#fic: be not afraid behold

[tozettastone]

I know I've been posting about other stuff today, but I've actually been working on the SPN Sabriel fic: 'Be Not Afraid, Behold'.

here's a little bit from the start of the next chapter:

-----

Sam woke with a jolt.

"You okay?" Dean asked, only halfway paying attention to the road that rose endlessly on ahead of them. Its sinuous shape snaked behind them, too, a long stretch of black asphalt that drifted off into the horizon, swallowed by a greenish mass of forest in the distance. There wasn't a lot on either side, and the only other vehicles were freight.

"Um," said Sam, squinting. The impala was a familiar rumble around him. He sat up. "Yeah... Weird dream?"

He rarely dreamed when he slept beside Gabriel, but now that he was back on the road with his brother, he was making up for lost time.

"Sounded like a nightmare." Dean was suddenly really attentive to that empty road, avoiding even the potential for eye contact with Sam.

It was fading now. What had been so clear and reasonable in the landscape of his dreaming mind was now confused and impossible to grasp. The tatters that remained of it were only an uneasy memory...

"Might've been." He fumbled for his phone beneath his seat belt, realised he didn't actually have Jess's number since she'd got a new phone, and then messaged Gabriel instead.

Hey, is Jess still on campus? She doing okay?

A response came three minutes later: Can't believe the first time you message me in a week is about a girl you dated last year. smh. She's fine btw. [Attachment: IMG_1101104].

The photo was a candid snap from one of the libraries at Stanford. Jess looked like she'd been surprised, looking up from her book only to be captured in digital media. She was as pretty as ever, but all Sam felt looking at the picture was—well, it was nice of Gabriel to go out of his way to check on her.

Gabriel? Wasn't really a library kind of guy. It was kind of odd that he had even been close by enough to take the photo—a lucky coincidence, he guessed.

Thank you, Sam sent, and then shoved his phone away.

"Sooo..." Dean drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. "That a girl?"

"Uh." Sam rubbed his nose. "A friend. Weird dream was about her? I guess. I don't even remember it really. I was just... checking in."

A long pause. "Does 'uh, friend' have a name?"

"Jess? She's really a friend though. We went out one time and I broke it off." And hadn't his recent experience with the Woman in White, Constance, really made him feel good about that choice to sit down with Jess and talk about it? One date didn't have to mean a commitment, of course, but now in hindsight he was pretty glad to have left no expectations behind him.

"Huh," repeated Dean. "What, was she ugly?"

"Was she—? No, Dean." He sighed deeply. "Jess isn't ugly. We... Just didn't fit."

This was a highly editorialised version of events, and he could almost physically hear Gabriel interrupting in the back of his own mind: Is that what they're calling it? Do you remember what did fit? It was my—

Sam hauled his train of thought back onto its rails. Fortunately, his mental image of Gabriel was a lot more manageable than the real one.

He already missed him. It ached like an absent limb. The last time he'd felt like this was years ago, leaving Dean behind on his way to California.

Gabriel typically drifted in and out of Sam's life every second day or so with what now felt like surprising ease. For Sam, few relationships had ever been easy. He'd moved around too much growing up for that. For more than a decade it had just been Dean, Dad and Bobby. Those bonds were important—even when he didn't really want them to be—but they sure weren't easy.

...At some point, Sam was going to have to talk to Dean about Gabriel. He thought this thought intellectually, but even as he did, a less cerebral part of his brain—one which dealt with feelings like anger and fear and disgust—wondered if it was true. Maybe he could just ...avoid talking to Dean about anything Gabriel related, ever.

It wasn't that Dean was homophobic. Not... really homophobic, anyway. But they weren't the kind of touchy-feely people who talked about their feelings. And god only knew Sam didn't want to finally find their Dad after dropping that particular bomb on Dean. He could already see that playing out.

He licked his teeth. This was pretty clearly not the time to talk to Dean about any of the, um, gay stuff.

Can't even say it in your head, huh? sneered a little voice inside him. This one didn't sound much like Gabriel. Sam's meanest and most self destructive impulses never did. The, um, gay stuff, he mocked.

He set his jaw and tilted his head until his neck popped, with the sound of synovial fluid stretching, releasing gases between joints. Pop-pop, soft and satisfying, like a release valve for the tension in his spine.

Dean pulled a face at the noise and turned the radio up.

Silently, Sam turned towards his window, watching the road stream endlessly by. He didn't check his phone.

[navybrat817]

Eye of the Beholder

Pairing: Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve is your beautiful bodyguard and he thinks you're beautiful, too.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Bodyguard trope, fluff, tension, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested for Bodyguard!Steve (who still does art) to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #45 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You shuffled through your closet with an audible sigh. You had to make an appearance at a party tonight and still didn't know what to wear. It was ridiculous since you had a wide range of dresses and outfits to choose from, but your heart wasn't in it. Maybe because you didn't want to attend. You’d rather curl up and watch a movie as you fell asleep, but it was part of your job to socialize and look pretty.

You weren't going to complain when many out there had it worse.

“Why don't you get some rest instead of going through your closet? Again?”

You turned and stared at your bodyguard who sat across the room. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Steve Rogers was stunning enough to be a model. With his intimidating stature though, he made the right call by becoming a personal protection specialist. Easy on the eyes and built like a brick house, today he wore a tight blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and chest. He looked like the type of man who could toss you around if you asked nicely.

But seeing the sketchpad in his lap, you wondered if your paths ever would've crossed had he focused on an art career instead.

“You know you don't have to be here until tonight, right?” You asked, ignoring his suggestion as you shut the door. “Or do you like spending your time off watching over me?”

It wasn't your idea to hire a bodyguard, but you understood your agent’s insistence for you to have one. There were overzealous fans and creeps out there who wanted you. Ones who would stop at nothing to have you. All because you were a model. And while you weren't aware of any recent threats or danger, you needed someone like Steve to watch out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

But Steve himself? He was a pleasant surprise. You expected a stoic but polite man since he called you “ma’am” with the most serious expression upon meeting you. The more time spent with him, you realized passion lurked beneath the surface. Beyond that, he was authentic. In a world surrounded by plastic smiles, fake talk, and people ready to knock you from the pedestal you never asked to be set on to begin with, he was a much needed breath of fresh air.

“Technically my next day off is two days from now, ma’am,” he gently corrected you. You could listen to him talk all day. “But day off or not, I don't mind spending any extra time with you.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks hot. You spent days around gorgeous people who didn't make you bat an eye or stutter, but any sort of compliment or kind word from this man always got to you. “Hey, haven't I told you not to call me ma’am?”

“You have. On more than one occasion over the last couple of months.” A smile touched his kissable lips. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

You leveled him with a cool gaze. “So, your eidetic memory is limited to visual aspects and not auditory memories?’ You asked.

His face lit up when he smiled. “You remembered that I have an eidetic memory?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep calling me ma’am and you’ll be out of a job,” you said, deflecting from his question.

He chuckled, not at all afraid of your threat. “You won't fire me,” he said.

It was true. Steve had lasted longer than you expected because you liked him. More than that, you trusted him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for you and also keep your secrets safe. Not that you had many, but you wouldn't hesitate to tell him anything.

Anything except how your thoughts about Steve were sometimes unprofessional.

“I guess I won't, but don't think I won't make you carry my clutch around if you keep that up,” you teased, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Steve has been in your room countless times and it always felt a bit warmer with him there. “On that note, I’m sorry you have to go to the party tonight.”

At least you didn't have to bring a fake date. Lord, you couldn't stand PR stunts like that. You didn't judge those in the industry who did it since you understood why. It just wasn't for you.

Would Steve have been jealous if you did? Or would he have insisted that you go alone for your safety?

“Don't apologize. Where you go, I go,” he assured you, your heart swelling. You reminded yourself that it was his job to do that and nothing more. “Just give me the signal when you want to leave.”

Steve didn't just keep an eye on you for protection, but looked out for your well-being. He made sure you got rest when you were tired, food when you were hungry, and privacy when the crowd became too much. Your past boyfriends never paid attention or cared that much. Why was a bodyguard so concerned?

“Do you ever get tired of this?” You asked, leaning back on your hands as you regarded him. “Keeping an eye on me? Going where I'm going?”

He stopped sketching to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection that you liked to imagine he reserved for only a select few. “I say with complete sincerity that not only am I not tired of being your bodyguard, but you’re the best client I’ve ever had the privilege of protecting.”

You were certain stars shone in your eyes. “You flatter me, Steve.”

“I only speak the truth.”

You covered your mouth when you yawned. “Flattery. Truth. You’re still good to me and I appreciate it.”

Steve sat up straight and put his pencil down, concern etched in his face. “You’re tired. I think you should take a quick nap while you can.”

The man had a bossy tendency at times, but it was for your own good. You waved him off anyway. You could sleep later tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal. “What are you drawing?” You asked.

“Take a nap,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn't help but shiver. That kind of tone almost made you blurt out “yes, sir”, but you refrained. “You're drawing ‘take a nap’?” You asked instead, doing an inner cheer when his lips twitched in a smile. “Show me what it is and I’ll get some sleep. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” He asked.

“I think if anyone could get me to do anything without too much of a fight, it's you, Steve,” you said sincerely

He ran a hand through his hair and shyly ducked his head. “I can't say no to those eyes.” He brought his chair closer so you didn't have to get up. “But no insulting my work, okay? My ego can’t take it today.”

“Since your ego can't take it today, I’ll save the insults for tomorrow,” you giggled, but it stopped the moment he showed you the page.

It was a drawing of you.

You almost touched the page before you stopped yourself, not wanting to smudge it. The details were immaculate, down to your facial features and how you held yourself. You couldn’t say it was like looking in a mirror because you had never seen yourself look so beautiful, but it was still a reflection of you and something deeper.

