#hi!!!!! sorry this is the only thing I've drawn in like a week. I got busy freaking the fuck out about moving back in with my parents :)

[forgetful-river]

No rest for the wicked I suppose

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[sameschmidtdiffname]

MIKE SMUT SMTH ABT HIS THIGHS AND HE S ALSO SUBBY PLSSSSS

DAAAAAAAAAARLIIIIIIIIIIING!

GUESS WHO JUST BROKE THEIR TWO WEEK BREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK!

Pretty

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Men are so pretty. And they can be so stupid. And who doesn't like stupid, pretty toys?

Tags: No specified sex for Reader, Reader is referred to with a male title at one point for sexual purposes (which one I won't say, but it's not daddy! I will say that), otherwise no gendered pronouns used for Reader, sub! Mike, dom! Reader, dynamic switch, accidental kink reveal, thigh admiration (this was not as focused on thighs as I intended, honestly. I'm sorry lmao), Mike gets used like a BITCH, and I mean a BITCH. Bro gets DOGGED, bro gets USED, bro may be PREGNANT after this (he ain't, no mpreg, I'm just being funny), humping, biting, french kissing, marking, choking, just have fun with this. It's a treat for all!

Notes: I'M STILL ON A BREAK! BUT, you guys have been so sweet and so nice. So, a drabble, because I love you all and you deserve it <3

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I've always admired hands.

Strong hands, working hands. One of the first things I look for in men is if their hands look like they're capable of long lasting, almost back breaking labor.

The second thing I look for is shoulders. Preferably broad, capable of holding the third thing I look for. Which would be

Thighs.

I don't even have a particular taste for what those look like. The desire doesn't lie within the looks, although I could certainly spend a fair amount of my time stealing glances towards a fine, large pair. Straining against the material of their pants, spread out over a chair, doubling in size once someone sits. No, the desire lies in how sensitive they seem to be. Just a ghostly touch of your hands or lips upon the soft skin can usually send someone reeling. Can make someone sing such a soft, quiet note so raw and genuine before you've even drawn near to the area they want you the most.

I should've touched him sooner like this.

Mike Schmidt doesn't pretend to be a macho man. He's not insecure of his masculinity, he raises his little sister, goes to work, comes to bed. He doesn't have time to worry about being a man's man.

I can attest, however. Once in the bedroom, he has absolutely no issue with expressing his masculinity.

In any way, shape or form.

"Touch me," he moans breathily, bucking his fully clothed hips towards me in a desperate, needing manner.

I never said masculinity involves domination.

It'd just started with us cuddling on the couch. Abby out at a friend's, us snuggled under a warm blanket at home on the couch. The comforter to his bed, to be specific. Everything else was too small or too cold for us, so we just dragged it out. The old TV in front of us displaying a rerun of a movie we were only halfway paying attention to, both of us beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Mike had wrapped me under his arm, placing a soft kiss on my forehead every now and then when he decided it'd been too long since he last had. I was pressed against his side, one hand on his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles.

Here's the fun thing about guys. Half the time they are so touch starved, it takes nothing to get them going. And that's fun.

I didn't realize why Mike was beginning to shift in his seat some. Why his heartbeat against my ear had picked up, why his breathing was getting somewhat shaky. Tell tale signs of something, but honestly I figured it was the movie. It wasn't until he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, then trailed down to my cheek, my jaw, and began nipping at my neck that it began to dawn on me.

"What's got you in a mood?" I chuckled, my fingers digging I just a little more to his warm, covered flesh.

"Nothing," he said breathily in my ear, his tongue beginning to trace my jawline. "Just thought you looked pretty."

I call his bluff when I dig into a tense muscle, a loud, pathetic moan escaping him that he tries to quickly stiffle in my neck. Moaning and biting at me, his hand beginning to search my chest to graze his fingers against my sensitive nipples, easy to play with under the smooth material of Mike's stolen, cotton shirt.

"Ah," I say, continuing to rub as he pants eagerly against me. "I see."

Mike's trying to maneuver us so that he can position himself on top of me, and regularly I would agree, but I'm not quite done with my new toy just yet.

"Let me up," I say into his ear, trying to pull away. Mike simply moans into my skin, biting harder as his fingers finally wrap around my already stiff nipple, tugging at it, making me moan in harmony to him. "Mike," I say, trying to ground us both.

Mike doesn't care, his other hand searching for my thighs, knowing how much I like for mine to be played with before he spends hours between my legs, gasping, choking, and grinning ear to ear with pride after swallowing whatever amount of cum I'd given him. His teeth sink into my neck again, this time not just playful. Digging in and making me cry out in slight pain, yet pleasure coursing through me as my eyes roll back into my head.

"So pretty," Mike moans against me, his voice soft and high. His lashes flutter butterfly kisses against my forming bruises while his lips trail to my collarbone, his stiff cock brushing against my hand as he shifts.

This is what settles the idea in my mind.

