#'time to never bring that up again outside of going ^u^ when he shows up'

[minarcana]

Thancred smoothed a thumb side to side along the sheets of the bed in thought… it was more interesting that staring a hole into the wall waiting until his brain would let him sleep. He could hear Urianger reading behind him.

They’ve shared beds and makeshift sleeping places before in their youth… this felt different in so many ways.

He’d been pretending to sleep already when the Astrologian had come into the room, hoping that would ease the tension that had come with the offer of sharing the larger bed. Minfillia was given the “guest room” as her own, which was really just a space Urianger had been so thoughtful in putting together to give the girl privacy she has long been denied.

There was a couch in the main section of the cottage, but frankly the floor was more comfortable and Thancred would have continued to sleep on it until Urianger had caught him doing it the morning previous when the elezen had woken first by some curse of the twelve.

Now they were here.

Urianger attempting to read with the limited light of the room and Thancred pretending to sleep.

The Gunbreaker took a long inhale, and he could hear a page mid turn stall out behind him before Thancred rolled over and stared up at Urianger, already shaking his head as the other man opened his mouth to apologize for waking him.

“You didn’t—“ Thancred placated fingers streaming over the invisible line drawn down the bed, crossing the threshold to gently wrap a few fingers around Urianger’s wrist. He adjusted carefully, afraid if he moved too fast the man might just bolt, and moved both himself and Urianger a little so he could see the book too. “Light a candle… if you are to read, you may do so out loud.” Thancred reassured, a thumb smoothed against the soft inside of Urianger’s wrist as if he might still be able to feel the cool bands that rested there.

There was a long lull before Thancred spoke again with some shuffling for the Elezen to speak fire to the wick with care to read by.

“I adore your voice as I adore many things about you… surely you know this?” Thancred intoned, wondering what more he could do to share that swell of love and adoration that had sat in his chest for years for the other. “I wish you would not think yourself to blame so often,” Thancred wanted to reach out and smooth some of Urianger’s bangs back into their proper place, but he was feeling that urge to run he thought might be present in Urianger, wondering if it had been his own heart this time beating so fast in fear

Urianger had meant to set up sleeping arrangements for more than just Minfilia, but she had taken priority and then he had simply… been distracted by more important happenings. Making a bedroom for her that was welcoming and comfortable took precedence, and visiting the Crystarium to purchase supplies to do so takes some small amount of preparation. And if he were pressed about it, Urianger could not truthfully say he minded the fact there was only one other bed suited for occupancy.

He doesn't analyze the thought, or choose to acknowledge it at all, but the fact of the matter is that he would prefer if Thancred slept somewhere Urianger could keep an eye on him. There's a lasting anxiety that keeps prodding Urianger with imagining the future the Exarch told him of, where his friends lie dead, on top of acknowledging Thancred specifically has thrown himself into the most dangerous and tiresome path of them all, and hearing Thancred breathing eases Urianger's late-night worries.

There is also something he's well aware of that makes him extremely cognizant of the fact that sharing a bed would make Thancred physically closer to him than he's been in a while, and he could be forgiven for an accidental brush of skin. Even if that is rather selfish of him. That, he's come to terms with more than he has voicing his unnecessary worries about safety, as the former would probably sound like a dig at Thancred's capabilities and the latter merely an inconvenience.

As it is, Urianger sits on his bed, half reading a book and half absentmindedly listening to Thancred's breathing, in the dim light filtering from a muted table lamp that's barely enough to differentiate letters by. He doesn't want to wake Thancred, the other needs what sleep he can get. Urianger has heard the stories of his and Minfilia's journeying and sincerely doubts Thancred gets an even remotely acceptable amount of rest. So he stops mid-motion when Thancred inhales deeply, worried that movement from him or the bioluminescense of his nu mou-made night lantern was what roused him. Instead, Thancred shifts and grabs Urianger's wrist, stilling Urianger's worried attempt at adjustment immediately. “Ah?“ Thancred moves himself closely enough that he's leaning just a slight bit against Urianger, ostensibly looking down at the book in Urianger's lap.

”If… if thou shalt still commit thyself to rest for the evening.“ It's not the first time someone has implied to him that his voice is relaxing, though Thancred has not been one of those people afore this. It is incredibly distracting to work out that simple reply while Thancred's fingers shift against Urianger's unguarded inner wrist. Sir, please. He is doing his best to resist the urge to lean over, curl around Thancred and hold him to the constant feeling of affection for him that Urianger has realized since his settling in Il Mheg is just a part of himself now.

But that is an urge to resist. Urianger isn't sad over his certainty that Thancred is simply his friend, he's acknowledged that, too. A candle is procured, lit with the simplest of spells, and set on the table. Urianger debates if his urge to thread his fingers through Thancred's hair could be passed off as a generally amicable impulse. He's close, his head just barely a pressing weight against Urianger's side, and said urge is incredibly difficult to tamp back down. Just to touch him, a little bit, it would be fine if-- well, largely if Urianger were any other person, where a freedom of touch and gesture were less remarkable.

Thancred's voice coming back nearly startles him, Urianger lost enough in his own thoughts that he forgot Thancred was ostensibly waiting for him to do something. The choice of word Thancred makes is a jolt. Both times, 'adore' is a tugging feeling there towards his companion, Urianger's wide-eyed look of surprise and the beginning of an embarrassed flush about his ears just barely visible in the candle's glow. ”That which I know is….“ Not that?

That Thancred is his dear friend and companion and coworker, and they are not meant to have in other intentions toward one another, for they are coworkers and atop that Thancred's taste runs different from whatever category Urianger occupies. Urianger inhales deeply, holds his breath for a second, to marshal his thoughts. He has to choose his words, make exacting statements while his impulses are in turmoil. (With this undertones, is it not an invitation to reach out and touch Thancred as he wishes to? But invitations must be stated, less he misinterpret, and surely he misinterprets.) ”I knoweth only that which I am told.“

What are the many things, how does Thancred define 'adore'? One can adore a friend, a pet, one can adore a partner, too. If he misinterprets-- a series of words-for and aspects-of adoration (love) skims under his thoughts, almost voiced. (Would you like a list, Thancred, definition and example, for he could offer this whispered against the side of your neck, too embarrassed to look up but too fervent to stop?) ”And 'tis my fear that I may lose what I hold dear and hath tried my utmost to protect, should I overact.“

He does want to protect, both Thancred in general and his friendship in particular, his nearness and his ability to feel like he and Minfilia can rest in Urianger's care. This trust, he must keep above all else. There is a pause. Urianger leans down, close but not touching the other. “Thancred, if I asked thy permission to be close to thee, in touch or in emotion, what would thou grant me?” He doesn't quite know how he even would express himself in words, for all he's thought about and come to a simple acceptance of his thoughts he's never really needed to quantify them.

He has nothing more concrete to delineate with words other than that statement that he will take and perform whatever he is granted. He doesn't have exact words cut out and delineated, strung in neat sentences to express the tugging feeling that makes him want to hold Thancred against him, to become someone 'safe' and 'reliable' and to have attention he doesn't know how to ask for, either. Just tell him where the line is, so he can toe it, know his limits as to what would make Thancred step back and lose Urianger the trust required to have Thancred accept his protection.

[erwinsvow]

PLEASEEEE can u show the time where reader caught rafe punching the squishmallows that really sent me

"don't laugh, okay?" you say it softly, right outside the door to your bedroom.

"why would i laugh?" rafe’s asking seriously, but you're already a tiny bit embarrassed of what lies on the other side of the door and you're unsure how rafe will react.

"it's, like, a third of the size of your room-"

"shut up and open the door."

you sigh, turning the handle and pushing to let yourself in first. rafe follows, staring around the tiny room observantly. his eyes flicker from corner to corner, taking it in. you stand to the side patiently, playing with your hands, in particular the ring rafe had just gotten you, fiddling and twisting it repeatedly.

he walks around for a second, stopping at your bookshelf to take a look at the titles on the shelves and then moving on, staring at the photos on the wall and then sniffing a stray candle on the nightstand. he finally stops at your dresser, glancing over the lotions and perfumes littered on top to stare at the framed picture of the two of you perched right in the center, odds and ends he's gotten you in the last month scattered around.

"so?" you question quietly, eyes big.

"which drawer's got your panties?"

"rafe! shut up."

"it's a cute room. why'd you get so worried?"

"i don't know. habit." you settle on the bed, bringing your biggest squishmallow onto your lap, holding it in your arms comfortingly. rafe's still looking around.

"always had one favorite color, huh?"

"yes," you admit, squeezing the stuffed animal harder. rafe finally comes to join you on the bed, gesturing to the squishmallow as soon as he does.

"what the hell is that?"

"this is ricky. he's a clownfish. he has a career, i just can't remember-"

"huh?"

"they all have jobs and hobbies, rafe. the squishmallows. i think he's an underwater singer or something."

"you sleep with that huge thing on the bed?"

"every night. when i'm here, at least. i should get one for tannyhill!"

"don't know about all that." he takes it into his hands, moving it around, observing it from all sides. "every single night?"

"yeah. why?"

"nothin'."

the conversation changes to the books on your nightstand, and you forget all about the squishmallow resting on your bed until you step out to get a cup of lemonade for rafe.

walking back in, you wonder if you put enough sugar in, when you open the door to see rafe smacking your squishmallow with his right hook, right to his little face.

"what are you doing?!" it spills out before you can stop it, the lemonade almost falling out of your hand.

"look at the dent. how does it go back to how it was?" he questions, while you look over at him, horrified. "what's inside it? feathers, or some shit?" he looks over to get an answer, when he looks at your distraught face.

"what?"

even when he sleeps over, he's never allowed to touch your squishmallow again.

[soobnny]

dating him | yang jeongin

❝ why’d you come into my life so late? ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | JEONGIN

guys this one’s a secret romantic

even the boys are shocked when he tells them he has a gf now so casually

like WDYM ?!!??

anon said this but picture the boys eating at a restaurant

and the boys r like the food here is crazy good like how’d u find this place

and he goes idk my gf recommended it

and then there’s silence

before all hell breaks loose

bc wdym … wdym u have a gf and u didn’t tell us ????????????

dramatic faces of betrayal from hyunjin and han i can imagine bc their baby didn’t tell him

i think seungmin would know just bc they’re dorm mates and i think jeongin trusts to ask him advice without BOOKING him to the boys

he seems nonchalant on the outside, just a silly boy

but he’s the sweetest

i think he’d treat love so gently ☹️☹️

he’s always wanted to explore romance, always wanted to find it

he couldn’t ever admit it out loud bc he knows he’d get teased

he was the boys’ baby after all

and since he was the boys’ baby, by association, you were now their baby too

u two are the couple they adore

they act like they’re ur parents

chan dad mode activated

anyways he’s kind of emotional and sensitive

so i think the both of u navigate through love for the first time together

it’s a lot of ups and downs

BUT …. it’s led to him realizing just how much he loves you

i totally believe you’d go on either the most goofy dates or very expensive dates

no in between

he’d be the type to treat you and have staycations at 5-star hotels

you’d just cuddle and watch movies and eat room service

YES I SAID CUDDLE

even the boys were shocked when they saw it for the first time

bc ?!!!???? their baby ?!!!?? physical touch ?!!?

jeongin never minds when it’s with u

but it’s also something he’s had to learn

he’s very appreciative of ur patience

anyways back to ur dates

i can imagine u guys just buying a bunch of strawberry cakes and doing a taste testing

like u’d record it and everything

u can’t post it bc he kisses u like 928373 times in that video

there’s a makeout session like once

oh, and dinner dates

and very competitive rock paper and scissors over who pays for the food

except when he loses, he’d cheat and say he’d go to the bathroom but he’s actually paying for it

so keep ur eyes on that boy

i think he’d also be the type to really enjoy clothes shopping with you

you’d just put on a fashion show for each other

he’d end up buying a few things he rly liked on you

he’s got good fashion sense

might sneak in a matching item or two

maybe some shoes so it’s more subtle

jeongin also loves playing tourist in ur own city

the two of u would just walk around

visit some tourist spots

take pictures even

it’s just rly funny and rly cute

it feels a lot like being a kid again with him

u guys even buy useless toys for kids and bring them back to the dorm

😭😭😭😭

this includes like those little charms for kids

u two end up making craft bracelets and necklaces

and even tho they look ridiculous, u wear them in public

this is ur own version of promise rings

anywahs minho ends up taking some of the toys u’d bought for his cats

when the boys come home, u two are usually just cooped up in jeongin’s room

bc he wants his privacy!!!!!!!!

but when he lets it slip, and u two fall asleep on the couch, expect lots of pictures taken

i’m sorry

the boys are also emotional

they’d wake u up so u guys can have dinner together

he’d get so blushy and embarrassed and threaten his hyungs ofc

han jisung: when will it be my turn ???

they just want love from innie too

UGHHGHG kicking each other’s foot under the table while eating

he loves annoying u

but u love annoying him equally

when u aren’t over at the dorms

he’d be the type to text you random links on youtube at 3am

those charlie bit my finger type beat

gorilla destroys crocodile epic video

jeongin also gives me the “sends u things” vibe

u’d suddenly receive flowers without warning

or get those “did you eat?” texts and if u say no, yeah, best believe he’s already delivering food to u

hmmmmm u’d probably be his plus one in fancy events

but u guys end up ditching those to eat at fast food chains

yes … in ur very fancy dress and his rly sexy suit …. out in a fast food restaurant

u guys get weird looks but

jeongin doesn’t mind 🙁

as long as he’s happy with u

AWWWWWWWW

u guys also attend or volunteer for charity events together

i think he’s rly found his match

treat each other well !!!!!

congrats on finding love

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[gh0stsp1d3r]

What is… that?

warnings: none rlly, all fluff :3

@lampylamperson HOPE U LIKE IT !!

a/n: omfg this man IS TOO DAYUM FINE. am I back in my animated men phase ??

The last thing you expected while you waited for your husband to return, was for him to bring a giant kaiju baby with him.

You were sitting on the couch downstairs, your head being held up by your hand as you watched crappy tv shows, when you heard a loud banging noise from outside, you snapped your head up, to see kenji finally swimming in.

The door opened, and water flowed underneath Kenji as he slid onto the floor. “Mina! Emergency analysis.” He said quickly, you furrowing your eyebrows at his suddenness. You stood up, going to his side.

“Scanning for injuries.” She said, he breathed shakily, turning to look at you and back at Mina.

When she got to his hands to scan, he held them close to his chest, as if he was hiding something.

“Ken, this is very strange. According to my readings, you have a… a second heartbeat?”

“No. It’s not my heartbeat, Mina.” He moved his hands to reveal a pink dragon looking thing.

You gasped, eyes going what. “What… is that? Oh my god, Ken, is that a fu-“

“Yep, it’s the end of the world.” He interrupted, sighing, sitting up, the baby sliding down his body and to the floor. Your eyes were blown wide, in pure shock at the huge kaiju you had in front of you.

The baby looked curious, following Mina around as she floated.

“Um… is it okay?”

“She, ken. The infant is a she.”

She climbed all over Ken, trying to get to Mina with little giggles. You tilted your head to the side. “She’s kinda… cute.” You murmured.

“Her breathing seems normal. Reflexes okay. Heart rate seems slightly elevated, but-“

Ken grabbed her again, holding her in his hands. “Just give me the bad news.”

“I have absolutely no specific data on infant kaiju physiology.”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” He chuckled, putting the baby down. She eyed you curiously, and cooed a few times at you, reaching out. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mom and dad program everything they knew about these things into your electric brain.”

She began to walk towards you before Ken grabbed her again, pulling her towards him making you laugh when she had a little sad frown.

“She is not a thing, Ken. And we’ve never seen an infant kaiju. In fact, no one has.”

“Great, super helpful.” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, I think I’d be better off asking Siri.” He retorted, you rolling your eyes.

“I mean, Mina’s not the one that brought a giant freaking kaiju baby home, Ken.” You pointed out, he rolled his eyes and turned to you.

“Well, we have to figure something out. We can’t raise a damn… kaiju baby.” He told you, putting the baby back in front of him and groaning in annoyance when his color timer started beeping again. “Great.” He sighed, looking back at the baby when he realized something.

“Um…” he chuckled. “Why is she changing colors?” He pointed to her.

“Maybe you should ask Siri.” Mina retorted, making you stifle a laugh.

He chuckled. “Do not start, Mina.” He pointed at the robot in front of him.

“If I were to guess, Ken, I’d say she has imprinted on you.” She began to chew on his color timer, he quickly stood up and shook his head. “No. No. No, no! No, no, no!” He plucked the baby off of him, holding her out in front of himself. “Are you saying-“

“Yes, Ken. She thinks you are her mother.”

You had to laugh now, he bumped his head up onto the roof, letting out a yelp.

“I- I am not built for this! I’ve got a life. A title to win!” He groaned. “You do something nice and now I’m babysitting a giant- pink lizard thing!” He shouted. “We’ve gotta get it out of here.”

“And where would we put her?” You asked with a quirked eyebrow.

He groaned, looking down at you. His timer started beeping again. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh, we’ll take her to kaiju island!”

“Unfortunately, Ken, no one knows where to find it.” Mina points out.

He sighed, looking down. “Come on!”

The beeping on his timer became more rapid.

“Ken, it would be very bad if you changed back right now.” Mina said, as if he didn’t already know that.

A large burst of light and he was falling back down to you, you watching him thud onto the ground with a grunt.

He stood up, stretching before turning back to the baby behind him. He chuckled nervously, waving. “Hi…”

The baby’s face changed, her smile turning into a frown as she began to sob out, she let out a screech, large beams of light and energy coming from her mouth.

Kenji screamed, turning back to you and ducking down and grabbing you, pulling you flush to his body as he rolled over. All his cars had fallen, causing him to gasp out. You winced.

“What the heck was that?!” He shouted at the baby, you both standing back up, Ken still in front of you.

She let out more circles of energy, causing the both of you to run.

“She’s scared of you.” Mina spoke.

“Scared of me? She’s 20 feet tall!” He exclaimed.

“She doesn’t know you, she only knows ultraman!”

“Mina! Containment unit!” He yelled when you both had to continue dodging her attacks while running.

“Which one?!”

“The biggest one!” He shouted at her, you both finally panting and turning around when her screeching had stopped and there was no more attacks.

She was now in a giant glass container, her hands and claws on the glass, cooing with a sad face. Kenji sighed in relief. “Oh, God.”

You sighed as well, hitting your husband on his shoulder. “You’re cleaning this place up.”

“Oh, seriously?” He murmured, looking around.

“Hey, you’re her mother, not me.” You teased.

He groaned and shook his head at you. “I’m not her mother.”

“She thinks you are.”

He just rolled his eyes, lightly shoving your shoulder. “I hate you sometimes.” He murmured.

“You love me.”