He captured an essence that no camera ever had. One you didn't know you possessed. It was a tender and sensual story told through his eyes. Was this really how you looked to him?

“Steve, this is…” You lost your breath as you looked in his eyes. Where he had been shy a moment ago, he held his head high. Proudly. He should be proud of his talent. “It’s beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze a combination of soft and heated. A combination that made you lick your lips and set your heart ablaze. “It’s, uh, also not the first drawing I’ve done of you,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again.

You saw color in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “You think I'm beautiful?” Plenty of people told you that, but you liked it more coming from him. It was an earnest sort of declaration without demanding anything from you in return. “And you have more drawings of me?”

Part of you hoped he drew you in intimate positions since you selfishly wanted him to desire you.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever known.” Steve placed a large hand on your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean in, your heart racing faster. Could he see your pulse racing in your neck? “And I do have more. Maybe if you're good, I’ll show them to you.”

Please.

You thought he was going to close the gap and kiss you, but a knock at the door made him pull away and reach for the gun in his holster. It was both sexy and disappointing to see him slip into his bodyguard mode. That was why he was there though. To protect you. Your safety came first.

“Steve?” An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he shook his head. “New guy. Doesn't know the knock yet. I’ll be right back,” he muttered, surprising you by brushing his lips against your forehead. “Lay down, please. I need you to get some rest for both of us.”

You watched him walk to the door and waited until he grabbed the handle to answer. “Maybe you can join me. Sir.”

The muscles in his back tightened, his gaze dark as he glanced back at you. “Be good,” he growled, leaving the room quickly. It was a sound you hadn't heard before.

Giggling, you flopped back on your bed. Steve drew you. He thought you were beautiful. He desired you. At least, you hoped so. Now the question was, how long would you stay at the party tonight before you picked up where you left off?

And would you behave?

I hope I did this justice. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[noxtivagus]

mhmmm starlit waltz.... sometimes i find my mind just wandering back to that. lil thing i wrote years back. from time to time. i really want to rewrite it soon before 2022 ends ><

[kentopedia]

hi rylie!! thank you sm for the recs! and since you said your inbox is open …

could i maybe request a fic where nanami proposes to you? like a spur of the moment thing where it’s not really the “right time” but he just springs out the question bc he wants you forever 🥹😮‍💨

thank you a bajillion! <3

my everything

FEATURING: nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: after nanami remembers how short life can be, he realizes he wants to spend the rest of his with you.

CONTENTS: takes place during jjk 0, slight angst per usual, marriage proposals, sorcerer!reader, nanami's pov, happy ending

note: thank you for this sweet request!! i kind of took it and ran w it, but this was so much fun to write :) i hope you enjoy lovely!! <;33

Kento couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid.

The gnawing feeling of dread was as heavy as the ring in his pocket, the one that he now regretted hanging onto for so long. Shinjuku streets were drenched in the blood of so many curses, humans, and sorcerers and it sickened him, reminded him that life could be cut short at any moment. There was a reason that he’d quit Jujutsu so many years ago, and he started to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming back.

Kento sorted through the bodies, scanned the mangled corpses for any sign of your familiar face. He never spotted you, but he wasn’t certain if it was a relief that you were nowhere to be found.

Satoru stood at the edge of the street, his forehead lined with sweat, the pale bandages falling away from his icy eyes. Briefly, he dropped the façade that always lingered, and it was obvious how tired he was. How much everything had beaten him down in the last decade and refused to let up.

In that moment, Kento felt sorry for him. Then, Satoru resumed his usual air of arrogance, straightened his back, and the natural balance fell between them once more.

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

“So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

And though the both of you knew your injuries were minimal, your eyes brightened as the skin around them wrinkled, and Kento knew that whatever happened after this, he would live and die a happy man.

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I've just got back to ATSV and your Hobie fics made me felt like a school girl giggling to myself 😭🤍

I don't know if you still open for request but you may ignore if you feel uncomfortable!

I was thinking about long distance relationship with Hobie, maybe they met in some dating app ( I know this felt weird but like imagine him being bored and randomly download it for fun but then met the love of his life lol )

And one day Reader decided to surprise him on one of his concert 👀

Aww you're so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this, sorry for the wait ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, band au, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

When your long distance partner said that he's in a band, you never expected that he's in one of those bands that plays in sold out venues. Granted that the concert also has other bands playing on the same day in different schedules, nonetheless his band is the one that's headlining the entire charity event. The venue is open air, trees lined around the park with dozens of booths selling merch, and overpriced burritos. At least the free water makes up for the expensive food and the long lines to the port-a-potty.

People are all dressed up for the event walk past you, they're in a complete ensemble, spikes, knee high boots, fishnets and hair that is taller than the luggage you're lugging around. It's safe to say that you stick out like a sore thumb in your comfortable airport clothes. If not then all the stares you're getting is because you have a huge bug on your face or something on your teeth. Maybe you should've gone with your original plan of waiting outside his houseboat like a creep.

You exhale, gathering your courage just like back when you were buying the plane ticket to Camdem. Clutching your bag tightly, you head off to the baggage lockers on the side to drop off your weekend bag before showing your concert ticket to the tired employee.

With a few flight delays on your belt, you were afraid that you'd miss his set. But lo and behold, the second you stepped foot inside, the loud booming speakers are announcing his band. You make your mad dash towards the front of the stage, excitement and trepidation fueling you while you practically squeeze yourself in between the growing crowd. After a few apologies to some people you've accidentally elbowed, you finally make it at the front with only a few bruises here and there. You don't care about the aches the second you see him appear from backstage.

Hobie, your long distance partner of two years and a half is finally in front of you. Well a few feet away from you as there's a bannister and a huge security guy guarding the fences. And yet, you haven't been this close to holding him. Signing up for a dating site wasn't your greatest moment but you're glad you did, if you hadn't, you might've not met the love of your life. You're also glad that his friends dared him into signing up, you feel incredibly lucky that the stars aligned for the two of you to meet.

His band waves to the crowd, faces you've come accustomed to whenever he brings you (his phone while you video call him) to band practices and hangouts throughout the years. Dare you say that they've become your friends too, if not for them encouraging you to finally buy that ticket to surprise Hobie, you wouldn't be standing here with your hands gripping tightly on the railings.

He looks amazing under the bright lights, the spotlight highlights all his best features. Clad in leather, spikes and metal, seeing him behind your phone screen doesn't prepare you for the real thing.

With stars in your eyes, you grin widely. Yet you don't call for him so you don't distract him. Instead, you listen to the first song as Hobie plays a familiar guitar riff. You unabashedly ogle him while you listen to the song you've personally seen the development of.

Sweaty, eyes strained to see him through the spotlight while your ears ring— you probably don't look your best while the crowd pushes the fences wildly. Maybe you should've thought this through, or at least wore something nicer.

Hobie still hasn't seen you amidst the crowd. Continuing to jump and somersault effortlessly around the stage while fans scream and screech his name out. You once again stick out like a sore thumb while you stay in place when everyone else is jumping up and down to the beat. Seeing the lone anomaly, Hobie shields his eyes from the lights to get a good look at the supposed disgruntled fan. He never expected to see your face, his heart feels like it stopped for a second, he tumbles towards a wire that trips him and in turn launches him towards a small amp that also trips him and makes him land flat on his face. If not for his quick reflexes, he might've broken his nose on stage.

The crowd makes an empathetic sound as silence spreads throughout the venue. Some reach out to him as if they would've caught him mid air, and you're one of those people. With a wince, you watch him sit up, trying his best to act cool while he's tangled around numerous wires. He looks silly and lovestruck at the same time when his eyes meet your own. Your name falls off his lips, eyes sparkling under the red spotlights.

You give him a small wave, smiling bashfully at the punk on stage. A stage hand helps him untangle himself while Ned helps back up on his feet. All the while, his eyes never left your form.

“Wanna take five, loverboy?” Ned whispers, patting his best mate on the back. “Fuckin' hell you're bleeding.” The crowd cheers as blood ebbs out.

Even with crimson flowing out of his nostril, pain ebbing through his face, he still manages to grin back at you. “Yeah, make that ten, Ned.” he clasps his hand on Ned's shoulder without leaving his eyes on you. You wink at him. “Better yet, make that twenty.”

Ned rolls his eyes, calling for the medics before gesturing towards you to come around backstage.

—

An organizer gives you a backstage pass, letting you roam around the performers area freely. You play with the lace as your nerves get the best of you. You kinda feel bad for being the cause of the delay, but when your darting eyes see his familiar silhouette, it all melts away.

“Can I get an autograph?” You say, standing under the medical tent while a paramedic tends to his bleeding nose. His head whips towards you so fast, you were afraid that he'd break his neck. “Hi, Hobie.”

A giddy grin spreads on his face, standing up from the plastic chair with tissue paper stuck up his nose. “Hello, love.”

You giggle, crossing the small distance, hands reaching to his sides, waiting for him to hold you. Hobie wraps his fingers gently around your wrists, pulling you close. Toe to toe, he guides your hands on his waist.

“You're taller than I expected.” You utter with fondness, fingers splayed over his shirt, eyes etching his face into the folds of your mind.

“You have legs, and feet attached to your legs.” He says nervously, biting his lip from grinning too widely. “You're as fit as I thought you would be.” Chortling, you pat his chest. Realizing that the tissue papers are still stuck up his nose, he yanks them away quickly, hiding it inside his back pocket as if nothing happened. “You surprised me.”

“That was very dignified of you, Hobs.”

Chuckling, he does what he always wanted to do; hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Was that a deal breaker?”

You scoff playfully, leaning into his touch as he embraces you fully, shyness melting off the both of you only to be replaced with affection. You do the same, face tucked on his neck. He smells like the perfume you sent him when he asked what perfume you always use. And in turn, you smell like his cologne he gifted you a week later.

