#I had that hunch since it was revealed that he could give and take away quirks

[enjoythesilentworld]

💜💜

X Me    (“Simon, my back really hurts after rowing practice. You think you can give me a massage?”)

hello anon <3 so, at this point we've learned that i'm incapable of drabbles. i hope this little 1.5k ficlet lives up to your expectations with that beautiful quote you've provided xx

also, i wondered how i was going to do this prompt without making it very horny. and, well, it's definitely horny, but also has some fluff sprinkled in! (very fade-to-black M-rating)

A not-so-short, but straight to the finally-falling-into-each-other, friends to lovers AU.

~

“Simon, my back really hurts after rowing practice. You think you can give me a massage?”

Simon lifted his gaze from where he’d been hunched over his laptop and found Wille standing in the entryway to their apartment. He was slightly sweaty and frowning, uncomfortably rolling his shoulders, but Simon could see the slight smirk hidden in his features, the challenge.

Things had begun to shift between them lately. Simon first met Wille in the freshman dorms on the first day he’d arrived at university. Nearly four years later, after many late night study sessions and trips to coffee shops and video game competitions, they were best friends and still lived together. The thing that had shifted was the fact that, since one month ago, both of them were finally single at the same time.

Either one or both of them had been in some kind of relationship for the past few years, and about a week after Wille ended his last fling, things began to change. He and Wille had always been more touchy than a typical friendship, but it was never weird for them. There was a certain blurry, invisible line they never crossed, but Simon never saw it as anything other than platonic. That was, until they were both single and suddenly the way Wille brushed past him in the kitchen with a hand to the small of Simon’s back or the way Simon sometimes curled up into Wille’s side on the couch had a very different undertone. Then, there was the time two weeks ago when they’d both gotten a little drunk at a party and danced together, a little too close to be casual. Or that other time one week ago when they’d gone out to dinner with friends and sat pressed up against each other in a booth and Wille put a hand on Simon’s thigh, a little too high to be friendly.

It was like they were playing a game, amping up the tension that had been building between them for— Honestly, for the last four years. If, on that first night in their shared dorm room, Wille hadn’t disappeared to go to some party with a cousin of his and hadn’t come back in the morning covered in hickies, things probably would’ve started between them much earlier.

Simon already felt like he was going to burst at the seams, and so it was really very cruel of Wille to return from rowing practice looking like that, asking Simon to do that, and doing a real terrible job of hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What?” Simon asked, feigning cluelessness.

Wille took a few steps forward and dropped his bag on the floor. With a dry mouth, Simon watched him interlace his fingers behind his back, the damp, almost see-through material of his T-shirt stretching as he did.

“I think I might’ve pulled something,” Wille said, voice strained as he lifted his clasped hands, traps and upper biceps flexing with the movement. He pouted at Simon. “Please?”

Simon swallowed and kept his eyes locked on Wille’s, even as the man reached down and picked up the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe his sweaty brow. In his peripheral, Simon could still see the revealed expanse of skin.

He managed to keep his tone relatively casual, eyes flitting back down to his laptop, as he said, “Yeah, sure. But only if you take a shower first. I can smell you from here.”

“You’re the best,” Wille grinned and saluted Simon before heading to the bathroom.

The moment he heard the shower turn on, Simon stopped pretending to click away on his laptop and dropped his head into his hands, exhaling a long, suffering sigh.

It would be fine. Simon would pull himself together and give his roommate, who he was maybe-not-just-friends with, a massage and it would all be fine. He would not lose this game they’d started.

Because he needed to do something with his hands, and because he’d abandoned all hope of focusing on his essay any longer, Simon went to the kitchen and quickly made a smoothie for Wille. He knew that, after a rough practice, Wille was always too tired to make real food and would just end up having chips, which was not a very good post-workout meal.

The shower shut off just as Simon was cleaning out the blender. He whirled around when he heard the bathroom door swing open.

“Where do you want me?” Wille asked from the doorway, still damp, hair dripping, and nothing but a towel around his waist. His smirk softened to an adoring smile when he saw Simon approaching him, holding out the smoothie. “Oh— You made that for me?”  

“Yes. You need real nutrients, Wille. That’s probably why you hurt yourself.”

Wille snorted and took the smoothie, giving Simon a quick peck on the cheek. His smell, fresh and soapy but still so Wille, overwhelmed Simon’s senses.

“God,” Wille moaned, licking his lips. “This is delicious. Maybe I should start neglecting my health more often. I swear your smoothies are better than mine.”

He would not lose this game.

Simon rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder into Wille’s as he brushed past. It left a damp mark on his shirt.

“Come on. It’ll be easiest if you lie down,” Simon said, letting himself into Wille’s room. “Do you have—”

“I’ve got this?”

Wille had followed after him and was holding out a half-empty bottle of massage oil.

“Right. Perfect,” Simon murmured, taking the bottle from him.

Wille took another big sip of his smoothie, then deposited the cup on the nightstand and lay down across the bed. His feet dangled off the edge. He sighed happily and shifted a bit, back muscles flexing, and half buried his face in the pillows.

Tentatively, Simon knelt on the edge of the bed. “Where?”

“Between my shoulder blades,” Wille said, voice muffled. Simon’s eyes tracked the bulging of his triceps, the rippling of his obliques, as he bent an arm at an awkward angle to gesture at the area.

He nodded then, realizing Wille had shut his eyes and couldn’t see him, stuttered, “O— Okay.”

With slow, careful hands, he pumped out a bit of the oil onto his hands and lathered it together between them to warm it up, then leaned forward and spread it gently across the expanse of Wille’s broad back.

He would not lose this game.

To keep his head, Simon focused on the feeling of the knots under his fingertips. There were a few along the bottom edges of his shoulder blades, and he also noticed that one side of the muscles along his spine were slightly more raised than the other. He ran a firm thumb over a spot of tightness and Wille punched out an exhalation.

Simon froze. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes,” Wille chuckled tightly. “But it’s nice.”

When Simon didn’t move, Wille added, “It’s okay, Simon. You can press harder. It feels really good. Honestly, a bit of pain makes it better.”

So he wouldn’t have to think about the double meaning of those words, about a very different context in which Wille could be saying them, Simon started again.

He would not lose this game.

He worked the heel of his hand over the tighter spots, pausing occasionally to add more oil. Starting near the base of his spine, then smoothing it up, up, up to right below his neck, then out across the top of his shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I am,” Wille said softly, “really grateful for you. I’m really glad you’re in my life.”

Simon smiled down at the side of Wille’s head, the way his face smushed into the pillows, the way his eyebrows drew together and he bit his lip as Simon worked over a particularly tight spot.

Voice tight, he mumbled, “I just love you, Simon.”

“I love you, Wille.” His hands slipped slightly, and he felt his cheeks flame with the words. It felt different than all the other times they’d said it. To hide how much his heart had soared at the exchange, he sassed, “Except you owe me after this,” then dug his thumb deep into a knot.

“Whatever you—fuck.” Wille’s fond words broke off into a heated moan and he arched slightly into Simon’s touch. “Fuck that feels so good, Simon.”

The tender moment was definitely lost, and the sounds shot straight to Simon’s groin. His resolve was crumbling.

“There?” Simon asked quietly, rubbing his thumb over the same spot.

“Th—yes. Right there. Shit.”

Wille stopped biting his lip, stopped muffling his groans, as Simon worked over the taut muscles. Right where Wille had indicated, then slowly moving down his back, over smooth, oiled, beautiful skin.

His fingers hesitated at the edge of the bath towel that still covered Wille’s lower half.

“Simon,” Wille breathed, tone almost pleading.

“Can I take this off?” he asked quietly, thumbing across the fluffy fabric.

“Please.”

Simon was plenty happy to lose this game.

[in-my-loki-feels]

💖 Lokius

This is a continuation from this kiss prompt, where Loki got drunk after being left alone at Mobius' desk. (think early S1-era.) Putting it under a cut since it got long again.

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

Loki’s alcohol-fueled mayhem ran out eventually. One second he was pausing for breath, mid-song, and the next he had dropped into another analyst’s chair and passed out. Mobius figured there was no point dragging him somewhere else to sleep it off. He just rolled Loki and the chair over to his own desk, sat down, and got back to reading. 

Sometime later, Loki jolted awake violently. He froze, then looked around quickly—searching for threats, Mobius thought—before visibly collecting himself. He sat up straight, tilted his head to crack his neck, and gave Mobius a winning smile. 

“Still hard at work, I see? Do you ever take breaks, Agent Mobius?” 

“Sure,” Mobius said. “Took one while you slept.” A lie, but not one he thought Loki would catch since he was still getting his bearings. Mobius gathered the files together and tucked them under his arm as he stood. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.” 

“That…that makes no sense.” Loki scrambled after him, frowning. “There's no daylight here.” 

“Guess you were paying attention during those videos you were trying so hard to ignore.”

Mobius walked fast, as if he could escape the memory of what had happened with a little distance, but the problem had long legs and was following him. He’d done his best to forget about the kiss while Loki was asleep, but focusing on work only let him put it out of his mind temporarily. It was harder now that Loki was awake, even if he was acting like nothing had happened. Mobius needed to do the same. If Loki didn’t remember, that was the best outcome. 

“You seem tense,” Loki remarked as they wound their way through corridors to an elevator. Mobius tried to lower his shoulders out of their defensive hunch. 

“Just eager to catch this variant,” he said and pressed the call button. 

Loki was quiet after that, which should have been a blessing except Mobius knew Loki. He could practically feel something building. 

Sure enough, Loki opened his big mouth and said, “Is this about the alcohol I found? I must point out it wasn't hidden very well.”

“The—” Mobius turned, equal parts stunned and annoyed. Loki remembered the alcohol? What about the dancing and the singing? And the kiss? 

Loki’s expression was a study in innocence, like he didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Mobius stepped in, trying not to reveal how Loki’s comment had left him floundering. 

“It was at my desk,” he said, jabbing the appropriate button after Loki followed him in. “I wasn’t expecting to have to hide it from snoops.” 

“Snoops?” Loki echoed with a derisive sniff. “Please.” 

The elevator hummed as it carried them through the TVA. Mobius thought he might have offended Loki enough to move on, but then Loki side-stepped closer. 

“If this sudden shift in mood hasn’t anything to do with a lack of rest, or the alcohol I sampled—”

“Sampled,” Mobius muttered, rolling his eyes upward. 

“—then it must be because—”

The elevator dinged again, cutting Loki off. The doors opened and Mobius hurried out, almost bumping into an analyst who’d been waiting. He turned left, hearing Loki close behind, and felt his shoulders tensing again as he waited for the question he was dreading. 

“Did you not care for the dance, Agent Mobius?” 

Mobius came to a stop, turning to face Loki. The smirk on his face told Mobius enough. Fine. Two could play this game. 

“It wasn’t bad, maybe a little clumsy. Not your best effort,” Mobius said, giving Loki a smirk of his own before he walked away. 

Loki was briefly stunned into silence and then called after him, “I beg your pardon?” He caught up easily. “What do you mean, not my best effort?” 

“The seduction. That’s what you were going for, right?” Mobius glanced over as they walked. Loki looked surprised. Gotcha. “Seduce your way into my good graces so you could steal my TemPad and escape. Am I wrong?” 

He didn’t think that had been Loki’s plan at all. Mobius had seen a lot of footage from Loki’s life. He knew Loki was good at seducing people, but he’d always done it with grace and cleverness, manipulating his target into easily following whatever plan Loki had in mind. 

That drunken kiss hadn’t felt premeditated. It had felt impulsive, or like a momentary lapse of sanity. For both of them. 

The accusation seemed to have flabbergasted Loki. He said nothing for the rest of the walk to the Archives, turning into a silent shadow as Mobius greeted the Head Archivist and returned the files he carried. He'd decided he would put Loki to work reviewing some of the original attacks by the Variant and go get himself a snack to put an end to this conversation.

