#faded colour text

[sleepyangelkami]

hiii, I am writer 2 and I wanted to know how to get my colors like that, to fade and look different like yours

hello angel! I use this website (click the word 'this' it'll take you to it) you pick your colours, type out your words and click generate colour faded text. then you're gonna wanna go ahead and copy the long link in the box it generates. when you switch back to tumblr, create a post and click the little settings button. here, you can scroll down to text editor and change "rich text" to "HTML" and only then do you paste your long link. click back to rich text and everything should be perfect!! 🩷

[purplecritter]

Shamelessly inspired by the red-rook-wolf-book because i still think that symbol is fire (no pun intended)

[jichanxo]

i think the thing that really gets to me about kuwagami is that even if they never see each other again they'll probably think about each other for the rest of their lives

[we-love-morioh-cho]

Inspired by @/justdorrito's art of Irene (please check out their art!), I decided to change up my blog theme for a bit which involved cutting these out from the manga. Figured others might wanna use them so here they are, I'm still a novice so they might not be the highest quality. No credit required, just made these transparent 🦋

[themyscrian]

A wandering healer living in the Sector 5 slums, Avalon is a young boy whose raincoat resembles the garb of a legendary hero. Able to commune with the spirits of the departed, he offers them a means by which they may pass on peacefully into the lifestream.

a fun little design challenge for myself — what would Avalon look like in FF7's specific brand of urban fantasy aesthetic

[avi-mation]

RED!Grian - character page

Finally have more time to put into my REDocalypse Roomies AU.

ID texts:

- Face and shoulder feathers

- Grian's REDpocalypse wings. Feather colours faded 'couse of stress and apocalypse survivor life.

- Watcher!Grian. Grian is no longer a full Watcher, but amber's of his powers can manifest when he is in danger.

- Sometimes he dyes his wings to try and make them look like before ( using dandelions and cornflowers )

[capricornlevi]

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

//

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ prompt sets of three 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

write a piece featuring - in any capacity you can think of - all three things depicted in the given prompt!

¹⁾ a polka-dot bikini, a throw blanket and a pint glass

²⁾ a sliotar, a flat tire and a thunderstorm

³⁾ a teakettle, a fresh bruise and rosewater

⁴⁾ a chipped enamel bathtub, a blue sweater and basil leaves

⁵⁾ howling gale winds, an inflatable paddling pool and an oil lamp

⁶⁾ a fresh buzzcut, pink bubblegum and rolling tobacco

⁷⁾ gas station bandaids, a cellophane-wrapped bouquet and muddy footprints

⁸⁾ a lipstick print, skinned knees and stained-glass windows

⁹⁾ a busted streetlight, green olives and a teak countertop

¹⁰⁾ gun oil, red lace and an old armchair

¹¹⁾ a fresh tattoo, a sacristy, and guilt

¹²⁾ a corner booth, sweet patchouli and a wallet

¹³⁾ donuts, orange juice and a jail cell

¹⁴⁾ a cold red bull, shaking hands and broken traffic lights

¹⁵⁾ new graves, a busted headlight and silver rings

¹⁶⁾ handcuffs, brightly coloured building blocks and fir trees

¹⁷⁾ a shortwave radio, takeout containers and a bare lightbulb

¹⁸⁾ broken windows, waist-high grasses and lit matches

¹⁹⁾ orange segments, divorce papers and a front porch

²⁰⁾ horror movies, steaming showers and cold bedsheets

²¹⁾ brazilian lemonade, a split lip and daisy chains

²²⁾ a red convertible, a priest’s collar and dogtags

²³⁾ a corner office, parking tickets and greyhound races

²⁴⁾ bitten lips, army fatigues, and coca-cola

²⁵⁾ old wives’ tales, creaky stairs and cherry lipgloss

²⁶⁾ smooth whiskey, greying hair and warm hands

²⁷⁾ hospital food, full moons and a reconciliation

²⁸⁾ exes, candy wrappers and a twin bed

²⁹⁾ a rural motel, a pocket knife and iodine

³⁰⁾ a dirty martini, a dressing gown and blood under fingernails

³¹⁾ slept-in braids, a lamplit office and an explosion

³²⁾ blueberry pancakes, a restraining order and the taste of rum off someone’s lips

³³⁾ farmers’ market peaches, burnt coffee and houseplants

³⁴⁾ a late text, faded jeans and lightning strikes

³⁶⁾ desert air, zinnias and chocolates

³⁷⁾ an old truck, freshly turned earth and a tv dinner

³⁸⁾ wedding rings, wildfire and wrought iron gates

³⁹⁾ a hostage situation, evergreen trees and a pierced tongue

⁴⁰⁾ unripe strawberries, bitter wine and a kitchen table

⁴¹⁾ a head laid down in a lap, green tea and a break news announcement

⁴²⁾ a fire alarm, a flower-patterened apron and an ajar kitchen window

⁴³⁾ a jar of jam, two shots of vodka and a stack of car manuals

⁴⁴⁾ techno music at 4am, knitted jumpers and a broken watch

⁴⁵⁾ a green silk scarf, a pan of burnt food and the trunk of a car

⁴⁶⁾ bound hands, a crescent moon and laughter

⁴⁷⁾ a winter coat, a heatwave and fresh mangos

⁴⁸⁾ a thrift store sofa, a highrise apartment building and creaking floorboards

⁴⁹⁾ missing teeth, a house half covered in ivy and cheap beer

⁵⁰⁾ undeveloped camera film, stomach kisses and cigarette smoke

[monster-match-if]

Welcome to Paradise!

A few decades after the mystical veil between the human and supernatural world was shattered there are still efforts done to fully integrate the two societies. What better way to achieve that than an international & interspecies dating show?!

Ten lucky beings are going to be selected for the first ever edition of Monster Match, and embark on a month-long vacation on a tropical island. Follow your heart or mind when making decisions and win the public’s favour. At the end of the month, the fan favourite couple will win a whopping cash prize of €500,000, to keep or split between them.

Couple up, have fun with the various challenges and most importantly stay alive find love!

And beware of what’s lurking in the shadows!

Genre: Reality TV dating show, monster fu- lovers. Love island the game, but with monsters. Strictly 18+!

WIP - some things may still change on the way.

Play as Male or Female.

Choose to be a Sweetheart, a Charmer or a Flirt.

Have fun or stir up some drama between the other contestants!

Find love or do it all for the money.

Split the prize, or keep it all to yourself… if you win.

Choose between 5 gender selectable ROs and two male partial ROs.

Try to figure out what's happening to the eliminated contestants or ignore the gnawing feeling.

Entirely choice based, the stats are there for flavor text. This is an excuse to write monster, ermm, loving content. The story is rated 18+ and will contain NSFW and maybe some gore along with other dubious things. There will be fade to black options and skippable scenes as well as preference options and some pretty tame and sweet routes, but why are you here if monsters are not your thing? Read at your own discretion!

Morgan → Vampire🦇 - M/F - 6’  Tall and pale, with dark hair and crimson eyes, and an infuriating naturally gorgeous body. Always has the hair styled neatly and preferes classy clothes. An incurable flirt. Expect: Blood and biting related activities. Not particularly loyal.

Elindorn / Eli → Deep forest elf 🏹 (basically a drow) - M/F - 5'7 / 6'4  Tall with an athletic swimmer’s body. Dusty lilac skin, long milky white hair and pale silver eyes that seem to look into your soul. Expect: actually… the most well adjusted of the bunch. Elves mate for life.

The bombshell - Blake → Incubus/ Succubus🌶️- obviously M/F - 5’8/ 6’4  Deep brown skin, short curly black hair and vivid blue eyes. Horns and tail in their “true” form. Skimpy clothes to attract potential vict- partners. Expect: open relationship, multiple partners, life… sucking?

Kitai → Kitsune 🦊- M/F - 5'5 / 5'11 (Casa Amor contestant) The shortest of the group, but the most attentive and ready to please. Ivory skin, long jet black hair and yellow eyes.  Expect: probably the sweetest, most wholesome route, tails - nine of them.

Fionnlagh / Fion → Cecaelia 🐙 (yes, tentacles) - M/F - 5'6 / 6'3 (Casa Amor contestant)  Tanned skin, long wavy red hair, and green eyes. Eight crimson tentacles in their “true” form. Expect: foursome options, but otherwise tentacles and fun, dubious consent-ish if you squint.

Partial ROs

Ragnar → Werewolf 🐺 - M - 6’9/ 8' when in werewolf form Only RO available strictly to F MC and only one who will break up with MC if they cheat or don't have the same views. Tall and built like a mountain, with lightly tanned skin, brown hair and beard and kind brown eyes. Covered in tattoos. Expect: *sigh* knotting, breeding, bestialityithink??

Seishish  - Sei  → naga 🐍 (yes 2 🍆) - M - 6'2 / 11' long with tail out  The Host - not being a contestant will limit interactions in the first half of the story, but he is also an endgame RO. Rich olive skin with a golden hue, long wavy platinum blonde hair, hazel snake eyes. Gains a lot of length in trier half-snake form, the tail an iridescent golden colour. Expect: dubious consent-ish if you squint, ovo…ovi… the eggpreg thing.