[beenbaanbuun]

Seventeen’s reaction to their S/O laying their head on their lap

seungcheol

big baby

will not let you go for h o u r s so have fun being trapped!

tells you he loves you every 5 minutes because he desperately needs you to know just how much you mean to him

constantly touching you in some way just because it brings him comfort

“i love you so much,” he said for the millionth time, “i’ll never let you go, baby.”

jeonghan

says nothing but his smile says enough

he thinks that you’re the cutest thing on the planet, not that he’d tell you that

no, he’d much rather tease you

then when you inevitably pout at him, he’d just press a kiss to your lips to soothe you

“oh hush, you,” he’d chuckle as you separated, “you know i think you’re adorable.”

joshua

another one to relentlessly tease you

he doesn’t do it for any reason other than to see you blush… he thinks it’s cute when you squirm and hide your face

of course, that won’t stop him. he’ll just pull your hands away from your face so he can see just how precious you are

“you’re so clingy, aren’t you,” he chuckled, yet kept you pinned to his lap, “no, no. don’t get up, angel!”

he’d keep you there for a while, dampening down the teasing just so you didn’t attempt to get up again

hoshi

giggly!!!

literally will not shut up rambling about how much he loves you, but you don’t mind

he only does it because he loves the way you get shy

“you’re so pretty- no don’t hide! i want to see your beautiful face!”

will cancel every single plan he has just to keep you with him

jun

quiet but just because he gets shy

he’s the one blushing this time, but only because you keep telling him how pretty he looks from that angle

almost puts his hand over your mouth multiple times just to shut you up

finds you adorable, but doesn’t know how to express it so he just sits there and lets you ramble to him

eventually shuts you up by kissing you - you don’t like the interruption, but the kiss is welcomed…

wonwoo

another shy one

will just blush and stare at you as you do the same

quiet on the outside but on the inside he’s screaming

shows just how much he loves you by tracing your facial features with his fingers

pays extra attention to your lips before bending down and placing a kiss upon them

woozi

silent… you are not getting a word out of this man

he tries his hardest to continue whatever he was doing before you lay yourself on him, but he can’t concentrate anymore, not when you look so cute

of course, he’s much too embarrassed to tell you that

he carries on with what he was doing, albeit much slower and at a much lower quality than he would without you close by

“you’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters eventually, “how am i supposed to do anything when you’re so cute?”

seokmin

very vocal

practically squeals when you settle your head on his lap

will literally not stop touching your face or kissing you. how else is he supposed to react when you act so sweet?

there’s no escape for you, at least for a few hours. you’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it

“do you know how much i love you?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you to the moon and back, sunshine.”

mingyu

oh god… what have you done

another squealer except this time he won’t stop

rambles about how cute you are but goes into excruciating detail

“your lips are just so pink and pouty,” he brushed them with his thumb before his eyes flickered to something else, “and your cheeks! they’re so round and cute and… ugh!”

so overwhelmed by love that he can’t even finish half of what he’s saying before he starts getting excited and squeezing again

minghao

“can i help you?” he asks as if he’s not holding back an amused chuckle

when you don’t reply, he just smiles and let’s you get comfy

won’t tell you how cute he thinks you are, but he’ll show it

either brushes through your hair with his fingers or smooths his thumb against your cheek

very rarely stops what he’s doing to give you attention, but will 100% try and get it done faster so he can show you just how much he loves you

seungkwan

if you think jeonghan and joshua are bad, there would be no escape from this man’s teasing

but just like joshua, he has you tightly wrapped up in his arms so you can’t leave his side

will play with your hair or your fingers as he jokes with you

“oh you love me so much, don’t you?” he laughs, “you’re obsessed with me, right?”

would never let the teasing go too far though… he loves you too much

vernon

very awkward but in a cute way

“hello,” he says as you stare up at him, “did you need something?”

eventually realised that you don’t actually need anything and you just want to be close to him

who is he to deny you? so he just sits there and let’s you use him as a pillow

will try to watch something on his phone but inevitably gets distracted by how pretty you look lay on his lap like that

dino

no escape… ever

once he has you in his arms you best believe he’s never letting you go

pulls you ever further onto his lap so he can lock you in with a vice-like grip and properly cuddle you (squeeze you half to death)

will not leave your lips alone!!! spends half of his time pressing chaste pecks to your lips and the other half devouring you like you’re his last meal

insists on carrying you if you need to grab something from another room… he’s so serious about not letting you go

[jinxificada]

reserved affection

jinx x fem!reader

summary: while jinx deemed to be careless and independent, your devotion breaks down the walls.

notes: nsfw, mdni, wc 1,4k. SO apparently alot of u are pathetic needy losers like me since u liked that blurb sm i thought of writing it a bit more extensive heh. enjoy.

ཻུ۪۪ ༄࿐༉⁎ ⁺

her heavy steps echoed through the dark hallway, leading you to her hideout. you carry a big box of mechanical tools and pieces for her work as she grunts and complains under her breath.

she just left a meeting with silco and sevika, you weren’t allowed to be present but you still could hear the commotion from the outside. apparently, jinx made the tiny mistake of leaving a door unlocked in one of the shimmer factories, permitting a couple of addicts to get in there and steal very few rations. it could’ve been worse, that’s why she was scolded.

jinx was reckless, impulsive and a bit messy. but it wasn’t usual for her to make big mistakes, and if she did, she can take care of them just fine. you prefer not making a big deal out of them, specially because she got very sensitive after these situations.

she almost slammed the door closed on your face, well, she did, but your own feet stopped it. struggling, you followed her inside and rushed to leave her stuff. jinx was talking to herself, to the voices. you sighed and carefully approached her.

“jinx…” you called, your voice soft as well as your touch, though she still flinched when your hands reached for her shoulders from behind. “don’t worry about it, nothing major happened.”

“still—“ she huffed, not pulling away but neither reciprocating your affection as her own hands were busy gripping her own hair. “it was a mistake, the door— i forgot the lock and— shut it! he talked to me with that tone, sevika was there!”

“she dealt with it, forget it, it’s in the past now.” you tried again, walking to stand in front of her and gently take her hands, making her frown at you.

“you don’t get it, you never will.” she harshly said, “if i keep making mistakes he won’t let me go anywhere, i want to participate! i’m useful!”

“of course you are!”

she huffed again, skeptical. “you’re just saying that.”

that made you pout, even after years of devotion, she still doubted your words?

if someone knew jinx, it was you. having met her in the peak of y’all teenage years gave you the perfect panorama of her person. at first she was just a cool looking girl for you, someone who could bring a thrill to your depressing, boring life.

it was hard getting close to her, to convince her that you weren’t a threat and to break down her walls to know her story and see some vulnerability. in jinx’s defense it was an accident, you caught her guard down. and then, when you didn’t leave nor use any information against her or her father’s business, she kept you around.

in the end you were just a puppy following her around, you were just happy to be there for her. even though she treated you, well, like shit. but sometimes, you noticed she grew fond of you. she started to need you, your reassurance and your desinterested affection.

you showed a loyalty rare to find in zaun, and she appreciated it deeply.

“i’m serious,” you whined, fixing her disheveled hair and rubbing her cheeks. “you’re super smart, the cause will be lost if you don’t participate. silco needs you.”

your words combined with the soft caresses only fluttered her heart. warmth creeped up her chest and she pushed you away before you could notice her blush, walking to her work table to pretend being busy with something.

you don’t hesitate to follow, sticking to her back to hug her by the waist. “you’re perfect~” you hum, moving her braid to hide your face on her neck.

“you’re annoying…” she muttered back. jinx found it hard to push you away, she got scared the first time she felt comforted in your arms, breaking any chance of intimacy with sudden attitude towards you. but that was long ago, now she couldn’t help herself. she turned around with another murmur, “don’t leave a mark.” she warned, tangling her fingers in your hair to keep you close and try to guide your kisses. you were successful to distract her today.

“i won’t, i promise.” you shamelessly lie as you keep savoring her neck.

you wanted it to last forever. forcing your weight against her as soon as she lets you touch her. you gripped her waist, eagerly kissing and biting her pale skin.

“mhm, you taste so good…” you groan in delight, listening to her breath quickening and the quiet gasps.

“s-shut up.” she let you push her against her work table behind her, leaning her head back to give me even more space. “you’re smitten, hm—“

“f’course i am.”

there’s no shame in your voice, just pure devotion. you wanted her, you needed her. like air to breathe, you wanted to consume her.

her little puffs of breath only encouraged you to keep going. your lips smooched her neck and clavicle, urgently pulling at her top in an attempt to take it off.

“fuck—!” she huffed, obviously feigning annoyance again as she eagerly maneuvered to pull it off, exposing her chest for you. you moaned in unison when you took her nipple between your lips, you don’t lose a second to dig into her small breasts and worship every inch.

“lemme taste you, please,” you begged, “please please let me.”

“d’you deserve it, though?” she smirked, trying to control her quiet pants. you could only whine, rubbing your nose on her neck again as you hug her tightly, maybe this way she’ll soften up. “please, please, please.” you muffled pathetically.

you gasp when she pulled your head back from your hair, taking your lips in a deep, wet kiss. her tongue took control and you felt like melting.

you’ve kissed her many times, always needy and softly. she usually kisses back lazily, letting you have your way with her as if in obligation when in reality she craved the contact. but this was different, from the second she initiated it, she moved her lips fervently against your, forcing her tongue into your mouth.

and you easily submit, humming softly while you squeeze her bare waist in your hands. jinx surprised you again when she takes you to the old couch, pushing the couple of plushies and pillows to the floor to lead your back on the surface.

“oh— jinx?” you sighed, both eager and expectant to see what was she doing. you were about to look away when she stripped of her bottoms, but you found yourself hypnotized by her naked body.

“you wanted to taste me, baby?”

you sighed again, gazing at her with wide eyes as she accommodated herself on top of your stomach, “yeah.” you nodded, biting your lower lip in anticipation when she moved again to straddle your head, promptly about to sit on your face.

she doesn’t have to say anything else because you’re already sticking your tongue out, even raising your neck a little to finally reach her pussy. she was already wet, her silk folds opened easily as you mouth started to work for her pleasure. what a treat, you thought.

it wasn’t long before jinx squirmed on top of you, trembling and breathless moans echoed in the room as she rode your face with a neediness you’ve never seen from her. your hands tried to grip on her thighs to try and maintain a pace, but she was impatient and controlling. she looked down at you with a scrunched face, ready to complain, but the sight of your mesmerized eyes and the feeling of you tongue lapping and circling on her clit greedily…

her thighs trembled against your head, squeezing you tightly but you didn’t mind, doing your best to hold her to keep her from falling off, you kept working on her pussy as she lazily grinds down on you until it felt too much.

you almost whine when she pulled away, making space for her to drop on the couch next to you. you reached for her own underwear to clean the mess in between her legs, wishing she let you do it with your mouth again.

“feeling okay?” you softly murmured, seeing her twitch every once in a while in aftershock, jinx was extremely sensitive after the intensity of her orgasm.

“m’fine.” she whispered, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. she leaned her body to your chest and you don’t hesitate to cuddle her, moving her body to half sit on you for comfort. lovingly, you pepper her face with kisses, “dumbass,” she tried to keep up the cold façade, but it was useless. her soft smile gave her away, she enjoyed your affection and she craved it.

good thing you had tones to offer her.

[hapinesbuterfiy]

. ୨🪩୧ ₊˚ 🍒 ʚ ♡ ˚ 🎀 +

lets talk about rafe x fangirl!reader...

you love being a fangirl and all of the late release nights, hundreds of dollars spent in merch and concert tickets, and the constant hours of waiting in ticketmaster queues that came with it. having an insanely rich and obsessive boyfriend who would spend millions to make you happy had it's perks!

it took rafe a while to get used to your antics, never did he ever think he would be waking up at 2am to queue for a concert, but who else would be accompanying his girl? certainly not anyone else, he wouldn't have it. at first, he attempted to persuade you to buy actual seats instead of pit tickets with the "proactive person" approach. "are you fuckin' crazy? you're meanin' to tell me that you would rather sleep on the filthy fuckin' streets outside the venue waiting for hours when i could just buy you an entire box of seats? you're fuckin' insane." he stomps around your bedroom while standing above you, unable to fathom the lengths that you're willing to go to for a good view at a show. "rafe it's not the same you just don't get it! i need to be at the barricade there is literally no point in going if lana del rey can't watch me sob in front of her while singing pretty when you cry." he rolls his eyes at your remark, shaking his head in disbelief while sucking in his bottom lip. "yea—yea fuckin' barricade my ass, you shithead. lucky i wouldn't fuckin' make you go alone." you perk up, kissing his cheek in excitement. "thank you!" you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

you're passionate, to say the least! why would you spent countless nights sobbing to grainy eras tour live streams after taylor swift plays your favorite songs without you there alone when you could be doing it with rafe by your side? he thinks you're insane for crying over a song, giving you his best fake sympathy act each time it happens, which is practically every time she has a concert because her entire discography is yours. you try your best to make out words through your sniffles and sobs, "i hate taylor swift so much. why would she bring gracie abrams out to play i miss you i'm sorry without me there?" you continue to choke on your sobs and manage to pull yourself even close into his chest. "she's so mean i hate her rafe." he tries his best to console you but can't help but laugh at your disheveled state and the snot coming out of your nose over a song, he is rafe, after all. "baby— i don't know what to tell you. maybe she'll like play it again when you see her, i don't fuckin' know." he wipes your face with his thumbs, as he continues to laugh at you reaching out for his phone to take a video of you so he can make fun of you later for it.

you practically control the aux cord in his jeep, as his girlfriend it's basically your job to make sure he has good music taste! plus the same future songs that he plays over and over again are starting to become unbearable. "so this is thank u, next, it's literally ariana's best single like i swear i would not be the same person without this song it's so me core." he parts his lips in frustration, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "the fuck do you mean that's so me core? are you tryin' to say somethin' here?" he tries to pretend that he isn't enjoying it but you can hear him mumble "thank u, next m' im so fuckin' grateful for my ex." your eyes light up as you land a playful slap to his shoulder "see i told you it was a good song, you're too stubborn!" he completely disregards you, turning the volume up even higher so that you stop chirping in his ear.

you're a handful and a tad bit loud, but rafe secretly enjoys putting with your shit. you're his princess and if that meant he had to book an entire trip to italy just so you could go see harry styles for the last show on love on tour just to make you happy, he would be doing so!

[graysnetwork]

i was watching Gilmore girls at the beginning of the year i think and then i suddenly got the urge to watch again, so i'm finally on the last episode of season 2. Im completely in love with Tristan but at the moment i'm loving jess (i also searched up jess edits on tiktok and i've spoiled things for myself so i will be debating on skipping that one scene)

Also Ik this is not the best but I hope u guys like it

Warnings— none

Summary— Jess is turning into a great student and Luke not lorelai can think of a reason he’s become an amazing kid all of a sudden.

The library

Two full weeks, two full weeks had gone by now and no calls from the school had been made to Luke's phone. This was more concerning than actually getting calls from the school. And another notable thing was that Jess started leaving every day at the same time 6:30 and he'd come back home at 9:30 or even earlier.

Luke was getting suspicious but he didn't exactly know how to bring it up since it was very possible he was cheating on his tests, maybe copying off some one else for work. So he decided he'd mention it another day, and every time that decided day came by he'd put it off again, and again.

the two of them were in the diner, it was surprisingly very quiet, there was only one person which was also surprising and then the person walked out. Jess started cleaning up the table before checking his watch.

6:15

He dropped the towel and rushed upstairs, he came back down with a backpack, had he been hiding that thing?

"where are you goin?" Luke asked, finally looking up from the counter “somewhere.” “what do you have in there?” “some things” he shrugged and opened the door, before he could even get one foot out the door he could hear Luke’s heavy steps get closer to him, he turned around again.

“What do you have in there” Luke said again, “why do you wanna know, it’s nothing important” Jess rolled his eyes and checked his watch again.

6:20

“I’ve never even seen you come outside with a backpack, and I need to know if you’re stealing things again” Luke gave him an annoyed stare, Jess unzipped the the bag and showed the books in his backpacks.

“Oh” Luke muttered, and looked over to the side “happy? Cause I need to get going” he zipped the bag up again. “where have you been going?” Luke sighed, it was time he got the truth.

“why do you wanna know?” Jess rolled his eyes again, “because I gotta know these things” another sigh came out of Luke, and Jess mumbled something. It took a good few minutes to get him to admit.

“I’m goin to the library”

He said it quietly but at least it was coherent.

———

“You’re late” you smiled as Jess sat down in front of you, “I know, I’m sorry, Luke wouldn’t let me go until I told him where I was going and what I was bringing” he smiled back at you and took out his books. “well, you’re here now, that’s what matters to me, now what’s today? math?” You smiled again and the two of you started opening your books.

“Today is math day” jess nodded and started reading your math notes.

———

“Jess, in the library? Is he meeting behind it and doing something?” Lorelai drank her coffee, “I didn’t think about that” Luke said as he gave her a doughnut.

The moment very quickly ended when Jess came in and quickly went upstairs without saying a word, Luke and Lorelai could hear the thud from Jess’s backpack hitting the floor.

Jess came back down and grabbed a doughnut; pink icing. Very weird to the two adults in the diner. Unknowing to them the only reason he grabbed it was because you swore that the pink icing on the doughnuts taste different.

———

“So anything new and interesting happening?” You asked as you and Jess walked around after studying, it was the quickest you’ve ever studied but that was because it was English, all jess had to do was read and write some answers.

“no, but, if you call getting a new shipments for the diner interesting, than yes, there something new happening” he smiled at you, “sounds very interesting” you smiled back at him.

“what about you?” Jess turned to you again “what about me? Nothing” you shrugged “cmon there’s gotta be something that’s happened so far this week” Jess said, “there’s nothing, nothings happened, and im 100 percent sure nothings gonna happen” you smiled again at him.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled “how about I give you something to look forward to then since you’re free” Jess’s brows perked up, “really? how?” your hand reached up and grabbed his that was on your shoulder.

“how bout you, me, and chinese food, and we can do it on, Friday? You said your parents are leaving on Friday right?” He smiled as you two got closer to Luke’s diner.

“yeah, my parents are going on Friday.. that sounds like a plan” you smiled “it’s a date” he smiled. “Cmon I’ll walk you home” he walked past the diner “thanks Jess” you wrapped your arm around his waist as the two of you continued you way down the street.

-

“Did I see that right?” Lorelai’s eyes were wide and her brows were furrowed, “wow” Luke said, it was the only thing that could be uttered at the moment as they had just seen; You and Jess walking together.

“That must be why he’s going to the library so much! y/n’s always at the library!” Her mouth hung open in shock, it was silent for a few moments “y’know what, this is good” like said as he nodded while drinking his coffee.

