#and the whole 'if only you had just let people in and asked for help...' oKAY BUT IN THIS ARC HE DOES OKAY

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

��I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[robinsfilm]

OH, TAKE ME BACK (TO THE NIGHT WE MET)

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: the promise between the two of you never broke, not on that roof as children, not even now.

ANON ASKED: " Reader meets/is with Jay after he becomes Red Hood. After finding out that he used to be Robin, she recalls an interaction she had years ago with the Boy Wonder, unaware that they would paths again years later. " ;

WORD COUNT: 0.8k ;

NOTES: i like this one, i truly do, writing angst is a whole different experience. this is angst/comfort though, because i'm not evil (because i can't handle it). cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

THE NIGHT SKY OF GOTHAM HOLDS NO STARS TO COMFORT YOU. No stars to shed the soft and guiding light on you as you sit on the steep edge of the roof. Small feet dange from the brink as a heavy feeling settles in your heart, spreading like an infection, all-consuming in your body.

The tears falling from your eyes onto your cheeks go unnoticed by you, even as they drop onto your wobbly and scarred knees. They burn.

You wish the sky did not look somber and dim tonight. The cold air bites at any exposed flesh, even crawling its way into your clothes. Any semblance of comfort had been stripped from your hands; no amount of clawing and hanging on mattered. You were alone, on an abandoned roof, overlooking Gotham in all her melancholic glory.

Only the sounds of cars passing and the distant murmur of people filled your ears until a shuffle behind you caught your attention.

Turning your head, you tried to focus your gaze on the person—the kid behind you.

He seemed to be around your age, with messy hair, cheeks red, and chests rising. The red and green of his suit standing out next to the washed-out color of our surroundings. But the golden ‘R’ engraved above where his heart should be leaves no chance for you to mistake who the boy in front of you is.

The Robin.

Robin stands here with you. He opens his mouth to speak, although hesitantly, “You’re not going to jump, are you?”

You stare at him for a moment, taking every detail of him in: his jet black hair—a mess of ink on top of his head—his slightly tan skin; he has a hand out, reaching out to you; you can feel his eyes taking in your state.

“You’re not very good at this.” You mumble as you shuffle away from the edge, “I’m not going to jump, bird boy.”

He straightens up, his spine going stiff. You think you're imagining the pink hue on his cheeks.

He pouts, “It’s Robin, actually.”

He takes a single step closer to you, as if asking if it's okay. When you don't decline, he settles down next to you, his yellow cape grazing your hand.

“You should get that cleaned,” he motions to your scarred knees.

“I will.” You answer with pensiveness in your detached voice.

He considers something for a moment before moving next to you. He takes your hand in his. He feels warm, you note.

“C’mon. I’ll help you.” He speaks as he pulls you away from the edge, away from the somber and dim sky, the biting cold air.

He glances back at you. When he sees the unconvinced look in your eyes, his jaw tightens. “I swear.”

“You’re not going to fly away somewhere else, bird boy?”

“I’m staying here.” With you.

His stare doesn't leave your gaze, just as his hand doesn't waver in its hold of yours. You don't pull away; you don't push him away.

You hold onto his hand, letting him guide you instead of the stars of the dim sky.

Strange, you note; your heart doesn't feel so heavy anymore.

*****

The mellow air spreads through the shared apartment of you and Jason as it wraps you in its warm hold. The dim night sky is lit by only the moon and a single star following the crescent moving through the coal-black sky.

Jason settles his head on your chest, bringing his ear to your chest, feeling your heartbeat. It flows through his body as a solace, bringing him comfort.

When you recall the interaction with the young Robin, he could see the bittersweet memory in your wistful eyes. Your saudade voice rings out in his mind over and over again.

He remembers an icy cold night, so unlike this one in your arms. He remembers the biting air, the starless sky, how even the moon decided to abandon Gotham City that day, how it left its people alone.

How it left you on that roof.

He remembers approaching you, seeing the way you curled into yourself, the way you hid from the word that night.

He remembers taking your freezing hand in his, clutching it in his hold as a feeble attempt to warm them.

He remembers how unsure you looked and how you were already getting ready for the chance for him to let go and leave you alone on that roof. The hesitant shaking of your hand in his leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He remembers the moment of trust appearing—the moment when you let him tend to you. Two confused children on a cold Gotham night, looking for warmth wherever they found it.

Jason wraps his arms around you tighter, tangling his lips around yours as one. You return his hold, arms wrapping around his neck, burying yourself in the safety of him, wherefore the word ceases.

“I’m not leaving, not again.” He mumbles in the crook of your neck. You're thankful he can't see you right now.

The tears you shed for him, he already knows.

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[lexirosewrites]

Due to trauma Steve presented very late. And when he did present,it was in april of '85, as a duel dynamic. Alpha and Omega. It's extremely rare,and messes with his hormone levels in such a way he is constantly going into pre heat/rut, and feels sick nearly all the time. Not only is it debilitating, he's so nervous about anyone finding out, its very taboo rare thing to happen., and he's terrified his parents will find out he's not just an alpha and will kick him out. Only people who (know until he tells Robin on the mall bathroom floor) are his doctors and himself, He no longer sleeps with anyone until he can sort things out. During the summer of 85 his doctor has come up with a plan of action, they believe a bitching will solve his issues,cornering him into being an omega should help fix things a bit. They think the process may need to be stretched out so it'll stick. He'd still have his alpha cock and his hormones should balance out and he'd feel exponentially better, though he'd still have to take medication for the rest of his life to prevent himself from becoming duel again, and possibly help him from being infertile, because that's also up in the air much to Steve's dismay. Trouble is he doesn't know any alpha he could trust to help him, it's such a HUGE daunting favor and he wishes he already had a mate to help him. He would ask Nancy but the history and the fact that she's with Jonathan is definitely not a good idea…and Robin can't help with the sexual aspect of it of course, though being around her makes him feel a bit better,and calms him a bit, but she's not the alpha he needs.

After the events of season three Steve gets worse and Keith, who didn't want to hire Steve to begin with, keeps threatening to fire him, because he keeps needing to take off work just to to rest. So he starts bringing in doctors notes to get him off his back and then rumors finally start flying. His parents even hear about Steve hiding some big illness and are horrified when he tells him the true reason, and want him to become a full alpha instead, which isn't possible for him. An attempt could kill him while becoming a full omega, while still dangerous, is the more sensible decision. They make it clear to him that they will not support him in that. All the drama makes him feel even worse and it goes on for months, he's even confronted with the whole FRIENDS DON'T LIE spiel and tells them "I'll eventually be okay, don't worry." He cant really tell them what needs to be done but that's all he can say.

85 ends and Steve still does not have an alpha that can help him, until he meets and befriends Eddie,during the nightmare that is the events of season four. They become friends and are there for one another during the healing process after the bat attacks and even as they get better from those injuries, Steve just keeps getting sicker,and his body feels alight when Eddie is around. He wants to ask Eddie, but he also doesn't want this new special friendship to implode because it's such a HUGE ask, that's one hell of a favor to ask from a friend (and crush!!!). During a particularly bad round of illness Eddie swings by to check on Steve and Steve finally tells him whats gotten him so sick, And Eddie immediately, without hesitation, volunteers himself. Tells him "I'll do it Steve. You take care of everyone so well, let me take care of you. Let help you."

eddie wants to take care of him 🥺😭💕

[jpitha]

Hospitality

Meandering River and Q'ari sit in the canteen during midday break chatting and drinking some herbal tea. The Humans introduced both the drink and the meal. They call it 'Lunch' and while only the Humans seem to need the calories supplied by the meal, the break and the tea has proven to be a big hit among the other sapients...so long as they stay away from the poisonous teas. There are a lot of poisonous teas. Most everyone can have chamomile though.

The conversation meanders as they do, and eventually, they both come to talking about things they've noticed about the humans, one of the more recent additions to the Coalition. Everybody has their own cultural and biological quirks, but the conversations has been steering towards the humans lately. Everyone is a little too quick to point out that It's not that they're... weird, it's just the differences.

Q'ari puts her tea down with a clink on the small porcelain saucer. "Did you know that the Humans have a whole thing about being nice to visitors? It’s called 'hospitality' and they have almost entire religions about it!"

