#They're almost always uneven

[the-halfling-prince]

wip Wednesday ? Wow.

im so excited to finish this piece.

[gremlinbehaviour]

ow

[genderqueerdykes]

poverty is so isolating. it means being alone and away from people, events, society. you can't afford trips to and from places. you can't afford to spare gas. you can't afford the entrance fee. you can't afford tickets. you can't afford making eating a social event. you can't buy drinks. you can't engage in hobbies.

all you're encouraged to do are "free" things, but they're not free. Internet isn't free. cell phone service isn't free. sitting on the computer and your phone all day is frowned upon for good reason because it destroys your health. we shouldn't have to only be able to talk to people digitally to be able to socialize. we shouldn't have to watch streams all day. we need to see other people, i DON'T care if it costs a few dollars: poor people shouldn't be relegated to what few free activities there are because most of them involve being alone.

the library is one of the most annoying suggestions because it makes you feel pinned. yes i want to support my local library. i cannot sit still and read in public. it is not socially acceptable to start taking to strangers in the library in fact you can't have conversations there at all because you need to be quiet for the other readers. libraries are places of education, accessibility to information and resources, and social services. it is not a place to socialize. maybe entertain but Only if you can, well, read. i have dissociative disorders and unmedicated ADHD, i don't make it very far into books. i feel like most poor people get really tired of the library suggestion. it's an amazing resource. but it's not for this purpose

social events are almost always off limits. sure you can go to the bar and not drink, if you don't have alcohol trauma, aren't a recovering alcoholic, aren't overstimulated by noise, aren't photosensitive, don't have anxiety with crowds and strangers, aren't a minor, have an ID, and can walk there or get a ride there. sure you can walk to the cafe and use their Wi-Fi but this isn't a social activity and in many places you can't sit there for long periods unless you buy anything.

i get SO tired of the "go to a cafe" suggestion. think about how boring that actually is. you're alone. in America, it is NOT socially acceptable to sit at a strangers table like it is in other countries, let alone just start talking to them. it is NOT a common experience to strike up a conversation with strangers in cafes in America, like we really have cafes other than fucking starbucks to begin with.

going for walks and going to parks is not accessible to people with physical disabilities, agoraphobia, some schizophrenics, people with dog trauma, and other issues. parks usually have really poorly maintained or no sidewalks or foot paths. they can be uneven and hard to traverse for people who use mobility aids. unless you live near a monument or state park, your local parks are really meant for dogs to piss and shit in, for joggers to run through, and to look impressive to investors. they're usually pathetic swaths of grass with you guessed it, nothing to do. again it's rare to strike up conversation at the park. people need conversation starters. there's Nothing going on at the park. it's a great place to go if you need to cool down when angry or stressed, but it's fucking boring.

window shopping is pointless and dehumanizing. i really can't stand it when people suggest poor people window shop so we can think about things to buy when we have money ... why the fuck would i ever do that. when i don't have money i don't think about frivolous things i don't need. what the fuck kind of activity is window shopping, that's for people who have money.

poor people get tired of doing the "free" shit. if you suggest that a poor person should do these things when you do none of them yourself, you have 0 clue how boring and dehumanizing it is to never be able to decide what you do with your time. to have limited options to live. to experience.

money is not the reason you get to experience; you get to experience because you are alive. no poor people don't deserve to sit there and do nothing all day because they didn't "earn" anything. no poor people don't deserve to live their lives because they don't make as much as you. poor people deserve to enjoy being alive. poor people get to decide to have fun with their money, too.

I'm so tired of people being so harsh on people who struggle with financial issues and spending money "right" or "smart". reckless spending and difficulty managing finances are symptoms of mental illness and neurodivergence. bipolar, personality disorders, schizophrenia, anxiety, autism, ADHD, OCD and other mental health conditions can make managing funds very hard. don't be extra cruel to someone who spends money poorly in response to a mental health crisis. this won't make their situation any easier.

i sat in apartment after apartment for a decade doing nothing. i was a total shut in because i had no money. i never did anything but browse the Internet. all day long. without end. i was dissociating constantly. my anxiety was at its highest. i was constantly psychotic. instead of going out to fix it, i would stay inside longer, making it worse and worse and worse. i never bought anything. i didn't have hobbies. all of my decorations and possessions were from my childhood, my clothes were literally falling apart, a decade old. my walls were barren. my world was grey.

don't do this to yourself. don't tell yourself that you deserve nothing because it's harder for you to make money than other people. I'm very lucky now that i have made friends who pulled me out of my shell and have helped me get outside of my house. i spent so long alone and trapped indoors thinking it's the only thing i could do with myself for years. I'm finally recovering. if you're poor you deserve to live. you're alive. and you're not alone. i love you.

[s1llydr3amscape]

LET ME OUT

Looks like someone failed the captcha test to many times!

Anyways I always wanted to doodle this specific pose from Toyless' animation why because I can :]

Extras under the cut :

This was the specific screenshot I based the pose off I love hands grabbing head!!! :

The original video ^ (I'll be real with yall I was shocked the original song was poppy playtime because my only experience with it was that all my baby cousins loved that franchise. And they would show me vids off it at family gatherings because I was the babysitter. One of em even debated me abt fnaf like chill out bro you weren't even born when it came out!!!!!)

Glitchtrap rambling time woohoo let's go!!!!

-I redrew em again because I think I'm almost 100% happy with its design!!!! Like I don't wanna change their face so much because the way his face is shaped is my fave!!! Like they have the same style of muzzle as sonic characters!!!!!! I just made it rounder cuz its their early days before this au lore

-I just wanna achieve the unnaturalness with their design. Like they don't belong here. They want to get out. LET HIM OUT. type vibe basically like that's why it has like those kind off teeth instead off the rabbit ones. They get those later in the au.

-I fucking love Glitchtrap so much you don't understand they're so peak!!!!!! I jokingly hate him because I despise what it did to Vanny.

-I was a fan since day 1 bro is just so unique like woah a non animatronic for a change?!?!? STRAIGHT UP A FURSUIT!??!?! Color me impressed!!! I love zooming on it its model and seeing everyy little detail!!! Like omg bro is crying and drooling on the suit!!!!! There's also a patch of uneven stitching pattern on the top of their head compared to their mostly symmetrical design!!!

-I was so fixated on em like my level of obsession for him was bad bad!!!! Like yeah it was still there when Vanny came around during the curse of Dreadbear DLC but you don't understand it surpassed all my Foxy art!!! The first fnaf character I fixated on!?!?? Like what and yall can ask my IRLS bro had lots n lots of art!!!!! I have so much trad art of glitchy it's embarassing!!! Atleast I improved tbh!!

-I just really really loved the fan animations were bro got to time travel to the older fnaf animations and fuck em up!!!! Causing them all to glitch out like hello PEAK!?!?!?! No im not biased to rabbit characters with whiskers shhhhh... SHHH...

-Because I know all those animations already and it's like omg omg OMG Glitchtrap kinda expanded my music taste imma be fr... Fnaf autism is so bad I omfg I only listened to fnaf songs and the only time I listened to other franchises songs is because someone animated fnaf over it... like yeah I was an animation meme kid but even then I only remember the lyrics and titles to songs if I saw fnaf on them (cringe!!!!) So yeah thank u Glitchtrap <33333

-I think Malhare is the cooler name but the Glitchtrap name is cool too because when the names end in trap like this it makes me think they're like warrior cats adjacent. So in this one they just fluctuate between either Malhare or Glitchtrap

-Also another reason he's my super fave is because my brain predicted it's gloop form!!!!

-Like no joke literally the same character I dreamt about during the early days before Princess Quest.

-Except mine was a shadow like the shadow animatronics. More wispy than gloopy. I think the reason I dreamt it was because Shadow Toy Chica and fan made shadow animatronics were getting popular!! But legit same character and colors!!!!!!!

-Just a big dark mass with purple eyes surrounding it like literally the same character my brain came up with and I'm just wow <3333 minus the fact my design had really big giant swirly white eyebrows

-However my Shadow Glitchtrap was kinda more wack to say the least. Like heheheh cuz Glitchtraps a fursuit there's no denying that I changed the dream design a bit. In my old Glitchtrap designs they'd have a zipper and so what would happen was they'd unzip and flip their insides into outsides to reveal the Shadow Glitchtrap thing which was hiding inside them.

-Like those plushies that you can unzip to reveal a different plushie design basically!!!!

-TBH I prefer Glooptrap because yeah!!!!! Amalgamation of hate let's go!!!!!! I think with how gloopy he is its just fun to draw I love the fact that the weird Glitchtrap blockers look like that it fits too much with my own preestablished AU lore.

-I feel like Glitchtrap turns into Glooptrap from like the seams of their suit. Like you see that each part the suit got stitched just turn black as black liquid pours out like ohhh that shit haunted!!!! Bursting outta the seams like oh this guy has no one inside they're all just black sludge!!!!

-In this AU specifically (The one with my millions of Vanny designs) is actually a spoof fnaf AU where everyone lives!!! Like I have 3 AUs technically one of them being the fnaf cast in my oc world where they become my ocs basically called Rabbit City. My other one which is my more serious canon adjacent fnaf AU where no silly stuff or shipping happens, and it's just more overall following my own formed understanding of the canonicity and the series of events with me trying to keep the animatronics more game accurate (I dont think ive posted any of that here due to me feeling like my style limits the nit and grit I wanna go with it). And this one I mainly post on here where everything is just silly and bends to my command and everyone lives because I love everyone <333333 Literally playing with my toys type AU where I do what I want which is why a million vanny designs are in this AU specifically. I usually tag it as this 🦭🩷🐇🐰🐇🐰🐇🐰🐯 because the original name of this au is self indulgent and I'm embarrassed but it's too iconic to change it.

-Glitchtrap in this AU is just much more goofy and silly infecting people like a zombie virus and possessing them for his own gain. Weird eldritch horror that came out of a fnaf fangame. Anything goes in this AU so if I wanna make Glitchtrap a mind controlling zombie warlock wizard so be it!!!! Sorry I love zombies soo much you will have to take this trope out of my cold dead hands!!!!! I love rot!!!

-That's why it's wrinkly because they too me are like a rotten banana (Even though his associated smell to me is lemongrass). Imagine squeezing a banana still with it's skin on. That's how I imagine bro turns into glooptrap if they didn't open the zipper in time. Also because I love the design trope of rotting and withering sue me. I love when the flesh sags across the body. Wrinkles are great bro theyre so real!!!!! Also because back then people kept drawing him as skinny as a twig??? Even though they have fat??? So I made them fatter mostly because like I love the gloop part of it hiding inside <3333

-They're more green pink and purple because imma be real my fave color combo ever <33333

-I wanna do an xray piece with them soon to show their insides but I'm still uncertain if I have the art prowess to concoct it exactly like how I envision it yet. Like I need to squash and scretch them more. They need to look more decrepit and horrible!!!!! something like the unknown from dbd!!!!

-They can't actually emote properly stuck in a permanent smile

-Glithctrap and Vanny’s dynamic is like Lord Hater and Commander Peepers in this one. There's more character adjacent to the dynamic between them concocted in my head but I wanna draw a comic abt it :]

-Like yeah one second they're besties and the next they're at each other's throats ready to strangle eachother. Vanny reluctantly trying to help him at first like how she was first called.

-Oh also in this specific AU Glitchtrap isn't connected to William in the slightest more just it's own thing!!!!

-He's like an AI that wants to be human. It believes it is human. They've mimicked people too much that they don't know what they are anymore. Or what it wants anymore. What do they want.

[versetas]

teeth and tongue;

Kissing Boothill is all teeth and tongue. There's an intensity to it that borders on wild, as if every kiss is a battle between restraint and desire. His lips press against yours with a force that's almost bruising, and it's clear he's holding back, reigning in an urge to let loose, to devour you whole.

His kisses aren't just affectionate; they're a test of control, a struggle to suppress the primal instincts that are always lurking just beneath the surface.

Granted, he's learned to be gentler with you, to control those impulses. You've felt the gradual shift in his approach—how he’s learned to ease the rough edges, to curb the ferocity that comes so naturally to him. But god, if it isn't a struggle. Every time his mouth meets yours, you can feel the effort it takes for him to hold back. There's a raw, almost desperate energy to his kisses, as though he's constantly fighting against the urge to just give.

His body is tense as it presses you further against the wall, his large, metallic fingers digging into your sides and drawing you impossibly closer. Each movement he makes is deliberate, as if he’s trying to merge into you, to erase any distance between you and him.

He'd eat you alive if you'd let him. The thought lingers in the back of your mind—Boothill is dangerous in his passion, and there’s a part of you that knows he could easily lose control. In moments like these, his desire for you is fierce, almost animalistic, and you can sense that if you gave him the slightest permission, he wouldn’t hold back.

There’s a dark allure to the idea, the thought of letting him consume you whole in a frenzy of teeth and tongue.

As his sharp canines sink into your bottom lip, pulling it back, he catches your wanton gaze and wonders if it'd really be so bad to just let go. It’s a dangerous notion, one that both excites and terrifies him. He knows that once he crosses that line, there might be no going back. But right now, with your lips trembling against his and the taste of you lingering on his tongue, he can’t help but question—would it really be so terrible?

“Boothill…”

His name is but a breathy whisper on your lips when he finally pulls away. He shudders, eyes closing tightly as he rests his forehead against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps.