“Nope, it actually made me more attracted to you.” You feel his knuckles trace circles around your back, nose pressed on your skin. “Sorry that I surprised you, and made you fall on your face in front of thousands of people.”

Hobie gives you a chaste kiss on your jaw before leaning away to cup your face. You feel like you're on cloud nine as he looks at you like you're everything to him.

“Nah, not even close to a thousand, lovie.” His thumb brushes along your cheeks, savoring your warmth like he always wanted to do. You smile, palms on his jacket lapels. “Y’know what's funny?”

“You landing flat on your face in front of hundreds of adoring fans?”

He pokes your side with a chuckle. “I'll never hear the end of that, huh?” You shake your head with a soft smile as he leans closer, you meet him halfway by pulling him by his jacket. “I bought a ticket to your place.” Your eyes widen, tearing up from his words. “I was supposed to fly after the concert and wait outside your flat like a bloody stalker.” Smiling, he closes the distance. “You beat me to it, love.”

“I won.” You kiss him just like how you imagined.

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Still Untitled

[jungkook x reader] [ 1k+ fluff]

A/N: Something short and sweet. I initially wrote a lil bit of smut, but it came out a bit perverted and I don't think it fits the character of Jungkook in this fic. I still have no title for this, but I'm so glad to receive such great lovely feedback!

Untitled

-

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your feet are walking towards Jungkook.

A breathy and meek hi leaves your mouth, the sudden greeting has him turning around to face you. Before you can backtrack, your hand extends to offer a carton of banana milk to Jungkook.

You're not sure if you're glad he's being super quiet, but wanting to get this done in one go, the words swiftly fly out of your mouth.

"I'mreallysorryaboutlastnightImistookyouforsomeoneelse," you expel in one shaky breath.

Jungkook looks perplexed, probably unsure what to make of the sudden apology, you assume. You were contemplating if you needed to elaborate, but as soon as Jungkook took the milk from your hands, hesitantly—you observed—your legs were quick to find their way back to your space and hide behind your propped up easel.

Had you stayed a second longer, you would have witnessed Jungkook break out a childish grin and blush. His hold on the carton was so gentle, one would have thought he was holding something far too fragile than a drink.

-

The class had passed quickly, which you were thankful for, for the first time. As soon as the clock hit 5:00, you rushed to bag your stuff—no plans of staying extra hours for today. You're still mortified from yesterday and while you don't think a lousy apology makes up for your misplaced accusation, you also don't have the courage of facing Jungkook.

At least, not now, you reason to yourself. Promising to scrape more courage for next time.

In your haste of leaving, you forgot to unhook the strap of your tote from the chair and as you lug your bag behind you as you speed walk, the chair topples and your things tumble out and scatter to the floor, much like the smithereens of your dignity.

A whispered curt curse is heard from you before you rush to pick up the rolling colored pencils.

"Here," Even with your head downcast and eyes glued to the floor, you know whose tattooed hands are handing your pencils towards you.

"Thanks," you clear your throat and glance at the man you wronged. "I got it," you softly say, a subtle way of shoo-ing him away, once again.

You stood up abruptly after shoving everything inside your bag. You see Jungkook lift the chair upright and thank him. You get a response in the form of a smile.

You made three streps before you heard your name called. With obvious reluctance, you face Jungkook and raise your brow in question. Afraid if you open your mouth, something judgmental comes out. Or maybe just that you choke from the clawing embarrassment.

"Do you wanna get coffee?" Jungkook adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. This time, he's taking Namjoon's advice. Just ask her to go out, even if it's just getting coffee after her class. It's a better way to get to know each other. Pick up lines are lame, his hyung said which earned a loud yelp of disagreement from Seokjin. Still, Jungkook thinks Namjoon made more sense.

Plus, he remembers those times whenever he sees you on campus, you always held a cup of coffee. And today, before class, he noticed you had nothing with you other than milk—which even turned out to be for him. He'd get all giggly later, for now, he has a bigger daunting task.

Throughout the class, Jungkook was internally hyping himself up to ask you for coffee. He almost felt pathetic when he saw you quickly pack your things and rush out, already thinking he'll have to run after you. But lo and behold, the universe bought him time.

"I-It's kinda late for coffee, don't you think?" You covered your uneasiness by clearing your throat and pretending to look at your watch. It was too quick of a glance to read the time, he notices. He knows you're evading him. Panic rushes into Jungkook. While on good days, he prided himself for thinking on his feet—those days helped him win rebuts with Seokjin—this moment would have been the one time where the words he uttered couldn't be more nonsensical and embarrassing, "Well, drinking coffee before bed will keep you awake at night is a myth, anyway." The words trailed off one by one as it reached the end, but you heard him loud and clear.

You were to quick to mask your visible confusion by pursing your lips, as if considering what he just said. But Jungkook knows how stupid he sounded. There was no redemption from this.

But just when Jungkook was ready to wave the white flag, he heard you snort a laugh. He looks up and sees your lips break out in a grin—one you tried to hide with an adorable nose scrunch, but your amusement still shone through with a tight-lipped smile. Then, finally, you look at Jungkook and this moment, he'll forever remember because you're looking at him with adoring eyes.

"Fine, then," you agree, lips still toying an amused smile. "Since you're so desperate for coffee you're making stuff up. But I'm getting a decaf."

Your turn and walk towards the approaching evening, and Jungkook follows suit with a lovesick smile.

-

"Wait... you thought I was Kim Jongkook?!"

You sheepishly smile, your fingers on the table scratches the surface, an anxiety tick. But you also look like someone desperately digging for a hole where you can escape to. You want to be away from this awkward confrontation where you have no excuse, no rebut.

“It really was an honest mistake. I’m sorry for lashing out on you.” Your head hangs with shame as you apologize for the nth time.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook noticed and took note of your tick. He really was just teasing you, enjoying your adorable puppy eyes, even more so that it's directed towards him. But perhaps, he had his fun. He smiles and comforts you—saying it’s fine and he understands. Right as you look up at him, your names are called for your ordered coffees.

In the same breath which he decides he wants to always be this close with you, he's also unsure how much he can hold back from wanting to just kiss you. And so, as much as Jungkook didn't want to break away from the moment, he stands from his seat, “I’ll get it. Just… you won’t leave, right?”

You would think he was teasing, making a jab from the couple of times you walked out from him, but seeing his pensive eyes had you retracting your assumption. “I’ll be here,” you smile reassuringly.

-

Your trip for coffee, but as per Jungkook's delusion—your date— lasted longer for hours. Small conversations were shared between the tiny round table that held your cups of drinks. No more hole-scratching on the table and downcast embarrassed eyes.

Jungkook thinks his heart may burst from happiness.

Unfortunately, your phone pings, breaking the bubble that enclosed you and Jungkook, one that temporarily kept you away from the outside noise. “Oh, sorry. That’s my alarm.” Your eyebrows furrow as you glance at your watch. This time, really looking at the time, Jungkook observes.

“I should be somewhere now, actually.” As you quickly gather your things, Jungkook matches your pace—grabbing your littered cups and tissues on the table, picking up the proof of your shared evening.

“This was really nice, Jungkook. I now partly feel bad for judging you too quickly,” you tease as you watch him trash the stacked cups.

“That’s not good enough,” Jungkook crosses his now free arms, biceps bulging that were not missed by your eyes. He sees the trail of your sight and that was just what he needed to be confident enough to ask for another coffee date. One that you agreed to without hesitation.

He grows giddy and excited. Wanting tomorrow—Thursday—to come sooner. He doesn't mind if the day ends quickly now as you part ways. And it isn’t until you round a corner that you both stop turning around to check on the other.

-

[the-whispers-of-death]

(nonbinary) reader with tokophobia x Simon "Ghost" Riley?

I've never seen any fics where reader has tokophobia, and I have been getting FAR too many pregnant!reader fics on my dash to be comfortable😭😭

don't need to write anything abt this if you dont want to, by the way! :)

It's fine, I just hope I write this as best as I can to properly represent tokophobia! Gender neutral Reader who has a uterus, coming right up!

For as long as you could remember, you felt sick at the thought of childbirth and being pregnant. There were people around you who didn't want kids, but they didn't have the same fear about childbirth as you did. You knew how risky pregnancy could be, how there were so many ways things could go wrong. And it all terrified you, every single detail about childbirth.

So whenever you were asked about kids and pregnancy, you said you never wanted kids. And the response you got were people telling you that you'd change your mind or, and this was the real kicker, that your partner was going to want kids—expect kids from you.

As the years went by, your dating pool was limited. You only dated guys who didn't want kids, but the thing was that some of those good guys eventually talked about the possibility of having kids. So you came to a period of your life where you cut off dating completely, your previous experiences suggesting that every guy who said they never wanted kids would eventually want kids.

Until you met Simon.

Simon at first scared you, not because he seemed unapproachable, but because he was a military man. Military men weren't known for not wanting kids. Even if they weren't planning on having kids, they ended up doing so because they were more likely to be risky with sex and using protection. So you were afraid he'd want kids or would accidentally knock you up.

Still, you let him take you out on dates and you soon found yourself falling in love with him. You two had sex, always with a condom, and you always took the morning pill. You weren't taking any chances.

One day, Simon asked you why you were so hell-bent on not having kids. He wasn't judging, he was just curious. And it was his gentleness about the subject, the way he was just so genuinely curious, that it made you pour your heart out and talk to him about your fear of childbirth and pregnancy.

After you did so, Simon frowned and you were worried he was going to brush off your fear or worse, try and convince you to bear his child. Instead, he told you to he was going to get a vasectomy, just so there was another extra layer of precaution in case your plan b pills didn't work and/or the condom broke.

You thought he was just saying it to make you feel better but lo and behold, the next day, he came back after having a vasectomy. And he didn't even try and tell you that you should stop taking the plan b pills or that you two should do it without the condoms, no, this was purely just another way to ease your mind.