"What? They have religions about being nice to people you meet?" Meandering River said, as her feathers rustle, reflecting shimmering colors.

"Pretty much! My guess is that living on their world is so hard that they just felt obligated to help people who were passing through their village or peer group or whatever. The idea was that no matter who shows up - even their enemy - you give them a meal and a bath and let them have a nap and point them towards where they need to go if they're lost." Q'ari took another sip of tea. "You weren't even supposed to ask them questions about who they were or what they were doing!"

Meander was baffled. "But that makes no sense! What if the person was going to hurt you or your group? You had no way of knowing. Better to just let them pass by, and not interact."

"Yes, but the idea is the next time it was you traveling, you'd get help from others too." Nancy said from behind them.

Q'ari fur poofed out and Meander's feathers rippled in surprise and they both slid their chairs back to jump away before stopping themselves and sitting down, tea spilled everywhere. Predator/Prey reactions were deeply ingrained in Innari and Sefigans, and Humans were exceptionally good predators, even when they didn't mean to be.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nancy said, seeing their reaction. "I didn't mean to startle you! I just heard you talking about hospitality. People everywhere don't treat it like the religion it used to be, but it's still a common thing that people do. Here -" she said gesturing on her pad "Let me buy you both another Tea to say sorry for spilling yours. Chamomile, right? I feel so badly about startling you."

"I-It's all right, we know you didn't mean to." Meander says, smoothing their feathers automatically. We were just fascinated by the concept of hospitality. Please, join us." She gestures towards a chair.

Nancy sits down, and wipes away some of the spilled tea with a napkin. "Being polite to strangers is just something that's taught from an early age. It's not done everywhere, and it's not done the same way, but it's still done. It's... complicated though." Nancy said, as a serv platform came over with two fresh cups of tea. After it had left, she continued. "Codifying being nice to strangers and offering them a place to stay and food to eat is a way that people could travel in the time before money and hotels, but also, it could be used as a shield against forming real friendships."

"What do you mean by that? If you're inviting strangers into your house, wouldn't that help make friends?" Meander said, blowing on her tea to cool it slightly.

"Well, it could. But if the whole process is ritualized and formal, then you could use it to keep 'foreign' people at arms length. Sure, you'd invite them in, let them sleep, bathe, eat, but you'd send them on their way in the morning and that would be it. There would be no connection, no friendship. There is a long, long history of being nice without being friendly."

"It's all very confusing." Q'ari said. "There seems to be a lot of implied connections, and ritualized actions that on the surface appear kind, but may - or may not - be, depending on thousands of different things."

Nancy nodded. "Hey, things are never black and white. There is always nuance. I'm sure it's even the same way between you and your people. Q'ari, you're not originally from Sef, the homeworld, right?"

Q'ari's teddy bear shaped ears waggled. "That's right. I grew up on Llamanian, one of our middle tier colony worlds."

"And even though you are a Sefigan citizen, when you go to Sef sometimes you get treated like an outsider, right?"

"Well, I suppose a bit, yes." Q'ari's finely laquered claws slid out of their sheaths, just a centimeter. "They say that my gelbin isn't the same as on Sef. Er, that's a traditional vegetable dish." She adds, for their benefit.

Meander's crest slides up and then back down. "I've had your gelbin Q'ari, it's delicious! What could possibly be wrong?"

She shrugs, a decidedly human gesture. "The spices are wrong, they say. We have different versions due to the ecology and soil of Llamanian, even if I were to use the exact same spices in the exact same proportions, it wouldn't taste the same."

"It's not just humans. Everyone has things that are different, and people - no matter which sapient group they are - will use those differences against them sometimes." Nancy said, taking a sip of tea. "Knowing that it happens, and keeping an eye out for it, and having some understanding, can go a long way. But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't be nice to strangers when we meet them. After all, they might be the Gods in disguise!" Nancy's eyes sparkle when she said that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see a people called the Greeks believed that..."

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Slow-Burn Confession

Summary: a fic that I wrote for the request (see my previous post). In short, both Nanami and reader are IN LOVE but have no idea how to confess and/or act around each other. "A toothrotting fluff" (c) ehehehehehehhehehehe

Characters: Nanami Kento x reader

Word count: 3.3K

Nanami was absolutely fazed.

Throughout the years of working in Jujutsu Tech, the idea of falling in love with someone from the college has never crossed his mind. It’s not that he proclaimed celibacy and followed it: in fact, he had his fair share of hookups. But unlike Gojo or Geto, he never walked around bragging about them, so people naturally thought that romance was completely irrelevant for Nanami Kento.

He thought so too — until you appeared in his life.

He remembered that day all too well: how you stepped in front of everyone, sunlight caught in your hair, and announced that you are a transfer from Kyoto and will be working with Tokyo colleagues from now on. Of course, Gojo was the first to greet you. The white-haired idiot straight up approached you and hooked his arm around your shoulders casually. That’s when Nanami saw it: a small smirk of disapproval and a hint of irritation in your beautiful eyes. Without realizing it, Nanami sighed in relief: Gojo’s charms did not seem to work on you.

Wait, why did he even care?

Since that day, everything has changed for Nanami Kento. He has never been in love, but he became literally obsessed with you — and he was determined to figure his way out through the intricacies of love and to win your heart over.

The thing is… 

He had absolutely zero idea how to do it.

~~~

As you climbed the stairs of college, you were wrapping yourself in a huge knit scarf. The autumn was unusually cold so you required an extra layer of clothes when going to work. Busy untangling the scarf, you didn’t watch your step and bumped into a familiar tall figure.

Nanami’s perfume, an infatuating mix of wood, bergamot and vanilla, hugged you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second and savoring just how perfect this man smelled. And then you lifted your eyes and met the steady gaze of his brown eyes.

His expression was unreadable and even scary. His sharp features and piercing eyes always made you feel smaller and more vulnerable — though you were a Grade 1, thank you very much. Also, you were helplessly in love with this man, and that made the whole situation so much worse.

“Nanami? I doubt he even knows what’s love”, Shoko let out a hearty cigarette puff when you asked her once about Nanami.

“Whaaaaat? This guy only knows work and drinking. Sometimes, cooking. Romance is not for him, babes”, Gojo rolled his eyes and made a face.

“Nanami is a very reliable man but I doubt he is interested in finding a romantic partner”, Geto said sympathetically. 

That was it. Everyone confirmed that Nanami Kento was the worst possible choice to fall in love with. But you just couldn’t help it (and frankly, didn’t want to fix the situation). Every time you managed to steal a glance at him, something hot, unfamiliar, and fuzzy started tossing in your chest. You craved his touch or at least attention — but he was way too scary and unapproachable to even try. And the way he acted around you: it was more than obvious that he saw you just as another colleague. Nothing more than that.

As you met his gaze, you just stood on the stairs, your lips parted slightly and your eyes opened wide in surprise. His expression remained unreadable, but then he jerked his hand suddenly — and you both stared at a rather huge coffee stain on your beige coat.

“Oh”. That’s all you managed to say.

Nanami’s face grew bright red and his expression became somewhat scary. You involuntarily took a tiny step back, as he reached out his hand and tried to grab your coat.

“I… let me fix this”, he mumbled, looking everywhere but in your eyes.

“Do I annoy him so much that he can’t even look at me?”, that was your thought as you just stood there in one place, with his hand clinging onto your sleeve.

“Yo, Nanami! Undressing a girl right in the street? Way to go!”, Gojo’s voice from somewhere behind carried a healthy dose of mockery, and Nanami’s face grew even hotter.

“Shit, shit, shit!”, he thought frantically, still unable to let go your coat. He just wanted to help untangle your stupid huge scarf, but it seemed like his body started acting on its own in your presence. Now he was standing there like an idiot, got your coat dirty and worst of all, made a fool of himself in front of you (and apparently, Gojo).

“Let’s just get inside”, you proposed quietly, trying not to look at his fingers and trying not to imagine how his hand would look on your neck. Or on your waist. Or in your hair. Dammit.

He nodded way too quickly and finally let go of your coat. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning”, he said in a weird voice and started walking without looking at you.

You just sighed and followed him. Seemed like you’d spend another day dreaming about this man finally looking you in the eyes and making the move.

