#GO AHEAD AND LAUGH EVEN IF IT HURTS. ( CRACK. )

[lovebugism]

What if reader's friends convince her to go on a date with another guy, and this guy is an absolute jerk? I think reader would call Eddie and ask her to come pick her up - why is every guy an asshole? Except Eddie of course 🖤

ty for requesting :D — grumpy!eddie rescues you from a bad date then offers to take you on a better one (friends to lovers, hurt/comfort ish | 1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The sunset matches the color of your Slurpee. A fiery red and orange hue, like the mango and strawberry concoction in your cup. You sip from the plastic straw and pretend to taste the sky in your mouth — pretending not to notice the pounding bass of Eddie’s van as he peals into the parking lot. 

You sit on the curb and keep your eyes trained on the cracked pavement under your feet. All cool. Like you hadn’t called him for help at all.

“You could’ve been more specific about where you were, you know?” Eddie shouts, punctuating his question with the slam of the car door. His worn sneakers scuff the concrete with each of his rushed strides. You’d almost think he was actually worried about you.

“I told you I was at the payphone by the Seven-Eleven,” you shrug, tilting your chin to look up at the boy when he stands ahead of you.

“There’s four of those,” he argues, with his lanky figure looming over you. He pushes his leather jacket off his sides (which he wears in spite of the summer heat) to put his hands on his hips. “Seriously. I counted ‘em all in the half hour it took me to find you.”

You squint up at him, hardly apologetic after the shit day you’ve had. “Well, sorry for not being more clear,” you spit in a cynical monotone.

“Apology accepted,” Eddie shrugs. He huffs and sits on the curb next to you while you slurp audibly at the slushie in your fist. He leans over to knock your shoulders with his. “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Figured… Can I have some, at least?”

He’s only partly surprised when you hand over the drink without protest. He takes it in his ringed fist, looks inside to observe its content, then sips at the red straw (trying to ignore the nagging thought that your lips have been where his are now). The strawberry-mango mixture melts quickly on his tongue, foreign and sweet. “’S nice.”

You scoff like you’re owed the compliment. “Right? I let Josh try some earlier, and he said it tasted like shit. I was like, you know what, this is my final fucking straw.”

Eddie’s face screws. He wipes dramatically at his mouth with the back of his hand, hopelessly trying to erase the other asshole’s DNA. “Are you serious?” he mumbles, all annoyed ‘cause you hadn’t thought to warn him beforehand. You don’t seem to understand his meaning, though, as you shrug lazily in response.

“Well, him trying to feel me up in his car was my actual final straw. But then he hated my all-time favorite Slurpee, and I didn’t even want to look at him anymore. I just told him to leave me here.”

The only thing Eddie hates more than putting his mouth where Josh’s has been — other than the thought of Josh taking you on a date at all — is the idea of Josh not treating you right. His chest burns with a withheld rage.

“Are you talking about fucking Josh O.?” he scoffs and passes the styrofoam cup back to you. “Like, the moron from Mr. Mundy’s, Josh O.? That’s who Steve set you up with?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble and take another sip, more casual about the subtle spit-swapping than the boy beside you had been.

“He was basically setting you up for failure, then. You know that, right?”

“I just wanted a free meal,” you confess quietly.

Eddie squints. His eyes flit from your profile, to your fidgeting hand punching holes in the ice with your straw, and back to your profile again. “Well, did you get one?”

“Yep. We split one burger at the diner.”

A laugh sputters from his pink mouth.

Your head whips to glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

Eddie props his elbow on his knee to hide his smile behind his ringed hand. “I mean… It kinda is, though. ‘Cause even I could buy two meals for us, and I’m basically the brokest fucker in this town.”

“Are you offering?”

His brows pinch. “Offering what?”

“To buy me a burger,” you say in a mousy voice, pretending to be innocent as you peer at him beneath your lashes, all doe-eyed.

“What?” Eddie scoffs through the sparkling in his chest. As a self-proclaimed metalhead, there was absolutely nothing metal about confessing to stupid crushes. “No.”

“Well, it sounds a lot like you’re offering,” you tease before wrapping your lips around the straw of your drink.

“Well, this sounds a lot like talking for someone who doesn’t wanna talk about it,” he mocks.

Your eyes narrow in annoyance. You part from your Slurpee and mumble through the ice on your tongue. “I wasted my quarters on you,” you deadpan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. He rises from the curb with a huff, wincing at the distant ache in his long legs. “C’mon, weirdo. Let’s go,” he urges, towering over you again.

You shake your head, gaze averted, suddenly shy. “I’m okay here.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m serious, Eds. I don’t feel like going home right now—”

“I’m not taking you home,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. Your eyes flit back to his, suddenly hopeful again, and he tries not to cower. “I’m taking you to the diner. So I can get you a real meal.”

You seem particularly moved by the uncharacteristic act of kindness. “Really?”

“Yes, really— I don’t want you to starve to death,” he grouses, feigning annoyance ‘cause it’s easier than facing his real feelings in the face. “Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

He walks off ahead of you on long legs, leaving you behind to catch up. But, because he isn’t a total asshole, he opens the squeaking passenger side door for you.

“Can I get a milkshake, too?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, helping yourself onto the cracked pleather seat.

“Don’t push it,” Eddie squints. He goes to shut the door, then catches the pretty pout pinching your features. “Fine,” he groans before slamming it shut.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[zhongrin]

“honey, can you… help adjust my bra straps?”

— how does he react to your silly attempt to fluster him?

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, ayato, childe, cyno, kaeya, wanderer, tighnari, diluc, kaveh, xiao

◇ tags ◇ gn pronouns but reader has boobs, fluff, crack, suggestive (al haitham, childe, ayato)

◇ a/n ◇ i have no idea where this idea came from but just take it off my hands thanks

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli doesn't even flinch or blink. he merely smiles that mysterious and handsome smile of his, wordlessly standing behind you to calmly adjust the straps; making sure they’re fitted snugly, not too loose but not too tight, just the way he knows you like it.

he finishes with a soft, intimate kiss to the junction of your neck right after, and if he’s feeling risqué you might even feel a little nibble. it seems like the turns have tabled.

at your request, al haitham hums airily and does as asked, checking up on you every time he tightened the straps, to make sure they aren’t digging onto your shoulders. when he finishes, he tells you you look good and he can’t wait to pull them off you later in a matter-of-fact manner before going back to reading his book nonchalantly.

well then. guess you’ve gained an unplanned activity in your schedule today.

childe eyes you with mischief twinkling in his blue eyes, and if he judges that you’re indeed in a playful mood, he’ll slip his hands under your bra to grab your boobs, without any shame whatsoever. he laughs merrily if you protest and try to slap his hands away, but if you do anything borderline scandalous or tease back?

oh, you better be prepared, comrade.

diluc almost splutters in embarrassment, but he somehow barely manages to catch his composure from slipping at the very last moment.

he’s gentle as he fixes the straps, smoothening the stretchy fabric and making sure he’s not hurting you in any way as he adjusts it to your liking. your fiercely blushing lover presses a kiss to your shoulder when he’s done and avoids your eyes when you thank him.

go ahead, push him more, make him break that composure.

did you just try and fluster kaeya? welp, unfortunately for you, his instinct is to retaliate by teasing you to no end.

that is not to say that he doesn’t help, however. he’ll still do it, but you best be prepared for him doing so while whispering sweet nothings into your ear all the while. he chuckles when you tell him it’s enough, and with one last kiss on your cheek he walks away - but not before he lightly snaps one of the straps against your skin; not enough to hurt but just as a playful gesture.

better luck next time, darling.

wanderer rolls his eyes, “do it yourself,” he says with a huff. he can’t blush, but honestly, if he could, he probably would have - because seriously, what kind of stupid request did you just ask him to do??

it’s only when you huff back and threaten him with a hissy “fine then, i’ll just ask someone else.” does he relent.

he does it while grumbling all the while, by the way.

ayato merely chuckles and proceeds to tease you with a snarky “should i get a maid to help you get dressed from now on, dear?”

he ponders for a while as he touches the soft material and a cunning smile spreads across his handsomeness, along with a half-playful, half-serious, “actually, scratch the idea, i’d rather do the putting-on and taking-off myself.”

cyno splutters and chokes on his own spit at the sudden request.

for a moment, he’s utterly baffled; was this a normal request one would commonly ask of a lover? he has no idea, but he could never refuse you anyway, so he nervously does it under your guidance, ever so benignly, as if he’s afraid he’ll somehow hurt you in the process.

tighnari’s reply is as snarky as usual and accompanied by an affectionate roll of his eyes, “alright, your royal highness.”

he plays with the material for a while, trying to gauge your reactions, because he’s almost pretty sure that you don’t need actual help - that you’re just asking to get a rise out of him.

and if he judges that his hunch is correct? well, he’ll still help you, but he might bite you (lovingly) in retaliation.

kaveh can’t help his sappy ass from crooning and giving you an affectionate back hug while praising your ethereal beauty before actually doing the task you require him to do. he’s talking all the while about how pretty your skin is and how he loves seeing it in its most natural state with every discoloration and bumps and freckles and moles and all its perfection. but god forbid the strap was digging into your shoulder and leaving a red mark on your skin, for he would gasp in horror and offer you to buy a better brassiere that would fit you more with his nonexistent money.

it’s okay, he can just uh- sell some of this stuff. like... his rulers! yes. he can use his claymore to measure things, don’t you even worry!

xiao teleports away in embarrassment the first time it happened.

the second time, he freezes in place, eyes wide, cheeks bursting in red, before he teleports away into the wind. again.

the third time around, he reacts similarly, only this time, he’s scowling at you with those blushes on his cheeks instead of running away. in fact, he’s approaching you, and he grumbles a soft “you’re definitely doing this to tease me. no respect for the adepti.” his hand trembles as he helps you, but when you kiss him as thanks he thinks perhaps he wouldn’t mind suffering from embarrassment if you’re going to reward him this way.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town

[loveinhawkins]

gently prise the feeling out

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 2 prompt, “hands.”

It’s the movement that catches Steve’s eye: Eddie’s hands flexing gingerly as they walk through the woods.

At first Steve dismisses it as a nervous habit—honestly, he’d say Eddie’s holding up pretty well for someone who recently swam into an alternate dimension—but then his flashlight illuminates the side of Eddie’s face at just the right moment, and he sees the clenched jaw of discomfort.