Because he didn't want kids, definitely not, and he much preferred helping your fears be at ease.

[nataliasquote]

The Price of Perfection | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha will stop at nothing to be perfect, but what will it cost?

Warnings: body dysmorphia, negative self image, toxic thoughts, self hatred, tiny mention of SA

wc: 1k

notes: this is depressing as shit. I wrote it one go (again) and tbh I don’t think it makes sense. I just started writing and didn’t stop. Yeah… vent fic idk. Anyway, enjoy, you angst lovers :)

-⧗-

Mirrors.

A symbol of vanity, casting reflections upon the eyes of the beholder. They’ve seen the most lavish ballgowns and the sleepiest eyes, countless discarded outfits and miniature fashion shows.

Used with friends, with families, with loved ones, a way to see one’s favourite people in the same place. They brought so much happiness without so much as a second thought, so why did she hate them so much?

Whilst the rest of the world crowded to take pictures in the mirror, Natasha had hers concealed away like an antique. A pale sheet usually covered the large reflective glass on her wall, she couldn’t bear the sight.

It wasn’t the mirror itself that caused such repulsion in the Russian’s stomach, no. It was the figure she had staring back at her that left her paralysed in disgust. She avoided all reflections like the plague, far too afraid of what she would find if she looked.

Mirrors hid nothing. They were as raw as could be, every flaw highlighted like the freckles on her pale skin. Natasha never cared for the way her body looked, it served her just fine, but something had shifted lately, something small in her mind triggering an avalanche.

How do you even begin to understand something that has been objectified your entire life? How do you view it as anything more than a way to assist a mission, anything more than something for other people to break at will. The visible scars were one thing, but the invisible marks of the many hands that had slid grotesquely around her waist and pawed at her chest like pieces of meat were what stuck out the most as she obsessed over her reflection.

Perfection was a slippery slope.

And Natasha Romanoff craved perfection.

It was all she knew. But gone were the days of having instructors barking orders to ensure she maintained that divine perfection. She was on her own now, but was that a good thing?

Her self control was impeccable but her eyes told another story. They burned across the expanse of her stomach in the dim bathroom light, slender fingers tugging at the flesh on her hips whilst her jaw was set rigid. The cool air barely raised a hair on her arms as she picked herself apart, falling deeper and deeper into her nightmares as red lines began to form across her limbs and torso.

Where was the perfection she had been told she was?

Was it buried underneath the blanket of snow that coated her homeland in its icy beauty? Or was it simply a ruse, a false pretense, meant only to manipulate her further into the ultimate weapon.

Whatever it was, she couldn’t see it now. Even through blurry eyes filled with tears that warped her reflection further, Natasha still stretched and pulled at her skin, ignoring the burn that ignited just under the surface.

How can someone possibly want to love someone like her? A freak, a mess. Bile rose in her throat the longer she panicked, her eyes frantically darting between countless scars and layers of muscle she only perceived as extra weight.

Where had she gone so wrong?

Her mind, usually her sharpest weapon, unmatched in the face of the enemy, had turned on itself and left her the victim in the lonely battlefield. But who was she fighting, if not the figure who mimicked her every move and felt so familiar yet so horrendously foreign.

She didn’t know who she was anymore. Who did her body belong to, because it certainly wasn’t her. Would anyone want her in this state, or would they be just as repulsed as she was after mere seconds of inspection.

“But you’re beautiful.”

What lies. Her grip on reality may have faltered, like fingers slipping on sodden rocks, but she knew what beauty was. And yet now, face to face with the one so many people had admired, she couldn’t see the so-called beauty.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips, yet her expression did nothing to match it. It wasn’t that of happiness, but of desperation, of insanity, the final parts of her slipping away as dysmorphia finally took its hold.

She would never be beautiful, not to herself. Maybe for a fleeting moment when the sun shone just right and her chest felt a little lighter, but that feeling never lasted. All it took was one glance at her reflection in a window for the clouds to settle back inside her mind, reminding her over and over that she would never look the way she wanted. No matter how much she craved it.

The sheet went back up. Her eyes stayed glued to the sidewalk in fear of catching herself in a shop window, and slowly Natasha felt herself slipping away. Her close circle barely saw her anymore, she didn’t want them to see what she saw, and her fork only pushed her food around her plate instead of allowing her a taste.

She knew the price of perfection was high, but it felt astronomical as she scrambled after it, neglecting her life for a glimpse of that feeling. Yet it seemed the harder she tried, the further it felt, leaving her exhausted day after day.

But she never quit. That wasn’t Natasha Romanoff. If she wanted something, she got it, no matter the sacrifice.

But she was fighting a losing battle. Her clouded mind never once gave way to the idea that she was already perfect. How could it? She wasn’t happy with her body, no matter how much she lost or how far she ran.

To the rest of the world, she was the epitome of perfection.

But to herself, she would never be enough. No matter what.

And no compliment could fix that. Not when her self image was so warped that she couldn’t see straight anymore.

She was, and always would be, the reason for her downfall. No enemy could take her down quite like her own mind could and it was the only thing that gave her a sense of control.

But for the price of perfection, could she give it all up?

[almond-tofuuu]

Whispers of forever

Rafayel x reader

we take a break from our usual Zayne content to bring you a fluffy Rafayel fic, in honour of his birthday 🎂

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Rafayel (bc he should come with his own warning), reader is called miss bodyguard, ooc Rafayel? (it's my first time writing for him so I apologise if he's kinda ooc)

Happy birthday to our favourite Mermaid!!!! 🎉🎁🎂

The early morning sun filtered in through the large open window of Rafayel's bedroom, casting its warming glow across the expanse of his bed, causing your skin to tingle under the pleasant heat. Groaning softly as your eyes fluttered open, you stretch your arms before reaching out to the side, hands subconsciously searching for Rafayel, longing to curl into his chest and fall back asleep. But your hands are met with empty sheets, the spot beside you where Rafayel sleeps is cold, clearly he's been up for a while now. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you push yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the fluffy carpet below.

"Well well, look who's finally decided to wake up~" the familiar teasing tone brings a fond smile to your face, turning to find Rafayel lounging in a chair by the open window. A gentle breeze ruffles his soft, dusky hair, his handsome features illuminated by the sunlight, pale skin glowing under its rays. He truly is a sight to behold, alluring appearance rivaling even the most magnificent masterpiece.

Rafayel tilts his head, playful smirk tugging at his lips "you seem a little distracted, miss bodyguard, don't tell me that my boundless good-looks have rendered you speechless?~" his usual teasing has you turning your head away, attempting to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, a pout forming on your lips at being caught staring. You can hear his chuckle followed by the shuffling of fabric as Rafayel rises from his seat, feet padding softly against the floor as he makes his way over to you. You feel his eyes on you as long, slender fingers play with a loose strand of your hair. "Don't be shy, I like it when you look at me. In fact~" his fingers gently trail along your jaw, tilting your chin upwards until your forced to meet his gaze, bluish-pink eyes holding a tenderness despite his teasing tone. "I want to be the only one you look at, now and forever"

Your eyes widen, blush deepening at the possible meaning behind his words, a nervous laugh bubbles from your lips "if I didn't know any better, I'd think that sounded like a proposal"

"And what if it was? Would you accept it?" His voice had lost its playful tone, replaced by a sudden vulnerability that was reflected in his eyes, making your breath hitch at the unusual seriousness in his face. The air is still around you, thrums with anticipation much like the quickened beating of your heart. Your eyes flicker over Rafayel's face, searching his expression for any indicators that this is just more of his usual teasing, that any minute now he's going to burst out laughing at the dumbfounded look on your face. But the earnest look in his eyes, so honest and hopeful and equally afraid, tells you that he means it. Your hand moves to rest over his palm that is cradling the side of your face, head leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale leaving you before your lips curve into a soft smile.

"Rafayel, nothing would make me happier than spending forever by your side" your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but it's overflowing with the depth of the love you feel for the man in front of you. You watch as Rafayel processes your answer, chest falling with the release of the breath he'd been holding in anticipation, gorgeous eyes lighting up as an equally gorgeous smile spreads across his face. You only got a second to admire it though as Rafayel tackled you in a hug, the both of you falling backwards onto the bed, giggling and sharing sweet, soft kisses. When you had both finally calmed down, you simply lay there, wrapped in eachothers embrace, your fingers tracing along the soft skin of Rafayel's exposed chest as his gentle stroked through your hair. Basking in the gentle glow of sunlight and the warmth of your love, Rafayel laid his forehead against yours, his eyes locking onto your own, and within them you saw a tidal wave of emotions. A tsunami of love, adoration and joy that threatened to drown out the rest of the world until all you could focus on was the man in front of you. The man you loved with all your heart.

"Don't forget your promise, miss bodyguard, you're mine now, forever. And my heart-" Rafayel gently hold your palm to his chest, letting you feel the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "My heart will forever be yours."

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Sometimes All We Need Is A Good Cry (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: it's in the title

Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @stilestotherescue @madspads @catlynharper@merrilark @jaziona92 @yeehawbrothers @mochabonesblog @iguirisu @thegen3sisark @wereallbrokenangels  (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ���──

Sometimes feelings can be extremely overwhelming. Sometimes when your feelings are so overwhelming that you can’t even breathe, you find yourself tucking away into a dark corner somewhere private so you can sob your heart out. It’s not pretty or comfortable, but it’s necessary to process your feelings and move on with it all. 

It’s been a good while since your last cry, but today- today was the final straw. The final snap. Some days are just truly too awful to even think about. So awful that even when you’re crying your heart out, and you put the thoughts away, you still keep crying. It’s almost like your body doesn’t know what else to do. 

You’d found this room several months ago. The TARDIS was huge, and exploring its true depths was a terrifying concept, but every so often you found yourself bored enough to travel a little further into the corridors and rooms. 