~~~

After the morning incident, Nanami just could. not. focus. He had no idea how to approach you now. He also could not stop thinking about how he almost touched the skin of your wrist when grabbing your coat. The thought sent shivers down his spine and caused pleasant and exciting tingling in his chest.

You just got him in a chokehold.

He spent a few hours deep in thought but did not come up with any plan. As he finally worked up the courage to come to you, he found out that you were already sent on a field trip with the students. And obviously, you took your stained coat with you.

Nanami groaned quietly, returning to his desk. 

Just how on Earth do people confess to each other?!

~~~

When you got to work the next day, you saw a box on your table. The box looked quite presentable: in delicate pastel colors and with simple yet pleasing patterns. There was also something atop of the box: some money and a note that said “for the cleaning”. No signature or something else: just dry information. How Nanami-like.

You were more intrigued by the box though. After quickly shoving the money in the pocket, you opened the cover and an overwhelming and warm smell of cookies filled the room.

There was a whole assortment: chocolate, lemon, and even coffee cookies. Each one of them looked perfect, surely straight out of an expensive bakery.

“Woah, cookies? Who’d get you these?”, Gojo appeared out of nowhere, trying to reach for the box. You immediately closed the cover shut, preventing the heist attempt.

“I don’t know”, you lied, knowing damn well Kento got these for you. “But I need to find out what bakery they are from. I haven’t seen any sweet looking so ridiculously good”.

Nanami who just happened to pass your desk, perked his ears at your words immediately. You caught his gaze and smiled warmly, “Um, thanks for… everything. Where did you get these cookies from? I might become a regular customer”.

He opened his mouth and shut it immediately. “Then you’ll have to move in with me”, were the words he wanted to say but never in his life he’d admit that he spent the whole night backing these cookies for you. He’d also never admit that he imagined feeding you with a cookie, collecting crumbs from your lips with his own lips and covering your mouth in a sweet deep kiss while leaning you onto his kitchen counter…

“Shit!”

Kento shook his head in irritation and glared at you, involuntarily allowing you to catch this slight hint of his annoyance. He didn’t think you’d take it personally: he was mad at himself for being so sappy around you. But you couldn’t have known it, obviously. So instead of admitting his feelings, he just mumbled something and paced away, his usual composure and confidence radiating while his head was a wild mess of emotions and thoughts. 

And while you watched him go, your heart aching in an unusual manner, Gojo managed to steal a cookie and laughed diabolically, shoving the whole stuff in his mouth.

“Dat stuff’s good”, he mumbled. “Tastes like homemade ones”.

“Homemade? Nah, can’t be true. Kento would never…”, you thought, wishing desperately for these cookies to really be homemade ones. 

With a sigh, you took one and tasted it. As expected, it was out of this world.

Just like damned Nanami Kento.

~~~

Since then, you haven’t seen him around for almost a week. While your eyes were desperately searching for him in the crowd, Kento was nowhere to be found. Finally, you went straight up to Shoko who never made fun of you and was as supportive as possible for a person who spent a couple of years with Gojo and Geto.

“Oh, Kento is home, recovering from an injury after the mission. No biggie”, Shoko just casually dropped, 

An injury, huh?

“It’s now or never”, you said to yourself while taking a taxi after work and carrying a box of sweets in your lap. “After all, I can visit a colleague and check up on him. Right?”