Except once Mobius ducked down an aisle, he realized Loki was following a lot closer than he’d thought. He tensed as Loki caught him by the shoulder and spun him around, crowding close so Mobius’ back hit the shelves. The look on Loki’s face wasn’t much different from when they’d fallen into Mobius’ chair together. 

“You’re right, of course,” Loki said, lowering his voice. “Shall I try again?” 

Loki held Mobius’ chin with one hand and licked into his mouth like he was picking up exactly where they'd left off. Mobius grabbed Loki’s arm but there was no budging him. Loki was taking what he wanted, and Mobius, unfortunately, was rapidly loosing any desire to stop. Loki’s breath still tasted of whiskey and the kiss was hot and hungry and quickly devouring Mobius’ common sense. 

Loki pinned Mobius to the shelves, bringing their bodies flush, and Mobius had to stifle a moan at how good Loki’s body felt against his own. There was no way to hide his reaction, but then Loki rocked their hips together and he could feel Loki was getting hard as well. 

It seemed to surprise both of them because Loki pulled back slightly. They were still pressed close from the waist down and their breaths mingled in the scant distance between their faces.

“Is that better, Agent Mobius?” Loki asked. He was clearly trying for a commanding tone, but his voice was rough and his gaze had locked onto Mobius’ mouth. He didn’t wait for an answer, just leaned in to kiss him again. He gave up trying to hold Mobius still and instead slid his hands into Mobius’ hair. Mobius grabbed Loki’s hips and yanked him close, dragging a groan out of Loki.

Then Mobius’ TemPad beeped with a message. 

They both startled, breaking the kiss. Loki’s face was flushed, almost as much as it had been when drunk. Mobius doubted he looked any better. His whole body felt like it was aflame and his hair was probably sticking out from Loki’s fingers running through it. He hadn’t loosened his hold on Loki and could feel they were both still hard. 

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, as Mobius whispered, “Shit.”

Couldn't resist mirroring the ending, hehe. From this ask game. Other ficlets here.

[airanke]

Seeing people frustrated and sad and even angry about the recent MHA chapter (regarding Shiggy) makes me SO HAPPY about one of my plot points in STIL, because it directly addresses the thing that people are understandably frustrated about with Shiggy.

[omgeto]

✩ — 4:21am

summary: gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you.

cw: minor angst, fluffy ending (I PROMISE) this is for all you sad hojoes out there that just want your man home all in one piece.

gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you. you didn't actually think much of it, until one night, you awake in panic feeling that something's off. you are used to falling asleep as you wait for gojo to come home, but when you check the time and realise that it was later than usual, anxiety gnawed at your heart.

the clock on the bedside table mocks you with its relentless ticking. each passing second only intensifies your unease. you reach for your phone and check for messages or missed calls, but there's nothing. gojo hasn't contacted you since the last heated argument you had before he left for his mission. it's been hours since then.

you can’t even remember what you fought about, it was something trivial, him forgetting to put the milk back in the fridge, or not putting down the toilet seat—it was dumb. it hurts you even more now that the things you were just berating him for a few hours ago, you were begging for him to come back and do one more time.

fighting back the growing panic, you try calling him. his phone rings, but there's no answer. of course there wouldn’t be you knew that he doesn’t use his phone when he was out, but you just had to try, hoping that he’d sent a quick text to say he was just around the corner—but there was nothing.

you couldn’t help but conjure up terrifying scenarios about him. what if he’s injured? what if he’s been chopped up into little pieces and he’s in pain? wanting to call you and he can’t.

you can't stay still any longer, pacing back and forth in your dimly lit apartment. your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can't shake the feeling that something terrible has happened. the world outside is quiet, and the darkness feels suffocating. 

your mind wanders to the first time you met him, he was persistent immediately when he first laid eyes on you, claiming that he would stop at nothing to get to be with you. and that was true. you wouldn’t give him the time of day, at first, but whenever you were around him doing your ‘hard to get routine,’ he put in extra effort just to get with you.

there wasn’t anyone you could even ask to see if he was okay, since if he wasn’t, who else would be? and there’s a part of you that wouldn’t even want to know, you had to see him, alive and well for all your worries to be gone.

as the minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity, you cling to thoughts of him, each memory acting as a lifeline. there wasn’t even any indication that something bad happened to him, but there is something unsettling that you just couldn’t shake.

you could feel him before you could even hear the faint tapping at the door. there isn’t any hesitation as you bolt to the door, dragging a weak standing gojo into a tight hug only pulling away as you hear him softly wince at your heavy touch.

“sorry,” he murmurs, standing with his arm clutching at his lower stomach, slightly hunched over, “i lost my keys.”

“you lost your keys?” you practically yell, “that’s what you wanna focus on right now?” you ask as you look at his injured body. this is the worst you’ve ever seen him, and you could tell that he was in pain from the way his usual breezy smile, isn’t reaching his eyes like it normally does.

you quickly usher gojo inside, supporting him as he limps toward the couch. the dim living room lights reveals a deep gash on his face, and his clothes are torn and stained with dirt and blood. 

“take off your shirt,” you order, your face filled with concern as you try and properly assess all his injuries.

“aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he jokes, cringing as you remove his shirt from over his head, trying not to hurt him further.

“this isn’t the time for jokes ‘toru,” you chastise, shaking your head to prevent yourself from getting emotional, “y’know i really thought that—” you sigh, not even wanting to utter the words, since it doesn’t matter as he’s here now, alive.

“i can’t even lie,” he starts, his eyes staring down, avoiding yours. “for a moment out there, i didn’t know if i could live up to my promise to you.” you couldn’t even respond, the fact that gojo could even admit that there was a chance that he wasn’t gonna get back to you, had you panicked.

“c’mere,” he says pulling your into his lap, noticing the stressed expression that has yet to leave your face.

you were quick to jump off of him, but he kept you firm in his hold, his arms wrapped protectively around you. despite the pain he must have been in, his eyes held a mixture of relief and vulnerability as he looked into yours. “satoru you’re hurt.”

but he gave you a reassuring smile, one that couldn't quite hide the pain etched on his face. "i'm okay, really," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “i just need you close right now."

as you settled back into his embrace, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, reassuring you that he was indeed alive and home with you, where he had always promised to be.

AN: SO GUYS HOW DID I DO? im not really a drabble or fluffy girlie, as you guys know. but um tada... this is for you all. love ya. If there’s mistakes in there it’s 6am so ignore em please IF THIS IS SHIT THEN IM SORRY I TRIED. But as long as one gojo lover says “emp you’ve mended my little heart” I can die happy

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: During a car ride Joel attempts to hide his erection from you along with feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for his friend’s daughter.]

Smut, Angst

Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

When your father was killed, before he took his last breath, he made Joel promise him he would watch over you and keep you safe. Joel did just that knowing you had no one else. He and your father had been close friends for nearly five years, but he never really saw you around because you had lived with your mother growing up until right before the world ended. Of course, one thing Joel didn’t expect was just how much he began to like you yet, he knew you were off limits.

It had been five months now since your father had died, you and Joel were traveling back to where Tommy was. Although you were twenty, you had never learned how to drive so Joel began teaching you so you both could take turns to rest.

Joel and you had stopped at a shopping center hoping to find some more supplies but of course you became distracted by a clothing section. Mesmerized by the dresses the mannequins wore…you’d kill for the black silk one right in front of you. Watching Joel distracted in the other side of the room you grabbed the dress and hid behind a wall trying it on. You knew Joel would’ve convinced you other wise telling you it was pointless to do, but it had been so long since you dressed up. Catching a glimpse of yourself in a dusty old mirror you gasped. An old ticket showing the $700 price tag on it, why not have some fun with it?

“Joel! Look what I found” you stood before him excitedly as he was hunched over looking beneath a table. The second he stood up, his eyes lighting up before realizing what the hell he was thinking.

“What are you doin’?” He asked in a slight irritated tone.

“I found it and I had to try it on, Joel. I used to love wearing dresses and it’s gorgeous! I mean what do you think?!” Innocently you turned around looking back at him, showing the revealing cut it had down to your lower back. His eyes looking at you in a way they never had, following the slit to your ass before you turned back to him. Joel was speechless, you had no idea the effect you in that black dress had on him.

“Well?” You smiled as he stood serious, struggling to find the words.

“It’s nice” he spoke low, controlling his reaction on what he really thought. Joel couldn’t deny his attraction to you but anything he felt didn’t matter, he wouldn’t disrespect his friend this way.

“It’s gorgeous! It’s a $700 dress, you believe that?”

“We gotta get goin” Joel quickly changed the topic forcing himself to look away. You shrugged silently grabbing your backpack and walking beside him when he realized you were leaving with the dress on.

“The hell ya doin’?” He asked stopping you in your tracks.

“We’re just driving, thought I’d enjoy it on for a bit till our next stop. Come on don’t be a buzz kill” You laughed before walking off, Joel gulped not knowing how he was suppose to ignore you in that dress for the next four hours.

Sitting in the passenger seat you leaned your seat back drifting off to sleep until it was your turn to drive. Joel beside you gripping the steering wheel for dear life fighting the urge to look over at you. Thoughts roaming in his head like never before, inappropriate things about you that he couldn’t control. Moving around in your sleep you softly moaned making Joel unable to resist turning to you. One movement of your leg and the dress had slightly rose above your knee giving him a glimpse of your thigh. The sight sending blood rushing to his cock causing him to quickly swell up in his pants.

“Shit” Joel cursed at himself trying to ignore the urge he felt when you began to move around slowly waking up.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You yawned rubbing your eyes as Joel adjusted his pants struggling to hide his hard on.

“Uh, I don’t know” he kept his eyes on the road with his arm on his lap. You couldn’t help but notice he sounded strange and so you pushed your chair up looking over at him.

“You ok, you wanna switch spots now?” You asked but he quickly shook his head just wanting you to look away from him. His arm awkwardly sitting on his lap you couldn’t help but notice his awkward posture.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Your question making him more nervous.

“Huh? Nothin’” he cleared his throat before swallowing hard. Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

“Whatever” you whispered looking away as Joel remained tense hoping his nerves would kill the erection.

“I’m so thirsty, you have any left over water in your bottle” you looked over to the full bottle against his door and reached over.

“Hey, what the hell you doin’?”

Joel panicked feeling you come near him and attempted to grab his water bottle to pass it to you before realizing he was no longer covering his very obvious bulge.

“Oh-“ you gasped as he came to a sudden stop.

“Here, take the damn water bottle” he handed it to you without looking at you in the eye knowing you had seen what he was trying to hide. You had never suspected to see this side of Joel yet you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

What could’ve made him hard?

Looking up at him you realized how much he refused to look at you…maybe it was you. About to let himself out of the car, curiosity got the best of you and you slowly placed your hand on his bulge.

“What are you doin’-” He whispered low looking down at your hands on him, the feel of you so close taking over him. You could see him trying to fight it, yet he didn’t move.

“Relax” you whispered softly. Feeling the thickness of his length through his pants, his breathing growing heavier as if he was about to burst. Slowly you unbuttoned his pants, the urge he felt for you was too strong to stop you.

“Wait-” He whispered roughly yet he didn’t want you to stop. Gently you pulled out his warm thick cock in your hands looking up at him to find him already sweating.

It must’ve been so long since a woman touched him, you could see how much he needed this. Unexpectedly you leaned forward taking him in your mouth making his hips jerk, a sound you couldn’t make out harshly coming out of him.

“Fuck-“ he leaned his head back, his hands not knowing where to go, almost afraid to touch you. Joel closed his eyes in shame, what kind of man was he allowing you to do this? Feelings that Joel realized were never just platonic for you, he didn’t know what the hell they were.

Slowly you got up and leaned over to his side getting on top of him. Straddling him you felt him place his hands tightly on your waist. His eyes darkening realizing you never had any underwear on, the tip of his cock feeling how wet you were. The look in his eyes of a man that lost control as you took him in completely.