"God, I—" His voice cracks, betraying the effort he's making to keep his emotions in check. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, but the sound of his own voice, raw and vulnerable, betrays his struggle. "I don’t want to hurt you. But it’s so hard."

The shadows that cling to the walls of the narrow, dimly lit alley behind the tavern are the only witnesses to this moment. The darkness is a tempting cover, a perfect place for him to take you, right here, right now. But he can't. He knows he can't. This need, it’s too fierce, too overwhelming. If he loses control, he could hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he—

"Boothill," you murmur his name again, your voice an invitation that nearly brings him to his knees. The way you say it—soft, pleading, almost breathless—makes it impossible for him to think clearly.

“Hurt me.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick with tension, laced with need, and it tears at his resolve.

His hands glide up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that contradicts the fierce need churning inside him. He pulls back slightly, just enough to gaze into your eyes, to really look at you.

Your pupils are blown wide, almost entirely eclipsing the color of your eyes, and the depth of that dark gaze seems to pull him further into the abyss. The way you’re looking at him—like he's the only thing you see, the only thing you want—sends a shiver down his spine.

The alley is cold, the chill biting at your skin, but it's a distant sensation. The heat between you both, the palpable tension, is all-consuming, nearly suffocating.

“You don’t know what you’re askin' for,” he rasps, his voice low and rough. “I could break you.”

It's a warning. You don't falter, though. Instead, you lick your lips, pink tongue flicking out to capture the lingering taste of him, a gesture so small but so maddeningly provocative that it frays the last of his restraint.

“Then break me,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them, driven by the same reckless need that’s tearing him apart. “Just—please, Boothill.”

A sharp inhale catches in Boothill’s throat. “God help me,” he mutters, his voice a broken prayer as he pulls you back into him, his lips finding yours again with a fervor that’s almost painful in its desperation. The alley dissolves into obscurity, the world outside melting away into insignificance. In that singular moment, nothing exists beyond the intense sensation of his lips on yours and the relentless, searing touch of his hands as they slip beneath the fabric of your clothes.

[leftoverpages]

Underneath the Steel

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood × Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 angst, brief character death mention, sleep paralysis, fluff at the end, reader uses she/her but no physical description, romance if you squint really hard

Notes: request by @ithilwen-aranel !

I need a fic where reader is a Targ princess and dragon rider and a known fierce warrior, like Visenya reincarnated level warrior but nobody knows that she has sleep paralysis. So she's marching with House Blackwood to Harrenhal and it's nighttime so they're in tents and her and Benji's tents happen to be next to each other. So that night she gets an attack/episode and he hears her muffled cries and sobs and he helps her get out of it and he finally sees the girl inside the warrior and he comforts her by showing that he has vulnerable sides too and stuff. (sorry if it's messy and chaotic haha but l WANT MORE FLUFF)

Wordcount 𓅪 1.4k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The cold wind swept through the camp as the soldiers of House Blackwood settled for the night. Tents dotted the landscape, bathed in the pale light of a crescent moon. Among them was a tent marked with the sigil of House Targaryen, on it, a dragon standing tall.

Inside, the Targaryen princess sharpened her blade, her mind a battlefield of its own. Known to many as a fierce warrior, she was often compared to Visenya Targaryen, a legend reborn. She had led her dragon into countless battles, her swordsmanship and ferocity unmatched.

But, as night fell and the camp quieted, a darker struggle loomed. Under her strong exterior, she had a secret as old as her lineage, a shadow that haunted her dreams-sleep paralysis. She had fought countless ennemies on the battlefield, but none of them were as terrifying as the darkness that gripped her in the night.

Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord of House Blackwood, laid restless in his tent. The march to Harrenhal stayed heavily on his mind. His thoughts drifted to the princess, their tents stood side by side. Her reputation preceded her, but Benjicot had seen glimpses of something beyond the warrior facade—a quiet sadness in her eyes.

As he drifted to sleep, muffled cries were heard in the night. Benjicot sat up, his senses sharp. The sounds were coming from the Targaryen tent. Frowning, he woke, moving silently.

Inside her tent, the princess was trapped. Her body laid motionless, her eyes open, her breath uneven. Shadows stood at the corner of her eyes, mocking her. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. The nightmare always started the same: she was in a big and empty field. Her dragon was nowhere to be seen. Panic rose up inside her as she realized she was alone.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Shadowy figures emerged, their forms indistinct, as if they were made of smoke.

"You're weak," they hissed, with their chilling voices. "You will fail them all."

She tried to take her sword, but her body refused to move. Her limbs were turned to stone. She was desperate as the figures approached her, their cold fingers brushing against her skin, leaving trails of ice behind.

Her breath became faster. She could feel her heart pounding. The shadows wrapped around her, tightening their grip, almost suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she was unable to move, a silent plea for help left her lips.

As the nightmare continued, the shadows began to transform into faces she knew - friends, comrades, and family members, with twisted expressions.

"Why didn't you save us?" they cried, their voices full with anger. "You are supposed to be our protector!"

The guilt crashed over her as she could feel herself slipping, the line between reality and nightmare blurring. The faces closer, their features more distinct, their voices louder.

"Help," she managed to whisper, the word barely audible.

Benjicot pushed aside the tent flap. He saw her, tears streaming down her face.

Instinctively, he knelt beside her, his voice soft yet urgent.

"Princess, can you hear me?"

She did not respond, her eyes locked in a terror. Benjicot hesitated, then gently touched her shoulder. "Princess? You need to wake up."

The warmth of his touch broke through her. Slowly, she regained control, her body shaking as the paralysis faded. Her sobs flowing freely now.

She looked at Benjicot, her fierce demeanor shattered. "You saw..." He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Aye, I saw. And I see you, the real you. It's all right."

She wiped her tears, frustrated. "I hate this. I'm supposed to be strong."

Benjicot sat beside her. "Strength isn't just about physical strength or riding a dragon. It's about facing your fears." She looked at him.

"Do you ever feel like you're drowning in expectations?"

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Every day. The burden of leadership, the pressure to protect my people... it's overwhelming."

He reached out, encircling her in a gentle embrace. He held her close, offering his presence. "But in moments like these, you have to remember that we are not alone. We have allies who will stand by us, who will fight beside us."

She let herself breathe deeply, the tension slowly fading away. A reminder that vulnerability did not equate to weakness.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding between them. In that moment, they were no longer just a Targaryen and a Blackwood. They were two souls, each bearing their own scars. She took a deep breath as she sat there.

"I've fought battles, slain men twice my size, and ridden my dragon through storms of arrows. But this... this is different."

Benjicot nodded, his gaze steady. "It's the battles we fight within ourselves that are often the hardest. But you don't have to fight them alone."

She hesitated, vulnerability warring with her warrior's pride. "It's... it's been like this since I was a child. The shadows, the paralysis. I've learned to mask it, to be strong. But some nights..."

"Some nights, it's too much," Benjicot finished for her, his voice gentle. She nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"Yes. I fear that one day it might break me."

He squeezed her gently, his embrace a shield against her fears. He reached out, his hand covering hers.

"It won't. Because you're stronger than you know. And because you have allies who will stand by you, even in the darkest of nights."

She squeezed his hand, finding solace in his words. "Thank you, Benjicot."

"Always," he replied, his smile reassuring. "And if you ever need someone to sit with you through the night, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. She looked up at him, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Will you... stay with me?" Benjicot nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

He settled beside her, his presence a calming presence. She lied closer to him, finding comfort in the rhythm of his breathing. In the safety of his arms, she finally allowed herself to drift into slumber, the weight of her fears lifted for the night.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the camp, the princess took a deep breath, the remnants of her nightmare dissipating with the morning mist. Benjicot remained by her side, his presence a steady anchor.

As the camp stirred awake with the dawn, they lay intertwined. They were warriors, yes, but in each other's embrace, they found a refuge from the shadows that haunted them both.

As they walked under the dawn's embrace, they stood united, ready to conquer both the battles ahead and the shadows within.

[zeroeightzeroone]

stubborn - han jisung

love collection

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

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

warnings: none

wc ~3k | moodboard

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

"you're not hearing me at all."

you push yourself off the edge of jisung's bed, onto your feet and make your way around the room gathering the things you came with–which isn't much since he keeps some of your things in his dorm. fingers running through your locks; the state of your hair expressing the brewing frustration within you. what was supposed to be a lovely night sleeping over at jisung's turned into the two of you pushing each other's buttons.

you're quick to swing the door open and make your way into the hall but jisung's quick to follow you out. 

"baby, come on!" he calls, hot on your tail, "y/n!"

"leave me alone ji!"

jisung sneers, "you wanted me to communicate more! here i am! communicating but you're walking away!"

you stop, spinning around to face the boy so suddenly that your bodies almost collide. there, in the hallway of jisung's dorm, you're standing face to face, chests rapidly heaving from your uneven breathing, the rage radiating off your bodies. feeding off each other's emotions.

"yes. i wanted you to communicate more but," your tone stern as your eyes narrow up at him, "that also meant hearing me when i'm communicating something to you! listening to me–"

"please. i've been listening to you!"

"no you haven't! it's like i'm speaking into a void when i tell you that i miss you, ji! we've been together for six months, but i've barely seen you in the past few months."

"you know how my job is," jisung crosses his arms over his chest.

"i'm not asking for you to be attached at the hip. all I'm asking is to see you more than i do right now."

"my schedule doesn't work that way. i can't always find the time for you."

"you can't? or you don't want to?" you counter with your arms crossed over your chest.

jisung scoffs at your implication, "what are you talking about?"

"you can't make time for me or you don't want to make time for me?" you look into jisung's eyes, "when we first started dating you wou—"

"–my schedules have changed. they're not the same as when we first started dating," jisung reminds you, "it's not that easy."

"you said that before too!" you remind him, with a frown adorning your lips, "you said it wouldn't be easy, i knew that, but–"

"but?"

"but..." your eyelids flutter, harshly gulping down the lump in your throat as you hold back the tears threatening to brew, "do you not want to try? do you not want to see me?"

"you know it's not like that," jisung sighs, voice laced with exasperation.

"then what? what is it like then?" the tears fall anyway.

"you knew what dating me would be like."

you scoff as you roll your eyes, "you can't keep using that defense."

"am i wron–"

you're quick to cut jisung off, "–i knew that my boyfriend being an idol wouldn't be easy, that we wouldn't get the opportunity to see each other as much as we would like–"

"if you knew then," he shrugs, "what's this all about?" 

jisung's words come out colder than intended.

"this is about you not even trying to fit me in! you stopped saying 'i'll try', now its always 'i can't'!"

"excuse me? i haven't been trying? how can you say that i haven't been trying?"

"where's the effort then jisung? show me!" angry tears stream down your face, "all our texts show that i'm the one asking when you're free! that i'm checking up on you! i'm the one initiating everything."

"i'm here now, aren't i?" jisung waves his hands up and down, "is that not enough for you?"

"after today i'll probably see you in another couple of weeks, or even more than a month when i'm the one asking you to spend time with me! me! your girlfriend!"

"god, i can't do this right now," he runs a hand through his unruly hair, "i've got a ton of work left to do and this conversation is going nowhere."

"fine," you huff.

a few moments pass with neither of you making any moves, staring straight ahead. though you're both in each other's line of sight, your eyes don't meet. avoiding the other's fiery gaze.

your cheeks are flushed, your falling tears soaking the heated skin but you make no effort to swipe them away. your bottom lip is trembling—your whole body feels like it's trembling due to the overwhelming amount of emotion that rush through your veins that very moment. jisung pretty much mirrors you–minus the tears–the way his brows are knit together, slow and heavy breaths leaving his flared nostrils.

with a sigh of defeat, you turn on your heel, then make a beeline for the door. jisung watches you make your way to the front door, not once looking back at him as you swing the door open and shut it behind you. 

and not once does he stop you from leaving. 

the door shuts and jisung turns around, walking to his room where he flings the door shut behind him and pulls his headphones on. drowning out his surroundings as he tries to steady his breathing.

an hour or two passes and chan walks through the front door, expecting to see your shoes next to jisung's at the door or some other trace of you inside the dorm, but nothing catches his eye. curious, the curly haired boy peeks into jisung's room to see if maybe you'd both gone out but jisung sits there in his computer chair.

the brunette's still got headphones on, no knowledge that his hyung stands in his doorway. right as chan is about to shut the door, his eyes land on a short stack of clothes on top of jisung's dresser: your favourite shirt of jisung's and a pair of jisung's sweatpants. the sight has chan nodding his head as he slowly steps back and closes the door.

even without asking, it's clear something went on between the two of you. the clothes sitting on top of the younger boy's dresser are the same clothes you're given to wear whenever you stay over. they're jisung's clothes but he sets them aside just for you because he knows how much you love them. instead, the clothes are neatly folded and untouched. 

on the way to his own room, chan sends changbin and hyunjin a text, letting them know about the current atmosphere of the dorm. 

walking in through the front door of your apartment and locking eyes with your roommate, the surprise on her face is apparent. she wasn't expecting you to come home tonight as you said you'd be sleeping at jisung's before leaving. regardless of her surprise, the moment she registers the look on your face, she's rushing over to pull you into a bear hug. 

oh, there go the waterworks again.

your trek home from jisung's dorm was an emotional rollercoaster, to say the least. 

you would cry, be fine, see the smallest thing and cry once again. you had literally seen a dog across the street and the tears started falling once again.

standing near the front door, you're holding her tight as you cry into her shoulder. she doesn't ask what the cause of your tears are, instead she rubs comforting circles on your back whilst swaying your bodies back and forth. allowing you to let it all out, no questions asked. the look on your face when you walked through the door said enough for her. moments pass until eventually, you feel that you've cried enough.