The taxi driver caught your gaze in the rear mirror and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. Your cheeks grew hot and you looked in the window, trying to focus on anything but the thoughts in your head.

~~~

The sound of the doorbell was unexpected, to say at least. Nanami heard it while lying in bed, reading a book and trying to distract himself from the annoying pain in his shoulder. The wound hurt like hell for the first couple days but it got much better. Still, Shoko insisted he’d stay at home and even Yaga chimed in, basically forcing Nanami to take a few more days off.

When hearing the doorbell, he raised a brow in surprise and reluctantly got out of bed. At first, he thought of putting on something more presentable than a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue shirt, but honestly, the illness got the best of him and he decided he didn’t really care. It was probably a delivery he forgot about, so his home clothing was more than enough to deal with another overly enthusiastic teenager with a pizza box.

The door swung open and he froze in place.

“You?!”

As he opened the door and you met his direct gaze, you felt pinned to the ground. The sight of Nanami in his sweatpants and loose shirt stirred something primal and uncontrollable in you. You gulped loudly and felt your face growing insanely hot.

“I erm… I wanted to check up on you..”

As you spoke, you took an awkward step forward and obviously stumbled. He instinctively caught you, his strong arms wrapping around you and instantly flaring up a wildfire in his chest. He was about to say something…. but then he looked down.

“Oh”.

A box of sweets that you’ve been holding was smashed between you two, cream and jam all over his shirt and your much-suffering coat. Your face grew bright red and you tried to pull away but his hands were holding you in one place firmly, not letting you move even an inch. Only after a few moments, he lifted one hand slowly, delicately putting his fingers on your cheek and wiping cream off it. Holding your gaze, he put his fingers to his lips and licked the cream carefully, a tiny smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Vanilla, huh, Good choice”, he said expertly, still holding you.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked in a tiny voice, kind of traumatized by your close proximity. His body was so insanely hot in all senses and the way his was holding you… 

You shifted a bit and suddenly felt it. Your eyes darted a glance below and he immediately released you, taking a step back.

“Much better now, thanks”, he couched, quickly turning around and gesturing for you to come in. “Did you come for anything specific or?...”

You instantly scolded yourself for the visit. Of course he wouldnt’ have expected you: he probably didn’t even think of you.

“I just wanted to check on you”, you mumbled in a weak voice, pulling away slowly. “Shoko told me you were injured”.

“It’s nothing”, he echoed, his eyes basically glued to you. “Wanna come in?”

Even if the Earth stopped spinning in space you’d be less surprised. “Come in like… in your house?”

In his head, Nanami groaned. Why did he even think you’d like to come in? You probably just stopped by with this stupid box. It was probably Shoko’s idea after all. Like he had any chance for your attention…

“If you don’t want to, it’s…”

“No, I want”, you stepped in confidently, leaving the remains of sweets on the ground in front of the porch (“will throw it away on my way back”).

Nanami’s brows raised in a mix of surprise and relief. You wanted to come in, that was good. Meaning his presence may even be pleasant for you. That’a s good start, right?

As you stepped in, you looked around, studying his place. As expected, it was neat yet surprisingly cozy. All his belongings basically radiated Nanami’s aura of peace and comfort. You spotted hell lots of books, a few candles here and there, and several intricate works of art on the walls. Overall, it felt oddly like… home.

Behind your back, Nanami coughed. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please”, you turned around, and he couldn’t help but flicker in awe. You looked so natural in his apartment. As if you lived here with him for a few years to say at least. He desperately wanted to come close to you and kiss you but instead, turned and headed for the kitchen, cursing himself for looking so unpresentable.

As you watched him go, you felt your face going red again. Kento’s loose shirt and sweatpants showed off his perfect physique of a damn Greek God. And if before that evening you were mostly interested in him as a person, now you simply felt like a feral monster who hadn’t seen a man in forever. You whimpered quietly and followed him to the kitchen, having absolutely no idea what to do or how to act.

From his part, Nanami also had absolutely fucking no idea what to do next. The very thought of you being in his house this late at night — that was something Kento had never expected. Yet, here you were, following him to his kitchen and looking too damn cute with your hair fuzzy from the wind outside and with this hint of pink on your cheeks. More than everything he’d love to pull you close and never let go but went to the coffee machine instead. After all, he promised you some.

“I like your place”, you finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s very… cozy”. 

He hummed in agreement, busy with the coffee and the cups. “Thanks. It took me quite some time to arrange everything to my liking, sugar”.

You blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

Kento looked back at you, his face going red. He picked up a sugar bowl from the counter and repeated, “Would you like some sugar?”

“Oh my god, I’m so dumb”, you muttered. “Two, please”.

He pretended not to hear what you just said but noticed the way you reacted to his words.

“Could it be?...”

All events and the tension of the past few months since you met just exploded in his brain, pushing him to the limit of self-control. At that very point, Nanami Kento gave in to the reckless abandon and decided to test the waters. 

“Fuck it”.

He handed you the coffee cup, his fingers obviously brushing against yours. As you savored this faint touch, you looked up and met his direct and piercing gaze. It wasn’t the gaze that you were used to see. It was something brand new. Something both alluring and frightening. Something that made your knees weak.

Kento took a small step towards you, his mind going blank. The world around suddenly stopped existing and he didn’t give a shit about anything right now. His eyes were locked on your face, and he took another small step forward. And another.

As he approached, you just stood frozen in one place, completely dumbfounded. Nanami Kento, the infamous stoic sorcerer with no love life (according to the colleagues), was coming up to you in his damned grey sweatpants, looking like he was about to devour you whole. You wanted to say something, ask him what’s going on or simply object against such straightforwardness — and then you felt the tight grip of his hand in your hair as he pulled you close till your lips crashed in his.

With one hand locked on your hair, his other hand gripped your waist, moulding your body into his. He kissed you so hungrily as if he had been hiding that starvation for too long and now, finally, he had you in his arms. Your hands shot up, one arm around his neck and the other tangled securely in his blonde locks. As his tongue was exploring your mouth deeply and hungrily, you let out a soft gasp, his name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

“Kento…”

He pulled back a bit, lips swollen and eyes glowing with a dangerous gleam.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You gulped nervously and finally asked the question that’s been haunting you for all this time.

“So can I… assume you like me too?’’

You expected anything, honestly. That he’d frown and say something like “it’s too early to discuss things like that”. Or that he’d say he was interested in sex only. 

Instead, Nanami laughed.

He laughed openly, his eyes now full of weird happiness. You were completely taken aback by his reaction, but he didn’t give you an opportunity to pull away. Keeping you in one place with his arms, he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, grinning against your skin.

“I don’t like you. I love you, sweetheart”, he muttered in rasped voice. “I love you so fucking much, you have no idea”.

And that was it. His words broke through the dam and you giggled too, following his laughter. It was the laugh of relief, of finally letting go of all the tension and uncertainty between you two. Still laughing softly, he scooped you up and headed for his bedroom in long confident stride, shaking his head in amusement.

“Kento”, you called him quietly, still not quite believing it was happening and resting your head against his chest as he walked.

“Hmmm?”, he looked down on you, a smile curving his lips.

“Can you… put a tie on?”

He let out a bark of laughter and nodded, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Your wish is my command, love. But be prepared that this tie is gonna move from my neck to your pretty wrists in no time”.

Nanami looked you in the eyes, his gaze full of adoration and love. And that was the moment you knew.

“I’m stuck with you, huh?”, you asked softly with a smile.

“Forever, sweetheart”, he confifmed, kissing your hair and laying you on the bed gently. “Now gimme a second to put on the damn tie and I’m all yours”.

You giggled happily at his words, watching him rummaging the closet. 

Everything was just perfect.

And in about one minute after the tie was found, perfect became even better. Side note: you never knew you could be that loud.

[toji-sweetheart]

Toji and Shiu with 5?

18+ only content - mdni

prompt list

tags: fem reader + explicit smut

Music thumped through the floor as you walked through the crowd, pushing against people to take the tray of drinks to tables and private rooms. It's already been a tough shift, your feet ached from the heels.

It also didn't help that a coworker called in sick even though you were pretty sure she was lying but it meant more tips to help with paying the bills and everything else, plus you wanted to go on a vacation.

Your mind drifted to Toji and Shiu, your boyfriends who insisted on you not having to pay for anything but accepted the cash you still slipped in their wallets and paid for something else anyway.

Time was your enemy at the moment, between work and catching up on sleep you hardly got to see them and it felt like you never had enough hours in the day to hang out or see them anymore.

"Room four requested you!" The bartender told you when you came back to the bar, your stomach twisted wondering if it was regular clients that came to enjoy the club scene or if it was someone new.

With a nod, you took the tray with one whiskey and headed to the back knocking on the golden four before pushing the door open and stepping into the dim room, the walls lined with heavily plush curtains with crushed velvet couches facing each other.

When you saw who it was you almost dropped the tray. Toji and Shiu sat on the couch side by side with matching smiles seeing you stunned to see them leaning back with their legs spread apart as they asked, with a smirk, "Are you just going to stare, sweetheart?"

They were tired of not seeing you too.

Kicking the door shut with a soft click you turned the lock it before coming in further putting the tray on the glass coffee table. "I wasn't expecting two very sexy men." You teased and wedged yourself between them fisting Shiu's tie to tug him closer and kiss him deeply.