“Shit-“ Joel squeezed your waist. Grabbing onto his button shirt you began to ride him, his jaw tensing at the feel of how tight you were, stretching for him with each stroke. A sudden loud moan from you taking Joel by surprise as you moved faster. He watched as the silk dress slipped off your shoulders giving him a glimpse of your breast jumping out with each movement you made. He knew he wouldn’t last long especially with the way you felt wrapped around his cock. Leaning close against him you held onto his broad shoulders, breathless as he looked at you completely lost in the pleasure. A deep moan coming from his lips when his hips jerked upward.

“Fuck- get up- get up-“ he choked out before he picked you up himself off his cock and came. Throwing yourself to the side you watched as he finished jerking himself off, his cum building up on his hand as more continued to spill out of him. He sat still for a minute with his eyes closed, out of breath as you watched him..

The ride continued silently, Joel was serious staring ahead not making any eye contact with you. He could feel you look over at him here and there, the guilt eating up at him. How the hell could he have let this happen? Joel was pissed at himself for giving in, for being so weak.

“Are you mad at me?” Your question catching him off guard. Of course he wasn’t mad at you, he was more angry at himself, he should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve known better but caught in the moment you didn’t think. Joel was a man you trusted, the two of you were adults and things escalated quickly, why did it feel so wrong?

“No” his response not convincing you.

Joel decided to pull up to another pharmacy to see what other supplies could be found along the way. Waiting for him to get out you called out to him telling him you were going to change. Joel turned his back to the car waiting for you not saying a word.

“Let’s go” you walked past him reaching the front door before slowly opening it.

“Hold on, dammit” Joel grabbed the door letting himself in first taking a look around as you followed. After clearing the place the two of you began looking for anything you might need. Still you watched how Joel avoided you, not letting himself get close to you until you finally had enough.

“You’re really just not gonna talk to me?”

He stood still thinking of what to say but didn’t say a word.

“Look, I never expected that to happen, Joel. I wouldn’t have just done that with anyone” you continued as he distracted himself looking around him.

“You can’t even look at me-“

“It shouldn’t have happened” he whispered looking down.

“Well it did-“

“It was wrong” his voice grew louder as he unexpectedly looked up.

“I made a promise to your father-“

“My father is dead, Joel! I’m not a little girl.”

He most certainly knew you weren’t.

“I’m not looking for you to baby me or..want something more with me so don’t worry about that, but the least you could do is not act like I’m no longer worth speaking to anymore”

“Maybe you never were” he responded rather quickly catching you off guard. Joel didn’t want you upset with him but maybe that’s what was best. Anything was better than Joel coming to terms that maybe this wasn’t just a sexual encounter. A sexual encounter that he should’ve never allowed in the first place.

“I only helped you because of your father, you think I would’ve stayed stuck with some young dumb broad just for the hell of it?” His words cutting through deep. You didn’t think for a second Joel had feelings for you, but he also had never spoken to you like this.

“You’ve only held me back” he whispered coldly, he noticed your eyes tearing up and quickly looked away. A wave of guilt washing over him as you angrily walked out slamming the door shut. Joel watched through the window making sure you got back to the car safely, he noticed you wipe away a tear only deepening his guilt.

During the rest of the car ride you didn’t speak to Joel, you didn’t even look at him. Joel taking a quick glance with the corner of his eye as you faced the window.

Once arriving back to Tommy’s you got out of the car and slammed the door shut heading to your room.

“Everything alright?” Tommy asked Joel watching you walk off.

“Peachy” Joel muttered low walking towards his brother.

Heading towards your room you ran into a few of the guys hanging out having drinks. Usually you were never one to drink but with the way you were feeling, why the hell not?

“What are you guys drinking today?” you caught them by surprise. Sure, Joel had warned you to stay away from these guys that were nothing but trouble but what was it his business whom you decided to surround yourself with.

“Whiskey, want some?” One of the guys asked.

“Please” you surprisingly grabbed the bottle from him and took a chug.

“Oh gross” you wiped your lips as the men laughed.

“Not a drink huh? Maybe you should slow down” they laughed just before you took another chug.

The night went on as the four of you laughed and talked about nonsense, you honestly were enjoying yourself. Joel having a drink with Tommy at the bar he had no idea what you had been up to outside thinking you were in your room.

“Ellie’s been alright?” Joel asked Tommy who nodded before taking a sip.

“She’s making friends easily, the kids like her” Tommy responded before they were both distracted by the sound of laughter and glass breaking outside.

“The hell was that?” Tommy slammed his glass down before heading out as Joel followed only to find the typical guys drinking together acting childish, except this time you were amongst them.

“Oh shit it’s Joel-“ one of the guys whispered hiding his bottle of alcohol, the other attempting to grab the bottle out of your hand.

“What the hell are you guys so afraid of? Joel Miller?” You laughed stumbling to the side as you took another sip. The guys standing up straight as Joel and his brother walked up to them.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel walked up inches away from your face looking down at you.

“Uh, Joel she was just having a drink and-“

“Was I talking’ to ya, boy?!” Joel quickly snapped at one of the guys beside you.

“Let’s go, get out of here” Tommy led the guys away from you and Joel which only pissed you off.

“No-where are they…going…?” You slurred as you attempted to follow them with a stumble, Joel grabbed your arm.

“Let go of me!” You pulled pack hitting the wall behind you.

“I was just…drinking with some friends”

“Ya know damn well they ain’t no friends” Joel took another step forward towering over you.

“I told you about those guys god dammit-“

“What the hell do you care!?” You attempted to shove him, yet he was harder to move than you expected. Taking another chug he unexpectedly grabbed the bottle away from you as you attempted to grab it back.

“Hey!” He threw aside breaking the glass.

“What the hell Joel!”

“This what cha wanna do? You get pissed at me so you go and get drunk with these losers?” He furrowed his brows.

“And what’s it to you?” You smirked at him.

“Maybe I wanted to get drunk and let one of them fuck me” your words making Joel clench his jaw. A hint of jealousy stinging him when he suddenly grabbed you by your legs and carried you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” You screamed kicking and hitting him but he didn’t budge. Not saying a word he let you scream until he bought you to your room. Kicking the door open Joel lay you down on the bed, before you ever had a chance to get up he walked out and closed the door shut behind him with a lock.

“What are you doing?! Open the door!!” You slammed your hands on the door angrily. Maybe this was selfish of him, Joel didn’t like the idea of you with any of these men, you with any other man for that matter. But at the same time you were drunk, he refused to let you make a stupid mistake out of anger.

“Open the door” you screamed once more when to your surprise, he actually opened it.

“Go” he whispered.

“Go on, go fuck those friends of yours-“ he stood back giving you space to walk out.

“That’s what you want right?” You could hear the irritation in his voice.

“What do you…care…” you continued to slur waving your hands around.

“What the hell do you…care who I…fuck, or what I do“ Joel unexpectedly grabbed you by your waist pushing you into the room.

“Cause I want you god dammit-“ he shocked you with his words.

“And not just you on top of me” his eyes looked deeply into yours.

“I want you beside me, I want you with me” he whispered as you stumbled slightly off balance. Too shocked…too drunk to respond, Joel didn’t know if he’d regret admitting this to you…a part of him hoping you wouldn’t remember the next day.

“I-I need to..lay down” you whispered as the room began to spin. Joel quickly lay you back on the bed, your hand covering your eyes as the sensation of a ride began to take over you.

“I’m really dizzy..” you whispered as he sat beside you.

“I’m right here” he held your hand in his as you closed your eyes and fell to sleep. Joel didn’t know what the hell got into him to admit anything to you, he didn’t know how he felt about it. He wondered what the next day would hold, if you would recall what he had been hiding for so long…

[zeroeightzeroone]

homesick - han jisung

love collection

genre: hurt/comfort

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

warnings: none?

wc ~3.7k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

you miss your boyfriend–you miss him a lot.

how could you not?

all you have wanted to do for the past couple of weeks is throw your arms around jisung and hold him close. you want to keep your boyfriend so tightly against your chest that you're encapsulated by the warmth radiating off his body, the warmth that never fails to comfort you, resting your head against his chest to listen to how his heart beats in tandem with your own. you miss the physical closeness with jisung.

stray kids has been on tour since late april this year, and the last leg of the tour is expected to end early april next year. while that's quite a long time for the boys to be away, they'd be back in asia in late july and on a break until the tour kicks back up in early september. it's currently the beginning of july.

thankfully, you weren't taking any summer courses. through the grace of whatever higher power there is up there, you managed to convince your boss to let you work remotely so you could join jisung and the boys for two weeks during the japanese leg of their tour back at the beginning of june.

you loved watching jisung perform. seeing him firsthand from the crowd, in his element when he's on stage, performing his art and perfecting his craft, makes your heart lurch; you fall for the man all over again, watching him up there. seeing it firsthand is completely different from watching videos of him–you can feel the energy radiating off him when he's up there.

at the end of those two weeks, you and the boys ended up in the same place: the airport. you were boarding a plane back to seoul, and they were boarding a plane to their first tour stop in america. due to the influx of reporters and fans waiting at narita international airport, your goodbyes to the boys and their staff had to be in the hotel, inside your rooms, hours before checkout time.

knock, knock, knock.

"come in!" you call whoever is on the other side of the door; if it's any of the boys, then they will be accompanied by jisung, who has the extra room key for your room.

you grunt in a squatting position as you move your luggage from laying on the ground, on its back, to standing upright on its wheels. you hear the keycard machine beep from the other side of the door in confirmation as you're hunched over, wheeling your luggage up against the wall before standing up straight and rubbing your palms against your jeans. you watch as the front door opens to reveal the eight boys, jisung in front, holding the keycard to your hotel room. behind them, the managers and some guards come into the room with them, but the bodyguards stay outside.

"y/n!" felix whines with a pout as he pushes forward, running to you and enveloping you in his arms, "fly safe, okay?"

you pat the freckled boy's back appreciatively as you nod.

"make sure you text ji when you land, okay?"

"i will, but you guys will still be in the air when he gets that message."

felix pulls away, his hands on your shoulders as he looks at you, "still, it's the thought that counts." you smile and giggle at felix, who moves aside for the next couple of members to say their goodbyes to you.

your exchanges with jeongin, minho and changbin are on the shorter side; brief hugs with jeongin and changbin, who thank you for coming to support them in concert, meanwhile minho gives you a half hug and pats your head as he bids you farewell, thanking you for taking two weeks out of the many months jisung will spend talking about how much he'll miss you.

meanwhile, hyunjin, chan and seungmin's hugs last a little longer when you're swayed around a little bit and told to be safe, get a lot of rest on the plane and not miss them too much. chan lets you know that if there is any other time you're going to be free when they're on tour, let them know, and they'll arrange everything for you–from the plane tickets to where you're staying–anything at all.

seungmin, the member you're closest to after your boyfriend, whispers in your ear quietly to ensure it's kept between the two of you: "i know you're going to ask me to take care of jisung for you, so don't worry about that. don't worry about hannie; we all got him."

the reassurance brings a smile to your face, and your grip on seungmin gets tighter in appreciation. the boy sways your bodies back and forth, patting your back when you separate. when he pulls away, he steps aside to reveal your boyfriend standing there with a pout, his big, brown eyes glossy as tears build up at his waterline. you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing.

you were already feeling on the verge of tears when felix came rushing in and pulled you into a hug. chan's words about arranging anything and everything if you're free, then seungmin assuring you that they'll look out for your boyfriend while on tour and now, here's your boyfriend, your hannie, your jisung, looking at you with teary eyes.

you open your arms and jisung runs into them, prompting you to take a step back at the sudden impact, but jisung's tight grip around your waist protects you from any chance of falling backward. jisung buries his face in the crook of your neck while your arms are wrapped around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder as your eyes are squeezed shut. your grip on each other is tight, knowing that once either of you lets go, the next time you'll be in each other's arms is in two months.

jisung lets a choked whimper slip out that he tries to hide with a cough. you smack his back gently, "ya!"

you clear your throat, trying your best to stay composed and stern as you utter the next words.