“Are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, Eddie doesn’t look like he’s been found out; he just looks puzzled. “Uh, no?”

“Your hands,” Steve clarifies. “You keep…” With his free hand, he imitates the motion.

“Oh,” Eddie says. “I didn’t know I was—it’s nothing, man, really, just—” He laughs slightly. “Was swinging the oar around, managed to hit a bat—Jesus Christ, those fuckers are heavy. Honestly, it’s, uh, kind of a miracle I hit it at all, d’you remember how shit I was at baseball?”

“You weren’t that bad,” Steve says—vaguely recalls the days of shared phys ed and thinks, you were just left-handed, and no-one threw the ball at you properly.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re very generous, Harrington,” he says; the words sound like they’re placed somewhere in between teasing and genuine. As he speaks, he subtly shakes his hands out.

Steve angles the flashlight down to them. “Lemme see.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

Steve stands his ground, just raises an eyebrow expectantly. Robin and Nancy aren’t that far ahead; they’ll catch up again in no time.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. Scoffs. “Um, I think I’ll live, Steve. I can’t believe you’re even—like, you’re—” He gestures wildly, and it takes Steve a second to realise that he’s referring to the bat bites.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says with practised confidence; right now, he doesn’t have time to be anything else.

“Then I’m fine, too.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes; he doesn’t want to be locked in a stalemate out of their mutual stubbornness.

“Dude, I could’ve already looked by now.”

Eddie actually rolls his eyes at that. He turns his hands over quickly, darting in and out of the flashlight’s beam like he’s saying ta-da!

“Wow,” Steve says in mock astonishment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were five.” He makes a beckoning gesture, like an impatient teacher waiting for homework.

Eddie smirks as if he’s trying not to laugh outright. And then he joins in on the act, too, stomping over with theatrical reluctance.

“Watch the vines,” Steve says, amused.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, “that’d be a real stupid way to go.” He stops right in front of Steve—and this time, he shows his hands properly: cupped together, arms outstretched.

“Can you just—need ‘em a little more—” Instinctively, Steve puts a hand underneath Eddie’s, gently pushes them up, further into the light. “Yeah, there.”

Eddie’s skin is cold to the touch; it reminds him of how Robin’s hands had felt the night of Starcourt and, less distressingly, whenever she’s nervous before a practical music exam.

He moves the flashlight back and forth in assessment. It doesn’t seem like anything’s swollen—he remembers the ache of his own hand that night in ‘83: the erratic pulse of Christmas lights as if they were possessed; the crack of the baseball bat; Jonathan and Nancy’s screams.

But what the flashlight does expose is…

“Ouch,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie’s hands are embedded with splinters.

Eddie shakes his head again. He nods at the bandage across Steve’s middle. “C’mon, man, I don’t—these aren’t exactly war wounds.”

Steve decides not to fight him on it. Opts for a lighter touch, “No more oars for you.”

Eddie chuckles the tiniest bit. It’s a sad sound.

“Yeah, that’s not—they’re from Rick’s. The, um, the boat, y’know? I…” Eddie bites his lip. “It’s kinda… fuzzy, but I’d fall asleep in there, like just for a second, and then I guess I’d—” His fingers twitch above Steve’s palm. “Panic.”

Steve can picture it: Eddie starting awake, hands scrambling across the rough wood, as if in desperation for it all to be a nightmare; that maybe if he kept searching the splinters would melt away, transform into the softness of bedsheets.

“Remind me later,” Steve says, and he pats the unmarked skin of Eddie’s knuckles in reassurance. Keeps his touch there so he’s still partially holding Eddie’s hands up. “I’ll get them out with a pin, I’m good at…” He falters at Eddie’s silence. “I’ll be careful,” he says—it feels important, suddenly, that Eddie should know.

Eddie looks at him. The reflection of the flashlight’s glow flickers in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he says softly.

One of his hands tilts ever so slightly, fingertips brushing against Steve’s palm. Then he steps back, hands falling down to his sides.

Steve resumes illuminating the forest floor. They walk on, and in the quiet, the air feels different, changed—for the better, Steve hopes: like something tender’s been exposed to the surface.

[wcbblife]

Nights with you

a/n: might not be much but I'm in love with the idea about Paige as a mom so read if you want.

You could practically feel how eager Paige was to just get back home to you and Mia. The anticipation of seeing her family again was probably the only thing keeping her going through the tough game tonight. It had been a gritty match, with Paige taking shots from every single player on the opposing team, but she’d managed to pull away with a win for her team.

You’d seen how exhausted she seemed in the post-game interview. She’d put on a brave face and smiled at the camera, but you caught the way her shoulders slumped as soon as she walked away, the weariness seeping through the cracks of her professional facade.

You could tell she was running on fumes at this point.

After the game, you wait a bit until you know she’s in the locker room. You hesitate, unsure if you should just go ahead and throw her a short text, knowing she still has some media obligations to take care of.

Paige had a routine: she liked to unwind a little before coming home, often taking a short bath to relax her muscles so that when she came home she was already ready to spend quality time with you two.

Before you could even think more about it, Paige beats you to it, sending you a short message: “I’ll try to keep it short today. Missing you guys already.”

It makes you smile immediately. You can picture her, tired but determined, pushing through the last of her duties just to get home to you and Mia as soon as possible.

However, you don’t hear from her for another two hours.

The wait feels endless, each minute dragging on as you try to keep yourself and Mia occupied. Mia babbles impatiently, her little face scrunched up in concentration as she plays with her toys. You bend down to pick her up, rocking her back and forth to soothe her restlessness.

The moment doesn’t last long. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your front door. You gasp at Mia, “Who’s that?” You let her down and smile as you hear the patter of her tiny feet on the wooden floor. She shrieks with delight, slapping her palms on the door repeatedly.

You open the door and you’re met with the most adorable sight. Paige, looking worn but radiant, lets her bags drop to the ground. She immediately squats down, arms outstretched to welcome Mia into her embrace. Mia doesn’t hesitate, throwing herself into Paige’s arms with a joyous squeal. Paige wraps her arms around her, lifting her up and holding her close with the widest grin ever.

“Hey, baby,” she whispers, her voice thick and a little raspy. “I missed you so much today.”

She backs up, and Mia immediately runs her hands all over Paige’s face, giggling uncontrollably. You walk over, and Paige reaches out to give you a soft kiss. “Missed you too, momma,” she whispers against your lips.

Before you can say more, Mia fusses, pushing your faces away to wrap her small hands around Paige’s head. Paige huffs a laugh into Mia's chest, coaxing another round of giggles from the toddler. “You’re not gonna let me give some love to mommy, Mia?” she teases. You laugh, leaning in again, only to be stopped by a tiny hand planted square on your face.

“Hey, be careful with Momma,” Paige gently scolds, taking hold of Mia’s little hand and kissing it softly. “That hurts, sweetie.”

Mia, seemingly appeased, lays her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige visibly relaxes, squeezing her tiny body a little tighter, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

“Come in, it’s cold,” you say, pulling her inside and grabbing her bags. “There’s food on the stove if you haven’t already eaten, and the room’s already cool just in case you want to—” The words trail off as you turn around to find Paige’s face just inches from your own.

“Thank you, baby,” she murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and finally your lips. “You wanna eat with us, Mia?” she coos, running her fingers through Mia’s hair.

Mia hums into Paige’s neck, tightening her hold. Paige looks over at you.

“She’s a bit tired,” you note. You run your hand up and down Mia’s back, placing a soft kiss on her tiny shoulder as she nuzzles deeper into Paige’s neck. “Waiting for mommy tired her out a bit.”

“Should I put her to sleep?” Paige asks, gently rubbing Mia’s back.

“No, mommy…” Mia grumbles, sitting up a bit. Paige leans back to get a good look at her face and smiles as she sees Mia struggling to keep her eyes open. Mia rubs her eyes, and Paige tenderly pushes her head back down onto her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Paige whispers. She starts walking towards Mia’s room, gently swaying to soothe her. You follow, feeling the love radiating from the simple act of putting your daughter to bed. Paige lays Mia down gently, tucking her in with care.

As Mia finally drifts off, Paige stands up and takes your hand, leading you out of the room. She closes the door quietly, turning to you with a tired but contented smile. “Let’s eat,” she says softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as you head to the kitchen.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

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ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

Jisung was always the one to make people laugh, to brighten the room with his energy and humor. His smile was contagious, his jokes quick, and his laughter a sound you cherished immensely. But what people didn’t see, what Jisung hid behind his laughter, was his fear - the constant nagging doubt that told him he wasn’t good enough. Sure people could tell he was an anxious mess. He talked about with Stays, opened up to many people about his anxiety. But few people truly understood what exactly was harbored within that.

You knew that information, of course. You’d been by his side long enough to see the cracks in his playful exterior; and even his anxious exterior. But even you hadn’t realized how deep those insecurities ran - you thought you did. But it wasn't until you accidentally hit a nerve you didn’t know was there that you understood the depth of it; maybe even deeper than anyone else did.

It was late at night, and you and Jisung were lying on the floor of his living room, watching music videos. It was something you often did when he needed to unwind after long studio sessions. He was particularly quiet tonight, though, his usual playfulness replaced by something more subdued.

“Are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently with your foot.

Jisung shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just tired.”

You weren’t convinced. “You sure? You’ve been kind of quiet all night. I miss hearing your voice, yeobo.”

He hesitated before finally sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling...off.”

You sat up, concerned. “Off how?” You paused the video you were watching and turned all of your attention to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up too, and running a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” you said softly, encouraging him to open up.

Jisung gave you a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling like...maybe I’m not doing enough? Like, no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough to be at the level I should be. I see the other guys, and sometimes it feels like they’re ahead of me in everything. Better rappers, better singers...even better at being funny.”

You frowned, surprised at the confession. “Jisung, that’s not true. You’re amazing at all those things.” You knew first hand. You got to see all of that up close while being held in his arms, while kissing him goodbye, or cuddling. You got to see him for him...yet he couldn't even see himself?

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You hated seeing him like this, so wrapped up in his doubts that he couldn’t see how talented he truly was. But you didn't know if anything you would say would make it better. So, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, at least you’ve got that cute quokka thing going for you, right? No one can beat you at that.”