Other OG contestants

Warlock/human - Gael - M Human - Kat - F Siren - Oralla - F Fairy - Feyre - F (original name, I know) Angel - Arael - F Demon Azrorath - M

Demo coming soon

[parasolemn]

[Image description: The first image is a digital painting of Visual Calculus' skill portrait in Disco Elysium. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - The cold sea breeze stings your face as you step on the boardwalk. The body is gone, but something still lingers in the air. And high above it, against the stars..." End text. The portrait then fades into a dark night sky. The second image continues from the first with the same night sky. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - A luminous wheel of pleasure and all things bright, its wooden frame creaking in the wind. Twelve red cabins form a circle that stretches from the engines below to the flocks of seagulls up in the sky. INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The mirage looks both sad and glorious in the mist, like an insect trapped in glass." End text. Green and blue lines from Visual Calculus' portrait twist around an orange, blue and purple projection of a ferris wheel. Behind it, the sun emerges in a bright burst of colour. Harry Du Bois looks up at it, amazed; Kim Kitsuragi looks at him in concern. Text reads: "YOU - 'You don't see it?' KIM KITSURAGI - 'See what?' The lieutenant looks around uncomfortably." End ID]

[kestisvrse]

good luck charm

part i, part ii

pairing ⋆ hockey player!luke castellan x fem!reader au. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ the rivalry between you and luke had ended, revealing feelings that were buried and how badly he wanted to call you his.

warnings ⋆ i know nothing abt hockey i’m just canadian let me live, swearing, fast paced sorry😭 | wc: 1.3k

♫ - nervous by the neighbourhood

life recently felt like a parallel universe, it felt almost wrong to wake up every morning with a good morning text from luke castellan.

you weren’t exactly close, but you had gotten to the point where you could talk and you didn’t insult him the entire time, and even found yourself cheering for him at his games.

your brother nagged at you for details about what happened that day, as you responded with nothing other than you apologized for being rude to him. he wasn’t buying it all, he had yet to see the fact that you texted luke daily, he only noticed the lack of comments you would make towards him and the fact that you would smile towards luke, something he thought was physically impossible.

you had realized pretty quickly after that day that despite ‘hating’ luke, it was to get rid of the butterflies you felt everytime you saw his curly black hair in a room, or heard his raspy voice with the smirk he always wore. it embarrassed you to think about, to think like this over a boy, but you couldn’t help it.

luckily, it was obvious he likes you, it was obvious from the first day you met him and how often he would be distracted from his tasks by you, but now that you were friends? some people could consider it insufferable how he would act with you, one of your friends called him ‘lovesick’.

which he was, it was such an odd realization, going from hating the boy to secretly liking him while he acted like your boyfriend, constantly texting you, sending you videos of how it reminded him of you or that you two should do a tik tok trend that was obviously made for couples.

he wasn’t embarrassed, he wanted you to know from the start how he felt, but the walls you built hid you from the truth until he broke them down.

despite how it all felt to you, rushed and weird, you found yourself sitting in his car, looking over the ocean as the sun set.

you couldn’t help but overthink everything, after all you said to him, here he sat, admiring your face unable to tear away, like you were a mirage he didn’t want to fade away.

“you’re staring, castellan.” you broke the silence between you two.

“thank you so much, captain obvious.” you could hear the smirk that formed as he said his clever response, earning an eye roll from you, but your own smile creeping up, “you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“yeah, why?” you ask

“great, i want you to wear this.” he reaches into his backseat before returning with his jersey, his eyes full of joy as he offers it to you.

“luke..” you stared at the jersey in your hands, “are you sure? i mean people will probably think i’m your girlfriend.”

“that was the plan, yes.” he says, “just, try it on.” he motions to you, you shrug it over your hoodie looking for his reaction.

to say he was in awe was an understatement, he was stuck in a trance at the sight of you wearing his number, like a deer in headlights he stared at you.

“luke…?” you spoke up, he snapped his head up to make eye contact with you.

“please wear it to the game.” he stuttered, his cheeks flushed red and suddenly his car felt very hot.

“okay, i will.” you whisper.

↦

the freezing air against your face from the rink was so familiar it barely bothered you anymore, you had yet to see your brother and you wondered just what would go through his head at the sight of you, a hoodie on with an extra layer of the team’s colours, sporting luke castellan's number.

you didn’t even think of luke’s reaction, something about really seeing you with it on at the rink, he knew he was done for. when he exited the dressing room he immediately froze at the sight of you, and your smile that you reserved just for him, he was bright red at this point.

“luke!” you blurted, running up to him.

“hey.” he breathed out, unable to take his eyes off you.

“goodluck, you’ll do great.” you praised him, biting back a smile as you stared up at him.

“i have a good luck charm today, i think we can win.” he told you, a cheeky grin appearing, you tilt your head asking what it was, “you.”

before you could answer he was dragged off to the ice, you could feel your own blush rise up at his words. quickly rushing to your seat, your brother spots you and mid smile his jaw drops.

you sent him a sheepish wave, as luke grinned at the sight of him.

and then the game started.

as per usual, luke whipped around the ice. easily dodging and weaving his opponents as if they were made of air. it was mesmerizing to watch the way he moved, he seemed so focused on the task at hand, and yet even while he skated down the rink with the puck at the end of his stick, he still found the opportunity to look at you.

he was bound to get player of the game you thought to yourself, the way he boosted his teammates up, making sure everyone got the chance to make an impressive move even if that was the complete opposite point of the sport.

as the final buzzer rang, you jumped from your seat, the crowd watching erupted into cheers at the teams win as they watched the boys tackle each other into hugs.

you quickly dodged and ran through the stands to get to the entrance to the rink, to congratulate the team, as luke watched you make your way to him, he threw his helmet to the side to grab you and bring you into his arms.

“you won! you fucking won the tournament castellan!” you squealed into his neck.

he stopped spinning you and placed you onto the ground, and the way he looked into your eyes made everyone in the rink disappear. the cold air that previously nipped at you was replaced with a warm cozy feeling as you stared into his eyes.

he went to ask you the question, but his words wouldn’t come out, he felt his team stop and stare at the two of you, as you nodded towards him just from the expression in his eyes.

the expression was him asking if he could kiss you.

you swore you heard fireworks when he lent down to meet your lips, his gloves discarded so he could put his sweaty hands on your face, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours was enough to make you completely ignore how sweaty he was from the game.

he pulled away from your lips, as badly as he wanted to stay there forever.

“been wanting to do that for awhile.” he breathes, awestruck as he stares at you, as if you were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

“i knew it!” your brother's voice called out, distracting you from answering, “i knew you were sneaking out to see him!” your brother's jaw was on the ground.

“uh… sorry?” you muttered

your brother gave luke the iconic ‘you hurt her, i kill you.’ look before wandering into the dressing room.

luke just turns to you, “can i take you on a proper date tonight, good luck charm?” he asks

you snort, but begin to grin, “once you wash all this sweat off, i would love to go on a date with you.” he smirks and goes to kiss you, but you place your palm on his chest to push him back, “shower, castellan.”

despite how fast he flew down the rink, he definitely ran faster to the shower, in desperate need for another kiss from you.

[luvwestwood]

"Give Me Five" - Choso Kamo

4,591 words.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw (18+), ice-hockey player! choso, bestfriend's brother trope, p in v, resolved sexual tensions, foreplay, fingering, titty sucking, choso fucks you in his jersey, orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, rough play, nsfw links (underlined), spitting kink, mirror play, feral choso

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I absolutely enjoyed making this special request for @moonriseoverkyoto! thank you all so much for 700 followers ^^ included a link for you lovelies as a gift, hehe I hope to send more work your way soon :) thank you for the love and support this whole month!

rightful art credits to @/kmskc_f, @/yume041624, @/elcheggen, @/uoru1_juju (all on twt)!

(russian translation) - creds to @juliabelll 🩷

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you were met with the coldness of the rink. Bits of regret filled you for being stubborn this morning, choosing to not wear extra layers. Squinting, you look around to find a close friend of yours, not too far a figure jumping up and down catches your eye.

"Hey! Over here- I'm here!" Yuji called to you in his typical, chirpy voice. Multiple heads turned to the sudden commotion, followed by another look to your direction. Embarrassed, you facepalm; whispering quiet apologies to others as you squeeze past the row of seats, making your way over.

"Yuji!- I got caught in traffic. Did I miss anything?" You fold down the seat next to him, the excited Yuji passing you another one of those generic team jerseys that he also had on. You take a good look at it before putting the garment over your head, the team colours being black and yellow.

Beside you, the boy rummages through a large plastic bag of popcorn. "Mmph- No- My brother would be happy if he knew- You were here." His eyes were wide open and alert, observing the game like a hawk.

"..Ah, it's nothing. If I didn't go, I would have been rotting at home." You giggled, knowing the real answer. As soon as Yuji sent the text, 'wanna go to my brother's game next weekend?'. You had to go. You've been dying to go. Ever since you met Choso for the first time, you made good use of every opportunity you had to see him.

He had an unforgettable face, and a dreamy body you'd sometimes, and shamelessly catch a glimpse of from time to time. But you were doubting, and unsure if the feeling was mutual. The man was busy, which drove you to think he had no time for a woman in his life.

You fixate your head to the rink in front of you. Of course, you got a hold of the best seats. Yuji being the brother of a world renowned hockey player had it’s benefits.

The same bag of popcorn lands firmly onto your lap, Yuji reaching for the soda cup underneath his foot. "Hmm, he looks pissed though. I think I know why." He leans back, index finger scratching at his head.

You furrow your brows, taking several glances around the ice. A familiar back faced you, 'Kamo' and '12' plastered onto the behind of his jersey. Dark hair effortlessly left down, not too much going on. A couple loose strands falling onto his face, Choso looked like a dream. Yuji beside you shrieks for his name, cheering his brother on.

Choso spins around, glaring at the audience. He was outraged, and you weren't sure why. He didn't dare smile, or wave. Yuji grunts at his brothers reaction, smile fading and slouching back down onto the seat.

"..Oh, I get what you mean now." It was undeniable that Choso was a different person behind his helmet, and that he took the sport seriously. He always wanted to make everyone proud. As one of the best players on his team, everyone counted on him, so there was a generous amount of pressure on his shoulders.

The screeching blow of a whistle shrills throughout the arena for half time, Choso violently shoving his hockey stick onto the ice. Plenty of teammates approach him, others choose to not get involved. Either way, he shoves past them. Everyone around you seemed confused, wondering what made him so agitated. You watched as he cursed to his higher-ups, hands strongly gripping onto the side wall.

"Every day, I fucking hate this sport more and more." Choso speaks through gritted teeth, angrily ripping off his helmet. "Piece of shit."

The staff team stands aside, ushering him out of the rink. His coach guides him over to the side bench, crouching down to give him a typical, motivational chat. Choso only puts his head down and into his gloved hands, becoming more and more annoyed by the second.