"thank you," you say with a sniffle, pulling away from her.

she smiles, "i'm here if you want to talk, even if you don't want to talk about it, i'm still here."

...

its been three days since you and jisung have seen each other. 

if you were to ask any of your mutual friends to point out the traits you share with your boyfriend, other than the both of you being quite introverted. the top answer would be: stubborn.

were you both aware of how immature you were being, holding out hope that the other one would crack first? yes. of course.

it's just a matter of who is less stubborn and immature between the two of you.

jisung's holed himself up in the company building the past couple of days. most of his time is spent in chan's room or the dance studio (when he feels like moving) as he tries not to think about you.

keyword: tries.

you're all he can think about.

the brunette would be checking his phone to see if maybe you've sent something. jisung had gotten used to you sending him texts throughout the day but the past three days have been radio silent. he finds himself feeling incomplete without your random texts; feeling incomplete without you.

on the other hand, you've caught yourself almost texting or calling jisung first, holding yourself back for the sake of proving a point. albeit, in an immature manner, but a point nonetheless. just like your boyfriend, you're drowning yourself in work but it does nothing to get the boy with the cutest round cheeks out of your head. 

three days of radio silence seemed like more than enough, the longing for each other growing as the days pass. jisung misses your random messages about anything and everything, and you miss his random selfies throughout the day. 

you miss each other.

eventually, instead of the both of you being too hard-headed to admit defeat and initiate a conversation; the delay comes with the fact that neither of you know where or how to start. 

you and jisung have argued before, of course. it would be unnatural for no conflicts to have come up in six months of your relationship. however, it has never gone this far. 

with a deep breath, jisung raises his fist to knock at the door.

"hyung?"

from inside the room, chan hums. turning around in his chair as he calls for jisung to come inside. the door opens slowly, revealing jisung clad in sweats and a hoodie, sheepishly walking into chan's bedroom and taking a seat on the mattress. 

"what's up?" 

chan knows what's up. it's been quite obvious that something has been up with you and jisung for the past couple of days.

"i need some adv—... help. i need some help," jisung glances up at chan and back down, receiving another hummed reply from the older boy, "i fucked up."

jisung takes a deep breath, fingers toying at his sleeves.

"something happened between you and y/n, yeah?" 

jisung nods as chan leans back in his computer chair. with that, jisung begins rambling about the argument you two had while chan listens intently, mentally noting down points he believes to be significant. as jisung retells the exchange, he's reminded of the way you looked at him, the things you said to him and how he responded back to you. 

"i.. uh.. i don't know what to do," jisung's hands brush through his hair, elbows on his knees as he leans his weight forward, "i don't know where to start."

meanwhile, a floor down and a couple hours later, seungmin sits in the living room of his dorm on the phone with you. on your end, his voice comes through your phone speakers, filling your room.

"first of all, you two need to speak to each other."

"ok—"

"—i'm not done," seungmin hushes you, "how jisung managed to find someone as stubborn as he is, is beyond me but you're both stubborn as hell."

"... gee, thanks."

"you're welcome. you know it's true," even though he can't see you, you can't help but shrug with a small nod, agreeing with seungmin's statement. he continues, "but think about it like this. one reason you fought was because he wasn't prioritizing your relationship, right?"

"yeah?"

"what about right now?"

"huh?" 

"is the priority right now to be as hard-headed as possible to prove a point or…" seungmin drags out the last word, "is it your relationship with jisung?"

"my relationship."

...

"well, someone's up early," your roommate gasps when you walk into the kitchen.

you're fully dressed for the day, ready to go outside. usually this early in the morning you're still asleep, choosing to wake up right on time for work instead of earlier than needed.

"i thought you had a day off?" she muses, bringing the mug up to her lips and taking a sip of her coffee.

even before you entered the kitchen area, you could smell the fragrant aroma of coffee beans, filling the air the moment you walked out of your bedroom.

"i do," you nod, going to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, not really in the mood for coffee.

"where ya' going?"

"i'm gonna go to the dorms," you turn around and lean against the counter, "talk to ji."

"woke up early to avoid the morning rush?" the soft smile on your face paired with the sigh says enough, "how are you feeling?"

you shrug, "a bit nervous... but i'm always nervous going into serious conversations."

she chuckles, "oh yeah. i remember the conversation we had when you wanted to be a potential roommate."

the memory has your cheeks flushing, throwing your head back in embarrassment. to this day, you don't know how she chose you instead of the other, non-embarrassing, applicants. right before your roommate leaves for work, you're exchanging a quick hug and then she's out the door. 

the longer you sit alone in the kitchen, stewing in your own thoughts, deliberating over the plan you've repeated in your head a million times; the more your anxiety heightens. prompting you to close your eyes before it can spill over the brim. you take a deep breath, trying to focus on your heartbeat.

the sudden knock at the door has your heart jump, the noise startling you. 

you glance out the kitchen doorway, spotting your roommate's house keys hanging on the rack next to the front door. shaking your head, you walk towards the front, unhooking her keys whilst you turn the knob with your other hand. 

she's always been quite forgetful.

with an amused smile on your face, you pry the door open.

"no wonder i didn't hear your keys when you left—"

you gulp, heart flipping in your chest.

its not your roommate. 

the words are caught in your throat at the sight of the man standing in front of you.

han jisung's here, inside your apartment complex and right outside your front door. the hood of his brown jacket is pulled over his beanie-clad head, and the bottom half of his face is covered by a mask but the nervousness is obvious as he awkwardly shifts his weight on his feet, eyes flickering around.

"can i come in?" he asks with a soft voice. 

you nod, stepping aside, giving jisung the space to walk through the front door then shutting it behind him. he discards his shoes at the door, before you're walking in front of him, leading you both into the living area. the two of you take a seat on the couch, a couple inches of space between your bodies. awkward silence lingering in the air, neither of you knowing who should speak first.

jisung clears his throat and decides to take the leap.

his hands reach up to remove the mask and hood, "where.. uh.. were you going somewhere?"

referring to the denim jeans and hoodie you've got on. his hoodie.

"i was going… to see you."

jisung angles his body in your direction, blinking a couple of times as your gaze flickers towards him.

"... you were going to see me?" you nod, "but.. why?"

now you're turning to him, brows knit in confusion. what does he mean why?

"so we could talk about… you know..."

jisung is mentally smacking himself, "no-no, i know that but you shouldn't be the one going over there.. it should be me coming to you. to talk to you, to apologize to you."

"but i have things to apologize for too…" your hands play with the ends of the hoodie you're wearing, "i... i'm sorry that i made it seem like you don't put anything into our relationship. i hurt you by saying you aren't trying. i know you do, i know its hard with your schedule and all... i—"

jisung shakes his head, scooting closer, taking your hands in his own. the mere feeling of his hands on yours has your heart skipping a beat, your skin tingling under his touch. 

"honestly, i was hurt hearing you say i haven't been trying, putting in any effort," the pads of his thumbs gently caress your skin, "it's embarrassing to admit... but it did hurt my ego."

jisung's chocolate brown iris' swim with guilt and sadness. 

both emotions stem from his inadequacy as a boyfriend recently; hurting the person he cares the most about. its true that you don't realize what you've lost until it's gone, and he had a taste of it for the past three days. he doesn't want to be without you, never again. 

"i didn't see the mistakes i'd made, the ways i hurt you. instead, i hurt you more in that conversation, didn't i?" 

the way your lips press into a straight line is enough of an answer for him.

"i'm sorry," jisung squeezes your hands gently, "i'm sorry for not putting more effort into our relationship."

"you are—"

"no, i'm not," he shakes his head, "if i was then it it wouldn't have been brought up, and we wouldn't have had that fight."

"... mhmm."

"i kept saying you knew what you were getting into dating me," a bitter laugh slips from his lips at the memory, "but i also knew what getting into a relationship. god, i fucked up."

your stomach turns and your brain starts to scatter. overthinking about what jisung could say next, hypothesizing the worst-case scenarios.

"i knew that it wasn't going to be easy... that dating me is going to be a lot harder than it would be if you dated... someone else– someone that isn't a celebrity," his fingers fiddle with your own, "you knew all of that and still said yes to me, you still chose me?"

"of course, because i want you. no one else."

jisung's cheeks get rounder as his toothy smile widens at your words. he blinks quickly, snapping himself out of his quick daze and continues.

"i haven't been the best boyfriend lately, i know that..." his brown eyes lock with your own, "i'm sorry for how i hurt you that day... even leading up to that... i know i wasn't putting in that effort and there's no excuse for that, honestly. i haven't been fair to you."

"its okay."

"its not, don't say that, baby," jisung sighs, "i know i fucked up but i'll make it up to you. i promise! i'll do everything i can to make it up to you, i'll work harder on us... i'll find a... what is it? b-balance! balance! i'll work on communicating more... j-just be patient with me? i know you already are but—"

"—you're rambling," you cut him off, knowing if you didn't he'd just continue to talk in circles.

it's adorable, it's endearing.

but you take this opportunity to apologize in return, "i'm sorry too. i'm know i hurt you too that day. i could've found a better way to bring it up to you, talk to you about it but i didn't and i'm so sorry. i need to work on that, i need to work on a lot of things but… we'll work on us, together. it'll be hard but-"

"as long as we're together."

you nod, repeating his words, "as long as we're together."

jisung's hands move up to cup your cheeks, caressing the skin gently as your own hands are circled around his wrists. leaning in, he places a kiss onto your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away. his chocolate brown eyes graze over your face with a delighted look, taking the time to memorize your features all over again, etching them into his brain as if it was the first time all over again.

starting with your eyes. your stunning eyes that bore into his own, jisung finds himself entranced by them and the way they sparkle when you're talking about your passions, the things you love. your eyes that smile whenever you laugh at his stupid jokes.

your nose, which you've repeatedly expressed your dissatisfaction with, but jisung finds absolutely adorable. the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when you're playfully glaring at him.

your lips. your plush, baby pink lips that jisung would kiss all day if he could, especially when you're in a pouty mood. the way your bottom lip juts out makes his heart flip. sometimes he finds himself staring at your lips, allured by the way they move as you speak.

you. you're absolutely breathtaking, beautiful. the most beautiful being he's ever laid his eyes on. the most beautiful being, inside and out that he will ever lay eyes on. he's convinced that nothing else, that no one else will captivate him, entrance him, amaze him the way that you do. the way only you do. its you, only you.

"i love you."

the three words, eight letters leave jisung's lips for the first time, directed to you, dedicated to you and you feel like you're levitating. the words, paired with the melodic vocal tone of the man sitting across from you has you breathless, the sound is intoxicating. you're addicted, so high and elated that for a moment, you wonder if you heard right.

"you..?" you're speechless.

jisung's face beams with happiness, his eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes at the sight of your own eyes that currently resemble a lost puppy; large, round and beaming up at him.

"it was like a part of me was missing over the past three days. the past three days i didn't have you, three days without you... three days where i got the taste of what life would be like if i lost you. you, y/n, are my heart," he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, "i can't— i don't want to imagine a life without you, it would only be incomplete. i love you…"

jisung pauses, biting down on his bottom lip, trying to bite back his smile. 

"fuck… i'm so in love with you."

"han jisung," you press a kiss to his lips with a hum before pulling away ever so slightly. lips brushing against his as you speak, "i'm so in love with you. it's crazy."

[azrakaban]

Heyyy how are youu?

I saw your resquests are open and i wanted to ask:

Enemies to lover with the boys? Mattheo pretty please and reader being a hufflepuff?

Like the whole you meet and both hate each other from the start for years because reader is always in her own world reading caring for magical creatures but she isnt afraid to talk back to them when they're arguing (like calling them players or returning their insults) until one of them as a 'fuck it' moment and kisses the reader and confess their love?

Sorry that was long thank you for taking time to read and thank you if you do write it 🤭💋

I'm great my lovely! Having a good day? Did you drink and eat 2day? :)

actually fr giggled and blushed when making this tbh, have so many Hufflepuff friends so basing this off of them <3 Also totally happy to write for Mattheo hes so bbg !

Careful - Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo Riddle didn't like you. That was clear to anyone who saw you two interact, and honestly, there never seemed to be any kind of reason behind it.

The assumption was just basic house prejudice, but Mattheo was fine with other Hufflepuffs, so why were you so 'special'? You knew he had it in him to be nice, heck, you'd harboured a crush on him since third year, so why now had he decided to be an ass?

Maybe it was that you had a habit of tripping over certain uneven flagstones when reading, or accidentally smashing bottles in potions because you'd spotted a niffler. But you couldn't help being clumsy, right?

Everytime something like that happened, Mattheo would give a sigh and eye roll, which made you upset, naturally. It's not like you wanted to fall over!

As a result you would confront him and he would say the obvious. 'you're so uncoordinated it's almost painful to watch.' Well unfortunately for you, it actually was painful.

So you could imagine the reaction when Snape paired you for potions.

"Careful."