"if you cry, i'm going to cry too!" your voice cracks and trembles as you speak.

"i'm not crying," he denies. though his voice is muffled from his head buried in the crook of your neck, you can clearly hear that it's softer than usual, shaky, and uneasy.

you let out a pained laugh, "liar." the tears flow down your cheeks as you hold him even tighter.

"i'm not lying!" jisung continues to deny. he lifts his head up from your neck, and you stand there, still in each other's arms, looking at each other, "see."

what you see is how jisung's cheeks are flushed, wet with tears that probably fell and landed on the fabric of the hoodie you're wearing, his lashes clumped together with tears as he tries to keep his lips pursed together when they're trembling and threatening to go back to that pout. on the other hand, your tears are freely falling as you stare up at your boyfriend through your fluttering lids, mouth opening and closing as you breathe heavily through your pouted lips, cheeks also flushed and damp. you smack his chest.

"what?" he whines.

you open your mouth to laugh at him, but instead, a sob comes out. you fall back into his arms and bury your face into his chest as you cry.

"look who's crying now," jisung retorts as his arms move around your body again, holding you close. one hand rests on the small of your back while the other caresses your hair.

"yeah, the both of you," minho teases and jisung glares at the boy, but the older one just smiles back.

the rest of the boys watch the exchange between you and jisung with a slight ache in their chests as they remember how hard it was to say goodbye to their friends and family before leaving. chan looks around and he gathers everyone to leave, wanting to give you and jisung a minute alone to say your goodbyes before the driver takes you to the airport.

pulling away, jisung moves his hands to your face and brushes your hair back, some strands sticking to your skin because of tears as you hiccup. even when your hair is out of your face, he continues to stroke your hair back while the other hand is on your cheek, gently caressing the skin with the pad of his thumb. the two of you stare up at each other, sniffling.

"i love you," jisung whispers, his voice hoarse from crying.

you nod, sniffling and hiccuping in return, "i love you too."

jisung smiles down at you, "hey, i'll be back before you know it."

your eyelids flutter as you blink quickly, and your hands play with the back of the sweatshirt jisung is wearing.

"i'll text you everyday," he reminds, "i'll call you as much as i can, and as much our schedules and the time zones allow for."

you sigh shakily, "i'm gonna miss you so much."

"i'm going to miss you so much too, my love," jisung brushes your hair back again, "god, i wish i could just take you with me. two months away from you? that's too long."

you snicker, nodding in agreement, "i do too. but hey, i'll get to see so many videos of you taken by stay, doing your thing on stage."

your boyfriend smiles, gazing down at you lovingly.

"i'm so proud of you. look at you," you sigh, lips curled up in a smile, "my boyfriend is going on a world tour."

"do you know what that means?" you tilt your head in confusion, "souvenirs from every stop that remind me of you!"

since he left, both of you have been sending texts daily and video calls whenever your schedules permit it and when the time zones line up enough so it isn't too early or too late for either of you.

sometimes your calls only prompt you to miss jisung even more, wishing he was next to you and that his voice wasn't just coming through a device while he's on the other side of the world, but the distance also means you continue to long for the day jisung comes home. you know his parents long for that day as well, his mother sending you texts every couple of days asking when you're free so you can go out together. as jisung likes to put it–spending time with her future daughter-in-law.

however, as the number of days away from jisung increases, the number of days before jisung returns also decreases. with that in mind, you try to stay positive and look forward to the day he comes home.

now that the boys are in america, they've been quite busy rehearsing, checking and then rechecking their formations and any technical details that could go wrong during the concerts, the process repeating at each venue as they sync up their equipment with the new venues. their team organizing and making sure everything is okay with the venue and other organizers. as a result, jisung has been too busy to call late at night as he passes out the moment he's in his hotel room from the venue, then waking up a couple hours later to hop on a flight to the next destination.

he sends you texts here and there throughout his day, sending random photos of himself and the members during rehearsals or before and after the show. on jisung's end, he sent a text over when he landed early in the morning, saying he could probably hop on a call quickly when he gets to the hotel, seeing as they're going to be in inglewood for a little over a week for two shows instead of one. you were about to leave work when the message came through. going home for the evening when the message reminded you of your phone call with jisung's mother.

"hello, eomeonim (mother-in-law)," you greet when the line connects.

"y/n, myeoneuri (daughter-in-law)," she speaks into the phone, her tone sweet as usual. she doesn't say anything for a moment before speaking, "is this a bad time? you don't sound like you're at home?"

"ah, sorry eomeonim," you apologize, "i just got off the bus, but i'm on the way home now. but don't worry, i can talk if you need me."

"ah okay, i won't keep you too long then, myeoneuri," she assures before continuing, "have you spoken to jisung on the phone recently?"

you hum as you think, "I think it's been a couple of days since our last phone call; why? is he okay?"

you hear jisung's mother sigh on the other end of the line, "i'm a little worried, if i'm honest," you hum in acknowledgment and she continues, "he sounded quite down on our phone call yesterday and the day before. he told me not to worry when i asked… i know this might be a lot, but would you mind talking to him? if it's you, he'll open up more–at least, he'll have talked about what's on his mind."

"yeah, yeah, of course," you agree, "i'll see if we can call tonight, and i'll check up on him, see how he's doing, eomeonim. don't worry too much, i'm sure ji is okay!"

she chuckles on the other end, "ah, you sound just like him, y/n. don't tell him i sent you!"

you laugh in response to her rushed addition at the end of her statement: "i won't say anything," she sighs in relief, "was there anything else you were curious about?"

she hums, "nothing else, thank you so much, myeoneuri. i'll see you on the weekend, okay? come over whenever you want! the door is always open for you!"

your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you smile, "thank you, i'll see you in a couple of days. bye eomeonim!"

"goodbye, myeoneuri! get home safely. i love you," she bids her farewells, which you exchange right back with her before she hangs up the call.

thinking back to that conversation, you wonder what worried jisung's mother about him; was it how he spoke? his tone? the words he used? was he quite active in the conversation, or did he seem more passive? you wonder what exactly she meant by jisung sounding quite down, but you guess you'll figure it out when he calls you in the morning.

it's around eight in the morning when your phone rings from the bedside table. yunjin should already be awake and ready for work, so the ringer volume doesn't wake anyone up except you. you roll around, feeling around the bedside table for the device. you accept his call quickly and place the phone to your ear.

a deep yawn leaves your lips before you say, "ji baby?"

you hear him hum in acknowledgment on the other end before he replies, "yeah, baby, it's me." a sleepy smile forms on your lips at the sound of his voice. " did I wake you?"

you groan softly as you flick the lamp on, the sudden brightness causing you to squint, "yes but i don't mind. i just wanna hear your voice. are you back at the hotel now?"

"yeah, we got back a while ago. i just wanted to be ready for bed before calling; this way i can fall asleep while you're on the line," jisung explains, and you feel your cheeks heat up at his sentiments.

he continues to talk about what they did today. you're gradually more awake and more attentive as the minutes pass, so eventually, you realize what jisung's mother was referring to when it sounded like he's been down. jisung is speaking monotone, his voice softer, and when he speaks, it sounds like his mind is elsewhere.

when he's finished, you decide to segway into that conversation, "how are you feeling?"

he pauses for a moment, taken aback before he shrugs, "i'm tired, it's been a long day of rehearsal. what about you? how are you feeling?"

"i'm doing good, i'm hearing your voice, so i'm doing great," you answer quickly before he tries to shift the conversation to you, "are you physically tired or?"

jisung is lying in bed as he speaks to you, looking up at the ceiling and thinking of his replies, "yeah. dancing and all."

"emotionally?"

"emotionally?" he repeats to which you confirm, "i mean… i'm okay–better now since i'm hearing your voice after a couple of days… it's been a busy last couple of days."

you nod, running a hand through your tangled hair as you listen to jisung on the other end. his tone is still distracted as his words graze over how he's feeling, avoiding delving deeper into it. realizing that maybe he isn't ready to delve deeper into his emotions, you allow him to shift the conversation to your life and what you've been up to while he's been on tour–asking you how work has been and if anything new has occurred. you answer jisung honestly; there is nothing new at work as it's the same job you've had since getting into university; the only new events would be the lunch you have on the weekend with jisung's mother, aunt and grandmother.

the latter part of your updates brings a smile to jisung's lips, his heart warming at the thought of the most important women in his life spending quality time together. but at the same time, hearing your updates about your life back at home, no matter how small you think they are or if they're the same things that always happen, has jisung's chest aching in a completely different way.

"ji?" you call, not hearing anything coming from his end, "did you fall asleep?" you pause to listen, to survey whether or not you hear soft snores or heavy breathing that indicate that he is indeed asleep.

instead, jisung responds after a couple of moments, "i'm still here. i'm awake."

"are you okay?" you wonder, "if you're tired then i can go–"

"no, don't go," he quickly interrupts, "sorry."

"don't apologize, i just wanna make sure you're okay," you reassure, and you hear him hum in acknowledgment.

"i miss you," he declares softly, his voice solemn as he speaks.

"i miss you too, ji," you sigh, instinctively clutching the pillow closer to your chest.

the boy on the other end ponders for a moment before continuing, "i miss you a lot. i don't really know how to explain it," jisung blinks up at the ceiling, "i miss you all the time, but when we get back to the hotel or when i'm not performing, i miss you even more."

jisung's eyebrows knit in frustration as he continues to explain himself.

"i love being on stage, i love performing," he states, "i can't explain how i feel when i'm performing either, but… there's a feeling of contentment or fullness? i don't know… i just know i love to be up there. but…"

"but?" you encourage him to continue as his words trail off.

"but when i get back to the hotel, or when it's all over, i feel tired: the adrenaline doesn't last as long as it usually does. but even though i'm tired, it's hard to fall asleep."

you aren't sure where to place jisung's words, unsure if you've ever felt the way he's been feeling lately, uncertain if you can relate, but at the least, you want to understand and reassure him that you're there.

"there's a feeling of emptiness that kinda just sits there when i'm not on stage," his voice is softer when he says the word 'emptiness' like it's a fragile word, one he's unsure of, "i wasn't sure what it was before but listening to you talk started to help me realize what caused the emptiness."

"something i said helped you realize?" you repeat for clarification.

"yeah, listening to you talk about home, work, the local cafes, the conversations you have with my mom–just everything about your life at home," jisung lists, "i'm feeling homesick."

your lips part in awe when the last word leaves his mouth, the singular word allowing you to reconceptualize what he said previously and gain a greater understanding.

"i tried my best to distract myself and rehearse more to combat those feelings of emptiness but nothing seemed to work; it just stuck there. listening to you helped combat some of my homesickness but…"

"but it's still there," you finish his sentence, and he agrees with a sigh.

"i love being onstage, i feel so alive when i'm up there," now, when jisung speaks, his tone is clearer, and his thoughts are clearer, the way he's speaking signalling that instead of being lost in his own thoughts he's got both feet on the ground and he's working through them, "but i miss home so much. god… i miss you so damn much."

you smile sadly when you hear him sniffle.

"i miss my bed at the dorms, the air fryer at the dorms that we don't even use. i miss the smell of your laundry detergent and shampoo, i miss being in your arms, and you playing with my hair. i miss being at home."

jisung cries softly as he speaks, sniffling and continuing to list off the things that he misses at home. it brings tears to your eyes; using your comforter to dab the tears off your face.

"hey…" you call into the phone, "would it help if i sent little voice messages throughout the day so you could hear my voice? i can send pictures of things you love here too? just a couple more weeks, and you'll be here, and i'll hold you so tightly you get sick of me."

"i'll never be sick of being in your arms," he remarks, "and if it isn't too much, i would love that, all of it." jisung smiles at your suggestions, appreciative of you and your ideas to help him combat his homesickness until he's back in seoul.

"i'll try my best."