"Kamo- you know what? Bring your ass back to the locker room and give yourself five." Not knowing what to do, his coach decides it was best for him to blow off some steam. Not letting out another word, he storms off back into the locker rooms, the crowds groaning as he does so; the privacy invading camera focusing on him.

Chatter filled the air between the crowds around you. “..What happened to him? Your brother just stormed off.” You turn to Yuji, confused and filled with millions of questions.

"No clue, but I'm still a bit hungry." Yuji sighs, looking at the now empty plastic bag of popcorn. He takes a sip of what's left in his soda cup.

"..What? You are?" You look through your purse for some money. More than enough, that's for sure. A wrinkled twenty bill was tucked away inside. "Here- I'll go and get you something. It's on me."

You could've sworn that you had seen happiness twinkle in his eyes. This boy certainly loves to eat. "..Really?" He smiles, in response you nod your head up and down.

"Yeah! Just give me five, I'll be back as soon as possible." You warmly confirm the offer and he nods, shortly before you had to endure the entire process squeezing your way back out of the row.

You walk off into the tunnel leading to the outside of the arena. So many halls, and I’m not even familiar with this place. The two minute stroll led you to nowhere anyways, resulting in you doubting yourself. “…Where’s the food court?” You pout, coming to the conclusion you had probably been walking in circles this whole time.

The next long corridor you were met with was filled with doors everywhere. Loads of them. “..Ah.. have I been here before?”

Walking past each door, you look around for anybody nearby who was able to provide some sort of guidance. Hopeless, there was no one at all. Until one door you had walked past was slightly open, the light on. Maybe someone was in there? You genuinely just wanted to get your hot dogs.

You retrace your steps backwards, the faint sound of two voices coming from the room. Curious, you peeked your head through the slight gap.

"I don't think I did my best out there." It was Choso, elbows on knees on a padded seat. Heaving heavily, pulling the last strings of himself together. His coach with arms crossed in front of him. The conversation was hard to make out, but you were still able to put together some bits of it.

Clutching tightly onto your necklace, you couldn't help but feel concerned. Choso adored this sport with his entire heart, but so much he didn't have time to do anything else. Yuji always talked about how distant he could be when preparing for the new season.

The cursing stops, and before you know it, the door in front of you was wide open; framing you to look like an absolute snoop. You howl, instantly stepping back from the door frame. The same coach stood in front of you, an appalling look on his face. "Who the hell are you?! A money hungry reporter? Guards!-"

You nervously laugh, "Oh- No, no- I'm not a-", endless words were coming out of your mouth in a complete babble.

"..I know her." Choso who was watching everything unfold, tilted his head to the side, looking to see who was at the door.

The coach looks at you with an unamused expression, giving Choso a double look. His voice grows low, speaking in a discreet manner. "How about you talk it out with him. He needs it." He says before walking away from the frame, giving you a stare down as he does so.

Dumbfounded, a string of words only come out in a disoriented patter, "..I was just, looking for the.. concession stand.."

Choso on the other hand, keeps quiet. Blankly staring at the carpeted floor. His gloves and skates were off, but his jersey still on. You gulp, considering if you should speak anymore; scared that you'll only tick him off further.

Your hands rested in each of your palms, unsure whether you should step inside. "..I'm here with your brother, actually- cause he invited me to-"

"I know. I wanted you to come. I invited you, I told him to ask you." Choso speaks lowly, his tone different from when he was talking to the coach. He lets out a labored sigh, mumbling. "..Only for me to play like absolute shit,"

Processing what he had just said, it still changed your entire perspective. You didn't know how to think of it though, so you simply looked over it.

Deciding to approach him rather than standing at the door like some stranger, you close the door behind you. Recalling the coach talking about 'money hungry reporters', you didn't want to take any chances. "..I don't mean to pry, but do you want to talk about.. this?" Sitting down on the free seat beside Choso, you were careful with your choice of words. You didn't want to dig the hole any deeper. Making yourself comfortable, you set your bag away to the side and faced him.

Choso's voice was more soft, and it wasn't as stern to when he was talking to his coach. "..I just don't approve of how I'm performing lately."

Personally, you didn't know much about ice hockey. Nor did you store any valuable advice for it in your brain. It pained you to think that if you were to give him advice, you'd sound like a typical high school guidance counselor.

"Oh, well um.." You purse your lips, trying to come up with something to say. "Is it because you're.. stressed?" Still unsure of what to do, your hand slowly makes its way onto the flat of his back; slowly rubbing shapes all over to comfort him.

"Probably." Although his voice was now mellow, Choso's replies were becoming short and quick. You were afraid that this talking out was of no use to him.

Your hand stops its movements, "..Should you do something about it? Like let it out?", Choso lifts his head up, turning to you. A gulp forces down your throat at how intense he was eyeing you, your own eyes unable to hold contact.

Choso blinks, head turning away once again to rest his chin on his palm. "..I don't know how." That was his problem, Choso wasn't good at letting out his emotions. He usually bottled them up, and solved his personal problems on his own— you could almost refer to him as a stoic being.

Clearing your throat, you bite your lower lip to try and think of something. You gave him the advice, but you didn't know the method yourself. This is why I could never be a therapist.

You mentally curse at yourself, trying to come up with a suggestion that isn't so cheesy like, do what you love to do!

"..I don't know either.. Me- I guess?" A worried expression washes over your face, a mazed Choso turning his head to you for the second time.

A perplexed, questioning noise came stirred up in him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Eyes fluttering, you were unable to provide him with another answer. What did you mean by, 'me'? Was it just another one of those moments where you let your mouth speak before you think? "..You could let it out.. on me?"

Chosos demeanor had altered, his chin peeling away from the warmth of his palm. His body sat upright as he looked at you, his lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if he was mortified or enthralled; and you were almost begging for him to say something.

He closes his mouth and swallows some spit to nourish his dried out throat, before standing up in front of you. You feel as if your beating heart were to take over your entire body and head any second now. A lingering tension in the air so thick— not even a lumberjack could saw through it.

Choso's eyes surveying you from top to bottom, studying the features on your face— his thumb swipes across your cheek in a tender, reassuring matter. He was grateful of your offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to directly accept it.

Choso's hand slowly moves down your face, the tip of his thumb gently pressing down on your lower lip. "..You look good in our jersey," His thumb forces the rest of its way into your mouth, "..but even better if it was my own." Was this a code phrase for, 'I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now?' His thoughts drifted off to filthy things—like imagining himself rutting into you in his own, bespoke jersey, 'Kamo' in a dirty gold written on your back as you take him whole like a good girl.

Your breath hitches, his finger gliding over the surface of your tongue before he decides to pull it back out. Choso starts to take off the gear on his upper half, both the body pads and jersey.

It was difficult enough to keep your eyes off the now, half naked Choso in front of you. His body muscular and perfectly carved from all of the work he's been putting in for preparation, Choso was more than pleasing to look at. He tosses his jersey and gear beside you, his hands grabbing onto the flesh of your waist.

Lifting you from the seat, you wrap your legs around his torso, lips desperately locking onto each other as he switched positions. The two of you now sitting back down on the seat.

Short mewls and gasps for air leave your mouth as you started to pull your top over your head; Choso's hands roaming all over the surface of your ass. Your hands travel down his chest, your finger tips tracing over his abs painfully slow. Tongues tangling, Choso swallowing any moan he could get from you, especially after the distressingly slow period of yearning for one another. It felt like a reward.

Being the skilled man he is, his fingertips undo the clasp of your bra effortlessly. Groaning in satisfaction, eyes closed and sucking; a free hand fondling with the other.

You claw your fingers through his hair, quietly moaning as he hungrily latched onto your nipple. Arching against his bare skin, you ached to keep him close, and possibly closer. Amidst the sucking, Choso reaches for his jersey beside him, gesturing you to put it over your head. He fulfilled his wish. You proudly raise your arms up, feeling the fabric graze against your skin. It was quite massive on you, hence himself being twice your size.

Impatient, your curious hands wander off to the waistband of his pants; his safety gear already being off had made it easier. Reaching down and past his skin tight shorts, a thought evoking in you causing your hand to withdraw.

"..W-wait," You pant, "What about everyone out there?" You couldn't help but worry about those outside who would start to get suspicious. You knew how much this mattered to him.

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't really care, they're assholes anyway. Let them wait." His lips only make its way back onto the skin of your neck, warm breath fanning down your sternum. He didn't care if everyone else were to wait outside. He had been waiting for this moment, dreaming about it - and would do anything to not miss it.

Using two hands, you possessively grab onto his jaw to keep him closer, Choso's hands cheekily moving up inside the jersey and cupping onto both of your tits. He really loves them, doesn't he?

Pulling away for another breath your lips miss his already. You hop off his lap, hastily unbuttoning and kicking off your jeans. They fly away to the other side of the locker room, Choso pulling you back into his embarace. But this time, you were facing the other way.

His fingers tug onto the hem of your panties, pulling them back until they snapped against your skin; the stinging sound echoing throughout the room.

You intently watch yourself in the full length mirror across from you two, Choso using his hands to guide your legs open; his head falling onto the crook of your neck.

Choso's hand slowly made its way down to the your panties, his fingertips moving the fabric to the side. Toying with your folds, taking his sweet time. His delicate, addicting touch giving you shivers all over. You close your eyes to indulge in the ecstasy of this moment; scolding yourself for not doing this with him any sooner.

His same fingertips circle your clit, the speed of his movements fluctuating; which resulted in you grabbing onto his bicep, your body sinking down into his lap. Choso watches you break into pieces under his touch, how you repeatedly tap on his arm- asking for leniency.

Choso leans down to your ear, his throaty voice almost sounding like he's purring. “Just relax for me, I can feel you’re too tensed up.” Wasn’t it supposed to be me who gives him advice? Why is it that the roles have reversed?

The back of your head presses deeply into his chest, Choso bringing retrieving fingers give them a generous suck before pushing them into you. His fingers curl up inside, working them in a motion that emits a squelching noise.

