well into their adult lives. “They’re good at adapting. Good at hiding it.”

“What do I do now, then? This is it, isn’t it. I’ll have to retire her.” He sounds so heartbroken at the prospect that Martin feels for him, he really does.

“Not necessarily. I think if we can work her through the rest of her issues, the two of you can figure out a way to make this work. Odds are she just needs different cues from you to help guide her.” Which leads him to the next part of his plan. “I need to see her under saddle to get a better idea of what’s setting her off. If you’ve got time we can-”

Noah is up out of his seat in a flash. “I can’t. Not to day, I’ve got- I’m busy.” he rounds the corner of the house without giving Tansy so much as a pat goodbye.

Martin follows, a little taken aback. “That’s alright. Just stop by when you have time, I’ll keep doing what I have been doing. But I really do need to see her under saddle before we take any more steps.”

Noah is nodding. He shoves his sunglasses back down over his eyes. “Yeah whatever. I’ll stop by, later.”

He doesn’t even say goodbye before he’s slamming the door of his truck shut and taking off, turning his trailer around and disappearing down the road. Not the reaction he’d been expecting, but he’s not entirely sure if this is a good or a bad outcome. Time will tell, he supposes.

It doesn't take long for it to become apparent, however. Martin is in the kitchen when there’s a knock at the front door.

It’s a Sunday, so he’s alone on the farm, and he’s not expecting anyone. Least of all a sheepish looking Gabriel Warren on his doorstep.

Noah’s truck sits behind him. Trailer on the back of it, once again. Martin’s stomach drops at the sight of it.

“Can we talk?” Gabriel says, his smile is worn thin.

Martin steps aside, gesturing for him to come inside. “Go on then. I was just about to set the table.”

Gabriel kicks his boots off by the door. “Thanks but I don’t need anything, I’ll be quick, I just wanted to get something off my chest.”

The whole house smells like chicken soup, and despite Gabriel’s refusal, Martin ladles him a bowl along with his own. “Sit.”

They eat in tense silence for a while, before Gabriel finally speaks up. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think Noah is making a mistake in terminating the contract, so I’m going to tell you anyways.”

Martin doesn’t say anything, just lets Gabriel carry on.

So he is here for Tansy then. Figures Noah would throw in the towel at the slightest sign of a challenge.

“Noah hasn’t gotten back in the saddle since his accident.” He says, which is not the direction Martin thought this conversation was going to take.

“He spent a few days in the hospital. Was all eager to get out so he could go back to riding. But then when he was finally discharged and given the all clear, he just, didn’t.” Gabriel pushes a piece of potato around his bowl. “Kept making excuses, anything to get out of it, or to change the subject. Tansy has sat in a paddock ever since. It’s been almost a year now.” he shrugs. “I just thought you should know. This is why Noah is acting skittish all of a sudden. It’s not anything you’ve done.”

This complicates things. But it’s valuable information. Information that Martin wishes he’d had from the start. Maybe Noah has a bigger role in this than he would have liked.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. If you’re here for the horse.”

Gabriel shifts in his seat. “Like I said, I think Noah is making a mistake. I don’t think he’s thinking clearly.” That much is obvious. “If you’re on board, I’d like to see if I can change his mind before we take any drastic measures.”

“Think you can pull that off?” Martin is doubtful. Noah seems the emotional and impulsive type that’s hard to get through to once he’s made up his mind about something.

“I’m going to try.” Gabriel says, finally looking a little more at ease now that Martin seems to be willing to give them another chance. “Worst case scenario, Noah can come pick Tansy up himself, cause I’m not doing it for him. Maybe you can make him see reason, if I can’t.”

Martin snorts. “I don’t think there’s so much as a shred of reason in that kid.”

Gabriel chuckles at that. He shakes his head fondly. “No, you might be right about that.”

With dinner and their conversation wrapped up, Gabriel takes off, trailer leaving empty for the third time in a week. The two of them have bought Tansy a little more time, if nothing else, and if he’s lucky, Gabriel will be able to make Noah understand that terminating the contract now won’t do anyone any good.

He spends the rest of the day down in the pasture with the horses, enjoying his day off with his herd grazing around him. Tansy practically in his pocket the whole time.

Martin and Tansy get two more good days before the rumble of an engine and the rattle of a trailer makes Martin’s stomach twist.