"baby?" he coos, prompting a soft response from you, "do you think we can video call? i wanna see your face before i sleep. can you stay until i fall asleep?"

your cheeks heat up from your boyfriend's suggestion, and your heart feels giddy at seeing his face for a couple of minutes before he falls asleep. " of course, baby."

[grandline-fics]

Ohhhh i really really really like your writing, it’s so very good!! Could i request some fluff with zoro? I was thinking about the reader being an artist, and he finds her sketchbook and is impressed by her art, and then he finds drawings of the crew and him. Or something like that, you can definitely change the idea. Thank you very much, i hope you have a good day/night!

DESCRIPTION: You’re an artist and he asks to see your sketchbook

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 680

A/N: Thank you for the request! I've been feeling a bit of writer's block creeping up but hopefully you like what I came up with.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

“You’re going to hurt your back if you keep hunching over like that.” Zoro told you as he looked over his shoulder to fix you with a meaningful look, amused to see you snap out of your trance to look up in surprise. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded you to sit up properly, you still ended up in this kind of position when you were intensely set on drawing in the sketchbook that was rarely far from your reach. He didn’t miss how your hand instinctively curled over the pages currently being worked on, protecting them from view but also using practiced care to avoid smudging the drawings. 

Zoro couldn’t help but note you were more protective of your sketchbook around him than you would be with the rest of the crew. Yes, you still would shield it initially from view but if asked you would reveal what you were currently working on. With him? You never showed it unless it was finished products on a canvas. Silently he wondered why he was different. Though he supposed he wasn’t one to ask outright compared to the likes of Luffy who was impulsive and excitable, Sanji, who gushed over the slightest thing, and even Robin who was naturally curious about art and anything intellectual. Compared to them, Zoro never felt the need to ask even when he did want to see your talent. “Can I see?” he asked.

You tensed in surprise and quickly let your gaze flicker to the sketchbook and back to his face. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to see, it was just you weren’t sure how he would react. Hesitantly you pulled your hand away and let the pages be revealed to him. Zoro stepped closer and lifted the book into his hands, he’d seen how you held it enough times to know the proper way to treat it without ruining any of your hard work. Slowly he started at the beginning, taking in scenes you’d drawn from previous adventures on different islands. 

Some pages held detailed studies of plants and landscapes, each bringing out a memory for him, whether it of a vague feeling of relaxation or a stronger emotion as he recalled the hard won fights they’d engaged on. Most of the pages however he knew had been taken from some place on the Sunny, the focus being some, if not all of the crew. It didn’t take him long to notice that he seemed to feature more heavily than the others. He would be lying if he didn’t feel some sort of satisfaction at that. 

For the first time since you’d let him look at the very thing you were most precious about he lifted his gaze to see you were purposely looking away from him. “It’s not like you to be insecure, you’re talented. Why are you so nervous?” He asked, pretending to be oblivious. Part of him hoped you’d give him an answer he’d been hoping on. Zoro watched you lightly chew on your bottom lip as you tried to form an answer. Finally you cleared your throat.

“I’m not insecure about my skill…” You began simply, slowly building the nerve to look at the swordsman while also trying to stop the growing blush on your face. “It’s just I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or anything, I know I’ve drawn you a lot.”

“You have?” Zoro couldn’t help the teasing tone creeping into his voice as he looked down at one page in particular that was a study of him training with his swords. “Hadn’t noticed.”

”Oh shut up!” You grumbled lightly, taking the sketchbook back into your hold. “It’s not my fault I can only draw things that interest me. It’s just how I am.” Quickly you clamped your mouth shut, the blush burning on your skin stronger now as Zoro grinned down at you, looking even more pleased with himself. He only wished he’d asked to see your sketchbook sooner had he known this was what he was going to get.

[sixosix]

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness. 

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

[emelinstriker]

Hello, I just wanted to tell you that I love your art and writing. Especially your Special Stranger Nezha AU. Everytime you add more art or info, I get super excited. I can’t wait for part 4. I have a question that's been bouncing around my mind for a while. How does the reader find out about Nezha being, well… Nezha? Do they figure it out themselves through a series of shenanigans? Or does he just tell them after a long angsty debate with himself? Does Wukong get involved?

Pretty sure he wasn't going to ever tell them. Considering he was pretty sure it was against the laws of the Celestial Realm to be romantically involved with a mortal, so he believed the Reader knowing about him being a deity would only complicate things between them. After all, he was trying to see how living a normal mortal life was life, since he was never able to really experience that.

But he's bad at hiding his identity.

Like, second-hand-embarrassment levels of bad.

Especially when Sun Wukong takes pride in playing Nezha's wingman, and is internally in pain everytime he sees Nezha accidentally dropping info that only the celestial would have. The fact that he's so bad at hiding his identity that he didn't even give the Reader a fake name was already pathetic enough for him-

So the Monkey King decided to jump in and introduce himself rather smugly.

Nezha was definitely not happy and accidentally revealed that he could summon his spear.

Good thing the Reader already had a hunch Nezha was pretending way too hard not to stand out. Which ironically made him stand out. But the spear was the ultimate give-away.

At least the reveal gave Nezha some peace of mind, and made the Reader freak out because they were friends with a god they've read stories about.

It also gave Wukong an excuse to ship the couple even harder and tease Nezha with both romantic ideas regarding their dynamic lmao

[knightinink]

Blitzo & Fizzarolli: Some Character Analysis

I've been thinking about this ever since ep7 came out, & the scene of a teenage Blitzo & Fizzarolli walking home after the Mammon concert has revealed a part of their relationship dynamic when they were younger.

Wherever Blitzo goes, Fizz will follow, & Blitzo protects him from danger.

Just from watching them, it's apparent to me that between the two of them, Fizz is a lot more self-conscious & sensitive than Blitzo is, and is a more "wears his heart on his sleeve" type of person. Fizz strikes me as someone who would want to help someone if he could, even if it makes him uncomfortable (ex: the fizz-bots Mammon wanted). Fizz could very easily get himself stuck in situations he doesn't particularly want to be in, as he doesn't stick up for himself.

One reason he & Blitzo go together so well is because Blitzo does, & we've seen that during their interaction with Creepzo. Fizz is immediately uncomfortable & Blitzo notices, & he starts threatening the guy to beat it or he's gonna make him swallow his fangs. But Fizz doesn't pull away, clearly not wanting this interaction to be happening right now, but it's like he doesn't know how to say "no", and eventually just ends it with "We have to go now, thanks though!" in a falsely-polite tone.

I LOVE this next short scene because of Fizz's body language.

Fizz is still hunched inwards & hugging himself, clearly uncomfortable & attempting to self-soothe, but he looks back at the guy as he forlornly screams his name. This gives me the impression that Fizz feels bad for making the guy upset, and even though he was being a massive creep, Fizz would've possibly turned back to apologize & would work something out with the guy to make him feel better (i.e. what I think happened with both Cash & Mammon, as both are manipulative to get what they want & Blitzo wasn't there to stop them).

But when he looked back at Blitzo & noticed he hadn't stopped walking, he quickly kept by him, as if seeing his best friend ignore the guy snapped him out of what would've been a very dangerous decision, & Fizz kept going.

& we see that Blitzo's instincts were correct to get Fizz out of there, because as soon as he leaves, Creepzo drops the sad act & starts angrily hurling insults at Fizz, showing his true nature.

"Fine, fuck you! You think you're better than me you elitist prick? Your act's fucking trash anyways!"

& while this comment clearly upsets Fizz, he keeps on following Blitzo away from the danger, trusting the other imp to keep him safe. Once they're away from the immediate threat, it's time for Blitzo to do damage control.

We can tell from Fizz's body language that, even though he's this successful & renowned circus performer, he's still really self-conscious & doesn't think he's as good as he is. He's been working to get where he is for practically his entire life, & still it only takes one person's nasty comment to bring him crashing down.

"What if my acts are trash? What if I'm never good enough?"

"Hey, don't let one asshole get to you, okay? You are plenty good enough!"

Blitzo isn't just saying that to make Fizz feel better in the moment, he's saying it because he genuinely means it, & he knows just how good the other imp is at what he does, even if he doesn't see it. Blitzo cares so much about Fizzarolli, & hates seeing him upset, which is why his next instinct after the danger is gone is to comfort & reassure him.

I think that, as a teenager himself, Blitzo is also self-conscious to a degree (& we see him spiral into his self-hatred tendencies as an adult & that had to start somewhere), but he's much better at concealing it than Fizz is. We know people's opinion of him (aka. Cash) & how Creepzo didn't acknowledge him as a performer at the same circus Fizz works for, so it's assumed that people know he isn't as good as Fizz is. And while it hurts him, Blitzo has been toughened by the world in a different way than Fizz has, hence why he reacts the way he does.

They were both forced to grow up too fast, being circus performers from their childhood & in their teenage years & being hardened by the world comes with that, but it affected Blitzo & Fizz differently where Blitzo would rather give the cold-shoulder & tell people to fuck off while Fizz is much more emotionally-inclined & is more likely to give in against what he wants.

Blitzo puts his opinion of himself above others, but Fizz is the exact opposite, feeling like he constantly needs to prove himself to others & who's opinions really don't matter. Fizz craves validation & Blitzo wants him to see that no one's opinion matters but his own, & once Fizz can see himself for the amazing, talented individual he is, he will be happier & more confidant than he ever was before.

But, unfortunately, because they were separated, Fizz was manipulated by Mammon into doing things he didn't want to do, all because he felt like he needed to prove himself & that he was still good enough.

-

Thanks for reading this angst fest! Here's some happy Blitzo & Fizz for getting through to the end, to lift the mood a bit!

[scarisd3ad]

Promptober day 26 - comforting cc after mike scared him

Pairing - cc x sister!reader, mike x sister!reader

Warnings - mentions of bad father/abuse

Promptober ‘23 masterlist

Main masterlist

Taglist

I sat on the couch, my arm crossed over my chest as I watched TV while both my younger brothers sat in their rooms doing their own thing. Mike is being his usually angsty teen self and Evan playing with his toys. Our father was out working like he always was leaving me to watch both of them. A loud wail and evil laughter interrupted my TV show before the sound of feet pattering against the wood floor. I’m met with my youngest sibling turning the corner, tears pouring down his cheeks as he leapt up into my arms.

“what’s wrong?! what’s wrong?!” I ask frantically as I grip his face with both my hands. My thumb comes up to wipe away the tears that were falling down his cheeks. “Micheal...” he cried out before sobs interrupted his sentence. I let out a sigh. I don’t know what was wrong with Mike, he always liked to fuck with Evan. he scared Evan so bad he couldn’t sleep in his bed most of the time he’d opt for sleeping in our father’s bed.

Maybe it was because Evan was the favorite after Lizzy, but Lizzy was gone now, so obviously Evan was our father’s favorite. Maybe Mike envied how our father treated Evan better than him. Ever since before I could remember, Dad treated Mike the worst. I don’t know why, though.

Mike did have our father’s looks. He had the same facial features and hair color; he was a carbon copy of our father. So much so that he was often mistaken for our father. Maybe that’s where Dad’s problems lay. Maybe he was so insecure that he took that out on the son who looked the most like him. That was unfair, but that never gave Mike the right to take that out on Evan.

I pull Evan close before whispering, “Stay here alright? I’ll talk to him.” Evan shakes his head “No-no don’t he’ll scare me again.” I let out a sigh “I’ll make sure he won’t” I get up off of the couch and begin to walk down the hallway towards Mike’s room. The door is closed, showing off the ‘do not enter’ sign that was hung on it. My fist bangs against the wood. “Micheal open the door. We need to talk,” My voice is stern, the type of voice our mother used to use when she needed to get a handle on us. “it’s open,” I hear him mutter. My hand reaches down, and I place it against the cold metal doorknob. I turn the knob and push the door open, revealing the dark room.