“C-Choso, it’s too much- please,” A whimper crawls out of your throat, the man above you cooing and hushing you.

Your hair raising pleas being the catalyst for him only wanting to do more than he already is. His middle finger taps and teases and your bundle of nerves, his strength making your tug on his wrist pointless. “..Shh, you don’t want them to hear, do you?”

You frantically shake your head from side to side, Choso grinning against the top of your head as he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock straining against his shorts, he would take a photo to make this memory last.

His gestures come to a halt and you whine, Choso had forbidden you from orgasming. "Choso!" You hiss as he glues his hands to your hips, twirling you around against the seat.

Mindfully pressing onto the flat of your lower back, he bends you forward; in need of support, your hands reached for the wooden slabs that divided the seats. His strong hands rip your underwear into fragments off your body, Choso sneering at you nagging him.

His actions in no rush, the same hands that were cupping your pussy now feeling down your back, Choso sheepishly grinning at this fresh new view, a degree of gratification fills him for the hundredth time at the sight of 'Kamo' and '12' plastered on your back.

You reach behind you, barely tapping your fingers on Choso's pelvis to grab his attention. He leans down to hear what you had to say, the imprint of his cock imprisoned by his shorts pressed against your bare pussy.

“..Let it all out, I promise I’ll be okay.” Your hand snaked behind his head, fingers combing through his hair one last time. His body heat glossed over your behind, a position so intimate.“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, alright?”

Nodding in approval, Choso withdraws into his old position. Grabbing for his girthy cock out of his shorts, he groans as he jerks it ever so slightly. Forming an orb of spit on his tongue, letting it fall directly onto his length. He doesn't waste anymore time to slide it in, the objective of not hurting you still at the back of his mind.

You let out a long, awaited whimper that broke out into a pained sniffle, his entire length stretching you out. Your anchoring onto the wooden panels only grew stronger, Choso stilling in you for a few moments. The two of you create a symphony of guilty satisfaction, Choso himself unable to process that you let him inside of you; luckiest man in the world, he thought.

His grip on the plush of your waist transition into a soothing massage, “..Are you okay?” Concerned, he regards your strained noises.

Tears well up in your eyes, Choso rubbing his hands up and down your back. “..I-I’m fine.” You replied, managing to form some words. Even though it hurts, you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this as much as he did. He inhales deeply, grunting as his hips stroked into you slow and deep. He took you in like a work of art, savoring every minute, second with you.

“Fuck, Choso- just go faster will you? I know you want to.” You choke out, words dying in your throat. Choso obeying the green llight, you felt him grab and twist onto the fabric of the jersey behind you, his hips snapping into you at a faster pace.

A cacophony of skin slapping and moaning echoed throughout the room, Choso brings his hand down to toy with your clit; heightening your stimulation. Your entire body jolting with each of his thrusts, his little praises like 'good girl', and 'you're taking me so well' making your sex pool like mad.

Broken and choppy curses slip past your wet llips, Choso letting go of the jersey and fixing his grip on your scalp, pulling your head back towards him.

His hand sneaks underneath your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you furrow your brows up at him. Your mouth stays wide open, moans no longer heard coming out from it. "Look at me baby," lids shut at the colossal pleasure, Choso needs not to repeat himself; but he does. "I said, look at me," Hauling your eyelids up, a vision of Choso glaring down at you from above— he wasn't the same person as the one half an hour ago.

Choso drops yet another ball of spit into your mouth, patting on the bottom of your chin telling you to shut and swallow, letting out a throaty sound in approval.

Clawing his fingers back into your scalp, he pushes your head back down. His leg lands onto the seat beside you, his thrusts brutally drilling into you deeper than before; Choso definitely rearranging your guts. You let him use you, so he did exactly that. Hell- if you two had a bed, just make sure you have enough saved for a new one the next day.

Makeup was unfortunately ruined from tears and spit, your hair no longer in perfect style from all the grabbing. His heavy balls relentlessly slapped against your clit, Choso huffing quietly.

He takes a hold of your two wrists, prying you from the comfort of the seat and commanding you to stand. Hypnotised, you watched everything unfold; Choso still holding onto your arms behind you as he continued to rut into your hole like a mad man.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, all sorts of unimaginable feelings stirring in the pool of your stomach; Choso already grows bored of the position. He swiftly lides you off his cock, turning you around for the fifth time today so he could see your beautiful face one more time.

Unsure of what was to happen next, you tiringly wrap both of your hands around his neck as he cupped onto the surface of your ass, lifting you up and sinking you down onto his cock. Your head rests against his chest in exhaustion, Choso’s anchored grip slowly loosening, choosing to move into the inside of your legs. Short paced breaths and eyes shutting at the new sensation of him fucking up into you. It was light work to him, carrying you was no problem at all.

Pushing both of you against a nearby wall, your back almost slid up and down the cold panels as Choso grew feral, his cock bullying but thoughtfully kissing your cervix at this unforgiving pace.

You fail to keep your eyes open, body taken over by bliss as he bottoms into you, convinced you had lost your voice. Choso could feel your silky juices move down his shaft, walls constantly clenching around around him.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes,” Choso orders, your hands hysterically tapping onto his shoulders to let him know you were going to snap. Your face winced in pain, you knew that you were going to have a hard time walking for the next week or two.

“..C-Choso,” you choke out, a threshold about to be met as the unfamiliar coil in your stomach urges to let loose.

His thrusts deepening to push you over the edge, cock sloppily moving in and out of your hole; his entire length coated with you.

“Just let it out— let it out.” he desperately whimpered, your mouth forming an ‘o’. His words like a spell, something that will haunt you for days coming. Choso’s eyes faux-sympathetically looking into yours that were blinking like mad as he felt your legs shiver in his grasp.

You shatter and cry at the orgasm that washed over you, bringing yourself to look at his cock withdrawing from your puffy, used cunt. Choso's jaw clenched, beads of white endlessly form at his tip, his balls twitching at the same time your gummy walls pulsed and throbbed around him.

He doesn’t let go of you, bodies still overheating and glistening from sweat. Instead he carries you back to the seats, sitting you down like a fragile porcelain doll. “My legs,” your voice raspy from the endless moaning, “..they’re so sore.”

Choso leans in for a meaningful kiss, your cock-dazed smile forming against his lips. His hands kneading your thighs. The locker room smelled of filthy, sinful sex—but that will just air out in no time. “..You need me to walk you out?”

“Choso, you can’t. There are cameras everywhere.” You grab your purse off the ground, in search of your phone. Almost forty five minutes have passed, your eyes widening. “Huh?! How long have I been gone for?"

He attempts to wipe the stained carpets, a faint white still engraved. Atleast he tried. “Pussy too good I forgot where I was, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Not funny, Choso. I need to get back to your brother!” Scurrying around the room, you pick your jeans off the ground, Choso whistling behind you causing you to turn your head,

“..Guess these aren’t of use to you anymore?” He holds the fragments of your panties up, torn to pieces, the dismaying mempry angering you as you were reminded of it for the second time.

You snap at him, Choso not taking any inch of you seriously. I mean, he literally had you whimpering, fucked you in his jersey and melting under his touch less than five minutes ago. “You fucking owe me a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred.”

You hurry out into the lobby, looking around for Yuji. Not having time to fix your hair, you almost scream as you walked past a reflection of yourself, mortified at how you looked. It’s okay… he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?

A familiar coral haired person was lounging at the sofas down the end, of course that had to be him. “Y-Yuji? is that you?” The head turning to your direction, it definitely was him; his eyes were shocked to still see you alive and standing before him.

You sit on the free armchair beside him, “..I’m so sorry, something just.. happened.” Nervously smiling, you wipe the residues of dried spit off your chin, your head stuck in one direction to avoid looking at Yuji in the face. Airing yourself with an invisible fan, you look away in all sorts of directions.

“It’s cool, the game got cancelled anyways- and I got my hotdogs.” He points to the four empty wrappers on the table in front of him. Yuji leans back against the sofa.

“..Uh— ..Is that, Choso's jersey?"

Fuck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, ily guys sm!!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[nvuy]

I saw the Boothill text messages leaks and he physically can not cry. How does this info make u feel 🎤

GIVE ME THAT 🎤

“Theoretical question…” Boothill gratefully takes the glass of wine you hand to him before you sidle up next to him in the grass. “…But say the sun was g’nna blow up tomorrow, and you were the only one that knew about it. What would you do?”

He pulls off his hat and rests it by his feet. He feels you staring at him. Your gaze is warm, yet something about it bothers him. Like you’re trying to read him.

He presses his lips together in a thin line.

“That’s definitely a question,” you murmur beneath your breath. “Why?”

He says nothing for a moment.

The warm breeze is gentle.

He’s still staring at the sunset when he replies, “dunno. ‘M curious.” His words are accompanied by a casual shrug.

He hears you shift, maybe slightly uncomfortable. The wine in your glass sloshes.

He takes a sip from his own glass. It’s not his favourite, but you can’t really afford anything to his tastes. But, for what it’s worth, the wine is nice, and good enough to take his mind off how his metal fingers still seem to tremble when he mentions the end of the world.

Sweet and benign on his tongue, just like you. He hums and studies the drink through the glass. Maybe cheap booze ain’t too shabby.

“I guess I’d spend it with my family,” you say. You, too, shrug.

“Would you tell ‘em?” He turns his head to look at you. “That the world’s endin’?”

He watches as you inhale.

Then, you say, “no.” There’s a light shake of your head to accompany your words. “I don’t want to scare them.”

That’s what he did, too. Many, many years ago.

He remembers seeing red smeared all over her little face. How it slowly turned a deep purple as she held her breath. How it then faded completely with its colour, and he lost sight of her gorgeous pinkish cheeks when she took her final breaths.

“What would ya say to them in the last minute?”

He can’t remember her voice anymore.

That lump in his throat swells, and it feels like a cold marble. He’s so tired of trying to swallow it.

“I think I’d be too busy crying like a baby, but…” It was a lighthearted joke as you nudge him in the side. He only lets out a humourless puff of air through his nose. “I’d tell them I love them. That they’re the best people I’ve ever known.”