Your tongue parted his lips for a moment before pulling away to grip Toji's shirt kissing him the same. "Lucky for us we were expecting a very sexy waitress." Toji teased, his hands moving to your waist to pull you on his lap with ease, he wanted to feel you against him.

Shiu moved over to rest his hands on your thighs, rubbing his palms up and down the sheer tights before moving further down to slip your shoes off and massage the arch of your foot. "Indeed you are lucky."

Toji let his hands glide up and down your sides before brushing the side of your breast making you shiver. "Couldn't stand not seeing you anymore sweetheart, we missed you." He whispered in your ear.

Their touches and words made you melt. "I missed you two so much, I have to say this is the best surprise I could ever receive." You murmured turning your head to kiss Toji while Shiu spread your legs.

His fingers trailed up your thighs reaching the apex between them, he brushed against your cunt making you quiver as he kept teasing you with his head under your skirt. "I think Shiu missed your pussy the most though." Toji teased causing the other man to pull away.

"I won't lie, I do miss it but I miss being in your presence more than anything," Shiu told you with a smile as he rested his chin on your knee watching as you leaned forward to kiss him softly.

It didn't take long for Shiu to end up where he was, his tongue pressed flat against the pantyhose before he ripped a hole causing you to gasp and pout. "I have to get new ones!" You cried out.

Toji watched him hike your skirt higher and higher making it easier for him to see you under the lightening which didn't even cover the whole room making the whole thing hotter. Like they were strangers.

His hands worked the buttons of your shirt until it was wide open to reveal your lace bra, Toji cupped them in his large palms before pulling the cups down to pinch and tweak your nipples.

There was no where to go, Toji had you pinned in his lap and Shiu held your hips as he made out with your pussy now with slow soft strokes of his tongue over your clit making you croon and moan.

Shiu was a sucker for when you tugged on his hair silently begging and demanding more as your hips rolled, fucking his mouth while you struggled to kiss Toji as his hands kept busy on your tits.

They both picked you apart, teasing with the lightest touches before following through with what you wanted the most only to keep you on edge again. "We know you've been having a tough night at work, we wanted to make it better." Toji whispered against your lips.

You gasped and clung to him, grateful that they were here. "I'm so close!" Shiu knew it with the way your cunt squeezed his fingers, your slick dripping down onto Toji's lap, a reminder of what happened.

"I know, shh, just let go, pretty girl." Toji cooed brushing his hand over your hair, petting you gently as you succumbed to a toe-curling orgasm that they helped you ride out with soothing touches.

You lay panting in Toji's lap still feeling boneless and tired. "How am I supposed to go back to work now?" You asked with glassy eyes.

Shiu sat up and fixed your skirt before buttoning up your shirt. "We got that handled, why don't you lay here for a moment and I'll go get the car for us?" He suggested standing up to bend over and kiss you.

"You two are something else, thank you though." Both men shared a knowing glance before Shiu left the room still able to taste you.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[entiqua]

I love your artstyle!! Do you have any tips for drawing?

thank you so much! i'm really happy you like it!!💗 as for tips, what i would say would change drastically depending on what kind you're looking for, but some very general ones:

draw what you love and want to see most, regardless of whether anyone else wants to see it. if you don't enjoy what you're drawing it'll never come out as good or genuine as something your whole heart and soul is in. i mean you'd think this would be a no-brainer but sometimes i've had to sit back and ask myself 'if no one was ever going to see this except me, would i actually spend time drawing this?' and i was surprised by the answer

that said, it is also completely valid if your motivation for drawing is to draw for other people! there have been plenty of times where i was too artblocked to draw my own ideas but was still able to draw commissions or gifts and enjoyed it simply because making other people happy with my art makes me happy.

don't get too caught up in having a consistent art style. in my experience this 1000% hinders you

having your sense of anatomy degrade over time without you noticing because you keep drawing the same types of characters is a very real thing! if this is a concern to you be sure to draw a variety

follow a billion artists that you like the art of and you will have endless inspiration injected directly into your brain every time you open social media

my favourite practical tip for those who draw at a desk: keep a small mirror next to you at all times. absolute game changer for quickly referencing hands

if you're drawing digitally, make the canvas huge! in my experience this lets you draw messier/faster and you can't tell at all when you zoom out. if you tend to get stuck spending unnecessary amounts of time micromanaging pixels (me💀) keep it zoomed out while drawing

related to the above point, messy drawings can have far more expressiveness in them than neat and polished drawings. nowadays i never do lineart and go straight from 'barebones stickman pose' to 'varying-levels-of-coherent sketch' and use that as my lineart. sweet freedom from the sketch-looks-better-than-the-lineart phenomenon

if your goal is to improve, then you really do have to scrutinize your art, figure out what you're not satisfied with, and commit the time to focusing on it. 'practice makes perfect' kinda rubs me the wrong way because of how much i've seen it interpreted as 'just draw everyday and you'll magically improve' but genuinely it won't get you very far if you don't actively think hard about what you're trying to improve and take the steps to do it. is this a hot take idk. also hand in hand with this, not every artist is trying to improve and you shouldn't feel bad for this! maybe you just wanna make a little headshot doodle of your fave blorbo and that's your only drawing goal ever. awesome. maybe you know your art has flaws but it's passable enough to convey what you want and you're perfectly satisfied with that. (this is the stage i'm usually at). also awesome!

don't hesitate to draw something because you think it's out of your skill level. the worst that can happen if you draw it is that it comes out terribly but you learned something and can always redraw it better in the future. the worst that WILL happen if you don't draw it is that you'll never draw it. and then it will sit in the back of your brain haunting you for years. it's not like i'm speaking from experience or anything aha

look up 'hand stretches for artists' and do them if you draw a lot unless you wish to summon the wrath of the carpal tunnel demons

of course, these may not necessarily work for you, and most importantly(!) these are coming from the perspective of someone who is primarily a hobbyist. some of this won't be practical for people who need to build an audience, maintain a consistent style for work, etc. these are just things that have personally helped me over many years of drawing :)

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 1/32 (yeah I know, right?)

Warnings: angst if you squint, name calling, suggestive wording

I wrote this a while ago, if you think I need to add anything else for this one, lmk!

Word count: 1,265

"What the hell are you doing on my ice, George? The hockey team already released the team list, we can't accept anyone else. Either way, we don't like drama."

"Actually, I'm not on the ice," Regina gives you a dirty look, pointing at the fact that she is right outside the ice, not on it, "and ew, this does not sound appealing. You look like a fridge wearing a knockoff dollar-store sports jersey. This also looks a bit rough." she makes a gesture at your outfit, and size.

Well, she was right. The school had a small budget for the women's team, and you tower over her. Your shoulder pads add to the size, you really are built like a fridge at the moment.

"Then what are you here for? To call me another slur?" You take your helmet off and lean your head down on your stick, smirking, "here for a good time?"

Regina fake gags, "Absolutely no. Gross. Quit speaking," she gives another dirty look, "I saw the poster that you needed a manager for the team. I can't play any sports and everything is so fucking lame. I can at least see fights here." She shrugs

"And why do you of all people want to be involved in anything  that doesn't involve pretty pink glitter and being a massive bitch?" Putting emphasis in the 'B' in bitch, you poke Regina with your stick.

"If I didn't have to I wouldn't," she shoves the stick off of her shoulder, "but my therapist is making me. I can't let last year consume me, and I have to be helpful or whatever."

You look at the clock and put your helmet back on then glide across the ground, your skates leaving gashes in the ice. Regina stands by the opening into the rink, dumbfounded that someone had just walked away from her. The clock makes a loud buzzing noise and pucks fly into the net and scatter the ice around it.

"Well, George, you gotta work up the food chain here," you get a smug look on your face, "Practice is over! We don't have to get the pucks tonight. Our lovely new manager Miss Regina George will get it for us. Won't you?" you skate up to the blonde, whose eyes sit wide.

The team leaves to the locker room before leaving the building as Regina nods. She could not believe that someone had actually spoken to her like that. You ask her shoe size, go to the locker room, and come out with a pair of skates. They are blue and gold, and old. Like, really old looking. The blade is sharp but the leather is worn and creased. You intentionally grabbed the oldest pair that would fit her. Queen Bee George wouldn't own the ice like she did the rest of the school. You drop the skates in front of Regina.

"You expect me to know how the hell to put these on?"

"Are you ACTUALLY kidding me right now George?" You don't get an answer, so you sit down in front of Regina, "wow you aren't. I will do this one time, and one time only." You hold up a one on your hand and Regina nods.

You lace the skates while Regina complains about how tight they are, then you describe why they had to be so tight, she finds some way to complain about your reasoning too. You lead her on to the ice, she isn't an awful skater, although she falls once. You teach her how to collect the pucks by scooting the net around the ice, then take her to the locker room.

"I really need to get out of these clothes, but as the captain it's my job to tell you what your jobs are. So I hope you don't mind," You start taking off your jersey, "so basically you will make sure the locker room and ice stays clean. You'll scrape the ice, make sure it's clean and pretty, get our stuff on the bus for away games, basic shit." you peel the outer layers of your gear off.

"So I don't have to drive the zimbabwe or whatever?" Regina asks, relief washing over her as she looks at you.