He’s in a corral, working with the last client horse that’s due to leave tomorrow. And from here he can just barely make out the shape and color of the car that’s just pulled in. it’s Noah’s. Because of course it is. “Sorry bud. Be back in a sec.”

Noah is flinging a halter and lead rope onto his shoulder when Martin walks up.

“Noah.” He makes sure it sounds like the warning it is.

“Where is she?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer before he’s striding off down towards the pasture.

“Don’t do this.” Martin knows it’s a lost cause, but he has to try. “We can fix this. C’mon, we can talk it through inside.”

Noah ignores him.

“Noah, wait!”

He’s rounding the corner of the barn now, the horses come into view in the field below. Martin feels the fragile grasp on his self control snap like a frayed thread. “I said wait.” He grabs Noah by the shirt and, in a mirror of that day by the truck, he pins him to the wall, Martin’s arm across his chest.

“I know you’re scared.”

Noah’s eyes turn frigid. “You don’t know shit!” He struggles. “Let me go!”

Martin doesn’t budge. “Gabriel told me everything.” He gives the words a moment to sink in. “Are you going to give up on her, just because you’re a fucking coward, or are you going to man up and let me help you?”

Noah stares at him. Eyes wide with something that Martin can’t quite place. Fear, maybe, but there’s something else, too. He looks down at Tansy. The entire herd have their ears pricked in their direction, all except one.

“She’s not a lost cause, Noah.”

He bares his teeth. “No, but I am.” He sounds like he hates himself for admitting it. “I’m retiring. She’s going up for sale in the morning. I can’t do this.”

Martin’s heart breaks for him. The tears brimming in his eyes make him look so young, so small, like all that attitude really was just for show. A facade to hide just how torn apart he is underneath.

“You can.” He eases up a little, not letting Noah go, but letting him breathe at least. “You’re not a lost cause either.” He can’t believe he’s saying this. “Let me help you.”

Noah chuckles wetly. “You fix horses, Martin. Not humans.” He looks so resigned. Like he’s already given up.

“Sometimes the only way to fix the horse, is to fix the human too.” Martin gives in and wipes the single tear off of Noah’s face with his thumb. “I think this has cleared something up for me, about why Tansy is the way that she is. And I think that what you need, is to learn how to help each other.”

Noah looks up at him, eyes red and wet, same as his cheeks. “How do we do that, then?”

“First, we go inside, and we talk. Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright.”

[Part 3 here]

[wrappedinpinklace]

Mismatched, Chapter Two.

(Authors note!! this chapter is kinda short, mainly because i’m working on other things as well, but i wanted to go ahead and get this out since i don’t have much posted about damian and im still working out how i want the jason todd fic to play out. i wish i could just copy and paste from my brain 😩. anywaysssss much love, angel!!)

“You guys,” you said dramatically, arms flung over the back of the Hufflepuff common room couch, “you are not going to believe what happened.”

Duke didn’t even look up from his Transfiguration essay. “Let me guess. You tripped into another fountain.”

“Or accidentally joined a secret dueling club,” Jon added, upside-down on the rug and halfway through a chocolate frog.

“Worse,” you said, your eyes wide with intensity. “Damian Wayne defended me.”

That got their attention.

Duke blinked.

Jon slowly sat up.

“No, he didn’t,” Duke said flatly.

“Okay, technically he didn’t say something super heroic or anything,” you admitted. “But one of his Slytherin friends said something mean—like real mean, like I was this annoying little bug who wandered into their pureblood tea party uninvited and Damian? He shut them down.”

Jon squinted. “What exactly did he say?”

You leapt off the couch, already full of energy and reenactment potential. “So there I was, standing like a lost lamb among the wolves, right? And Sasha was all ‘Do we know you?’ and I was just being my charming self, but then she started making fun of me for the glitter explosion! And Damian just… rose from the bench like the dark prince he is and said get this”

You lowered your voice, deep and broody. “‘She’s not talking to you.’”

Jon burst out laughing. Duke let his head fall into his hands. “Oh no.”

You pointed a finger. “You’re underestimating the gravity of the moment!”

“I’m underestimating how you’re retelling it like it was a marriage proposal,” Duke muttered.

“And then,” you said, ignoring him, “he looked at me. Like really looked at me. Not annoyed. Not dismissive. Just… intense. Like I startled something in him. Like like I crawled in through a crack in the stone wall of his soul and now he’s questioning everything.”