Something heavy weighs in his chest like hot iron, burning and bubbling at the base of his throat. “Yeah. I get it.”

You touch his cheek gently. “You okay?”

He’s not. “‘M fine.”

“Would you stay with me?” you ask him. “Theoretically. If the world ended tomorrow?”

That cracks a smile on his face, though it’s light. “Sure I would. Theoretically.” The sun always felt nice on his face.

Your skin was even nicer against his. You rest against his shoulder, and he leans his head to press his ear to the side of your face.

“If my metal body’s good for anythin’, I’d try to shield you from the blast.”

You snort. “I appreciate it, though I don’t think even a cyborg can withstand the sun exploding.” You reach up and pet his hair. The white strands pool along your fingertips like running water.

He leans into your touch. “Still. I gots ta try.”

You sigh and flick his forehead lightly. “All theoretical, Boothill.”

The cowboy hums, and you feel it ripple across your skin like waves. “Course.”

“Hopefully the world doesn't end tomorrow,” you add. “You still haven’t taught me how to play the guitar.”

Boothill turns his head so his nose presses to the side of your face. Although his skin is cold, you feel warm and fuzzy. “Even if the world ends, I’d be happy right here.” He reaches down and pats your lap firmly.

He feels your face heat up and you groan. “You’re terrible.”

His cold lips press to your temple and he snickers. “You like it.”

[luveline]

Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff 🥰🥰

ty for requesting!! fem

You’re texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isn’t one you’ve ever been scared of. “Fuck, Aaron, you scared me,” you say with a nervous laugh. 

He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. “Sorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.”

“Oh, you took care,” you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. “I was in my own world.” 

“I thought we talked about you coming outside alone.”

“Did we?” you ask, the short wall you’re sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I can’t seem to remember any such talk.” 

“Mm.” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember that?” 

“Don’t recall, no.”

“So you also won’t remember the conversation we had about flowers.” 

Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. He’d given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You aren’t the kind of girl who gets flowers. 

What’s wrong? he’d asked. 

You’d held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried he’d take them away, though you’re almost positive he’s incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid? 

Of course you don’t. 

There hadn’t been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and he’d asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencer’s nice, handsome boss doesn’t just think you’re pretty, he likes you, you’d said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like. 

Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. They’re beautiful, and far too many. 

“Are they really for me?” you ask. You’ve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. It’s a wonder they fit behind his back. 

The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. “That depends,” he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, “are they nice enough?” 

“They’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen.” You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You can’t not want them. 

He hands them off to you. 

It must be weird for him to meet you like this. He’s very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesn’t make much sense for him to fall for you. You’re younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadn’t understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. He’s bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that you’re in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasn’t looked at your body once. 

“I was just texting you,” you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar. 

Aaron’s phone immediately pings. 

He reads it quickly. It isn’t a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight? 

If he’d said yes or no didn’t matter, because you’d just wanted to talk to him, and here he is. 

He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out. 

He’s still smiling as he pulls away. “Are you hungry?” he asks softly. 

“So hungry.” 

“We can get anything you want.” 

“Really? What if I want the same as last time?” 

It had been expensive and you’d felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesn’t baulk. “Anything you want… You may need to wear my jacket, though. I don’t think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.” 

You push the flowers just under his nose. “Funny.”

[tojivu]

bite me ❤︎ ! ⋆ jjk men

an. my first multichar work !

cw. hickeys/lovebites with gojo, geto, toji, nanami + the terrible aftermath. suggestive, otherwise quite sfw. f!reader. suguru isn't a curse user.

playing. bite me by enhypen.

GOJO SATORU is a cocky fucking bastard. just 12 hours ago, he had you wrapped around his finger — quite literally, as well — and his lips were practically superglued to the delicate skin of your neck and collarbones. it didn't occur to you, though, that your boyfriend didn't have the weekend off; after all, he did tell you he was going to be home the entirety of it.

well, you should've known that satoru would do anything to have his way with you — a little white lie, that's what he tells himself — but he had to admit that he couldn't think very straight, otherwise, he wouldn't have let you leave so many.

it's 11 in the morning when you receive a text from shoko. you can hear the disgusted yet unsurprised tone through the pixels, asking you why your boyfriend was sporting roughly 4 — yes, they were so obvious that she could count — patches of purple on his neck and jawline.

shoko: satoru looks like he got in a fight with a leech lol

when satoru comes home, the mortified feeling intensifies by tenfold — they're much more obvious in real life. the colour has faded a little, but hickeys are still hickeys, and your boyfriend is still an imbecile.

"what?"

"you have no shame," you turn your head away from the man standing at the entryway of your shared home, and back to the television. "you said you were gonna be home. you left before i woke up—"

"important jujutsu stuff," satoru interrupts. he takes his blindfold off, quick footsteps as he makes his way to the couch. your arms are folded together, an attempt to show satoru that you were upset. "couldn't be helped, baby. 'm sorry."

you turn your head towards him, eyebrows furrowed when you realise your boyfriend doesn't care one bit — he thinks there's nothing wrong with people knowing he's unavailable, and even more so when you're the reason.

"can you at least use some of my foundation?"

────────────────────────

GETO SUGURU has a little bit of dignity, but the collar of his shirt is a little too low to be coincidental. he secretly loves it whenever his friends ask about it, tease him about finally having a girl when he's been alone for so long.

it's a friday afternoon when he's at the gym getting his daily workouts in, and his cheeks flush when satoru nudges his bicep and lets a hearty laugh out; "aw, suguru's gotten busy, huh? this why you didn't turn up yesterday?"

suguru groans and tells satoru to shut the fuck up, but there's no denying that he was in fact busy. nevertheless, of course suguru had decorum; he covered himself up in front of the public and his family, but he really couldn't care less if his closest friends knew about what he was up to.

besides, his neck wasn't as bad as yours — he could only feel guilty as he watched you paint colour corrector and various shades of concealer on your neck, even doing the chilled spoon method; eventually giving up and settling for a scarf when they don't do the trick.

"i didn't know you were going out today," he says from the bed as you sit across the room at your mirror. "i fucked up."

"'s okay, sugu!" you smile reassuringly, contrasting the worried look on your face that spells it out for him — the sweet tone of your voice only makes suguru feel worse. "the scarf will work fine."

"i'm still sorry, baby. really."

he really isn't. but the guilt makes up for it, he thinks; he only hopes your mother doesn't catch a peek of the purple hiding beneath the fabric.

────────────────────────

TOJI FUSHIGURO also does not give two fucks. this man could leave the house absolutely littered in bite marks from your pearly whites — he loves looking at himself in the mirror in the morning, when you're still fast asleep, just admiring the artwork that is his body and the proof of the love you have for him on it.

this wasn't the case with the girls he used to mess around with, though. he absolutely loathed having any evidence of a woman on him, whether that be the scent of her perfume lingering on his clothes or in his apartment — or her messages appearing on his lock screen and his friends asking about it.

yet, it's different with you; but he supposes everything has been different with you. he thinks he's serious this time, about the relationship you two have — and he wants everyone to know that too, though he'll never say that out loud.

"tojiii?" you whine, arms stretching out as your eyes adjust to the sunlight that pours into the bedroom. you turn to his side of the bed, and you're not surprised when he isn't there — it's ironic. the first time you woke up in bed alone after a night with toji, you panicked and thought that he disappeared.

it's just then that your lover opens the door, duffle bag slung around his shoulder diagonally; his right shoulder hits the doorframe, almost fitting the entire width, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks when you see the hickeys on his neck.

you use your arms to push yourself up, sitting cross-legged on the sheets. "did you go out like that?"

"like what, princess?"

you smile at the name, but your lips don't part to answer — toji knows you know, but it's annoying how he acts so natural about it. he sets his bag down and his strong arms wrap around you, picking you up as if you're light as paper.

"show off," you mutter against the crook of his neck. "you need to start wearing hoodies to the gym."

toji catches a whiff of your scent and thinks you're dense for saying such a thing — he is finally proud to have someone by his side, so he might as well let everyone else know. he has to.

"not happening."

────────────────────────

NANAMI KENTO does cover up, but he wouldn't mind if someone saw them. he's very mature about it, really — not embarrassed in the slightest. after all, you were his wife and he was your husband. things are bound to happen between you two behind closed doors.

that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to conceal them, though. he asks to use your makeup to hide them — only to be fucked over when your shades don't match all too well. it's only then that he lets an exasperated sigh leave his lips, and you feel a hundred times guiltier.

"i'm sorry, kento," you bite down on your bottom lip out of worry. "maybe we can use the spoon?"

he shakes his head. nanami was running late, and he had to leave immediately.

"it's okay, darling," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "yaga won't be upset."

you knew gojo would tease him endlessly, and you also knew that nanami couldn't stand him. you almost tell him to stay home for a little longer so you can figure out a way to fix this.

"it's nothing to be ashamed of. we're adults," he reminds you, as if the events of last night and the evidence of said events do not. "i'll see you when i'm home?"

you sigh, middle and thumb fingers rubbing your temples. if only you were thinking straight — but you knew that was almost always impossible with kento. "okay. have a good day at work, ken."

kento plants one more kiss on your lips, and he has to pull himself away before another second passes; he always had trouble stopping himself with you.

he supposes that habit has come to bite him in the ass, now.

"thank you, sweetheart. i will."

yeah, gojo will never let him live this down.

280124 — is this ooc.

[dottiro]

Lethal Pursuer

Unreliable summary:  You’re at a club with friends when you meet Ajax—a charming ginger, whose company you’re starting to enjoy. // When your friends abandon you without a way home, Ajax offers you to stay at his place until your friends pick you up. Warnings: Yandere, clubbing, mentions of alcohol, being drugged, kidnapping, GN reader. Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog. Big thanks to @teabutmakeitazure for encouraging me with the emojis and comments on my doc <3

Over the sound of music, a voice calls out to you. 

“What’s your name?” 

When you turn around, the colourful lights that spin around the club hit a stranger's face. Freckles that were previously hidden appear on the bridge of his nose, creating constellations on his skin before they fade when the lights move.