“This is good?” She looked at him confused, “yes, he’s doing good in school, and it seems like he really likes y/n, as long as he isn’t hurting her, or doing bad things than I’m happy about this” Luke smiled “I guess this is good..” Lorelai smiled back at him.

———

[revasserium]

Zoro and the hunter's heart (as, you know, he's a former pirate hunter... nudge nudge)

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

a hunter's heart

opla!zoro; 6,553 words; fairytale retelling!au, fem!reader, no "y/n", hunter!zoro, fluff and angst (only a bit), hurt/comfort (kinda), mentions of witches and magic and curses

summary: there are some stories that the world can't stop telling

a/n: i should know better by now than to think an opla zoro fic could be anything but too involved... ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ tagging @dira333 bc its ur request and @bby-deerling bc u were kind enough to ask <3

It is a sordid tale, to hear the villager’s old witch tell it — one near and dear as the rise of the sun in the east, the set of the moon in the west, old as time itself. Because you see, there are some stories so ancient and so integral to the world that it bears, nay demands, retelling, reliving. Stories so stanch and certain that they wear groves into the truth of the world by the tracks they trail, over and over and over again. Stories that the world can never stop telling, no matter how hard it might want to or try.

This is one such tale.

“Take her into the forest — and bring me back her heart,” commanded the Queen.

The hunter had knelt before his queen and bowed his head, his swords heavy at his side. Inside his chest, his own heart was thundering, thundering. A storm brewing within the depths of his soul. But he’d schooled his expression straight and taken his orders.

You were nothing more than a kitchen maid, but you had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. All morning, he could hear it echoing through the cool stone halls as you went about your baking of the day’s fresh bread, your churning of the week’s soft butter. He’d lean against the wall just outside the kitchens to listen, to let the music of your voice wash over the ragged edges of his soul, to soothe his frayed ends, to mend what parts might have been broken.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering toward the gardens in the back of the castle grounds just to catch an echo of your voice near the wells, where he knows you’ll be in the early afternoons, collecting water for the day’s dinner service. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear it over the clink and clash of swords as he spars with his fellow knights and hunters, and he’d catch himself slowing, almost stilling, and those are the only times anyone’s ever managed to get the upper hand on him.

“C’mon doll, give us another tune.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, sing us a sea shanty! Or another one of your show tunes!”

Zoro frowns as he rounds the corner one day to find a few young knights leaning against the castle wall, towering over where you’re standing, a half-filled bucket of water clutched in your hands. He’s about to intervene when he hears the sound of splashing water, and a second later, the young knights are stumbling back, squawking with indignation as you huff, wiping your hands daintily on your apron.

“So sorry, seems like my hand’s slipped —” you drop into a rather sardonic curtsy before marching passed the stunned young men, leaving them blinking and drenched in your wake. Zoro chuckles, the sound making both of them whirl around, color rising ruddy into their cheeks. They sober immediately as they meet Zoro’s eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking them over.

“S-sorry sir… we just — we were uh —”

“Just leaving,” the second knight supplies as he grabs the first by the arm and tugs him back out into the courtyard.

Zoro watches them go with a muted amusement twisting his lips before turning back to find you peering up at him with a bright, steely light in your eyes. Your shoulder is pressed to the edge of the wall, your body half-hidden behind it as if you’re uncertain of what he might do. As if you’re uncertain of him.

“Sorry about them…” Zoro dips his head, suddenly very aware of how he must seem to you — just another one of the Queen’s toy soldiers, gilded in gold, touched by the sly silver of her cool, slithering magic. Would you think he’d be like them — like those bumbling idiots who couldn’t tell a board sword from a longsword? Who thought braveness and bravado one and the same? And suddenly, the thought that you might sickens him, and he swallows hard, hurrying to explain.

“Not all of us are…” Zoro’s voice trails off as he casts about for the right word — idiots? “Like them”? Neither seems to do it all justice.

He watches as you take half a step out from behind the stone wall’s cover and drop into a slight curtsey.

“I know.” And there’s a bright sheen to the soft whisper of your voice, a certainty that Zoro can’t quite place. And he knew then as he knows now that you — you are just a bit different. Just a bit more than he’d ever given you thought or credit for. Perhaps that was his mistake — he makes a mental note not to make it again.

“I know you’re not…” you wave a light hand towards where the other two knights had stumbled away, and the pinkness in your cheeks makes Zoro’s stomach do a few choice flips he’d never remembered his own stomach capable of till now.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then — you both break into laughter at the same time — him, a tad self-conscious, you, unbidden and bright as birdsong.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Your sparring form is really nice.”

You both speak at the same time, and in the startled quiet that stretches right after, Zoro finds himself held still by the weight of your eyes, the heaviness of your gaze as it rests on him, wide and startled and… almost pleased. He clears his throat and tries again —

“I hear you all the time —”

“I see you sometimes —”

It happens again, and when you both pause this time, he can see the burgeoning smile threatening to spill over your petal-pink lips; he can feel his own smile breaking like ice in spring’s first thaw.

“I don’t know much about music but —”

“It looks like you’re dancing —”

By the third time, Zoro’s starting to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, or perhaps he is — because what wouldn’t he do to keep on basking in the sunshine of your laughter, to soak in the brilliance of your smile? What stars and moons and planets wouldn’t conspire to align just for another chance to glance into the midnight dark of your eyes, as depthless as any sea, as wide as any self-respecting night?

“Well —” Zoro clears his throat; you purse your lips and wait for him to finish, “I’ve never danced…”

Mischief hinges on the edge of your smile as you peer up at him through your lashes, “You should try it sometime. I hear it’s quite the workout.”

And there’s something singing beneath the sweetness of your voice that hints at a darker, more intimate meaning to the word dance, but Zoro stops himself before his mind can unspool entirely. He sucks in a breath and chews over the words now sitting solid and unwieldy on his tongue —

“I’ve always thought dancing… required music and —” he swallows and forces his sentence onward like shepherding a stubborn and reluctant bull, “a partner.”

You let your held lilt sideways, watching him like a bird on a branch might consider a squirrel on the ground.

“It’s just… I’ve never quite had either before,” he hurries to explain, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and finally, he forces his eyes away from you, glancing up towards the piercingly blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. He curses inwardly, his eyes wandering for something — anything — to latch onto that’s not you and your mesmerizing eyes, with the universe caught behind them, or your lips, shaped so much like the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking for his whole, entire life.

He watches as you square your shoulders and take a half-step into his personal space, just the tips of your toes grazing into the proximity of too close and at the same time not nearly close enough — then, you dip into a curtsey, lowering your eyes so he has nothing to ground himself on except for the brief breath of your skin, the waft of your hair sweeping down over your shoulders, smelling so much like cotton and milk, salt and honey.

“But now, from where I’m standing…” you look up, and your smile is so much poisoned apples and cyanide, “you’ve got both, don’t you?”

Zoro sucks in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head spinning for a second too long and he almost stumbles. Almost. But he catches himself, and when he does, his body moves as a marionette on a string — as if his arms and legs already knew what his mind had for so long kept from him —

He dips into a bow, sweeping one arm over his stomach, the other out to the side. And there’s no dull, discordant clank of armor because hunters and soldiers are made different. Fighters, both, but hunters require a different kind of bloodlust, are a different strain of heartless.

You let out a soft laugh and Zoro wonders if there’s any better music in the world as he offers you his hand. You take it, and he draws your body near with reverent palms, exhaltant fingers — he can almost feel the wild birdwing beat of your heart fluttering in your chest, supplemented by the thundering of his own much more well-trained heartbeat, but even so, the dull pulse of it makes him feel heady with excitement — thump, thump, thump.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pair of you begin to dance. At first, just to the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths and his. And then, you smile up at him, a startling, chest-piercing, swan-song thing — as you begin to sing.

His first step is hesitant, and the second less so. By the third, Zoro feels his shoulders flattening out and his chest rising as he clasps your palms against his and takes the lead. You let him, with a tinkling laugh, your smile light and bright as daybreak. Your feet skip like pebbles across a mirror lake, and by the time he lets you go, the midday sun is beating down over the castle grounds and the lunch bell is ringing off in the distance. You skip out of his reach and drop into another curtsey —

“Seems like it’s past time for me to go.”

“But —” Zoro bites back the urge to chase after you, his body surging forward to try and stay within the warmth of your orbit.

“Tomorrow,” you breathe, your cheeks a bit too pink, grinning up at him with mischief in your eyes, “after the morning meal… I think I might have some more water to collect.”

You shoot him a meaningful wink as you sweep by him, humming beneath your breath as you go. You brush by him with a sweep of skirt-tails, and it’s a full minute before Zoro can form a coherent thought, whipping around to see the shadow of you disappearing around the corner of the long corridor that leads down to the kitchens.

Up above, neither of you sees the Queen with her blood-red nails clicking against the wide windowsill, her eyes trailing the shape of Zoro as he sucks in a long breath, and shakes himself, before heading back to the training grounds, his earrings catching the afternoon light in a series of gold-gilded sparks.

The next day, Zoro finds you dancing to a two-step by yourself, a bucket of water propped on your hip, the late morning sun caressing your skin like a lover’s fingers. And he finds himself held still by the sight of you, your eyes closed, your body swaying to the rhythm and breath of the earth, the sound of your voice filling the air as water might an already-full glass — spilling over and over till it soaks the earth between you both.

He clears his throat, and you open your eyes. You smile.

Almost sheepishly, he offers you a hand. You take it, and the half-filled bucket is left to teeter precariously on the well’s stone-worn edge as you laugh, letting Zoro pull you in, his palm pressing to the bend of your waist, fingers skimming the small of your back.

Three days, you dance. Three days of blissful mornings and sun-soaked afternoons. Three nights of moonlit walks and roses dipped in starlight.

Because the best things in the world always come in threes — but it just so happens that so do the worst.

Zoro feels his skin crawling when he receives the summons from the Queen. There is only one reason the Queen would summon a hunter like him — she’s found something (or someone) worthy of being hunted. He prays it will not take him away for long.

“Zoro…” the Queen purrs, barely turning to look at him as he bows his head, holding the pose for three beats before straightening. She reaches up to grace her fingers over the edges of an ornate mirror hanging on her wall — a mirror she covets. Zoro has seen its magic, the dull, rough-edged ache thrumming through the earth and the air like poison. He schools his expression into one of flat disinterest as he squares his shoulders.

“Your Highness.”

“I trust you’re familiar with my mirror?”

Zoro makes a soft noise of consent, cold slipping down his spine like cool fingers.

“Then… I trust you know what it does?” the Queen asks, peering at him through it’s dark, onyx reflection.

Zoro glances down, “I can’t say I do, Your Highness.”

“Well then, I’d say you’re in for a treat today —” she chuckles, the sound soft and slithering, her painted lips twisting up in a cruel smirk, “this is a magic mirror, you see… and it’s magic… tells the truth —”

Zoro remains quiet, waiting, waiting.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Zoro feels the air around him condensing, the temperature dropping as the heat siphons from the room into the mirror. The darkened surface swirls with a sickly, purple light before a pallid face appears, empty eye sockets and a hollow mouth. The skeletal reflection peers imperiously back up at the image of the Queen standing before it.

“… tell me, who is the fairest in all the land?”

The Queen preens in front of the mirror, and Zoro feels his stomach filling with lead weight at her question.

Once upon a time, he’d met a kindly old witch in the woods. Her hut had been made of something that looked curiously like gingerbread, and the flowers that decorated her windowsill had glimmered with the shine of tempered sugar. He had offered to help her carry a basket of waxy red apples from the market to her hut and in return, she’d offered him the answer to one question.

“What… exactly is magic?” he’d asked, young and uncertain.

She’d laughed a laugh that might’ve once been high and imperious but then had only sounded like an amused old woman faced with a question she hadn’t quite expected.

“Magic… well — I’ll tell you this — magic is always more than meets the eye, and never what it promises.”

Zoro had blinked, frowning as she’d peered up at him with a pair of mismatched eyes — one milky and filmed over, the other dark as crow’s feathers.

“What does… that mean?”

“It means… that sometimes, magic lies. Sometimes… magic only tells you what you want to hear. Sometimes, magic is more about what you think is true because in the end… that’s the only truth that matters.”

The magic mirror contemplates the Queen’s question as Zoro stands behind her, holding his breath.

“There is but one fairer than Your Highness —”

Zoro’s vision tunnels, the voice of the mirror thickening around him as if his head were suddenly submerged in water. Heat creeps up the back of his neck like spider’s legs, quick and skittering, and he knows the answer before the mirror says your name.

“I see…” the Queen muses, though Zoro can hear the hard edge in her voice, the light catching on it like a twisting blade as she turns back around to face him. And she is beautiful, there’s no denying — the Queen’s face was, up until very recently, what Zoro had thought true beauty must be like.

He’d understood it only in the most abstract, academic sense — beauty — had only ever nodded when the other knights and hunters had wolf-whistled at the rosy-cheeked maids that dotted the castle, scattered along the halls like handfuls of sugar.

The first time he saw the Queen, he’d wondered at the perfect proportions of her eyes and nose, the dark, certain arch of her brows, the cruel tug at the ends of her painted lips and he’d thought — ah, is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he’d seen you, hadn’t he? And your face — he knows it is not perfect, he’s leaned in close enough to see the texture that mars your cheeks, the way one side of your mouth always lilts up first in a smile, the flecks that adorn your eyes like lost shards of sunlight caught beneath your lashes —

Beautiful, he’d thought.

Later, he wonders if that moment might’ve been your doom.

“Take her into the forest,” the Queen says, smiling her cruel, cruel smile as she watches Zoro lower his head, “and bring me back her heart.”

Zoro swallows hard as he bows.

You are waiting for him the next morning, just after breakfast, your hands laced behind your back, an empty bucket resting precariously along the edge of the well.

“No dancing today,” Zoro says, his voice clipped and low, his gaze darting away toward the darkness of the forest behind you. You blink up at him before following his gaze.

“Then… will you accompany me on a walk?”

Zoro frowns, nearly wincing away from you as you lean in, grinning your sly fox’s grin.

“But…”

“Oh, don’t tell me a hunter like you’s scared of the forest.” You dance away from him before he can protest, reaching for the bucket and propping it on your right hip, “C’mon, I promised the head cook I’d pick some berries for the feast tonight. Didn’t you hear? The Queen’s finally found a spell for eternal youth and beauty.”

Zoro stares after you as you pick your way across the garden, making for the wrought-iron gates that separate the castle grounds from the wilderness beyond.

“A spell for…” Zoro’s frown deepens as you glance at him over your shoulder with a sad little smile.

“They say the Queen was cursed by a powerful witch to always search for that which she can never have.”

Zoro keeps behind you as you meander into the shadow of the trees, seemingly following a trail only you can see, occasionally stopping to bend over a burst of bright red berries, picking a few and tossing them into your bucket before pressing one to your lips. He watches as berry juice dark as blood tints your lips and trickles down the edge of your mouth.

“Did you know… that there are only three ways to break a witch’s curse? One is for the witch herself to lift the curse.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, your eyes shine like twin stars.

“Another is to kill the witch and all those who cared for her.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, the lopsided lilt of your smile flashes white, and sharp, dripping dark red —

Zoro’s sword is in his hand before he realizes, and suddenly, every twig-snap and leaf-rustle sets his bones on edge. The wind tastes sweet on his tongue, swirls thick with magic as he whirls around, searching for the silhouette of you and finding nothing but endless, pressing dark.

“Zoro?” your voice nearly makes him stumble as he twists around, eyes wide, chest heaving, only to find the tip of his sword resting against the delicate hyphen of your clavicle. Your breath hitches, soft as he’d always remembered it, but you don’t pull away; you don’t even flinch as you stare up at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Are you going to kill me?” your voice is low and smooth, without a single flicker of fear.

Zoro’s grip loosens as he forces himself to pull back. He hisses out a breath and shakes loose his shoulders.

“No,” he says, his own voice coarse, clipped, “I’m not. But —”

“Oh good — that would’ve made things rather awkward for our date.”

Zoro gapes as you laugh, twirling around to continue on your way through the forest. He hastens after you a few seconds later, brushing aside low-hanging branches and shouldering passed thicker bits of underbrush.

“D-date?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sounding very pleased as you lead him on, and on, and on, “you wouldn’t want to miss it — grandma’s baking pie.”

“What… ” but his words trail off once more as you turn and make towards a clearing that he’s certain wasn’t there a moment ago — a clearing with a tiny hut that looks as if it’s made of gingerbread. The flowers on the windowsill glitter jewel-bright and candy-hard.

“My grandma’s house,” you say, smiling as you push through the door with your bucket of blood-red berries still perched on your hip.

Zoro’s frown carves ever harder into his brows as he follows after you on hesitant feet, though he can’t help the way his muscles loosen the second he steps over the small hut’s threshold and catches a whiff of something wonderful in the air — cinnamon and sugar and apples.

“Ah, you’ve made it just in time!” the old witch looks up from where she’s tending a vast fire that casts the entire hut in a warm, ethereal glow. Zoro glances back at the open patch of cloudless blue sky somehow visible in a small gap between the trees before stepping in.

“Apple pie again, grandma?”

“Your favorite,” the old witch replies with a grin as you set the bucket on the small wooden table, “And I see you’ve brought a guest, though…” the old witch’s single black eye catches the firelight as she peers are Zoro, still standing just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you again, young man.”

Zoro bows, rather awkwardly, and though it’s been many years since he’d helped the old woman with her apples, she looks exactly the same. He can’t say quite the same for himself.

“Come, sit! Have some berry wine,” you say, ushering Zoro towards the table, where you’ve somehow replaced the bucket with two jars of red liquid that glimmers like garnets in the flickering firelight. You pour a glass and nudge it towards Zoro, who simply stares, trying very hard to wrap his head around what must be happening.

A dull, thrumming ache is gathering at the base of his skull, but the pie smells so sweet and the wine looks ever so tantalizing.

He reaches out and takes a sip, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. He feels it slither through him, sending tiny pin-pricks of heat trailing along his limbs as he swallows.

“Ah… so he’s not like the rest of them.”

He blinks down at the wine in his cup for a second more before you reach out and tug it from his hand. A soft palm cups his cheek and forces his face up. He meets your eyes and finds them searching.

“You weren’t lying… you really hadn’t planned on killing me.”

You sound almost surprised as your grandma chuckles behind you, the noise like the clack of old stones against one another.

“I told you he was different,” the old witch says, slowly slicing a bit of pie and putting it on a plate.

“All men think they’re different,” you say, your voice resigned as you take the slice of pie and set it in front of Zoro, “Right, now eat — it’ll make you feel better. I’m sorry about that… just… you can never be sure.”

The old witch tuts, shaking her head, “A broken heart is it’s own kind of curse, you know.”

Zoro blearily takes a bite of cake and feels his senses returning to him one by one; he takes stock of them as if he’d forgotten entirely that he’d lost them in the first place. As he chews and swallows once, twice — by the third time he can feel the tightness in his muscles returning as panic and confusion flood his system.