I could see him hunched over in his chair next to his desk with a foxy mask clutched in his left hand. “Why-why do you keep doing this? It’s not fair,” I say, my hands resting against my hips. “You know why,” he mutters, “well then take it out on Dad, not Evan” I can almost hear mike’s eyes roll. “c’mon mike, just lay off of him for a while god dammit. treat him like a fucking human” I hear Mike groan before the Rollie chair he’s sat in turns so he’s facing away from me. “Dad doesn’t treat me like a human,” Mike mutters, “and that’s not Evan’s fault” I whisper. “wh-why does he treat him like a human and not me? We’re both his sons. ob-obviously he loved Liz the most Bec-because she was his little girl, and you-you are too but dads always hated me ever since I was born, he never hated Evan” I could hear mikes voice crack as he spoke which made my heart drop. I’ve never seen my brother cry, never in my 17 years of life. Not when our dad would purposely forget him at school, or when dad would beat him after he got c’s in math. Not even a tear would fall down his cheek. “At first I just assumed he never wanted a son, bu-but then Evan came along and he’s the best thing to ever happen to him wh-what’d I do to deserve that?”

“Mike...” I whisper, my voice giving out in my throat as I stare at my brother. “You-he’s an asshole, you know that,” I murmur as I shove my hands into my pockets. “that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt my feelings,” he mutters with a sigh as the chair he’s sat in turns so he’s facing me once again. His face is illuminated by the small desk lamp that sat on his desk, revealing tears that are welling up in his eyes. He blinks back tears before he mutters, “Get out” I let out a sigh as I whisper “Mike let’s just talk; the three of us, put all this shit behind us, let Evan know you-“

“Get out!” he shouts as his left hand comes up to wipe his cheek. “fine” I nod as I reluctantly exit his room, making sure to close the door behind me as I leave. I wipe the tear that had absentmindedly fallen down my cheek. “Is he going to stop?” Evan peeks around the corner, his cheeks tear-stained and his eyes red from tears. “Yes, Ev,” I whisper as I walk over and scoop him up into my arms.

Sometimes I feel like the worst sister ever for not being able to protect Mike. he probably thinks I’m the worst sister ever because now I do everything, I wasn’t able to do for him for Evan, but I was 4 when Mike was born, I was 8 when the abuse started there was nothing I could do. I could barely pick up my backpack, let alone stop my dad from mentally and physically abusing my 5-year-old brother.

But now I’m 17 and I’m not putting up with the bullshit from our father. Now I do my best to stop our father, but most of the time it feels like I’m never enough because I never stopped him when we were little.

Taglist

@leonkennedylefthand @maexyn @truecobblepot @mfnqueen1 @zoey5252 @nezukos-number1fan @bxbyyyjocelyn @dr3amyk1ng

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Little Things

Pairings: Jake Seresin x female reader. Synopsis: Jake takes care of his girl when she has her period. Warnings: mentions of period symptoms, infertility, depression. This is inspired by a lovely request I got from @callsignmaverick5

You groaned in agony, rolling onto your side and tucking your legs up so you were in a foetal position, hugging your knees close to your chest. The pain grew spreading across your lower abdomen and causing you to tense your muscles and wait for the pain to subside. Your period had been late which had you a little worried for the last few days, it wasn’t that you didn’t want kids. Both you and Jake really wanted kids but your period had come with a vengeance and now you were paying for it. You hadn’t been especially trying for kids, you and Jake had a great sex life, that man was like a horny teenager and could barely keep his hands off you. Closing your eyes slowly you willed the discomfort to stop, easing yourself further under the bed covers as the pain continued. You had been so caught up in your affliction that you didn’t hear Jake and the others come home, all piling into the living room chatting loudly to each other.

“Hang on a minute guys I’m just gonna check on her, make yourselves at home,” Jake said, making his way down the corridor to your shared bedroom. “Darlin’ are you in here?” He pushed open the door and was met with an empty room, minus a crumpled bed with a small figure hiding beneath the covers. “Baby girl, are you ok?” Jake perched on his side of the bed, leaning across and pulling the covers back to reveal your small, hunched form. “Oh, Darlin’,” he cooed, pushing the covers back the rest of the way and pulling you against him, immediately slipping his hand down to cradle your lower abdomen. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be this month,” he said looking down at you through hooded lashes. You could tell he was disappointed and you wanted to apologise to him but another wave of agony ripped through you and you doubled over, leaning into Jake’s side and whining. You could hear the others chatting amorously downstairs and Jake sighed. He had to admit he’d been looking forward to movie night with the gang, but he loved you more and right now you needed him.

“Don’t worry about me, Jake, I’m fine. Go spend time with the others. I know you’ve been looking forward to it.” You shuffled away from him and pulled the covers back up to your chin.

“Not a chance, Babygirl. I'm here for you Darlin’, remember ‘in sickness and in health’,” he used air quotation marks as he quoted your wedding vows, causing you to let out a small giggle.

“Right, I’ll kick the others out and then I’m getting paracetamol, a hot water bottle, ice cream and Bill Pullman and Sandra Bullock and then I’ll be right back, Baby.” You watched as Jake hurried away with his mental list of all your sickness supplies. You heard Jake talking quietly to the others who all complained loudly until Phoenix gave them a piece of her mind and they all went silent, departing your home respectfully and leaving you in peace. Jake was crashing around in the kitchen before reappearing in the doorway with a tray stacked high with all your essentials. He placed the tray down and moved over to you, helping you shuffle forward so he could place more pillows behind your back. He handed you the hot water bottle which you accepted gratefully, placing it onto your abdomen and immediately relaxing into the soothing warmth. Jake set up the DVD and sunk back onto the bed next to you as the titles for ‘While You Were Sleeping’ began playing through the small tv on the wall. It had always been your comfort film, ever since you were a kid you and your mum would watch it whenever one of you was sick and this had been a tradition that Jake had adopted too. He handed you a mug of hot chocolate and two paracetamol, giving you a small kiss on your forehead. “Better?”

“Much better,” you told him, snuggling into his side and cracking open the ice cream, it was triple chocolate which just so happened to be yours and Jake’s favourite. As you ate your eyes fixed on the screen, Jake’s large hand coming down to rest on your abdomen, holding the water bottle in place for you. Hs other arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you impossibly close. These were the times you cherished most with your husband, not the grand gestures or great outbursts of love but the little things like comforting you on your period, doing the food shopping so you didn’t have to, making sure the laundry was done, cooking dinner if he was home early, these were the most thoughtful tasks Jake could perform in your eyes. Now snuggled into his side watching your favourite movie you couldn’t have loved him any more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @t-nd-rfoot @topguncultleader @flyboyjake @wkndwlff

[pagesfromthevoid]

I'm always ready for drunk benedict shenanigans!!!!!!!!

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | 16

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Drunken shenanigans. Sad Benedict for a bit

Author’s Note: I find this to be the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever written. Well, the last 1/3 of it.

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

As soon as the front door of the Bridgerton home slammed behind the Everly’s, chaos erupted.

Eloise was sitting practically catatonic on the couch, trying to come to terms with what she had. Not only had she revealed a secret about Benedict to his fiancée, but she had also sic’d the Queen of bloody England on Miss Everly. There was practically no coming back from that. It would be no surprise if she did not want to marry Benedict any longer, because of Eloise’s behavior.

Which made Eloise feel awful.

It was rare for Eloise to feel guilty for her actions; she usually meant well and no harm came from whatever she was doing. But this was different. This was…this was life ruining behavior that she had taken part in. If the Queen had even found an inkling of evidence that could suggest Miss Everly was Lady Whistledown, there was no doubt the Queen would have her locked away for good.

It was at this realization that Eloise finally started to cry, burying her face in her hands as she apologized profusely. Daphne and Violet both sat on either side of her, trying to console her without letting her entirely off the hook. It was hard to see Eloise —the fiercely independent Bridgerton girl —like this and not want to console and coddle her. But what she had done was beyond mere gossip and rumors. They couldn’t simply let it slide.

“Daphne, why don’t you take Eloise upstairs?” Violet ordered softly, giving her eldest daughter a pointed look. Daphne did not argue, pulling Eloise from the couch and into her arms. “I will join you shortly; I need a word with your brother.” Violet’s tone was soft but stern, and there was no doubt anger was bubbling inside the viscountess as the two sisters left.

Anthony turned to his mother, jaw clenched tight as Benedict sat in a chair in the corner. He was hunched over, hands covering his face. There had been little to no word from him since the Everly’s parted; a few mutterings here and there. Curses and heavy sighs. He couldn’t even begin to really process what happened tonight. It was as if in one fell swoop and everything had gone completely wrong.

“Benedict,” Violet said, standing in front of her son. Her voice was that of a scolding mother; one he had grown familiar with growing up. But Benedict did not look up. “Please, Benedict. Look at me.”

He took a deep breath, pulling his hands from his face. His cheeks were splotchy and red, eyes brimmed with tears that he was trying to hold back. Violet’s demeanor shifted almost entirely, seeing how distraught her son was. She reached out, running her hand through his hair gently before pulling him into her arms. It was then that Benedict finally gave in, letting the sobs that were trapped inside out. Violet shushed him gently, running her hands through his hair and down his back, soothing him much like did when he was small.

Anthony stood back, leaning against the wall and simply watched with an ache in his chest that he could not ignore. Seeing his brother so put out over tonight’s events weighed heavily on Anthony’s shoulders. It was his duty, as the head of the family, to ensure things like this did not happen. But in his distraction with Kate, he had lost sight of his responsibilities. And now there sat his brother, sobbing into their mother’s arms over the thought of losing Miss Everly entirely.

For a moment —just briefly —Anthony thought he was…jealous. The love that his brother had for Miss Everly was so strong, so passionate that the very thought of losing her drove Benedict to tears. And Anthony…he suddenly wanted that.

He suddenly realized he had that —with Kate. The thought of losing Kate made him feel that way.

Anthony had to shove that realization as far down as he physically could.

“Mother, please. I think you should see to Eloise,” Anthony finally interrupted, pushing off the wall. “I will see to Benedict, as well as the state of affairs with Lord Everly in the morning.”

Violet hesitated, looking down at her second eldest son as he continued to sob into her skirts. Truly, her motherly instinct did not want to leave him. Not when he was so overcome with emotion; Benedict had always been a more sensitive boy. And she was a bit concerned about giving him over to Anthony who was —and she thought this with so much love —not the most sensitive person.

After a few moments of staring each other down, Violet relented and released her hold on Benedict. She held his cheeks in her hands though, making him look up at her as she wiped his tears from his cheeks.

“It will be alright, my love,” she whispered, smiling down at him reassuringly. “Love always conquers all, even if it hurts occasionally.”

Benedict watched his mother through watery eyes, nodding weakly as she pulled away. As Violet made her way out of the room, she stopped to rest a hand on Anthony’s arm. The two shared a silent moment, with Violet pleading with her eyes to be sensitive. Anthony simply nodded as she stepped out.

Once Violet was gone, Anthony clapped Benedict on the back. “Get up. We are going to go find Colin, and the three of us are going to spend the evening determining how to get her back.”

Benedict looked up at Anthony, chest heaving as he tried to calm his breathing. “Anthony, I do not —“

“You are not going to argue with me. Get up.”

*****

“I’m sorry —what exactly happened again?” Colin asked, sitting in a chair in Will Mondrich’s gentlemen's club.

“Eloise managed to ruin Benedict’s engagement in a single day,” Anthony explained, smiling politely at Will as he offered the three more whiskey. “As well as possibly ruining Miss Everly’s reputation with the Queen.”

“Christ,” Colin groaned, knocking back his drink before Will walked away. Colin looked to Benedict, who was slouched back into the chair with absolute disinterest. “I don’t think I have ever seen him this despondent before.”

“You act as if I’m not here,” Benedict mumbled, pressing his glass to his lips as he drank.

“You may as well not be,” Colin countered, brow raised. “That is the first thing you’ve said all evening.”

Anthony nodded in agreement, watching Benedict with a small frown now. “What exactly happened, Benedict? What did you do?”

Benedict huffed, polishing off his drink. Will was busy helping others, so Benedict reached over and took Colin’s from his hands.