I’m Y/n. You?”

A pair of dull blue eyes are locked on you. With a boyish smile, the stranger watches you sway to the beats of music echoing around the club. 

“I’m Ajax.” He answers as he brushes the ginger hair that had fallen before his eyes. With inspecting eyes you notice a streak of lighter hair amongst his untamed locks.

To your surprise, the name is native to Snezhnaya. However, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unusual clothing and tanning—which are uncommon. 

“You’re a local?”  

When he tilts his head towards the side, you move closer, repeating your question.

“Morepesok.” His leg bounces unmatched to the beat of the music. With him leaning in closer, you feel the strands of his hair brush against your cheek. “I grew up there. It’s a seaside village. Though, recently, I’ve been spending my days in the capital.” 

You repeat his answer in your mind. Morepesok… it sounds familiar.

Ajax leans back, a charming smile spreading along his cheeks as he points at you. Through the sounds of music, you’re unable to hear him. 

When he repeats it, you focus on the way his lips part and you understand his words; 

‘You?’

You entered the club with friends a few hours before your quid-pro-quo with Ajax. It was a Friday that had lasted an eternity, and once you were cleared from your duties, you decided through text to go clubbing. That way, you could catch up while simultaneously destressing over drinks. 

Then, after assigning your designated driver for the night, the alcohol did the rest. 

With your friends on the dancefloor, some alcohol buzzing through your body, and the loud music; you were able to forget the stress that had accumulated over the past weeks.

Soon, you found yourself an admirer. Then, a free drink. Then…

“Another one?” You say with a hint of a joke as Ajax approaches—again. 

A mischievous smile forms on his lips. He swirls the cup in his left hand while bringing the other to his lips. He teases you. “Don’t tell me, you’re a lightweight?”

You roll your eyes at him.

It’s been a while since you’ve strayed from your friends and found company in your stranger. Though, you suppose ‘strangers’ is no longer the right word for him.

Ajax hands you the cup from his left hand. “You seem tired. Did you have a long day?” 

“Yes, but I’m not ready to go home yet.” You take the drink to your lips and let the liquid slide past your lips.  

Ajax’s eyes strain when he forces them to move from yours. Between looks, he scans the area. Eventually, he finds a place and gestures his head to the bar. “Need a break? I can search for your friends while you’ll take a rest.”

His offering solidifies that his act of tonight has been genuine. 

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I know you’ll keep me company, right?”

“I’d be offended if you’d assume otherwise.” He places his hands on his hips. A dramatic huff escapes his lips, but you catch the corner of his lip curling into a cheeky smile. 

Escaping your problems only works for a short while. Before long, no matter how hard you run, you’re confronted with them again. As much as you love to hang out with your friends—to dance the night away with Ajax, you’ve grown tired of the music and the happy faces, knowing it’s all temporary. 

Yet, you hang on as tightly as possible. 

Under the colourful lights, you share a brief, knowing, glance; a silent whisper to each other, hoping the night would last for just a while longer. 

As you head toward the bar together, the lively atmosphere of the club wraps around you. With most people on the dancefloor and away from the seats, finding a place isolated from the crowd takes no effort. 

Settling into a darker corner of the bar, you take a deep breath. Here, the noise of the music and people seems to fade, giving you a sense of privacy amidst the chaos. 

Those dark blue eyes meet yours again. This time, the recognition in them speaks volumes. 

“So, Ajax.” You emphasise his name, letting the two vowels slur into each other. “What do you do?”

Despite the music being in the background, he furrows his eyebrows and hesitates. With the lack of dancing lights, you can’t grasp the emotion in his eyes. Darkness has cast a shadow over you, making you huddle up to him. 

Believing he didn’t hear you, you specify; “Your work?”

The ginger leans back, then forces a smile, and finally raises an eyebrow. “I do a bit of everything, I guess.”

He’s leaning closer again. The smell of his cologne makes you feel dizzy.

Playfully you roll your eyes. The drinks you’ve drank have made you bolder. “Come on, tell me! You can’t say that without expecting me to be curious.”

“Okay, so, I’m serious. Please don’t laugh.” His finger mindlessly caresses the rim of the empty glass on the table. Then, with a look of despair, Childe answers with the unexpected. “I'm a toyseller.”

You put your hand up to your mouth to hide a smile. His answer, not to mention the buildup, makes you unable to hide your chuckle. The thought of him surrounded by stuffed bears and wooden cars creeps into your mind. While it’s a cute scenario, it seems silly when he is physically built to win battles.  

Carefully, you remove your hands, revealing a broad smile. “No way. You’re kidding.” 

He bashfully smiles and gives a light shrug. “What, you don’t think I’m capable enough? I’ll have you know that my little brother says I’m the best toymaker in Teyvat.”

“You also make them?” 

He crosses his arms, leaning forward like you did moments ago, his voice whispering in your ear.  “Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

Your cheeks warm up and you’re grateful for the darkness. “Me? Well…”

Something about his playful yet clumsy attitude leaves you entranced, easing you to open up to him—something that normally doesn't come easy.

“I might've teased you, but at least your life sounds entertaining. My job is hardly anything to boast about. Sure, it brings money, but I hardly get time off and my boss is an uptight prick who thinks he’s above everyone else.”

There is a short silence before you continue,

“At least I can say I’ve decided to chase my dreams. Despite ending up with an ordinary life, I’ve at least escaped my hometown.”

Ajax frowns. “What about your boss?” He spreads his legs further, becoming more intruding physically and in conversation as he unknowingly presses the subject. “Why? Is he giving you any problems?”

You shrug. “It's not like he picks on me specifically. He's the kind of person that can't be pleased, no matter how perfect one might be.”

A silence falls over your perfect stranger.

You try to lighten the air. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight has made me forget all about it. In the end, it’s just work.”

“Yeah,” He forces a smile that fails to hide his frustration with the topic. “Just work.”

“Take it like this; if he didn’t give me such a rough workload, I likely wouldn’t have gone clubbing tonight, which means I would’ve missed meeting you.” You push your elbow against his arm. “So for all the things he does wrong, he did one thing right.”

In the background, you hear the energetic lyrics and melody from the songs. You turn your eyes towards the crowd and fail to see any of your friends.

For the first time since Ajax approached you, you decide to check your phone.

Lockscreen— time: 1:03.

6 missed calls, 99+ unread messages.

What? Is it this late already?

You stand abruptly, leaving your drink unfinished with Ajax. Your eyes fly over the notifications, reading the messages you’ve missed—starting from the first at 21:42 to the last sent at 00:46.

In your group chat, many missed messages cheer for the night. 

It starts with a few videos of you and your friends dancing, still together at the start of the night. Then, after an hour, wishes for you and the ‘hot ginger’ to have a ‘safe’ night start. Between the teases, you capture a picture of you and him talking on the dancefloor, still having fun. Then, more pictures and conversations with your drunk friends follow. Until, finally, the message; ‘We went back home, if you need a ride, call us.’

You feel your heart sink to the bottom of your toes. 

There is no doubt that your friends are good people. They mean well, meant well, but a feeling of betrayal slithers through the cracks of your love for them. It makes you feel guilty, yet angry with them.

In frustration, you swipe away the notifications for the missed calls. 

“Are you alright?” Ajax’s voice is next to you when he speaks. You instinctively turn off your phone and face him. Quickly, he holds up his arms, giving you space. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, that’s not—” You frown. “I didn’t mean to cut our conversation off. I was surprised by the time.” 

Ajax lowers his hands to his sides and tries to comfort you. “Did anything happen?”

You close your eyes. Your words come out mangled and wrong. “I think I’m going to go out for a moment. I just saw that my friends left the club without me and I need to call them, or else they’ll pass out and I’ll have no ride home.”

Already a step ahead, Ajax puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. With one arm, he hands you your jacket which went forgotten by you. 

“Will you be alright, Y/n?” 

A lump forms in your throat and you purse your lips to keep yourself grounded.

Bright lights in many shades hit the side of Ajax’s face, bringing forward his best features, not to mention a strong determined expression. During the night he has in no way forced himself on you, and you consider your choices. 

Either you can call your friends and hope for the best as you wait alone outside the club; which will be cold, dark, and uncomfortable for many more reasons. Not to mention that there is no guarantee your friends won't be passed out—they might not pick up. Worst case scenario: you’ll be stranded for the night.

Or (and this option is preferable), you can call your friends and ask Ajax to wait with you. Worst case scenario: he turns out to be a creep and you’ll have to retreat into the club.

You flash your eyes to him once more, finding nothing in them. 

Eventually, you decide to let go of your doubt. While it’s not a ride home, Ajax would be at your side, willing to stay there if you’d ask. 

You really need to ask for his number before the night ends. 

Your fingers subconsciously fiddle with the case of your phone, finding comfort in the repeating motion. “Is it alright if you could stay by my side until I find my friends?” Your eyes dart to the crowd, then back at him. “I’m not in the mood to be bothered by some creep.”

“Of course, I get that.” The lights have left him and his expression is left in the void again. You can guess from his tone he is trying to lighten the mood with a joke. With a puffed-out chest, he bows down slightly. “Tonight, I’ll be your loyal knight.”

The lights and people blur into one mass. Since he’s taller and broader, you follow Ajax’s lead as he paves a way through the crowd, helping you avoid bumping into distracted or drunk clubbers.

When he opens the doors and you step outside, the harsh Snezhnayan breeze hits your face, making your mind clearer within a moment.

“Huh, it seems like most people have already left.” Ajax lets the door fall behind him as he looks around the area. “There are hardly any people left.”

Clinging onto your jacket, you resist a shiver from the cold. “Compared to the club, even Our Majesty’s palace can be considered empty.”

He turns around. “Let’s go to the side. We wouldn’t want to block the exit for any drunk people.”

Compared to the space you have just left, the abandoned streets in Snezhnaya are as silent as a graveyard. Only a few people linger around; either sitting in the snow against the buildings or smoking in a group. 