"Shut up, I am being."

A quiet sigh.

"CAREFUL!" He threw out a hand to steady a jar of frogspawn you had nearly knocked over. You glared at him.

"It wasn't my fault, it was in an awkward place..." You said quietly.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, with that same sigh. "I'm sure it was."

You rolled your eyes, mocking him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Mocking me? Real mature n/n." You mocked him again, and he copied you.

"Mr Riddle, Ms L/N, something you'd like to share?" Snape said acidly. You quickly stopped, shaking your heads.

"No sir."

Once he had turned away, Mattheo muttered to you. "Your fault."

You gasped, offended. "It was yours, whore!" You replied indignantly.

Mattheo scoffed, trying to continue work on the potion. You pushed him to the side, and he looked at you in shock for a second, before pushing you out the way.

You did the same, and it turned into a war, before you both pushed at the same time and ended up on the floor.

"L/N, Riddle, Detention." Snape said greasily. "And leave the class."

You both packed your things, flushing, and left.

"Your fault." He murmured, smirking.

"Honestly fuck you." You replied.

"Careful."

"Shut up."

"CAREFUL!"

You turned, glaring. "How about, until told otherwise, I'll be careful?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Good idea."

You two were stuck in detention together, polishing trophies. Mattheo sniggered.

"You should get one for falling over, your face seems to have magnetic attraction to the floor." You bit back an exasperated scream.

"Look, I don't get why you hate me Mattheo, but just stop!"

"y/n-"

"No, no, just shut up! Can you just stop?"

"Y/N-"

"I don't like it when I fall over, it hurts, but you seem to be a sadist on some level-"

"Okay fuck it, I'm just going to shut you up."

Mattheo kissed you then, cupping your face in his hands, pulling back after a few seconds.

"I don't like it when you fall over either, you know, y/n." He said, rolling his eyes. "I can tell it hurts, so it irritates me that you're not more careful! You get hurt, Y/N, I see the bruises, and that hurts me too. Just... look out for yourself? For me?" He pleaded with you.

You froze, trying to process.

"Okay so... you don't hate me?" You said, confused.

"No actually, I kiss all the people I hate to shut them up. Oh look, here comes Potter, I'd better give him a snog. NO, Y/N, I DON'T HATE YOU." He laughed.

You giggled quietly, then smirked. "You like me." You said in a sing song voice.

Mattheo flushed slightly. "Do not." He grumbled.

"Youuuuu like meeee." You sang, giggling.

He kissed you again, effectively shutting you up as you kissed him back.

"You like me too though, y/n, let's not forget that." He smirked.

"You know you can't just kiss me every time you need me to be quiet." He laughed at that.

"Don't worry, I plan on kissing you a lot more than that. Though you do have quite a tendency to yap." He reminded you.

You poked your tongue out, moving back to the trophies to continue your detention, and nearly tripping over another wobbly flagstone.

"CAREFUL!"

Love and thanks for the request, hope this was what you were looking for, remember to eat and drink water <3

[ailithnight]

Aheem... prompt from @regonold

16 Hours

Danny remembers the first time something shorted out his powers. Vlad with his stupid Plasmius Maximus thing. Well, 'remembers'. Mostly he remembers the aftermath.

Apparently Vlad hadn't known at the time exactly how Danny ended up half ghost. He thought it had been a slower progression like his own development. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny's original death had been much quicker.

Danny remembers a short, light shock. Really, the spector deflector was worse. But this shock... suddenly his muscles were seizing, his heart stuttering, his Lichtenbergs burning. And then, nothing. A blank space in Danny's head that apparently spanned 3 hours.

Next thing he knows, they're in some kind of vehicle. There are sirens outside (a police escort, Danny would later learn). His mom is driving like her life depends on it. And Vlad is giving him chest compressions, looking grieved and panic striken. He's crying. They both are.

"Please tell me you didn't have to kiss me." His voice comes out pained and raspy. Mom almost crashes the vehicle.

"No, Little Badger. Thankfully, you kept breathing. Just your heart that was struggling." Vlad chuckled, guilty yet relieved.

It was another hour before they made it to the nearest hospital from the stupid hunting cabin. 6 more for all the stupid medical tests. "An accident," Vlad told them. "Small shock, but with an already weak heart..."

Any other time, Danny might have argued. Tried to make Vlad admit more guilt. But the whole ordeal had exhausted him to much to care then.

The second time was marginally better. At least with the Fenton Crammer, it was a steady loss. And Danny managed to fix it before his healing factor fully failed. It still hadn't been pleasant, fighting Skulker and dealing with Dash while phantom echoes of his death arced across his body. But he'd managed.

This. This is so much worse. Danny thought it would be like the Crammer again. A steady decline. But it isn't.

And it isn't like the Maximus either, a one then done, pain then nothing, dying then dead, moment.

No. This is more like the blood blossoms. This is torture. This is hell.

The suppression cuffs let just enough of his power bleed through, just enough healing factor, to keep him alive. Alive and in agony for... hours? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Danny couldn't really tell. His thoughts had long since turned to nothing but static and pain. All he knew was that time was passing around him while he was here, suffering on the absolute brink of death yet unable to embrace it.

Oh god he wanted to die. Please just let him die already! It's too much. A death that should only last a few seconds drug out into an eternity. His muscles ached with the strain of being locked up. His insides were broiling from the electric heat. His heart stuttered and stopped and started and stuttered. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

He might have been screaming. He might have been Wailing. Or he might he been choking on weak uneven breaths. Danny didn't know. Didn't care to know. Didn't care if he ever found out the details of his time in chains. He just wanted, no needed, it to end. But it just dragged on and on and on. And Danny was lost in it.

Too far gone to even realize when it ended.

.

Batman hadn't been there when the new meta appeared, quite literally materializing from nowhere in the conference room mid-meeting. He had been dealing with a mass Arkham breakout at the time. So he wasn't there. An unfortunate fact which will haunt him for the rest of his life and possibly beyond.

He should have been there. If he had only been there...

He didn't blame his team mates. They didn't know. Who would have guessed that simple power suppression cuffs could ever be an instrument of torture. He'd never considered it possible.

He didn't blame his team mates. How could he blame them? Batman wasn't even the one to connect the dots. Red Robin figured it out. He always was good at stringing together thoughts know one else would think to connect.

Red Robin asked the right questions. He figured out in 5 minutes what the rest of the league and the best doctors -not technically- on earth had been agonizing over for 16 hours.

16 hours too long.

He should have been here. Should have come sooner.

"Don't know, B!" Flash had met him at the Zetas, already rambling at top speed before he could reorient himself after teleportation. Everyone else had gone home, unable to help and needing to tend to their own cities and responsibilities.

"He just- He appeared out of nowhere while we were in meeting. Didn't trip any alarms or nothing. Just popped up. We figured it had to be teleportation, but he'd have to know where the Watchtower was to do that.

So we figured, you know, random kid teleporting into the Watchtower during a Justice League meeting. Not good. Big threat. Bats would tell us to detain. So we did.

But before we could get him to a holding cell, there was this flash of light and he changed or something. He had white hair and green eyes and some sort of jumpsuit on when he appeared.

But after the light he had black hair and a t-shirt and jeans and I actually didn't see his eyes cause he just collapsed on the spot.

Started convulsing or seizing or something. And screaming. God, B, the screaming... So we took him to medbay and...

He's dying B. He has to be. He's got a fever that keeps spiking and dropping, his muscles keep spasming, and his heart keeps giving out...

He looks 14. He looks like..."

Flash had trailed off there, as they reached medbay. Bruce understood his reluctance to complete that sentence as soon as he saw the boy.

He looks like a Robin.

Like all 4 of his sons combined.

Like someone mixed Dick's and Jason's faces and put it on Tim's body at Damian's age.

It can't even be a trick. The suppression cuffs are nullifying his abilities. This is what he truly looks like.

His sons.

In pain.

In agony for 16 hours because Batman prioritized Gotham over an emergency on the Watchtower.

"When exactly did you say he collapsed."

"When we were moving him to a holding cell after we caught him. He was a trick to catch too. He-"

Red Robin cut him off. "Yeah, sure. But when exactly did this start. What happened immediately before?"

Flash was less then pleased about being interrupted, but acquiesced after a look from Batman. Tim had an idea. Tim was on to something. "Like I said, just after we caught him and got the cuffs on so he'd stop slipping away again."

Bruce couldn't keep the growl out of his voice one he realized what Tim was suggesting. Of course he knows it wasn't their fault. He's told all of them as much since. But in the moment...

"Take them off!"

"What?"

"It's the cuffs! Take the damn cuffs off! They're killing him!"

Flash wasted no more time, bolting out of the room to fetch the disabler. Tim didn't bother waiting for the fastest man alive. He had the cuffs disabled before Flash would have been able to swipe his access card into the detainment center storage room. Bruce practically threw the cuffs out of the room in his haste to get them away.

The change had been... not nearly as quick as Bruce would have liked. The heartrate settled out almost instantly, although into something a bit too slow for comfort. But it was steady and Bruce knew nothing about this kid's normal physiology so he counted it a win.

The screaming, of course, had long since choked off. According to Flash's report, his vocal cords failed after about an hour. But his facial expressions still indicated consciousness, though not awareness.

The muscles stopped spasming and unlocked slowly over the course of several minutes. Flash was back by then, looking a bit put out to have lost a race against Red Robin. Batman could not give a single flying fuck about Flash's ego right then.

Shortly after his muscles unlocking was when he finally passed out. Once more, Batman thought about 16 hours. 16 hours and he hadn't even been able to slip into unconsciousness for relief. He should have been here.

The fever was the slowest to break. In that it still hadn't broken almost 2 hours later. Batman had sent Tim and Flash home after Red Robin finished squeezing all the details he could out of Barry. Tim had given him a look before leaving, some mixture of worry and mischief. "Should I tell Agent A to prepare a room?" Bruce just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Hopefully to bed. Knowing his son, probably not. Tim was most likely still up doing research. Bruce wanted to call Alfred to wrangle Tim to sleep.

But calling Alfred would mean leaving the room so the still potentially a threat meta couldn't hear if he woke up. And Bruce couldn't leave him. Not until the fever broke. Not until he woke up. Not until he knew the boy that looked like his sons would be okay.

Not until he could apologize for being late.

16 hours.

16 hours too late.

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part two here

content: this fic is 4-5 chapters long. i'm still trying to figure out if i should condense it to 4 or keep it at five. mostly gay pinning, fluff, angst and small slivers of smut (not very good at smut writing but i'm trying)

word count: 5k

thanks for reading!

Chapter One

It all started when your best friend told you she was moving out…

You both shared a flat, and for the last near decade or so, everything had relatively been good.

Until it wasn't.

“I know it's kind of bittersweet but,” Mel shrugs, looking down at the ice cream cone in her hand. Remnants of the vanilla treat gather above her top lip. You almost say something but she licks it away with one clean swipe of her tongue. “Alicia has been talking about this for almost a year. And I think it's time we take the next step.”

Alicia is Mel’s long-term girlfriend. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. It's a miracle that they haven't already moved in together considering how long they’ve been in each other’s lives. You should be happy for them. You really should. But a part of you keeps thinking about the upcoming renewal of the lease and the empty space that’ll fill up Mel’s side of the apartment once she leaves.

The two of you have been living together for a huge chunk of your adulthood. Honestly, the thought of returning home to Mel has been your norm for almost as long as you’ve been filing tax returns.

And now—she’s moving.

Leaving.

Just like that.

“Oh,” She croons. Her ice cream cone nearly falls as she scooches closer to you. “Don't cry.”

Your tears drip down your cheeks before trailing the slope of your jaw.

You aren’t surprised. This reaction is warranted. You aren't good at goodbyes.

Actually, no—this isn't quite a goodbye.

But it sure as hell feels just as painful.

There's not enough breathing exercises that’ll prepare you for the life transition that's doomed to happen. A chapter of your adulthood is closing right before your eyes. Mel will move out, marry Alicia, and have annoyingly cute babies. You’ll be the designated bestfriend–turned–aunt that will always feel stuck; left behind. 

It will be horrible.

“Nothing will change,” Mel comforts. She tries to multitask the art of devouring her ice cream while slinging her free arm around you. Her bubbling optimism is nearly comedic compared to your wallowing spirits.

“Everything will change!” Your voice cracks, body jerking as your lungs cause you to inhale sharp uneven gasps. “You've replaced me with Alicia as your roommate. Is she asking for the best friend title too?”

“Oh god—babe,” Another lick of her ice cream. She's trying to contain her laughter. The nerve of her! “I’ll always be your best friend. You know that.” She squeezes your shoulder. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”

Your eyes burn more and another melodramatic wail leaves you.

The image of you–old and decrepit–in a nursing home comes to fruition. You're in the bed, smelly and miserable, while Alicia and Mel stand before you. They're old too, but far more beautiful. Far more accomplished. Less lonely. Still married. Still happy. 

Oh, and their kids are probably there in the room too; asking Mel why “their Aunt hasn't been properly groomed?”

Mel is absolutely wrong.

Everything will certainly not be okay. 

After a few days of sulking, you have a change of heart when Mel says, “I think I’ve found you a new roommate.”

Suddenly, the imminent doom of Mel moving out doesn’t seem so harrowing. Of course it still saddens you–she’s your best friend after all–but you’re no longer burdened with the stress of trying to find her replacement. 