He jerks up from the table and reaches for his sword.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” you say, though you sound hesitant as you hold up a hand, your expression earnest as you take half a step back.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he seethes, looking between you and the old witch, uncertain of who to aim his anger at.

“I had to be sure,” you say again, your voice imploring as you inch forward, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah well —” Zoro gulps past the dryness in his mouth as he narrows his eyes, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

You wince ever so slightly, looking away, “No, you’re right but… please,” you say again, and the word works like magic as it settles over Zoro’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s actual magic, but no — there’s no strange sweetness in the air, no thick fog threatening to cloud over his judgment.

“It might be quicker to show him,” the old witch suggests, still watching the pair of you with her one oil-black eye, sounding pleasant and entirely unfazed.

“Right… yes —” you sigh, motioning for the door, “The sty is just out behind the hut — you can go out first if you’d like,” you offer.

Zoro looks between you and the door before inching back and edging open the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you follow him with light, muted movements.

The air outside is crisp and cool and Zoro can’t help sucking in a breath as he steps out from the halo of the firelit hut. Grass crunches beneath his feet, birds sing overhead. There’s the lingering heat of magic still crackling in the air, but when his gaze falls back onto you, he finds you no less lovely than he’d done the first time.

“This way,” you say, rounding the edge of the hut and leading him towards a sizeable pigsty that he’d completely failed to notice the first time he’d been here as a young boy.

A looming sense of dread calcifies in the base of his stomach as he approaches the pigsty on heavy feet. The pigs all jostle against one another, snorting and snuffling with their noses pressed into the long feeding pen. From the pockets of your skirt, you produce a handful of bright red berries and toss it into the pen. Zoro watches with mixed fascination and mounting horror as the pigs tumble over each other to forage for the fruit in the dried hay and mud.

“Have you ever heard the saying that… there are some stories the world never stops telling?” your voice is quiet and sad as you reach over to skim your knuckles along the pale pink snout of a snorting pig.

And suddenly, Zoro understands — he doesn’t know if it was a trick of the light or perhaps the magic still working its way through his system but the understanding comes like a rainstorm, a few tiny droplets before the downpour. And were he a weaker man, he might’ve back and tried to make a run for it. But instead, he stands and stares with a strange pity welling up inside him at the lolling tongues and flopping ears.

“These were all men — hunters,” he says, his words slow at first, but picking up speed as he continues to speak, “Who tried to lure you into the wood to —”

“To kill me, yes, so that they could give the Queen my heart. Because you see, the heart of a witch would give her what she so desperately desires —”

“Eternal youth,” Zoro breathes.

“And the first time, I was heartbroken,” you turn away from him, pressing a hand to your heart, “But I managed to get away. And instead of going back empty-handed to face the Queen’s wrath, the hunter caught a wild boar in the forest and cut out its heart instead. Only — an old she-wolf had been hunting the boar for days, and was robbed of a meal. She and I… we came across each other and I was so — so hurt that I offered her my heart in return for putting me out of my misery.”

Zoro presses his lips as your words rush from you in a great wave, pieces of truths crystalizing before him even as they continue to shatter the world he thought he’d known.

“She told me then that… no man is worth dying for, especially not one who would lie to you just to steal your heart. And she offered to teach me —” you wave a hand at the pigsty, “And the rest…”

The soft silence that stretches between you is thin and pained. You cradle your hands to your chest as if trying to stem the hurt of some unspeakable heartbreak.

“And… the wine?” he asks.

Your face lifts and a strike of that familiar, mischievous light returns to your eyes as you grin.

“That was something I brewed up on my own — if the drinker bears me any ill intentions, then it’ll turn them into something a bit more… fitting of their true hearts. But if not then…” you grace him with a soft smile, “Then it’ll only ever just be wine, though a bit on the stronger side.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

A brief silence falls between the pair of you as the sky above begins to shift from blue to a soft lavender.

“You said… the first time,” Zoro says, curiosity now burgeoning from beneath the receding shock of the day, “Do you make a habit of luring men into the woods, then?”

You scoff, “Luring? Hardly. Magic can only do so much, and though the odd enchanted trinket will sell well at the monthly market, people still tend to be wary around witches.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Zoro says dryly, his eyes flickering toward the sty where the pigs, finally satisfied that there are no more berries to be found, have settled into the thick stacks of hay, grumbling and snorting.

You allow him a derisive smile, “Yes well — a girl and her grandmother still have to eat and bathe, and you can only stand so much apple pie before it starts to get a little old. So… I keep a job at the castle. Believe it or not, serving a self-obsessed Queen pays well. And all those… men —” you force out the word like spitting out poison, “Had seemed… good. At least at first.”

Zoro remains quiet as you pause, looking down at your own hands. It’s the first time he notices the light calluses that mar your palms, not so different from his own. He wonders at the smoothness of the handles on the wooden bucket you’d carried so easily through the woods, at how long it must’ve taken for a pair of hands like yours to wear them down so. The old witch’s words echo in his mind — a broken heart is it’s own kind of curse.

“Is that how you got so good at dancing?” he asks.

You grin, giving him a sidelong glance, “Perhaps.”

Zoro sighs, tilting his head back to look at the small patch of visible sky, now a deep, bruising purple.

“So. Now what?”

You echo his sigh, looking up as well, “You can go back, if you’d like.”

“And what? Tell the Queen that you got away?”

Your smile hardens ever so slightly, “Or, you could kill something else in the forest and offer her it’s heart instead.”

“But wouldn’t she know? After she ate it and doesn’t gain eternal youth?”

You shrug, looking away, “You’d be surprised what a person can trick themselves into believing, if they just try hard enough.”

Zoro nods, letting his eyes fall back down to his hand, resting idle against the hilt of his sword.

“Or, I could stay.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it — and perhaps it was the darkness of the forest, the close, flustered whisper of the leaves, or perhaps it was the lingering sweetness of your home-brewed wine and the tantalizing smell of magic and cinnamon still in the air. But he says it, and he finds that even the strange, still shocked moment after, he doesn’t regret it.

“You… you want to stay?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so uncertain before.

“Why not? I can’t go back and…” he motions at the hut and the soft ring of warm firelight seeping out from the tiny windows, “The wine’s not bad.”

And perhaps for the first time, Zoro thinks, he sees you smile — a smile that isn’t sharp and full of hidden teeth. A smile that’s helpless and hopeful and just a little bit pained. He smiles back and hopes —

“C’mon then… you can help with the fire. And carry the water.”

“Hn. But you seemed so good at it.”

You shoot him a slight pout as the pair of you duck back into the hut to the smell of roasting vegetables.

There are some stories the world can never stop telling, stories so old that the sing harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf, a grandmother, and a girl in the woods. Once upon a time, an old witch built a house of gingerbread to lure in the lives of unheedful children. Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic mirror. Once upon a time, a witch lived alone in a secluded hut and lured men to her table only to turn them into the pigs they’d always been inside.

Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to dance.

Once, a boy told the truth and the girl didn’t believe him, because all the boys who’d broken her heart before had given her no reason not to. And a heart can only be broken so many times before it, too, gets tired.

Once, she thought that broken hearts could never be mended.

But she should’ve known that stories, like the magic they hold, very rarely tell the truth. Or perhaps, they too only tell the truths that the listener wants to hear, or is ready to hear. Never more, never less.

So, here is another story — one that’s not so frequently told, but is just as true as the others —

Once, there was a boy who was born with a sword in his hand, who had never know that his body could hold so much music or laughter. Then, he met a girl with the most beautiful voice in all the land, and he, like so many before him, fell in love. Only, the girl had been hurt by all those before him, and no longer trusted the words of boys with sword-hilt smiles and rough, callused fingers. But when he asked her to dance, she agreed anyway, and when she introduced him to her grandmother and offered him wine, he did not hesitate. Instead, he asked if he could stay the night.

That was a long, long time ago.

There will always be another girl with a pretty voice and a viper’s smile at the castle beyond the woods, and always another young knight too eager to please his Queen. There will always be apples at the morning market and magic in the air. But perhaps the pieces don’t fall right where they ought to; perhaps they never did. Perhaps the stories we tell are only ever stories.

“You told me once that there were three ways to lift a curse,” Zoro asks one day, a wooden bucket in one hand, three swords strapped to his opposite hip.

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking up from the large pot of soup bubbling over the fire, a song threading beneath your breath as you sway back and forth.

Zoro grunts as he puts the bucket on the worn wooden table, walking over to slip an around your middle and hook his chin over your shoulder. You laugh as you let yourself be pulled back into his embrace.

“You only ever told me two.”

“Ah… right —” you smile, a smile that is no longer jagged but worn soft around the edges, as if all the sharpness has been smoothed over by years and years of tenderness, years and years of trust, of love.

“So?”

“So…” you place down the wooden spoon and turn to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as his large, callused palms settle around your waist. The pair of you sway to a song that only the two of you can hear, a song that sings harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

“The third way to break a curse is the easiest… but also the hardest way, depending on who you are,” you say, smiling and swaying in Zoro’s arms. Like this, you can see the late afternoon light as it pours through the small window and catches on the dull gold of his triplet earrings.

“It’s a simple thing, really,” you say, as Zoro leans down to press his forehead to yours, your breaths dancing in the negative space between your bodies. Outside, an old witch sits on a rocking chair and admires the sunset. Occasionally, she reaches into her skirt pockets for a handful of berries to toss into the pigsty to her right.

“Oh yeah? How simple?” Zoro asks.

“Why…” you lean up on your tiptoes, your nose brushing his, your lips mere inches apart. Behind you, bottles and bottles of home-brewed wine sit along the mantle of the great stone fireplace, the color bright and true and freshly spilled blood.

“It’s as simple as a kiss from your one true love, of course.”

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part sixteen

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: drug use, alcohol, plot twist

author's note: okay i have to admit i havent sat down and wrote in awhile so pls forgive any errors, love u all

The following days felt rather protracted for Rafe since your sudden egress that morning at the Cameron's residence. His father was still absent as usual, likely plotting some sort of reprisal for the threats Rafe had made at the dock since it was unlike him to let such a thing go that easily. Truthfully, Rafe couldn't have cared less about whatever vengeance his father was brewing in his depraved mind, he could only seem to think about one specific thing as if his thoughts were a record that only had one track to play. You.

The hypothetically 'reasonable' thing to do would be to reach out to one of your friends, but knowing them, they'd glue their mouths shut before giving away where you were to him. But aside from the Pogues, there was really no one else to go to for answers besides them. Rafe knew you had a tumultuous, basically non-existent, relationship with your parents, therefore they'd be rendered no use in the search for you. Every option seemed to lead to a dead end for him, seeing how you kept your circle of friends diminutive and your family disconnected. It was practically impossible to find you.

Rafe realized he had made a mistake showing up unannounced when you had returned to the island, and that it had nearly drove you to despise him even more than you did before. He couldn't make the same mistake again, not when your view of him was now dimmed and tainted by the allegations that he was out to destroy you and your friends. The relationship between you and Rafe was more fragile than ever, and Rafe wondered if the situation itself was enough to diminish any chance he had of being with you again.

It felt like a cruel joke was being played on him. He finally had you back after two years of longing to see your face again outside of a chipped pixelated phone screen, an agonizing wait that was worth every minute of affliction he endured while you were gone. But now, it was like the past was repeating itself, a horrid nightmare that haunted Rafe like a bitter old friend.

Rafe did the only things he knew to do to cope with your disappearance—coke and parties. Like retracing the steps on a well-worn path, every turn feeling like deja vu with every line he inhaled. Sure it didn't make him forget about you, but it sure did make the pain more manageable.

"Damn Rafe, I haven't seen you rage this hard since your dad tried kicking you out last year," Topper's drab tone rang through Rafe's ears, although fortunately for him, his friend was far too high to pay it any mind.

Rafe responded with a half-hearted chuckle while he carelessly bent back down to the table to inhale one last line of the white powdered substance before him. He breathed it in with an ease only a seasoned addict could do, a shameful talent he acquired in an attempt to mend his affliction.

"Yeah, well," Rage shrugged, wiping his nose of residue, "he's good at bringing that side out of me."

Topper's brows furrowed at the remark, feeling as if it was a subtle hint at what Rafe was going through. It would only make sense if Ward had been the reason his son was becoming a full blown addict again, since Rafe held his father's words to a much higher degree than anyone else's.

"Hey, why don't we lay off for a bit and get some drinks?" The blond added, a pang of worry coursing through him at Rafe's flushed and disoriented complexion, his pupils dilated to the max.

With droopy eyelids and a gaunt look on his face, Rafe's hazy gaze met Topper's with a faint smirk present across his lips, "Yeah, I could use another drink." He slurred while he gave his friend an inept pat on the shoulder before wandering off to the bar.

As he strode through the crowd of people, Rafe's usual posh appearance was replaced with disarray. His hair had fallen into uneven tufts, his face pallid and streaked with sweat. His azure colored eyes were glossy and unfocused, darting around the room with an unsettling lack of coordination. His typical arrogant, assertive demeanor stripped away by a slack-jawed, dazed expression. If it weren't for the fact that he was surrounded by a hundred other intoxicated people, perhaps someone would've been concerned by the way he looked.

The more steps he took, the more he could feel himself go in and out of consciousness. The loud, thumping music and flashing lights only heightened the symptoms of his high as he reached a euphoric state. The world around him was hazy and blurred but he felt a blissful peace as his once-racing thoughts suddenly went silent. It was the first time in days Rafe had felt anything besides grief and anger. Between you and his father, he felt like a burden under the scrutiny he faced by the ones who knew him best, and figured, maybe you two were right; maybe he was the problem.

Before he could reach the bar, Rafe felt a finger tap him on the shoulder, urging him to turn around. He sluggishly turned to face whoever it was, only to be met with disappointment at the sight of a familiar brunette standing before him.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" Sofia looked in horror at the sight of Rafe's sickly complexion.

He rolled his eyes, annoyed by her comment, "What do you want, Sofia?" Rafe grumbled through his slurred speech.

"I.. came to say hi cause I thought I saw you across the room. Didn't expect to see you here," she replied hesitantly while she continued to observe his bloodshot eyes.

He scoffed at Sofia's remark, his voice dripping with a mix of anger and derision. “Haven’t you done enough?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “It’s bold of you to even come up and talk to me right now.”

Sofia’s eyes widened at the venom in his tone, her brow furrowing with a blend of hurt and frustration. “Look, Rafe, I know what I did and I’m sorry but—”

“No,” Rafe cut her off sharply, his voice like a jagged edge. “A bullshit ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to fix what you did. And besides, you should be apologizing to Y/N, not me.”

Her face fell, the weight of his words hitting her like a cold splash of water. “I know,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I made a mistake and I let my emotions get the best of me, Rafe. I was just so angry seeing you with her that I lost it.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, a harsh scoff escaping his lips. “I don’t give a fuck how you felt. You had no right shoving her into the pool like that. What if something worse happened to her? Then what? Your apology means nothing to me.”

Sofia's eyes filled with tears, her lower lip quivering as she struggled to hold back her emotions. “I didn’t think... I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was so caught up in my own pain and jealousy that I didn’t see how wrong I was.”

Rafe’s face remained a storm of anger and disappointment. “It’s not just about you and me anymore. It’s about her, and the fact that you let your anger turn into something so cruel.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the depth of his frustration and helplessness.

Sofia’s shoulders slumped, her voice barely a whisper now. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I just… I can’t stand seeing you with her after all we went through together. You promised me forever.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, muffling the chaotic noise of the bar around them. Rafe's face softened slightly, a mix of weariness and regret settling over his features. He looked at her, seeing the remnants of a pain he once knew intimately, but now felt so distant.

“Forever?” Rafe echoed, his voice rough with a blend of bitterness and exhaustion. “That was a long time ago, Sofia. Things change. People change.”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the weight of the situation pulling him down. “What we had is over. I’m with her now, and you forcing yourself into this situation only makes things worse. I need to focus on fixing what’s broken.”

Sofia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head slowly. “I know it’s over. I just didn’t want to be forgotten like this, to be left behind so easily.”

Rafe's expression hardened again, a wall of frustration rising between them. “It’s not about forgetting you,” he said, his tone sharp but tinged with a hint of sorrow. “It’s about moving forward. I’m trying to make things right for her, for us. But right now, all I see is a mess that needs fixing. And you’re only adding to it.”

Sofia's plea cut through the din of the bar, her voice cracking with desperation. “Please, Rafe, I only want what’s best for you. Please don’t shut me out like this.”

Rafe hesitated, his hand gripping the edge of the bar as he struggled with his own conflicted emotions. He turned back to face her, his eyes weary and clouded by the weight of everything that had transpired.

“Best for me?” he repeated, his voice hollow. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Sofia. You had your chance, and you made your choices."

Sofia's face hardened, a steely determination replacing the remorse in her eyes. "Then I’m sorry for what’s going to happen, Rafe. I truly am."

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his inebriated mind struggling to grasp the gravity of her words. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, a chill creeping into his voice as he sensed the shift in her demeanor.

Sofia’s expression grew somber, her tone taking on a more serious, almost threatening edge. "I was going to tell you that your dad came to me and offered me a proposition. If I did something for him, he’d pay me a large sum. At first, I wanted to reject his offer, come to you, and do the right thing. But seeing how you reacted tonight... I really need the money, Rafe. I’m sorry."

The words hit Rafe like a sledgehammer. His heart pounded violently in his chest, the alcohol-induced fog momentarily lifting as fear and anger surged through him. “What did he ask you to do?” he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent.

Sofia’s gaze dropped to the floor, guilt and fear mingling in her eyes. “I can’t say,” she whispered. “But it’s something that could hurt you and... someone you care about. I didn’t want to, but I’m desperate, Rafe. I’m sorry.”

Rafe felt the room spin as his mind raced. The reality of Sofia’s admission was like a brutal awakening, the weight of his father’s manipulative schemes crashing down on him with full force. He took a step closer, his face inches from Sofia’s, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “No, Sofia. You aren’t going to touch her. I swear to God, if you do—”

The threat hung in the air, taut with menace, each word charged with a volatile mixture of fear and fury. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the intensity of his emotions almost palpable.

Sofia’s eyes widened, her fear evident as she recoiled slightly from the raw intensity in his gaze. “Rafe, I—I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m just... trapped. I didn’t know it would come to this.”

Sofia’s shoulders slumped under the weight of her decision, her eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the gravity of her choices. “Sof, don’t do this,” Rafe pleaded, his voice raw and desperate. “You don’t have to do what he says. No amount of money is worth this.”

Her head shook slowly, each movement punctuating the anguish on her face. “I didn’t mean for it to come like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I already made the deal. So now it’s either my life or hers, and I have to look out for myself, Rafe.”