Snowflakes from the night sky dance down, falling on your head and melting against your skin. Tonight’s clouds are broken apart and far from each other. When you look up, you can see the stars in the sky.

“What happened?” Childe asks as he guides you through the snow. 

“With my friends?” He nods. “I think they misunderstood the situation. Jumped to conclusions and decided they knew what was fact before I could respond.” 

“I can’t defend them, but I know they must be good people if they’re your friends.” Childe kicks the snow in front of his feet. His hands are in his pocket and a puff of air escapes his lips. “Try to stay calm. I’m sure they’re waiting for your call.”

You stop at the corner of the club. On your phone, you click open the group app’s information to reveal the contacts of everyone. Without much hesitation, you open the number of your designated driver—and supposedly the only one sober. 

When you push the call button, Ajax takes a few steps back to give you privacy. 

After a few long moments, you reach voicemail. 

“You good over there?” When you look at Childe, he also has a phone in hand. His lower back is leaning onto the side of the building, watching you pace back and forth on the pavement.

“Yeah, but it went to voicemail.” You focus on your phone again. “I’ll try someone else.”

With haste, you dial the next friend. They’re not sober but knowing how often they look on their phone, they’re likely to pick up.

Unfortunately, again; voicemail.

You frown and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach grows bigger. The last text message had been 30 minutes ago. They should be home by now.

“Nothing?”

You look up at Ajax. Once again, you shake your head. 

“Hey, it’s okay. If you want we can go back inside and wait till they call back?” Ajax puts his phone in his pocket and walks up to you. When he’s at your side he puts a hand on the small of your back, rubbing it back and forth to bring you warmth.

You put your hands in your hair and walk away from him, only to pace back. “I’m just worried something has happened. This sucks, but it’s so unlike them. I can’t imagine them leaving me behind in a club like this.”

“I…” He hesitates, “I might not have a car to drive you home, but if you’re comfortable enough, I live nearby. You can send my address to your friends and crash there until they call. Only if you want to, of course. I can wait with you in the club if you'd rather.”

Your first instinct is to reject him and to continue calling, trusting your friends will pick up eventually. Then, you realise you’re too drunk to find help elsewhere, lest you’d want to trust the bartenders who have their hands full and will have you crash in the back of the club without surveillance. 

And on your face, these thoughts must come through, because Ajax shakes his hands before him. “Just an offering. A stupid one, maybe. But a genuine one. Again, if you’d prefer, I can wait with you here. I thought you might consider something else because you’ve been swaying for a while now.”

Through his rushed words, you realise your options are narrowing down. Could you walk home? Are you drunk to the point where you’re unable to stand? A warm home to wait in does sound nice… 

Plus, Ajax is nice, right? 

The headache that’s been looming over you intensifies.

“Okay, but let me message your address to my friends first. So, they know where to pick me up, ” 

Snowflakes from the sky twirl down until they land on the ground. 

Patiently, he watches you open the location app. Then, when you ask for it, he tells you his address—which is close to the club as promised. The soles of his shoes tap against the pavement as he watches the brightness of your screen flash. —You’ve sent it to your friends. 

You turn off your phone and drop it in your pocket once you’re done. 

“I just wanted to say this out loud so you can’t say I’m leading you on, but I’m only joining you to wait until my friends can pick me up. That’s alright, right?”

Childe doesn’t miss the hesitation in your eyes when you look at him. 

Deep inside, hidden in an abyss, he wants to tear away all your doubts and carve his name for you to trust. Deep inside, he hopes you know he’d conquer the world in your name—if only you’d let him. 

Then, as soon as it comes, it leaves. Ajax gives you a boyish grin. “Of course. It’d hardly be justified if I were to leave you abandoned here, so it’s the least I can do.”

The sound of his carefree voice is enough to make that warm feeling return, and for a split second, you believe you saw the stars reflected in his eyes. Though, it must’ve been the lighting, because when the shadows fall upon him again, it fades away.

Before you walk out of the street, Childe puts one of his arms out with a playful wink.

You intertwine yours around it. 

The streets are empty and dark, but silence does not fill them in Ajax’s presence. 

Noticing your stress early on, he asks silly questions to bring your mind away from negative thoughts, returning you to the start of the night; enjoying his presence, and feeling light. 

Innocent questions; ‘Hey, what’s your favourite colour?’, teasing ones; ‘Got an eye on anyone at the moment?’, and serious follow;

“You should get better friends. What would’ve happened if you were all alone? It’s concerning no one called back.” 

The streetlights set for a sober mood. Empty streets, dark homes and a dimly lit sidewalk.

You frown at the pavement below your feet.

“They didn’t abandon me. They assumed I went home with you and then decided to leave themselves.”

A chuckle leaves his lips and he turns his head to you with a tilt. “You didn’t strike me as someone who’d go home with some guy from the club.”

“I don’t,” You trip over your words, not wanting to offend Ajax. “Well, not normally.” 

“If you want, we can always return to the club. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had walked a while with the world swaying from side to side. A few more houses and you’d be at his home, yet he offers to take return if you feel uncomfortable. 

He is almost too nice. 

“No, I’m alright.” You smile before frowning. “I guess I’m a bit worried though.”

“About your friends?”

You nod. “The situation feels off.”

You’re unsure why it does.

On your side, Ajax stares straight ahead. He gestures forward. “My home is at the end of this street. I don’t have a car, but I can call a friend in the morning to drive you home. It’s only a few more hours till sunrise. Think you can hold out for a bit longer?”

You smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that. And—” You shake your hands in front of you and an awkward laugh escapes your lips. “I’m sorry about this mess.”

He shrugs. “I had no reason to stay in the club, at least, until I saw you. Once you were stranded, I knew I could offer help, so I did. There is nothing more to it.” 

“Were you not with friends though?” You raise an eyebrow at the thought of someone coming to the club alone. Though, perhaps, that’s your prejudices talking.

“I know the owner of the club. He sometimes bartends himself, though—lucky for you, he didn’t have a shift today, so I was fortunate to have spotted you.”

He cuts himself off and turns his hand towards a house towards the right, stopping in front of it with a smile. If this is his home, it’s surprisingly ordinary. Hidden amongst other houses, it goes unnoticed. There are no decorations in front of the windows, nothing at all.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Childe says dramatically while he jokingly bows. “It’s nothing big—, but we all have to start somewhere, right?”

He grabs a single key from his pockets. There’s no charm attached, no other keys. 

As weird as it looks, you don’t comment on it.

With a twist of his wrist, Ajax opens the door, holding it and gesturing for you to come in. 

“Feel free to leave your jacket anywhere, shoes too if they bother you.” He throws you a smile over his shoulder as he walks further into the house. You hear him exclaim, “Mi casa, es tu casa.”

Before you enter the place, you check your phone once more. 

No new messages or missed calls. Angrily you send a message, updating and explaining you’ll get a ride from one of his friends if yours keeps ignoring you. 

In another one, you send a few crying emojis, followed by a single angry one.

Once some of your embarrassment is thrown at your friends, you put the phone in your pocket and close the door when you walk in. 

The hallway leading up further into the house is dimly lit. On the side, a set of stairs goes up, indicating another level, as you assumed from the height outside. The walls are painted a cream colour and are devoid of any hanging decorations. You see a set of formal shoes tucked underneath a chest of drawers.

When you walk along the hallway, you notice under the stairs another door—possibly leading up to an attic, although, that’s speculation. Then, at the end of the hallway, a bright light shines through the cracks of the door Ajax had entered.

When you enter the living room you see him fly around in the kitchen. It’s nothing grand and fairly empty compared to your living arrangement, although in theme with the bland hallway. 

You realise he must spend the majority of his time away from home—using the house only to sleep and eat in.

“Here,” Tartaglia turns around with a glass of water, followed by a white pill in his other hand. “You mentioned you were feeling unwell so I thought a painkiller would help you settle down.”

With a smile and a thank you, you accept the offer; downing the pill and water nearly instantly. After you place the empty glass on the kitchen table, you feel drowsiness kick in. You shrug it off to exhaustion.

“Feel free to look around.” Childe walks by you. “It’s past midnight so all the good TV programs are gone, but if you’re interested in commercials, feel free to turn it on.”

“You’re still on cable?” You look at the bulky television which contradicts his brand-new still-sparkling phone. 

Childe looks at the bulky box with you. “What? Not standard?”

“No way.”

Your eyes move to the other things in the living room. Closer to the window and facing the television, two small sofas stand coated in dust. A small rounded table divides them, giving enough room to walk in front of the television to reach the window, and possibly, the thick curtains. 

Gently, you place your jacket over one of the sofas before wandering further.

Placed against the wall is a single bookshelf. It’s filled with many books, related to classical literature or military topics—something you didn’t expect but don’t judge upon. Further, you notice the thin layer of dust, making the clean picture frames stand out.

“Are these your siblings?”

You grab the picture in your hands and lift it closer. A young boy, with the same ginger-coloured hair, smiles into the lens. His eyes are open and noticeably brighter than Ajax’s. Next to him is a girl with similar features, longer hair, and the same smile—although her eyes are closed instead. 

Behind the two children stands Ajax wearing formal clothes. 

Military? No, different.

Childe hums as he approaches you. “Yes, Teucer and Tonia. Though, they’ve both grown significantly since this picture was taken. I have a few older siblings as well.” 

He reaches for another picture frame, set higher. After brushing his finger against the glass he shows it to you. “Here are the others.”

With slow movements, you take the picture frame from his hands. Your fingers move across the picture. He’s much smaller here, but it’s still undoubtedly Ajax.

“You seem so… happy.”

“I was much younger then. Teucer was still a baby so should’ve been, what, twelve?”

After committing the picture to memory, you place them in their original spots. 

When you move to place the higher picture, your head spins. Fortunately, you quickly rebalance yourself. 

With a few harsh blinks, you’re able to ease the spinning. You quickly take another picture frame to distract yourself. 

After a quick look, you realise this picture seems different.

“Who’s this? Teucer?”

Ajax shakes his head. “No. That’s me.”