It was meant to make him laugh, to break the tension. But instead, Jisung’s face fell, his expression crumbling in a way that made your heart stop.

"Bab-"

He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling you. “So, that’s it? I’m just the cute, funny guy? That’s all people see?” His boba eyes met yours in a frantic worry.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Jisung, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“But that’s what you said!” he snapped, his voice rising, something sharp and hurt laced in every word. “I’m just the guy people laugh at. The one who makes everyone else look better because I’m the ‘funny one.’ The one who is always anxious and pitied! I’m not taken seriously. Not by you, not by anyone.” He cried.

“That’s not true!” you protested, standing up and reaching out for him, but he pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracked, and you could see the vulnerability behind the anger. “You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a joke?Something to pity?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jisung, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean-”

“I can’t do this right now,” he interrupted, his tone flat, as if he was trying to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. “I need to be alone.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, speechless and devastated. The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and you were left with the echo of your words - the ones you hadn’t meant to say, the ones that had hurt him so deeply.

You sank down in front his door, wanting to be near him even in the slightest sense. The tears you held finally slipping down your cheeks. You had only wanted to make him smile, but instead, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurities. And now, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

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ᖴEᒪI᙭

Felix was like the sun. His warmth radiated from every word, every smile, every laugh. Being around him was like basking in the glow of a never-ending summer day. But what people didn’t realize, what Felix kept hidden so well, was the fear that lingered just beneath the surface - the fear that, no matter how bright he tried to shine, the shadows would always be there.

You and Felix had been inseparable for months. It wasn’t just his warmth that drew you to him; it was the way he made everything feel lighter, easier. He was the light in your life, and you were sure you were the same for him. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

But that night, something shifted.

It had been a long day for both of you, and Felix had been uncharacteristically solemn. He’d barely said anything since you arrived at his apartment, his usual playfulness replaced with a strange tension that had settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, huddled up in a blanket due to the freezing living room; product of your broken heater, but his focus was elsewhere. He kept fidgeting, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Lix, are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched slightly at your touch, pulling his arm away before giving you a tight smile, and then in regret letting his arm rest into yours slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the Felix you knew. He'd never flinch at your touch or pull away; rather the opposite. Normally, he’d be snuggling up against you, cracking jokes, or commenting on the movie, but tonight he was distant, like he was somewhere far away.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, concern lacing your voice. “You’ve seemed off all day, love.”

Felix shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine, really.” His lips were turned downwards, his eyes not looking as bright as they usually did.

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t want to push too hard. So, you tried to lighten the mood instead, hoping to bring back the Felix you knew. “Maybe you’re just tired of hearing me talk. I mean, you’ve been so quiet tonight, maybe I’ve been boring you to death.” You took a breath and straightened your posture. "I'll stop yapping if you want some quiet. I wouldn't want to rain on the sunshine boy's day." You said patting his head, but he pulled away harshly this time.

It was meant as a joke, something playful to ease the tension. But the second the words left your mouth, Felix’s face changed. His expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, startling you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What? No, I was just joking, Lix-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not funny,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “Maybe I’m not in the mood to laugh right now.”

Your heart sank at the sight of him standing there, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. You hadn’t meant to upset him - you had just been trying to make things better, but it was clear now that you’d only made them worse.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, standing up and reaching for him, but Felix stepped back, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s about everything.”

“Everything?” you repeated, your voice small. “Felix, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong? Are we breaking up?”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so wrong coming from him. “It’s about how no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ or ‘sunshine,’ never anything else. Just that. Never enough.”

“Felix, you’re more than enough,” you said, your voice shaking as you stepped closer to him. “You’re amazing in every way-” You didn't know what he was talking about. What did he mean by "never enough"? What did he mean by "just that"?

“Am I?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m just here to make everyone else feel better. Like I’m only worth something because I’m the one always smiling, always making everyone laugh. But what happens when I’m not? What happens when I can’t be that ‘sunshine’ everyone expects me to be? Then what?”

His words hit you hard, and for the first time, you could see how much weight Felix had been carrying. He had always been the bright one, the happy one, the one who brought light into any room. But beneath that light was a darkness he’d kept hidden, a fear of never being seen for who he truly was.

“Felix, that’s not true,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took another step toward him. “You’re not just some...some image of sunshine to me. You’re so much more than that.” Your eyes were watery and you tried to stay strong and blink the tears away. You rubbed your face and sniffed, trying to wipe the beginning flow of a stream of snot. "I...love you for much more than that..."

But Felix didn’t seem to hear you. He was lost in his own thoughts, spiraling further into his insecurities, and you could see the hurt etched on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his eyes dark with frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you could become useless any second; to go from enough to not enough in an instant - to feel like the only thing you’re good at is pretending everything’s fine. And that that is the only reason people like you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you say to make him believe you? To make him see that he was more than enough, that his value didn’t depend on always being the happy one?

“I’m tired,” Felix finally whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m tired of pretending. I'm tired of everything, to be honest.”

The vulnerability in his words broke your heart, and you reached out for him again, this time gently taking his hand in yours. But Felix didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to face you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You didn't want to break up. Ever. “Please, Lixxie talk to me?" Your voice was hanging by a thread.

One that was instantly snapped as Felix didn’t respond, just pulling his hand away from yours, his body tense with a pain you couldn’t reach. And without even a final glance, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the cold room and a silence that rivaled it.

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ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

Seungmin had always been known for his calm demeanor and quiet strength. He didn’t outwardly seek attention like others, but his presence was undeniable - a steadying force in any storm. He someone people could rely on, the one who would always be there, quietly doing his best.

But there were things Seungmin never said out loud, things he buried beneath his composed exterior.

Lately, you had noticed a shift in him. The small, easy moments you used to share had been replaced by a distance you couldn’t quite explain. His responses were shorter, his smiles less frequent, and though he never said it, something was clearly weighing on him.

You were worried about it. Your two-year anniversary around the corner, and it made you wonder if he was considering ending things. Maybe he was tired of you?

It had been another long day at the dorm, and you were hanging out with Seungmin in the living room, just trying to enjoy some downtime. But there was an unspoken tension between you, and every attempt at conversation seemed to hit a wall.

“Seungmin, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. He had been so quiet lately, and you were worried that something was wrong. "Did I do something to upset you?"

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but there was a slight edge to his voice, one you hadn’t heard from him before. "And no, you didn't."

You frowned, not convinced. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed really distant lately...like something’s bothering you. And- And I just wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally hurt your feelings or something...”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

But you knew it wasn’t nothing. There was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you hated feeling like you were being shut out. Seungmin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he had never been this distant before.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said gently, trying to reach him. “But I’m here if you need to talk. You don’t have to handle everything on your own, you know?”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then his walls came back up. He shrugged, giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m handling it.”

That was when the frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t angry at him, but the distance he was creating hurt, and you didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

In simplest terms: he was scaring you.

“Seungmin, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine all the time.”

Seungmin’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes - something like hurt, or maybe frustration. But it disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, but there was a coldness in his voice now.

You didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t just sit there and pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You couldn't let whatever was bothering him fester even more; because if that would result in the end of your relationship than you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for not trying to save it. “It feels like you’re shutting me out, Seungmin. And I don’t know why.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to respond, he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I am shutting you out.”

The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, but when they finally sank in, your heart dropped.

“What?” you whispered, standing up to face him. “Seungmin, why...why won't you just explain to me what I did?”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not who everyone thinks I am."

"Min what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing-"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Seungmin’s eyes were dark with frustration now, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually calm demeanor. “Because maybe I don't want to tell you!" He shouts.

The weight of his words hit you like a semi.

“Seungmin, whatever is wrong please- tell me,” you said quickly, taking a step closer to him. "We're supposed to rely on each other in times like these. You can rely on me just like I can rely on you-"

But before you could finish, Seungmin cut you off, his voice laced with bitterness. “Isn't that the problem?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. "I'm the reliable one? So much so that I'm known as the quiet one who is always there when people need him? Like need him need him?"

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump forming in your chest. You had no idea he felt this way, no idea he had been struggling with this sense of invisibility.

Was that what he was struggling with?

Because for some reason you felt as if it was much more than what you were assuming. But maybe your assumption was correct?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching for him, but Seungmin took a step back, shaking his head. "If you feel invisible-"

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I need...I just need some space right now. I don't think you could even understand if I tried to explain.”

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the suffocating silence, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

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ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

You’d always admired Jeongin for his youthful spirit and the way he managed to balance the pressures of his career with a bright, playful attitude. But beneath that light-hearted exterior, you knew there were layers to him - things he didn’t always reveal. His role as the youngest in Stray Kids often came with expectations that weighed heavily on him, but Jeongin rarely spoke about it unless he was feeling vulnerable.

Today had been one of those days where he seemed a bit quieter than usual. You had both decided to hang out at the dorm, hoping to unwind after his busy schedule. Everything was normal, at first. You were teasing him about his latest performance, laughing about something silly he did on stage. He had been smiling, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that made you pause.

"You're so lucky, Innie," you said without thinking, the words slipping out as you laughed. "Everyone always loves the maknae. You get all the attention without even trying." It was true.

He didn't even try catching your attention, but the minute you saw him you had an unmistakable attraction; an irrepressible pull to him.

Jeongin's smile faltered, his dimple disappearing, and his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual for him. You realized too late that what you’d said had hit a nerve. You had only meant it as a lighthearted comment, but there was an underlying truth to it that stung.

"Innie?" you asked cautiously, your laughter fading as you noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Jeongin stood up slowly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair. His movements were tense, his back rigid as he faced the wall.

"Jeongin...what's wrong?" you asked softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it’s lucky? Being the youngest, being the one everyone looks at like I’m some kind of...kid."

Your heart dropped. "No, I didn’t mean it like that baby I mean-"

"But that’s what you think, right?" Jeongin interrupted, his voice quiet, but hardening. He turned to face you, and you were taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. "You think because I’m the maknae, I don’t have to try? That everything’s just handed to me? Because thats what you make it seem like..."

The guilt washed over you in waves. You had never imagined that your words would trigger something so deep, but now you could see just how much he had been holding in. Jeongin had always laughed off his role as the youngest, but now you realized it had weighed on him far more than you knew.