The words struck Rafe with the force of a physical blow, his heart clenching painfully at the realization of the desperate position Sofia had put herself in. The intensity of his feelings for you surged anew, a fierce protectiveness that burned in his chest. “You’re choosing your own safety over someone’s life,” he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You know what that makes you?”

Sofia’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, her tears tracing a path down her cheeks as she wrestled with her torment. “You have no idea what it’s like to live like a Pogue, Rafe,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “This is my only chance to have a second chance at a better life for myself. And if this is what it takes, then… so be it.”

Her words cut through Rafe like a knife, the raw pain and desperation in her voice mingling with the weight of her choices. He could see the conflict etched into her features, the inner struggle between her dire circumstances and the moral cost of her actions. It was a choice born out of desperation, not cruelty, and the complexity of her situation only deepened his own anguish.

Rafe took a step closer, his voice soft but resolute. “I get that you’re in a tough spot, but you don’t have to sacrifice your own humanity to escape it. There’s always another way, Sofia. We just have to find it.”

Sofia shook her head, her eyes still lowered, as if the weight of her decision was too heavy to bear. “I wish I could believe that,” she murmured. “But right now, this is all I see. I’m sorry, Rafe. I never wanted it to come to this.”

Rafe’s voice trembled with desperation as he reached out to Sofia, his eyes pleading. “Sofia, I can’t let you do this. Just tell me where she is, please. I’ll do anything.”

Sofia’s shoulders sagged further under the weight of his plea. She looked at him with a mixture of anguish and resignation, the fight in her fading as the reality of his desperation sank in. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her resolve crumbling in the face of his earnestness.

“I… I can’t,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “It’s not that simple, Rafe. I’m bound by the deal, and if I break it, there’s no telling what might happen to me—or to you.”

Sofia’s eyes were heavy with the burden of her choices, her face etched with torment as she looked at Rafe. She could see the raw desperation in his eyes, the plea for her to help you cutting through the veil of her own fears and guilt.

“Rafe,” she began, her voice trembling, “I know you’re begging me, and I wish I could give you what you want. But I can’t jeopardize my life like this. You don’t understand—”

Before she could finish, Rafe cut her off, his voice strained with emotion. “I don’t care about your life right now, Sofia. I care about hers. You know what you’re doing is wrong. There has to be another way.”

Sofia’s gaze softened momentarily, tears brimming in her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to keep her composure. “I can’t tell you, Rafe. I’m sorry. I... I have to go.” She turned away, her footsteps echoing with the weight of her decision, leaving Rafe with a suffocating sense of dread and urgency.

As she walked away, Rafe stood rooted to the spot, the last remnants of his resolve dissolving into an all-consuming fear. The finality in Sofia’s voice was a harsh reminder of the time slipping away, the enormity of his task pressing down on him like a relentless storm.

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[goldeunoias]

Decisions.

A/N: I like writing for Jay stans the most because they give me the most reblogs and comments instead of just only leaving likes (which doesn't really do much darlings) soooo here's a Jay fic for you amazing guys &lt;;33333333

Summary: Yandere! JayX Female Reader (it shows bit by bit the more it goes on)

word count: 3,1k i think idk

Warnings: this literally has my favorites, horse cock Jay, teasing dom Jay, like multiple orgasms, just like....horknee thoughts bc it's me....upon proofreading there is like...anal fingering look I'm....a whore okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 years ago~

Jongseong sniffled as he sat down with his lunch, once again eating alone. Had he known the kids here would be so mean he would've begged his parents to let him stay back where he was from with his grandmother, but to no avail.

"Hello! I like your glasses! They make you look smart. Are you?" the girl who stood in front of him curiously asked. She was the first person who had even bothered to stare in his direction, let alone talk to him.

"U-Uh I don't know. Maybe?" he cautiously replied, waiting for a cruel punchline to follow.

Instead, she giggled, sitting with her lunch in front of him.

"You're cute," she laughed, opening her lunch.

Jongseong looked down shyly, feeling his ears turn into shades of peonies.

From that point on he'd always thought you cuter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the club, wondering what the hell you were thinking.

You'd never been in a proper relationship.

Never been on a proper date.

And yet here you were, outside a BDSM club with an appointment that you'd made.

"Well, I'm sure women have made dumber decisions," you muttered to yourself, shaking out your sweaty palms and walking inside. The establishment looked excellent and pristine, which was expected since it was your city's nicest and safest S&M club. So at the bare minimum, your impulsive decision was backed by somewhat sound logic.

When you went up to the counter you found a petite lady wearing a mask, though you saw the corners of her eyes turn up as you approached.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" she said in a soft voice. You nodded and told her your name and appointment time, thankful the receptionist seemed professional and not judgemental like your anxiety had expected.

"You're gonna be in room 305, with Jongseong Park as confirmed in our phone call. We recommend that you shower for hygiene, and there are bathrooms located in each of the rooms. If there are any accommodations missing such as towels, soap, or anything else feel free to use the phone to call and a staff member will bring items as needed. If you feel scared or unsafe at any time there are red buttons in our rooms which can be pressed and staff members will rush to aid you. Our doms go through different training and extensive background checks so rest assured you are in safe hands," she informed you gently, giving you a brief description of how to find your room.

You gave her a sincere "thank you" and walked off to find your room, finding it easy enough thanks to her directions. As expected, when you opened the room no one was there since you were informed on the phone that your master doesn't show up until you've pressed one on the phone, to make sure you have ample time to prep if needed.

From appearance, it looked like a normal hotel room, though upon further inspection you found many BDSM items in the drawers and cabinets. You wrote on your profile and informed me on the phone that you needed someone who would ease you very gently into all of this. You took a shower and got into the bathrobe that was complimentary, still keeping your underwear as you were too nervous to go completely naked just yet.

Taking a deep breath you went over to the phone and pressed one, sitting on the bed and twiddling your thumbs until his arrival. There were three knocks on the door before it slowly opened, the man keeping his head down as he stood at the threshold.

He asked you for your name and you told him, Jongseong raising his head once he had confirmation it was you. His voice was deep and warm, causing goosebumps to rise on your freshly washed skin as he slowly walked over to you.

He knelt down at the foot of the bed where you sat, grabbing your hands and massaging them gently.

"Mm, you're even prettier than the photos they gave me kitten. Is it okay if I call you that?" he inquired sweetly, the gentle command he held in his tone making your spine tingle.

"T-that's okay," you stuttered out, the cotton bathrobe feeling 10x hotter now. "Do you have a preference on what you like to be called?"

You watched as Jongseong cocked his head to the side in playful thought, the shadow of his jawline becoming more prominent as he did so.

"Why don't you call me 'sir'. Or you can call me my name if 'sir' feels too intimidating," he added on, squeezing your hands when he felt your erratic heartbeat through your wrists.

"That works," you rushed out, feeling stupid in his presence. "Sorry you probably have way more experienced clients and better ones than dealing with someone like me," you apologized.

Jongseong shook his head and pulled your hands so you were even closer to him, his lips only centimeters away from yours as he spoke.

"Never feel bad for lack of experience kitten. That's what you're here for isn't it?"

You nodded.

"Exactly. And I'm here to make you feel good. Can I kiss you?" he asked gently, smiling slightly when you nodded. His lips were soft in a way that made your toes curl, your hands clenching the material of your bathrobe as you didn't know what else to do with them.

Jongseong sensing your slight discomfort moved your hands around his neck, gently moving you so you were on your back and he was on top of you.

"When was the last time you were kissed kitten?"

You tensed up at the question and told him through bashful stares that it was freshmen year of college, and you weren't even sure that that counted.

"Sorry, can you tell I'm not the greatest," you muttered out, biting down on your lips in nerves. Jongseong avidly shook his head and pressed his thumb against your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it, cooing at you gently.

"You're just tense is all, holding back. If you came to a place like this that means you have at least some curiosity in kinky sex no?" He teased, holding your chin when you tried to look away from him.

You gulped and nodded.

"Words for me kitten, I gotta have your verbal confirmation on things no?"

"I do." you meekly replied. "I just thought well, um...I'd get more satisfaction if I went to a place like this," you explained to him, your body melting when Jongseong started leaving open-mouth kisses on your neck.

"Mmhmm, tell me more," he urged on, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head.

"I've only had minor sexual experiences in high school and had "real" sex early in college and they weren't good so I gave up on relationships and sex since I didn't-" A moan left your throat as Jongseong's tongue swirled around your pulse.

"Continue kitten," he teased, noticing how you started melting into his touches versus tensing up at them.

"...I d-didn't get good experiences. But I recently got curious and so here I am," you finished. Jongseong came up to your face with a smile that held sinister intent, leaning in close to you.

"Don't worry kitten, I'll make you feel good..." he trailed off, biting your ear gently. "So good that you'll come back to me every time..."

Before you could answer his lips pressed back against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. His mouth felt hot and the texture of his tongue against yours made you whimper, feeling droplets of his saliva trickle into your mouth.

When he pulled back you instinctively reached for him and Jongseong couldn't help but smile internally as he let you pull him back in, letting you set the rhythm you wanted.

Your skin was so soft against his callused hands, better than he'd imagined as he slid his fingers underneath your robe and undid it. Before you could cover yourself he pinned your hands to your sides and took an erect nipple into his mouth, letting you feel the texture of his tongue as it swirled around delicately.

You bit down on your tongue to keep what you thought were embarrassing noises in your throat, Jongseong huffing and coming up to stare at you.

"Why aren't you moaning kitten? Are not feeling good?" he inquired sweetly, circling his warm finger around your saliva-laden nipple. You were caught off guard by it and let out a yelp, rushing to cover your mouth before lowering it.

"It's um, not that...I just won't sound like those girls in hentai or porn and I don't know what I am supposed to sound like...is all," you finished weirdly, following Jongseong's movements as he went to the other pert nipple, delicately flicking it with his tongue.

Your breath hitched and Jay chuckled, his finger tugging at the bud.

"Oh but a kitten, I want to hear you," he drawled slowly, coming up so he was speaking teasingly against your lips. "I want you to have lost your voice by the time I'm done with you. For you to even be heard through the hotel walls," he pushed on.

You gulped at how sultry his voice sounded, your body burning as his calloused hand came in between your thighs. You scrunched your face up and let out a moan at the contact, wondering if he could feel the slick that covered your underwear.

"Thatta girl, show sir how good you're feeling," he praised gently, kissing your jawline.

"Can you...," you stopped yourself at your own nerves.

Jongseong stopped and perked up, his carob eyes making you feel extra shy. "No no what is it, tell me kitten."

You swallowed thickly. "I've never really, well never actually had a guy eat me out andIwantedtoknowhowitfeltlike," you managed out, unable to make eye contact with him. You didn't need to because he was already inching down your body and tugging down your underwear before you could even say anything.

His grip was strong on your calves as he firmly held your legs open, Jonseong's breath getting heavier as he saw your arousal-coated core.

"You wrote in your profile that you don't like it when it's shaved so I didn't," you muttered gently, feeling embarrassed from how intently he was staring.

"Shit kitten~ your pussy's so goddamn pretty, I mean you're dripping onto the sheets already," Jongseong groaned, the tone of his voice causing you to clench around nothing.

You didn't even realize a guy could get so turned on by you, let alone from a region that you found rather embarrassing.

"D-don't just stare at it," you whined, your chest rising as he dragged a digit down the center, gathering up syrupy beads of arousal.

"Of course not kitten...," he trailed off, flattening his tongue against your core and you let out a moan. You didn't realize how textured someone's tongue could be and how warm and wet it was until was circling around your swollen clit, your head lolling off to the side as you gripped his hair.

Jongseong could hardly contain his excitement as sweet honey coated his tongue, spelling out his name with his tongue against your folds.

"You seem to like the letter "o" of my name don't you kitten," he cooed as he slid a single digit in. He raised his brows at the amount of resistance that was met and your reaction, your hands gripping the pillow tighter.

"Do you not finger yourself at all sweetheart?" he inquired as he left open-mouthed kisses on your aching core, curling it in an area that you'd never reached. You shook your head and felt your stomach contract at the feeling, feeling your head get lighter at the sensation.

"It never felt good when I did it and then when a guy did it it just hurt a lot," you whimpered out, your voice breaking at the end as he slid a second digit in.

You never knew that having your core stretched out could feel so good, the squelching noises coming from you making your face burn in bashfulness.

Jongseong on the other hand was reveling in it all, doing his best to not push you to your very limits: he wanted to make you cry and blubber out his name, paint your walls white with his cum, and other sinful things.

Your whimper of "jongseong" snapped him out of his thoughts, the innocent and expectant eyes you gave him almost making him cum right then and there.

"S-sorry I didn't mean to call your name when you said sir but you were lost in thought," you answered, flinching slightly when Jongseong came up face to face with you, shoving his fingers in knuckle deep.

"Shit, I knew there was a reason you shouldn't have said my name," he panted out, pressing on the spongy spot on your walls at every chance he could.

"Why is t-that," you yelped out, legs closing around his hand as you felt a tight knot form in your lower belly. You also felt something else building up as he alternated between pressing down on your clit and scissoring your core, your hands meekly attempting to push his wrist away.

"Because if you say my name I won't be able to hold back," he groaned, his breath hitching as you moaned his name out again.

"I think something weird is going to come out, waitwaitwait," you croaked, your nails leaving claw marks down his tan skin.

"Shhh it's okay kitten just let it out, I got you I got you," he pushed softly in your ear.

Your legs tried to clamp around his hand to stop his movements but his reactions were quicker, situating himself so you could only close your legs around his waist.

"Don't be scared sweetheart, make me proud yeah? It'll feel really good, promise," he cooed at you as he put more force behind his movements, wanting you to unravel from the seams.

Your eyes fluttered for a second as the knot snapped. You were still pushing his hand away as liquid gushed from between your legs, tears forming in your eyes as you felt a pleasure so intense it felt like your body would give out right then and there.

"I-I got your robe wet," you said through panted breaths, trying to say anything to divert the attention away from the liquid that soaked your form and partially his.

Jongseong smiled to himself at the attempt, undoing with with ease and tossing it somewhere in the room. You couldn't help but stare at the erection that was practically forcing its way of his briefs, Jongseong lowering the waistband so you could see him fully.

There was a trail of hair that led from his lower abdomen to his erection, your eyes glued to the area like you were in a trance.

"You can touch it kitten, it doesn't bite," Jongseong purred, gently sitting you up so you could reach him with ease. You wrapped your hand around his length and were surprised at the warmth and weight you felt against your hand.

You gave it a gentle squeeze to see how he'd react and were surprised to hear him hissing through his teeth, his abdomen clenching at your timid movements.

"Why don't you get it nice and wet so it can go in easy yeah?" Jongseong cooed, his dick already twitching at the thought of pushing past your gummy walls.

You gathered up courage and wrapped your mouth around him, hollowing out your cheeks and relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. Maybe it was because his intoxicating smell but you were salivating to the point of having droplets trickle down your chin as you got greedy to take more of him.

"Easy there kitten, don't force all in at once," he cooed through a hissed breath, head swimming at how hot your mouth was. You nodded and pulled off of him to circle your tongue around his tip like a popsicle, a sheen glossing his member as you coated it with your saliva.

"That's a good girl~ making me so proud. See how deep you can take me hm?" You nodded and took a deep breath before slowly relaxing your throat around him, the intense groans and pants leaving him giving you more courage.

You weren't able to get down to the base but you were pretty damn close, Jongseong pulling you off of him before he came down your throat.

The cool demeanor Jongseong had started with was gone: his cheeks were rose and there was a sheen of sweat across his body, a ragged "get on your stomach" leaving him as he stroked his member with your saliva.

You did as you were told and gripped the pillows anxiously, Jongseong chuckling and bending over you.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit," he taunted against your ear, raising you up by your hips. He grabbed a condom and ripped it with his teeth before pulling down on himself, stroking his base languidly.

You felt the air get knocked out of you as he forced his mushroom head past your walls, your legs kicking from underneath him as you felt the push.

"Jongseong it's not gonna fit, it's not," you pleaded with him, fat tears rolling down your sweaty cheeks. It was a mistake to show him your crying face because it only egged him on more, a saccharine-sweet smile coming onto his lips.

"A good pussy takes any cock that it's given, kitten. Don't you wanna be my good girl?" he emphasized, forcing in another couple of inches. You nodded through your tears, shaking when Jongseong grabbed your hand and pressed it against your lower belly.

"Look kitten, you can feel where I'm going inside you. Do you think I'll be able to touch your cervix?" he almost taunted you, a muffled moan leaving you as he bottomed out.

"I-I don't know" you whelped out, feeling your inner thighs get sticky as cock his pushed out more droplets of syrupy essence.

Every breath you took caused your stomach to press against his member, Jongseong enveloping his large hands in yours on either side as he started moving. You couldn't even moan as you felt your head get lighter, only able to process how his member was stretching you so much.

Jongseong swore as you clamped down on him like a vice, pulling back some so he could see you leak around his cock. "Oh sweetheart, wouldn't you look stunning like this in Polaroids," he mused, his cock twitching inside of you at the thought of having black and white photos of your cum leaking out of your core and bite marks littering your soft skin.

He chuckled when your walls fluttered around him for a moment at the thought, burying your head in the pillow in shame.

"Oh? Seems princess would be into it?"

You hesitantly nodded.

Jongseong pulled your chin from your pillow and turned you around so you could see his darkening eyes, that same saccharine smile coming onto his lips.

"Next time yeah?"

"Next time....?" you repeated, gripping the headboard when Jongseong snapped his hips into you, trying to ease yourself away from the full feeling.

Jongseong only chuckled at your pathetic attempt to flee from his length, pushing your hips back against his as punishment for even attempting to get away.

He smiled, watching as your other hole twitched before letting a trickle of saliva from his mouth seep into the area. "Of course kitten next time. What, did you think you were gonna leave me?" He cooed, rubbing the area before sliding his middle finger in. Your legs spasmed underneath his at the intrusion, burying your mouth into the pillow as you groaned heavily.

"No, but don't you have other clients?" you inquired as he curled his finger and moved his member at the same time, your hands reaching back to meekly push his waist away.

He pouted and kissed your ear gently before using his weight to pin your body down, his hips starting to pick up faster.

"Not anymore."

**********************************

Jongseong walked outside the hotel room, giving the guy who waited outside the wad of cash as promised.

"Can't believe you looked everywhere just for one girl," He said in amusement, flicking his head to the room where you slept. "Think she'll find out you don't work here?"

Jongseong smiled and leaned against the wall. "Doubtful. And we're gonna keep it that way," he warned, putting on a soft smile as he walked back into the hotel room. He leaned over your restful form and kissed your cheek, his hands rubbing over the beautiful marks he'd left.

You rustled in your sleep but still lay there, Jongseong playing with the hem of the t-shirt he let you wear.

"You're all mine now kitten, all mine."