“Excuse you —“

Anthony hushed Colin, waving his complaint off before telling Benedict to continue. Benedict finished off Colin’s whiskey next. “I…I did not do anything. Not while I was with her, at least,” he explained, resting his hand on the top of his head and tugging at his hair. “You remember my brief…relationship with Madame Delacroix, don’t you?”

Anthony and Colin exchanged wary looks, nodding once each. Benedict ran his hand over his face as he continued. “I…well, I told her about Tessa at the academy but I did not tell her about Genevieve. I was concerned it would make things uncomfortable for her whenever went to the shop, I did not think it would be an issue.”

“It sounds like she’s mad you did not warn her, Mr. Bridgerton,” Alice, Will’s wife, suddenly pointed out as she stood behind them with a decanter of drink.

“Why would she need to be warned?” Benedict asked, holding his glass out to her. His brow was furrowed, and his speech was slurred.

“Madame Delacroix is the only modiste the ton uses,” Alice pointed out as she refilled his glass, as well as his brothers. “Which means that she interacts very regularly with everyone; including your fiancée. And I overheard Genevieve talking about today with the ladies in the market —she was asking about you and only you during the fitting.”

“Oh hell,” Benedict whispered, covering his mouth. Then he groaned. “Even if Eloise had not told her —she is far too smart to not have figured it out on her own, then.”

“Imagine interacting with someone she has bedded —several times a month,” Alice offered, giving Benedict a knowing look before she walked away. “I am quite sure you would not want to figure that out on your own. You would want a warning.”

Benedict made a face, turning a bit red as he actually imagined her with anyone else but him. It…it killed him. Made Benedict’s heart ache, and like he was going to begin to cry again. Violence was not his initial reaction, which was for the best truly. But the overwhelming emotion was a bit much.

Anthony leaned back in his chair, nursing his whiskey as Colin watched Alice walk away. Anthony had kissed Kate; and every day, Kate and Edwina were together. Was this not exactly what Benedict was going through?

“You must tell her the truth,” Anthony determined. Though he wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or Benedict now.

“And when will that happen? She will not let me call on her; you saw how Lord Everly looked at me as he left. There is no way —“

“Tonight,” Anthony interrupted, setting his glass down as he stood.

“Tonight?” Colin gaped, staring up at his brother. Then he looked at Benedict, who was clearly intoxicated as he tried to stand. Colin shook his head. “Anthony, that is a terrible idea.”

“No, no. It is a brilliant idea,” Benedict announced, finally standing up properly. He wobbled some and Anthony steadied him. “It is romantic.”

“Come now, Colin,” Anthony grinned, feeling some relief as Benedict began to march out of the club. “Are you not always talking about grand gestures?”

“And are you not always telling us to behave?” Colin countered as they followed Benedict out.

“I will not let Benedict lose Miss Everly. You did not see him at the house. It was…it was truly the most heartbreaking thing I have ever seen.”

Colin narrowed his eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Anthony whacked him on the back of the head as Benedict announced loudly in the streets, “You will all be blinded by my devotion!”

*****

She had bid her father goodnight, thanking him again for helping her through her anxieties. Annalise had brushed out her hair and braided it neatly, promising her that the morning brought a new day and things would get better. Once her maid was dismissed, she sat at her desk and tapped her quill against the blank page as she thought king and hard about what she wanted to write.

It took an hour or two, with her candle burning until much of the wax had disappeared, but she had several pages written down by the time she snapped the tip of her quill. Her fingers were stained black with ink, and she took her quill breaking as a sign to take a break for the night.

Standing from her desk, she gathered her pages and stacked them neatly, slipping them into the drawer face down on top of a pile of pages already there. For a moment, she admired the pile; it was at least fifty pages of writing, not including what was in her journal. Work she was proud of and would piece together soon enough.

Her admiration was cut short by a tapping against her window. At first, she simply assumed it was rain. It would not have been surprising; it rained often enough and the early drops of rain always rapped quietly at first. But the tapping became harder, like something was being thrown. And it was when she stepped in front of the window that she could hear her name, muffled by the glass, being quietly yelled up to her.

Brow furrowed, she wrapped her robe tightly around herself and opened the window as a rock flew past her head and landed in her bedroom. She glanced over it, frowning deeply, before she peered outside her window finally.

Below stood Benedict, disheveled and puffy eyed. Even in the dim light of the night, she could tell his face was flushed and his hair was a mess.

“Benedict, what on earth are you doing?” She demanded, staring down at him.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighed, staring up at her dreamily.

“Are you…are you drunk?” She demanded again, leaning a bit further out of her window.

“I am,” he admitted with a grin, still looking up at her with a dreamy expression. “On you, and the love I have for you. I cannot lose you.”

“Benedict, please go home —“

“Absolutely not,” he quickly interrupted, motioning around him. “Home is wherever you may be, my love. And you are here —therefore I am, in fact, home.”

She watched him curiously, leaning now against her windowsill with her chin resting in her palm. Her attention was drawn, momentarily, to the bushes to the side that suddenly rustled. Poorly concealed, and clearly encouraging this behavior, were Anthony and Colin. A smile crept its way to her face; though she forced it away.

“Benedict, please. I am not ready to talk about what happened yet,” she explained, though she was watching him with an amused look in her eye.

It was a sweet gesture, coming to her window like this. And she would happily forgive him in the morning —but he was drunk, and she was certain he would not recall this tomorrow.

“I have spent all evening wrecked,” he continued, completely ignoring her request. She watched him still, rolling her eyes now as she finally just let him have his moment. “I have cried for hours over the thought of losing you, my love. My poor mother, consoling me because I am a fool.”

“And why are you a fool, Benedict?” She inquired, curious if he even knew why she was upset.

“Because I did not tell you about Madame Delacroix and myself. I was trying to protect you —your heart, your sensibilities,” he admitted, holding his hands over his heart. “But I should have known better. You are brilliant, and capable. You are not fragile, or delicate —well, no. You are delicate, in a wonderful way. But not delicate in the way that cannot handle the truth —“

Benedict stopped for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was saying. His thoughts were muddled, and she watched with continued amusement as he tried to match his mouth to his thoughts. She tapped her fingers against her cheek as she watched him, unable to keep the smile from spreading once more.

“You are not a fragile flower that must be preserved,” he finally decided on, looking up at her once more. “You are the wisteria that surrounds the gardens. You flourish, and you can endure the seasons, no matter how difficult they may be. You are evergreen, and beautiful. And every moment that I am with you, I am reminded of the wisdom of the oaks that have grown here for hundreds of years. You deserve so much more than I have given you; you do not need me to shelter you from the truth. And I should have known better to think you did.

“You have shared yourself with me,” he continued, clutching his heart still with one hand, the other outstretched to her. “You have pinned your heart to my sleeve and I fear I have broken it. But I love you so very much, and I will piece together the broken parts of your heart with my own if it will bring you into my arms once more.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she realized she had started crying during his monologue. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, looking down at him with a soft smile. It felt like her heart was swelling in her chest as she stood up straight, now resting her hand over it gently. Even if her father had not helped ease her concerns and forgive Benedict, this moment would have done it for her.

“You are a fool, Benedict Bridgerton,” she finally said with a small sigh. “A wonderful, loving fool.”

Benedict broke into a bright smile as he stared up at her. “Does this mean you still wish to marry me?”

“I was never going to call off our wedding,” she admitted with a sheepish laugh. “I had long forgiven you before you even arrived here tonight.”

“A grand gesture and I did not even have to do it,” he laughed, running his hands through his hair.

“Oh, no,” she scolded playfully, leaning on her windowsill once more. “You certainly needed to do this. It was remarkable.”

“I love you,” he announced proudly, unable to help himself as he did so. “I love you more than I can even bear.”

“I love you too,” she promised, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I would invite you to stay tonight, but I do believe sneaking you in would be more difficult than usual. And I am quite sure your brothers are waiting.”

Benedict glanced back at Anthony and Colin, who were slowly trying to back away as they were spotted. But Benedict just laughed, shaking his head. ���To hell with them,” he determined, approaching the wall of her home. She peered over the edge once more, brow raised as he pulled against the fencing that held various vine plants. “Who says I must sneak in through the door?”

“Benedict, that is a terrible idea —“

“Nonsense,” he insisted, testing his footing on it before boosting himself up.

She covered her eyes, watching through her fingers as he scaled the side of her house. Colin was hitting Anthony repeatedly, whispering harshly that Benedict was going to get himself killed but Anthony’s harsh shushing cut him off. Benedict reached for her windowsill, taking a moment to push himself off the wall and into her bedroom.

She stepped back quickly as he landed with a loud thud, and she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in her chest. Benedict blinked a few times, centering himself for a moment, before he slowly stood up. A few seconds of silence filled the air before he finally looked down at her with that crooked grin of his that melted her heart.

“I cannot believe you just climbed through my window.”

Benedict reached out, taking her gently by the waist to pull her in. “I would climb through dozens of windows to be with you.”

“Perhaps we should just use the front door next time?” She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer.

Benedict hummed in reply, resting his forehead against hers gently. “Whatever you want. Anything you want. So long as you will have me —I will do whatever you want, my love.”

“You will be the death of me, Benedict.”

———

Taglist: @queensgirl718 @drowninginaseaofbooks @severewobblerlightdragon @wildflowerel @just-an-ace-elf @kamala-khann

[bullet-prooflove]

BabyMiller! Series Part Four: Namesake- Benny Miller x Reader

Tagging: @aaronhtchnrs @mysoulisasunflower @xoxabs88xox @daniacatt @itspdameronthings @kabloswrld @whoreforhondo

Part One: Lemon Trees

Part Two: Twelve Weeks

Benny was trapped inside a nightmare. He had been sitting in this waiting room for what seemed like hours unable to tear himself away from the room for fear of missing some vital news in regard to his lover and child. He didn't give a damn that he was still sitting in his pyjamas or that his large feet were entirely bare. His head was in his hands, his elbows digging into his knees as he replayed the last few hours, he had spent with you before you had drifted into sleep.

"We are not naming him after my father." Benny stated clearly with a defiant shake of his head for empathise. "I don't want my son to grow into that legacy."

You pulled a face at his declaration. The two of you were sitting upon the bed, tucked under the warm sheets. You were propped up against Benny's chest, the back of your head resting upon his shoulder as you reviewed the list of baby names with an eager eye.

Benny's strong arm was wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you even closer into his loving embrace. His free hand resting upon the place where the beautiful baby boy resided happily, sleeping inside of his mother. He couldn't keep his hands off you and you didn't seem to mind. He could sense your need for reassurance underneath the surface of their bond. He knew that you had expected him to back away from you, you must have spent hours fretting about his reaction before finally breaking the news to him.

"We want something that encompasses both heritages, I want this baby to have some understanding of his roots." You said, your pen tapping against the notepad on your lap as your forehead creased in concentration.

"Luka means 'bringer of light', I’ve never felt as happy as I did upon finding out about our baby." Benny supplied, thinking about his feelings regarding the creation of his son.

There was something about the name that felt right, it seemed to settle in a place inside of the two of you. It conjured the image of a happy and strong child, one with Benny's eyes and unruly dark hair. His life burned so brightly before you and you found yourself curling up against your man as Benny beamed at the future that the two of you were creating.

That future was fading fast, Benny could feel it slipping away through his fingers as he hunched in his chair struggling to hold onto the fine threads of control. He was struggling to comprehend how this could be happening. He was terrified he would never get to hold his newborn son in his arms or see your eyes shine with adoration for your child. That fear was eating him up inside, if he lost his family there would be nothing else to live for. He knew he’d fall back into old habits, the drinking, the partying, the girls. He’d drown himself until he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Will was sitting beside him, his hand rubbing the space between his brother’s shoulder blades. Benny's distress was imminent, everyone in the room could feel it seeping into their bones as they lounged in the waiting area desperate for news. It had been two hours since you’d come through into the Emergency Room and there had been no news since.