"Jeongin, that’s not what I think at all," you said, your voice trembling with regret, and your bottom lip turning downwards. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like that."

He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard it is to be seen as a kid all the time? No matter what I do, people look at me like I’m just the cute, young one. Like I can’t be serious, like I don’t work as hard as everyone else."

You could feel the pain behind his words, and it broke your heart. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t know you felt this way."

Jeongin shook his head, stepping back as if he didn’t want you to get too close. "Of course you didn’t," he muttered bitterly. "Because I don’t talk about it. I don’t complain. I just...deal with it. And if it comes up I just laugh it off because I'm a kid. That's all my hyungs see and all the fans see and all you see."

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The silence between you felt heavy, and you didn’t know how to fix what you had unintentionally broken. You had hurt him, and you weren’t sure if he would let you in to make it right.

"Maybe I should go," Jeongin said suddenly, his voice cold and distant.

Panic rose in your chest- did you mess everything up? Did something you see as a small issue snowball into a major catalyst of your happiness? "No, wait-"

But before you could stop him, Jeongin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His retreating figure left you standing there, feeling helpless, your heart aching with guilt. You had never seen him like this - so vulnerable, so fragile. And it was your words that had caused those cracks to appear.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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[celesteleoves]

“YOU CAN LAUGH?”

RYOMEN SUKUNA X reader

summary: in which, sukuna rarely shows his emotions but you caught him laughing, much to his dismay.

warnings: swearing, mentions of killing (jokes made by sukuna), fluff, A LOADDDD OF DIALOGUE!!. ooc sukuna… this was not proofread.

-

“was that a laugh?” you stared at sukuna in shock, eyes wide with disbelief as the man beside you rolls his eyes.

“no, i don’t know what you are talking about.”

“you just did! ryomen, i can still see a smile on your face right now.”

he turns his head away from the tv infront of you two that blasted some hallmark movie that you two lazily put on, just to make fun of it. it was mostly you cracking jokes, sukuna calling you stupid, and you laughing at your own jokes.

until now you noticed you weren’t the only one who laughed at your jokes, you swear sukuna laughed! he can deny it all he wants but a chuckle did in fact leave his mouth.

truth be told, he never shows any happy emotions, he is always stoic or saying a remark that will leave everyone running away from him in a second.

“no. i never laugh around you, you are not that amusing.”

“don’t try and deny it ryomen, i see your eyes sparkle when you find something amusing.”

“you are incredibly delusional.”

“no- hey! you’re smiling!”

“you must be hallucinating.”

a small smile was present for a split second on sukuna’s face before he masked it with a grimace and a retort back to your comments.

“you are imagining things, y/n.”

“i saw that hint of a smirk, you can not fool me.”

“my face is incapable of such emotions, you must be tired.”

you turned in your seat to squint your eyes at him, he won’t ever admit it! if he says he laughed, it’ll hurt his pride. now, you just have to pester him and hope he laughs again.

“well, sukuna, your face needs some training because it definitely just betrayed you right now,”

“fine. i might’ve been a tad bit amused. don’t ever get used to it though.”

“too late. i’m gonna do everything in my power to make you laugh so hard you won’t be able to breathe!”

“you know what else will make it hard to breathe?”

“what?”

“me suffocating you.”

“i’d like that-”

“no.”

you grinned at him as he scowled you, man, he can be quite moody sometimes. now you’re starting to believe he can’t laugh or be nice EVER. you like a little challenge, though.

“i can make you laugh so hard you’ll snort.”

“oh yeah? snort? that’s different. go ahead, try.” he challenged you, a barely visible smirk present on his face that you ALMOST missed.

“oh, i will. just wait. don’t say i didn’t warn you when you snort!” you pause and noticed the barely visible hint of amusement on his face, “see! i can see you beginning to smile already.”

“i find you amusing but that does not mean anything.”

“oh, really sukuna? to me, it means the whole universe! you’re beautiful eyes that gleam, your smile, your perfect pearly whites, the deep chortle you let out rambunctiously; it’s the key to my heart!” you exaggerate your words, adding unnecessary points that even have you cringing at your words as you try to ignite a reaction out of him.

“trying to charm me, huh? laying it on thick aren’t you.”

“i have a way with words, you can’t resist my allure and attractiveness that spills from them.”

he stares at you in confusion and amusement, what are you even doing?

“don’t flatter yourself too much, brat. it takes a while for me to be swayed.”

“i’m aware of your stubbornness, trust me. i won’t stop though, it’s entertaining watching you struggle to hold your breathe trying not to laugh.”

“you like watching me suffocate? that’s sadistic.”

“look who’s talking now.”

“alright. you cannot get me to laugh, if you can’t tell already. give up now.”

“no! never, not until i’ve made you laugh and gained your love.”

“my love?- whatever, nice try, flirt. your charm isn’t working.”

you roll your eyes and push his shoulder teasingly, a smile already on your face as you turn away from sukuna to grab a drink.

little do you know, the man beside you is grinning secretly, letting out a quiet laugh at your previous conversation.

he also enjoyed the compliments, he won’t tell you that though.

-

a/n: this got cut short :( i was going to make it longer but it was 2:14 am when i made this. anyways, i hope it was alright and this was just a tester so i could try and see how i liked writing sukunas character!

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍

[withloveajaxx]

are you forgetting something?

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scaramouche, diluc, and xiao x gn! reader fluff

𓂅 warnings: none 

𓂅 summary: how they react when you forget to kiss them or say "i love you" back to them before you leave 

𓂅 notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEE. here's some smol hcs to kick off 2023 hehe. i've never really written for scaramouche before so forgive me if his characterization is a little off for this fic :"D i'm trying to slowly get back into writing for genshin so i'm going with a classic, fluffy crack prompt that i've always felt like writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy and have a wonderful day ahead!! 

CHILDE

he's dropping you off at your friend's house for your little night out and your rushing to belatedly make yourself a little more presentable 

childe can't help but chuckle when you turn to him asking, "what do you think? do i look alright?" 

"you look beautiful as always, love. now go get in there before your late."

he leans his cheek closer to you, expecting a goodbye peck when you open the door to get out. "take care and call me when you need to get picked up, alright?" when you hum in response he adds, "love you!" 

"yup! see you, ajax!" you reply, getting out and shutting the door. at this, childe is offended, jaw dropping at the lack of a reply and a kiss. 

he thinks this is completely unacceptable. mans literally honks his horn aggressively until you come back to the car, brows furrowed in wordless confusion. 

"excuse me?" he questions you, rolling down the window with a faux pout on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. "are you forgetting something?" 

cheeky bastard taps his cheek with raised brows in part question and part demand. "i said i love you too, you know?" 

you can't help but laugh at his absurd behaviour, leaning into the window to finally plant a kiss on his awaiting cheek. his charming smile finally makes its way back onto his features when you accompany your gesture with a, "love you too." 

"mhm. now get in there and have fun. i'll see you later, love.". he can't help the slight blush that dusts his freckle filled cheeks when you peck him one last time, just for good measure, before heading inside the house. god he was so whipped for you. 

SCARAMOUCHE

when you're rushing to leave your shared apartment for a class you were running late for one day, scara is suffering on the couch with his laptop on, research document open and empty. 

he eyes you as you're rushing to gather all your bags and other belongings, making sure you don't trip or hurt yourself in a rush from a distance. 

once you finally have all your things, you turn to see scara, who is already glaring at the blank document on his laptop. 

in usual fashion, he hears you greet him a goodbye with, "i'm heading out now. see you later, kuni." 

in an unusual fashion however, he doesn't hear the familiar and cheerful "i love you!" that escapes your lips once you open the door. 

he coughs loudly and repeatedly when you put even a single foot out the door and levels you with a look that screams "are you stupid?" 

"what?" you ask him obliviously, rechecking all your bags and documents before also asking, "am i forgetting something?"

"yeah. a really important thing," he comments with an unreadably, deadpan face. when a confused silence is all he gets in reply, he sighs, narrowing his eyes at you with a light blush blooming across his cheeks.

"don't make me say it.". it's only then that you realize what you forgot, smiling and laughing lightheartedly with amusement. 

"you're cute kuni." his cheeks flush brighter at the statement. "i love you and take care!". he returns your greeting with an exasparated sigh and a light nod before you go rushing out the door, unable to witness the smallest smile that creeps onto his lips.

DILUC

it's a daily routine for you guys to get ready for school/work together and greet each other with a goodbye kiss once you part ways. 

on a particular day when you had a really important presentation, the walk to your usual parting point was enveloped in a comfortable silence. 

diluc simply held your hand and let you practice your presentation, muttering unintelligible words and phrases under your breath. 

when you finally get to parting ways, diluc takes a moment to encourage you for your presentation. 

"good luck with your speech today, darling. i know you can do it. i'll see you when i get home alright?"

you nod absentmindedly, smiling before routinely pecking diluc's cheek. "mhm. have a good day, luc." 

when you start to walk away, he grabs your wrist gently and unexpectedly, turning you to face him once more. 

"yes, luc?" you ask curiously, intertwining your fingers with his own gingerly. 

"you're forgetting something, love," he chuckles lightly, squeezing your intertwined hands gently. "i love you." 

a soft smile adorns both your features as you give diluc a lingering kiss before replying with your own "i love you", regrettingly parting ways afterwards. 

XIAO

both you and xiao are walking into the school's campus. after a mundane lunch, it was time for both of you to part ways and get to classes. 

he accompanies you to your class, walking with you hand in hand in the school's surprisingly free hallways.

the short stroll is accompanied by a comfortable silence, the lack of a crowd of students creating a peaceful atmosphere. 

it's only when you arrive at your lecture hall that xiao loosens his hold on your hand, gesturing for you to go inside. 

your friends are excitedly waving at you from the other side of the hall, thus you hurry to get to them.

"i'll see you later, okay?" you squeeze his hand reassuringly before looking at your friends with a glimmer of excitement. "bye, xiao!" 

the moment you let go of his hand without your usual goodbye kiss or at least an 'i love you', his hand subconsciously reaches out for yours once again. 

thankfully, you take notice of his action and turn to him once more with a quizzical look on your face. "is something wrong?" you ask him.

he wants to say something about you forgetting to give him a kiss but the thought of saying something so sappy makes his face heat up in embarrassment. you can tell he wants to say something by the unsure look in his eyes, but he holds himself back, shaking his head. "nothing. you should head to class." 

the blush gives him off entirely because you can read him like an open book. his heart skips multiple beats when you lean in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek with a wide smile. "there. love you, and see you later, okay?". his cheeks flare up even more as he replies, "mhm. love you too…"

© withloveajaxx 2023. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

[nurse-floyd]

Head Over Handlebars

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: minor mentions of blood and injury.