"No you will not be driving a whole ass country, honey," You look dumbfounded, "The custodial staff or our coach are the only ones who operate the ZAMBONI. And quit looking. I can't tell if you're jealous or you want me." You smirk over at Regina as she quickly rotates her head away from your direction.

You finish changing, she glances over at you one more time while your back muscles flex, pulling a shirt over your head. You throw on a pair of faded jeans and a red flannel. You pull your phone out and hand it to Regina on the contacts page.

"This by no means is asking you to ever speak to me outside of anything hockey related, or even hockey related, actually. Never text me," you smile and take the phone back from Regina, "this is just so I can add you to the team group chat."

Regina is left speechless, she has never ever been disrespected like that.

"You literally just met me, what the fuck is your problem? I will not let my year be ruined by your rude ass." Regina scoffs.

"My problem, Regina, is that my name was in that little book of yours. Right next to the words 'body count higher than points scored' and 'hockey lez'," you sit and stare at Regina, "I do not want to talk to you outside of this sport, and I will talk to you as little as I can here. I appreciate that you are getting better and working on your behavior after last years events, but this does not change the fact that words are mean. It didn't hurt, but I don't make company with assholes."

You walk out to your car, a 2015 Subaru Forester. You don't notice Regina's highly recognizable Jeep in the parking lot, and see her walk out of the building. She keeps walking past the parking lot, sprinkles of rain splattering the ground around her. You are an asshole, but not that big of one. You speed out of the lot and pull up next to Regina, who is walking down the side walk with her hot pink hood over her head, and roll your window down.

"Why are you walking? It's raining and you have a nice Jeep. This is ridiculous George." You shout.

"I still don't trust myself driving alone after the accident in case my back locks up, I like the rain, I'm fine." Regina keeps her head forward.

"Are you sure? As captain it is my obligation to make sure everyone get's home safe."

"Oh my God, you have already said you hate me, would you MOVE ON you fucking lesbo." Regina yells.

"Great choice of words when you are trying to better yourself Regina." You clench your jaw, roll your window up, and speed off.

This was going to be one great year, you can just feel it.

[jealousmartini]

hi! i saw ur post where u mention age change with loa and could u talk more about that? cause i just turned 20, but i wanna be 17 again just so i can experience teenage things (i had depression and extreme social anxiety my whole teenagehood). i wanna feel young and do things right, apply everything i know now to this time in my life cause i can't help but feeling so old speacially since i have zero "firsts", like i'm 20 and no first crush or first kiss (ik it's not the end of the world, but i want back the expirences i was stolen from). i don't wanna over-explain myself nor trauma dump on u, but basically i just wanna start over yk? i know nothing is impossible to loa, truly know, but this one wish makss me insecure cause that will mean i was born in 2007 instead of 2004 and my old classmates werent really my classmates which is okay cause i never liked them but instead i had different ones that i don't know? i don't know if i'm making sense here, sorry to be asking u these things but ur the only person i've seen talking about age change so i'll be very thankful to anything u have to say to me. hope u have a good day :)

This ask unironically made me frown, like so hard, knowing that manifesters like you have to ask if starting over is okay because of the heavy misrepresentation and misunderstanding of manifesters and shifters who age change.

My love, OF COURSE you can. I cannot believe we have come to the point, on the interent as a whole, that people feel that they need to ask permission on what to do with THEIR LIVES, because the all high and mighty LOA police feel like they have the right to dictate what others should and shouldn't do with their lives.

And God forbid you don't obey them because then they'll throw every derogatory name, they'll diagnose you with every mental illness they want to insult you with (that they don't even understand), they'll assume that utmost worst about you, and take to their side of the community to shame you infront of them all. It's genuinely appalling.

Which is why I finally reminded myself a couple years ago that these people are not my mum. I have free will to do what I want with MY LIFE and whatever they say are nothing more than opinions that I can literally choose to listen to or to ignore. I refuse to fall into the trap of giving power, MY power away to outsiders and let them control me because real talk now, what are they actually going to do? At the end of the day they can cry, shout, rip their hair out on camera an tell me how insne I am for not having the same views as them, but none of that's stopping me from sleeping with their mum AND dad in another reality

Long story short, my answer is yes, you can start over and change the year you were born hun. You can do whatever you want because this is your call. Do what YOU want, not whatever the LOA police deems acceptable by their beliefs

[daughter-of-sapph0]

what do you gain from sending cruel anons? satisfaction? approval from others? does someone pay you to do it? I never understood why you freaks do that bullshit. it's useless anyway.

I'm not publishing your anonymous ask. no one deserves to look at that slop.

it doesn't even hurt me. nothing you say to me can be worse than the pain I've already felt. your words mean nothing to me. you can tell me to kill myself all you want. you'll never be louder than the voice in my head who almost convinced me to do it.

I've already reached my lowest point in my life. I've gotten better. I love myself too much to let you take that away from me.

you, on the other hand, are sitting alone in your room and copypasting the same generic message to random trans people you see online, because your life has literally no value, because you will never do anything of note, because you're unworthy of any sort of affection from others, and you will die alone, unhappy, unfulfilled, unaccomplished, and your last dying wish as you sit on your death bed surrounded by no one is that you could have spent more time being a cruel heartless bigoted irredeemable cunt to people online.

meanwhile I'll be living my best life. I'll forget about your entire existence later this afternoon. I'll continue to spend time with the people I love, and help spread positivity to people who need it. I will outlast you. I'll live my life to the fullest while you rot in your isolation. I will outlive you. my legacy will continue after I'm gone while people will try and pretend that your ilk never existed. I will outlove you. I will be a reminder that your negativity and hatred is but a momentary stain on existence that will be washed away by unconditional love and support.

I'm no longer speaking to that anonymous asker. instead I address this to my followers, as well as anyone else who may see this post: do not answer anon hate ever. it's not worth it. those people do not care about your response, and only receive gratification from seeing you suffer.

I know a lot of you weren't online in ye olden days. but back then, we had rules for the internet. and one of them is to never feed the trolls. feeding the trolls mean they win. somewhere along the line some of them managed to convince people that blocking the trolls means they win. that's not true. blocking means you win because you'll never have to see their disgusting horrendous comments again. the block button is your best friend. use it.

if you get anon hate, delete it. block the sender (which I'm pretty sure now ip blocks whoever sent the ask), and if it continues, turn of anons, or even turn off asks in general. do not let them hurt you. do not engage. do not respond. do not answer them. they aren't looking for a debate. and you won't change their mind. answering their ask just exposes their slop to all your followers. and none of them want to see that shit.

remember that for every hateful anon message you get, there are 100 people who love you unconditionally and care about you. do not let the loud hateful minority win.

maybe what I'm doing counts as feeding the troll. I'm not directly answering their ask, but I'm still getting involved. but fuck it. I'm turning their hate into positivity. I'm using this as a moment to spread awareness to others.

if you're a person on the internet who's received hateful messages, especially if you're trans, I promise you that you're not alone. ignore them. find people who care about you and love you. I promise that the small annoying obnoxious voice does not represent the opinions of society as a whole. I promise that nothing they say is true. I promise that you are loved. unconditionally. forever. simply because you are you.

[thechaoticarchivist]

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice | Levi Ackerman X Reader

→ Crossposted on A03 ←

Word Count: 2,250

Pairing: Levi Ackerman X gn!Reader

Content Warnings: None - Just fluff; no Y/N used, 'they' pronouns for reader, modern AU

Summary: Levi Ackerman could never understand the obsession with pumpkin spice, but it did always seem to make you happy, so he tolerated it.

Author’s Note: I really have to give thanks to @amywritesthings, because this whole story idea appeared because of some silly comments due to this post over who would hate pumpkin spice season the most.

It always seemed that when school supplies started flooding the stores, there became a weird, immediate need for people to have autumn everything, and that tended to irritate a specific tea shop owner to no end. 

Starting as early as August most years, Levi found himself cutting off questions about cinnamon and pumpkin flavored drinks with a curt ‘no’. He tolerated the question better from new customers, but it was the regulars asking that really set his teeth on edge. 

Specifically - there was a bespeckled brunette scientist that made an appearance every afternoon with their partner for a Masala Chai Black tea before the two of them headed off to their graveyard shift doing who knows what. The scientist would order their usual drink, and then immediately follow up by asking obnoxiously when the new fall flavors were dropping, like they hadn’t been coming to the tea shop for years. 

They then always cackled wildly at Levi’s annoyed expression, and their partner usually left a larger tip in apology.  

For the life of him, he could not figure out the obsession behind this time of year. It wasn’t that the drinks were bad (although they were arguably not his favorite), but it was the fact that when the summer seemed to wane, this particular flavor arrived and locked everyone in a chokehold, suffocating and tainting all flavors of drink, food, and candle with it’s scent until peppermint seemed sweep in to do the same in the winter. 

At least Levi could tolerate the smell of peppermint.

August and September slipped away one quiet day at a time. As the weather turned chilly and the leaves switched into their reds and golds, the questions of ‘pumpkin spice’ and ‘cinnamon’ only increased, and so did the black-haired manager’s daily headache. 