It was quiet and cozy, with soft bean bags and a few cabinets of god only knows what lining the walls, but what really drew you in was the window. At the size of the entire back wall, it was a sight to behold, and you adored being able to sit down and see out at the supernovas, black holes, moons, planets and whatever else drifted by. It was gorgeous, and a source of comfort for you. 

You hadn’t told the Doctor that you’d found the room, preferring for it to be a private thing. Not that you didn’t want him to know, just that- if you needed a moment alone, this is where you always found yourself. 

But the problem was- you didn’t want to be alone now, and your sobs were wracking your body so harshly that you couldn’t even begin to contemplate getting up and going to find him. You were here, alone, looking out at the vast blackness of space. Not even the stars were twinkling all that bright tonight. It was as if they knew how much pain you were in… Or maybe you just couldn’t see past the wall of tears blurring your vision. 

“I- I don’t know if you can hear me,” you sobbed, reaching out to brush your fingers against the wall. “But if- if you can- can you bring him here- please?” Your arms shook with the effort, and your throat felt thick and lumpy with the force of your breathing. You didn’t know if the TARDIS could hear you. If she was listening even if she could. 

Your hand dropped off the wall, and you sunk lower into yourself, kneeling on the floor and pulling a stray cushion towards yourself. You just needed something to hold. Something to comfort yourself with until you could pull yourself together. But the pieces of yourself shattered over the floor were sharp, and you were afraid of cutting yourself with them when you tried to pick them up. 

Each time your tears started to slow, another wave of emotions would bash themselves against you and release the flood all over again. Your sleeve was wet with snot and tears, but you didn’t have any tissues to use in the meantime. It felt like hours, and perhaps it was before you heard the telltale ‘shhck’ of the door opening behind you. You bit down on your lip, emotions trying to shove themselves back down out of habit. 

“What’s all this then, eh?” A velvet-smooth voice asked, and suddenly he was kneeling down beside you. He didn’t force you to look at him or to respond. He just looked out at the stars through the glass. “You’re alright then, love, don’t you worry,” he whispered, shuffling just a touch closer. 

You could feel the desire rolling off him to wrap you up in his arms. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he could certainly tell that it was something big. Your lip struggled between your teeth to stay there, and you finally risked a glance at him. 

It was as if making eye contact with him was all it took to let go once again, a loud hiccuping sob escaping your throat as you threw yourself into his chest for comfort, seeking the comforting beat of his hearts, and the warmth that came with them. 

The Doctor grunted with surprise but was instantly wrapping you up safely in his arms. He pulled you up towards his lap on your side so you could lay against him. He rubbed your arm comfortingly and pressed a litany of kisses to your forehead, but he didn’t shush you.

 

“Come on then, love,” he said quietly, squeezing you tight. “Let it out- go on, there you go- oh, my darling,” the Doctor pressed his cheek to your forehead, rocking you slightly back and forth. “That’s better, oh yes, I know.” 

You could feel his suit jacket grow wet under your eye and readjusted your face so you were pressed onto a dry patch. You could feel how puffy your face was already, and you hadn’t even finished with your tears yet. 

“I know it hurts, darling,” the Doctor cooed, adjusting one arm so he could play with your hair, scratching at the scalp just the way you like. You sniffled, an embarrassing snot bubble forming. The Doctor didn’t seem to be worried about it, though, and just continued to rock you in his arms. “You’re alright, I promise. I’m here, you know me- always around when you need me, aren’t I? Yeah.” 

You nodded, reassuring yourself with his comforting words. He wasn’t going to leave you. He’d keep you safe. The Doctor would always keep you safe. 

Slowly, the tears began to slow, the snot drying on your clothes. You wiped your nose and let your eyes close- irritated as they were from the salt of your tears. 

“Do you want to talk about it, then?” The Doctor asked quietly some time after your tears had stopped and you both had sunk into silence watching the stars. You shook your head no, and the Doctor kissed your forehead as an acknowledgement. 

“Talk to me?” You asked, voice thick and crackly with abuse. The Doctor hummed, thinking of something to say. You’d never known him to need to think before he opened his mouth. Always ready to talk about something, your Doctor was.

“See that moon? Past that asteroid belt, yep,” the Doctor said after another minute of contemplation. He was pointing towards a green-tinted moon over on the left-hand side of the window. It was pretty, you thought. No matter how many moons and planets you saw, you’d thought they were all gorgeous. It was one of the things the Doctor adored most about you. 

“I’ve been there. Had a nasty outbreak of Cybermen in, oh-” the Doctor checked his watch. “About fifteen thousand years. Gorgeous place, nice little outpost for a quick pit stop. I’m still not sure what they wanted there, actually.” 

You settled into his arms, watching the moon in the distance. 

“Met a nice android there. Not a huge fan of androids, me, but he was nice enough. We managed to fight them off and get rid of them before too many people were ‘upgraded’,” the Doctor grimaced at the terminology. 

“How did they get there?” You asked, feeling your eyelids start to droop just a little. 

“Oh, same as always, worming themselves across the galaxy,” he sighed, leaning his chin on your forehead. “I know what you’re thinking- ‘Doctor, how did you know they were there?’ Ah, well, good question.” 

Your eyes drooped a little more and you startled yourself awake, trying to listen to the story. The Doctor’s fingers rubbed soothing circles on your arm. 

“See, it all started how it usually starts. I was hungry, looking for a quick spot to stuff my face when I got a distress signal on my psychic paper. It’s always when I’m hungry, I’ve noticed. Very odd… Anyway, where was I? Oh yes-” 

And so the Doctor started to tell you all about his adventure, and the Cybermen and how he triumphed over them once again. You realised right before you fell into a comforting sleep that he’d stopped talking, but you were too close to the edge to ask why. 

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered as you let sleep take you under. “I’ll be here when you wake.” 

[vagabond-umlaut]

parterre

Lord Nanami is a knight, yes. A very esteemed one at that. But does anyone know he is an impressive gardener too? Well, he is— for he is the one, who caused these many flowers of these many hues to bloom in the landscape of your heart— so much so that you've not the slightest idea on how to manage them all well.

▸ knight!Nanami x lady-in-waiting!Reader; Historical AU; Tons of Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Crushes; Pining [is it mutual, however?]; Jealousy; Misunderstandings; Teasing; Did I already say this is so sweetly fluffy, you might end up with cavities? Oh. Okay. Cool :); Reader is so terribly down bad for Nanami, it's become a matter of mild concern; She is called a harmless little nickname by the princess here; THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN AS A LITTLE CELEBRATORY GIFT TO NANAMI NATION, AFTER THE FEAST THAT JJK 2.12 WAS FOR Y'ALL ;))

▸ Behold, the thesis I mentioned to you last night, Julie my sweetest pie. 🤭🤭🤭 Hope you'll enjoy reading this! 🫶🫶 @nanamikentoseyebags

▸ I don't own the characters or image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. Enjoy reading! ❤️

Nanami Kento is no simple man. He is one crafted wondrously by the heavens. A veritable evidence, if there ever were any, of the existence of some greater being— powerful enough to make a man such as the knight. Merciful enough to make him live in the same time frame and place as you do.

A wistful sigh falls past your lips as you begrudgingly tear your focus away from the training grounds and direct it to the scalding coffee at hand, though it takes but two mere two seconds before you find your eyes darting to the open window yet again– skimming over the many heads out there– wanting to find only one blond head– heart beating far too many beats when you hear the name of its owner being yelled out once again—

The utterance of your title in court drags you away from your frantic search, to the mildly smiling face of the princess: Sleepy, yes– But a lot more awake than she was five minutes ago. You rush to offer her your greetings, only to stop when she lifts a finger and tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed a pinch.

"That was Kento's name being hollered, wasn't it, Petals?"

You aren't certain which infuriates you more— that the princess used your childhood nickname well into your adulthood– or that she called Knight Nanami by his first name, a privilege he is known to grant to a very select few—

Compelling your face to shift into a smile, you nod. "I'm afraid it was, Your Highness."

"And was it yet another lady cheering for his victory in a match, huh?" she queries, kicking the covers off her feet and landing onto the floor with a loud thud. Wincing lightly, you quickly shake your head 'no'.

"It wasn't, Your Highness. The voice sounded much like Lord Haibara."

A quiet hum comes in response to your observation– soon shadowed over by the off-key singing of rather... indelicate songs, you're certain no one of an upbringing as royal and guarded as your princess should know— before the lyrics pause– all of a sudden– the moment she sits down at the table and looks out the window.

At the ongoing duel between Nanami and Geto, swords clanging and their bare chests shining in the early morn sun.

The very sight making every drop of blood in your vessels to rush to your cheeks, flooding them with colour– whilst your gaze roves with no trace of shame over the well-built physique of the solemn blond– lingering in particular on the toned muscle of his arms and forearms, flexing and extending as his fingers grasp the hilt of the weapon and the muscles in his legs strain against the tight fabric of his slacks, as the knight moves in a spell-binding dance of danger and tact against his opponent.

A huff of a chuckle escapes you when the former lands a solid hit on the latter; no one can match him in his prowess at wielding a sword; making a tendril of pride unfurl in the centre of your chest, only for it to shrivel in the heat of envy the princess' chortle ignites in that very same place.

You make no efforts to stop the words tumbling out your mouth next. Nor the tense frown which nestles into your tinted lips, throwing your face into lines and ridges.

"Is Lord Nanami courting you, Your Highness?"

"What!?!?" Not even an instant elapses before the exclamation leaves your listener. You continue, pretending to be unperturbed by the way innumerable shades of shock and incredulity colour her countenance.

"I mean, you call him by his first name, and he too does the same for you. Besides, the both of you have often been spotted to be strolling in the gardens together, easily chatting and smiling... not to mention the ball held last winter solstice when you two entered the ball, side-by-side— it is not only me who me who wonders so, milady," you add when you notice her back straigthening and she returning the cup to the saucer, "The court is rife with suppositions, on the nature of your relationship with Lord Nanami."

