#CrackFic

[yapperingtinaa]

It was way over 9pm, which means it was past your little daughter's bedtime.

And yet not a strand of the white haired toddler could be seen throughout the mansion ever since the Crow Twins started a Hide-and-Seek game right after dinner hours ago.

You were getting worried, agitated even, and it didn't help that Sylus seemed so calm and nonchalant about it. His amused eyes followed your every step as you looked through rooms after rooms to find your little girl.

The deep chuckle he lets out when you stomp your feet in frustration, both hands planting on your hips as you glared up at him, "Are you going to help me find your little fiend or not?"

Sylus gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest in a feigned shock as he gazed at you with a pout. "Fiend? My dear, our daughter is an angel."

You rolled your eyes, storming towards him and poking on his chest with an annoyed grumble. "She will be an angel once you put her to bed now or you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight, my darling insufferable husband."

From the upper stairs, Luke and Kieran snickered quietly, not wanting to be the receiving end of your wrath. Their eyes flickered upwards towards the source of your headache then back to Sylus who coincidentally locked sight with the twins with a knowing look.

Luke and Kieran immediately straighten up with a playful salute as they disappear down the hallway, knowing full well you were going to whoop their asses sooner or later when Sylus finally revealed the whereabouts of his mischievous little daughter with an equally playful grin in his tone.

"Have you tried looking up, sweetie?"

You paused, confused until you looked upwards where Sylus oh so casually pointed, specifically towards the large antique chandelier in the middle of the room - where your little daughter was dangling upside down, her dragon tail curled firmly around the metal and her small wings fluttering excitedly as she let out a high-pitched squeal at finally being found by you.

Meanwhile you nearly had a heart attack right then and there.

"SYLUS GET HER DOWN HERE NOWWWW!"

[fromdove]

ㅤㅤㅤTEXTS I THINK GOTHAMITES HAVE SENT ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ DURING A CRISIS

emma: guys is it normal for my ceiling to be dripping green again or is this like a joker thing or a plumbing thing idk how to tell anymore

kevin : if it smells like fear toxin it’s the first one if it smells like mold it’s still the first one tbh

selena: tell the landlord. and then figure out batmans number. then call batman. and then call your mom.

emma: i already texted the landlord and he replied with “😬” which like. valid. but not helpful. it smells like copper btw

kevin: girl that man has one wrench and a dream he’s not surviving another clown-based incident

selena: ok but is the green drip glowing?? like are we talking nickelodeon slime or eldritch warning sign

emma: it’s glowing a little??? but not like aggressively like “i’m cursed” not “i’m immediately dying”

kevin: mmm light radioactive. like a zesty haunt. got it.

selena: did you taste it

emma: NO???? why would i i touched it tho

kevin: girl you’re gonna grow a second tongue or something this is how metahumans happen. you’re gonna start glowing in the dark and join a vigilante gang

selena: honestly. real. call me when your origin story starts i wanna be in the flashback montage

emma: i’ll make sure you’re played by zendaya in the dramatized retelling

kevin: i want to be the friend who says ���she was never the same after that leak” and then sips dramatically

selena: anyway i googled it and apparently if it’s slightly glowing green and smells like copper), it’s probably leftover from the scarecrow thing last week. the city

emma: so like. green vintage gas. cute.

kevin: limited edition trauma drip

selena: gotham-core

emma: ok but real talk do i open a window or call 911 or just go back to bed and let fate decide

kevin: depends. do u want powers or not

emma: u guys r so unserious...i’ll take a nap with the window cracked. compromise.

selena: classic gotham response. proud of you

kevin: text us if u start levitating or if a raccoon starts talking to u just so we know

[prokopetz]

I understand that The Amazing Digital Circus is ripe for "what if the main character snapped and killed everybody" crackfic, but y'all, if Pomni went off the deep end she would not be your sexy glitchcore murderwife. She'd do it screaming and flailing, and it'd make Tom and Jerry sound effects the whole time she's killing you.

[haltderpyy]

Crackfic idea: PV and DE fighting over custody of the brave trio in court

[nanenna]

Have some crack.

"Well, what has everyone's capes in a twist?" Zatanna asked as she walked into the cafeteria in Mount Justice. She found Green Arrow, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, and Superman off to the side watching the goings on with various expressions of amusement. Batman was closer to the center of the room, just inside a circular area that had been cleared of tables and chairs, the current Robin held firmly in his grasp. Just on the other side of the clearing stood Wonder Woman, arms tensed to keep the Lasso of Truth tight in her grip, some sort of creature languishing at her feet.

"I take it this is the problem?" Zatanna crouched down to get a better look at the small creature. Judging from the head of snow white hair, the creature was face down, making it hard to judge what kind of creature it was. The body was black, with a white stripe near the middle, then more black that twisted, curled, and tapered off in a tail. Honestly between what looked like pointy ears sticking out just past the hair and the long, sinuous tail she could almost believe the creature was a lamia or naga.

"Just had to tie this little guy up with the lasso?" Zatanna smiled as she looked up at Diana, it was certainly a sight to behold.

"This creature has proven itself formidable," Diana responded with a wry grin.

"Do not harm him, he is my new pet," Robin demanded haughtily. Batman's shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

Zatanna smiled at the boy, "Well I'm just going to do a quick identification spell to make sure you know how to properly care for your new pet." She stood up and took a step back, "Uoy era erutaerc fo rennam tahw?"

GHOST

Well that was… odd. And shouldn't be possible. That wasn't one of the answers the spell even could give, it should've come back with something more specific, there were several categories of ghost after all. "Uoy era tsohg fo dnik tahw?"

GHOST

"Fascinating," Zatanna whispered to herself.

Batman gave one of his grunts, with Robin looking very close to demanding answers himself if Zatanna didn't take that grunt as an invitation to explain.

"I think we'll need to call in a specialist." Because what else could she do? For a spell to come back that insistent yet generic meant something about this "ghost" defied her own abilities. She quickly sent off a message, one that couldn't be ignored.

"What kind of specialist?" Superman asked, having moved to where a table and some chairs had hastily been pushed aside before Zatanna got there.

"Oh just our local necromancer, he should be able to get a better read than I can on our little friend here."

"Necromancer?!" Green Arrow asked in shock.

Zatanna sighed,"Necromancers aren't inherently evil just because they work with the dead."

"My pet is not dead," Robin said with a growl while crossing his arms. It was completely adorable.

"I'm afraid our little friend likely is, I'm sorry to say. But that doesn't mean he's not still alive."

Robin crossed his arms harder and pouted, though she's sure he would insist it was a glare.

"A pet that's already died once and come back is a pet that can't ever die again," Zatanna said with a wink.

"Alright, I'm here," a robotic voice announced flatly.

Zatanna turned and smiled, "Hood!"

"Todd," Robin stated angrily.

"Code names," Batman scolded tiredly.

"We are waiting for a so called specialist," Robin continued, "we don't have time for whatever nonsense you've come here for."

"Yeah, I know." Red Hood flicked Zatanna's message back at her, which she simply caught and dissolved. "You're lucky I was already geared up."

"I hope your regular gear includes spell components, our little friend is turning out to be quite the enigma."

Red Hood looked down at the creature. "Huh." He crouched down to get a closer look while Zatanna moved to sit on one of the tables.

"What the fuck?" Red Hood stood up, moved to the side, crouched down again, and tilted his head, he also shot off two more spells.

He looked up at Diana, "The fuck you'd find this thing?"

"Language," Superman scolded while trying to hold back a laugh.

"You're not my real dad," Hood shot back. He stood and rolled his shoulders. "Seriously though, where'd you find it?"

"Robin found it in one of the vents," Batman offered quickly.

"The demon brat would," Hood said through some fuzzing static. "But what the fuck even is this thing?"

"You're the expert," Zatanna reminded him.

"Since when are you a necromancer?" Batman demanded.

"Before the duffle bag, after these," Hood stated confidently as he summoned an All Blade.

Zatanna couldn't help casting a little spell of her own, it wasn't often one got to see them in use.

Batman looked constipated, Robin looked confused. "Do not you need to be in the presence of true evil to use those?"

Hood shrugged, "That's what Ollie's for."

Green Arrow started to protest, but Black Canary elbowed him. Superman hid a laugh behind a cough, Batman did not try to hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Let me rephrase that," Hood stated. "There are not one, but two whole billionaires here, can't get more evil than that."

Batman's shoulders drooped, Green Arrow did protest this time.

"You're right, two-and-a-half."

"You say that as if you do not have a trust fund," Robin sneered.

"Legally dead," Hood replied. "Now stop distracting me, demon brat."

"I'm not a distraction," Robin grumbled.

Red Hood used the sword that was still in his hand to poke the creature.

"Do not stab Harold!" Robin demanded. Batman grabbed the kid before he could lunge at Hood, a blade suddenly in his hand.

"It's a diagnostic stabbing," Hood defended.

Robin looked too confused to answer to that. So did a few of their onlookers. Zatanna just nodded along, a diagnostic stabbing. To be fair, if she had swords that were attached to her soul she could probably do the same thing. She was rather glad she didn't, that just didn't sound pleasant.

Not that Hood was actually stabbing the creature, mostly he was laying the flat of the blade against… Harold. But she knew that according to Hood that was enough and would tell him a lot.

"What even the fuck?" Hood murmured.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Zatanna teased.

"Everything is coming back nonsense, like this thing's writing in his own answers on a multiple choice test."

Zatanna nodded, that really is how her own attempts had felt. "Is he even a ghost?"

"Yeah, pretty sure he's a ghost. Still can't figure out what kind, he could be anything. Poltergeist, shade, yuki onna…"

"Yuki onna?" That wasn't a common type of ghost, Hood wouldn't have mentioned one without reason.

"He's ice type."

"What?"

"Ask him yourself," Hood motioned to the creature with his All Blade.

"Alright, I will." Zatanna hopped to her feet and approached the creature again. "Epyt ruoy s'tahw?"

PRETTY AND BOSSY

Zatanna couldn't help laughing at that.

"What'd you get?" Hood asked, clearly confused even through the voice modulator.

"Pretty and bossy," Zatanna answered with another chuckle.

Hood's voice modulator burst with static. "Wow, okay, not the question I told you to ask, but sure."

"He's just a little guy, it's not his fault she confused him," Green Arrow defended.

"You hear that, demon brat? Your new pet likes girls that are pretty and bossy."

"Don't be so closed minded, he might like pretty boys who are bossy," Black Canary said with a laugh.

"Okay, okay," Zatanna waved everyone off as she got herself back under control. "One more try. Uoy era tsohg fo epyt tahw?"

Zatanna blinked, then blinked again. "Was that…?"

"I think it was the Pokémon symbol for ice type," Hood confirmed.

"……. How?!" That made not a lick of sense! That's not how that spell even worked.

"Writing in his own answers on a multiple choice test," Hood repeated.

Zatanna pressed her lips together. "You know that means whatever he is, this guy's powerful. That's not just something you can do casually."

"What's more worrying is there's no way for this little guy to be that powerful. Human, less than two years dead."

"There's no way that little thing is human," Green Arrow scoffed.

"Wow, rude," Hood said. "Just because he died he stopped being human, I see how it is. Racist."

"Ghosts don't even start to mess with their self image for at least a decade, and that's only if they have the mental flexibility to get past their death. There's no way someone so freshly dead would look like that, not without some sort of curse involved."

"Could be, it might explain the weird results, or at least some of them." Hood dissipated his sword, then reached up and pulled his helmet off. He held it out to Diana, "Hold this for me, please?"

"Certainly," Diana said pleasantly as she finally relaxed her posture and accepted the helmet.

Harold didn't react to the lasso loosening.

Hood crouched down again and poked Harold. The little ghost huffed out a deep sigh, like he had the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Hood poked him again, "C'mon, stop playing dead, we all already know how dead you really are."

"All the way?" Zatanna asked with a snicker.

"Exactly." The poking and prodding continued, "I don't even know why the lasso worked, no matter how magical it is you have to be physical to get caught in it. Why is a ghost so physical? Just density shift."

Harold seemed to have had enough, he turned and bit Hood's finger.

"There we go." Hood stood up, bringing Harold up with him. Now loose, the lasso slipped off, leaving Diana to wind it back up. Harold bit a few more times, moving up Hood's gloved hand as he did so. His strangely squishy face was scrunched up in concentration.

"That is such an uncanny valley face," Zatanna commented. It really was, but dealing with any spirit was often like staring right at AI art, somehow they never quite got it right and had trouble with any kind of fine details, unless they obsessed over a particular detail and got it hyperrealistic.

"Eh, kinda cute I gess. I can see why Robin wants him for a pet."

Robin shrugged off Batman's hold and stepped forward, "And I'm ready to take Harold home. You may visit to detail his proper care."

Before Hood could hand the ghost over, he chirped and warbled before winding up Hood's arm, around his neck, then up to Hood's head, where he snuffled around in Hood's hair.