You and Mel butt heads about a ton of senseless things, but she never disappoints you on the most important matters. 

So if she thinks that someone is suitable enough to be your roommate, then you have hope that she’s right. 

“Who?” Your head snaps up as you look at her. She stands on the other side of the kitchen island, elbows leaning against the wooden countertop and chin resting in her palms. You were mopping the floor–a truly rare occurrence for you–when Mel came out of her room to announce the good news. 

“You know how Alicia goes out with her teammates every now and then?” 

Your memory travels to the brief conversations of Mel mentioning this in the past. Alicia used to be a college athlete during her undergrad. Apparently, she still has a budding relationship with a few of her old teammates, and likes to go to dinners with them to catch up every few months. 

“Well,” Mel continues. “Her friend, Sevika, hasn’t been able to come to the dinners these last few years because she lived up north for a while. But she’s back in town. And I guess she doesn’t like the place she’s at. Apparently, it’s too close to the city. Too hectic. She’s been looking at places in our neighborhood. And when Alicia mentioned it to me, I just figured...”

You nod slowly in understanding, “Oh.”

“I mean, it’s kind of working out perfectly…rather coincidental but I just thought it would make you feel better if your next roommate wasn’t a complete stranger.”

“Do you know her well?”

“I’ve hung out with Sevika countless times before she moved away.” The brown irises of Mel’s eyes become distant; as if she’s drifting off to another time. “God, that feels like so long ago somehow... But I think you’d like her.” Her lips pull into a small smile. “She seems a bit remote at first but it’s all fun and games. I promise.”

“Okay,” You shake your head, trying to wrap your brain around it all. “And you’re sure that she’s–I mean, not that I don’t trust your word. I’m just nervous, I suppose. She isn’t like–”

“Sevika’s good people,” Mel laughs, gazing at you with understanding. “But I get it. So here’s what I was thinking… We can host a brunch and invite her over? That way you can meet her formally and get to know her. Maybe show her around the place? As much as I want this to pan out great, it’s still your decision to make at the end of the day.” She pauses a few beats, trying to gauge your reaction. “What do you think?”

Your hands fiddle with the top of the swiffer handle as you weigh your options. You had put together a more elaborate and time consuming plan prior to today; which would have consisted of flyers and roommate interviews and even Facebook posts. Of course, posting to Facebook would have been the last resort; an addition to the plan that you only added out of mere desperation. But it was a plan nonetheless.

Mel’s offer is more tempting. 

“Okay,” You sigh, squeezing the handle of the swiffer. “But if this doesn’t work out, then you owe me ice cream.”

She beams, clapping her hands together excitedly. 

“And not the cheap kind,” You add. “I’m talking Cold Stone.”

Mel doesn’t appear to be fazed. Instead, she turns on her heels, making her way back to her room. “I’m gonna call Alicia and let her know!” The exclamation has a song-like lilt to it; a clear indication of her delight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting off a grin while you carry the swiffer to the trash can.

Your thumb absentmindedly plays with the stringy bracelet decorating your right wrist; a gift that Mel gave you over ten years ago when the two of you first became friends. It’s nearly falling apart now, but still a staple piece in your daily attire. You find yourself looming over the possible outcome of tonight’s gathering–for the ‘nth time–as your stomach stirs with unease. 

It’s not like you haven’t been obsessively ruminating over this very evening. It’s all you’ve been able to think about ever since Mel helped you plan it last week. But despite all of the preparation, your mouth still remains dry.

You’re seated at the dining table, with Mel to your right and Alicia right across from her. Sevika faces you directly, which is a circumstance you tried to desperately avoid upon Mel’s suggestion.

“How do you guys like the food?” Mel asks. “I can proudly say that I’ve managed to keep the kitchen intact while I was preparing it.”

Alicia’s eyes twinkle when she glances at her girlfriend. “It’s good, honey. Thank you.”

A pair of alert grey irises flicker to you: Sevika’s. 

The woman studies you with a gaze that is piercing and direct. She takes you in fully–something that she’s been doing all night–which makes you feel as if you’re under inspection. You can’t decide whether or not you like that about her.

“It was nice, Mel.” You reply. You wolfed down your food the minute your plate was served. So now you’re just awkwardly waiting for everyone else to finish their meal.

You usually don’t eat so quickly, but the task gave you something else to distract yourself with, rather than Sevika’s scrutiny. 

But despite doing everything possible to avoid her stare, you can’t help but notice the calm and leisure way she eats her food. From what you’ve gathered, she doesn’t seem fond of mixing meals with conversation. But there’s still a pleasant way that she dines. 

The oscillation of her jaw, especially with every chew, is a trait that you find particularly distracting…

“So, are you enjoying your return to town?” Mel inquires, turning to Sevika. She’s always had the talent of conversing with the least willing. 

It takes a few seconds for Sevika to shift her gaze away from you.

You feel your muscles relax when she does.

“Yeah, it’s been good,” Sevika’s voice adopts an amiable timbre; a pattern you’ve picked up on every time she addresses Mel. “The traffic sucks on the east side, but that's nothing new.”

Mel hums in understanding. “Well, I think you’ll like it here.The people are quieter. Life is slower.” 

That’s when Alicia takes that as her cue to wrap her arm around Sevika’s shoulder. They’re both nearly the same height, only Alicia is leaner. 

“It’s good that you’re back home,” Alicia butts in. “You’re getting wrinkles. You’ve been frowning too much.”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “I’ve been perfectly fine.”

“Is that so? I heard…”

You’re ripped from their conversation when Mel wraps her fingers around your bicep. She leans into your ear, whispering, “Let’s go to the kitchen.” 

You follow her without question.

It’s not until you’re grabbing the fruit salad out of the refrigerator when she says, “How are you liking her so far?”

You bite the inside of your cheek while carrying the dessert to the counter. 

“I don’t know.” You try to sort through your feelings to find some sort of opinion–anything–that can help you identify your stance. But it’s to no avail. “She’s a bit intense, don’t you think?” 

“Well,” Mel snickers. “I suppose.”

You glance up at her, noticing the way that she’s covering her smile with her hand. She flutters her eyelashes coyly, “But is that not a good thing? You’ve been staring at her all evening.” She continues, wiggling her eyebrow.

“Please don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying…”

“There’s nothing that needs to be said.”

“...the tension has been palpable ever since you laid eyes on her. You don’t have to make it into a bad thing, babe. You both are grown adults here.” 

Your jaw is clenching when you mutter, “Well, you're off-base on this one.”

You think you hear her laugh again, but you don’t have the energy to entertain it. Instead, you turn around and march back to the dining room.

Your eyes are slightly droopy from the combination of wine and dinner that sloshes in your belly.

Under the haze of the ceiling lamps, you stand with your arms folded across your chest.

“This would be your room,” You’re mumbling. Sevika hums beside you, only a few feet away. She’s so far yet so close. Too close.

Yet not close enough.

You feel silly for thinking such thoughts. 

It must be the wine.

The floorboards creak underneath her weight as she inspects the room. It has a fair amount of space in it. It’s larger than your room for sure. The connecting bathroom is smaller than yours though–a bargain that you and Mel made over a decade ago.

Sevika travels to a nearby wall, inspecting the paint job for a few seconds before peering at you.

Despite the warmth emanating from the heating system, a cool shiver runs through you. 

Your voice dips with humor when you explain that, “Mel painted it a while back.”

You examine the way she pushes her tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her nose. A vein from her right forearm flexes due to the movement. 

She smiles, poised and reposeful. 

“Figures,” That’s when you notice the fullness of her lips—her prominent cupid's bow, and how well they look when spread into a grin like that.

She stretches her arms above her head, back arching as she seemingly holds back a yawn. You fight the urge to do the same, eyes trailing over her physique before you can stop yourself. Sevika looks strong–really strong. Her arms are thick bands of pure muscle and her broad shoulders barely concave from the movement.

She’s wearing a long-sleeved button up, which has a toffee silk-like material. You don’t realize how low her black slacks are sitting on her hips until the hem of her shirt rises. A happy trail peaks through, as well as deeply grooved muscles. 

The sight feels sacrilegious and simultaneously pious. Your eyelids are heavy, droopy, when her muscles relax and her arms fall to her sides. You draw your attention back to her face. She’s caught you, eyebrows lifted and lips pursed to the side–an attempt to mask her amusement? You don’t know. Or at least, you don’t want to. 

With the sudden pounding of your heart, you gesture behind you, “I can show you the laundry room?” Your desire to escape has never felt so prominent until then.

You're beginning to realize that she makes it hard for you to breathe when you’re around her.

Laughter rings in the air between everyone–Sevika, you, Alicia and Mel–while Alicia tells a funny story about a customer she had a few days prior. You’re wearing one of your nighttime sweaters now, a glass of wine in your hand, while all of you sit in the living room. 

Sevika cards her hand through her hair. It’s no longer in its bun, meeting the sides of her face with buoyancy. The length is much longer than you initially thought, stopping a few inches below her neck; a feathery cut that frames her face quite perfectly.

She sits with her legs parted, left arm resting along the back of the couch. Her fingers lay a few inches from your right shoulder. With a mere flex of her hand, she’d be able to touch you. 

Amidst the ring of Alicia’s voice–she’s going into detail about another story now–you turn to Sevika and ask, “Are you a heavy sleeper?”

You receive a better angle of her chiseled jaw when she tilts her head, expression contemplative while she thinks of an answer. You aren’t sure why it takes her so long since it’s not necessarily a loaded question to ask, but still—you allow her to think.

“Not really,” Her eyes dart back to you. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“I'm not sure,” You blink through a daze, overcome with an unexpected wave of tranquility due to her regard. “I listen to music sometimes in the middle of the night. It helps with my insomnia.”

“...Well, is it loud?”

“Not all the time. But you may hear it faintly.”

A nod. “Then that’s fine with me.”

You swivel the wine in your hand, “Besides going out for work, a lot of my hobbies consist of me being at home. You’ll probably see me a lot.”

“Not a problem.”

“I’m not incredibly messy or dirty but…” Your palms sweat from the loose confession. “I’m not a neat freak. And I don't like mornings. I'm really grumpy any hour before 11. Like—I will not speak if I can avoid it. And I’m a terrible cook.”

She looks away from you momentarily, lips rubbing together as her hand flexes. You grow rigid at the motion; she’s only inches away from coming in contact with your shoulder. Then her fingers relax. She looks back at you. Her lips part, “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

Her left eyebrow twitches. “You call the shots. If you don't think it’ll work, I can look into renting somewhere else.”

“I'm just trying to be transparent with you as much as possible.” 

You don't want any surprises. The last thing you need is the false hope of thinking this will work just to ultimately have the infamous roommate disagreements that you've heard too much about. 

You got lucky with Mel. 

For 13 years, you’ve managed to have the best roommate dynamic. But now she's leaving soon. And you fear that those 13 years have just been a fluke.

If Sevika is truly serious about moving in, you need to make sure that it'll be a right fit.

“Do you have any kids?” You find yourself asking.

She lets out a gusty breath; a dry chuckle mixed with a hint of disbelief. For a second, you fear that you've offended her.

But then she's replying, “God no.” She grins with her head slightly shaking. You swear she leans a few inches closer as she adds, “Do you?”

You blink. You swallow. You try to not get distracted by the swirling grey of her irises. They're quite pretty. Too pretty. Unbelievably pretty.

“Definitely not.” 

Her grin widens, “Okay, so we at least have that in common.” She allows her eyes to flicker to other features of your face; your eyebrows, then your cheeks, then your nose. “Are there any other incriminating questions that you have?”

“Of course.”

She laughs again and her eyes fall shut. There's a part of you that wants to draw closer to her at that moment. But you remain where you are; as if you’re resisting the tug of a rope. 

“Okay,” She mutters, voice a gentle hum while her lips remain pulled into a grin. 

“Does that annoy you?” You find yourself asking. It’s a silent test. You want to know if this will turn her away. Is she willing to answer your long list of questions? And if she is–will you find something about her that you don’t like? 

“No, I don’t mind at all.” Her eyes flutter open slowly, blazing a stormy grey when they land on you. “Ask however many questions you need.” 

Her hand flexes once more. This time you feel it. It’s the slightest graze, and too fleeting for it to feel real. The tip of her forefingers brush against the material of your shirt, at the very top of your bicep, before she’s running her hand through her hair. It could have been an accident–a mere sweep due to her close proximity–but you guess you’d never truly know.  

Your breathing falters. She blinks at you with a placid expression, seemingly unfazed. 

“Okay,” You clear your throat, shifting your weight restlessly. You try to put more distance between you two by subtly scooting a few inches to your left.

“...Going to get some more wine. Be right back!’ Mel calls. 

The bubble around you and Sevika bursts.

You’re submerged into the sound of the TV playing an Old Navy commercial. Alicia stares at the screen with droopy eyes, feet propped up in the recliner chair and hands clasped together as they rest on her stomach. She hums lazily at Mel’s announcement. Faintly, you begin to hear Mel rummaging through the kitchen: the clanging of silverware, the rush of running water, then the thump! of a closing cupboard. The calming livelihood of Mel and Alicia’s existence buzzes around you. But you somehow find yourself turning back towards Sevika because, although you don't want to admit it, she’s a new enigma that’s hurdled into your life. 