A beat passes in tense silence in response to your expressed musings— before the hush is disrupted by a very grave-sounding query, from the lady across. "What do you look for in a future life partner, Petals?"

"Me?" you ask, index finger pointed at yourself.

The princess gives a nod. "Yes, you, Your Grace."

Your nose wrinkles at such ill-considered usage of such high-ranking titles— nevertheless, you find yourself brushing those concerns away to mull over much more important matters...

A good while passes before you form a reply. Focus zeroing on a tiny coffee stain on your dress, you begin.

"Someone who is calm and collected, stoic and serious. He should be strong too, not just in brawn but in brain and matters of heart as well. He must be strict and disciplined, but must have a gentle, caring side to him too. Won't hurt if he's a traditional romantic, giving me flowers and sweet compliments instead of the terrible comments men say to the ladies these days. And..."

You trail off, losing yourself in your mind, before resuming, in a muted murmur this time, "It might be really nice if he lets me be of those few who can call him by his name– and he becomes comfortable enough, to call me by my name. And accompany me on walks in the garden in the afternoons. And perhaps, even, ask me to the balls where we may wear matching outfits, and present ourselves as a couple before all."

A hand comes to rest over your folded ones. You look up to find a bit too wide smile resting on the princess' lips. She offers your hands an easing squeeze.

Little does she know it does little to ease your turbulent emotions— a feeling which worsens with the observations she voices to you next.

"I was terrified your beautiful mind was tainted by the disease of idle inquisitiveness, as happens to most in this world with age, you know," she hums, standing up and making you sit in her chair, "I'm very glad to conclude, that's not quite the case. However– I cannot say your so lovely mind is disease-free either, my sweet Petals."

Your brows gather together in confusion as you peer at her, eyes in a narrow stare. She continues– smile growing a touch of tenderness.

"Your mind has been afflicted with the awful ailment of lovesickness. And–" she says, putting greater emphasis on her syllables, when you attempt to protest her statement, "it is usually incurable, unless very great feats of bravery are performed by the patient themselves, or in the off-chance, the fates decide to be helpful and the person behind the mess makes the first move— but I must say, Your Grace, you are very lucky to have me as your consulting physician— for I know what will provide you interim relief until either of them happens— want to know what it is?"

You take a moment to consider before returning a slow, unsure nod.

The princess beams. "It's the knowledge of the fact, there's someone who matches every criteria you mentioned, to a T— and that– he has his eyes reserved for none, except one beautiful lady-in-waiting, who stares at the training ground from the windows of the princess' room every single morning— looking as fresh and vibrant as the nickname, the princess insists on calling her."

Your friend pauses for a beat— not that you really notice it over the thrum of your blood in your ears and your heart in your chest— she inquires, "You understood the prescription, didn't you, Petals?"

A high-pitched squeal– so unseemly, so embarrassed, so jubilant– is the only response you manage, retreating into the cushion, hiding the warmth of your face and the stretch of your smile behind your palms.

▸ masterlist

[danieyells]

After Hotaburi's chapter i was very curious about Zenji voicelines! Can i ask for them, please?

@yuri-is-online YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT OVERWHELMING ME although I appreciate the concern!! If I get overwhelmed or need a break I just put it aside until I'm ready or have the time and energy and attention span or ideas if necessary haha so no need to worry there 'u' (Also. . .good luck with those fics lolol)

ZENJI IS OUR LAST BOI. Until we get Ed and Lyca anyway. Which will honestly probably be in like. A week or two. Possibly less. I had my suspicions when I first read his that he was a ghost lol knowing he is. . .it gives them a little different feeling I guess haha.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Why, hello there, my dear. Suppose we kick off another swanky day here?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Come now, read those messages out, won't you? They're fan letters for me, aren't they? ...They're not?"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"You want to know the meaning of my words? I see— I'll have to give you a lecture on romanticism."

"What's this? Well, it's a biwa, of course. It's a biwa just as you are yourself."

what does that mean tho. . .i mean i get what it means but also it feels like it must mean something. . . .

"Girls, be ambitious... Dream big, my dear."

proud women enjoyer zenji kotodama

"A man who's everywhere but can be found nowhere... That's what it means to be an inspired man of the quill."

i think that's just what it means to be a ghost bby. . . . . . . . . . .

"Heh. There's no doubt about it. Zenji Kotodama is once again the most styling man on campus. These glad rags are the cat's pajamas."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Come now, let's depart in search of something sensational."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, have you come to see me? This is troubling. I'm afraid I'm out of autographs."

where have you been distributing them. . .?

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What am I doing here? ...I'm people-watching."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ordinarily I ask for write-ins for my advice salon on the World Wide Web...but tonight, I'm taking it out into the field."

i wonder if he's waiting to encounter people who'll be able to see and hear him or if he's just like. . .genuinely ignoring/forgetting/disregarding that he isn't seen or heard. . .or maybe he was ignored a lot in his lifetime too so he doesn't question that people don't respond. . . .

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The moon is beautiful... I always look forward to passing the hours in conversation with you and Towa on nights like these."

i thought you didn't hang around jabberwock after dark because the dark was dangerous tho. . .maybe if the moon is big and bright he doesn't mind because it's not as dark lolol

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My folktale videos? I filmed them at Haku's behest, but I can't imagine these old things will capture my fans' hearts..."

based on that the Urashima Taro video has his voice in it but his character story recording doesn't have him or his voice in it(and Haku deliberately tries to make the background interesting because he knows it'll only be the background and biwa sounds,) I think his voice can be recorded but if he's visibly in the recording it won't be captured? That or Haku has recording equipment that can capture ghost voices, but not images???

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"It truly is the age of YouTube. Can you fathom the romance of my artistry spreading to all four corners of the globe?"

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Every tool has its own knack you've got to acquire to use it properly. Behold— my mastery with a fishing pole!"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This doll here is special. The moment I met him I felt a destiny such that I knew we couldn't be strangers."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Oh, I didn't mean to give you a fright... I ought to have expected this. A sudden brush with an inspired man of the quill would take anyone's breath away."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Have you got any siblings, my dear? Why no, I don't mean anything by it. Just a little morning conversation."

i can imagine him looking fondly at his doll as he says he doesn't mean anything by it. His sibling isn't one of the most important things in the world to him or anything. He's just making conversation. btw in Japanese he says "morning talk" which sounds an awful lot like "pillow talk" to me and idk how many people would be comfortable discussing their siblings after the deed--

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Are you going to Mortkranken, my dear? ...I see. No, I don't mean anything by it. Are you hurt? I hope you'll take care."

so while it makes sense for Zenji to ask this as he is noted in his profile to be a worrywart, not to mention he died on campus, but also. . .y'know, his brother lives there.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. Apparently my footsteps give the general students the heebie-jeebies..."

In Japanese it does clarify that he moves without the sound of footsteps at all because the general students freak out hearing his footsteps since they can't see him

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"A swanky morning calls for a swanky breakfast, and some swanky radio calisthenics."

apparently radio calisthenics are still pretty popular in japan. in any case man are you sure you died like a year ago you sound so old

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Why, Subaru hasn't risen yet. Go ahead and wake him, won't you, my dear? I'll accompany your efforts from here with my biwa."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"A burst of inspiration has taken hold of me... No. The ghost of artistry has possessed my soul!"

okay well be careful with ghosts taking over your soul you don't have a ton left if you lose that--

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"To be a Darkwick student is to greet danger as an old friend... But I hope that Haku and Subaru have a long life ahead of them."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Zenji Kotodama is a wonderful name, don't you think? A sensational name befitting of my sensational sensibilities."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Trouble sleeping? Then I'll read you a story. How about Urashima Taro?"

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"I was standing by your pillow last night? Horsefeathers, I'd never. I was there the night before last."

BABY I DON'T THINK THAT'S BETTER. YOU ARE STILL WATCHING THEM SLEEP. WHAT ELSE DO YOU WATCH THEM DO.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Go ahead and eat. No, don't give me another thought—I'm on a diet, you see. Watching you is enough food for my soul."

you see why i suspected initially that he didn't know he was dead? can you eat at all buddy?? i don't think it's a diet if you've lost the ability to consume food. . . .

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Haku's busy today—film me in his stead, won't you?"

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I've got a little story about a hapless fool of a man... I'm sure it's hardly worth listening to. I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to share it with you?"

the true stories seem like the ones he wants to avoid. . .'a hapless fool of a man's story that isn't worth listening to but i'd still like to share' sounds an awful lot like it must be about him and his life. . . . In Japanese he says 「救いようのない、馬鹿な男の物語さ」 "it's the story of an irredeemable/hopeless, stupid man.". . .who did you hurt, Zenji?

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"To be able to look into your eyes and bid you good night... I'm the luckiest fella for miles around."

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Maybe we did meet too late. But it's all right. I promise I'll find you in the next life."

but. . .but we have this life. . .although this is one of the few acknowledgements he really gives of his own ghostly nature. He wants to be able to live with you. To be tangibly there for you, to touch you and support you, to be able to show you off to others. . .but he can't be recognized. He can't be seen or heard but by a select few, it's only thanks to Haku that he can be seen or heard by you. It's too late for something 'real' now. So he can plan for the future. For the next life. He'll find you when you're both alive and then you can do everything you'd want to do with a real physical boyfriend. He promises.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"In spring, the dawn... Red tinges the slowly paling mountain rim... Ah... These mountain fellas must've been goofy for some doll..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"There is hope buried under the cherry trees... It means that spring is the season of chance encounters."

isn't the like. rumor that cherry blossoms are pink because they dye their petals with the blood of corpses buried beneath them or something? i swear i read that somewhere. apparently it comes from a poem. is hope a body buried under a sakura tree. is that where they buried you, Zenji?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The cherry blossoms of Hotarubi are ephemeral—they bloom only to be quickly washed away by the rain. But I am rather fond of that way of life."