Hood blindly grabbed for the little ghost, "C'mere, Harold, your boy wants you."

"Curse or no, he is still a person and should be treated as such," Zatanna said as she leaned back to watch.

"When the curse is lifted and he is capable of making decisions he will be allowed to make his own decisions," Batman promised, though he looked quite grim and reluctant about the whole thing.

Hood finally got his hand on Harold and pulled the little ghost down. Harold flopped over so he was being held like a baby and snuggled up to Hood's chest, giving off happy little trills and warbles.

"Alright, little pest, go be someone else's annoyance." Hood held his arm out towards Robin.

Harold let out a pitiful whine and latched onto Hood's hand with his stubby little paws, looking up at the necromancer with big, wobbling eyes. Literally wobbling, as in his big, round eyes were literally changing shape like a cartoon character. It was like watching a train wreck.

Robin held his hands up, "Harold, are you ready to come home?"

Harold turned and hissed at Robin, his face morphing and stretching into something with far too many teeth and big, dark eyebrows. He swatted at Robin with his stubby little paw, missing by a mile, then turned back towards Hood and half slithered half floated up his arm to curl around the necromancer's neck like a particularly stubborn scarf.

Hood sighed, "I was afraid of that. Sorry kiddo, the dead prefer other dead for their playmates."

Robin scowled, "TT Harold, you could've had a good home with me, but as you have made your choice I will respect that."

Batman looked relieved.

"Yeah, no. I'm not calling him Harold."

"I like the name, it suits him," Zatanna said.

Hood absently scratched Harold's head, causing the little ghost to purr happily. "I'm gonna call him Vanilla."

Zatanna held in a snort, using all her willpower not to start humming a certain song.

"It's probably for the best I take him anyway, he should probably be under observation since he's just so weird."

"Keep me updated?" Zatanna asked.

"Yeah, sure. I'll drop updates in the server." Hood waved her off as he picked up his helmet and put it back on. "C'mon, Vanilla, you're gonna love the zeta tube." He wasn't, Hood was going to have a heck of a time getting the little ghost go through with him.

Zatanna turned to Diana, "Since I'm here, how about lunch?"

"Lunch sounds lovely," Diana answered.

- - -

Later Zatanna was checking the JLD discord server to see what the others were up to. Hood, of course, was keeping everyone updated.

Red Hood: Why is a ghost falling asleep?

He had attached a short video that was indeed Vanilla nodding off. The little ghost's head kept drooping before he caught himself and blearily blinked back awake, for some reason all this while holding a honey mustard squeeze bottle. The video ended when his jaw unhinged like a snake for a toothy yawn.

Red Hood: Sleepy little guy.

He'd attached a selfie of himself lounging on a couch with Vanilla snuggled up to his mustard bottle asleep on Hood's chest.

Red Hood: aewrsdtgyu

The next picture was Hood in pretty much the same position, only now there was a very alive looking teenaged boy with pale skin and messy black hair still clutching the mustard bottle curled up on Hood's chest.

Red Hood: He has a pulse?!?! WW: Congratulations on your first adoption. If he has blue eyes you're even keeping on theme. Red Hood: Fuck you, I'm not adopting him!!!! WW: How disappointing, I expected you to take responsibility for your own consequences. Zatanna: You already gave him a name. Red Hood: So did the demon brat. I'm gonna go throw him at bruce before he wakes up. Zatanna: Good luck! WW: Tell us more of your new son when he wakes. Jason Blood: What's this about adopting? Jason Blood: Oh, what a little cutie. You can be undead father and son. Red Hood: Fuck all of you.

Zatanna smiled to herself, Hood was definitely keeping the boy. She needed to get him a gift of some kind, something to welcome the newest member of the bat-clan. And also an excuse to get close enough to look the boy over again, she was sure he'd give the most interesting results.

[blanchetteminxia]

sae itoshi considered himself a man of refined tastes. he appreciated precision, dedication, and a certain... elegance. his girlfriend, was... nice. you were quiet, thoughtful, and possessed an uncanny ability to find the least crowded café in any city. he liked that. it was... efficient.

he did not, however, expect to find your secret lair of internet weirdness.

it started innocently enough. you had left your laptop open on the coffee table. sae, being a responsible adult (and, let's be honest, slightly bored), figured he'd close it to save the battery. that's when he saw it: a browser tab titled "jujutsufanaticsunited.net."

intrigued (and slightly concerned), he clicked.

the page loaded, revealing a profile: "curseddreamer77." the profile picture was... a cursed energy swirl. okay. fine. people had hobbies.

then he saw the "works" section.

titles like "limitless attraction," "six eyes on me," and "the gojo paradox" stared back at him. sae's eyebrow twitched. he clicked on "the gojo paradox."

what followed was... an experience.

it was a story. a long one. about a powerful, enigmatic jujutsu sorcerer named satoru (who, sae was starting to suspect, bore a suspicious resemblance to a certain white-haired, annoyingly strong individual, only with more... angst and a penchant for dramatic monologues about the weight of his power). and you, or rather, "curseddreamer77," had written detailed accounts of “y/n’s”... romantic exploits.

with another sorcerer. who was definitely not sae.

"his blue eyes, pools of limitless power, met y/n's," sae read, his voice flat. "a silent understanding passed between them, a connection forged in the heat of battle."

he blinked. slowly.

“y/n” he muttered. he scrolled further. there was a lot of y/n. a lot.

"satoru's hand, crackling with cursed energy, reached for y/n's, their touch igniting a surge of forbidden power that threatened to unravel the very fabric of reality."

sae closed the laptop.

he needed a moment. several moments. possibly a very long nap.

he poured himself a glass of water, trying to process what he'd just read. his girlfriend. the quiet, unassuming woman who brought him perfectly brewed tea and never complained about his training schedule... was writing jujutsu kaisen smut.

and he was pretty sure you were channeling your... fantasies about the strongest sorcerer into this brooding "satoru" character, who was getting it on with someone named “y/n” in the world of curses or some weird shit like that.

he opened the laptop again. he couldn't help himself. he had to know more.

he spent the next hour reading your fanfiction. he learned things. things he never wanted to know. about himself. about gojo. about the creative depths of his seemingly normal girlfriend.

he discovered that "satoru" had a tragic backstory involving a lost technique, a powerful curse, and a tortured soul. he also discovered that "satoru" was apparently very good with his... "limitless power."

by the time he finished, sae was questioning everything.

his relationship. was this all a performance? were you secretly living out her jujutsu fantasies through him? was he just a quiet, convenient cover for her cursed desires? were you perhaps hoping he'd be more like gojo?

his sanity. was this normal? was this what people did in their free time? write elaborate jujutsu operas about depressed overpowered men who somehow have six eyes (he questions how on earth that can be attractive)?

he found you later that evening, curled up on the couch, reading something online that he suspects has something to do with the horrific situation he was in earlier.

he looked at her. really looked at her. the gentle smile, the soft and slightly damp hair, the quiet demeanor.

and then he remembered the vivid descriptions of "satoru’s" "cursed embrace" with y/n. the sheer power of it. the explicit details...

he shuddered.

he decided not to bring it up.

some things were better left unexplored. he'd stick to football. at least he understood the rules of that game. mostly.

a/n: I was laughing my ass off while writing this AHAHHAHAH god bless that sae's eyes

[ellieputellas]

⋆｡°✩ how i think barcelona femení would respond to “can i copy your homework”

just for fun so not completely accurate! don’t take it too seriously! lmk if u wanna see more cause i think i’ll make another set with the other players i missed! — masterlist

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141 and their s/o having auditory sensory issues

A/N: Just putting it out there that this isn't tied to any condition, just their fav lil human just being too overstimulated or under-stimulated when it comes sounds (this is also unserious and just me thinking of scenarios thats happened to close to my own experiences lol) Masterlist here!

Johnny, despite his playful disposition, is actually quite acutely aware of your mannerism and behaviors as you hang out with him and the rest of the guys.

Not in the way of being hyper-aware of it, just noticing how you've picked up on certain habits whenever he finds himself around you.

Just like how you're inseparable in wearing those bluetooth earphones he gave you for Christmas one time.

He notices that you have plugged them inside your ear holes so often that he wonders when you even charge them. He sees how you put them on instinctively whenever you two go out on one ear. He sees you plug it in deep whenever he's vacuuming around the house or when the neighbors are mowing their lawn. He sees you have them on when they get too rowdy while watching a game.

Point being-- you were never seen without it. Why?

One day, he casually brings this up with you while the other guys were out on an errand.

He loves watching you sway your hips to the beat of whatever song you're listening to-- but now he's just curious, interest piqued per se.

Before he let his thoughts spiral, he stood up from his chair by the kitchen nook and approached you with the intent of wrapping his arms around you and swaying to the beat of your rhythm.

"Bonnie," he kisses your temple, "wha'cha listenin' to?"

You giggle at the tickled feeling of his kiss and the way his arms slightly tickled your sides, all the while letting go of the pan for a moment to remove your earphones and let it hang around your neck.

"Just some Dennis Van Aarssen jazz music," you hum, "wanna listen to it too, bubs?"

He shook his head, instead letting his one hand wander to the ear piece you removed and fiddling with it before you plugged it back in once more.

"Just wonderin'..." he mutters, "why ya' got this on all this time? Did ya' love my christmas present that much?"

He tries to smooth it over with a joke when he felt you tense in his arms, but this made those thoughts he tried to push back in his mind resurface-- making him more concerned as to why you reacted like that.

Could it be your way of coping? Or dealing with some sort of stress the four of them can't see? Or a problem you haven't told them about and you're using it as a means to avoid it?

"Bonnie," he stops swaying with you and lets you turn to face him in his arms, and he could see that unsure look on your face, brows furrowed and lips being chewed on-- he knew he had to be concerned now.

"Bonnie, please." he tries a plea to make you open up. "You know you can tell me right?" He starts rubbing his hands up and down your forearms to both comfort you and silently urge you to talk to him.

This makes you breath out a shudder, hand going to your other ear to remove the ear piece that was still playing some music. With a tap, you paused it and finally look up at Johnny, face painted in concern with such gentle, reassuring eyes that you couldn't bear to hide it from him- or the rest of the guys- about why you did so.

You guessed he finally took notice of often you wore it, with or without them-- too many times that you figured that they charted it enough to become a cause of concern for them. It doesn't help the fact that you felt like you got caught red-handed and are now supposed to confess about something you weren't even quite sure of yourself.

So, you try to explain, despite how messy your thoughts and feelings are.

"I just," you fumble, "well, you know me, right? I like music-- just a whole wide variety of it and it just always help, i don't know, help with my moods?" You strung your sentence along, hoping it was coherent enough for Johnnny to understand, and once he nods- giving you the confidence to keep going- you continued.

"It just helps me with working, y'know? Keeps me motivated and focused and all that." You fingers start wringing themselves in sweat and nervousness. "I just-- I don't know specifically why, I guess? It kinda just occupies my mind? Sometimes helps with blocking out with some stuff too..."

Johnny nods in understanding, licking his dry lips before talking as he felt his throat run dry at the thought of your last words.

"So besides liking it," he starts slowly and he sees you nod in confirmation, "it... helps you with work, keeps you focused and finish, aye?"

You nod again.

"But," he dry gulps, "it's helping with blocking out stuff-- what are those stuff bonnie?"

You bit your lip, avoiding eye contact by burying your face in his chest and you can hear him coo, patting your head and wrapping his other arm- still around your waist- tighter.

"We can wait bonnie," he whispers with chin on your head, "but just know that we're always here for ya'."

"I know," your voice muffled in his chest and you feel it rumble in a chuckle.

"Ya' can take your time with it," he reassures you, hand going from your head to your back, rubbing it slowly. "no need ta' tell me now-- was just curious, y'know?"

You smiled onto his chest, and take a moment in his embrace-- to sort out your thoughts and feelings that you've been keeping under wraps from them.

"We're back!"

Your calming moment gets interrupted by the three arriving back just in time for lunch, storming their way to the front to kitchen to greet you two in excitement yet that gets halted as they see you in the position you were both in.

"Darlin'," John immediately puts down his stuff and goes to approach both of you, eyeing Johnny who just shakes his head as he tries to search a response from him.

"What's going on?"

You feel another hand on your back, and you turn to face him to reply-- "just talkin'."

John takes note of how your eyes looked more dimmed than usual, and was about to ask again until Simon came in with a scoff.

"Cut the bull luv," Simon crosses his arms, "we all can tell somethings wrong."

You sigh back into Johnny's chest, a bit irritated at how quickly Simon picks up on things. Johnny glares at the brit who just raised an unimpressed brow at him, as if telling him to be a bit more gentler with his approach. Simon just shrugs, standing on his point as he juts his head to the side, signaling that they should take the conversation somewhere else.

Johnny rolls his head but nods anyways at the silent conversation they had. Kyle, seeing the exchange, picks up on and vocally propose to postpone lunch to chat for a bit.