**********************************

feedback leads to me writing more for certain members so remember that and leave a comment, reblog, or anon!

there shan't be a part two <3 tho.

[zirconika]

I would love if you could write a fluffy negan x fem!reader one shot, there is genuinely not enough!!! I can’t think of any prompts tho I’m sorry 😭 but if you’re not able to write it then it’s all good🫶🏻

déjà vu

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Fem!Grimes!Reader WORDS: 3.6k SUMMARY: Being in charge of guarding Negan’s cell has given you plenty of opportunities to spend time with him against your will, but you unexpectedly end up bonding with him. Which is why nothing could have prepared you for finding out that you’ve met before and how. (Reader is Rick’s sister) WARNINGS: fluff, blood … idk what to say just read it!!!  SETTING: post-negan alexandria A/N: oh my god nonnie u r absolutely correct i just checked there’s a concerning shortage in negan fluff so ask and you shall receive!!! ps im nawt sure what u had in mind so i hope this works 

You hated Negan. End of story.

“Why do I have to be the one to do all this?” you’d complain to yourself every time you were handed the food you’d have to deliver to his cell. But you knew why. Your grief and your injury made you a liability than an asset out in the field, thus you found yourself assigned to something worse than desk duty—Negan duty.

The day your brother presumably died, you were so close to reaching him. Just a couple more steps ahead of you and you could have saved him…

But upon the explosion of the bridge had you skidding away, having you hit your head down on the harsh surface of the ground, blood spilling from under the back of your head as well as your broken leg… It had gotten blurry, but it happened nonetheless.

You were bedridden for a week, and you hated it—being left all alone to bear the weight of your grief. The communities were in shambles, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to lead just like your brother did.

When you got better, the ‘council’ refused to let you out, assigning you instead to managing the damned prisoner you had never once bothered to visit for any reason ever since he got locked up.

Now, there you were everyday, feeding the sick bastard canned tuna for breakfast. 

“Where’s the other guy?” he had asked you on the first day you stopped by. Without a word, you gave him his plate, only to sit down across from him, your arms crossed. 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just doing my job.”

“Goddamn,” he said, that grin of his spirited as ever. Fuck this guy. You started to think of ways you could poison his meals without anyone knowing. “They gave you the fun work from home job? Not cool!”

The first time you met Negan was when he came by Alexandria. You weren’t there when the line-up happened, but it changed Rick. You’d never seen your brother so lost, disconnected from himself and everyone.

He didn’t eat the first meal you brought him, or the second, not even the third.

For a while, it was just like that—you glaring at him while he talked all about… Well, Negan talked about everything. He never seemed to shut up. At least when you were around. When you got better, you began going out again to go on supply runs and when you returned to fulfill your tasks of distributing his food, you also began to notice the change in him.

“Took you long enough,” he said. This time, he really took the time to dig in. “How was the outside? Fun?”

“It was alright,” you said. You’d been against holding a conversation with him, having carried the anger you thought your brother deserved to harness against him. But you’d been feeling so alone the entire time, you decided talking wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “Found a box of canned goods, so that’s that. Good thing I don’t have any assholes taking half of whatever I got.”

“Ha ha,” Negan deadpanned as he continued eating. “I was worried you’d never show up. Been meaning to finally talk to someone.”

“What, you don’t blabber your ass off to any of the guys who’ve visited you?”

“Hell no,” he responded, looking at you as if what you just suggested was the worst thing in the world. 

Racking your mind on why on Earth would this dipshit find you entertaining to talk to despite you not holding any form of conversation throughout your entire time together last time, you decided there was only one possible reason. “You think I’m easy to crack.”

“No, are you crazy?” He looked up at you with a grin on his face as he ate his meal from his seat. “You just seem like the listener type. A lot of you Grimes do.”

You wanted to ask what he meant by that, but you kept your mouth shut. You let him talk his ass off until he finished his food before you wordlessly took his plate. 

As you were about to leave the room, he called out to you. “This gonna be a regular thing?”

“I hope not,” you said as you stepped out and closed the door behind you, with no intention of making this your daily routine. 

Except it eventually did. You don’t know how it happened, but it just did, and you let it. At one point, you started bringing him the food you cooked for yourself, asking him if it was good.

“Are you kidding me?” Negan said in between chews of the spaghetti you made. “I’d go as damn far as saying you might’ve beaten me in my own game.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, parallel to what he’d replied to you on the first day of your routine. “You’re just trying to get me to open your gate for you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s the thing that just tickles ma balls.”

“Fucker,” you laughed.

You brought him all sorts of dishes you tried to cook. You would’ve asked Carol for help, but years after Rick’s death, everyone maintained a sort of distance from each other. It didn’t help that the Kingdom was hours away, and if you brought any of the food you made, it would’ve been rotten by the time you got there thanks to the heat.

It surprised you how easy it was to talk to him. Some days, you’d forget he was even a prisoner, but more of your friend. Then you’d remember everything he’s done and you’d become distant at times. Negan never commented on it, but he noticed it.

Michonne wanted to ask about why you were making food suitable for two people, but even she felt the gap between the two of you. You loved Michonne, but there was definitely a rift there somewhere.

The only time you’d hang out was when you were at the dinner table with her and the kids, and even then the two of you would only talk about whatever it was the kids wanted to talk about.

You were more close to Judith. For one, she was also fun to talk to. 

You and Negan had that preference in common—talking to Judith Grimes.

It was thanks to Judith you found out about something. After reading to her in bed, you noticed she seemed to still be wide awake. “What, you’re not sleepy yet?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you,” she said, seemingly scared of something. You wondered if Negan had threatened her, that maybe his kindness towards you was in preparation for something sinister.

“Tell me what?”

Judith beckoned you to come closer. You oblige. To your surprise, your niece leaned into your ear to whisper, “Someone has a crush on you!”

You had a feeling who she was referring to. “Who?”

Judith backed away, sinking into her blanket. “I can’t say!”

“Well, what did this someone say?”

“I can’t tell you! Goodnight, Auntie!” And then Judith covered her blanket over her head, guilty about what she’d said. Could it be?

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” you teased your niece. But you knew that once Judith’s made up her mind, that was it. You watched as the blanket shifted left and right out of Judith shaking her head. “Alright, then. Good night, baby.”

Alas, you weren’t able to have your questions answered when you found out about Negan escaping. 

You couldn’t find the words to describe how you were feeling, because it felt wrong to admit you even did feel anything. Maybe he was just using me so I wouldn’t notice his plans to escape… Did he always have plans to escape? Did he get out because of me?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When he returned, he looked forward to seeing you again. While waiting, he fidgeted with his fingers. Negan Smith was a man of boastful performances; he always knew how to exude confidence in any situation. Coming back into his cell, he was so sure he’d have a fun time slipping back to your old routine together.

His heart almost leapt out of his throat when the door opened for the second time. The first time, he thought it was you, but he just got a whole lecture about everything. 

It bored him to death. He’d returned. There was nothing for him out there, and even if there was… It didn’t matter anymore.

You had to ignore the familiarity in what he called you…

“Hey, gorgeous. Missed me?” He excitedly watched as you came in, his friendly grin faltering when he realized you came in with the food he was originally given during his first few years of imprisonment.

Canned tuna.

“What, no new meal you want me to test today?” he asked, albeit nervously. To Negan’s dismay, his confidence was wavering. “Hellooo?”

Instead of sitting or standing right next to his cell, you sat at the spot you’d taken on the first day. You crossed your arms. 

“Oh, you’re pissed.”

You stared at him coldly. It bothered him, really. He’d gotten so used to seeing you with a warm, friendly smile on your face. He thought he’d have the luxury of seeing it again as soon as he returned.

Instead, he was met by your cold script, “Finish your meal.”

Negan began to strategize, thinking of how he wanted his play to be. In an attempt to reclaim his confidence, he decided to play the stubborn card, saying, “Nope.”

But you weren’t in the mood to play. “Alright, then don’t eat.”

“Fine,” he challenged.

But you weren’t the kind to back down either. “Fine.”

You were curious to know the story behind that subtle flash of recognition in his face that disappeared as soon as it came. It piqued your interest, as you recall having this conversation a long time ago… 

Deja vu, you thought to yourself.

To your surprise, Negan shook his head. “Jeez, just got goosebumps. Got deja vu there for a minute, it’s insane.”

Though you were intent on maintaining distance from the prisoner, you couldn’t help but ask. It surely was easy to talk to the guy, you had to give him that. “You felt that, too?”

“Felt what?”

“Deja vu,” you clarified. Negan watched as you stood up to approach his cell. “Like it happened before.”

“Is it just me, or are we literally doing some batshit telepathy right now?” Negan jokes. “Makes me think it’s a soulmate thing.”

“It’s not a soulmate thing.” You wrap your fingers around a bar of his cell, contemplating where you might have had that conversation. The first time you met Negan, you felt as if his voice was familiar. 

You searched the deepest crevices of your mind, trying to recall a time in your life when you might have possibly met the prisoner. One look at him and you knew he was doing the same.

Nothing came to mind. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Except for one. Holy shit. He wasn’t sure, but a part of him felt like it was yanking something out from a library in his mind.

He set it aside for now. He wanted to talk to you first, properly. “[Y/N], this is gonna be a strange request but… Could you come in?”

“What?” you ask, snapping out from your focus. “Why would I do that?”

“Just get in the damn cell.”

“How do I know you won’t trick me just so you could slip out?”

His face screwed up into a frown. “Because I’m not even gonna try. I came back; I chose to. Because of you.”

“What?” you ask again, lost more than ever. It felt wrong that you were expecting something. This was Negan.

The same Negan who…

You shook your head. And you don’t know what force of nature propelled you to be stupid, but you oblige with his request. You sat down next to him on his cot in his cell.

Your backs were to the wall. It felt comfortable somehow. You eyed the stack of books he’d sped through reading whenever he was alone.

Negan set the plate of canned tuna aside, putting his hands on his lap. “You know why I came back?”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

The prisoner laughed, and an unsaid guilt clawed at you from the back of your mind, saying whatever this was… It was wrong. But with Negan, you never felt like you were alone. Which is why it sucked when he left.

“No, stupid. Because there was nothing for me out there.”

“What makes you think there’s something for you here?”

He looked at you this time, his eyes free of the malice you were used to seeing constantly present. “You.”

You had to scoff. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He thought back to all the times you’d sat right next to him with bars separating the two of you. How he’d never felt so welcomed except for in your presence. 

How he waited for you to visit him. How he was constantly excited for the next time you’d come. How he’d get frustrated whenever it was someone else who’d open the door.

“Thought I was done for,” he confessed. “Until you came and I… I told myself I’d make amends with you out of respect for your brother and your nephew, bless their souls. Then you started visiting me by routine. I knew it was your job, but I never felt like I was behind bars whenever I was with you.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“It means I like you, if you didn’t get that.” He nudged your elbow, looking at you as if he were already expecting you to turn him down. “I just wanted to tell you so you’d understand.”

“I like you, too,” you blurted out.

This time, Negan was the one who couldn’t seem to find the right words to say, much less at least even any words at all. 

“Rick dying like that… It changed me. Changed everyone, really. Nothing was ever the same and I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt alone, and I’m grateful you were there when I grieved. It just… Feels wrong to feel this way about you.”

Negan nodded. “I get it.”

You felt his hand on top of yours, rubbing it. He didn’t even realize he’d done it, but he left your hand alone when he noticed he did. You wish he didn’t. 

But you had to be brave. Shamelessly, you grabbed his hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his. Negan let you. “You suck at this game, asshole.”

And the two of you froze. He knew where he knew you from, and so did you.

“Ho-ly shit,” Negan started. “Are you GorgeousArsenal777?”

It all made sense now. Holy shit, indeed. “You’re SaviorNutsack69?”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Way before the apocalypse, Negan had made it his personal mission to destroy every single child XBOX Games. First was Gears of War. 

But he decided he wanted more than just a game with a co-op campaign mode. He needed to obliterate opponents in a ranked multiplayer combat game. It wasn’t that he hated them, he just needed a win…

He found a guaranteed win when he matched with MrPuddingCyborg. It was an easy win, really. It was very clear that whoever was behind that avatar was a newbie, thus it was easy for Negan to rank up.

“Fuckin’ loser,” he said, turning on his mic. “I bet you picked that username ‘cause you thought it was cool, didn’t you! It isn’t!” 

“Your technique sucks!” a little boy on the other end said, furious.

“Pants pisser,” Negan said one last time before beginning the game. “Are you shittin’ your pants now? What’re you gonna do, tell your mom?”

The growling on the other end stopped, meaning the kid turned off his mic. Negan scoffed, sensing victory from miles away. “What a fucking crybaby.”

Looking for the same benefits of winning, he requested a rematch. MrPuddingCyborg accepted. Negan leaned back, knowing it was gonna be a cake walk when—

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

What?

Negan’s avatar respawned, but his tactic was used against him.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

It went on like that for a while until the two words he most dreaded to find on the screen flashed before him: GAME OVER.

Game over? No way. 

Negan ended their match, frustrated to find that his failure jeopardized his progress in getting up to a higher rank. 

Affected by his loss, Negan kept playing with two different players before finally getting to the third player.

Negan grinned to himself, gripping his controller with the drive to defeat everyone, but for now, GorgeousArsenal777 would be the one to get the heat.

To his delight, he got the first win. He exclaimed with a mischievous laugh. “Haha! One for Virginia!”

But that was just it.

Negan watched in horror as the player obliterated him in every round. He could already imagine his rank getting lower and lower…

He turned on his microphone. “The fuck’s that about? Are you trolling me right now?”

“Troll you for what? Coins you don’t have?,” taunted a girl on the other end as they waited for the intermission time to finish so they could leave the lobby and play another round. “Checked your account, saw you’ve been here for half a year and you’re still in a mid-tier rank. News flash, you suck at this game, asshole.”

“Game on, Gorgeous.”

“Suck my nutsack,” said the voice on the other end. Somewhere almost ten hours away south of Virginia, you clutched your nephew’s controller with a burning desire to destroy the gaming career of this fucker who pissed off your nephew. 

Negan watched in poorly disguised horror as the words notified him of his losses on the screen.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

“Listen here, Gorgeous,” he started. Whatever relaxation Negan had was gone. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, concentrating more than ever. “I am gonna make you regret that you ever got a console.”

You snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Negan was dead serious. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you fired back. And just in time, you sent a bomb his way, killing him for another time.

You killed SaviorNutsack69.

While you waited for the next round in the lobby, you and your nephew watched as SaviorNutsack69 approached your avatar. The two of you couldn’t help but snicker as he did.

His mic turned on again. “You’re a cheat.”

You resisted calling him a virgin seeing that he came from Virginia, acknowledging the presence of your eleven year old nephew sitting right behind you with his legs crossed, giggling.

“I could’ve beaten this guy,” Carl said with a laugh.

“I know, pumpkin.” You gave the kid a warm smile before turning back to the screen, eager to destroy this man further. “But guys like SaviorNutsack69 deserve to be obliterated.”

You turned your mic back on. “Not my fault you suck. Look at your avatar, dipshit.”

You and Carl snickered on your end, giggling.

The guy on the other end laughed mirthlessly. “I do not appreciate you talking ass about my Limited Edition skin.”

“Sorry you’re not more appreciative,” you quipped, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. “And sorry you can’t rock a leather jacket like I can.”

Negan hated leather jackets, thought it was too hot. He preferred those loose zip-up hoodies. But was not gonna tell GorgeousArsenal777 on the off chance that she uses it as substance to say he just couldn’t pull it off.

“I can so rock a leather jacket, shitface.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” And then he left the lobby before the game could start. You and your nephew burst out laughing at the thought of the dude getting a leather jacket.

He was nothing to the two of you three minutes later, because you let Carl play with his account after that. But SaviorNutsack69? He was not the type to back down from a fight even long after it had ended.

700 miles from Georgia, SaviorNutsack69 got up from his chair and drove to the mall. He ran into the edgiest store he could find with purpose and unapologetically purchased the coolest leather jacket he could find.

And the rest is history.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The two of you sat there in silence, the thought of having met before all of this…

It was refreshing—the prospect of destiny. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, it made you an ounce closer to him. 

He grinned. Negan thought back to the leather jacket he abandoned before returning. “Hey, you’re the genius behind my look.”

“Guess I am,” you mused.

Your shoulder brushed against his, and you could have sworn there was electricity there somewhere.

“Feels like a rocky start to a love story, huh?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“You think this is a love story?” you asked him nervously.

Negan thought about it for a second, grinning. “I don’t know, do you?”

“Well,” you started. You paused before standing up and leaving his cell. Before leaving, you looked back at him with a smile. “We’ll see.”

“See what?” Negan stood up, holding the bars of his cell only to realize that it wasn’t locked.

“If you’re as bad on garden duty as you are on Call of Duty,” you taunted him with the same spirit you had from all those years ago. “Maybe then I’ll consider if it’s a love story.”