Taglist: @vivwritesfics @pretzelcat4-blog @thehopingfairy @biancathecool @adventuringblind

The sun was just rising in the sky, casting a warm glow over the suburban streets of Oscar’s home. Oscar had decided on a bike ride, and you being excited he was home and wanting to spend as much time with him as possible, had decided to join him. The pair of you pedaled along together side by side chatting with each other and just enjoying life. Well, that’s how the ride had started off. Oscar, ever the racer, couldn’t stay at the slow and easy pace and ended up ahead of you, glancing back every so often to check you were still with him. It was peaceful, you loved days like this with him. 

“Come on slowcoach, keep up!” He yelled behind him, teasing you and egging you on slightly to try and add some excitement to the ride.  

You shook your head, determined to not let him beat you. “You’re on Piastri!” you yelled back as you pedaled faster to catch up with him. You eventually did, passing him by with a slightly maniacal laugh. He sped up too, the pair of you side by side again but this time it was not the leisurely ride you’d started off on. A hill came up and neither of you slowed down, laughing as the wind whipped past your fast, everything was perfect. The adrenaline, the scenery rushing by, Oscar laughing by your side once more. 

But it all changed in a moment. 

As the road began to even out, your tire caught in a crack in the road. Your bike jerked violently beneath you, but the momentum had your body continuing forward as you flew over the handlebars. Time seemed to slow down as you were flung forward. There was no time to protect yourself as you slammed into the floor, your body skidding across the hard tarmac until you finally came to a stop. Pain. 

That was the first thing you registered. Pain so overwhelming it was hard to catch your breath, although you weren’t sure how much of that was the impact. You tried to push yourself up but your arms were shaking so violently with the adrenaline. You felt sick. You looked down, seeing the palms of your hands and knees raw and bleeding from the impact. The sight of the blood had tears spilling over as you cried out in pain, a mixture of pain and shock overwhelming you.  

“O-Oscar!” You called out. 

It felt like an eternity but in reality the whole incident happened in seconds. Oscar was there in an instant, his bike abandoned on the side of the road as he ran to your side and dropped to his knees beside you. 

Oscar’s hands hovered over you, as if he was afraid to touch you, not wanting to cause you more pain. He was calm, Oscar always was. A bomb could go off and you’re sure he wouldn’t even flinch. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the panic clouding your mind. “You’re okay.” 

“I-It hurts,” you managed to choke out between hiccuping sobs. 

“I know,” he murmured, holding you as gently as he could to not jostle your injuries further, “but you’re okay. Let’s get you off the road, alright? Think you can walk?” He asked, wanting to get you to a safer spot. 

You nodded and he carefully helped you up to your feet, his hands firmly on your arms in case you lost your balance or became dizzy. The pain was bad, but his grip was strong as you let him support you and guide you over to the pavement. Once he had you settled down, he got a better look at you. 

“Th-there’s so much blood,” you stammered as you looked at the blood dripping down your knees and the scrapes that were stinging as they were exposed to air. The sight and the shock had you feeling nauseous and Oscar didn’t miss the way your face had paled. 

“You’re safe,” he replied, his voice steady, “I’m right here. Can you take a deep breath for me?” 

You tried but stuttered as another hiccuping sob wracked your body. 

“That’s good, just like that. Can you try again?” He took in a deep breath of his own for you to follow. 

It took a few minutes, but you eventually were able to breathe a little steadier and were no longer on the verge of passing out. 

”Good,” he praised, “do you think I can get a look at your cuts?” 

You nodded and winced as he gently lifted your hands, examining the scrapes there. He gently turned your arm to get a look at the scrapes on your elbows and then turned his attention to your knees. He thanked the stars his mum had insisted on the pair of them wearing their helmets, despite his eye roll and groan. His touch was so gentle as he examined every part of your body that’d hid the ground. 

He knew right away you wouldn’t be able to ride back, even if your bike hadn’t been damaged in the incident. “I’m going to call mum, okay? She’ll pick us up.” He sat by your side, his arm protectively around your shoulders as you leaned into him. “I’ve got you,” he said, as he rubbed his hand up and down your arms in a comforting manner. “Mum’s on her way. She’ll be here any minute.” 

It wasn’t long before the sound of a car approaching had you both snapping your heads up towards that direction. Oscar’s mum was out of the floor in an instant, her face filled with concern as she ran over and joined your side next to Oscar. “Oh sweetheart,” Nicole said as she got a look at you, “let’s get you home and get you cleaned up.” 

When the three of you finally pulled up at home, Oscar and his mum helped you inside where she sat you at the kitchen table as she got the first aid kit. You winced as she dabbed at your cuts and scrapes with antiseptic, but she was gentle and soon with your wounds bandaged and the help of some pain medication, the pain began to subside. Oscar didn’t leave your side the entire time, holding your hand and distracting you whenever you needed. 

As soon as his mum had finished, Oscar replaced her position in front of you as he gently wiped the last of your tears and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulled you up into a hug and held you there for a few seconds, just breathing you in. 

“How the hell do you stay so calm all the time, Osc?” You asked him, nestled against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. 

Oscar smiled softly, “I had to be calm for you, but believe me I was freaking out on the inside.” 

It wasn’t the first time people had said Oscar was calm or didn’t react when others normally would. He’d been called rude, mean and even heartless before. 

He reached for his phone, tapping on the screen a few times before he pulled up the app that connected to the heart rate monitor he usually wore around his chest when he worked out. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw the data from your ride. The graph showed a steady line around the time the two of you were out, before it spiked dramatically and shot up beyond his usual workout baseline and mirrored the panic you’d felt at the time. 

“See, I was a mess,” he said with a small laugh. 

“Well, at least we can prove to anyone who’s said otherwise that you do have a heart, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.” 

He shook his head as he led you over to the sofa and wrapped you in one of their soft blankets. He took the seat next to you and wrapped his arms around you comfortingly, careful not to hurt you any further. No matter how calm and composed he seemed on the outside, you knew how much you meant to him and how much he loved you. 

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[yrqrnc]

nct 127 reaction . . . you not saying i love you back !

pairing: 127 x reader

genre: fluff, crack, y/n pranking the boys <\3

a/n: i am one year late, but here’s the 127 version! i am so sorry for being so dead here. can’t promise i will be active again, but here is something for now.

if you haven’t yet, check out the dreamies version of this — here ! please enjoy, maybe reblog it too? <3

TAEIL

ngl he just kind of freezes and gets embarrassed even though he did nothing wrong 😭

like, he’s got that shaking-eyes and cold sweat thing going on and he’s fighting a war in his head as he tries to recall how he happened to wrong you today

but he didn’t ????? and he’s so confused

he's all like "should i say it again? did they not hear me—?"

so then, comes another "*clears throat in that father way* um, hey..? i love you (?)"

and still no response bcs you’re evil.

then he actually gets so panicked bcs WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING IT BACK THIS TIME

best believe he'll be asking you if he did something wrong and upset you somehow and all those innocent questions until you feel so bad for doing this to him

JOHNNY

is offended.

no genuinely, once he knows you’re not saying it back, he's just standing there like 🧍🏼

gives you a FULL ON side eye— actually, no it's not even side, baby, he's giving you a full on FULL EYE 👁👁

"hey, i said something."

and you’re just trying to play it off and continue with the prank and act like this stare-down thing he's doing is not affecting you

but... come on man who are you trynna fool 😭

eventually, it ends up with him trapping you in them bulky ass muscle-ly arms and not letting you breathe until you give him what he wants 🥰

now depends on you how long you can fight the suffocation of his biceps 💪🏼

TAEYONG

oMYGOD no bcs he WAITS so devastatingly for you to say it back, because he genuinely believes you’re gonna say it back :((((

and then a whole fucking minute passes, and you're still going about your business like you ain't even heard him

and his mind is like ❓️❓️❓️❓️☹️❓️❓️☹️❓️☹️❓️☹️❓️☹️❓️☹️❓️☹️❓️❓️☹️☹️☹️☹️

and he's so sweet he says it aGAIN in such a soft manner

"i love you :("

and your bitchass is strong enough to continue with your act so you're all like "mmhm you're getting late for the meeting taeyong"

now okay, the i love you avoidance was eNOUGH and you just go ahead and call him with his government name

THE LOOK ON HIS FACE

when i say, THE LOOK ON HIS FACE 😠😠‼️‼️‼️ AND YOU CAUSED IT

he gets so sad but he doesn’t even know what to do, so he just murmurs a tiny "oh ok." and just sadly grabs his bag and walks out the door

and tHEN you rush out to grab him before he actually leaves upset, and press kisses against his face as you laUGH (how dare u😟) and tell him you were just pranking him

now watch him ignore you for his own satisfaction lmao

(pls don’t do this to him it was physically hard to write it☹️)

YUTA

you gotta have some guts for this lmao

he knows you’re playing (or atleast that’s what he wants to believe)

in the back of his mind, he’s lowkey worried if you’re hurt or upset because of anything he did but no one knows that, no one talks about that 🥰

he’s like "oh, alright. this how we gon' play?" and you’re just fighting for your life, trying to hide the deceiving grin climbing up your face

and purposefully, to tease you, he goes "nevermind whatever i said, i take it back actually—" and now YOU'RE offended bcs???? no???? that's not how it was supposed to go

oh, how the turn tables 👹👹👹

DOYOUNG

gets offended (pt 2) but in a less sassy way than mr. johnny

in his mind, he's thinking "the audacity??? not saying it back???? to me????"

and even though he's irritated (lovingly) by you, he says it just once more incase you missed it

but no, still no reply. and he just huffs and you can hear him go like "fine." under his breath 😭

doesn’t even bother giving you any further reactions lmao

he just goes about his business and acts like you don’t exist bcs you didn’t say it back, like, why didn’t you say it back 🙄

then you get so disappointed bcs??? hello where's the dramatic reaction i (you) wanted???

and so you walk up to him and you're like "you were supposed to react better"

and he gets 10x more offended like,,, REACT???? YOU LET ME SAY A ONE-SIDED I LOVE YOU FOR SOME REACTION???

might jump you, gawk at you or ignore you depending on his mood <3

JAEHYUN

he just finds it funny tbh 😭

like, what is this kid trynna do lmao😹😹😹 (irrespective of whether you're older or younger, bcs you’ll always be his baby<3)

gives you a kiss on the cheek and that dad laugh of his

he can’t even get mad honestly, he just thinks you’re cute lol

and then you get lowkey embarrassed and highkey upset bcs you didn’t get the reaction you wanted

but he knows just how to make you nvm that shit cause he pulls up with the "what do you want for dinner? chicken wings? dumplings?"

and your mind just goes "OH FOOD 😁‼️" like,, prank??? what prank???