All of you nod and transfer over to the living room, where you were quite practically made to sit in front of all four of them-- well, make that three while Kyle sits besides you, holding your hand in his as he absentmindedly traces shapes on it.

"So," John starts and directs it to you, "what's goin' on?"

You hum, unable to make eye contact with any of them as you try to clear your mind by fiddling with Kyle's fingers.

"It's with those earphones bonnie wears all the time," Johnny starts for you after some silence on your end, "just asked 'em about it and found out the reason why it plugged in their ears so much."

"Was he talking to you Johnny?" Simon grumbled into his ear, grabbing onto said man's neck to pull him up to his mouth and Johnny feels a shiver go down his spine as he replies a soft, "no."

"Then let her talk."

John agrees and this time, urges you to make eye contact with him by tipping your chin upwards to his gaze, to which was now eye-leveled with you as he sat crouched on the coffee table.

"You can tell us anythin' darlin'," he reassures, "you know we just wanna help you, right?"

You nod in response and finally got the momentum to talk-- to admit it.

"I told Johnny that it helps with blocking out some stuff," you explained softly, "those stuff being my thoughts that are like distracting sometimes or like, when my surroundings gets too loud and it feels like too many stuff is going on inside my head in one moment."

Once you see John and the others nod, you guessed they wanted to know more and let you continue first.

"It..." you gulp, "also makes me feel, I don't know, less perceptive of my surroundings? It feels like I take in too much and having something playing in ears and blocking out all that just helps with limiting that." You cringed at your explanation. "Like sometimes, I don't mind the noise but sometimes it also just-- gets too much, and I just found that by using these earphones are my way of coping about it."

You gripped onto the cord earphones, as you felt stifled by the fact you were relying on something so much to get by your day. To you, its frustrating-- having to rely on something just to "normally" go about your day, and without it, it feels near impossible.

You then felt a hand lay on top of yours, the one that was tightly gripping the cord so much so that your fists had gone white. You lifted up your head to Simon kneeling besides you, unfurling your hand gently before intertwining it with his, and you could feel yourself relax more significantly than before.

The tension of expressing all that tightening your body and with Simon's simple gestures, he released all of that.

"So you get overstimulated by noise?" Kyle asks besides you and you shrug.

"I guess? If there was one way to put it-- then, yeah."

"We're sorry we didn't notice it sooner darlin'," John apologizes for everyone, "you know we could have helped you with that, right?"

You nod hesistantly, "I do... its just I think its silly."

"I don't think its silly," Johnny mutters, "I think its something we should try and address, really."

You stare at him, shocked for a moment.

"Its a problem you're facing luv, then we'll definitely take it seriously." Simon brings your attention back to him by placing his hand on our cheek and gently turning it to his direction. "Got that?"

You nodded more confidently this time.

"Need a verbal confirmation from you, luv."

You let out shaky smile, whispering a small--"yeah, got it."

The boys feel a bit heartbroken at your problem, seeing how much its affected you and how blind they've been to reacting to it. They feel partially responsible, knowing that they were sometimes the cause of that "noise" you want to block out, knowing they weren't the quite the silent type whenever they stay at home with you. From loudly talking during meals to cheering and jeering at their sports teams to just obnoxiously doing chores around-- they felt awful. Just picturing you looking at those earphones for comfort, and feeling to burdened to tell them about it so you try dealing it with your own.

And you did. Only because it was weird- to you- to ask someone to lower their voices when it came to talking in their own home. If they couldn't be comfortable in their own home, their safe space, then where else would they?

It was quite a conundrum you were stuck so long on that relying on those earphone was the best way to deal with it-- for the moment. Until you figured out a way to tell them.

Which eventually arrived you to this moment-- explaining all of this to them like an embarrassing story of pissing your own pants like a little kid.

"Darlin'," John starts with a heavy breath, "you know its not a hard ask right? We're your partners-- we're supposed to care for each other."

"I do too," you mumble, "that's why it felt weird to ask of you guys to adjust for me when you're already doing so much."

Their eyes soften at this confession.

"And we'll do more," Kyle states, "if its for you, I don't mind doing the little things you ask of us, sweetheart."

The others agree and you pout.

"I can't do that."

"Then we'll do it for you whether you say so or not." Simon decides for you, wiping the unshed tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. "I can tell, don't worry luv."

You roll your eyes at the exuding confidence of Simon's ability to read people and you hear him chuckle at your reaction, feeling him pinch your cheeks too in retaliation.

"Brat," he teases, "I'll let you off this time."

You then feel his touch let go from yours and somehow, find yourself in the arms of John who was gazing at you with such empathetic eyes that you feel bad for feeling like this.

But that thought was immediately removed from your head with a poke at the side from Kyle, "none of that sweets," he says with a cheeky grin.

John supports by adding onto it, "don't overthink 'bout it darlin'." He presses his forehead against your pounding one, but soon tides over as you find yourself matching your breath and pace with his.

"We promised to take care of you and we'll do that, okay?" He looks for your confirmation and you mutter a small, "yeah" in response.

"Just gotta tell us sweets," Kyle approaches from behind and wraps you in a hug as well. "don't feel like you gotta rely on somethin' else to make it through yourself."

"Let's take baby steps, a'ight?" Johnny huffs with a smile on his face, jumping in the hug as well. "we can work through it together, right LT?"

With his insinuation, Simon rolls his eyes and joins the hug as well with you in the middle.

"Together," Simon promises snarkily, tightly wrapping his arms around everybody only for you all to loudly complain and dissipate from the short-lived group hug.

Simon lifted his hands up in mock surrender while you pointed a glare at him.

"Just sayin'," he puts it other there, "you can just tell us to shut up and we wouldn't mind."

The guys stifle a laugh at how the picture of you doing that to them looked like in their heads-- and they just can't imagine you, of all people, doing that.

If you could, you would have already slapped the smirk of this man's face but you just poked your tongue at him instead.

"I could never do something that mean," you sneer, "unlike you."

This makes them crack-up again, and this time-- it makes you smile too, and Kyle catches it. Quickly pointing it for the others to do the same with only John standing back and observing all of his partners playfully get along once more.

He's happy that they finally got you to tell them of that lingering problem that on the back on everyone's mind but, tackling it was a different story. A bit of a tricky situation that comes with much planning and adjustments on all sides-- which all of you were willing to work on.

But as long as it made sure that you were happy, loved, and care for-- they were willing to spend game nights lowly cussing at each other and sending silent death glares.

Maybe it might be even more fun for them that way.

A/N: a bit of a half assed ending ngl, i feel like makin a part 2 to this before it this one gets too long and flesh it out a bit better ksahdkjsfakhhsa (but we'll see where this goes)

[aventurineswife]

I thought a small and silly thing near the beginning of the Wardance where Reader visits a tavern to try some new drinks and they get so drunk they start blabbing to the barkeep and gushing about Dan Heng and how cute he is and how much they love him, not realizing the barkeep swapped places with Feixiao so the barkeep can serve customers while Feixiao entertains the new guest and tries to learn more about the Astral Express and their involvement in the Stellaron Crisis; and Feixiao could have just gotten up and walked away when it was clear Reader wouldn’t stop talking nonsense, but she was too entertained about the personal chatter and the photos Reader shows on their phone.

Dan Heng focusing on his work in the archives while drinking Himeko’s coffee.

Dan Heng and the Rice Dumpling cat cake from Herta Space Station.

Dan Heng drinking mung bean soda.

Dan Heng rambling about random trivia.

Dan Heng in the Underground’s arena as Cold Dragon Young.

Dan Heng beating March at chess.

Dan Heng helping Himeko with cooking.

Dan Heng hugging his tail in his sleep.

Which ends up changing the meeting at the Seat of Divine Foresight where instead of referring to Dan Heng as Dan Feng/Imbibitor Lunae’s reincarnation, she calls him “Reader’s partner~!” She’s professional enough to avoid bringing up personal relationships and doesn’t outright call him Reader’s boyfriend, but her tone very much heavily implies what she thinks of the two.

Except Dan Heng and Reader are not in a relationship.

Dan Heng: “We’re…we’re not in a relationship?”

Feixiao: *surprised Pikachu face* 😀 “???????????? You’re not?”

Jiaoqiu: 🥴 *trying his hardest not to laugh*

“You Got It Bad”

Summary: During the Wardance festival, you visit a tavern to enjoy the festivities and try some new drinks. In a tipsy state, you can't help but gush about how cute and perfect Dan Heng is, sharing personal anecdotes and photos with the barkeep. Unbeknownst to you, the barkeep is actually Feixiao, the formidable General of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, who is thoroughly entertained by your rambling. Things take a hilarious turn when Feixiao refers to Dan Heng as your "partner" in a formal meeting, leaving him confused and embarrassed. Chaos and misunderstandings ensue, as you remain blissfully unaware of the situation you’ve created.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Crackfic, Fluff, Humor, Misunderstandings, Drunken Confessions, Feixiao, Jiaoqiu.

Warnings: Drinking, Light-hearted confusion, Embarrassment, Miscommunication, Humor.

A/N: the ending was rushed 😔🧍‍♀️

It was the beginning of the Wardance festival, and you were determined to enjoy it to the fullest. The lively music, the clink of glasses, and the warm, bustling tavern—it was the perfect setting to sample some new drinks. You had been to a few festivals before, but this one was different. Maybe it was the buzz of excitement in the air or the anticipation of something new, but tonight, you were feeling bold.

You ordered the most exotic drink on the menu and took a large gulp, feeling the fire spread down your throat. With a slightly tipsy grin, you leaned forward on the bar counter, intent on chatting up the barkeep.

"Hey," you slurred slightly, eyes glimmering with the excitement of having a captive audience, "you know who's cute? Dan Heng." You giggled, hardly able to keep your thoughts straight. "I mean, have you seen him? He's like... this serious, mysterious guy, but also—like, he's totally adorable. So cute. And his hair? Like, wow, I wanna run my fingers through it... So soft, you know?"

The barkeep—who had been listening with a polite smile—raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. But little did you know, they weren't just any regular bartender. No, this was none other than Feixiao, the renowned "Vanquishing General" of the Xianzhou Yaoqing. She had decided to step in and serve customers while the regular barkeep was taking a break.

Feixiao grinned to herself. This was more entertaining than she’d expected. She could hear the tipsiness in your voice, and your ramblings about Dan Heng were making her chuckle.

"You really like him, huh?" Feixiao teased, leaning in slightly as she wiped down the counter, playing along. "What else do you think is cute about him?"

You leaned in, all too eager to share. "Okay, okay. He’s not just cute, he’s like, so smart and mysterious, but so relatable. I once saw him reading in the archives and, like... He was holding a cup of coffee... and just looking so serious but so—like, can you imagine him as a total intellectual? And he looks like he needs a hug. Like, I just wanna hug him, y'know?"

Feixiao's grin grew wider. Oh, this was too good. She was getting a good laugh, and the more you rambled, the more intrigued she became. She had seen a bit of this Dan Heng before—always distant, stoic, and silent—but hearing you gush about him was, in a weird way, entertaining.

"And, okay," you added, pulling out your phone like it was the most important thing in the world. "I’ve got photos, too! Like, look at this one." You showed her a picture of Dan Heng drinking mung bean soda, his usual serious expression frozen on his face, utterly unaware of how cute the moment was. "I mean, come on—he’s drinking mung bean soda and looks like a lost puppy in this one. How is that not cute?"

Feixiao tried not to burst into laughter. Mung bean soda? What a chaotic thing to find cute, but she couldn’t deny, it was the kind of thing that made her think more fondly of Dan Heng as well. But the fun didn’t stop there.

You continued, showing off a series of photos: Dan Heng playing chess with March (and winning, of course), Dan Heng holding a rice dumpling cat cake from Herta Space Station with that same deadpan expression—which you claimed was the absolute best part of his personality—and a picture of him cooking with Himeko.

"You just... you don’t understand," you said, leaning in conspiratorially. "One time I caught him sleeping. And guess what? He was hugging his tail like it was a pillow, and I... I lost it. It was so adorable! You can’t tell me that's not the cutest thing you've ever seen. He's just... so precious. I wanna protect him from the world!"

Feixiao raised her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, you’re right. He sounds super cute. But do you know what this means?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity.

"What?" you asked, tilting your head.

"You’ve got it bad. The way you talk about him," she teased, "there’s no denying it."

You blinked, confused but still buzzing with excitement. "Wait—what?"

"Nothing," Feixiao said, winking at you. "I think I get it now."

The night went on, and you continued to drink, losing track of time and how much you were saying. Feixiao, however, was thoroughly entertained. As you continued gushing about Dan Heng's adorable quirks, her mind wandered. It was clear you had no idea who she actually was, let alone that she knew exactly who Dan Heng was, in a much more... professional capacity. She’d been briefed on the crew of the Astral Express, of course. Still, it was fascinating to hear all these little personal anecdotes—little tidbits you thought were funny or cute about him.