The ginger in the picture has the same spread of freckles Ajax does. His hair is in the same wild style as he wears it now, but he misses the streak of white. 

Another thing you can’t help but notice is the difference in his smile. 

There is no doubt that Ajax had fun tonight, but his smile never lit up to the smile of this smaller boy. 

In the picture, at his side, you see a child of the same age. 

Even from this picture, it is safe to assume that Ajax was social, if not sometimes obnoxious, when younger. In comparison, this child seems more shy and reclusive. Their head is turned away and you can’t make out their appearance, except for their hair colour. 

You point your finger towards the figure. “And this?” 

While brushing your finger over the glass, you wonder how the two met. Were they no longer friends? Is this the only picture he has of them?

Ajax is silent. 

He mumbles something under his breath. 

When you hum in confusion, he speaks louder.

“You don’t remember?”

You turn your gaze up to him. Your mind remains unsteady and you feel your vision blur again. Like last time, you try to force it away. However, this time you fail and lose your balance.

When you try to break your fall by stepping backwards, you lose all your strength in your legs. You feel them shake as the world spins back, your vision turning from the books on the shelves to the stained ceiling. 

With a loud crash, the frame falls to the ground, breaking beyond repair by the sounds of it. 

Your crash, however, does not happen. 

“▓re yo▒ alr▓▒ht?” 

When your eyes flutter open, you are met with Ajax’s blue eyes. His arms are around you, one supporting your back, and the other wrapped around you to keep you steady on your weak limbs. 

“...what?”

His voice blurs in and out. 

You’re only able to make out mumbles. 

You barely register moving to the sofa.

You do however clearly hear your ringtone. 

Gathering any strength you have left, you reach for your pocket, instinctively moving to accept the call.

With a slurred voice you answer, “Hello?”

“Y/░. Li▒▒▓n, y░u ne▓d to ▓et aw░y Rig▓t. ▓ow.”

You blink a few times. “...what?”

“▒e’s o▒▓ of the H▓rbi▒gers, the Fatui—“

Th▒ phone call ends ▓bruptly. 

The phone ▓s taken fr▒m your hands. 

You friends—

Thoughts r▒ce into your m▒nd. 

D▓d you hear it c▓rrectly? Fat▒i? ▓re your fri▓nds in d▓ng▓r? Did you h░t yo░r he▓d? W░y is ▒v▒ryt▓▓ng f▓d▒ng?

Y▓u se▓ ▓ sp▓t of ░r░nge-br▒wn, bl▓░, ░nd g▓▓y m▓v▓ int░ y▒ur v░s▓▒n, ▓nd th░▒—

“Goodnight.”

You wake up surrounded by blankets and pillows. The bed you wake in is foreign. So is the harsh light that peaks out from between the cracks of the curtains. Your head continues to hurt, but after remembering the loud music from last night, you don’t blame it. 

Once the initial fear of an unknown place fades away, you can deduct what has happened.

This must be Ajax’s room…

The king-sized pencil post bed is filled with blankets and warmth. On each side is a nightstand with a lamp. The closest to you has a glass of water. The other is empty. 

When you step out of bed, you notice a sudden drop in temperature, although it’s not unexpected. Without any other sounds, the breeze coming in from the window is quite loud. Since there is no sign of Ajax in this room, you assume he must’ve slept on the couch, forgetting to close the window during the night as a result. 

A chill falls over you, but there is no harm in it. 

You’re grateful for Ajax allowing you to sleep in his bed. 

With your arms wrapped around you, you approach the window—feeling like closing the windows now might help Ajax later. But, when you open the curtains to close it for him, you’re met with something… astonishing. 

An abundance of white stretches in front of the house. It is undisturbed by footsteps from passing strangers or animals, creating a serene picture with the help of the treeline made from tall pines. Unlike what you remember, it seems as if you’re on the ground floor of the building, on an equal level to the world outside.

If you didn’t know better, you’d believe you were in the middle of a forest.

But… you aren’t. 

You turn around, moving to the window on the other side of the room. When you open the curtains, you’re met with the same sight. Snow and trees. Your eyes confirm this is real, but your mind can’t grasp how it could be. You move your head around, seeing if you can catch any clues in the corner of your vision.

There are no forests anywhere near the club. Not within walking distance, and only miles outside of the capital. 

Where are you?

Snowflakes catch on the outside of the window, and you decide to close it. 

Further in the room, you notice a set of wardrobes. Like the other furniture, the room seems divided into two. Two nightstands, two wardrobes, two windows…

After a few helpless spins and trying to grasp your mind around the current situation, you decide to test your luck by searching around. 

First, you try to open the wardrobe to the right. 

You twist the round door handle, but it doesn’t bulge. When you try the other, it opens. 

The inside seems normal. Ajax’s clothes are all neatly folded or hung. You see a variety of outfits for different occasions. Some are more casual, though you see suits as well. 

You lift a few piles of shirts, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

With a sigh, you close the door. 

A wardrobe full of clothes. So much for answers.

You turn back around and try the same for the nightstands. You find a single toothbrush, an unused brush, and a small mirror inside the nightstand on the right—the side you woke up from.

The other nightstand is more peculiar. 

Inside the drawer, you find a letter addressed to “Ajax”. The handwriting is clumsy as if a child had written it. When you turn it around, you see signs of ageing despite it being preserved well. 

Without any words, you deduct that this item is of great importance to him. 

With a hint of guilt, you put it back amongst the handful of other letters. 

Then, the only door left is the one leading outside. 

You cross the room, and once opened, you are met by a short hallway. The walls and floors are made from sturdy wood, like the bedroom you exited. The thought of being inside a cabin crosses your mind for a second. 

Quietly, you close the door behind you before continuing. 

Unlike what you remember, this house appears to be a one-floor building. There are no stairways leading down, and the place has many windows allowing you to see the forest surrounding you and bringing in natural light. 

When the hallway ends and connects to a large living room, you see Ajax on the couch asleep. 

And given your lack of knowledge on how you ended up here, you decide it’s lucky that your presence goes unnoticed. 

Your eyes graze over the living room. It is cosy—homey in many ways. Unlike the bookshelves you remember, these are filled with novels and stories from your childhood; fairytales, romance novels, fantasies, and nearly every other genre you can imagine. 

A large square carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk closer to the large table in the middle of the room. Thrown over the back of one of the chairs is your jacket, at its feet; your shoes, and in front of it on the table…

Your phone. 

You turn your head to Ajax. He hasn’t moved since you walked into the room. He is still asleep. 

Carefully you walk closer. 

Unlike what the situation makes you expect to have happened, your phone remains as you remember. It has a low battery percentage but can survive for at least a few more hours if you turn on saving mode. 

You open your messages. 

○ Has anyone heard from Y/n? ○ Not since last night. I heard someone had a run-in with the Fatui, what was that about? ○ Yeah, I heard that too. Can everyone reply ASAP?? ○ I told you to keep an eye out for each other. How do 4 people go missing in one night? ○ Do we file a report? Like, for missing people? ○ File a report??? To whom? The Fatui??

You scroll down, reaching the most recent message in the early morning. When you type a short sos, it goes undelivered. When you try again, you’re met with the same outcome.

There is no available internet. 

It seems you’re too far from civilisation to have access to a network. 

And finally, you try to call. 

The entire service has been cut. 

This makes you panic. Rightfully so. With a quick look out of the windows, you’re met with the sight of the forest taunting you. You’re in an unfamiliar place and your memories do not add up to the current situation.

You turn around to check up on Ajax.

“Your phone won’t work here.”

He sits upright on the couch. A strand of hair sticks out. He really had been asleep, and somehow, you had woken him up. 

He adds, “I’ve got cable TV, though.”

His voice isn’t laced with much of anything. There are no signs of exhaustion or sleep, no emotions either. 

He is clear of mind; as if everything is normal—expected.

You narrow your eyes and your mouth gapes open. A whisper falls out of you. “...what?”

Ajax lets his head hang. A troubled sigh escapes his lips before he stands up. 

In response, you take a step back. 

He stops for a moment. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The snappy tone in his voice puts you on edge. 

In turn, you react similarly. 

“Then what is going on? Where are we?” 

“I suppose you weren’t lying.” He circles the couch, coming into full view to face you. “You did forget me.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Sit with me, please.” Ajax sits back down, patting the place next to him as he looks back at you.

You move your eyes from him to the couch. There is no malice in his words. With no one to call out to, you feel as if the best move is to be compliant for as long as he remains kind. 

You sit on the place furthest away from him. 

“Do you know how hard it is to find someone without a name or information? Ever since I grew strong enough to search, for years… I’ve been trying to find you.”

A broken picture frame lies on the low table near the couch. On top of it, is a picture you vaguely remember from last night. 

Childe lets a chuckle escape his lips. He is desperate, clinging onto hope for you to believe him. “You can’t remember?”

“Ajax…” You shake your head, and he tries to cut you off. “I do not know you. I don’t know where I am or how I got here, but I would appreciate it if you’d bring me back, now.”

Childe scooches closer, leaning forward and reaching for you. “It’s fine, I’m not upset. I’m sure you’ll remember me if we talk a bit more. After all, last night was like all those years ago. Surely you remember how much fun we had as kids? During the winters when my family would visit your town, you’d always seek me out.”

You pull away, and a serious expression falls upon his face, something that’s unlike him—something foul. 

“Stop that. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Can you promise that?” You narrow your eyes at him before diverting your eyes. His eyes are too empty. Ajax has nothing to give, nothing but a mask made of lies. “I don’t know where I am or what happened, you refuse to tell me what’s going on, and I don’t trust you.”

“But you should.”

A cold silence falls into the room.

“I missed you. And I know you don’t, but you will.” 

He says it in such a gentle voice, you’re unsure what to make of it. 

Inch by inch, he comes closer until you’re sitting side by side. 

Ajax wraps his arms around you, and you let him.

He’s unable to bring any comfort when tears escape your eyes.

Confused. 

Scared. 

ㅤ

A broken picture frame lies on the low table near the couch. 

On top of it, is a picture of a young Ajax and a child with the same hair colour as you.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