JUNGWOO

depending on his mood, he can either get really sulky or he can be really random w his reaction🧍🏻‍♀️

if he's feeling soft that day, then he’ll get sulky and really pouty (on purpose ofcccc)

would probably fake-cry and start wailing real loud that you don’t love him anymore 😭

on the other handdd, if he’s feeling playful when you pull this shit, then...

things might take a different turn

might start throwing cringe and corny pickup lines to get your attention 💀

oRRRR/and he might just give you that smug look of his and start saying some really random shit like "they love me so much, they can't find good enough words to express it 😁🥰"

like BOIII WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM WHAt are you talking— 😭😭

MARK

find his reaction here !

HAECHAN

find his reaction here !

© 2022 YRQRNC ─ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[do not copy, translate or repost my work anywhere as yours.]

[suuuupernovaaa]

Hello ! May I ask for a Neteyam x Metkaniya reader, daughter of Ronal and Tonowari, and they hate each other so much the entire clan k’ows them for their arguments, and there is kinda a annual celebration but no one wants to dance with her due to her temper and being the oldest terrifying daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. So Neteyam go ask her for a dance, to the surprise of everyone himself first ?

Bonus points if you could add their families reactions :)

Yes! And for anyone wanting to read, I wrote this for Ao’nung a while ago.

Honestly, I had never been much of a dancer. I learned the dances with the other kids when I was young, and learned how to play the drums and sing our songs, but something about the steps just didn’t connect for me.

I always ended up feeling awkward and self-conscious on the dance floor, and that was a feeling I didn’t tolerate well. Since childhood, I’d made it my goal to excel at everything I tried, so failing at this one thing made me want to avoid it at all costs.

Once a year, however, there was a giant solstice celebration that I was always unable to avoid. No one missed the feast and the dancing, especially the chief’s eldest daughter.

So there I stood, on the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the night to end.

There was another element to the dancing that I was not fond of: men did not approach me. Not on the beach, not in the surf, not anywhere, and especially not to ask for a dance.

My temper was to blame, I was sure, paired with being the daughter of the chief. The combination made me unapproachable, my sister informed me constantly, and his arrival had not helped. Something about the eldest Sully got under my skin immediately upon his arrival to our home.

Neteyam.

Just his name made me want to roll my eyes. I’d been more angry, irritable and unapproachable since he’d joined us. It was so hard to place my finger on what, exactly, bothered me… unless I truly wanted to be honest with myself.

But that was hard.

If I was going to crack open that truth and take a hard look, I’d have to deal with the fact that when I met him, he was the first man I’d ever found myself truly interested in, and the fact that he seemed to find me as insufferable as all the rest of the men here not only angered me, but it hurt deeply.

I had never wanted anyone to like me before, and the fact that he didn’t cut like a knife.

The night was drawing to a close and I was considering leaving early. No one had so much as glanced my way all evening, and the scowl on my face wasn’t helping.

My mother and father, perched and observing, weren’t looking at me - and I knew this would be my only chance to escape. I turned to leave quietly, but someone cleared their throat ahead of me.

Neteyam.

For once, I tried not to frown as he stood before me. With great effort, I softened my gaze.

Did he have to be so handsome? With such a bright smile, and kind disposition? Would it kill him to be a little ugly and rude?

He extended a hand to me, and I gazed at him with wide eyes.

“Dance?” he asked simply, and without a word, I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the crowded dance floor.

He took both my hands into his, and pulled me close. “I am not a very good dancer,” I admitted, suddenly very nervous to be on display this way.

Heads were turning, eyes prying, and I felt exposed.

Neteyam just shrugged, a small grin on his face. “That’s okay. I don’t know your dances.”

We began to move, and I tried to lead the steps, but it had been so long, and I’d never cared to learn them well.

After a few unsuccessful beats, Neteyam took the lead from me, pushing and pulling and spinning me around in a dance I did not know.

As he spun me away from him, then pulled me back to his chest, a laugh escaped my throat. I felt lighter. It felt so nice, so unbelievably nice, to be around him and not be arguing.

He beamed down at me with pride in his eyes. “You lied. You’re a great dancer.”

A blush threatened to creep across my cheeks as I grinned at him. “You’re just a good partner.”

He twirled us around, stepping backwards and then left, and wrapped his arm around my waist. Leaning in, he spoke into my ear, “You are the most beautiful woman here.”

My heart began thudding and my tongue went dry. Where was this coming from? Didn’t Neteyam hate me, like they all did?

I stared up at him curiously. “But you don’t like me,” I replied.

He frowned. “I liked you from the moment I saw you. I just didn’t know how to tell you, and then you started fighting with me all the time.”

“Oh,” I said flatly.

It was defensiveness, I knew. I had assumed Neteyam would not be interested, and so I made it clear that I myself wasn’t interested before he could reject me. A snide comment here, a disapproving glance there, and I had all but tried to make him my enemy.

I wrapped my hand around his neck, pulling him down close to me. “I’m sorry. I like you, too, from the day you arrived. I just don’t know how to show it.”

He smiled, his nose mere inches from mine. “We will work on it together.”

xx

“Holy shit,” Jake muttered under his breath for only his wife to hear, and she turned her head to follow his gaze.

On the dance floor, their eldest son was locked in a tight embrace with the chief’s eldest daughter, big grins on both their faces.

“I thought they hated each other,” Tonowari said, standing up to join the Sully parents.

“Me too,” Jake said, chuckling.

Neytiri and Ronal shared a glance. “The line between love and hate is quite thin,” Neytiri shared.

“And our daughter is not a simple girl who wears her feelings for all to see. It took your son long enough to notice how she felt.”

The fathers, dumbfounded, exchanged a glance at each other, before all four turned their attention back to their children, just in time to see them slip away from the dance floor, hand in hand.

[w3irdo666]

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

PART 1/ PART 2/ PART 3

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!reader

Letter count:2666

Warnings: mention of depression, i dont think anything more.

Notes:I slightly changed the course of events to make it more convenient to write, sorry!!!

Two angels were sitting on a bench in a small garden filled with different types of flowers. In front of the bench there was a fountain with clear, almost mirror-like water, giving the air a slightly damp taste. “I...I’m not sure if I can...you don’t have to be on my side, my idea is stupid-” Lucifer didn’t have time to finish when his words were interrupted by the girl’s soft laugh. She smiled and took Lucifer’s hands in hers, soft as plushie, warm hands, making Lucifer's heart beat a little faster. "Don't worry Luci, I will always be by your side, no matter what happens. It's my decision and your idea is not stupid. If they don't hear you... It will only show their stupidity." Her calm, kind voice added confidence to Lucifer. He smiled and looked away for a few seconds, but then moved his gaze back to the girl next to him. "Yes, you're right.. Thank you." His eyes looked into yours, radiating warmth.Moving closer, the girl hugged Lucifer. It was a warm, encouraging hug. “I will always support you, no matter what. I will always be by your side.”

Lucifer's sad gaze was directed at the new rubber duck he had just made. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Small, clear as glass, tears formed in the corners of his eyes, remembering his last moments in heaven, before his expulsion. Y/n. This girl was his friend, always supported his idea, was ready to give every part of herself to support Lucifer. Where are she now? How is her life? Is she happy? He does not know. "I will always be by your side, no matter what." Lucifer sobbed, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his suit.These words are ingrained in his head. He no longer really remembers her face, but he definitely remembers how soft her hands were. Her radiant smile.. He almost forgot what her laughter sounds like.Her beautiful, plump scarlet lips, which he always wanted to know what they tasted like. She was a ray of light in the darkness. How beautiful her wings were when she flew with him...Years of suffering, loneliness, depression.. during all this time he tried forget about her, because thoughts about her hurt him even more....

Trying to distract himself, he started making rubber ducks, "how pathetic". He thought.

Somehow finding the strength to get up from his chair, the King of Hell headed to his bed. The bed cracked slightly, feeling the weight of his body when Lucifer fell onto the soft mattress of the bed.

"You can't just go ahead and banish him! How dare you!" Tears flowed down the girl’s cheeks, burning her skin. Her voice almost broke from screaming. But no one wanted to hear her. No one cared.

Lucifer turned over on his back, his gaze staring at the ceiling. He would have continued to lie in deathly silence if the silence had not been broken by the unexpected ringing of the phone, causing Lucifer to flinch. With a quick movement, he rose from the bed and grabbed the phone.

"Daughter..?.... Daughter! Daughter calling!" Seeing the contact's name, Lucifer's sad face burst into a joyful smile and he almost dropped his phone. Charlie, his daughter is calling him! After a slightly awkward conversation, he said that he would be at Charlie’s hotel in an hour. After hanging up, he took a deep breath and smiled. The sadness that had been gnawing at him a few minutes ago was put on the back burner...

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his strength. He would finally see his daughter, after a long time. He couldn't screw it up.

Part 2 in progress!! Hope you enjoyed!! :D

[chxrrydrxp]

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

(Jason x Dicks Ex! Reader)

blurb coming soon yall

word count: 1.3k

chapter 1

chapter 2

( reader is pissing me off like I know I made her but I'm really bouta rock her shit)

Jason shut the door behind him with a click. You sat back down on your couch, once again bringing your knees to your chest. “I'm fine Jason. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

He took a seat beside you, leaning comfortably on the soft cushions. You stared into your hands. A few minutes passed, and the silence between you began to make you fidgety. From the corner of your eye, you could see him mindlessly fumbling with your keys.