And that was it. You liked Negan, but that was just the beginning of a whole new story. You just knew you were lucky enough to have gotten the chance to meet again.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009 @whatchareadingnow @remuslittlesister @romanoffmaximoff0096

[izzy2210]

All The Time In The World

for @evashuu you literally helped me so much with this it's only fair

~~~~

Hob was grading essays, papers sprawled all over his usual table at the New Inn. It’s a few weeks after his stranger came back, Dream, he knows now. Dream, who’s sitting across from him, his hands politely in his lap, watching him work. He likes this, coexisting with someone in the same space, it makes him finally start grading these stupid essays he has to finish in two days. A student of his called it ‘body doubling,’ something that often works for people with ADHD. He tries not to think about what that means for him too much.

The door opens, the bell ringing, and he looks up. Speak of the devil, the kid walks into the Inn, their hands in their pockets. They spot Hob, and he raises his hand to wave, when their eyes go wide, and they make a U-turn in the doorway and start to walk away again.

“Rowan!” Hob shouts, and a few grumpy women side-eye him. Bummer, he thinks, I own the place. Rowan turns around again. “You should sit with us!” Hob smiles, and the kid rolls their eyes, reluctantly walking towards the table where Hob and Dream are sitting. 

Dream turns slightly to look at them, and then his eyes widen, his jaw tenses. He spots their too-sharp teeth as they grimace, the jewellery in their too-pointy ears isn’t steel. “Hob..” he starts, but his friend is already busy scooting to the left in his booth, letting Rowan sit next to him. 

“Rowan, this is Dream, a.. friend. Dream, this is Rowan, one of my students. I was just grading papers, already did yours.” Dream stares at Hob, then at Rowan. “Do you want tea? I could make you some tea. Myra-” he turns to the woman behind the bar, “Could you make Rowan some tea? On the house, it’s fine.” Hob grimaces, and Rowan twirls one of their rings around their finger. 

Dream is still staring at them when Myra brings their tea, and Rowan looks at the floor, masking their fear with awkwardness. They can feel, sense that Dream is Other. It doesn’t comfort them. They got banished from the Faerie for a reason, and they aren't planning on going back. Maybe this creature is going to take them home.

Hob hands them their tea, and they take it, warming their hands, even though it’s not that cold outside. Hob talks, they think, but they aren’t listening, not really. They’re looking at the creature across from him, his jaw set tight, his eyes a piercing, unnatural blue. Hob doesn’t seem to notice the tension. 

“Hob, are you aware..” Dream starts again. “Mh?” “Are you aware your student is.. Other?” He says, carefully, he doesn’t want to shock Hob. 

Hob chuckles. “I know, Dream, that they’re queer. It’s something you can say, these days, you don’t need to come up with euphemisms.” Hob sips his own tea, and the little crease between Dream’s eyebrows deepens. That.. That is not at all what he meant, but he can’t let the Fae know he knows and that Hob doesn’t know- It’s all terribly confusing. Rowan chuckles nervously. 

The rest of the afternoon goes that way, Hob talking animatedly, Rowan deeply uncomfortable, and Dream trying to pierce two symmetrical holes in their skull with his eyes. 

Eventually, after some whiskey mixed in with his tea, Hob invites Dream over to stay, and Rowan excuses themselves. Hob will pay for his tea, he promises, and then Rowan hurries out of the Inn. 

“Hob..” “Do you.. Want to stay over? Perhaps?” He asks, and Dream tips his head to the side, like a curious bird. Hob has never offered that, but it sounds.. Good. Dream nods, and Hob slides out of his booth, showing Dream the way up the stairs, to his apartment above the Inn. Pushes the door open, drops onto the plush couch while Dream just stands there, delightfully out of place between the brown bookshelves and green rug, Hob’s own little treehouse. Hob stares, and Dream stares back. They’ve always been strange like that.

Hob may be tipsy, but he’s definitely not thinking about how Dream’s lips would feel against his. Nope. Also not about carding his fingers through Dream’s hair, looking down at him as he puts those lips somewhere else, certainly not about letting Dream push him down onto the mattress, kissing him senseless and stupid while Dream’s fingers pet his chest, and move down, down..

No. Definitely not.

Dream clears his throat, a strange sound. “You.. You can sit, if you want?” Hob offers, and stares even more as Dream seems to fold in on himself like a goth lawnchair, tucking his sharp elbows and sharp knees in and sits down on the couch, sinking into it a bit. 

“Ah, you’re sitting in the spot I used to sit in. The underside of it cracked, so it’ll probably feel a bit weird to sit there..” Hob knows he’s rambling, knows this is awkward, but he can’t do anything but let his mouth run, afraid that if he’ll stop talking thoughts will start to form in his head again, maybe even daydreams. He doesn’t know if Dream can sense those, but he isn’t keen on finding out right now, not with this mindset. 

“It is comfortable.” Dream simply says, and Hob just nods. “This place is lived in. Some humans would call it.. Cosy.” Dream slides his hand over the fabric, Hob chuckles, and stares. “Yeah. That.. That was the goal. I have my books, my desk where I grade papers students write..” He smiles again, definitely doesn’t wonder how Dream’s hand would feel in his, or somewhere else..

“About your students.. Rowan Sorbus, as they call themselves, they are-” “Yeah, they’re something, aren’t they? Lovely kid to have in class, not afraid to ask questions, or question the textbook.” Hob smiles. Maybe Rown and Dream could bond, they are both.. Not from around here, to say the least. 

“Yes, well..” Dream starts, and then sees how comfortable Hob is here, and stops. He.. He wants to see where this night is going, without the intrusion of telling Hob that his favourite student is Fae, and could potentially be dangerous. He doesn’t want to disturb his peace. And if he thinks about it, Rowan didn’t look all that threatening. Maybe he was wrong.

Hob talks, about difficult classes and incorrect textbooks, about old mad Hettie and new friends, and Dream listens, intently, scooting closer with every new story. Dream doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, but the stories are fuel for him, he can almost feel them. Hob tells them so well, he can almost smell the scent of new textbooks, old tea and a wooden desk as Hob tells him how difficult it is to grade papers on your own. He can feel the grains between his fingers as Hob tells him that he organised a company trip to the beach for the staff of the New Inn, and he can smell the sea as he tells him about that one time when he went fishing with a friend, catching an actual octopus. 

“The smell of the ink brought me back, oh lord. M’hands used to be covered with it when I was working at the printing presses, god!” Hob sits up. “That’s when I thought you were the devil!” He chuckles, and Dream smiles softly. “Mh, and now I’m friends with you. Fancy me being friends with the devil.” He grins over at Dream, who smiles more.

Those smiles were rare, in the early days, but in this century Hob earns them in abundance, as he jokes, mocks and tells his stories. He relishes in them, loves them dearly. He speaks more, about all kinds of things, and when he glances at the clock he sees it’s past midnight. 

“Hob, as much as I like your stories, it is late. You should retire to bed, I believe you have classes to teach early in the morning.” Hob hums, a little disappointed. “Yeah, I do.” Dream seems to tense up, suddenly, just a little, but Hob spots it. “Business calls in The Dreaming, my friend. Good night.” And then Dream is gone.

Hob sighs, and goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. Strips out of his shirt and trousers, brushes his teeth, has a piss.. All with a sort of pit in his stomach. It’s not exactly sadness, not exactly anger. Just.. Emptiness. He really thought he was doing it right. He gets in bed, and if he wraps his arms around the other pillow and shoves his face in it, expecting the smell of Dream but getting the smell of his laundry detergent instead, nobody needs to know.

——————————————————————

Rowan sleeps, and wanders. Through fields and grasslands, over mountains and ravines. They’re not sure what they’re looking for, but they know there’s something. 

They drop down, exhaustedly, in an open field, watching the sky shimmer with stars. They hear footsteps coming closer, but the sound isn’t threatening, and they’re too tired to move, so they don’t. Sue them, they feel like they got exiled all over again.

“You are not from around here.” A voice says, a female voice, a voice they recognise. They find the strength to sit up. “You..” A small, pixie-like creature stands next to them, her brown hair short and choppy, her ears just as pointed as theirs. Their eyes widen, shit, they really can’t seem to be inconspicuous lately. 

“You’re Ash-” “I don’t go by that name anymore. It’s Rowan.” They interrupt, a bit defensively. If they didn’t feel like they just ran a marathon, they would flee. 

“Alright. I’m Nuala.” She sits down next to them. “I.. I know who you are. You were a real big deal. I’m.. I’m sorry.” They say, and she shrugs, sitting closer. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault I was gifted to him like an object.” At that, Rowan’s eyes widen, and narrow again. “Who is him?” 

“The king here. He’s.. A bit of a prick, to be honest.” Nuala giggles, and Rowan chuckles with her. “He’s strange. Doesn’t really talk much, mostly watches.” She continues. “He did say he liked what I did with the decoration. He.. he is difficult sometimes. Doesn’t trust easily.” Rowan nods. “I know some people like that. They take a while to warm up, but-” “He can’t warm up. He can only tolerate, I think sometimes.” She sighs. “I.. I used to like him, dreamt of a relationship with him. It's all a bit ironic, now.” She chuckles wetly, and Rowan can feel their heart break for her. “What’s his name?” they ask, scooting closer. They’ve always been up for a good gossiping. 

“His name’s Dream.” 

Oh.

Fuck.

“Tall, pale, goth? Black hair, bluest fucking eyes you ever did see?” They say, standing up, suddenly not so tired anymore. Nuala frowns, “Yeah, how did you know?” 

Fuck. 

“I saw him today, he was all defensive and cold. D’you think I pissed him off? Would he have the power to send me back?” They ask, concerned. “I.. I don't want to go back, I’m good by myself, I really don’t need the pressure-” A silhouette appears on the horizon, almost seems to materialise there, and they stop talking. The figure gets bigger, and Nuala stands as well. 

“There he is,” she says. “I.. I should go.” And in a cloud of sand, almost glittery pink, she’s gone.

And then they stand there, too tired to flee this impending doom, it seems. Did.. did he do this to them?

As he gets closer they see he’s wearing some sort of cloak, fire licking on the seams. He seems mad, powerful. Rowan doesn’t quite know what to do. They’re.. Scared.

“No need to be frightened, Rowan Sorbus.” He says, when he’s in hearing range. “Easy for you to say. What did I do to piss you off, eh?” They choose offence, no point in being nice. Dream’s eyes narrow. “I am not angry, Rowan. This, all of it.. Was a case of miscommunication. I was under the impression that you were planning on hurting your teacher, Hob Gadling. The Fae can be.. complicated creatures.” Rowan opens their mouth to say something, but Dream is quicker, “I now know. That that is incorrect, and it was.. Not good of me to make that assumption.” Rowan nods.

“No, no.. Yeah. It.. It’s okay. I’ve had worse. Why..” They have this nervous tick, where they rub the ridge of their ears, to check if they’re still as pointy. They wished they fit in more, sometimes. “Why are you so protective over Mr. Gadling?” Dream’s lips quirk, just a little, but Rowan spots it.

“We are good friends. We have been for quite a while.” Rowan frowns. “How long?” “You would not believe me if I told you.” They chuckle, nodding. “Mh, sure. Try me.” 

“We have known each other precisely for six hundred thirty three years, one month and nine days.” Rowan whistles between their teeth. “Mr. Gadling’s immortal?” “He is.” “Wouldn’t have guessed, he hides it well. Although I could smell something Other on him. Maybe that’s just you, though. How long have you been together?” Do Rowan’s eyes deceive them, or do they spot a blush on Dream’s marble face?

“We are friends.” He mutters, and it sounds almost like he’s convincing himself. Rowan whistles again, and sits down in the grass. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you today, Dream. I’ve seen the way you are protective over him. You better figure stuff out. You might be defensive about him, but I am just as much. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Dream nods, slowly. “I.. understand.” “Do you understand yourself? Your feelings?” Dream frowns. “I am not interested in a therapy session with you, little Fae.” Rowan snorts. “Pff- Fuck. That’s now what I want either. I just want you to be good for Mr. Gadling. In whatever way. Friends, or boyfriends, whatever. Just..” They stand again, facing Dream, looking properly at him for the first time. He’s quite handsome. “Be good to him, alright? I.. I don’t want to lose my family again.” They ask, and Dream nods. “I will. Now wake up, little Fae. I think you will find that you helped me a lot when you get lessons from him again.” Rowan nods, and blinks. When they open their eyes, they’re laying in their bed, wide awake.

——————————————————————

Hob is sitting in the New Inn, the evening sun streaming through the windows. He has his eyes closed, he’s not grading papers, just enjoying his business, enjoying the weather, when the bell on the door rings, and he cracks open an eye to see Dream, out of place in his black trenchcoat. Hob grins, and waves him over. 

“Hob..” He mutters as he sits down in the chair in front of him. Hob likes the way he says his name.  “I have had an interesting conversation with someone last week. It made me realise certain things. These things are.. Better said in private, if you do not mind.” Hob frowns, but a smirk tugs at his lips. “Sure, Dream.” He stands. “Is there something wrong?” “Not at all.” Dream mutters, and follows Hob up the stairs.

Hob falls down on his couch with a sigh that could only be made by fathers, and invites Dream to sit next to him. He does, and it’s a sight. Hob made sure to sit on the broken part of the couch. He remembers. “So. What was it that you wanted to say?” 

Dream opens his mouth, and closes it again. When his lips part again, he can only say “I..” before changing his mind. Hob thinks he looks like a fish. A pretty fish, though. “Take your time.” 

“I have been thinking.” Hob shifts in his seat, grinning. “That’s dangerous. Go on.” “And I have come to a realisation. About myself. However, it concerns you as well, yet I do not wish to change how things are going if you do not wish it as well, and I-” “Dream. Think about what you are going to say, and say it, please. It sounds serious.”

Dream sighs, frowns a little, and Hob’s eyes get drawn to the little crease between his brows, then the sharp edge of his nose, then the soft arch of his lips..

“Do you want some tea while you think?” Hob says, suddenly. Dream nods, absentmindedly. He looks like he’s piecing together a puzzle in his head, brow still furrowed. Hob stands, but Dream grabs his wrist gently. “Wait.” Dream stands, and now they're in front of each other, but Dream is avoiding his gaze. 

“I have come to realise. That I care a great deal about you, Hob. More than.. humans would consider a friendship. I..” Hob's face softens, he almost melts. “Oh Dream..” Hob grabs his other hand. “I would like for us to..” “Be together? As like.. a couple?” A man can hope, Hob thinks. You never know with Dream, what he really means. Dream smiles, softly. “Yes. A romantic relationship.” 

Hob sighs, smiling. He seems to melt, and leans his forehead against Dream’s chest, chuckling. “God.. that was smooth. So..” He pulls back, to look Dream in the eyes. He looks rather surprised with Hob’s touchiness, but not disturbed. “Could.. Could I possibly.. Kiss you, then?” Dream’s lips part, and they catch Hob’s attention, his eyes lingering there.

“I would like that, Hob.” Hob untangles one of his hands from Dream’s, brings it up to his face. He traces patterns over the smooth skin there, relishing in the way Dream’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses a soft kiss against his lips, lingering a little. He tips his forehead against Dream’s, and sighs. 

“You literally have no idea for how long I wanted to do that.” He chuckles, and Dream opens his eyes. “It might have been centuries since I have been kissed. Millenia since I have been kissed so.. Lovingly.” Dream admits, and Hob pouts a little as he says it, bringing his hands up to Dream’s face. “That’s terrible, duck. You deserve it, really do, you-” “I would like to discuss this at a later time. For now, would you kiss me again?” Dream looks almost scared to ask, and Hob’s heart breaks. “Of course, duck. Always. Would kiss you always.”

Dream closes the gap now, and their lips slot together like two tectonic plates, creating volcanoes in Hob’s brain and ravines in Dream’s stomach. Dream tastes like lightning, Hob notices when he slips his tongue inside, like a thunderstorm, like the smell of wet concrete. It’s jarring, almost, but Hob has always loved nature, loved sitting outside in the rain while his mates cowered in their bunks. He can love Dream like that, he thinks. Love him even though he’s terrifying, love him even though he can be destructive. Hob will keep him from destroying himself. 

Dream’s cold hand slides in Hob’s hair, tangling his fingers in the strands, and Hob lets out an embarrassing sound. Dream pulls back. “Are you all right?” he asks, concerned, and Hob chuckles slightly. “Yeah, duck. M’fine. S’just.. Been a while since I’ve been touched like that as well. You might not believe it, but the life of a history professor isn’t all that exciting. Think.. Think if we do more right now it’s gonna be even more embarrassing for me.”  Dream frowns. “So you would enjoy..” “Maybe going to bed together? Cuddling? Kissing some more, if you want?” Hob slides his hand down Dream’s arm, tangling their fingers together. Dream lets him. “I would like that quite a lot.” “We.. We have all the time in the world to do the rest. For now, I just want to be cosy with you. Want to see how you wake up.” “I do not sleep. Not like you.” Hob chuckles. “Then pretend, for my sake.” 

Hob lets his hand slip out of Dream’s, and leads the way towards the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable.” He says, vaguely gesturing to the bed. “Gonna brush my teeth, have a wee.” Hob strips out of his shirt and trousers, and notices Dream’s gaze lingers, not with hunger, but with fascination. Hob slips into the bathroom, and quickly does what he announced. When he comes back Dream is still sitting on the side of the bed, his hands politely in his lap. Still in that fucking trenchcoat.

Hob walks over, and motions for Dream to stand again. He lifts his hands, and fiddles with the first button of his coat. “That alright?” He says, and Dream nods. Hob struggles with the second button, and Dream just waves his hand, letting the coat dissolve into dreamstuff. Hob gasps a little, and that amuses Dream. 

Hob helps him out of his shirt, and watches as he slips out of his trousers. They’re both in their pants now, letting the other map out their body with his gaze. “Shall we..?” He says, nodding to the bed, and they both slide under the covers, facing each other.

Hob reaches out first, grazing his fingertips over Dream’s collarbones, then up his shoulder, down his arm. “You are cold.” Hob notices. “Does it bother you?” He traces back up his arm, cupping his cheek so softly, like he’s made of porcelain. “Not at all, duck. I’m always running hot.. It would be comfortable to be with you.” Dream smiles softly, and reaches out, mapping out the scars on Hob’s chest, running his fingers through the hair there, then back up, to tangle in his hair, bringing him close and letting their lips lock. 

The kiss is soft, gentle, almost lazy in the way that there is no rush, there never is with them. Like Hob said, they have all the time in the world. They can figure stuff out in their own time. They might be a god and a witch, an idea and an immortal, but right now, they’re two men, cuddling together in bed, so in love there aren’t really words for it. 

——————————————————————

In the next few months, Dream comes over almost daily, sleeps over about as much. They figure out a rhythm. Dream doesn’t eat, but enjoys watching Hob cook. Dream is enthralled by the television, and his favourite show is The Golden Girls, although he’d never admit it.  Hob likes to offer Dream tea, and he actually drank it once or twice. Hob counts it as a win. 

“My darling..” 

And then there’s that. Hob started calling Dream ‘duck’ as soon as he could, but it took Dream a while to warm up to the fact that he is allowed to love Hob visually. 

Hob hums in response from the kitchen. “Come here.” Dream murmurs, and Hob walks towards him, his shirt covered in flour. “What are you making?” “Cookies, duck.” Dream hums, and pats next to him on the couch. “Come here.” He says again, and Hob nods. “One second, duck, gonna wash my hands real quick.” Hob disappears into the kitchen, and comes back a moment later, cleaner now.

Hob walks to sit next to Dream, but he  manhandles him into his lap. “Oh!” Dream hums, nuzzles his neck. “You are beautiful, my love.” Hob chuckles. “Mh, thank you, duck.” 

“You have been having daydreams, my love.” Dream can feel Hob’s cheeks heat up. “You can see those?” “It is effortful, but yes. You are worth the effort.” Dream presses a kiss to Hob's jaw. “One daydream keeps resurfacing. You.. you want me to fuck you.” Hob lets out a strangled sound. “I.. well yeah.” “You want me to push you into the mattress. Touch you all over. Do not leave a part of you unkissed, unloved.” 

Hob hides his face in Dream’s neck, presses a lazy kiss there. “Yeah. I do. But.. I don't know if you want to as well.” “I would love to, Hob. After dinner, perhaps?” He says it like he's talking about dessert, not about taking Hob apart piece by piece. Hob sighs, and it turns into a chuckle.

“I would love that.” He says, and presses another soft kiss in the crook of Dream’s neck. This time, Dream shivers. “Is that good?” Hob whispers, and kisses him there again, scraping his teeth over his skin a little, and Dream hums, a low rumble Hob can feel. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Dream rumbles. “Mh. Haven’t I already?” Hob kisses his neck again. “Quite successfully, might I add. God, you’re beautiful.” Hob fits his teeth over Dream’s Adam’s apple, and he grumbles, grabbing Hob’s arse and standing up, manhandling him to the bedroom, dropping him on the bed.

“You tease me, Hob Gadling.” Hob looks up at him, eyes full of admiration. “Sure do, duck.” Dream crawls over him, their faces inches from each other, as Dream runs his finger over Hob’s chest, turning his jumper into dreamstuff. “That was my favourite-” “I will make you another one. A better one.” “Dream..” “Please. Shut up.” And he kisses him, and it’s thunderstorms and electricity all over again, like someone put a spark to Hob’s brain. Dream lets Hob’s other clothes disappear, and runs his hands down his body, still kissing him. Hob lets out a “hmph-” tugging at Dream’s clothes, and they disappear just as easily. 

“After dinner, right?” Hob jokes as Dream kisses down his body, and his chuckle turns into a sigh as Dream finds the sensitive spot in his neck. “How could I wait when you tease me like that, my love?” Hob groans. “You are.. Insatiable..” “Tell me your daydreams, love.” “You know..” “Tell me. I want to hear it. What do you want, my darling?” Dream is nuzzling his stomach now, and Hob smiles down at the sight, Dream’s pale fingers splayed out over the soft arch of his middle, his plump lips pressed against his skin where an especially big scar disappears into Hob’s trousers.. 

“Want you to fuck me, Dream..” Hob throws his head back into the pillows as Dream sucks a bruise into the skin of his hip. “Want you to eat me out first, is that alright?” “You are not telling me everything, my Hob. You want me to push you down, ‘face down, arse up’, as you think so unceremoniously. Would you want me to do that now?” Hob sighs again, lets out a “God yes please holy fuck-” and Dream flips him effortlessly onto his stomach, spreading his hand between his shoulderblades, pushing him down.

“You are like the sun, Hob. It took me a while to look at you, but you have so many marks, from so many centuries of living.” Dream slides his hands down Hob’s sides, down to his arse where he unmakes his boxers as well. Dream cups his arse with his hands, and Hob sighs, his face pushed into the pillows. “Please..” 

Dream spreads his cheeks, and lets out a huff. “You..” “Mh, fuck- Did I forget to tell you?” Hob lets himself drop fully onto the bed, and turns around to face Dream. “I’m trans. I have a cunt. Is that.. A problem?” Dream lets out another huff. “Not at all, my love. Not at all.” He nuzzles Hob’s hip, fits his lips over his hip bone. “I was just surprised, you have never mentioned it before.” “Not something you go advertising around, duck.” “Mh. That is a shame.” Dream wraps his hand around Hob’s thigh, and lifts it so it’s resting on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the inside of it. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, and Hob melts at the sight, Dream’s eyes shining so brightly, asking for approval at every move.. “It’s perfect, duck. This is good. Please..” Hob cups Dream’s face, and then moves it so his fingers are tangled in his hair, pushing him towards his cunt. Dream shoots look at him, and darts his pink tongue over his lips, making Hob groan. 

Hob throws his head back, tangling his fingers in Dream’s hair as he finally does what he’s been wanting him to do for centuries. Hob babbles, keens, and Dream hums low in his throat, licking and sucking like it’s his last fucking meal. 

“Dream, fuck.. Please-” Hob hooks his knee behind Dream’s neck, pushing him closer. “Fuck.. That’s good- Please..” Hob’s back arches, pushing himself further into Dream’s mouth. 

The sensations are almost too much, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure that makes his head spin. Dream’s hands roam, squeezing and caressing, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. Hob’s moans grow louder, echoing in the room, a testament to Dream’s skill. Hob vaguely thinks about where he could’ve picked it up, but then Dream slides two fingers into Hob’s hole, shutting his mind off effectively. “So.. Fucking close, duck..” He groans, and Dream lets out a low chuckle, the sound going straight south for Hob. 

“Dream..” “What would you like, my love?” Dream pulls back slightly, and leans his cheeks against Hob’s inner thigh. Hob looks down, and Dream’s lips and chin are covered in his slick. “Would you come right now? Or let me indulge in you even more, and fill you up, taking you the way you have been dreaming about?” A small smirk plays at Dream’s lips, and Hob fists the sheets, letting go and gripping again, trying to ground himself before even trying to properly form a thought. Dream tilts his head in question.

“Fuck, love.. Need you to give me a break after you suck my soul out through my cunt, goddammit..” He chuckles slightly, and Dream does as well, pressing a soft and wet kiss to Hob’s thigh, the hair there tickling his face. “What will it be, my love?” Hob sighs, pets through Dream’s hair while he thinks. 

“I.. We have all the time in the world, right?” He asks, a soft smile on his face at the sigh of Dream’s eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. He hums. “Then we have actual infinite opportunities to do what I wanted to do. Right now.. I just want you to fuck me, duck. But I want to look at you.” Dream is smirking now, and crawls over Hob again, dissolving his pants into dreamstuff in the same movement. 

“Quite the romantic..” Dream hums as he kisses at Hob’s jaw, who goes slack like putty at the touch. “I would love to fuck you, darling. Slow?” He mumbles, and Hob nods breathlessly, he cannot believe his luck, still can’t quite believe Dream is here. “Yeah, duck.. Want you to take me apart, please.” 

“Then I will do so, my love.” He kisses Hob, slowly, and slides inside him with a sigh. Hob throws his head back into the pillows, his lips slipping from Dream’s, so he settles for pressing his lips to Hob’s neck again, starting to move slowly, deliberately, watching every microexpression on Hob’s face as he does so. Dream sighs as he moves, focussed on Hob, trying not to pay attention to the growing tug in his gut. 

First, his lips part in a silent moan, then they quiver as Dream slides a hand down his body to rub Hob’s cock while he makes love to him. Then Hob almost squeals in delight, biting his lip to not make too much noise. “Duck.. Please- I’m gonna-” “Yes..” It’s almost a hiss, and Dream picks up the pace slightly, the soft sounds of them panting and skin slapping skin filling the room. 

Hob feels electric, on fire, but also calm, like the eye of a tornado. It’s like Dream has finally found the off-switch to his brain, the only thing he can think of is Dream, Dream, Dream. 

He wraps his arms around his lover, pulling him close when he comes, and if he sheds a few tears, Dream didn’t notice, he’s too busy creating novas in his eyes, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look pitch black. His lips are parted, kissed pink and glossy, and he feels so human, so vulnerable, so one with Hob. He collapses on top of him, panting.

——————————————————————

After, they lay in bed, cuddled up and cosy, warm under the blankets. Dream is resting, and a sunbeam caresses his face, filtering through his hair. His head is laying on Hob’s stomach, warm and happy. Hob’s cookies are long forgotten, the dough still laying on the kitchen counter where he left it. Dream doesn’t snore, but hums slowly, a rhythm that lulls Hob in and out of The Dreaming.

“We should get out of bed, perhaps.” Dream opens one eye to look at him, and frowns. “I do not see the need for that. We are happy, we are together.” Hob smiles softly, and sinks his fingers into Dream’s hair, earning a low hum from him. “We have other things to do, maybe?” Hob suggests, but he knows he’ll lose this argument. He doesn’t really care that much. “Mh. We, my darling, have all the time in the world.” 