He couldn’t exactly deny the slight increase of profits they saw between now and Valentine’s Day (the third of the weird drink obsessions he dealt with every year, chocolate flavors closely following pumpkin spice and peppermint),  but he didn’t see the joy in the season or the smell as others did. It was just another time of year. One that darkened the skies earlier and made people move a little quicker when they were out and about. 

Truthfully, the start of the ‘Bers’ (as you called it, always laughing at your own pun,) usually sent Levi more into solitude than it did any other time of the year. He spent the holidays with his mother and uncle, of course, but it was also a reminder to him that just another year had passed and what truly had he to show for it?

He had to admit that it had grown on him recently, though. Ever since you had made room for yourself in some of the space in his grumpy heart around this time last year. 

“Kirstein, go flip the sign, will you?”

The two-tone haired barista nodded with a yawn, making his way to the front, one hand scratching his hair. The younger man let out a groan at the sight of the line already outside. He clicked his tongue, a habit he had picked up from the owner. “Do you think they’re all here for that new pie flavor already?”

“It’s not going to be available until Monday, so they can wait.” 

“Maybe we should tell your partner to cool it on the posts on Instagram for a bit?” Jean’s blood turned cold with the look coming from the gray eyes behind the counter. He mumbled a quick apology. 

“They’re work on our social media has significantly helped retain our customer base. They know what they are doing.”

“Yeah, but maybe they could tone it down with the fall..?” Another glare sent the barista blushing, and he turned to fiddle with the door lock and the sign as he was asked. 

The crowd of morning commuters slipped quickly into the cafe and out of the chilled morning air, filling up the space with body heat and quiet conversation. Two lines formed, led by regulars who had been coming here often enough that Levi had their teas already brewing as the doors opened. He found himself strangely thankful for them, as they always seemed to tame the initial chaos of opening. 

A tall, blonde history teacher who consistently ordered a matcha before he headed off to a room full of rambunctious teenagers for the day. A lively redhead that was a secretary for some larger corporation and always seemed to already have too much energy before she received her Gyokuro green tea. A tired looking doctor who preferred the typical English breakfast black tea to start his day before his long shift.

But once those few consistencies in the shop’s morning routine passed through and back out into the crisp air to their next location, the headache began. 

Because it didn't matter that the advertisement you made said “NEW APPLE CINNAMON PIE - SEPT 23!”, or that you had decorated the chalkboard menu behind the counter in a similar fashion  with “SEPTEMBER 23” written under it, people kept asking. 

You had chastised Levi and Jean both before, that their response of ‘Can’t you read?’ was not an appropriate answer to the question, and instead to politely just remind them which day it would be coming, but it always seemed to become harder and come out a little harsher from both men as the day wore on. 

Levi’s patience would always run thin by early afternoon when the 50th ‘Will you be having any pumpkin spice drinks soon?’ was asked, especially when, in his opinion, there were much better choices on the menu.

This particular Friday, you had told him that you were getting off early from your own job and would be down to decorate the shop in the afternoon for the launch of the fall flavors coming on Monday. When you had asked him if he had any seasonal decorations, he had pointed you in the direction of the supply closet, but you had become sourly displeased at the little amount that he had in there. 

Levi almost rolled his eyes when you appeared with a large box in tow, one that Jean was happy to take from your arms and place on a table. He then immediately went to make your favorite drink, receiving an eye roll from a shopkeeper who was absolutely in no way jealous of the younger man’s attempts to befriend you. None at all. 

You went into your normal routine once you were inside, stepping behind the counter to give Levi a quick peck on the cheek and a  “Hi, ‘Vi,”, as that was the most amount of affection he allowed while working, and thanking Jean for the steaming travel cup of Roobios Chai.

You then started your rounds, greeting the evening regulars (a young boy and girl who always came to study for a few hours after school, an older bald man that always seemed on edge about the latest news of the city, and a quiet dark haired lad who always had a book, but eyes that seemed to never leave the barista)  and checking in on their personal lives - Levi had no idea how you were able to remember such things, but people always seemed happy that you did. 

Once finished with checking in with those you knew and introducing yourself to those who you didn’t, you finished up your drink, tossed the cup, and went to the back to pull out a ladder from the storage closet.  Next, you began the process of unpacking the box of decorations you had lugged all the way down here, smiling happily at each thing you pulled out and set on the table. Garland leaves, table centerpieces, and cute knick knacks for the counter. It was impressive you were able to fit as much as you did inside. 

You spread things throughout the store, a rough map of where you wanted everything, and the customers happily moving around to give you space. They chatted with you about their excitement of things, always willing to lend a hand if needed. 

By the end of the night, garland outlined the ceiling, the door, and the register counter, and a cluster of orange, green, and white pumpkins and tea candles sat in the middle of a cream covered doily on each table. 

You were just finishing putting up little scarecrows and a couple of stuffed ravens in watchful places as Jean flipped the sign to close and Levi worked on closing out the till. 

The three of you worked together to give the place its normal nightly scrub as the quiet jazz that was always playing in the background filled the space around you. It was an easy routine - one that had been trained deeply into the two of you. Jean seemed to go out of his way to help you, though, and Levi wasn’t annoyed by it at all. Whatsoever. 

As Jean threw you an easy smile as you chatted, Levi let out a huff that you caught instantly, and you raised an eyebrow in his direction. 

“Everything alright, Levi?”

“Fine. Just finish up so we can go home.” 

You hummed in agreement, tying up the trash bags that Jean was all too happy to take to the dumpster for you. Once he was out of earshot, you looked over at your boyfriend. “He’s just being nice.” 

There was a click of the tongue as a response, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “None of you other employees get you so riled up.” 

“None of my other employees openly flirt with you,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You planted a gentle kiss under his ear and lowered your voice. “You’re the only one for me, ‘Vi. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He stopped counting bills, raising one hand to give one of your arms a light squeeze, his way of acknowledging your statement. 

When Jean came back in, you made sure to hang on to Levi just a little longer, making it clear where your loyalties lie, and you could feel Levi’s shoulders relax just slightly underneath your arms. 

Once everything had been locked up, all cups and machinery cleaned for the next day, the three of you headed to the front door.

"Don’t forget, I’m stealing Levi for the day tomorrow, so you’ll be opening on your own with Eld,” you reminded Jean as the door shut behind you. Levi pulled out his keys to lock up, Jean nodding. 

“Are the two of you going anywhere fun?” 

“No,” huffed Levi, only to be covered up by your enthusiastic, “Yes!”

“Hange and Moblit invited a group of us to the Pumpkin Farm and Festival over in Trost,” you explained with excitement. “And it’s been ages since we’ve seen everyone, so it’ll be a nice day.” 

Jean smiled in response, only to swallow the words on his tongue as he caught sight of the shorter man’s face. Levi was holding another set of keys out to him, with a large green and white fuzzy ball hanging from it. “Do not lose my spare key.” 

Jean tensed up, barking out “Yes, sir,” a little too loudly as he took the key and put it in his own coat pocket. He knew better than to ask about the keychain - it most likely was something you had put on there.

You reached out, and touched the young man’s arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine tomorrow, Jean, but do call if something happens.” 

A nervous smile was given to you in return. “I’m sure we won’t need to call and bother the two of you at all. We have it handled!” 

There was a snort from Levi, and you subtly elbowed him. 

“It’s a nice evening for a walk, don’t you -”

“Go home, Kirstein.” Levi cut Jean off, putting an arm around your waist and steering you away.  You leaned into the touch, a grin creeping across your face from the jealousy you rarely saw from Levi. Briefly, you turned to wave a goodbye at Jean, and then leaned back into your boyfriend’s embrace. 

“Do you think he forgot we lived together?” you asked with a giggle. 

“Forgot a lot of things if he was that brazen…” Levi trailed off with a huff. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you said with a smile, but that only got you a glare in return.

The majority of your walk was in comfortable silence as you made your way down the maze of roads to the apartment the two have shared for a few months now. You walked up the stairs together, Levi digging out his keys once more to unlock the door to your quaint home. 

Once the lock clicked, his hand froze on the knob, causing your eyebrows to furrow in concern. He let out a long sigh. 

“You didn’t just decorate the shop, did you?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. 

You couldn’t help but grin as you kissed his cheek and pushed the door open wide. The two of you were immediately hit with a wave of cinnamon. “You know me so well.” 

No, Levi couldn’t say that he understood this obsession with this time of the year at all, but it made you happy, and for that, he would tolerate you and your pumpkin spice.

Created by @thechaoticarchivist September 2024. Do not repost - reblogs and comments always welcome!

[xmintpiex]

On the Other End (2/4)

pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader, Yu Haibara x Reader, implied Satosugu

Since birth, it was determined that you would marry Satoru Gojo, your pairing beneficial to both of your clans and so the two of you were tied by your shared fate. At least for this lifetime.

wc: 1,618

Prev Next

content: fem!reader, arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, love, friendship, romance, fluff, growing up together, mentions of death

Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri. You had never met people like them before, people your age like that before. So modern and far removed from the clans. The same age and yet in their presence you felt like nothing more than a little sheltered child. Your 16 so different than theirs. You were so different for them too, the aspect of sorcerer society so easy to forget, to not address. Now right in front of their faces for the rest of their school years. How uncomfortable. 

But