The silence burned a little longer until you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. “How long will it go on like this?” You questioned. Jason removed a keychain that had your initial and began prodding at it. “For as long as you let it,” he said with his eyes still on the letter.

You glanced over at him, trying to find something wrong with what he said. But you couldn't. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. “But I love him.” You felt him flinch for a second, but it must've been a shiver from the cold.

He finally turned to look at you, then slowly lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear. He leaned further into the cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Is love enough?” You sniffled and stood up from the couch. “I need some air, you wanna go for a walk?”

...

If there was one thing all Gothamites could agree on, it was that Gotham always looked better at night. At nights when you can't see the polluted air, and it's harder to see the trash flooding the sidewalks, or the occasional dead body that often gets mistaken for a hobo. Gotham had a beauty that few understood. Its beauty didn't come from the visible gap in the social hierarchy that kept the nightlife…relevant to say the least. Its beauty shines from the cracks. The little imperfections on the sidewalk allowed pretty flowers to bloom from within. The hidden alleys and caves are covered in spores and overgrown vines. Somehow you ended up stumbling past stubborn weeds in some wet alley that smelled of… never mind you didn't even wanna think about it. “Jason, what the hell is this?” You wiped your hands on your jacket.

“You'll see, just keep up. Oh, and watch your step or you might lose a leg. Potholes.” You blinked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck Jason? I said I wanted to go on a walk, not lose my leg.” He ignored you. “Found em.”

You made your way over to him, leaning over his shoulder. “What? mushrooms?” You glanced down at the far end of the stone alleyway. “All of this just to look at some mushrooms?”

“Not just any Mushrooms, they're luminous.” You turned his head over to look at you with your eyebrows furrowed. His oblivious expression instantly evaporated any frustration this trip brought you. “I can't with you…” You let out a soft laugh. “If this was your attempt to distract me from my recurring misery, it worked.” Jason grinned and kneeled to the family of mushrooms huddled in the moist corner. “Don't touch em’ they've got a sting that hurts like a bitch.” He pulled out a plastic bag and put on a leather glove. “What are you doing??” He broke the mushroom off from the stem. “Got a friend that's into this kinda stuff.”

“What..the..-" Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name set in the contact made your heart drop. Jason must've sensed your hesitation, because he added, “Go ahead.” You answered the phone, backing up behind a wall for privacy. “Dick?” No answer. You heard shuffling in the background, along with laughter. A woman's laughter. You repeated his name to no avail. You realized you recognized the female voice to be Dick's coworker.

The one who just happens to be the topic of your argument with him. You hung up the phone and stared at the other side of the mossy stone walls. You heard shuffling, and Jason came to stand in front of you, bag in hand. “You good?” “He's with her right now.

Guess he accidentally butt-dialed me. Huh. Maybe he did it on purpose. Perhaps to knock some obvious sense into my head.” Jason signed, running his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go find out?” Your heart sank. “W-what?” You questioned as if this wasn't exactly what you were thinking. the second he asked, you'd already decided what your answer was. You needed this.

You know you did. Maybe if you witnessed the cheating first-hand it'd give you the answer you begged from him. "What if they're just working, I can't just assume-.” Jason now stood closer, gripping your arm sleeve. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “I don't know what you're-” He gripped your arm tighter, but not enough to hurt you.

“Don't gimme that. What, you're gonna just ignore this one as well? We could go there right now. You'll finally be able to see it with your own eyes, and you're not gonna go?”

He didn't notice the tears that began quickly streaming down your cheeks. You fought to keep your voice steady. “I know. I know damn it. I just…can't.” He stared into your eyes for a hard minute, then dropped your hand. “Fuck it. Don't go then.

But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

You looked down at your feet, speechless. Jason sighed. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

Silence. The entire walk back home was filled with silence, all the way up until you both reached your front door. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding your eyes as you searched for any sympathy. “Jason.” He looked up, maintaining his silence. Maybe for a second he'd hoped you'd invite him in. Instead, “Please don't say anything to Dick. Just leave it alone, alright? Please.” He hated the desperation in your quivering voice. It sounded like you were on the brink of shattering into nothing. He simply nodded, and turned away. “Be safe,” was all he said before walking away. You shut your door, dropping your things to the floor and sitting at the dining room table. You hesitantly opened your phone, and to your surprise, saw a text from Dick.

Dick: hey, you awake? i wanna talk.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You opened the message and saw that he was typing.

Dick: can you come over?

So that's exactly what you did. You picked up your things, and walked out the door, not noticing Jason in the distance, leaning against the rusted bars that fenced your apartment.

tag list: @12134z03 @xxsweetnlowxx @broadwayotakufairy @harleycao @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @calicocat45

[takenbypeter]

Hi! I absolutely ADORE your Wonka fics 😍 can I request? I would love either a sick fic where the reader is sick and Willy takes care of her or one where she gets injured or faints or whatever

Or just a classic jealousy fic because we all know once his chocolate takes off Willy will be very popular with the ladies aha

Please and thank you I love everything you write btw

Envious; To Be Or Not To Be That Is The Question

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1164

Business was booming in the Wonka store.

People were constantly coming in and out and candy was practically flying off the shelves. Willy became busy working in his factory and his shop, but he still always had time for you and you were always grateful for that.

Honestly speaking, you expected this, I mean how could you not? His chocolate was so stupenderrific.

What you didn’t expect, or rather, what you forgot about was the popularity of not just the chocolate but of the man behind the creations.

You noticed it a few times before. The way someone would give him a look or maybe chat with their friends and giggle while staring at Willy Wonka. It didn’t bother you so, because nobody ever really acted on anything and you knew Willy only had his eye on one person.

You.

But today? Today was a little different.

Today you had decided to visit the chocolatier, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for you.

When entering the chocolate store you immediately noticed the crowd. There were people practically everywhere, left and right. But even so, you could easily spot your darling a mile away.

He was currently occupied with customers showing them around the store, no doubt explaining his chocolate to them. Not wanting to interrupt of course, you opted to walking around yourself, snacking on some of the sweet treats here and there.

Munching on a silver lining you neared your partner, while still keeping your distance. You could hear Willy as he enthusiastically explained his methods and you couldn’t help but beam at his passion.

Watching in admiration a comment nearby pulled you out of your daze.

“That Mr.Wonka, his snacks are delicious.” You heard coming from a group of women beside you. You glanced at them quickly, noticing how they were openly gawking.

“His snacks aren’t the only thing that’s delicious,” said another, before they burst into giggles.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the remarks. You tried to pay no mind but they continued.

“You are so bad.”

“What? She’s right,” said another, “actually I might take a crack at that.”

You frown slightly, your eyebrows knitting together.

“He’s probably taken.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

“He might be tired of his relationship anyway.”

You squint, growing upset as they continue in their discussions with the occasional laughs. Who talks like that? You watch in annoyance as the group travels to Willy Wonka. Honestly you were upset, but frankly you wanted to see how this all was going to go down.

Picking up a flower dessert the woman saunters to Willy, “gee Mr.Wonka, your ideas are oh so unique. You can really see your pure creativity in each and every one.”

“Well thank you,” says Willy, always appreciative to hear kind words.

“I would love to come to your factory and…taste test for you,” comments another one of the women butting ahead of her friend.

But Willy doesn’t seem to pick up on her tone, “I apologize but I’m not hiring at the moment.”

Unfortunately the latter woman is persistent.

“No, not for a job,” she laughed resting a hand on his shoulder, while her friends watched on, “I was thinking more of an after hours sort of special taste test.”

Willy stares at her with the same smile still on his lips, “why would you want to do that?”

At this point it’s impossible for you not to laugh at how oblivious he seemed about her advances.

The woman opens her mouth once more but unable to witness any further you stepped in. “Willy!” You exclaimed, gaining his attention along with the small group.

Willy’s smile broadened, expressing a goofy grin as he shifted his body towards you. “Darling! What are you doing here?” He asks enthusiastically, while you place a small kiss on his cheek as you near.

“Oh nothing, just stopping by,” you respond before turning to the group feigning surprise at your own interruption, “oh I’m sorry. I’d like to thank you all for supporting my Willy’s dream. It means the world to me and him that he has your support,” you glance to the last woman taking note of the obscure expression decorating her face.

“Oh did I interrupt?”

“Nope. We were just about done” says Willy. He thanks the attendees before tugging you to the opposite side that’s less crowded.

“You are hilarious…Mr.Wonka,” you tease, your tone light.

His head tilts, clearly confused by your words.

“That woman,” you point with your eyes at the scene you two left behind, “she was desperately flirting.”

Willy’s eyelids lift, his eyes widened at this news, “with who?” He glances around trying to match the suitor.

“With you.”

He bends his hand placing the tips of his fingers on his chest as if questioning, ‘me?’ And you nod in response.

Willy’s lips curled downwards in thought, but then his face contorted to an even more curious one.

“Huh?”

You raise a brow at that, “what?”

“Nothing,” he brushes.

But then, “huh?”

You shake your head, a smile threatening to break through, “that’s a double huh. Spill it.”

Willy shifted to you the smile of his own widening, “did you perhaps…get envious?”

That is not a discussion you were expecting to have at this moment.

“I have no idea what you’re going on about,” you protest, yet the smile on your face expresses something else.

“See I don’t think that’s entirely true,” he pointed out crossing his arms, “because A, your face right now tells me otherwise, and B, you interrupted my tour.”

Willy had a point there. Typically when you came in and he was busy discussing, whether it be with a group or an individual, you always waited until he was absolutely free. However, this time, you did not.

But still…“you’re imagining things,” you tease, your eyes leaving his, unable to willingly admit the facts.

“Uh-huh, okay. Well…”

He leans over faster than you realize, with his lips coming in contact flush against your own. Before he retracts himself.

“It’s flattering that you feel so strongly about me.”

“Yeah, well…yeah,” is all you say bashful enough of your own feelings, “but how could you not notice her advances?” You’re genuinely curious because it all was so obvious.

He shrugged a dazed look on his expression, “I guess it’s easy to give no thought to those things, when I’ve already got something so special with you.”

Feeling your cheeks gain in warmth you glance away clearing your throat in bashfulness, “woah, I thought chocolate was your expertise not cheesiness.”

He laughed along with you, “eh who knows, maybe I can try to branch out into the cheesy side of things.”

You open your mouth but are interrupted by another inquiring customer who gains the chocolatier's attention.