She beholds you with remarkable patience, elbow now resting against the back of the couch as she cradles her temple with her hand. 

“So…” She says, voice laced with an expectation. She’s waiting on you.

“Right,” You nod. You shake your head in an attempt to clear the brain fog. Must be the alcohol... "Do you smoke?”

Sevika does smoke; she has a preference for cigars. 

She’s a tattoo artist, which you never pinned her for. But after a few seconds of contemplation, it makes sense. She tells you that it’s been her career for a long time now.

She’s quite the morning person and a bit meticulous about her living environment. She likes to cook and happily divulges in burning incense. She doesn't have very many friends, but the ones she does have are practically her family—who, she assures with an unwavering gaze, are people that, “You will love.”

She doesn't watch much television, but she does have a knack for sports. “I like to have my friends over on game days,” She admits, sending you a sidelong glance. “Would that be something you're okay with?”

Not much time passes before you're nodding your head yes.

Sevika has no siblings and no parents. Her parents passed away a while back–a fact that you seemed more saddened by than her–and left her their house, which is why she moved out of town a few years ago.

When you ask her why she’s decided to return, she doesn't answer. 

It’s your only question that makes her come to a full stop.

When the night ends and she’s getting ready to leave the apartment with Alicia quickly behind her, it’s the only question that's lingering in your mind.

And after Mel closes the door, bolts it shut and asks, “Any red flags from Sevika?”

It’s the sole reason why you find yourself hesitating, wanting—for some strange reason—to tell Mel yes. Even though every fiber of your being knows that the true answer is no.

Sevika’s vehicle is exactly the sort of car you’d picture her in. A sleek black Ram 1500 sits in front of you. Your eyes are wandering. You can't help it. You don't want to make it into a thing. It's only a truck after all…

But you've always admired cars, especially the big shiny ones.

 “I would have showed you this days ago had I known you’d be so pleased,” Sevika muses. That's when you draw your attention back to her. "I didn't know you liked cars so much."

She's gazing at you with the smallest form of a smirk on her face. You want to wipe it off; you feel vulnerable somehow. Exposed.

Your blink wordlessly, breath shallowing and palms clamming up. 

How is she so infuriatingly good looking? 

Then, as if you've suddenly become aware of everything else about her, you're taking the rest of her body into account. Her bulging biceps are flexed due to the moving box in her arms. Small beads of sweat collect at the base of her neck…some sliding into the dips of her collarbones. Her hair is pulled into a low bun, highlighting the clenching of her jaw as she chews her gum; minty breath wafting towards you. Your stomach dips. 

“Shut up,” You mutter.

Her grin widens. She laughs. You struggle to suppress one yourself. 

She doesn't say anything else.

You stand awkwardly by her truck as she turns to walk into the apartment. 

A part of you doesn't know what to make of this. Here you are, moving a woman that you've just met into your apartment, with no idea of how this will turn out.

You feel like you're floundering through life. Surely, everyone else your age is settled down with a family and a secure living environment—not stressing over the prospect of a new roommate. This situation feels too…juvenile. It would make sense for a younger version of yourself to be facing roommate insecurity. It would make sense for your younger self to grow uncharacteristically flustered and perturbed around someone like Sevika.

But not now. No—certainly not now.

The sound of Sevika’s footsteps pull you from your reverie. When you glance in her direction, the first thing you notice is the quirk of her eyebrows. You shift your weight, wringing your hands as you work up the courage to say, “I can help,” You clear your throat. “If you want.”

She’s in the middle of grabbing another box from her car but stops mid-reach from the sound of your offer. She cranes her neck, lines appearing in her forehead as she mutters, “I’m good.”

You take offense to that. Does she think you're weak? That you're not strong enough to carry a few stupid boxes? Or worse—has she already found a reason to dislike you?

Goosebumps trail up your back.

“I’m strong enough, you know.” You find yourself tilting your chin up defiantly. 

“Is that so?”

“I may not be ripped like you,” You fold your arms across your chest and you hear a snort. A fucking snort! “But I don't do pilates for nothing."

That's when she stands upright, two stacked boxes now in her arms. She manages to rest them on her left hip, closing the back door in one swift motion.

"Yeah?" Then she’s tilting her head slightly, appraising you with an expression that nearly sets you on fire. "You think I'm strong?"

The world around you spins and you're nearly knocked off balance.

There's a part of your spirit that uncurls. Heat plants a seed in your gut then burns, burns, burns.

Perspiration has gathered at the base of your neck, and one bead of sweat drips down the slope of your spine. Then another. You're scowling at her, a reaction that she seems to enjoy, when you feel the drip of one more.

She takes your silence without question. Her irises trail down to your crossed arms then back up to your face before continuing. “You don't have to lift a single one of those pretty fingers for me.” Then you feel her warmth—her touch—at the tip of your chin. It's a small brush with her index finger, yet strong enough to tilt your head before she's pulling away. Then she's grabbing the boxes with both of her hands, snickering under her breath while adding, “But since you seem like the adamant type—be my guest, darling.”

Your legs tremble when she brushes past you.

For the rest of the evening, you allow her to settle into the apartment without your help.

“Sevika?” Your voice is scratchy from lack of use. “Can you help me?”

You're frustrated because you can't find your favorite mug. The entire kitchen is spotless—a sort of clean you haven't seen in ages. You're grateful for Sevika—truly, you are. But due to how organized it all is, you now have difficulty locating everything. The way she cleans and sorts through the apartment is completely different from your way. 

Irritated, you call her name again. But no answer.

You know that she’s in her room because her door is closed. It’s only been a few days since she’s moved in but you’ve started to notice that she likes to leave it open when she's not in there. 

You sigh, storming to her room. You have a taste for tea, something you've been craving all morning. And now that you've finally finished your work, you’d been so excited to drink it. 

But now you're completely turned about by the state of the kitchen. Nothing is where you usually keep it.

“Sevika!” You practically bark, voice growing thin. “Are you awake?”

You're about to knock on her door—a disturbance that would surely wake her if she's in a deep slumber—but then it flies open. And there she stands, wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top. She appears to have just showered, hair seemingly damp and towel in her hand. That familiar woodsy scent of hers hits you like a tide wave, but this time it’s tenfold stronger than what it usually is.

“Is there a reason why you're shouting my name at 10 AM?”

You swallow thickly. Your mouth has suddenly become dry. “I can't find the mugs.”

Sevika blinks slowly then mutters, “What?”

“The mugs. They're a type of cup, cylindrical in size? Often used to drink things like coffee, tea, hot ch-”

“They're in the cupboard by the refrigerator.”

“...”

“...”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why are they in there? I’ve never put them there before.”

“You could barely reach the cupboard they were originally in—”

“That's why I have a stepping stool!”

“So I figured it would be easier if they were moved to one that's more accessible for you. I told you about this Tuesday. Do you not remember?”

“...You never told me that.”

“Yes,” Her jaw grinds. “I did. You were talking to Mel on facetime and nearly ate shit when grabbing that awfully gaudy mug you like,” Oh. “So I told you that I would move it to the cupboard by the refrigerator,” Oh. “And you looked me right in the eye, smiled and said you thought that was a great idea.” Fuck. “...Do you not remember that?”

That’s right.

You did say that.

Your heartbeat skips from the piercing silence.

God, she's going to think you're crazy now.

Sevika sighs. 

Shoving down a mountain of guilt, you shift your weight, “I’m sorry. I don't think I actually processed that conversation when it happened.”

She isn't quick to reply, and you're not sure where to go from there. So you add, “Um, would you like some tea?”

As a peace offering, you make Sevika a cup of tea the next morning too.

The third day is when you have to go back to work, so you force yourself awake earlier than you want. There's still a small chip of guilt weighing on your shoulders that morning, so you fix Sevika a cup of tea again.

You also do it for that following morning because it's Saturday. Who wouldn't want tea on Saturday?

Sunday is a lazy day for Sevika. But somehow she's already in the kitchen when you stumble in at a harrowing 8am. She's waiting for the toaster oven to sound when you pull two mugs out of the cupboard. Even after the appliance dings, she lingers with you in the kitchen, silently eating her toast while you prepare the kettle. Ten minutes later, she’s drinking her tea while her elbows lean against the island counter. 

You hold onto your mug tightly and listen to the chirping of the birds in the distance. The only other sound that is audible are her even breaths. 

You don't know how you've settled into such a routine after 8 days of living with her. But somehow, standing in the middle of the kitchen together with nothing but comfortable silence, you think that you’ve found the oasis of serenity.

[gok1bvri72]

Aightt,I had an idea for fluff dtk x (gn)reader who is Asymmetrical, meaning their appearance is Asymmetrical/messy n they're somewhat more chaotic. Basically a whole polar opposite of Kid. But yet they somehow work together,as if they complete each other(like reader helping Kid calm down when he's worried abt smth being asymmetrical too much,n Kid calming down reader when they act as if they got sugar overdose n would destroy everything on their way)

Basically yin n yang couple,,,

It can be a oneshot,or headcanon,or both,,I'd lov to read anything:))

OMG THIS IS BASICALLY ESU 72(my OC) AND KID ALREADY EJFKEKFK dw I got this in the baaaaag😔😔😔👏👏👏👏 This just an excuse to ramble about how much I LOOOOVE THIS DYNAMIC😩😩😩 (Pictures of Esu will be at the end if you're curious about her!)

Death the Kid x Asymmetrical!Reader~☆٭꙳

TW: Kid swears cuz he's potty mouth, other than that we gucci!!

☆ You.

☆ YOU.

☆ You were HORRIBLY asymmetrical and so unbearably friendly. With your stupid outfit and uneven bangs. They were lopsided!! Oh it drove him CRAZY.

☆ But your overly friendly rear end just keeps on /showing/ up. You never seem to want to leave him alone.

☆ Everything about you two was different, even down to your colour schemes!

☆ He was a pessimist, you were an optimist. He was an asshole, you were a ray of sunshine. He was a ballerina, you were a punk. (/j about that one.)

☆ Even your combat styles managed to be opposites with him being far ranged and fast you being hand to hand and a little slower.

☆ But somehow, that made you guys work like clock work almost.

☆ Where he falters, you cover him. And where you struggle, he picks up your slack.

☆ For instance, he isn't the most social person but definitely knows how to carry a conversation where as you want to make friends, but you're extremely awkward.

☆ So he'll help pull up topics for you while you do all the talking for him.

☆ Me thinks you guys would have matching outfits, but in an opposites kinda way.

☆ Like he'd wear black and purple with yellow accents and you'd wear white and yellow with purple accents. You feel me?

☆ You're also kind of more on the dumb side, so he helps you with homework since he's the brains of the two of you.

☆ But you're infuriating little grin makes up for your dense noggin.

☆ You probably wear lots of colours opposed to Kid's monochromatic colour scheme. Like that one rainbow hair girl and the goth one, yeah that's you and Kid.

☆ I imagine you'd also try your best to straighten paintings with Kid but always be an inch off and he'd rant and rave at you.

☆ But he also apologizes after cuz he realises he was being a douche and you were just trying your best:(

☆ "Damnit, I'm sorry that was impolite. I... didn't mean any of that. You're much more than trash, I assure you."

☆ There was one time you made a bracelet for him, but he refused to wear it cuz it'd make him asymmetrical and unbalanced so you turned around and left.

☆ He thought he upset you so he went to find you, turns out you were making a matching bracelet for him to wear on the other arm so he'd stay balanced.

☆ God he loves you so much and doesn't even realise it. Boy is down bad.

☆ You guys really are like the sun and moon, a golden retriever and a black cat.

☆ Completely opposite, but that also makes you perfectly balanced. You two work together in perfect sync and fill in gaps the other leaves. Two pieces of a puzzle stuck together flawlessly.

☆ Like the little dancers in a music box.

☆ No matter how much of this you point out though, he'll still vehemently deny all of it.

☆ But like, you also do your best to fold toilet-paper for him so maybe you're not too bad. (He would die for you.)

-----

Heeeere's Esu! I'd lore dump for hours but that'd make this post ten times as long٩( ᐛ )و So I'll leave it with just the info in the reference! Hope you enjoyed the little thingy, stay hydrated and eat well!!! ✨✨✨

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter Two: Setting Sail

Read Chapter One / Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore and special appearances by Copia and Terzo, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either so ye be warned, um canon accurate Terzo?, nsfw 18+only mdni, 2,500 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner, collage and dividers!)

Your blood was on fire.

Mary had spent a few moments licking over your pulse, chuckling at your continued pleas to let you go.  At the first touch of their fangs your knees went weak and Mary settled more firmly against you to keep you upright.  The pain was blinding, making your mouth open in a silent cry as it seemed to build and build.  You had never felt pain like this before, never felt anything like this before.  Your hands clawed at Mary’s back but it was no use.

You were going to die in this alley.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind Mary pulled away.  You couldn’t stop the whimper that left you as his fangs pulled out of your neck.  Despite his bite only going on for a handful of moments it felt odd not to have them there anymore.  Like you were empty almost.  The feeling scared you, your mind wandering to the stories your nanny had told you about those that fell under a vampire’s thrall.

“A thrall?!”  Mary’s head whipped up, their eyes brighter than any ruby you had ever seen and their smile wide and dripping with your blood.  “That’s adorable.  Do you wanna be my thrall, little starfish?”

“I don’t want to be your anything.”