They were good people. Kind, in their own ways. You believed that the moment Shoko lazily called you over to join them on the bench and Geto shoved Satoru a bit to make more room. 

Shoko patting the now-made space on the bench next to her as Satoru whined at Geto for knocking him off, the two bickering. She rolled her eyes and looked up from her flip phone to face you fully with a lazy smile. Satoru shifting to stand in front of the bench, hands on hips as he went on about how they would have to teach you all the ‘cool things’. Shoko and Geto ignoring him, asking you a few casual questions, talking to you, eyes on you. 

That breezy afternoon a little warmer. That great chasm you perceived between yourself and them a little smaller. A little smile of relief gracing your lips.

They did indeed teach you ‘cool things’, how to make ramen in the dorm kitchen, how to use the new flip phone your big sister had given you for not just making calls. How the vending machine on the east side of the campus sometimes gave two bottles if you kicked it just right. 

On your first night there, the four of you in the plain common room to watch a movie together at Satoru’s forceful insistence. Geto sighing and quietly complaining about Satoru’s bossiness yet going along, his lips tilted slightly upwards as he sat next to him. Shoko smoking casually from where she lounged by the open window, telling Satoru he was responsible for getting the snacks since this was his idea. You sat on one of the cushioned seats, a fluffy blanket around your shoulders as you looked at the large tv with excitement. A movie night. Your first of many.    

Of course, it was not always like that, for they were still sorcerers, and you were not. They had missions and were sometimes gone for days while you stayed on campus, insisting on helping around here and there with what Yaga would actually let you do—sweeping, organizing, cleaning, folding. 

The difference between you and them so loud in the quiet of the empty classroom, the lack of laughter and bickering in the dorm. The dusting of the school steps or hanging things out to dry. When they came back, safe and unharmed, complaining about wanting to rest or how it had been ‘too easy’. The air of casualness around them, the vagueness of what had occurred during their missions. How easy it was to think that they were invincible. If only you had realized sooner.

It was during one of these periods when they were away that you had met the first years. You still remember that day, always. A sunny morning at the school entrance where you had decided to help sweep. 

Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara. 

Oh, Yu….

You had heard his voice first before you saw him, energetic as he bounded up the steps. The sound so joyful like sunshine personified, you couldn’t help but turn around in curiosity. 

As he made it up the very final steps, you saw him for the first time. His brown eyes like honey in the sun, meeting yours. The most honest, carefree smile you had ever seen in your whole life. 

Breath caught in your throat. Your heart nearly pounding against your chest as if to break free. The broom nearly dropping from your trembling hands. 

His smile morphing into an open mouth gasp, cheeks flaring red as he looked at you and you looked at him. The sound of your heart so loud, as if it were singing, you had not even noticed the silence. 

Until he tripped over that very final step and you rushed to his side in alarm as he face-planted.   

Your hand on his shoulder. That spark. A warmth you wish you could still feel, now only in your dreams and memories.

At least you had those memories.

How he would run up to wherever you were when he saw you, chatting and insisting on helping you no matter what.

Those rainy days, those lonely days when all your worries and fears felt so true, so suffocating. His bright laughter piercing through. Your laughter following after, heart so warm. 

How he would slow his steps to be next to you when you all walked together for your big outings, falling a bit behind, his steps in sync with yours. Eyes meeting briefly. Smiles matching. 

His head resting in his hand as he watched you happily stuff your face. He had taken you to a bakery and the two of you had decided to split a cake. Your cheeks turning red, expression mortified when you realized what you had done, about to put your fork down with shame. Yet he simply smiled brightly and told you to eat as much as you liked. Eyes dazzling even under the fluorescent lighting. So you took another bite. The most delicious cake of your life, even now.

You anxiously waiting by the school entrance when you knew it was close for them to return, pretending to be busy with sweeping. The sound of his laughter, his figure running up ahead of Nanami’s a great balm to your heart.

Your nervousness as you shyly presented him with the scarf you had knitted for his birthday, almost wanting to take it back right away when seeing how dull it was compared to the other gifts. That feeling that bubbled into your heart, as he held it as if it were the most precious item in the universe, clumsily wrapping it around his neck. Brown eyes wide and cheeks red. You would have knitted him a thousand scarves if you could have. One for every birthday. But you were only able to make two. 

It was in these moments you understood a bit what it must have been like for Satoru. For him and Suguru. Their bickering and arguments. An arm slung around a shoulder. Laughter, teasing, smiles. The comforting quiet of just being in each other’s presence. 

Not Satoru Gojo but rather Satoru in his presence. Just Satoru.

The desire for that to continue forever and ever, the expectation that it would, so hard to imagine that it would ever change. How could it, when it felt so natural?

You thought that too with Yu. How you started to have little simple dreams. Little greedy dreams that went against the expectations ingrained in you since you were little. Dreams of just a girl and the boy she loved, getting to grow together throughout the years. Keeping them deep, deep down in your heart yet still hoping they would come true with time.

You thought you had time, so much time, and so you went slow. Trying to be content with what you had, expecting everything to eventually fall into place.  

That summer of 2007 that you did not think would be the last. Just the two of you at one of the summer festivals, wearing your yukata. Yu wearing his grey yukata as he attempted to catch a goldfish for you. Laughter and smiles bright. Burning your tongues on takoyaki and cooling off with shaved ice. A little bit of sunshine even at night. An inch away from holding hands, falling back to shyness and nervousness. Not wanting to cross a line you had made for yourself. You could wait.

Your shoulders bumping as you watched the fireworks in that clear summer night sky, amongst the crowd of people. Facing the sky yet your eyes wandered to his face to see it illuminated by those bright colors every few seconds. Each time you peeked, his eyes were already focused on your face. Eyes so radiant and intense, his mouth moving before he could even think. Words so truthful and clear despite the booming fireworks. Oh.

How you wished you had kissed him back then. If only you had taken that little courageous step to hold his hand or reached up to press your lips to his cheek or perhaps even his lips. How he would have turned so red, maybe even stuttering for a moment before kissing you back. Your lips would feel so perfect against his, even in a clumsy first kiss. You knew it would have. Maybe you would kiss again and again before finally parting, his grin far more beautiful than those fireworks ever could be yet just as fleeting. Walking back to the campus, hand in hand, cheeks red and hearts singing. One last memory for this lifetime. The touch of his lips forever inprinted on yours.

But you didn’t. Too used to waiting, to thinking just being patient would be enough to be rewarded with what you wanted. After all, wasn’t that what you were always taught? You were very, very good at being patient and well-behaved. 

But in 2007 you learned that the world was a cruel, cruel place. That cruelty did not stop. It did not stop for patience. It did not stop for grief. It did not stop for the weakest or the strongest. It especially did not stop for love.

[nhasablogg]

lee logan howlett PLEAAASSEE🙏🏼 a lot of people write him out of character and i feel like you wouldn't, like no im not gonna imagine a grown man begging??

Victor was always rough with it, and Logan always protested. “It hurts, you fucking lunatic,” he would say, still laughing, because even though it was painful Victor still knew how to hit his worst spots. Claws all but digging into his lower ribs, curling just enough for Logan’s whole body to jerk. A physical weakness. It was embarrassing to have a physical weakness while being this strong, Victor always said and Logan almost believed him.

“How do you think you’ll survive if your enemies can just poke your fuckin’ side?” he would ask, pinning him to the ground as a way to get Logan to learn how to escape. It was never just a game. Logan didn’t always lose, but mostly he did. He did it rarely enough that it wasn’t a problem - they had other issues either way.

Kayla was always gentle with it. Kind, even as she teased him. “You’re so ticklish,” she would say, smiling, loving. Logan would never even deny it. Had never really done so. But he would whine. He would threaten revenge and he would pull through. But he always let her tackle him to the bed and curl her fingers over his ribs. Gentle even as she pulled him apart.

He had been unused to his sensitivity not being used against his nature. When Kayla teased, it was only because she found it endearing. He had blushed tremendously in the beginning about it, once he’d started realizing that maybe it was okay, and now he only groaned because he knew it would always result in him being tickled. Even if it meant he would get her back twice as bad. He was in love with her laughter. He assumed she was in a similar position with his.

Remy was always playful. Quick and daring and sometimes even merciless, but always grinning. Always laughing along. “For a tough guy, you’re very easy to disarm,” he would say, and Logan would at first be reminded of Victor but would get over it eventually. It helped that Remy was worse, which was hilarious to tease him about, but somehow he always got him first. Nimble fingers over his ribs. Laughter when Logan swatted him away.

The rare times he managed to fully pin him, Logan didn’t beg or scream, but simply laughed. Belly laughter, for just a moment. Carefree, for just a moment. His hands always found Remy’s sides, squeezing and making him fold, working on autopilot before his brain caught up, because being with Kayla taught him to tickle back. Wade was annoying about it and Logan never tickled him back, only because he somehow felt as if he wanted him to. And fuck giving that guy what he wanted.

(For now.)

Jean was always accidental with it. His interest in her was not simply delusion, but the way she would touch him made him feel more than just ticklish (although it was also sometimes quite ticklish).

And the professor? Well, let’s just say he’d given Logan one too many knowing looks after he’d been forced into laughter in entirely different parts of the mansion.

[davinaclare]

the next person that tells me what i need is to be around more people is gonna die, i literally just went outside for half an hour and i already hate people 10% more