It wasn’t long before Feixiao, ever the professional, decided to move things along. She was scheduled to attend an important meeting at the Seat of Divine Foresight, and your tipsy chatter had to end sometime. As she entered the meeting, where Dan Heng was already seated, she turned toward him with a smirk.

"So, [Name]'s partner~!" Feixiao greeted him, voice dripping with mischief. "How lovely to finally meet you in a more formal setting."

Dan Heng froze, blinking in confusion. "Partner?" He glanced at you, whose face was flushed from your continued drinking, and then back at Feixiao, utterly perplexed. "We’re... we’re not in a relationship?"

Feixiao, though mostly composed, couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. "You’re not?"

The entire room stared. Dan Heng’s brows furrowed, his expression as cold as ever, but there was a faint hint of embarrassment on his face. You, completely unaware, blinked and giggled to yourself, feeling the alcohol still swimming in your veins.

"I... I never said anything about being in a relationship..." Dan Heng muttered, his tone carrying a rare hint of confusion.

Feixiao shot a look at you, and though she was composed, she couldn't help but grin. "Well, someone's in denial, huh?"

Jiaoqiu, who had been observing the scene, nearly choked on his drink, struggling to contain his laughter. It was hard to remember a time when he was this entertained by anything. Feixiao’s ability to bluff her way through this situation was almost as amusing as the fact that Dan Heng had been completely oblivious to the entire conversation that led to this misunderstanding.

"Let’s just say," Jiaoqiu whispered to Feixiao, "this might be a little more complicated than it seems."

Feixiao simply shrugged, a mischievous smile still on her lips. "Well, I’ll let them figure that out later. For now, I think the real mystery is what else [Name] might have said about him after a few more drinks."

Dan Heng could only sigh, his face burning red for reasons he’d never truly be able to explain.

As for you? Well, you were blissfully unaware, still dreaming of your "partner," sipping your drink, and awaiting the next opportunity to gush over the serious, adorable, and utterly oblivious Dan Heng.

[fic-dumpster]

Do yall think that someone in tr worked as a delivery driver? Like idk mitsuya? the haitani’s!!! Going around town with their bikes delivering food and stuff? And they had the worst reviews.

User1974 said: my food came half eaten and the short one asked to use the bathroom and took my decorative soaps.

Usercatsrock said: they threw my Big Mac against the door! [ring doorbell video attached] they didn’t even stop! Just zoomed pass and launched it!

one day they noticed someone ordering the same meal every day and it seemed to be an easy job. They took that delivery. Once you opened your door that was it. Both got instantly flabbergasted by your pretty face.

“Do you really need two people to deliver orange chicken?” Your question came a bit harsh, but with reason. You had opened the door and tried to get your food order but the two guys stood frozen in your entrance. It was weirding you out. “Hello?”

“Dumbass, give her the paper bag,” Ran snapped out first and quickly pushed his brother closer to your extended hand.

Rindou flustered by his brother’s reaction just handed you the bag, cursing under his breath.

“You’re welc—“

You slammed the door in that moment. The pair just gave you a really bad vibe. besides you were hungry and they had been late by an hour.

“She’s gonna order the same tomorrow,” Rindou told Ran, both still staring at the door.

“Yeah.”

“We’re coming back, right?”

“Of course,” Ran replied with a plan already forming in his head.

As they walked back to their bike, Rindou offered some candies to Ran which he accepted without looking. Soon a bitter and metallic flavor assaulted his mouth.

“Rindou, what the fuck?!?!” Ran angrily spit out the colorful bead, “that’s soap!!!”

[almostempty]

Cargo

(joel x f!reader, din x f!reader, frankie x f!reader) | wc: 4.9k | other fics | Ao3

summary: smuggler!joel finds you and brings you to his partner in crime, with a side of gratuitous smut and a special guest along the way (full spoiler summary under the warnings/tags) 

note: this is for my lovely @auterdelabre, and it was inspired by the line you wrote when i joked about joel using “cargo” as a pet name (and a couple other things i had to mix in there) 

extra note: i hope this can bring a lil distraction in light of the heavy reality of today, fuck fascists – just don’t fuck them

warnings/tags: mdni explicit, smut, smuggler!joel, dubcon, oral, piv, degradation, ‘whore’ and one (1) ‘slut’, truly pwp - like the plot is just p, pls let me know if i missed anything important, weds warnings: doin’ it/fillin’ it up unprotected with no consequences bc it’s fiction and in the words of Wu-Tang Clan’s Ol’ Dirty Bastard in Shimmy Shimmy Ya - Ooooh, Baby, I like it raw; f!reader is able-bodied–this time this bish has hair that joel can worm his fingers into, no y/n, likely many mistakes bc i yam who i yam 

FULL SPOILER SUMMARY: crackfic crossover: au star wars smuggler!joel finds you and y’all fuck, he brings you to his partner dark!din and y’all fuck, but surprise! smuggler!joel and dark!din were your co-stars for your independent porn. your bf, Frankie (who played the Mandalorian), is just so turned on watching you edit the video that…you guessed it! y’all fuck) 

The clear water rushes downstream, rippling around your legs as you step toward the bank and the soft grass. The sunlight filtering through the forest canopy makes the surface of the stream sparkle like glitter. But, you. You are the star of the scene. 

You glow like you’re a creature drawn from the sun and the soil, from the woods and the water. Crystal-clear droplets of water race along your skin, rolling over your curves and dripping back into the current to flow down, down, down to another body of water. 

You appear meditative, attuned to nature's tranquility, disregarding the universe's relentlessly unjust chaos. The ugliness and the violence. The balance. The dark. 

Joel lurks in the trees, waiting to make his presence known. Holding out for an opportunity to strike. He creeps out of the treeline with deft precision, like a shadow. You’re only partially dressed, still bent over your bag, searching for something when he gets close.  

“Don’t think you’ll need to worry about that anymore.” 

He’s not loud, but his gruff voice still disturbs the serenity. A jarring interruption to the leaves rustling in the breeze and the birdsongs echoing above. You take one long breath before you look him in the eye. Dropping your bag, you raise your hands in surrender. 

You have nothing. No weapons, no defense, no chance of getting far if he’s tracked you down already. “How did you find me?” You square your shoulders, standing your ground despite your disadvantaged position. 

“It’s my job,” he replies simply. 

He circles around you slowly, appraising you, eyes roaming over your exposed skin. Your tight shorts and thin undershirt don’t leave much for him to imagine, but you refuse to shrink or hide. You assess him yourself, and realization spreads across your face. You mutter his name aloud. Joel. 

He pauses just behind you and hooks a finger under the thin strap along your shoulder, teasing down the skin before snapping it like a rubber band. You stifle a wince. Just because he has you alone and barely dressed in the wilderness doesn’t mean you intend to give easily. You keep your chin raised in a proudly defiant stance. 

Joel chuckles dangerously at you, stepping closer. He rests his large palms atop your shoulders. It would be a sweet portrait of the two of you if it weren’t for the reality of the circumstance. Instead, his body is oppressive, so broad compared to you that it’s like you’re caged in, locked in a gravitational pull towards him, despite being in the open air. 

Your distaste for his presence has your body rigid and tense. You’re holding your breath as he leers at your body over your shoulder. His fingers dig into the flesh over the ridge of your clavicle like the claws of a predator ready to fly you away or tear you apart. 

“Are you going to come along willingly now?” he asks. The bass of his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite his furnace of a chest radiating into your back. The question hangs ominously between you. The or left unsaid. 

You swallow slowly, muttering an agreement and turning so you’re face to face. Your eyes dart across his features, and it’s strangely intimate. Something heavy in the closeness of your mouths, the shared breaths you take. His humanity is so apparent. You could reach out to trace every line of his face, but his stoic expression morphs into something sinister.

“That’s too bad,” he tuts, disappointed, “I was hoping you’d put up a fight.” 

You scowl, shifting your weight to lean away from him. He laughs harshly at your response. It’s a grating, barking sound, baring his teeth. 

You’re still thinking about what he was hoping for as he binds your wrists together, but he’s not revealing anything else. He grabs your upper arm and begins leading you toward the dense trees. You stumble, adjusting to his pace and trying to find your stride. 

“Where are you taking me?” you complain, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but he’s latched on tight. He’s unfazed by your attempt to break away from him as if it’s a natural part of his day-to-day to wrestle with an unwilling companion. 

It’s an exertion to keep up with him; he moves with purpose and little regard for you. Unaware of the small branches and shoots of new growth in the forest whip at your face, arms, and ankles. Uncaring that they obstruct your vision as you let him lead. 

You take his strength, size, and foul-tempered look apparent from his profile. You follow half a step behind, visibly less enthused about his single-minded pursuit. 

“Not far.” He’s blunt. Unhelpful. Answering you without a glance in your direction. 

“What do you want with me?”

“That’s not my decision,” he shrugs as if he isn’t talking about what happens to your life. Not wasting a word to ease your panic. 

“Who sent you?” Fear cracks through your voice. Ugly and raw. 

“Don’t know.” 

He’s so short with you. Brutish and rushed. Trudging along indifferent to your world crashing down. 

“You don’t know?” There’s an edge to your tone, frustration apparent. Joel shoots you a scathing look. He has a handsome face, but his dark eyes show no kindness. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He turns away, looking forward as you make your way along. 

He moves confidently, like a force of nature. Twigs snap under his boots as he creates his path without regard for the destruction. 

“Then what’s in it for you? Why not just let me go?” You press sulkily. 

“I get paid for delivering you, not making decisions, sweet thing.” 

His response is gross and detached. Sweet thing. The pet name drips with sarcasm. You’re just an object. You scoff at him. 

“You’re despicable,” you cut under your breath as you weave through the underbrush. Disgust warps your features as you make your way along.

“Watch it,” Joel snaps. A low tolerance threshold. Fitting for a surly smuggler. 

“It’s true,” you snap right back. He doesn’t take it lightly, stopping and yanking you around roughly so you’re facing him again. 

“You’re heartless,” you jab, “scum. You don’t care about anything but your own profit.” 

Fed up, he backs you into the nearest tree. The bark digs into your shoulder blades. His hand grips your throat menacingly. His face is so close to yours. The deep line between his brows, the depth of his dark eyes, and his plush lower lips are all you can see. 

“Keep it up,” he goads. His fingers are merely a threat, resting along your arteries. Tempting you to talk back. “We both know you aren’t innocent,” he adds. 

You snarl at that, arguing that he doesn’t know the first thing about you, but he only grins darkly. 

Joel enjoys the way you detest him. He also enjoys the sight of you pinned under his hand. The way it only takes one to have you helplessly trapped. You’re still muttering insults at him, but he’s ignoring your words. He’s too interested in the arch in your spine tilting you towards him. The rising and falling as your breath is shallow and quick. 

Your thin top is still damp from your dip in the water, and from his point of view, it’s a scene that deserves to be photographed. You seem so delicate in contrast to him. His wide palm covering your throat, his vascular forearm so masculine against your supple skin. You look at him through your lashes, your eyes narrow and scornful, but his eyes trail down as your voice trails off. 

Joel has a perfect view of your hard nipples under the thin material of your shirt. The fabric clings to you like you’re in a wet t-shirt contest, and the longer he stares, the more he starts to lose his sense of urgency in taking you anywhere.

“What?” you interrupt his ogling, forcing your features into a disapproving glower to overcompensate for the breathlessness. 

He’s amused by your contempt and disobedience. He can tell there’s a struggle forming beneath the surface. The twitch between your brows where they threaten to saddle in pleasure if he applies the right pressure. The lust flickering behind your eyes. The disdain tugging at the corners of your frown only makes his blood run hotter. 

“You think you’re better than me,” His voice drops, sinfully low. You stare blankly, not arguing. “You think you’re special,” he continues cruelly. 

“You aren’t.” His fingers squeeze along just the sides of your neck; playing god with you, he restricts the blood pumping through your arteries. “No, sweet thing, you’re just another runaway whore with a bad attitude. That sure as hell doesn’t make you special.”

“I’m not a whore.” You spit his words back in his face. 

“No?” He mocks, tilting his head and dragging his eyes over your frame. His lecherous gaze highlights your compromising position. You’re on display for him, at his mercy, alone. It all comes into focus as your throat runs dry. “Could’ve fooled me.” He lifts the pressure off your neck, and the blood rushes to your head. 

Your gasp switches into a tight frown. His cocky smirk only widens. 

“Argue all you want, but your body doesn’t lie,” he coos arrogantly. 

“Can feel your pulse beating faster,” his fingers massage deliberately at your neck. You steel your breathing, eyes searching for something on his face to focus on. Something to ground you. But he leans in close, his breath hot along your ear. “So desperate,” he inhales deeply like he’s cataloging your scent, “just for me?” 

His other hand traces the angle of your jaw. 

“Maybe that’s just a human response to being pinned to a tree in the middle of nowhere by a smuggler,” you hiss. 