“You say that now but I bet I’ll change your mi–shit!”

Mary doubled over when you jammed your knee into his crotch.  Their grip lessened enough that you were able to shove them down onto the mist covered ground and escape past them.  You stumbled across the uneven cobblestones, desperate to at least get to the street.  If you got there you’d have a better chance of getting away and hopefully either finding somewhere to hide or one of your father’s soldiers.  

As you reached the end of the alley the mist became thicker and nearly impossible to see through.  Mary shouted behind you and you dared a look back right as you reached the street.  The only thing you could see were his red eyes glaring at you from the mist and you knew that would be something that would haunt your dreams for years.  You gasped when your foot got caught on a stone and you stumbled, bracing yourself to land hard on the ground except the ground never came.

“Steady now, ragazza.”  

The heavily accented voice drifted over you as you tried to steady yourself in the man’s grip.  You looked up to thank him, expecting to see a soldier but your words froze in your throat.  

There was nothing there.

“Wh-what…”  You tried to pull away from whatever had a hold of you but the grip was firm and a chill began to creep up your arms.  “Let me go!”    

“Yeah, Copia,”  Another chill ran through you but this had more to do with the monster now standing at your back.  “Let go of my snack.”

“You were supposed to bring her to the ship, idiota.”

“I’m working on it.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against their chest.  “Just got a little sidetracked is all.  Did her daddy get the note?”

“Sì, Phantom left it on his front door.”  

The hold on your arms finally disappeared and you quickly wrapped them around your waist.  Behind you Mary laughed and you whimpered when you felt their breath on the wound they left on your neck.

“What’s the matter, starfish?  Never seen a ghost before?”  Your eyes searched the mist before you, trying to make sense of what was happening.  A ghost?  “You have to focus now.  Just watch.”

As Mary spoke the mist before you seemed to get thicker, swirling and concentrating until it began to resemble a figure.  Your eyes trailed up from the cobblestones, taking in the man that was seemingly appearing from nothing.  He was still not entirely there, the building behind him visible through his body.  The only things that seemed solid about him were his green and white eyes and right now they were focused on you.  

“Ciao, bella.”

“Hey!”  Mary slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you securely against their chest.  “None of that, she’s mine.”

“I just said hello!”

“Yeah but that’s how it always starts.”

The ghost, Copia, rolled his eyes but you could see a hint of a smirk on his face.   

“We need to go.”  Copia took a few steps back, his form briefly disappearing into the mist before he was visible again.  “Before the spell wears off preferably.”

“Where are you taking me?”  You tried to dig your heels in but Mary was too strong, easily pulling you along as they began to walk down the street.  Ahead of you Copia’s eyes appeared off and on but he seemed mostly concerned with if anyone was following you.  “Are you…can I go back home?”

“Nope!  Someplace even better.”

Fighting was useless so you let Mary pull you through the streets.  There was random shouting around but you never caught sight of anyone else.  Occasionally Copia would disappear completely only to come back with blood dripping from a very real looking sword in his hand.  So many questions were building up inside of you but you kept your mouth shut until you finally saw your destination.

The Repugnant.

“No!”  You shoved at Mary with all your might, kicking at him when they lifted you into the air.  “Let me go!”

“Sorry, starfish.  You’re stuck with us for a while.”  Mary grunted when your foot connected with their knee, letting go of you with a curse.  “Copia!  Take her!”

You quickly looked up from where you had fallen onto the street, your eyes immediately meeting those of the ghost.  The moon peeked through the clouds and you were able to make out more of his face.  Hair that was blowing wildly around his head despite no breeze around, sideburns and then a mustache perched over a smug grin.

“Mi dispiace, bella.  Captain’s orders.”  

All the fight left you then and you didn’t say a word when the strange cold hands lifted you up onto your feet.  There was no telling what they’d do to you if you kept fighting them.  At least for now it seemed they were trying to get something from your father so perhaps you were safe for the time being.  You turned your head to look at Mary, shivering when you saw their ruby gaze on you.  The bite throbbed under his stare and you couldn’t help but press one of your hands over the still bleeding wound.

Maybe safe wasn’t the best word to use.

Mary started stalking towards you, their eyes glued onto your neck.  You shivered when they reached a hand out to pull yours away from the bite wound.  Copia muttered something behind you and Mary jerked their head towards the ship.  Mary’s grip tightened on your hand as the ghost disappeared, leaving only cold air behind you.

“Are you going to behave, little starfish?”  When you nodded weakly Mary smiled and licked their lips.  “Good.  I’d hate to have to tie you up.”  Mary brought your hand close to their face, sniffing at your skin briefly.  To your horror they stuck their tongue out and lapped at the blood that had gotten on your hand.  “Has anyone ever told you how good you taste?”

“Please…I’m sure my father would pay anything you asked for to get me back.”

“Oh I’m counting on it.”  They laughed when you tried to tug your hand away, holding it even tighter.  “On second thought maybe I should tie you up.  Drink my fill of you while you can’t do anything about it.”

“No!”

“No?  You don’t like that idea?”  Mary grinned and yanked you against them, one hand slipping around your waist and resting low on your back.  “You’re right, it’ll be more fun to have you put up a fight.”

Their mouth descended on your neck again but instead of teeth you just felt the wet strokes of Mary’s tongue.  They lapped at your neck slowly, cleaning up the blood that was quickly drying in the night air.  You let yourself go limp against them, silent tears streaming down your face while they worked. 

What would become of you on Mary’s ship?  Was it full of more ghosts like Copia?  Or were there worse things on board, things that you’d only be able to imagine in your nightmares.  Would Mary drink from you again? 

Oh don’t worry, starfish.  I’ll be tasting you again.

You froze when Mary’s voice drifted through your head, looking at him in alarm when he straightened up to meet your eyes.  When you started shaking your head Mary just laughed before starting down the dock towards the ship, dragging you along behind them.  You couldn’t help but stare at the ship in awe as they tugged you towards it.  The tall black sails disappeared into the night sky but you could just make out the jolly roger flag billowing in the wind.  Mary stopped at the edge of the gangplank, a bright grin on their face while they reached up to cup your cheek.

“Soon you'll be begging for it.”

The deck of the ship was chaotic.

You found yourself hiding your face against Mary’s shoulder, scared to see what was around you.  There were shouts, snarls, growls…sounds that you had never even heard before.  You couldn’t even imagine what they might belong to.  It was almost a relief when you heard Copia’s voice.

“Are you putting her in your cabin?”

“No, she’ll be too distracting.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lifted your chin up with a single finger.  “She can stay with your brother.”

“Terzo isn’t going to like that.”

“Yeah?  Well Terzo is in no position to dictate what I do on my ship.”  The vampire poked the tip of your nose before addressing you.   “You don’t mind hanging out with Terzo, do ya starfish?”

“Wh-what is Terzo?”

“Ah, he’s mostly harmless.”  Mary tugged at your shoulder and started leading you towards the stairs that led into the ship’s belly.  “Honestly it’s probably the safest place on my ship.  Hard to say what the others might be tempted to do to you.”

“What are…”  You dared a look around you, freezing when your eyes landed on something that could only be described as a giant insect.  The creature cocked their head and blinked at you before a set of wings spread out behind them and they took off into the air.  “I think I’m going to faint.”

“Don’t worry, starfish.  They might be tempted but they know not to touch you.”  Mary continued to lead you through the inside of the ship, past various doors until they stopped before one at the end of the passageway.  “Only I get to do that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Come on, we both know that’s not true.”  They began to move closer, crowding you back against the wall.  It was beginning to be overwhelming having them this close.  All you could think about was their tongue on your skin and their teeth in your neck.  Mary pushed their head up close, their lips grazing your cheek when they spoke.  “It sure feels like you enjoy it when I touch you.”

“That’s a lie!”

Mary easily blocked your knee and grabbed your hands when you tried to hit him.  You felt like crying when they spun you around to face the door to the cabin.

“There’s no use lying to me, I can already feel your emotions.”  They lowered their head and licked across the bite wound, their chest vibrating with laughter when you whimpered.  “Just imagine what I’ll be able to do when I get an even better taste.”

Mary had the cabin door open before you could think of an answer, shoving you inside roughly before slamming it closed.  You took a few tentative steps as your eyes adjusted to the dark room, nervously looking around for whoever or whatever Terzo was.  The small window barely let any moonlight in so you could just make out a bed, a dresser and a table with a couple chairs.  There were a few items on top of the dresser, one almost looked like a mannequin head but you were too scared to get any closer.  When your eyes finally adjusted to the dimness you were able to make out what looked to be a figure sitting in one of the chairs in the far corner.

“H-hello?”  You gripped your dress skirts in your hands to try to stop them from shaking.  “Terzo?”

“Buonasera, dolcezza.”  Your head jerked over to the dresser, startled when the voice seemed to come from there instead of the chair.  “Mi dispiace, I would have cleaned up if I had known I was going to have a guest.”

“I’m not a guest.”  It was hard to keep the venom from your voice but you couldn’t help it.  You looked back at the chair when the legs moved, one leg elegantly crossing over the other as you watched.  “I’m a prisoner.”

“Ah, so the Captain was successful then.  Bene, molto bene.”

“Yes, he kidnapped me.  Him and that ghost.”

“So you met mio fratello then?  Quite the sight isn’t he?”  Terzo laughed then and you nervously glanced towards the dresser top again.  “What you can see of him anyway.”

“Are you a ghost too?”

“Un fantasma?  Oh no dolcezza, I’m as solid as they come.”  

A horrible tingling sensation started crawling over your skin as you watched the figure in the chair straighten up.  There was something off about it but it was too dark to get a good look.  You couldn’t help but take a step back when they got up and began to walk towards the dresser.  The sparse moonlight caught the figure and when you finally realized what was wrong about them your jaw dropped.  

“You…you…”  

You couldn’t even get the words to leave your mouth as the horrific sight before you started to make sense.  No, not sense, nothing on this ship made any damned sense.  The sound of a match being struck filled the room and when you got a better look at Terzo as he lit some candles you stumbled back until you hit the door of the room.  The knob rattled uselessly in your hand, locked and unwilling to turn.

“Is everything ah, okie dokie, dolcezza?”  Terzo finished with the candles and then held the match out to the mannequin head.  You jumped when a face was briefly lit up in the light before the match flame was blown out.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“How are you…”  Your vision started to swim as Terzo picked up the head, his head, casually holding it in his hands at his waist.  “But that’s your…”

“Sì, I’m afraid my head got separated from the rest of me.”  Terzo lifted his head up higher, close to where it should be on his neck.  “I’d almost rather be a ghost to be honest.  Or un mostro.  What do you think, dolcezza?” 

Terzo thrust his head your way then, his lips turned up in a bright grin.  You barely were able to make out his features before the room began to get dark again.  As your knees buckled and you fell to the floor you could have sworn you heard Mary’s voice in your head...

Sleep tight, starfish.

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[lights-at-night]

hello everyone today i am pondering long hair faulkner. his brothers dont know how to hair and his dad just isnt there, so he's always kept it down. sometime during the season 1 roadtrip carpenter and paige teach him how to braid. at some point in season 2 he and carpenter do each other's hair. faulkner tries to keep carpenter's braids but the parish either put his hair in elaborate traditional hairstyles or cut it off completely. carpenter keeps it in as long as she can and once she's on the run she doesn't have time to undo it, and doesn't really want to. she keeps the braids in her hair even if they're uneven and messy and she needs to wash her hair. when they meet in the finale faulkner is almost unrecognizable to her and she looks exactly like the last time he saw her.

[l3viat8an]

So besides being a levi lover I'm also a Belphie Believer‼️

I love that bratty little emo sm it's not even funny

Anyways

Belphie going up to the attic to fuck you when he doesn't feel like sharing with beel

Like yeah they're twins and all but sometimes sweet boy just wants you to himself‼️

-🕸

Nsfw content MDNI

Listen, alone time when it’s just Belphie and you is just necessary sometimes!!

Both of you, sitting there, in the big attic bed, with you in his lap.

You’re laying there basically on top of Belphie already, grinding against each other, clothes only half tugged off so you can feel each other.

He finally pulls your underwear aside and slowly sinks his cock into you, it always fills you out so well~

His head thrown back as you push your face into his neck, gently nipping at the skin as your hands move to his head, gently running through his soft two toned hair.

Belphie’s own arms quickly wrapping around you at the same time, pulling you a little closer to him

His moans fill the room while yours are more soft whimpers.

Every movement is slow, almost lazy as his hands help you move up and down on his cock..,,,,until Belphie gets impatient, hands grabbing you hips a little tighter, as his hips start meeting your movements making you whine a little louder.

Closer. That’s closer to what he wants. But what he really, really wants to hear are those louder, sweeter moans and sounds you let out when he fucks you harder and fills you with his cum~

“Baby…...I wanna hear you…c’mon…gimme those pretty sounds I know you can make..” he half mumbles, one hand moving to your hair, giving it a gentle, almost begging you to pull your face away from his neck so he can see you as he fucks you.

“Heh, that’s my baby….so cute and all for me..” Belphie groaned as you throw your head back, moans and small pants of how close you were leaving your lips. His hips never stopping even as he adjusts his hold on you, “‘m gonna cum inside..that alright baby?” His voice sounds a little rougher and he’s getting closer himself. You weakly nod your head in approval,and then you finally cum around his cock.