Zenji simultaneously lives in Acceptance and Denial stages of grief it seems lol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The beauty of the cherry blossoms under the night sky inspired me to pick up my pen... Oh, it has gotten easier to lift."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Have you seen him!? Who? Why, my doll, of course! This is very troubling. I've got to find him before the boogeymen stir!"

. . .somehow this reminds me of the Jiro dialogue where he's like "if Yuri asks where I am, tell him i went to bed, i'm going out" lol if the doll reminds him of Jiro, it seems to make sense that now and then it wanders off on its own. I wonder where it's going though?

(between 11am and 4pm)

"My ideal summer vacation? I wish to lay down my burdens in the springs of Yugawara and pursue my wordsmithery in peace, as so many greats have done before me."

Yugawara is a hot spring town in Japan! Apparently since the Meiji era people would go there for inspiration and such thanks to the atmosphere

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This master wordsmith studied by the light of fireflies... I see. Haku! Turn out the lights!"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I heard a frightful rumor... Apparently the ghost of a dead student has been spotted around Hotarubi..."

THAT'S YOU. YOU ARE THE SCARY GHOST OF A DEAD STUDENT. PEOPLE CAN SEE YOU MORE BECAUSE IT'S SUMMER.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Fall is the perfect season for a new book, and I have the perfect one for you... From inspired man of the quill Zenji Kotodama, the fruit of his sweat and blood... "Body.""

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A song for you in the season of the arts... From inspired lute priest Zenji Kotod— Wait, where are you going!?"

why is this the one time 'biwa' is translated to 'lute' lol. . .although 'lute priest' does sound way better than 'biwa priest'

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Gauging the literary significance of this video by something as insignificant as views... Horsefeathers, isn't it?"

yeah!!! don't judge your worth by views or follows, zenji!!!

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I've decided to make you the heroine of my next work... A beautiful princess who bites into a poisoned apple and falls into a deep slumber... and seven of you!"

a fascinating retelling of Snow White. . .Snow White And The Seven Snow Whites. . . .

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning, fellas! Time for my biwa recital to color the chill of this frigid sunrise! I call it "Six O'Clock in the Morning.""

zenji nO PEOPLE ARE TRYNA SLEEP

(between 11am and 4pm)

"There's a rumor going around that you can hear a biwa playing in the music room when no one's there... I go all the time though, and I've never heard it..."

again. . .that's because it's you. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The setting sun... The sky dyed purple... Your beautiful profile, obscured... (gasp) I've been struck by inspiration!! My dear, I have to leave you here!"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Are you cold? Then let me warm you up... My dear, why are you scooting away? I'll only make you colder...?"

it really seems like he forgets he's a ghost pretty often lmao

His birthday: (June 19th)

"Is this...a birthday present...? (hic) (sob) I'm the luckiest fella around...!"

people don't give him gifts often huh. . .or he's just very emotional. both could be true.

Your birthday:

"I've planned the perfect day to celebrate the miracle of your birth... We'll start with an ode to you, accompanied by my biwa."

he planned you a whole outing or maybe a party! with all day musical accompaniment!! What a sweetheart!!

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year, my dear. I'll be making the first shrine visit with Haku—care to join us?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"My dear...is this for me? (hic) (sob) I'll treasure it always...!"

well given he probably can't eat it. . .fair reaction

White Day: (March 13th)

"I'm sorry... I did try to explain that a biwa recital would make a better gift, but Haku insisted I present you with confections instead..."

thanks haku you a real one lmao although music wouldn't be bad just. . . .

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"No, I would never lie to you. An inspired man spins fiction with his quill, not his mouth, after all."

y'know, i love the honesty! you keep making stories and being open, zenji!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Why, you gave me quite a fright in that getup! What a marvelously queer celebration this is! So this is the legacy of westernization..."

no the marvelously queer celebrations are in june. although halloween is also marvelously queer sometimes--

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas! I've completed a new fairy tale. May my wishes reach the hearts of children everywhere..."

not a gift for you, but for the children! can a ghoul ghost and a human have--

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...And they lived happily ever after. How did you like my new story? I'd love to hear your— What? You weren't listening!?"

(13 affinity and above)

"Can you see me? Phew... You've been so quiet, you had me worried, my dear."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Ah, I'm so relieved you're all right, my dear. I wondered if something had happened on a mission... I'm glad my fears had no teeth."

THAT'S ALL OF EM. He's really. . .he is himself the whole way through huh lol. At the same time when he does acknowledge his ghostliness(and oftentimes he does the exact opposite, simply lacking in self-awareness) he seems a little lonely and regretful. . .I wonder if he was always such a worrywart or if he started worrying more after he died, realizing first hand just how dangerous things could be. I'm surprised how few acknowledgements his doll gets, although I don't think he carries it on the home screen?

I wonder how different his personality was when he was alive. Probably not very different tbh.

ANYWAY IT IS HALF PAST MIDNIGHT FOR ME. BEDTIME.

[moonlit-midnight]

Charmed and fascinated by you

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge.

Genre: AU, Urban Fantasy, Implied Romance.

Warnings: GN!Reader, self indulgent and inspired by an old fic that I wrote years ago, so excuse the slightly weird writing.

—

Lilia’s striking red eyes met yours as he leaned back against the balcony railing.

His long hair was unbound and disheveled, blowing wildly in the wind. It was a captivating sight to behold, a mess of raven black, dark blue and amaranth red.

Under the night sky, lit up with thousands of luminous stars he looked more inhuman than the first time you met him a few months ago.

Lilia was stunning, an absolute beauty, like the way a thunderstorm is when it strikes the dark skies.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” He broke the silence, his deep voice snapping you out of your trance. 

“You don’t seem like someone I should take lightly, but I’m not afraid of you.” you paused, shifting your gaze skywards before carrying on in a deliberate tone. “I’ve encountered creatures who’re far more dangerous than the fair folk, so I have no reason to fear you.”

And God knows I’m drawn to what’s strangely fascinating and unworldly.

Lilia stepped towards you, giving you a little bemused look.  “But I’m not a kind soul like you perceive me.”

“Nonsense!” you murmured, cheeks slightly tinted red as you stared at him. “You certainly are a good person.”

“When I trespassed in your realm months ago, you helped me escape when I got caught.” you took Lilia’s right hand in yours. It was cold as frozen iron, but you didn’t flinch at all. “You could’ve just left me there, but you held my hand and took me somewhere safe.”

“Goodness!” Lilia let out a soft chuckle, his eyes still steadily fixed on you, glinting in sheer amusement. “You’re either a brave soul like you claim to be or simply a peculiar human who holds a lifelong fascination with the denizens of the otherworld.”

Then he smiled at you for the first time, truly smiled, a smile as lovely as his name and no doubt the most hauntingly beautiful sight you ever gazed upon.

[kingofsummer93]

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: AU. Art by @carasalexandra

It was wrong, so wrong, that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted to reach out a hand towards him and feel his skin, just to see if she could feel that flame that coursed through his veins… “I’ll make you my bride this time, Princess.” His words sent a little shiver through her. On the surface they sounded menacing, but she knew the threat was empty. She’d figured that out a long time ago. “And if I refuse?” she countered.  Her tone might have been slightly more petulant than she had planned, and she momentarily froze. But then that flame in his eyes intensified, and his wicked grin widened. “Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

BEHOLD: Lucien VanBowser and Princess Elain. Excerpt above is from my fic On Waves of Blue.

This commission was so fun to work on! The artist did an amazing job and I love the ethereal quality to it. What do we think Lucien is whispering in her ear to make Elain so distracted?

[hahskeleton]

the wisps!!

BEHOLD; Wisp!Lunar and Wisp!Jack!!

their lore blow…. :)

These two are in fact brothers and they are wisps! Spirits that were once humans that were killed and became one with the forest!! They live together in a VERY large tree deep, deep in the forest several miles from where your village and your cottage is. They are fairly small little creatures, both being about a foot and a half tall, but Lunar— having been the oldest— is about an inch or two taller than Jack.

Lunar and Jack are responsible for balance in the forests and are also responsible for magic being used by humans, which is all contained in a little journal buried away in your attic. (Guess who finds the journal. I’ll give you two guesses)

Eventually, you’ll get to a part in the fic where you do in fact find out how Lunar and Jack died and who killed them. Bonus fact: Lunar and Eclipse have some beef….

if you have questions about these two or any of my harpy boys din’t be afraid to ask! I love asking questions you guys have!

[bigsexiest]

What’s a little rain?

So this is my first smutty fic and hopefully it’s not as cringe as I think it is. It’s kinda long but it started as a cute idea I thought of when reading @sentientgolfball ‘s ‘Cant Get Enough’ fic. I didn't proofread since my laptop is abt to die. Idk i hope you like it.

Word count: 2361

Summary: Swiss is scared of thunderstorms, so Rain distracts him.

Swiss had always been afraid of thunderstorms. Something about it reminded him too much of his time in the pit. It makes him sad that he doesn’t enjoy storms as much as Rain and Mountain do. He envies their happiness as they run together through the halls of the ministry, trying to get outside. He’ll watch them from his window; Mountain splashing in the muddy puddles, and Rain diving into his lake. Swiss will watch them until the lightning becomes too frequent and the thunder becomes too frightening. Then he’ll close his curtains and dive under his covers, trying to keep the images of his friends having fun at the forefront of his mind. Eventually, the sound of his own labored breathing and whines will give way to snores and Swiss will awaken to clear skies wondering if he could’ve been brave.

He wants so badly to be brave. Swiss wants to be able to run through the halls with his two friends, happier than ever that the thunder is rolling through the valley. He wants to roll around in the wet grass with Mountain and he wants to play in the splashing water with Rain. But everytime there’s a storm he’s reminded of his own cowardice.