“Maybe.” He releases you, and you stagger forward at the sudden loss of support. Losing your balance and unable to steady yourself with your hands bound, you’re toppling forward to your knees as Joel half catches you—stopping you from landing with your face in the dirt. 

He shakes his head at you in disbelief. Every time you move, you pose just to tempt him. Here you are on your knees, glowing in the soft light as you tilt your face up at him. The fear that flitters over your face twists into something else. Something that makes you both pause. 

Joel moves first, resting a hand on your cheek. Reflexively, your lips part, and he can’t stop slipping his thumb into your mouth. You try to recalibrate, reversing the involuntary responses, but he’s already seen them. The way your breath hitched and the way your eyes darkened. 

He raises a brow slightly, entertained by how easy it is to read the signs. “It’s too late to hide it.” He pulls his thumb back, dragging it slowly over your bottom lip and down to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva that catches the light and glistens. “You think I can’t see how bad you want it?” 

You shake your head lightly in defiance, murmuring that he’s wrong and dropping your gaze. You’re sat at eye level with his belt and his one hand with the thumb hooked on a belt loop. You study every ridge of his hand, the scars along his knuckles, the sun-tanned brown skin. 

The bulge highlighted by his fitted jeans catches your attention, and you look back up to meet his eyes.  

Joel slips his hand past your face, fingers weaving into your hair, cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t add much pressure, and you don’t have to lean far to rest your cheek along the worn denim on his upper thigh. 

“Yeah,” he growls above you, “take it out.” 

You move hurriedly, dissolving your denial. It’s easy work to unbuckle his belt and pop open the button of his jeans, even with your wrists bound. You wet your lips unconsciously as you tug the band of his boxers down until his cock springs free. Only half-hard, it hangs imposing and proud. So close to your face, you can see the tiniest twitch as he responds to your warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Get to it,” he orders. 

You blink up at him, resistance fading on the tip of your tongue. “Or get up so we can get a move on; doesn’t matter to me.” he challenges. You curl your fingers around the base of his shaft. It’s smooth and hot under your fingertips. Experimentally, you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers tighten their grip in your hair. 

You open wide, laying your tongue out flat, and he guides you. Joel’s eyes are glued to your mouth as he slides his cock past your lips. You stare back, studying every expression that crosses his face. His hard eyes don’t soften, but you could swear his blinking slows. The hint of a snarl deepens as he picks up the pace. 

Using you. Fucking your wet mouth until he’s pressing into the back of your throat, seeking more. 

Your eyes tear up, but he doesn’t stop, and you don’t resist. 

You quickly acclimate, working in rhythm, breathing, taking it all. When your eyelids flutter shut and a moan buzzes in your throat, Joel laughs darkly. “If you aren’t a whore,” he pauses to make a throaty noise that spears right to your core, “why do you take my cock down your throat just like one?” 

You choke at his assertion, and he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. 

“Not a very good one, I guess,” he says flatly, yet with a particularly pleased expression still faintly etched in the lines of his face. You wipe the spit coating your chin onto the back of your hands. 

He doesn’t reach for you again; instead, he takes his cock in his own hand. Impatient. Slick with your saliva, he strokes himself lewdly, grunting with pleasure as he flicks his wrist. 

“You’re deranged,” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

He doesn’t like that. He moves without a word, shoving you forward onto your elbows and knees. He holds you down against the soft grass with one hand as the other crudely pulls your shorts down. He runs his palm along the curve of your spine, over the contour of your ass. Both hands grip the back of your knees, readjusting you to his liking. 

Then he takes his time. 

Kneading your ass and thighs, landing one firm smack on that has you jolting forward, cheek pressing flat into the grass. The sharp sensation disorients you and leaves you sucking in air. 

Joel is undisturbed by your reactions. He takes both of his thumbs to spread you open wider, revealing the glossy sheen of your core. Your cunt drips, slick and swollen for him. 

“You think I’m so despicable,” his gravelly voice makes your mind fuzzy, “how come you’re so fuckin’ wet for me?” 

You can only manage to whine into the ground, pushing back towards him. “You don’t move,” he says harshly, one wide palm gripping your hip to hold you still. When the blunt head of his cock glides along your seam, you let out a broken moan. His fingers dig into your soft flesh in warning. 

He pauses, with his tip resting at the core of your throbbing pussy, to marvel at the visual before sinking into you. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. You don’t have time to adjust before he’s pulling back and slamming into you again. He drags against every nerve inside of you, intensifying every motion. 

Joel isn’t gentle. He holds you firmly and uses your body, fucking into you with rough thrusts that make your thighs tremble. “Take it,” he grunts, pounding into you deeply until his hips meet your bare thighs. 

It’s all wet noises, heaving breathing, and skin slapping against skin. He watches the plush curves of your ass ripple as he drives into you harder and faster. The force of his movement pulls sharp, ragged cries from you as he fucks you so hard it pushes the air out of your lungs. 

“This is all you get.” Joel groans behind you, curling over you with his broad frame. Your bodies are sweaty where your naked skin slips against each other, and you writhe against him, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as he fucks deeply into you. 

“You’re nothing to me,” he snarls, punctuated with his hips snapping into you brutally. “Just fuckin’ cargo.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, hips stuttering as you whimper. “You like that. Can feel you clenching around me,” he keeps talking. You’re mindless beneath him. A winded, drooling mess. “Ain’t even worth the hassle to deliver. Better use taking my cock,” he grunts, hips canting more erratically until he stills, pulsing inside of you with a throaty groan. 

You’re boneless, propped up on shaky knees as he pulls out and watches his come leak out of you for a moment. Then he’s crassly yanking your shorts up and ordering you to stand. You’re wobbly when you get back to your feet, and he huffs at you agitatedly. “Figure out how to walk, or I’ll drag your ass the rest of the way.” 

You can’t say how long it takes before you reach your destination. Everything was a blur as you clumsily trotted along, outpaced by Joel’s long stride. You’re breathing loudly through your mouth, a sheen of sweat between your shoulder blades and on your chest. Joel, apparently well-conditioned for the cardio, is frustratingly collected. He holds you tightly as he opens the door and pushes you inside. 

He jerks you towards a makeshift seat on a crate and raps a fist against the wall behind you. You can hear heavy footsteps. Joel ignores you as you try to read his expression. In seconds, the fully armored Mandalorian enters the room. 

He moves swiftly, barely glancing in your direction as Joel meets him on the far side of the room. 

“You were delayed,” the Mandalorian remarks in his modulated voice, his tone unrevealing. Joel steps in closer, muttering in a hushed tone that you can’t pick up. Something makes the Mandalorian laugh abrasively. His voice cracks through the air, fraught with a hazardous edge. 

You sit still, chest tight, as the helmet swivels towards you. Expressionless metal, he gives nothing away. Harsh lights beat down on your damp skin, making it hard to stay still. 

Joel is menacing, but this guy is impossible to read. The Mandalorian stalks towards you like a predator. 

Joel leaves the room, presumably off to shower, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks away. 

“Let’s see then,” the Mandalorian commands as he approaches. 

“See what?”

He pulls you to your feet, a gloved hand jerking your head side to side as he examines you. 

He steps forward, and you back away in synchronized steps until your heel hits something. The Mandalorian has you trapped between the cold wall and his cold metal armor. 

He removes the cuffs that bind your hands, tossing them aside, drawing a confused look from you. Instead, with one hand, he pins both your wrists above your head, causing your legs to spread instinctively. You squeeze your eyes shut as if you can control yourself without looking. 

“He said you’re not worth the fuel to return.” The Mandalorian gestures toward the direction Joel disappeared in with just a subtle tilt of his head. “That you’re a distraction and a whore.” 

“Then let me go.” 

“No.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say more. He watches you. He is still and statuesque, whereas you’re so human. In the thick air, your breathing sounds too loud. Your heart beats too violently. Your limbs tremble too weakly. You give away so much, just with your body, your face, your eyes. 

“What do you want with me?” 

“I ask the questions,” he negates coolly. 

He squeezes your jaw tightly, “Is it your mouth?” His fingers squish the insides of your cheeks against your teeth. 

“No…it can’t be this needy cunt, hmm?” 

You’re shuddering, soft, and pliant. Warm, flesh and blood. You can’t form a response for him, even when he releases your jaw. Your gape at him with wide eyes and wet lips. 

Then, unceremoniously, he’s shoving his hand into your leggings. Wedging his thick fingers between your slippery, swollen folds. He growls like an animal beneath the helmet.

“You’re soaked,” he says. “Getting fucked full of Joel’s cock wasn’t enough?” He pulls his hand out, letting the band of your leggings snap against your belly. You stare back. Your body trembles lightly, arms straining in his grip. 

“Answer me,” he orders quietly. 

It’s soft. Your throat is still hoarse. “No.” 

Then he’s groping at you with an intensity that makes you writhe against the cool steel wall. 

He pinches at your strained nipples, rolling them between his fingers and making you bite your own lip to distract from the twisted pain and pleasure he’s unleashing on you. You can’t keep back all the noises, though, and he pauses when you moan and arch into his hand. 

“You’re not a whore,” he decides and he wedges his thigh between your legs. You roll along the ridged plate of armor, needily grinding against him. 

Without warning, the Mandalorian tears your top off of your body like a starved animal. Primal and desperate, but with precision. A tremor runs through you at the exposure and ferocity, making you gasp. 

“No. You like this too much to be whore.” He drops your hands and they fly to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you across the room dropping you onto the bed. 

He pulls your leggings down, tossing them to the floor. You’re breathing so heavily, anticipating his next move. He pulls his cock out of his pants and you can’t take your eyes off of it. The only part of him exposed aside from his hand. The only glimpse of the true man beneath the metal. 

He taps his drooling head on your clit and you make a hungry sound, spreading your legs wide to make room for him. With a firm grip, he guides himself through your throbbing folds and into your hot, wet cunt. 

You groan as he meets the end of you. Your walls flutter around him as he splits you open, and then he starts to rock in and out and you keen. “Shut up,” he growls and covers your mouth with his palm. 

He saws into you relentlessly and you choke down your cries of pleasure. “Listen to how wet you are,” he mutters. “Such a filthy slut.” Your body jolts with every thrust, breasts bouncing and legs shaking as he keeps your mouth covered. 

“You think she can take us both?” 

You strain under the Mandalorian’s hand trying to turn your head and Joel moves in closer. 

“She’s just cargo,” Joel muses darkly, “she’ll take what we give.” 

…….

You pause the video on your laptop, freezing the scene just as it cuts back to your reaction to Joel. The fucked out smile in your eyes apparent, even with your mouth covered. 

You whip your head over to look at your boyfriend lounging next to you on the sofa. Your brow is furrowed critically, and he can see the wheels turning in your mind. His eyes, though, are clouded with lust. 

“Would’ve been better if we could’ve made a set that looked like the Razor Crest,” you grumble. You chew on your bottom lip as you consider the rest of your critique. 

“Do you think I should’ve kept in more of the dialogue between you and Joel? And the continuity with your gloves—do you really think it’s not that noticeable?” 

“Baby,” Frankie mutters in his thick, husky voice. “I don’t think anyone is worried about the plot or the fucking gloves.” 

You sigh deeply at that, returning to your video editing software with irritation. “You’re just saying that because you aren’t worried about those things,” you admonish him, continuing with your work. 

You play another clip of the scene that the two of you shot. Hearing your moaning and whimpering for him through the laptop speakers drives him fucking crazy. He’s pretty sure he could wear a banana suit and people would still happily pay to watch you get railed by him. 

“I’m not just saying that,” he argues, deciding to hold back on the banana comment. 

“Come here. It’s late, take a break.” He can practically hear your eyes roll as you ignore him and continue poring over details that only you would notice. He doesn’t have much patience left, already desperately turned on both from the video you made and from how sexy you look next to him. So focused. In your element. 

He lowers his voice into that rumbly, bassy register that he knows you can’t resist. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Your head swivels, and he gives you a dark glare with a gleam in his eye. He can see the feisty remark swirling on the tip of your tongue. “Come here,” he orders. 

You close the laptop, pushing it towards the middle of the coffee table. “Are you going to punish me?” you murmur, crawling onto his lap slowly. “I can get the helmet back out,” you joke with a playful smirk before you curl into him, pressing soft kisses along his warm neck. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, “I should punish you.” He grabs your hips, guiding you closer to where he wants you. You gasp at the same time as he groans when your core rubs against the long ridge of his erection. “You feel that?” he growls lowly. The friction and heat between you radiates up his spine and down to his toes. “You feel how hard you make me?” he asks. 

“Yes.” You grind against him. He feels huge through his soft sweats. You roll your hips, savoring the pressure of his hard cock teasing you. It sends sparks from your cunt to your nipples, lighting up your nerves. He slips one hand under the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing–his t-shirt– to palm your tits and pinch at your nipples as if he could read your mind or, rather, your body. 