His thrusts became uneven and messy as you do and then he’s pulling your hips down almost impossibly closer to his, his cum filling you as he threw his head back, mumbling “So…so good…fuck I love you MC….”

[amiserableseriesofevents]

[giving them a panicked hug] "no, no, no, no!" OR "shit, no, that's not what i meant." (if one of them inspires you dear 🥰)

After a week spent hiking, it's their turn! Modern AU, not Such Stuff related 🥰🏔️

John has been acting weird for weeks, and for the life of him Gale can't understand why.

For starters, he personally suggested the location for their holiday, a task that usually Gale takes on; one day he came home to a depliant of a quaint camping site in the mountains, amidst the nature, with suggestions on several hiking trails. It's not the first holiday they've spent hiking, they both like to stay outside and breath fresh air when they're not in the office and they're both in good enough shape to take on even steeper trails if the view is worth it, and it seemed like this particular place meant a lot to John so Gale had agreed to his plan, secretly pleased that he was the one taking the initiative for once.

That was only the first weirdness, though.

Since then, John keeps acting like he's hiding something and he's such a terrible liar that Gale knows something is going on, he just knows it.

He packed his own suitcase without accepting any help from Gale, and he triple checked everything before leaving when he's usually one to shrug and say he'll deal with it even if he forgets to pack something crucial like a clean pair of pants or a toothbrush. If it were winter Gale would think John's hiding his birthday present; but it's fucking July, their anniversary is not coming for two more months, and Gale cannot think about another date worth celebrating.

The strangest thing though happened just this morning, when they were getting ready for the hike and John dressed all in blue – an extremely sober choice for him that usually wears clashing colors like a hot pink tank top with yellow shorts and neon green socks. “Are you feeling alright?” Gale ventured to ask him, genuinely worried.

“Yeah of course Buck, why?” Was John's answer, with a hint of hysterics in his voice, so Gale decided to not push him; whatever is going on with him, sooner or later Bucky will tell him.

The hike he's chosen for today is splendid: a narrow dirt track amongst tall trees whose shadow provide a welcome respite from the summer heat, the air filled with the fragrant smell of resin and dirt. John told him there's a lake waiting for them at the end of the trail, with several bits of sandy shore all around where they can lie their picnic blanket and rest after the long walk.

“It's pear shaped, you know Buck? The lake I mean,” John tells him, his rambling never stopping even when he'd need to save his breath. “It's great, you're gonna love it. The water's a bit cold but no worse than Lake Michigan.”

“You came here with your family, right?”

“Yup, for three summers when I was a kid. I've always wanted to come back and I thought, what better chance to do it than, ah, with you, my love,” John answers, clearly almost giving up his secret. Gale feels his gaze on him, nervous, and he smiles back at him, grabbing his hand. He's not usually the type for PDA, but they're alone in a forest and John seems to be needing it, so Gale weaves their fingers together and they keep walking like that for a while, careful not to jostle each other on the uneven ground.

“I'm happy you decided to bring me here,” Gale says after a while. “Thank you for always sharing these things with me, John. It means a whole lot.”

John pulls him closer for a kiss, then stares seriously in his eyes. “I'll always share everything with you Buck, I promise,” he tells him. Gale hesitates, wondering if that's John way of suggesting him to ask about whatever he's hiding right now, but then John's focus shifts back to the trail and he decides to drop the subject.

After an hour or so they reach the last part of the trail, the hardest one: a steep staircase carved into the side of the mountain, more or less thirty steps to reach the other side before climbing down to the lake's shore.

“Once we're up there we'll be able to see the lake!” John exclaims, his childish enthusiasm making him all the more jittery, a smile on his face wider than any Gale has seen before.

Gale goes first, eager to catch a glimpse on the view. The sun beats down on him, unforgiving, and he feels beads of sweat forming along his hairline, his t-shirt progressively more and more stuck to his back. There are more step than John remembered, bordering on sixty, but once Gale reaches the top he immediately forgives him for his inaccuracy because the view is truly breathtaking: the lake is blue, the deepest blue Gale has ever seen in his life, and the light hits it just right so that parts of its surface look like they're made of shimmering diamonds. All around the shore there are more tall trees, their bright green in contrast with the sapphire hue of the water and the turquoise of the sky, dotted here and there with fluffy white clouds.

Gale leans back against the rock wall, breathless and mesmerized. He hears John reaching the peak after him but doesn't turn too him, too entranced by the view. “John. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he says, voice shaky with wonder.

“I know, right?” John says, and by the mirth in his voice Gale knows that he's looking at him and not at the view. He turns to him, ready to affectionately scold him, and he finds him down on one knee with a small box in hand.

His brain short-circuits.

“No!”

How did he not think about it? Every single one of John's weirdnesses of the past few months suddenly makes sense: he chose a place that meant a lot to him, dressed all nice for Gale, and waited for the best possible moment to propose. He can't believe it. It was so obvious, so-

It's only when he notices that John has gone pale, his eyes wide with confusion and heartbreak, that he realizes he's spoken out loud. John got down on one knee to propose, and he shouted no at him.

“No?" John asks, little more than a whimper.

"Shit, no, that's not what I meant!” Gale says, frantically trying to make up for his mistake. “It was a no to me, not to you! Because I've been trying to understand what was going on with you for weeks and now that I know it was so obvious, I can't believe I couldn't see it!”

“...so?” John asks, still on one knee.

“Ask the question. I promise I'm not gonna say no.”

“You promise?”

Gale nods, and John takes a deep breath. “Buck, my love, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Gale shouts, louder than the no he spoke before, and throws himself at John when the other rises back on his feet, kissing him with all the passion and joy he can muster.

“Buck, the ring!” John tells him between kisses, and Gale reluctantly lets him go; there are tears on John's face and in his eyes, but Gale hopes they're of happiness just like the ones he feels wet on his cheeks.

The ring is beautiful, a simple silver band with a B engraved on the inside. “It's perfect, John” Gale tells him, beaming.

John gives him a kiss on the tip of the nose. “Never do something like that again,” he half threatens, half pleads. “I was about to throw myself in the lake from here.”

“I promise. I'll make it up to you.”

“Your wedding vows better be fucking fire, Buck.”

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night Azriel found out her secret

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, mention of injuries and slight abuse

summary: Azriel is concerned over Val's strange behavior and when he sees she is hurt, he demands to know who hurt her only to find an answer he had never thought to expect.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. this takes place months after the Solstice imagine. I'm excited bc now that they're all older, we can get into the more romance/angsty bits :)

**

Azriel sat in a cozy armchair in the living room of the house. He tried to immerse himself into the words in the book but could not focus. Lady Yvaine was with her husband, Rhysand was with Andrina and Cassian was with Tanwyn.

But Valeria was nowhere in sight and the lateness of the hour only heightened his concern.

Over the past few weeks, a newfound worry had taken root within Azriel, gnawing at his thoughts and leaving him restless.  Valeria, usually vibrant and full of energy, now seemed burdened, her spirit dimmed.

Azriel had noticed the change the same she had on him last Solstice. The fatigue etched on her face and then, there was the wince in her walk some days. He once confronted her about a bruise that marred her skin the other day only for her to laugh and brush it off. He knew something was wrong. He had sent his shadows after her but even they couldn't discern the secret she so closely guarded.

As he closed his book, readying himself to go search for her, his shadows whirled around him, a silent alarm rippling through them. His senses sharpened, attuned to the faint sounds of a soft, uneven gait approaching. 

A moment later, Valeria emerged into the room, her face contorted in pain, failing to conceal her discomfort. As she lifted her gaze, her steps paused and her violet eyes widened.

 It was evident she hadn't anticipated finding Azriel awake at this late hour. She took a moment to catch her breath, her gaze shifting from the Shadowsinger and then to her injured ankle. "Az" she almost stammered, "I didn't expect anyone to be up."

Azriel immediately closed his book and set it aside, his attention fully on her. Concern etched his features as he rushed to her. "What happened?" 

“I was skating and fell.” Valeria replied, wincing as she leaned against the armrest of the couch, her ankle clearly in pain.

“At this hour?” Azriel’s voice was a mix of worry and reproach. Valeria never skated alone and he was certain that Mallory was not allowed to be out this late in the camp.

"Yeah." Valeria replied, attempting to brush his concern off the same way she had the other day when he saw her bruise. But the pain in her eyes betrayed her stoicism. 

Azriel knelt beside her, his touch gentle as he examined her ankle. His shadows were also concerned. Some of them left his side and rushed to her, inspecting her for other injuries. They shuddered when they sensed more bruises on her arm.

Rage surged within him as he realized her ankle was broken, further fueled by the information from his shadows. He did not believe her story one bit. The gentleness that had initially marked his expression was replaced by a fierce determination as he looked up at her, his fingers loosening their grip on her ankle.

“Tell me who did this.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking.” 

“No one.” Valeria replied.

Azriel’s patience wore thin, a storm brewing in his eyes. Anger flashed, not directed at Valeria, but at the person who came to mind. “It was Damien, wasn’t it?”

The two had grown close in the past four weeks and three days. Azriel was acutely aware of the time as each day had been miserable for him. He despised Damien for the way he made her smile, the way he made her laugh.

It was a fierce envy– an ache that gnawed at Azriel. He yearned to be the one to bring such joy to Valeria. He always had a bad feeling about Damien, an unsettling intuition that prickled at his senses. If Damien so much as touched her…

“No!” Valeria's quick response cut through the room.

Azriel took her denial with a bitter twist in his heart, turning away with heavy steps as he made his way to the door. His thoughts were a tempest, a raging storm barely contained, fueled by the mere notion of someone daring to harm Valeria.

“Wait!” Valeria lunged forward, her fingers reaching for Azriel’s hand. She winced as it caused her further pain, steps faltering.

Azriel caught her with his ease, his hands at her sides. Her violet eyes were desperate, glistening with tears as she looked up at him. “I’ll tell you the truth but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even my mother or Rhys.”

She found herself hesitating for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground. She knew she couldn't hide it any longer from Azriel. She knew that despite his distance the past couple of weeks, he still cared for her well-being. 

He reached out for her face, forcing her to look back at him. His hazel eyes pleaded with her. “Tell me. Please.” His fingertips brushed her cheek.

"I've been sneaking off to train with someone," Valeria confessed, her words rushed and shoulders slumping as she was released from the weight of the secret. "I met Tanwyn and she introduced me to some of her friends. The valkyries have been teaching me how to fight, to defend myself.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise and concern, realization dawning on him. “Does Cassian know?”

“Not at first.” Valeria admitted. “I sought out the valkyries on my own. I had been training with them for three months when he caught me. I made him promise not to tell anyone.”

“Months?” Azriel echoed.

“It’s been a whole year now.” Valeria replied sheepishly.

Azriel did not know which of the two was more surprising: Valeria sneaking off to train with the valkyries for a year or Cassian keeping her secret well for months. He wanted to express his disapproval. It was not a good idea for her to be sneaking out, especially not in Windhaven. But he knew Valeria had made her choice.

"At first, the training exercises were simple and focused on maintaining balance and building endurance," Valeria said. "But Zeila, Tanwyn’s instructor, said I was ready to start sparring, so I did, and I was doing so well--" her eyes conveyed her joy, and Az couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride swell in his heart. There was also a sense of relief that her injuries were not a result of malice "--but today, I underestimated my sparring partner’s strength and lost my footing, and well, now my ankle is broken."

Azriel’s gaze softened. “Why keep this from Rhys?”

"Rhys worries about me," Valeria explained, her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. "He wouldn’t want me to get involved in dangerous activities. He would try to stop me. Besides, if I get caught by my father and he finds out that Rhys knew…”

Azriel sighed, torn between his loyalty to Rhysand and his desire to protect Valeria.

 "I'll keep your secret.” He finally decided. 

Valeria beamed up at him and she threw her arms around him. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Azriel’s lips curved into a smile as he returned her embrace, his shadows doing somersaults at the closeness. “Just please promise me to be careful. You can’t afford to get hurt like this.”

“Of course.”

Azriel pulled back to look at her again, his hand reaching to brush a loose hair away from her face and then resting on her cheek. He felt the warmth of her skin. His shadows danced around, echoing his fondness and protectiveness. “Now, let’s get you healed. I’m afraid I’m going to have to snap your ankle back into place for it to heal properly.”

"Okay," Valeria smiled back at him, her trust in him evident in her eyes as she allowed him to guide her to the couch.

As he attended to her, he was aware of their closeness and the soft looks they exchanged stirred a longing within Azriel. It was a longing he had buried deep, afraid of what it meant, but now it was impossible to deny. His shadows whispered that it was more than friendship, and his heart dared to agree.

Little did he know that Valeria mirrored his feelings. 

She watched him intently, his gentle touch sending both comfort and thrills through her. The play of emotions on his face was a symphony she yearned to decode.

She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming when he set her ankle back into place. The pain was sharp and sudden, making her gasp for breath. Azriel's eyes locked onto hers in that moment, his concern palpable.

Valeria didn’t know if it was the pain searing through her leg or the look he was giving her, but she felt dizzy. His gaze held a depth that stirred something deep within her, a connection she'd never felt so strongly before. It was a look that left her hopeful with a longing she couldn’t put into words.

The pain subsided, leaving behind a lingering ache, not just in her ankle, but also in her heart.

**

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