Jon wheezed. “That’s not what happened.”

“You weren’t there!” you said, spinning dramatically in your oversized jumper. “You didn’t see his eyes. He practically told his friends to shut up and bow before me!”

“She blinked at him once and he blinked back and now she’s naming their future children,” Duke said dryly.

You flopped back down beside them with a sigh, grinning at the ceiling. “His loss if he doesn’t realize how utterly amazing I am.”

At that moment, your familiar chose to leap onto the coffee table, scattering a pile of quills and parchment like confetti.

“Muffin!” you gasped. “Rude.”

Muffin, your gray, one-eyed cat with far too much attitude for something so round, settled proudly in the mess she’d made, curling her tail around her paws like a queen surveying her kingdom.

“She’s just like you,” Duke said. “Loud, unpredictable, kind of alarming.”

“She’s loyal,” you corrected, giving Muffin a scratch behind the ears. “And very emotionally intelligent. Aren’t you, baby? You can smell soulmates. Can’t you?”

Muffin sneezed.

“I’ll take that as confirmation.”

Jon giggled again, and Duke just shook his head, but neither of them were really annoyed. They knew you too well. This was just how your heart worked: fast, bright, and all-in. You loved easily, wildly, without caution. Your crushes burned quick and hot, but this one… this one lingered.

Even you felt the difference.

Maybe it was the way Damian hadn’t looked at you like everyone else did. Or maybe it was just that under all that cold and control, you saw something real.

Or maybe you were completely delusional. But it was fun to hope. And that was more than enough, for now.

————

You hated Astronomy

You hated charts. You hated planets. You hated trying to remember which constellation looked like a bow and which one looked like a deformed duck. Most of all, you hated calculating star paths, because apparently you needed math for that, and no one warned you.

“I just don’t get it,” you groaned, slumping in your chair dramatically. “How do you measure the position of a star that’s probably been dead for a million years?”

Duke sighed, resting his chin in his palm. “It’s not dead, it’s just—”

“Light-years away, I know,” you interrupted, flopping backward so hard your chair creaked. “But what if it is dead? What if it exploded and no one told us and I’m doing a whole star chart based on a ghost? I can’t fail Astronomy because I believe in haunted space.”

Jon giggled beside you, flipping through his notes. “That is both the most and least scientific thing I’ve ever heard.”

You let out a long, dramatic wail and dropped your head onto the open textbook in front of you. “Just leave me. Go to your classes. I’ll rot here among the moons and misery.”

“We’ve still got five minutes,” Duke muttered, scanning his notes like he could delay the inevitable.

But unfortunately, time refused to bend to your will—unlike your friends, who were about to leave you to die. As they started packing their things, you clutched the edge of Duke’s sleeve like he was about to set off for war.

“You can’t leave me!” you whispered fiercely. “This is a crime against friendship.”

“I’ve literally gone over the star chart with you four times,” he said, deadpan.

“I was emotionally unprepared.”

“You were doodling Saturn as a donut.”

“I stand by my artistic choices.”

Jon patted your shoulder with a pitying smile. “You’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll have a breakthrough while you’re alone.”

“More like a breakdown,” you muttered as they waved and hurried off to class, abandoning you to your fate.

The library settled into a hush, as it always did, calm and slightly dusty, with floating candles bobbing high above and scrolls unrolling themselves along shelves. You sighed dramatically into your folded arms, letting the textbook cradle your despair. You weren’t even sure what page you were on anymore.

And that’s when he walked in.

You didn’t notice at first. Damian Wayne moved quietly, like a shadow gliding between the bookshelves. He was scanning the aisles with that permanent look of mild disdain, his hands tucked into his Slytherin robes and his posture effortlessly perfect, because of course it was.

He hadn’t even meant to look your way. He was just checking for an open table.

But unfortunately for him, he lingered. Just a second too long. And that’s when you lifted your head. Your eyes locked.

It was too late.

Your entire face lit up. “Damian!”

He visibly considered turning around. Just for a moment. You saw the micro-debate behind his eyes: fight or flight.

You sat up straighter, brushing hair from your face and gesturing wildly to your book-covered table. “Oh thank Merlin. A friendly face. Come to rescue me from the cruel, infinite void of outer space?”

He didn’t move.

“…It’s Astronomy,” you added, as if that explained anything.

“I gathered.” Still, he didn’t leave.

You took that as a win.