“That’s how hard every jerkoff that watches us is gonna be.” 

His statement makes you giggle softly against his neck. “Yeah?” you ask breathily. 

“Yeah,” he confirms before capturing your lips with a hungry kiss that makes you moan into his mouth. You melt into each other on the sofa. Tongues sliding against each other, hips rocking against each other, and hearts beating against each other through your ribcages. 

He cradles you in his arms as he shifts. Releasing you once you’re flat beneath him on the sofa, “They’ll never know what it’s like to feel your sweet cunt come around their cock, though.” He says as he lifts your legs, sliding off your soaked panties before spreading you open. 

You can only hum in agreement, entranced by the sight of him pushing down his sweatpants. He’s lost in you. The desire in your eyes and the arousal shining on the folds of your core. You wrap your legs around him, hitching one knee up high to give him deeper access. 

“Please,” you groan. He teases you with the wide head of his cock, nudging at your clit as he coats himself in the fresh wave of slick flooding around him. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, fuck me. Now.” 

A warm puff of air comes out of his nose. Amused with your impatience. But when he starts to feed himself into you slowly, it’s no longer funny. He’s possessed by the same urgency. Gripped by the plush heat of your cunt as you stretch around him. When he’s fully seated, hips flush to your pelvis, his cock throbs inside of you, and you dig your fingernails into the musculature of his shoulders. Silently demanding more, so he moves. 

He fucks into you with a fervor made of possession and pride. Filling you so deeply that it’s like he’s connected to your soul, slotted perfectly into the heart of your cunt. Every ridge of him designed to caress every nerve inside of you. But beyond fitting together physically, he knows exactly what you want. 

He snaps his hips harder. Faster. With a force that makes your eyelids heavy and your head bob limply as he drives into you with such strength that it makes you mindless with pleasure. He gives and gives. And you take and take. You cry out his name when he finds the perfect angle to launch you into a euphoric orgasm. It’s not long before he’s coming, too, stuffing you full and deep as your walls constrict and contract around him. 

Time feels fuzzy as you lay together. Sticky but satisfied. His arm and leg thrown over you weigh heavily as he relaxes. He could drift off like this, and he’s about to say so when he catches that look on your face. You just figured something out. 

“What are you plotting?” he asks in a sleepy voice. 

“I’ve got an idea for our next video.” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you still have those zip ties?” 

pls let me know if enjoyed or hated any of it <3

Dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

ty: to @gothcsz for reminding me that pwp is pwp when i spent days getting hung up on some unnecessary details, and to @magneticecstasy for an idea that didn’t make it in, but will not leave my brain now 

gen tags for some babes: 

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy

[prokopetz]

It just occurred to me that, assuming Bram Stoker's Dracula takes place roughly in the year of its publication, John Harvey Kellogg is coicidentally about the same age as Abraham van Helsing, and now there's a crackfic I'm genuinely upset I'll never have time to write.

[fanlore-wiki]

Fanwork Friday: la petite mort (Barbie/Dracula story)

Described by the author as "a crackship taken VERY seriously", this Fanwork Friday we're reading la petite mort by howlingmoonrise (TheDarkStoryteller).

A Barbie/Dracula crossover fic, la petite mort is praised for keeping Barbie in character, while also making her human, and for having a suave, aristocrat Dracula.

Perhaps because of the unusual paring, or because of how iconic and well known theses characters are, the story has been highly recced, including by a youtuber, a high school English class, and a Reddit tattoo thread!

Have you read this story? Come help us expand its Fanlore page!

-----

We value every contribution to our shared fandom history. If you’re new to editing Fanlore or wikis in general, visit our New Visitor Portal to get started or ask us questions here!

[pininghermit]

Right Infront of My Salad?

Request: @dreamtogether2000 I was only doing it because I was curious but then I got Obsessed?! Please this with gn reader is everything I love! Go Buck Wild.

AN: First of all what a pick. Second of all, thank you for requesting this. I love writing crack fics especially this one was awesome. I hope you like it. We shall name this the Tropesvania Event- feel free to request

Genre: Fluff

Pairing(s): Adrian Tepes x GN Reader

Summary: Obsessed-gn-drabble

“They are, to put it mildly…” Lisa cringed, glancing into the camera, “obsessed with each other.”

“They’ve lost it. Whatever this is, it’s worse than anything unholy,” Dracula deadpanned, his tone dripping with the resignation of a centuries-old vampire.

Somehow, it had come to this: Dracula and Lisa, dragged onto Dr. Phil, seated stiffly next to their son, Adrian, and you. The root of the chaos.

Yet, the elephant in the room remained unaddressed. And riding triumphantly atop that elephant, entwined as if nothing else in the world existed, were Lisa and Dracula’s beloved son and you.

It had all started innocently enough, during the honeymoon phase of dating. At first, Lisa had found it endearing. Adrian gushing about you had been a breath of fresh air.

Every detail about your smile, your laugh, your favorite book had been recounted with an enthusiasm so pure it melted even Dracula’s icy heart.

Lisa had helped Adrian pick out the right outfits, thoughtful gifts, and conversation topics to avoid awkward silences. Dracula had joined in too, bemused by the adorable mess his son had become under the spell of young love.

Then, they met you.

From the moment of that first introduction, you had stormed into Castle Dracula like a burst of spring sunlight, your chaotic energy scattering the stoic gothic gloom.

Supper, once a quiet affair for three, transformed into a nightly event for four. The castle seemed warmer, brighter—alive. Though neither parent would admit it, there were moments they almost welcomed the change.

It was as if the wintery gloom of their home had been replace with fistfuls of spring shoved up ever nook of the castle.

But young love is nothing if not overwhelming.

Catching the two of you making out had been amusing at first, Dracula turning a delicate shade of crimson and retreating with an indignant swoosh of his cape.

But the charm wore thin quickly. After exactly twenty-three incidents of stumbling upon you in her lab, Lisa’s patience finally snapped.

And yet, here you were.

“I love you,” you giggled, nestled against Adrian, your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the firelight.

Across the room, Lisa and Dracula watched from the couch, their expressions somewhere between weariness and acceptance, as Adrian’s face lit up to match yours. “I love you more,” he replied earnestly, leaning in closer.

“Noooo,” you drawled, sticking your tongue out at him playfully. “I love you more.”

Adrian pressed a kiss to your cheek, his golden eyes brimming with adoration. “I love you more than anything.”

Lisa saw Dracula’s face turn a distinct shade of green. Whether it was from the sweetness of the hot chocolate or the relentless PDA, she couldn’t say.

The count excused himself abruptly, clearing his throat as both parents caught sight of Adrian’s hand slipping under the blanket.

A single day. Adrian had been gone for one day to retrieve an ancient tome.

It had been an ordeal pulling him away, his golden eyes darting anxiously between you and the door as he nodded solemnly to your endless instructions about his health. To Lisa’s surprise, you had smiled and sent him off with a merry wave.

It unsettled both parents when you slammed the door shut immediately afterward only for your composure to crumble into pieces.

“I miss him,” you whimpered, staring forlornly at the cracks in the stone floor. “However shall I endure this?” you sobbed, burying your face in your arms.

For hours, you parked yourself by the door, refusing to move, before embarking on a grieving tour of the castle. Every room bore witness to your dramatic laments as you sprawled across tables, sighed mournfully in hallways, and flopped listlessly onto chairs.

Lisa and Dracula followed at a safe distance, watching in silent horror. By the end of the day, Lisa questioned her son’s doting nature, and Dracula could only mutter, “I'm too old for this Lisa.”

When Adrian finally returned, all hell broke loose.

You bolted toward him the moment the doors opened, nearly tripping over the carpet in your haste to reach him. Lisa and Dracula stood frozen in place, watching the soap opera that Castle Dracula had somehow become unfold before their eyes.

But it wasn’t the excessively affectionate reunion that left them speechless. It wasn’t even your tearful declarations of love or Adrian’s matching intensity.

It was the bold black ink scrawled across Adrian’s arm.

Your name. Permanently tattooed, proud and unashamed.

The sight left the family in stunned silence, each member processing the revelation in their own way.

For Lisa, it was an emotional breakdown, complete with head-in-hands groaning. For Dracula, it was a mental and spiritual crisis, punctuated by a mumbled, “By all the dark powers… what has he done?”

Meanwhile, the happy couple remained blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling around them, lost in a world that consisted of only each other.

Castle Dracula would never be the same again.

[wordsarelife]

pairing: slytherin!group x fem!nott!reader, enzo berkshire x fem!nott!reader

summary: mattheo’s “protective charm” locks everyone out of their rooms, forcing them to spend the night in the common room. no wands, no teachers, and strange noises that send blaise and enzo into full panic mode. as paranoia grows, they’re left wondering if they’re really safe—or if something darker is lurking in the shadows.

warnings: cursing, a very bad scary story, haunted common room, slow burnnnn

note: finally episode two is here!! super excited to share this. enjoy these 4k words of my yapping lol!

“this is the worst day ever, seriously” blaise zabini said as he crossed his arms and let himself fall onto one of the big dark couches in the slytherin common room.

“come on, it’s not so bad” mattheo shrugged, trying to hide his smile.

“no, actually, he’s right” you gestured between your friends, all obviously annoyed, apart from (you guessed it) mattheo. “this is the worst day ever”

“some friends you are” mattheo mumbled under his breath, turning away and huffing about the situation.

“well, it’s your own fault” theo shrugged unbothered. “you had to come up with that stupid charm”

“excuse you?” mattheo bluffed, holding his heart like theo had hurt him deeply. “i was just trying to help”

“emphasis on trying” draco muttered, sorting through a chest of blankets which was standing against one wall of the common room. “that’ll do”

“i could conjure up a few sleeping bags or beds” mattheo suggested, raising his wand.

“no!” the slytherin screamed in unison and pansy ripped the wand from mattheo’s hand, before he was able to react.

“hey!” mattheo complained, but everyone just ignored him. “i was trying to do something nice for my friends. not a reason to be bitches about it.”

“say the word ‘bitch’ one more time and—“

before blaise could fulfill his threat, enzo came back into the room, just barely breathing.

“snape is already in his chambers— or whatever you call that”

“sleeping quarters?” you suggested and enzo pointed a finger at you, thankful for the help.

“well, that means we can’t do anything until tomorrow” draco concluded the obvious.

“shit” pansy muttered and all of you send similar hateful glances in mattheo’s direction.

“how are we going to explain it to him anyway?” you asked, while you helped your brother to unfold the couch to a bed. “hello professor snape, we are idiots and locked ourselves out of our rooms, could you help us get back in please?”

“no” blaise shook his head. “we’re going to say that mattheo is an idiot, he looked us out of our rooms and now he needs professor snape’s help to get back in.”

"again, i'd like to point out that the intention was to help you" mattheo declared dramatically. "but whatever, just sell me out like that i guess."

"great"

"works for me"

"sounds good"

your voices chorused through the room and mattheo pouted offended.

"okay, what way are we sleeping?" enzo asked the group.

you shrugged, not really caring where you would need to sleep.

"well" draco said, looking around the room. "four of us can sleep on the two couches. one can sleep in the armchair, it's long enough when we drag out the foot rest and i guess to of us have to sleep on the floor."

"i'd say the girls get one of the sofas" theo suggested, while packing up a folded blanket and handing it to you, before nodding to the couch behind your back.

"normally, i’d call out the whole 'superior male savior complex' thing," pansy smirked, draping herself over the couch with a dramatic sigh. "but tonight? i’ll allow it. anything’s better than the floor."

"i agree" you grinned, following her lead.

"how generous of you," blaise rolled his eyes. "well, one of us gonna volunteer for the floor?"

all eyes darted to mattheo, who was at fault for the entire thing anyway, since he had decided to highten the security on his friends' and especially the girls' dorm room doors, enchanting them with some weird spell, that should've just simply made sure that no unauthorised people could enter the room, but now not even the people who were supposed to could.

"yeah, yeah" mattheo muttered, stuffing the floor with a blanket and sitting down on it. "of course i'd be the first to go."

"don't victimize yourself" draco smiled sarcastically.

"yeah," blaise nodded. "if anything, i'm the victim, considering my back will hurt horribly tomorrow"

"you mean us" enzo raised his eyebrows and blaise quickly agreed, like he had simply mispoken on accident.

"so, rock, paper, scissors?" theo suggested and blaise, draco and enzo nodded, before they split into two teams, dueling each other until there was a winner on each side. they repeated the process until three people had won against the others and only one person had lost: enzo.

"this is just because i'm the youngest:" he muttered, when he arranged his bed down on the floor next to the sofa pansy and you were sleeping on.

"i don't think age is considered in the game, enz," you said in a soft tone, helping him to make the floor as comfortable as possible to lighten his mood.

"so what now?" draco asked as soon as they all had been settled: blaise and him on the remaining couch and theo on the arm chair, legs hanging over the footrest.

"scary stories?" mattheo suggested with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"aren't we a bit old for that?" draco asked with furrowed brows as he looked from one friend to another.