~~~

@rainy-days-and-nights @fellshish you might like this

[dearabhi]

treacle tarts & failed dates - harry j.potter

a/n: hello! this is something i wrote awhile ago, and it was during 3am and never saw it again, so there are mistakes! so please don't mind them </3 AND i imagine this fic takes place after the war but u can imagine as a muggle au too!

summary: after yet another failed date, harry is at his bestfriend, y/n's home and y/n makes treacle tarts. then a sudden realisation hits harry.

word count: 600- ish?

hope u like it <3

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

“I just don't get it!,” Harry says as he continues his rants— Harry had yet another failed date with a barista who worked in a café that he regularly went to. The barista was cute. He even had dimples when he smiled that made Harry lose his mind. “He could've just said that he is not interested! He could've just said that he had eyes on someone else! Instead he said it when we were on a date!”

“First of all, Harry, You should stop going on dates with every person you think is pretty!” Y/N's voice echoed from the kitchen. She was doing— cooking something that Harry is not supposed to know. “..being attracted to them and liking them are different...” Y/N continued on.

Harry suddenly smelled the scent of treacle tarts and his legs automatically stood up and he made his way to the kitchen.

Harry watches Y/N while she takes out the treacle tarts out of the oven— still not noticing Harry's presence in the kitchen as she still seemed to be talking about something but Harry can't focus on what she's talking about right now. All that mattered to Harry right now was the freshly baked treacle tarts and—

“Harry, are you even listening to me?” Y/N asked, facing him with a stern look on her face. One look of her and Harry had chills. He suddenly found the ceiling interesting.

“Harry Potter! Look at me while I am talking! Honestly I don't even know how Mione and Ron handle you all day!” Y/N complaints. Then suddenly Harry feels warm hands cupping his cheeks.

Y/N connected the two's foreheads and says so softly that he feels like he might— “Look, Harry, I know whatever this barista guy did—”

“ Xavier,” Harry interrupted.

“Whatever this Xavier did is completely unfair and he should not have done that! At the same time, It hurts me to see you heartbroken every two weeks!” She continues. Well, that part was true. He is going on dates with every pretty person he sees and they seem to reject him or he does not like them that way. In short, it has not been going well.

And after his (failed) dates, he goes to Y/N's place and pretty much spills it all out. (He also goes there because Y/N is pretty darn good at making treacle tarts) (also because Ron and Hermione can't handle a mourning Harry).

Harry tries to listen to Y/N. But somehow, his focus is on the flour that is on her cheek, he wants to remove it so bad. His focus then drifts to Y/N's eyes which were filled with concern and was also mesmerising. Oh god, what did he just think?

There was nothing wrong in that statement. Y/N L/N is beyond beautiful both inside and outside. Harry was now thinking something he would never mention because—

Nope, He thinks to himself aggressively. Don't. If he thinks that once, Harry will be long gone and there would be no returning back.

“Now, Harry, bring the treacle tarts will you? I will be putting on the TV so we can continue the muggle show we were watching, yeah?” Y/N asks, concluding her speech which Harry might not have listened to. Harry nodded and Y/N smiled back at him.

Y/N left the room after planting a small kiss on Harry's cheek. And Harry might've blushed. There is no avoiding the thought now.

Harry is definitely falling in love with his best friend, Y/N L/N.

[galaxycunt]

I Dream Of You

The Punk Buggy fic 😎 just for u my friends @gayafsatan @gingernut1314 @hey-august @rorywritesjunk @operationroots

Modern AU kinda

Let us all think back on the time of hooking up at a show with sticky floors and your ears left ringing for a few days after.

You wouldn’t admit it to a single soul, but you had a crush on Buggy. He was the kind of guy you couldn’t miss in a crowd, you weren’t sure if you’d even recognize him without his clown get up. Sometimes he’d even dress like a pirate, he was a funny guy. Buggy the Clown.

He’d never notice you though, people gravitate towards a guy like that, not someone like you. So tonight, you watched him like always. At point in the night he lost the big red clown nose he always wore, currently on his hands and knees looking for the damn thing while one of his friends held up their phone for a light.

You saw it though, you could be the hero. Before the woman next to you could step on the nose, or your hands, you grabbed it. You felt a cold sweat, you had your chance. Did he know you? You knew the band that opened, surely that wasn’t too weird to bring up?

“Hey! Buggy!”

He flashed a smile, prancing over to you, “holy shit. Thanks!”

“I’m uh,” you were more flustered than you realized.

“What?”

You repeated your name, shouting into his ear. He nodded with a smile, motioning you for a drink. You second guessed the way you nodded as you two navigated your way to the kitchen.

“Let’s go outside,” he said.

This was so fast, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“I’ve seen you around, you live here?”

“Nah, my friend does. They’re the opener.”

“Oh shit! That’s cool!”

You nodded, thinking of the best thing to say as he smoked and drank.

“I know you, Buggy. I really dig the costume.”

“It’s my uniform.”

“Oh is it? That’s so cool, man.”

He laughed, “yeah I can make balloon animals. I juggle too.”

“That’s so fucking cool! Wait, like anything? Can you juggle, uh, sticks?”

He laughed, picking up three random sticks in the yard to juggle. A few people turned to watch, but he only focused on you if not the sticks in the air.

You applauded, “see that’s why clowns are hot.”

He cocked his head, “what’d you say?”

You blushed, “clowns are fun. I never got the whole they’re scary thing. They’re funny.”

He only smiled, letting a comfortable silence fall as you listened to the band from outside. You wracked your brains for conversation starters, you didn’t think you’d get this far.

“Would you like another beer?”

“Yes, please.”

“Stay put.”

You locked eyes with a friend, nodding in approval. This was so embarrassing, everyone was gonna know by the end of the night. You looked at your friend again.

“Fuck him,” they mouthed.

Did he wanna fuck you? Should you try?

“For you,” he bowed, holding out a can.

“Thanks.”

“Least I can do, you saved my nose.”

“Where’s Richie?”

He had a small cat on a leash sometimes, the only other time you’ve talked to Buggy was to pet his cat.

“He’s getting old, left him at home for some peace.”

“Aw, I love that little cat. He’s so good.”

“Well maybe you can come over, meet him.”

“I-I’d love that.”

Buggy stared at you a beat before speaking, “can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Why he wanted to do that, you’ll find out later. Right now, all your brain focused on was his lips on yours.

“So why are clowns hot?”

You flushed, “o-oh. My god, uh. It’s kinda like a mask but not? I can get all messy when we make out?”

He raised his eyebrows, “interesting. I like it.”

You tried to shrug nonchalantly, “yeah, man. I like what I like.”

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You smiled so brightly at him, he seemed to love it.

“Come on, you say this is your friend’s house?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled, “so they won’t mind if we discussed this more inside?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he led you towards the upstairs bathroom. He rubbed your back, your hand flew to your cheeks to cover the burning you figured was too obvious at this point.

Before you could say a word, he pushed you against the door, teeth grazing your lips and your ears. Instinctively, you spread your legs, arms holding you steady on his shoulders.

“Do the gloves make it hotter or do you want it off?”

You thought about it, “off. The nose too.”

He laughed into your kiss, squeezing your thighs before he fumbled around with your jeans. You could barely think, you hoped the music was loud enough, the line outside not forming too long.

Would it be too cheesy to say anything? Your hands dropped to roam under his shirt, the cool metal of his piercings under your warm skin sent a hiss escaping his mouth. Your glided your palms against him again, he bit your lip in thanks.

Buggy shoved your pants down, dipping a finger inside you. You couldn’t stay as quiet as you wanted to, bucking your hips into his hand as he fingered you.

“Fuck me, buggy. Oh shit.”

“Beg for it.”

“Please, oh fuck. Please.”

You watched yourself in the bathroom mirror getting fucked, Buggy was only focused on your pleasure. You only had a few moments before someone would really know what you two were up to in here, he thrusted faster and faster.

“Fuck anyone outside, let them fucking hear it.”

You moaned hoarsely as you came around his cock. Buggy mumbling in your ear as his thrust became erratic.

“Fuck, I always wanted to fuck you. Fucking shit.”

You let him fill you up, he didn’t pull out as he caught his breath. He splashed his face with water, looking at the two of you in the mirror.

“Picasso.”

“Shut up, jerk,” you smiled.

You cleaned up the best you could, with Buggy stealing kisses the entire time.

You pretended you were in there puking, looking sick as he slung his arm around you. You were really dehydrated, you wanted to sleep.

“Lemme take you home, go see Richie.”

You nodded, “yeah.”

Buggy smiled at himself before speaking, “make you honk like a real clown.”

To him, the shove you gave him was worth it.”

[aalghul]

read boywonder and exploded died (in a bad way)

talia... what have they done to you... what do they always do to you... ‘there is no honour in assassin’s work’ talia... where are u... the apple of my eye, i adore her sm very close to sending pipebombs to GM everyday waow...

watching people talk about how good this was for talia feels like chewing glass. boy wonder was clearly written by someone who has not read anything involving talia prior to grant morrison and doesn't care about her outside of whatever can justify her becoming an abusive backstory for damian.

boy wonder completely disrespects her struggle during the time when she was so conflicted because she wanted to be loyal to her father but wasn't sure if she believed in him entirely anymore. the struggle existed because talia knew she would not abide by nor aid him if she did not agree with him. because talia has her own moral compass and beliefs that she follows. juni ba disregards this very important part of her journey to instead make her an entirely different character apparently did not disagree with ra's at any point before her own son was threatened (going as far as making her uncaring towards damian's former caretaker to show us how twisted her way of thinking is. mind you, this is supposedly the same talia who cried the first time she accidentally killed someone and has risked her life to help strangers, the JLA, jason todd, etc). she has to be turned into a different person just because boy wonder needs her to be framed as a somewhat sympathetic villain who gets what she deserves by having her son leave her for a better family. her "happy ending" is knowing that damian's other family is making him happy, which she never could because the story deems her incapable of that.

along these lines is another thing i found insulting: juni ba insinuating that talia's love for bruce may have been caused by talia wanting to please her father, who wanted bruce as an heir. when in reality, ra's only took notice of bruce after talia fell in love with bruce. it was because talia was outspoken enough in front of her father to bring up bruce that ra's cared about him at all. it was because talia had been off in cairo studying medicine that she had been caught up in a scheme that took her to bruce. all of those were her own choices, and juni ba wants us to question whether any of it was real because he doesn't believe talia has ever had agency. all because he himself clearly has never read talia outside of recent comics.

related to the above: juni ba insists talia wanted to be the heir to the league of assassins. pre-GM talia has never expressed this. she's never even implied it. from everything we've seen, it's pretty clear she would never want to nor would she able to stomach so much death. because it's canon that talia's heart hurts for everyone she sees killed. but, again, juni ba does not care about this whatsoever because his story is about damian and the bats. talia's characterization is always acceptable collateral damage when it comes to damian and the bats.

the more I think about it, the more I hate juni ba's misinterpretation of her. people so readily accept things like boy wonder and WFA when it comes to talia because they know so little about the most foundational parts of her character and it's really upsetting that big projects will continue to give such ooc stories as the best case scenario for talia. this is equivalent to someone writing a story where bruce decided to not take in dick or jason because the mission's more important than one kid. that would make bruce a different and less compelling character, right? that's exactly what happened to talia here (and in wfa and in everything GM wrote and in pretty much every story written since then). these are very integral parts of her character. if boy wonder as a story can't function without talia being so thoroughly destroyed? it was never a story worth telling (and it really isn't. because it's truly not a good story at all, which makes talia being wrecked for it even worse).

it makes me so angry because things like this are exactly why people don't see talia the same way they see selina or bruce or any other character ever! she continues to be pushed into the role of the harmful past who can only atone for her mistakes by now becoming an obsolete observer.