From what he understands, no other ghoul knows of his fear. They don’t notice the way he always retreats to his room at the first distant boom of thunder. Or if the skies turn a deep gray, he returns to the ghoul den immediately. It’s not like they can hear his whimpering over the sound of the storm, either. Swiss doesn’t know if this is for the better. He’d probably fare better with the soothing company of another ghoul, but he finds his fear somewhat embarrassing.

It’s humiliating to be the only ghoul who can’t handle a simple storm. He knows rationally that there’s nothing to be afraid of. He’s indoors with a roof over his head. Even Rain who goes outside during every storm has never once returned with anything other than a feeling of deep satisfaction. Sometimes Rain will go out alone, or he’ll bring a whole group of ghouls to have fun with him. 

Swiss remembers looking out his window to look for the water ghoul and finding quite the impressive sight to behold. Rain, Dew, Mountain, Aether, and Cumulus were all outside naked on the muddy ground in a pile together beside the lake. It was hard to see, but Swiss was rather certain something very inappropriate was going on. He could see Rain writhing on his back with Mountain and Dew at his sides. Whatever was going on was blocked by Aether’s body furiously slamming against Rain’s hips. Cumulus had been firmly seated on Rain’s face. 

Swiss had never felt more turned on yet left out before in his life. He was sure they’d have invited him if he had asked, but he couldn’t bring himself to run to them like he’d have wanted. He wanted to pull at his own cock which was firmly erect within his trousers, but the sound of another roll of thunder ruined his arousal. With his tail tucked between his legs, he once again crawled beneath his covers ready to hyperventilate his way to sleep.

Now, he could hear the very distant rumble of an oncoming thunderstorm. He had been sitting curled in an armchair within the ghoul den, dozing during the hazy hours of a late afternoon. Rain had been clattering around with various pots and pans in the kitchen. None of the other ghouls were around. Sister had taken Dew and Aether with her and Papa on some Ministry business thing. The girls had decided to go on some sort of camping trip for the weekend. And Mountain was off visiting some weird garden he had been yapping about. Swiss had found himself purring at the cozy ambience of being in the solitary presence of Rain. 

At the sound his eyes had snapped open with a small whine escaping his mouth. His calm had been thoroughly destroyed by the promise of what was to come. Rain, on the other hand, stomped from the kitchen to the living room to find Swiss. He still had a pan in his hand and tomato sauce smeared on his cheek. He looked insane with a wide smile on his face and bright eyes staring right at Swiss.

“Let’s go have some fun.” Rain’s tone left no room for argument, though Swiss felt sick to his stomach. He was excited for what Rain might do to him, but he was terrified of finally leaving the safety of his room. And to go outside into the thick of it, no less.

If Swiss’s face had shown any clue about how he really felt, Rain didn’t say anything. He just dropped the pan and grabbed Swiss’s arm, dragging him through the halls at a very fast pace. 

Swiss wanted to stop him but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. When they finally reached the doors leading to the lake, Swiss was happy to find that it hadn’t started pouring yet. It was only sprinkling and the sky was still a little bright.

Rain was still holding Swiss’s arm, trying to drag him all the way to the lake, but Swiss finally dug his heels into the ground and told Rain to wait.

Swiss felt tears building, but he couldn’t stop now. He felt humiliated but he wanted Rain to know how hard this was for him. He was able to say “I’m scared of thunderstorms, Rain”, as he was clutching at Rain’s hands trying to find comfort.

He wished more than anything that he could have been in the dry safety of his own room, beneath the warm covers that had protected him during every storm. But he had come too far now, he wasn’t going to back down.

Rain’s face was a weird mix of confusion and worry. He didn’t mean to hurt Swiss, he just couldn’t imagine someone not loving thunderstorms. Rain relished the feeling of a downpour on his skin. Especially when he was naked and the drops would wash down him. He loved the sensation. But he didn’t want to make Swiss uncomfortable.

Rain was starting to profusely apologize and trying to drag Swiss back inside, when Swiss clarified that he wanted to stay outside with Rain.

“I want to enjoy the rain like you enjoy it, Rainy,” He had grabbed Rain’s arms and was looking directly into the water ghoul’s eyes, which had started to glow a blueish hue as the rain started falling harder. “I watch you out here sometimes, from my window.”

Rain was speechless. He had started blushing. He knew what happened sometimes in the hardest rainfalls of the season. Something about the weather makes him horny. He had always thought it had been a private event, everyone else too focused at looking up at the clouds through the windows to think of looking down. 

But he was quickly thrown from his thoughts as a considerably loud clap of thunder marked the start of a torrential downpour. The rain had started falling in what felt like sheets, instantly soaking the two ghoul’s clothes. Rain could see Swiss’s eyes shut tight and his shoulders hunched down, like he was trying to hide himself. His hands were still on Rain’s arms but his claws were digging into the meat of Rain’s forearms. 

“Swiss, can you look at me?” Rain could see the Multi ghoul was slightly shaking. Eventually he opened his eyes to look at Rain.

Here is where Rain found the incentive to peel his soaking wet clothes off his warm skin. He started with his shirt, making sure Swiss was watching the entire time. When he got down to his underwear, he made sure Swiss could see how aroused he was.

Rain, being fully naked, now instructed Swiss to follow along towards the edge of the lake where Rain told Swiss to strip as well.

Despite the few softer thunderclaps, Swiss’s attention was fully on Rain. Rain was aware of how he changed when in contact with his element, and he tired of it’s affect on other ghouls. His skin starts to glow so he stands out from his surroundings, and his webbing and gills became iridescent.

As Swiss was stepping out of his jeans, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way Rain’s gills fluttered as raindrops raced down his chest and neck. Some of the drops got lost within his gills, and Swiss couldn’t stop thinking about chasing them with his tongue.

Lucky for him, Rain was putting his mouth to good use in a different way. 

Swiss watched as Rain layed down in the shallowest part of the lake, with his back, shoulder, and head partially submerged in the water. Swiss still couldn’t keep his eyes off the way the water lapped at Rain’s gills. It was invigorating to watch them work halfway out of the water. Rain’s lower half was still on the shore his erect cock throbbing on his stomach.

Swiss’s mouth started watering at the sight of Rain’s red tip, bobbing for attention.

Sitting up on his elbows, Rain motioned for Swiss to start sucking him off. Instead of fucking Swiss’s mouth like Rain often did, he encouraged the Multi ghoul to go slow and steady. 

Swiss can’t help but tug at his own forgotten erection. Feeling the rough tip of Rain’s cock slide from his lips, against the roof of his mouth, all the way deep down his throat made him feel like his was going to lose his mind. He started whining when Rain told him to slow down even more.

His cheeks were bright red, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle at Rain’s pubic bone every time his cock reached deep in Swiss’s throat. He started gagging when Rain reached down to grab and stroke at Swiss’s neck, feeling the way his cock bulged out.

Rain told him to breathe through his nose and take his time. The tears falling down Swiss’s face had nothing to do with thunder anymore.

When he started to hollow his cheeks and stroke at the underside of Rain’s cock with his tongue, Rain involuntarily bucked his hips stuffing Swiss’s mouth even more.

Swiss had abandoned stroking his own cock in favor of squeezing Rain’s hips with both hands and grinding into the sandy shore beneath him.

Rain felt like he was choking despite gasping in heavy lungfulls of air. Swiss’s mouth was so warm and wet, and the rain falling was so cold and refreshing. The water of the lake lapping around his head and shoulders contrasted the influx of pleasure he was receiving from his pelvic region. His nipples had pebbled with the combination of all the sensations. His hands wandered their way down to tangle in Swiss’s hair. He had been on the edge of cumming from the very moment Swiss had started swallowing slowly around his length. But he had held off because he wanted to keep the beautiful Multi ghoul distracted from the storm for a little longer. Rain wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off for.

Swiss had started to moan with his mouth full, doing his best not to speed up the pace Rain had set. His mind had started to feel cloudy with pleasure, and all he could focus on was the way Rain’s dick was throbbing with heat dragging back and forth from his lips to deep in his throat. He had stopped making the movements, his head being dragged up and down by Rain’s hand threaded in his hair. He kept swallowing, trying to keep his spit from making a mess, but it was still dribbling out every time Rain pushed Swiss’s head deep onto his cock. It had started to pool on Rain’s pubic bone and balls.

When Rain felt the telltale sign of his release, he couldn’t help but smash Swiss’s head firmly onto his lap. Rain’s entire body bowed forward like he was doing a crunch, his shoulders fully off the ground and his legs slightly raised on either side of Swiss’s body. He used both hands to trap Swiss on his cock until he was finished. 

Swiss’s nose was smushed into the soft skin of Rain’s wet belly, and he continued swallowing Rain’s thick cum until it had all dissapeared down his throat.

In the aftershock’s of his orgasm Rain had fallen back down into the water, but Swiss hadn’t lifted his head away. Rain groaned with overstimulation and continued to softy buck his hips up with the aftershocks.

Swiss was still lost in the comforting headspace the sloppy blowjob had given him. He could faintly feel the warm buzzing sensation of the afterhaze of an orgasm emanating from his own cock, but he had little understanding of anything that was going on. Swiss was sure he had cum, but he wasn’t sure when. He could barely hear the rain anymore, and his own body had been filled with a numb fuzzy sensation. He can’t think of a time where he’s ever been more satisfied. He doesn’t want Rain’s cock to ever leave his mouth.

Rain never wanted to leave the water, but he knew he couldn’t leave Swiss to fall asleep in the afterglow, still impaled on Rain’s softening cock. Rain was surprised to see Swiss’s skin and sleepy eyes glowing in the same way Rain’s do. Maybe he was part water ghoul after all. 

Rain decided to grab Swiss from under his arms and drag him forward off of his cock and into the lake. It’s there that they continue to float like otters, Swiss on top of Rain, until well after the storm has passed.