"we're a bit too old for sleepovers too, but who cares?" enzo grinned from the floor, catching your face light up at the mention of scary stories.

"do any of you know some?" you asked, adjusting your position under the blanket, ready to get scared.

"oh, please" mattheo smirked. he adjusted his position on the floor, before his voice dropped to a lower octave. "there’s a story the ministry doesn’t like to talk about. a case from decades ago, buried so deep you’d only find it if you knew what to look for. It’s about a child born to a pair of powerful wizards—prodigies, really. they wanted their child to be just as extraordinary as they were, maybe even more so. but there was one problem: their daughter eden was born a squib."

your brother and you exchanged unimpressed glances.

"a squib? really?" draco repeated.

"that's not meant to scare us, is it? because if you think that just because we all grew up in pureblooded families we might be scared of—"

"obviously not," mattheo interrupted blaise with a wave of his hand. "would you let me continue now?"

"go on," you nodded, crossing your arms and leaning back against the cushion of the sofa.

"so, eden was born a squib. and her parents? they couldn’t bear it. a child with no magic? in their family? so, they searched for a solution. and they found one—a forbidden spell from an ancient book, a ritual meant to transfer magical power from one soul to another. it required… a tether. something living." he looked between his friends ominiously. "they found a boy. a muggle orphan, barnett. young enough not to be missed, old enough to survive the spell—barely. they brought him into their home, dressed him like a brother to their daughter, and told the world he was family. the ritual worked."

you all shrieked up as the light flickered at his words. mattheo's smile widened, before he continued the story.

"eden gained incredible power, but the tether didn’t just give her the boy’s magic. it tied him to her—body and soul. at first, it wasn’t so bad. he would simply mimic her. if eden laughed, barnett smiled. but over time, it became… worse. eden started to hear barnett's voice in her head, whispering things she didn’t want to hear—begging her to let him go. one night, she woke up screaming. she said he was inside her skin, crawling, clawing his way out. they found her curled up in her bed, her body jerking violently. and barnett? he was standing in the corner, completely still, his eyes wide and empty."

the light flickered again and your hand unconciously clenched around pansy's wrist. pansy pulled the blanket closer, as if to shield you both from an invisible force.

“the parents tried to undo the ritual, but it was too late. barnett started appearing in places he shouldn’t have been—in reflections, in the dark corners of the house. eden began to waste away, her body covered in strange, blackened veins. she kept saying, ‘he’s taking it back.’ one morning, they found her lifeless in her bed. and barnett? he was gone."

you could see both blaise and draco furrow their brows simultaneously, unable to tell in which direction the ending of the story was going.

“the house was abandoned after that, left to crumble into ruin. sometimes, people walking by the old estate hear faint whispers, like the sound of children laughing. and if you look closely into the cracked windows, you might see a boy standing there, pale as death, waiting for someone to join him. some people said they could hear him whisper through the glass, calling for his sister: 'e—"

mattheo was interrupted by a loud thump. all of you shrieked up, your eyes on the wall were the sound had come from.

"that was probably just—" enzo wanted to say, before he too, was interrupted.

"eden!" a loud voice beamed, making you all start screaming simultaneously. "eden!" the chandelier above you started swining and the lights flickered once again.

the process lasted about thirty seconds, before everything stopped and the room looked totally normal again.

all of you had crowded together in a circle, watching the ordeal back to back.

"what the fuck was that?" pansy muttered, pressing a hand to her chest to calm her heartbeat.

your eyes wandered through the circle of people before they landed on mattheo and you stepped forward, a finger hitting his chest.

"ow!" mattheo cried at the surprising pain of your small touch.

"this isn't funny, mattheo" you snapped.

mattheo pushed your finger away. “calm down, woman. i didn’t even do anything.”

“then it was one of you!” pansy accused looking between the remaining guys.

“literally no one here has a wand, except for mattheo.” theo crossed his arms, annoyed at her stupid accusation, but there was also a hint of worry in his words.

mattheo rolled his eyes. “pansy took it earlier, remember? when i generously suggested to conjure up comfortable beds or something.”

all eyes flew to pansy.

“it wasn’t her.” you exclaimed with a shake of your head. you glanced over to the sofa, the abandoned wand lying in the middle of where pansy and you had sat. “i would’ve noticed.”

“great” blaise smiled sarcastically. “so that leaves… who exactly?”

“no one, okay?” draco nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. “this is a magical school and we’re inside an incredible old castle. this might just happen sometimes.”

you looked to the side to find enzo’s eyes, who just shrugged.

all of you knew that there needed to be a different explanation, but rather ignored the pending question, as you settled back to your sleeping spots.

there were a few more minutes of light chatter, all of you growing increasingly more tired, before it was finally time to sleep. with a wave of mattheo’s wand, pansy put out the light and all of you got under your blankets.

you drifted off to sleep easier than you would've guessed, your mind being tired down from an exhausting school day and your body feeling the effects of walking up and down stairs all day.

you didn't even mind the snoring of the boys, as your mind settled on a sweet dream about something you surely wouldn't remember in the morning.

just when you thought the night wouldn't be as bad as expected, you woke up around 3am, the air in the common room was ice cold and you were shivering even under your thick blanket.

you opened your eyes to try and find the source of the coldness in the darkness, only for your gaze to flicker to enzo, who was stirring in his sleep, before he finally opened his eyes, directly looking back.

enzo made a surprised sound at you looking down at him and sat up. "why are you awake?" he whispered, as to not wake your still sleeping friends.

"it's cold," you muttered back, your eyes wandering around the room once again.

"oh," enzo nodded. "the fire is out." he threw back his blanket and got up. "here, let me just.." he grabbed a few pieces of wood and reached for mattheo's wand on the table to enlight the flame. the fire prickled to life quickly, illuminating the room in a warm glow and you immediately felt a lot warmer.

"thank you." you smiled gratefully as you watched enzo walk back over.

"anything," he smiled down at you and even in the dark you could see his perfect white teeth and your cheeks grew pink from the warmth of his gaze.

for a few seconds the both of you just simply looked at each other. you, still sitting on the couch, and enzo leaning slightly over you, keeping his gaze locked onto your eyes.

the moment was interrupted by a loud bang, when a shelf collapsed, sending a dozen books down to the floor. you had gripped enzo’s hand and he had fallen onto your legs as he had shrieked away from the sudden sound.

the rest of the slytherins now opened their eyes too, just as disturbed from the sudden loudness as enzo and you.

"what the hell?" mattheo sat up, rubbing his eyes.

all eyes wandered to the books on the floor. draco and blaise sat up too, pansy groaned and theo cleared his throat when his gaze dropped to enzo sitting half on your lap. enzo got back onto his feet in a hurry.

"i see you're counting on my sister to protect you, huh?" theo quirked a brow, a sarcastic smile settling onto his lips. but he was less amused than annoyed.

"n-no" enzo stuttered and looked at you for help.

you rolled your eyes, not willing to entertain your brother any further than necessary. "well, if you must know,” you began, sitting up straighter, “enzo was just about to confess his undying love for me before the bookshelf rudely interrupted.”

enzo choked on air. “i—what?” he quickly shook his head. "theo, i swear i wasn't—"

pansy, now fully awake, smirked. “oh, this just got interesting.”

draco groaned, flopping back against the couch. “It’s too bloody late for whatever this is.”

theo, however, narrowed his eyes at you. “hilarious.” his tone was flat, but the slight twitch of his jaw told you he wasn’t entirely amused. “but let’s focus on the part where random objects are flying around while we’re supposed to be sleeping.”

"exactly." blaise nodded, pointing a hand in theo's direction. "i think theo brings up a very good point: someone should go over there and inspect the thing."

"okay. why not you?" mattheo challenged, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

blaise shook his head, laughing like mattheo had suggested the stupidest thing ever. "for obvious reasons, mattheo." without explaining further, his eyes darted across the room, landing on pansy and you. "ladies?"

"and they say chivalry is dead." pansy smiled sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest, "i'm not doing shit. i heard draco has studied well for the upcoming defense exam. he should go"

"actually" draco corrected, holding up a finger. "theo has been the one who helped me study, so i really think he—"

"fucking babies." you muttered, climbing down from the couch and walking closer to the book shelf at the back of the room.

"the wand, y/n" mattheo suggested, as he nodded at the fireplace, where enzo had left his wand.

you nodded, gripping the wand in your hand and slowly stepping closer.

"you're really letting her do this?" enzo frowned in theo's direction. your brother simply shrugged, not quite convinved there was something that could hurt you waiting in the corner of the room.

"y/n, wait"

you froze in the middle of the room. the same distance between you and your friends as to the bookshelf in front of you. you turned around and saw enzo standing in the middle of the two couches, looking unsure.

"what?" you questioned at his dramatic stance.

"i'll come with you."

"i'm not going to war, enz."

you were unable to stop the boy, the determination had already settled on his face, as he grabbed a pillow and stepped across the room.

"fucking idiot," you could hear blaise mutter under his breath. "two funerals is gonna be super expensive."

"no ones getting buried." pansy whispered back harshly.

"and you're loaded anyway." theo lazily commented.

you ignored your friends, your gaze still fixed on enzo, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. you were sure whatever it was, it wasn't as bad as to warrant that kind of fear.

"you really don't have to." you furrowed your brows at the way the pillow was shaking in his hold. "it's probably nothing."

"but what if it isn't?" enzo glanced to the shelf. "then you need someone to protect you."

normally you would've immediately corrected that stupid assumption, but the boy was so determined and ready to jump between you and whatever was waiting near that shelf, that you just couldn't. he was too lovely for his own good.

"okay," you nodded, stepping closer to the shelf.

the atmosphere in the room only grew to be scarier, as all of you held your breaths and the slytherins kept their eyes trained on enzo and you, stepping closer to whatever was awaiting you.

your hand gently wandered over the shelf in the wall, and after a few quiet seconds, your exhaled your breath, relief flooding your features. "see?" you said, turning back to your friends, "nothing—"

a loud crash echoed through the room when the remaining shelves all broke through at the same time. enzo jumped forward, gripping your hand and effectively sending mattheo's wand flying, as he pushed you behind him and threw his weapon,—pansy's super soft foam pillow that she always carried in her enchanted bag in case she got tired—, at the shelf.

"run," he then screamed, pushing you back into the direction of the couches, accompanied by your and your friends frantic screams.

"now should be the right time to get the fuck out of here." pansy suggested with a screech.

"could you please, uh, NOT SCREAM THAT DIRECTLY INTO MY EAR?" blaise's voice rang through the room.

"great! you left the wand" mattheo looked a little shaken up, but a lot less than the rest of your friends. the same could be said about theo.

"calm down," your brother said loudly, interrupting the fight that was going on between pansy and blaise, who were both continuously screaming at each other.

"calm down?" blaise repeated. "this is the fucking conjuring. how am i supposed to calm down?!"

"what's the conjuring?" draco asked confused, looking at you for help, but you could only shrug, never having heard that name before.

"muggle horror film." theo exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "what in merlins name are you doing?" he narrowed his eyes at blaise, who was hectically lifting blankets and seemingly searching for something.

"oh, i'm out of here." blaise shrugged, still searching. "but i'm not about to leave my gucci scarf down here."

"gucci scarf?" enzo repeated in a whisper.

"might be another muggle thing." you shrugged.

"and where exactly are we leaving to?" draco crossed his arms. "i'm not about to be caught in the halls and lose like 50 points each."

"whatever we decide on, my wand is still lying at the end of this room." mattheo nodded to the point where his wand was still moving a little from falling from your hand.

"that's on me." you nodded. "i'll get it." you stepped forward, but before you could move further, enzo pushed you back into pansy's arms.

"i'll go. it was my fault anyway."

"lovely." blaise nodded sarcastically. "i'm gonna find good words for your funeral, brother."

"ready to die for a girl who isn't even his girlfriend." draco muttered under his breath.

theo's head turned to the blonde boy, his gaze sharp. "his what?"

draco averted his eyes and followed the line of sight of the rest of his friends, including you, who were staring after enzo with a guiltridden expression.

enzo took one step after the other, very slowly nearing the wand, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, as if to look out for any hints of an intruder or another thing happening.

he hesitated only for a second before taking a step forward, reaching down toward where mattheo’s wand had landed—

then, without warning, the flames in the fireplace extinguished completely. darkness swallowed the room. the temperature plummeted once more.

and from the depths of the common room, an unmistakable whisper slithered through the air—low, cold, and utterly inhuman.

run.

all of you took a moment to react, frozen in your movement, before blaise broke your trance, jumping over the couch like he was a gold winning athlete. "save yourselves!" he screamed, already half up the stairs.

screaming, you and your friends bolted for the stairs, trampling over each other in a frantic attempt to get out.

mattheo tripped over a pillow. pansy shoved draco out of her way. enzo sprinted across the room, holding onto your wrist, practically dragging you toward the common room entrance.

you all arrived at the doors, which just wouldn't budge, trapping you in the room.

a loud laugh echoed through the room, as all of you stood, your backs pressed against the doors, looking ahead with sheer horror at whatever was about to reveal itself.

then a poof and the sickly satisfied expression on peeves' face was staring right at you.