Standing aside and letting him be you observe, pondering on how thankful you are to have found this man.

And suddenly gaining in curiousness…does he get jealous?

[pers1st]

people help the people

pairing: lucy bronze (platonic) x reader

notes: mentions of suicide, not really ahappy ending, whole lotta angst, don't read if you're not in a good place.

i lost my best friend to suicide about a year ago and it's genuinely been the hardest thing of my life to go through, and even though i feel incredibly selfish for comparing my pain to hers, i just hope that everyone who's in a bad place will feel better soon. your death will hurt people, even if you don't believe it. my messages are always open !!

“Heartbreaking news have hit the football community earlier this morning as Arsenal have confirmed the death of young defender, Y/N Y/L/N. The club has stated that Y/L/N, who also played for the Lionesses, was found dead in her apartment late last night. Her death has been ruled as suicide. Other than that, both the club and the FA have asked for privacy as they deal with this tragic loss. The matches of this week will take place as usual, though the teams have agreed collectively to wear black armbands, along with having a minute of silence ahead of the match’s begin.”

The internet was a cruel place, Lucy realized a week after your death. There were countless articles, invasive messages, offensive comments about how and why your presence had been tragically ripped away from this world. She didn’t understand - how could she? Lucy liked to believe that the two of you had a real bond, with you only being nineteen years old and looking up to Lucy as if she was a Goddess, following her every step, studying her every move, clinging onto her every word as if she spoke a prayer. The admiration wasn’t one-sided, either. Lucy looked up to you. How could she not? You were so young, and faced with so much adversity - the fact that you were as professional as you were at such a young age, you impressed Lucy. You had. Until Keira had filled her in on the news ahead of a training session at Barcelona, shattering Lucy’s heart in the process. You had reached out to Lucy a lot, but never about anything this serious. You had told Lucy a lot of things, but nothing grave enough a reason to take your own life. 

Admittedly, she knew the odd joke you had made - when you had slipped on the ball in front of the whole team, crashing down onto your stomach and banging your head enough to leave a glaringly obvious bump on your forehead, only to realize that the media staff had caught the moment and posted it to TikTok mere moments later. You had said, then, that you might as well have offed yourself. Lucy had laughed. Leah, who had been standing closeby, had laughed. You had laughed as you said it, but the words didn’t leave Lucy’s head anymore. You had said it. Right in front of her. How could she not have noticed?

It took minutes for Lucy’s face to be drenched in tears, hours until she would leave the medical room, which Keira had cleared and led her into, knowing very well that Lucy would not want anyone to see her raw emotions, days until Lucy returned to training, and months for anyone in the football community to address the situation. Mental health. Mental illness. Lights and shadows that came with being exposed to such brutal schedules, invasive comments, being shown off for everyone to see while no one ever required to know anything substantial. People wanted funny comments, smiles, laughter. No one ever cared about the weight dragging any players down, until it was too late - Lucy realized, as everyone and their mother seemed opposed to even speaking your name, only that energy into  searching, very openly, both in comment sections or live on broadcasted TV, for the reason you had left life behind. Lucy searched for it too, though more secludedly.

She re-read your messages for hours, in the little light the moon provided as it fell through the cracks of her bedroom window, deciphering each and every letter, pronouncing the words out loud in different tones, scrolling through your social media to search for any clue. You had had your fair share of problems- you had told Lucy about them. You hadn’t been a big fan of the fans seemingly taking property of you. You hadn’t been ready for the pressure that you would be put under after another one of your defenders was injured and you were re-called from your loan to step into the position immediately. You hadn’t dealt well with the lack of your parents’ presence. Though you had still lived with them, they had rarely attended your matches, always able to come up with an excuse, one that you believed. You had defended them, shielding your family from Lucy's criticism when you had let her know, in another disappointed text message, that they hadn’t been able to make it. You hadn’t wanted to accept the fact that they simply weren’t interested in your career, and Lucy had accepted that. 

Now, though, she wondered whether you had silently accepted it, and been too ashamed to admit it. Lucy knew that it wasn’t your fault - you had been the biggest ray of sunshine, even through your difficulties. You had managed to put a smile on everyone’s face, even though you had always been a little shy. You had been sweet, and kind, and gentle. Had Lucy been your parent- she would’ve let everyone know, would’ve shown you off to the world with pride, would’ve been there for everyone of your big moments. She had managed to fly out for the Conti Cup final, together with Keira, to watch you win the second domestic trophy in your senior career, only this time it was as a key-player rather than a super-sub. 

Lucy was never really able to figure out your exact reasoning - perhaps that was the deal with mental illness. It was an illness. Perhaps there was no reasoning, perhaps the whole point of being ill was the fact that a healthy person would never be able to grasp the darkness that clenched your soul and inevitably drove you to death. If Lucy had learned one thing, though, it was the fact that she was never going to let anyone feel like you must’ve, ever again.

She had seen your parents during the funeral, had witnessed what your death had done to the people, who, though she never really liked them, had raised an absolutely incredible girl. She had seen your room, per her parents request, had seen the blood stained tiles on your bathroom floor, had heard your mother’s mumbled apology for not being able to clean it all. She had seen where you had spent your very last minutes, and she had thought about what must’ve been going on through your head, and it had almost suffocated her. And that was how she found herself here - in a studio in London on her rare off day, with Sky Sports, in an interview room that felt uncomfortable, a seat that pressed into her back, and a microphone in her sweaty hands. 

“I just think that mental health is so, so important. I don’t know what it’s like to feel like… to feel like there’s no way out anymore, but I do know what it feels like to lose a person to their illness. It’s brutal. It makes you think you’ve failed them, and it makes you want to wish you had done more. I don’t want anyone to experience that.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, glancing at the reporter next to her. The man was kind, he handled the interview with delicacy. Your death had shocked the world, and by now, people knew to be respectful. Enough time had passed. Everyone had gotten over the initial shock. Everyone was left behind with that same distaste in their mouth and a hole in their stomach. People were delicate, when they mentioned you. They were still wearing black armbands in the WSL, and Lucy still wore the bracelet she had been given by your parents, taping it up for every match, letting any of her lioness teammates kiss her wrist whenever they scored. 

“Is that why it’s so important to talk about this, to you?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely part of it. But I think most of all, I think we need to speak about it for Y/N. I think if we’d had this kind of open conversation a few months ago, she would’ve maybe reached out, you know. If I had educated myself on the topic better, maybe I could’ve seen the signs. I think it’s more for the people who feel the way she felt. If we can make even a single person reach out for help when they initially wouldn’t, I think it’s paid off.”

The man nodded. 

“It’s just… you know. There’s always another way. Even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t know what it’s like to go through suicidal tendencies, but I do know what it’s like to feel sort of, hopeless. And I know that whatever happens, the world is a better place with you in it. Suicide is such a cruel way to go. I’ve wondered a lot, you know, whether she’s happier now, but I don’t think she is. Y/N had so many ambitions, so many dreams. She had such a bright future and yeah, for a mental illness to rip that away from her, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Lucy sniffed, the tears dwelling in her eyes by now. She had never spoken about your death publically. No one had, not exactly. Sure, there had been underlying comments, minutes of silence and the odd mention of your name, but people had been cautious to actually speak about the situation. She couldn’t blame them, because fuck- this hurt. She saw your face whenever she closed her eyes. She heard your voice whenever she couldn’t sleep, your laughter was engraved into her brain. There would not be a day in her life that she didn’t miss you. It hurt. A lot. The realization that you weren’t just a few countries away, that you wouldn’t call her back later, that you wouldn’t call her after an important match or visit her in Barcelona like you had said you would.

“You’ve been kind of hesitant to agree to this interview. Why do you think that is? I mean, no one has really spoken about Y/N’s death as openly as you have.”

“Yeah, I think it’s difficult. To admit this kind of pain. I mean- it shouldn’t be, you know? I think it’s important to speak about this kind of loss and all the hurt that comes with it. Not out of a place to put blame, I’d never blame her. But just to, yeah, make people realize how bad this kind of loss hurts. How much people miss her, because we all miss her, even though some people are hesitant to say it out loud.”

“How do you feel about people being so hesitant?”

“I don’t think you can blame them, you know. Grief looks different for anyone. And I guess I’m a fixer kind of person. I want to fix things, and even though I’ll never be able to, you know, fix this, I do hope that by speaking up about this, I can potentially save someone from doing the same thing. Let people know that mental health should never be a taboo, encourage people to speak up before it’s too late. Because the world will miss you, even if you don’t think it will. The world is a different place without you in it”, she concluded, though she was mostly speaking to you.

It was true. The world was different, now that you were gone. Your friends- mostly the younger girls in the Arsenal squad, seemed to be less talkative. Arsenal was a different place- Leah had told Lucy during your funeral. Everyone was a little less talkative, the loss hanging heavy over the team. Kim worried a lot, about the younger ones, whereas the older, more experienced players, dealt with the same kind of guilt Lucy felt. 

Barcelona was different too, though you had never played there. Alexia and Patri seemed to be checking on everyone a little more frequently, holding the team together, making sure everyone was okay. Lucy wasn’t, of course, though her team tried their best to help her move forward.

She did, eventually. England camps became less heavy, and when England won the Euros in 2025 again, during Lucy’s last match, she held up your shirt proudly, keeping the medal that had your name engraved in it, without shedding a single tear. When Arsenal won the Super League that year, they did the same thing. Lucy still felt a pinch in her chest everytime one of your teams reached another milestone, because she had wanted you to experience those kind of things. You deserved to experience your first league title, your second Euros, but more than anything-

She envisioned the life you could’ve lived, away from football. You deserved to fall in love, to visit Barcelona and every other place in the world you would’ve wanted to. You deserved to move out of your parents home into your first ever flat, you deserved to get a kitten and name it something ridiculous, the way you had always planned. You deserved to feel the rays of sun on your skin on the odd day it didn’t rain in London, you deserved to go on another trip to Ibiza and terrorize the rest of the girls in the club for another night. You deserved to be a bridesmaid at a wedding, the way you had always wanted to. You deserved a lot more than dying at nineteen. Everyone did. And Lucy would spend the rest of her career, potentially the rest of her life, making sure that people who felt the same way you had would feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful, would live a little longer. Anything in her power. She would do it all.