Santi was sitting on the opposite side of Benny, his body prone and rigid, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He hated not being in control. In this situation he could do nothing, it was out of his hands and beyond his expertise. It made him feel useless, he wanted to take away Benny's pain and ease his trauma but the damage was already done.

Frankie was sitting beside Santi, his foot constantly tapping against the white tiles as he stared at the doors across from them. It had been a timely evening and he was very aware that this could stretch long into the night. He’d stay here for as long as it took to see this through.

The double doors opened revealing a doctor clad in sky blue scrubs. Her dark hair was scraped back into a dishevelled bun at the nape of her neck. Benny was on his feet in an instant, his eyes frantically searching her gaze.

"They're both stable." The doctor informed him as he stared at her with apprehension. "They're gonna be ok."

Enjoying my work with Benny? Add yourself to his taglist!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[chaoticstrata]

Soup from January prompt for your oc x Rass Ordo.

I am so sorry this took so long. Been in a bit of a writing drought. Thank you for the prompt! :) I'm probably going to expand on this one later--I still very much want to get to this point with my Aketho fic series before I do, though.

Please enjoy!

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

“You’re…cooking…”

“Good to know you haven’t lost your observational skills with your old age, Jekiah,” Rass quipped as he tasted the broth. Could use more salt, he thought as he added a pinch to the soup.

“Very funny,” Jekiah snorted, moving over to where Rass was hunched over a large pot of simmering soup. “Why are you cooking?”

“Zabe’s sick, pretty bad case of the flu,” the younger Mandolorian explained, stirring the pot carefully as his brother leaned in to sniff. “I thought I’d make him some soup to help him feel better.”

He tried his damnedest not to blush when Jekiah gave him a searching look, gray eyebrow raised high on his forehead. But his ears had other plans as he felt them heat up--traitorous bastards.

“I see,” Jekiah said, leaning against the counter next to him. “Zabe is the smuggler captain you’ve been working with recently, correct?”

“He is,” Rass confirmed, pointedly not looking at his older brother.

“Hmm,” Jekiah hummed before a soft chuckle escaped him. “Never thought I’d see the day where you’re smitten with someone.”

“I am not smitten--”

“You’re cooking for him,” the older man stated, giving Rass a very pointed look. “You don’t cook for just anyone, Rass.”

For his part, Rass did the very mature action of pouting and looking away. That lip jutted out more as his brother chuckled again. He hated how Jekaih could make him feel like a little kid again. “Yeah, well, Zaberial’s not just anyone…”

“I can tell,” Jekiah said, voice growing soft and fond. It was enough of a change to peak Rass’ curiosity. Looking back revealed his brother smiling at him with…pride? Or something similar to it. Either way, it didn’t help Rass’ blush in the least…bastard. Jekiah didn’t say anything further on the subject. Instead, he switched to asking about the soup. “What recipe are you using?”

“The one that Ma always made us when we were sick,” Rass replied, offering Jekiah a taste, “What do you think?”

“Hmm,” the older man looked thoughtful as he mulled over the flavor, “Not bad, but could use a bit more heat.”

“Everything could use a bit more heat to you,” Rass rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to not scare the captain off…and setting his mouth on fire with what you consider a ‘normal’ heat level would not help.”

“Fair enough,” Jekiah chuckled, “Although it would help clear his sinuses.”

The younger Mando sighed. “I’ll give you that one, but there are easier ways to clear sinuses that don’t require losing the ability to taste.”

“True…even I would take those other methods over spicy food,” the older man laughed softly.

Rass shook his head before nodding over to a nearby kettle. “Since you’re here bothering me, mind getting the water going for some tea?”

“Of course,” Jekiah said, already heading to the kettle to fill it. “Would you like me to pull out the tea as well?”

The younger Mando hesitated a moment. The tea he had in mind would tell more about Zaberial than what he was sure the captain would probably be comfortable with. Especially since he hadn’t even told Rass about it yet--unless the tea was his way of telling Rass. He slightly doubted that. But Tal Sarad tea wasn’t exactly a regular leisurely tea; it was mainly used by Mandolorians to help with menstrual cycle symptoms. The tea was not traded outside the clans save for rare occasions, but since the captain’s brother was a Mando, Zabe could get his hands on it.

Rass knew if he didn’t say anything, Jekiah would suspect something was amiss--although not the reason for it. He cleared his voice and said, “Sure. Tal Sarad.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jekiah pause and look at him. The older man didn’t say anything, but Rass could see him tilt his head slightly as he mulled over the information given. If he had any thoughts about it, he said nothing. Instead, Jekiah filled the kettle and went about making the tea.

They exchanged small talk until Rass was packed up and ready to go--soup and tea secured in their own thermoses.

“I’ll see you later, Rass,” Jekiah said, patting the younger man on the back. A sure grin spread across his lips as he added. “And good luck in your wooing of the captain.”

Rass’ ears went crimson as his older brother winked at him. “I am not--”

He was cut off by a pointed look at the thermoses.

“Shut up,” he pouted, looking away.

“Uh huh,” Jekiah laughed as he exited the room.

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

Tal Sarad is Mando'a for Blood Flower....yes, I'm that lame. >.<

[typicalopposite]

2023 Fanfic Wrapped

Thank you @onthewaytosomewhere for the tag! :)

Sooo this year has been a wild ride fandomly for me... to say the least.

(we're gonna go ahead and add a cut cause she's gonna get long)

It started with a few prompt fics in January

Feel The Rain On Your Skin Destiel(SPN)663 words Tumblr Prompt Game “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the rain?” overtime - Steddie(Stranger Things)1305 words Fic prompt game “we’re you ever going to tell me?”

I worked on some WIPs I wont include because they were started in 2022 through February . Then in March I started three new fics (because I am insane) that are all still on going WIPs as well, but the first two that I share were left on a good stopping point; so you're not left with that bitterness once you see they haven't been updated in a long time. The last one... we won't talk about her(I swear it's not abandoned I just have been hyperfixated elsewhere and life has been messy)

It Takes Two - Starsky & Hutch 8746 words Nothing more than a box that had fallen over. He laughed at himself and relaxed for a brief moment — since at least there was no rat — but it was short-lived as he turned the box to reveal the writing on the side.  Give to Dave It was written in big red letters in Terry’s handwriting; Starsky felt like he might be sick. Her parents had brought it after… said it was in her apartment. He didn’t even know about it, and he had not yet found the strength to open it. So it was hidden away in his closet where he could forget about it, and he had. Go figure, he thought.  Interdit - Portamis(The Three Musketeers)8241 words It happens while Aramis is hunched over Porthos, stitching — or rather trying to stitch, as Porthos repeatedly flails and hisses and snatches away from Aramis’ needle — the slash across his left eye. just a little while - Gallavich(Shameless)12,725 words Mickey will be a shit dad. He will. He knows he will. It’s fucking encoded in his DNA… or some shit. Except, how come every time he’s stuck with one the Gallagher kids, it feels like the exact opposite…

Which brings us to August, when everything changed... drastically. I was introduced to RWRB and although I started getting ideas for fics and even started writing one I still haven't finished prior to seeing the movie, just a few days after it released I went on a spiral of writing i have NEVER gone on before... and it doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

August - December every fic I wrote has been FirstPrince

August

Zahra Deserves A Raise 5091 words or Five times Zahra has to put up with Alex and Henry's shit... and definitely didn't get paid enough for it... plus one time she was happy to. A Summer Scandal 6123 words It’s next summer and they made it back to the lake house… but let’s make it angstier than last time. :) we're gonna need some pizza 1017 words Missing scene from when Alex comes out to Ellen. or What happens between Ellen ordering the pizza and her asking Alex what he identifies as. Home 2675 words Just my take on Movie Henry getting into the brownstone :)

September

Sometimes 2638 words Alex helps Henry through a difficult time regarding his father. what's not to like 1096 words It’s been four days since Oscar looked at his son and said, “Sometimes you just gotta jump… and hope you’re not standing on a cliff.” Or... Missing scenes after Henry leaves from Oscar’s POV What If 5817 words Alex called all day, everyday, for a week after Henry left the lake house. Each time Henry wished it would be the last; that Alex would take the hint, and let it go. Each time there was another call. Until there wasn’t. or... What if Alex never stormed the castle to win Henry back?! tell me more, tell me more 2981 words What are best friends for if not to go gush about the person you are secretly in love with after each (totally not but totally IS) date. or... The missing scenes of Nora and Percy finding out the story behind each time Alex and Henry get together. The Royal American Wedding Planner 9371 words It’s going to be the wedding of the century! But more importantly it’s going to be the wedding of their dreams. Zahra is going to make sure of it. ORRR 5 weeks of problems with the FirstPrince wedding and 1 perfect day!

October

Three Days 29,542 words He looks down at Henry’s body, steps closer. He’s right beside the bed and lays a hand on the top of Henry’s head. “Say you could go back three days; back to before all the missed plans, before all of the arguments, before the promotion… before the accident. Would you?” “Of course I would…” ooorrr I decided to write an angsty little Christmas fic in October based off an equally angsty movie I use to love back in the day one thousand four hundred and sixty four hours 926 words Alex has always made a habit of obsessively remembering certain days. Important days, of course. Ones that leave a special mark on his memory. Ones that he never wants to forget. eight legged freaks 895 words henry pulls a prank on alex based on a picture of a spider earring i saw on facebook cake-gate, baby gates, and a mess Henry could have avoided 1655 words Henry and Alex agree on a lot when it comes to parenting. They also disagree on a lot; that's just par the course with parenting, though… right? One thing they both sway on the fence about is baby restraints… or whatever the technical terms for them are. and so the story goes 2068 words Henry suggested Alex try his routine on the days he would have been putting her to sleep, to keep her nights as close to normal as possible. But Alex’s eyes went crossed trying to understand which concoctions (and the correct amounts) Henry uses for bath time. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still long enough to brush through her hair more than just the amount of times it took to detangle it. Most importantly though, he absolutely sucks at bedtime stories… which have always been her favorite part of Henry’s routine.  let me hear you SCREAM 2789 words Then Henry looks up from his writing desk, through the front window of the Brownstone, and sees a ghost face mask staring back at him from across the street. He certainly didn’t expect Alex’s idea of getting him back to involve… well that. The cloaked figure doesn’t move, save for a slow rise of his hand to give Henry a slight wave. It’s extremely creepy and Henry has to push back from his desk and get away from the window.

November

proud to be yours 4086 words “Made me very proud to be your boyfriend,” Henry had said. And Alex replied; “I’m always proud to be your boyfriend.” Henry made his little snide upperclass joke and Alex grinned and laughed as if he had just heard the most hilarious thing in the world. Then the moment was interrupted and quickly forgotten as they readied themselves to meet with the King. And it probably should have been the end of the topic — for Alex, perhaps it truly was. But for Henry, who tends to overthink things for the worse, he just can’t forget about it. or... Five times Alex was introduced as Henry's boyfriend, and one time he was introduced as his husband. ten seconds 'til 3544 words Five New Years showing the reasons that brought Henry to hate the holiday… and the one that changes his mind so says social media 606 words Alex shrugs and turns his phone off, sliding it into his pocket to resume watching TV. “Who knows, people just love to stir up drama.” Or... I have watched people micro analyze TZP and (especially) NG on social media so much I wrote a FirstPrince fic about it.

December (I have only posted one this month, because I was feeling the pressure of giving myself a timeline on a fic, and also joining the gift exchange... that being said I am going to add the gift fic to this list on the first.)

i saw papa kissing santa claus 3483 words “O- Oh, hello there young lady,” Henry says, swapping back to the deep American accent he’s been using as Santa, and Alex looks past him. There is a little girl storming towards the cottage; their little girl.

There you have it! My insane list of fics I've published in 2023, totalling up to 118,000+ words!

I honestly don't know anyone to tag who hasn't probably already been tagged, so I will leave it open to anyone who wants to join it! It's really fun to go back and actually see what you have accomplished in a year. Here's to 2024! :)