"PEEVES?" pansy shrieked, her voice cracking as she clutched onto draco’s arm.

"you've got to be kidding." theo groaned, rubbing his temples.

mattheo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "i knew this was too stupid to be a real haunting."

"stupid?" peeves gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. "STUPID?" then, as if deciding that was a compliment, he grinned. "oh, but it worked, didn’t it? look at you all! shaking in your boots!” he twisted midair and did a mock bow. “peeves wins again!"

"you're dead," blaise muttered. "dead. when the baron gets back, you’re done."

at that, peeves did a lazy backflip and grinned. "ah, but he’s not here tonight, is he? nooo, the baron is out twirling with the other ghosts, leaving poor little slytherins all alone… and ripe for a bit of mischief!" he cackled, swooping down to hover inches from theo’s face. "you lot are always so boring—all your rules and manners and pureblood traditions—blah, blah, blah! so i took my chance, locked you out of your rooms and had a little fun.”

"so it was you!" mattheo pointed at the ghost, before turning his gaze back to all of you. "see! it wasn't my fault, my hex would've worked just as intended if this stupid little—"

"actually," peeves interrupted, spinning in midair. "you were this close to making things a whole lot worse. your hex would’ve triggered a nasty smell throughout the whole castle, like rotten fish and burnt hair. not to mention it might've set the curtains on fire. a real disaster, if you ask me."

"what?!" mattheo's eyes widened in disbelief. "i didn’t—"

"of course you didn't, mattheo" pansy rolled her eyes, stepping away from the door and sending a last scornful look in peeves' direction. "if you would excuse me? i'm going back to sleep."

"yeah, me too." draco sighed, following pansy back down into the common room.

the rest of you nodded too, leaving peeves behind, who pouted at your sudden disinterest, as you settled back into your sleeping bags for the night.

tomorrow you would explain to professor snape what peeves had done, maybe leaving out the part where mattheo had nearly burned down something and cursed the entire castle, and he would hopefully help you unlock your rooms and return to normal.

enzo smiled up at you, when you had gotten comfortable under your blanket.

the others had already grown quiet, indicating them drifting off to sleep.

you were still wide awake, looking down at the boy, who didn't make any move to close his eyes or go back to sleep either.

"thanks for protecting me tonight." you whispered softly. "especially while you were scared too."

"any time." enzo assured.

you weren't sure what possessed you to do it, but your hand wandered down slowly, softly brushing against his arm, as if to comfort him.

"really, though," you continued, your voice quieter now, "i don’t think i could’ve made it through all that without you."

enzo's lips curled into a small smile, but he didn’t say anything right away. his hand, almost instinctively, moved closer to yours, fingers brushing against yours in the slightest, a silent acknowledgment.

"you’ve got a way of making me feel less stupid," he said after a beat, a teasing undertone in his voice that made you laugh softly.

"maybe that’s because you’re not stupid at all," you replied, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

"is this okay?" he whispered softly, taking your hand into his fully.

you nodded, before you closed your eyes. enzo's voice being the last thing you heard before drifting off into a dream filled with the golden light of the sun and whispered promises under cherry blossom trees.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispered, his voice soft but sincere. "i'll be waiting for you."

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[mreowsu]

you almost blind sae

whipped a li'l something during a fleeting inspiration. been awhile since i've touched ibispaint. hope u guys like

check out the sketch

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spring green spilled across the earth like watercolor, bleeding into soft yellow and red where the wildflowers thrived. the grass beneath was still damp, cool from morning dew, but sae didn't seem to mind. he lay back against the earth with one arm tucked beneath his head, lashes fluttering now and then like he might drift off if you left him alone long enough. his legs were crooked carelessly, the hem of his shirt riding up slightly over the waistband of his jeans. it was a rare, quiet afternoon—no coaches, no obligations. just you, him, the faint sound of spanish chatter somewhere in the distance and of birds rustling somewhere beyond the trees. you sat cross-legged, fingers fumbling with your camera. the film still loaded from your last aimless adventure.

he looked soft like this, all silent tension unraveled. so you decided to ruin it.

“hey, sae.”

he hummed faintly in response, eyes fluttering shut.

“look over there.”

you catch the roll of his eyes underneath his eyelids before he cracked one open. “at what?”

“just look. over there.” you pointed vaguely beyond your back with your thumb as you kept tinkering with your camera.

“there’s nothing there.”

“yeah, huh. just keep looking.”

he squinted, brows drawing together. “i don’t see shit.”

he sat up, blinking into the distance. his teal eyes—too clear, catching light so sharply they looked almost clear, as if the sun had passed through water and splintered into glass. his mouth was frowned shut, caught between irritation and curiosity.

and that was when you took it.

cllick. whirr. flash!

“shit—!”

a sharp burst of light lit up sae’s face, and he recoiled like he’d just been punched in the eyes, palms flying up to his face, brows knitted.

you gasped, already flailing. “oh my god—i’m sorry! i forgot the flash was on!”

he kept blinking furiously, like he was trying to blink the burn away. “i can taste colors.”

“i said sorry!—” you swatted at his hand lightly. “stop rubbing! your eyes… they're already too delicate for this kind of abuse—let me see.”

“don’t fuss,” he muttered, flinching a little as your fingers brushed his temple.

you hesitated—just for a second. sae never really liked touch. he tolerated it the way someone tolerates light rain. rarely sought it, rarely leaned into it. but he didn’t pull away... so you cupped his face carefully in your palms, thumbs ghosting along the soft skin of his knuckles, still rubbing.

“i’m so sorry, sae. i didn’t mean to—the flash—ugh, i forgot, i wasn’t thinking, i swear—”

“if i go blind, i’m blaming you.”

you pouted, still worried. “you won’t go blind, but i’ll make carrot juice just in case.”

“that’s not how eyes work.”

“i’m trying to help you, idiot—we're not even a year in spain and you might go back unseeing.” was unseeing even an existing word?

he scoffed softly, then gently, you reached for his hands that were still stubbornly rubbing. slowly, his hands lowered from his face, lashes still trembling from the sting. but he wasn’t really angry. just adjusting, lips barely lifted in the corner.

he squinted, teal eyes glossy and stunned in that sunlit sort of way that made them look more glass than color. they reflected the blue sky overhead. you’d forgotten how pale they could get in daylight.

you tilt his head away from the sun lest its rays further the burn in his eyes, smoothing his hair back. “you’re blinking weird. wait—are you squinting because you’re in pain or because you’re glaring at me?”

“both.”

you sighed, softly caressing his under eyes. “god, your eyes are so light, they catch everything. you’re gonna have spots for hours.”

“i already do.”

you frown at his growing sass, responding in equal match. “do you want tea? an eye patch? a cold compress? sunglasses?”

he blinked, lashes heavy. “maybe just some peace.”

you sighed again, softly dramatic, and reached for the polaroid you had dropped amidst your fretting. you pulled the photo from where it ejected—still developing. a blur of color, but you could already see the shape of him—crumpled hoodie, hair rusted red by the sunlight, his irises caught mid-glow like they were never meant to be exposed like that. brows downturned and unassuming, his expression stunned and vaguely betrayed.

you laughed under your breath. “you look pathetic.” you offered the photo like a peace treaty. “like a prince who just woke up weird.”

sae's brows further drew together at your confusing, backhanded compliment and took the polaroid with a crippling glare. he stared at it for a long moment, his expression settling into something unreadable—but not cold. never with you. his gaze then roll to catch yours.

“you took this without asking,” he said.

“i know.”

a beat.

“…do i really look that confused?”

you giggled. “like trying to remember your own name.”

“…burn it.”

immediately, you snatched the instant film and held it close to your chest like a shield. “nope. this is going in the hall of fame.”

digging into your bag, you found your pen and flipped the film to write on the back with a grin.

you were halfway through writing behind the photo, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek in concentration. “sae caught lacking—”

you’d only gotten to the loopy tail of the letter g before his hand shot out, snatching the photo clean from your grip.

“hey—!” you yelped, jerked forward by surprise, the pen dragging a jagged black smear all the way to the edge of the photo paper. “sae!”

he held the picture out of reach like a villain, expression unreadable, though the tips of his ears were red—betrayal, always, in the details.

you scowl at the black ink trailing across the glossy white, a jagged scar across the words that were meant to be immortalized—except had been tainted with a long, ugly mark thanks to a certain someone’s well-timed snatch.

“sae,” you grumble, patience thinning.“i was still writing.”

he ignores you. “what the hell is ‘caught lacking’ supposed to mean?” he asked dryly, eyes flicking from the botched handwriting to his own dumbstruck, betrayed face, bleary with flash blindness, frozen forever in film.

“it’s slang,” you muttered, reaching uselessly for it. “y’know. for looking stupid. off-guard. being a little guy, caught unprepared.”

he narrows his eyes at you, suspicious. “you just made that up.”

“no,” you said blankly. “i’m pretty sure shakespeare said it first.”

sae glanced one again at the caption, then back at you. “you are so annoying.”

you leaned in and kissed his temple quickly. “i know.”

you ignore his quiet intake of breath and slid the photo from his fingers, holding it at arm’s length, the picture now fully developed in all its glory. sae’s stupidly handsome face despite the absurdity of the situation, caught mid-rise, mid-why the hell did you do that. it was honestly kind of perfect.

you bit back a smile. “this is gonna make me so much money in the future.”

he visibly shakes away from his reverie and shoots you a flat look, still blinking spots from his vision. “seriously?”

“dead serious.” you waved the photo at him. “once you’re world-class and unbearable, i’m auctioning this for, like, millions.”

“you already think i’m unbearable.”

“yes, but i’m broke.”

“ugh.”

“like i said, it's going in the hall of fame,” you declare, already digging through you bag.

he doesn't ask what that is. he knows.

he watches you, head tilted just enough to see through half-lidded eyes. you tug multiple items out that were presumably blocking your pursuit of the aforementioned hall of fame. finally, you slide out a photobook, a soft, worn thing full of half-captured moments and quiet not-quites. things only you care to remember. things you think he might, too. you already had one back at japan, but you forgot that one and now you’ve kept this one since the day you both landed in spain—half-crammed with ticket stubs, train receipts, grocery lists scribbled in half-broken spanish, and photos that never quite make sense to anyone but you. you flip through a blurry shot of him passing out on the couch with a slice of bread still in his mouth, and a sunlit picture of your feet side-by-side on the edge of a rooftop. the new addition slips in without protest, right beside a snapshot from your trip to barcelona—him mid-yawn, you copying him in front of la sagrada familia. another one next to it catches the blistering spanish sun with sae visibly looking jet-lagged in the corner, glaring daggers at the sky like it personally wronged him.

you flip the photobook shut, absentmindedly, like the soon-to-be priceless photos tucked inside are nothing more than old receipts. “it’s a solid investment,” you murmur. “when the world’s obsessed with itoshi sae, i’ll have proof he got flashbanged by a nobody.”

he scoffed. “you’re not a nobody.”

you blinked. he never said things like that. not out loud.

your voice went soft, teasing again to cover it. “fine. a slight relevant nobody.”

his lips twitched, but he didn’t take it back. didn’t argue. just reached over and stole the photobook off your lap and tucked it back in the confines of your overflowing bag like that was easier than saying something else.

you let him.

the picture stayed tucked safe and away from any thieving hands, and sae stayed close. you both pretended not to notice that he still hadn’t moved out of reach.

“you let me touch you,” you started after a train of silence, teasing.

he didn’t answer right away.

then, so quiet you almost missed it: “you’re the only one i don’t mind.”

you stilled and feel your face warm a tad. a little breath catching somewhere deep. his head turned just enough to face you, teal eyes still slightly squinted, the fading sunlight catching in the strands of his hair.

you glance back and catch it: the faintest lift of his mouth, that rare, reluctant thing. the kind of smile he never gives to others. only in moments like this—unguarded and quiet, almost like he's forgotten to be distant. he’s just watching you now. like maybe, even with spots in his vision and a minor case of betrayal, he didn’t mind being fussed over by you.

you smile. “i’ll make the carrot juice anyway.”

“in that case, make enough for two.” he muttered.

you look away and adjust where you seated, closer than before. his arm brushes yours for half a second longer than it should. he doesn’t pull away.

and you don’t say anything.

neither does he.

but the space between you is warm. unasusming. waiting.

not quite nothing.

not yet something.

and that was how it always was—with him, with you. never a confession. never a kiss—aside from the occasional brush of lips to temple. just proximity. small collisions. and a hundred quiet ways to say i care without ever saying it at all.

© mreowsu · do not plagiarize, alter nor use my work/s for personal interest and gain without firm permission.