“Duke and Jon abandoned me,” you said, propping your chin on your hand. “They said it was ‘class’ but honestly, I think they were just emotionally unprepared for how dumb I am when it comes to stars.”

“You’re not dumb,” he said automatically.

You blinked. “Wait..was that…a compliment?”

“It was a statement.”

“Which is one inch away from a compliment,” you grinned. “Careful, Damian. People will start to think you have a heart.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped toward your table anyway, hands still tucked into his pockets.

“Do you even know where Polaris is?”

“…That’s the one with the belt, right?”

Damian closed his eyes slowly like he was begging the universe for patience.

You beamed.

“You’re staying, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “Only because you clearly need help before you confuse the moon with a white dwarf.”

“See? I knew you were nice under all that brooding.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure,” you said, sliding a spare chair toward him with your foot. “Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night.”

Damian sat.

And you smiled at the stars for the first time that day.

————

“You’re actually a good teacher, you know,” you said, half in awe, half in disbelief, as Damian calmly redrew a constellation for the third time. “Strict. Kind of scary. But good.”

Damian didn’t look up. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

“Well, I assumed you’d be the type to throw my star chart into the fireplace and say something cutting about natural selection.”

He glanced up, expression dry. “You’re confusing me with Tim.”

You snorted. “Fair.”

It had been almost an hour since he sat down. And somehow, the world hadn’t ended. You hadn’t exploded anything. He hadn’t stormed off in a cloud of contempt. In fact, you were… learning.

Like, actually learning.

You’d even stopped dramatizing your own suffering for a solid ten minutes, which might’ve been a personal record.

Damian had shifted in his seat beside you, his robes neat and posture perfect even now. His sketchbook sat closed near his elbow, slightly askew atop his bag. You hadn’t noticed it at first, too distracted by being saved from the black hole of astronomy.

But now…

“Is that your sketchbook?” you asked, tilting your head.

He paused, hand still over the parchment he’d been writing on.

“…Yes.”

You smiled. “Can I see?”

He didn’t respond right away.

You didn’t press, even though your curiosity was bouncing up and down like Muffin at breakfast. You could tell it wasn’t the kind of thing he usually let people see. Which, of course, made you want to see it even more.

After a moment, Damian sighed—quiet, like something inside him gave way. Then, without a word, he reached for the sketchbook and flipped it open with slow, precise hands.

Page after page of beautiful linework, clean, detailed, controlled. You recognized some of the creatures from Care of Magical Creatures: a Hippogriff mid-flight, a sleeping Niffler curled on a pile of galleons, a Thestral rendered in haunting, delicate strokes.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed. “These look like they could walk off the page.”

He didn’t answer, but you saw his jaw shift—just the slightest tension, like your words had reached a place he didn’t know existed.

And then he turned the page again. And your breath caught. You stared. It was you.

Your hair falling over your shoulders. The curve of your smile mid-laugh. A leaf tangled in your hair. Your eyes were squinted shut, like you’d just said something ridiculous.

But the way he’d drawn you, soft and intricate and focused, made it feel like you were something important.

You looked up at him, blinking.

“Wait… is that—?”

The sketchbook slammed shut.

Damian stood so fast the chair scraped the stone floor. “I have class,” he said sharply, already reaching for his bag.

You blinked again, caught somewhere between stunned and confused. “Wait, what? Damian—”

“Don’t be late for Astronomy,” he said without looking at you. Then he turned and walked off, fast and stiff like something had short-circuited in his brain.

You sat there for a full minute, staring at the space he’d just occupied.

Muffin, who had been curled beneath the table unnoticed until now, peeked her head out and let out a very unimpressed mrrp.

“I know,” you whispered, dazed. “But… that looked like me. Right?”

The cat sneezed. You weren’t sure if that was a yes or a no.

You shook your head and tried to refocus, but the thought lingered like a spell gone wrong, fluttering around your heart, impossible to pin down.

Meanwhile, across the castle, Damian sat in the back of Charms class, staring straight ahead, unmoving.

He didn’t hear a word the professor said. His hand was tight around his quill, ink pooling on his parchment. It had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to show her. Hadn’t meant to draw her so many times, either.

She was just… always there. Loud. Clumsy. Infuriatingly sincere.

And somehow, she had managed, without any permission at all, to become the only person he couldn’t stop seeing.

He scowled.

This was exactly why he didn’t get involved.