My hand snaps up, pulling harshly at Mike's dark, almost black curls, tugging until his head had snapped all the way backwards, exposing the tan skin of his throat to me. Eagerly, I lick a long, wide stripe up his throat, from bottom to top until I can clearly feel the prickly stubble of his facial hair on my tongue. His adams apple bobs under the wet muscle as he moans openly, a moan that only increases in volume and pitch once I bite roughly into the side of his neck, not allowing him a chance to escape as I keep my tight grip on his curls.

"Fu-ck," he drawls, his voice breaking as he begins to allow me to guide him to my desires, laying him on his back against the worn down couch, his hips subconsciously rolling towards me in anxiety for my touch.

"So pretty," I breathe in his ear, a soft whimper escaping him as his blush deepens, accenting the subtle freckles that decorate his skin like the stars decorate the night sky. I've tried to kiss each one, knowing the task was futile, but was well rewarded by the puddle of mush he'd dissolved into as my lips had trailed against his tan skin. Mike tries to turn his face away from me to hide the blush, unsure of how else to handle the compliment.

God, I love men. They're idiots.

I grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open and adoring the pathetic whine that escapes him as I shove my tongue into his mouth, his eyes half open, watching me as he gives in to the kiss, his hands tugging at my shirt as he humps against nothing, pent up and stupid underneath of me.

They're so cute, right?

When I pull away, a long string of spit still connects us, his eyes obediently trained on me as I pin him down against the couch by his throat, anticipating my next move. I move myself to tower over him, his mouth still open as he pants, and I spit into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't complain. Hell, by the glint in his eyes, you'd think he'd thank me. Though he doesn't.

It's fine. He will soon enough.

I lower myself along his body, my hands once more finding his thick thighs and squeezing them, admiring the firmness underneath of his shorts.

"Have I told you I love your thighs?" I ask, my breath fanning against his covered erection. Mike simply moans.

"I do. Watch them all the time. Don't even realize I'm doing it, honestly," I say. I lean down, placing a feather light kiss on his hip. He whines. "They're so pretty. Just like the rest of you."

His hips buck towards me, his cock obviously twitching underneath the material.

"Touch me," he moans, his face pink and halfway covered with his hand. I reach up and grab his hand away, smacking swiftly at his thigh.

"Be good," I snap, earning me a sharp gasp as he writhes underneath of me, mumbling some sort of agreement.

"Good," I praise softly. "Good. See, that wasn't so hard."

My lips start at his knee, kissing there and beginning to work their way up as he clasps his hands above his head, teeth gritted in an attempt to stay quiet.

"You can moan," I tell him, my other hand slipping underneath the pant legs of his shorts. "I like the pretty sounds you make."

Pretty. I didn't know that was his trick word. The word that could force him into a pathetic, begging mess that can't even keep eye contact. Oh, he's beautiful. Bite marks blooming against his skin, such a deep blush, tossled curls. His soft abdomen shutters with each unsteady breath, slightly exposed, his happy trail dark against his skin and leading to the place that shows how he wants me. His tongue darting out to lick his lips so often they'll be chapped by the end of the night from overstimulation. That's his tell that he's close.

"What, pretty boy gonna cum in his pants?" I ask, my hand trailing along his hot skin and digging my nails in to make him sing. His back arches slightly, eyes trained on the ceiling as his mouth opens in an almost silent gasp.

"No," he clearly lies, his hips subtly moving of their own accord.

"You look like such a pretty mess!" I chuckle against his skin, pressing a soft kiss on his lower thigh. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

He doesn't respond to this, clearly lost in his thoughts.

"Michael," I say, voice slightly firm. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Mike rolls his eyes, huffing and not obeying. Aw. Cute.

My hands grip underneath of his knees, quickly shoving them to meet his shoulders, eyes wide as he gasps at the maneuver he's done to me so many times I can't even count. Shoved into a mating press, I grind my hips against him, pounding against him quickly and harshly, relishing the broken sounds he makes as I hump him hard enough his head is bouncing against the arm of the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as they roll into the back of his head.

"It's a simple request," I hiss against his skin, rewarded with a loud moan. "I didn't ask for your fuckin' attitude."

The glint in his eyes when they open unintentionally shows he's fine with this response, happy to take more and more until he really does cum with hardly any stimulation to his cock. His mouth is open, tongue peaking out from behind his bottom teeth, his breathing on the cusp of hyperventilating as he submits to my touch.

"Is it so hard?" I ask, keeping even time with my abusive pace. "To just listen to me?"

"No, sir," Mike moans happily.

Oh?

"What was that?" I ask, leaning closer as I shove his knees harder against his shoulders. His eyes snap open, dead ahead on the ceiling as his mind clearly tries to process what to say next.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

"Bullshit," I snap, adjusting my grip so one arm pins his knees so that my hand can snake down between us and smack at his ass in scolding. "Repeat yourself."

"I don't know what I said," he says quickly, avoiding eye contact.

I smack again, this time hard enough he cries out.

"Say it," I seethe, increasing my tempo and pounding harder against him until he looks like he may cry, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as he pants like a whore underneath of me.

"Sir," he finally admits, shame burning bright in his cheeks. "I called you sir."

I toss his legs onto my shoulders, my hand now finding his throat as I hump him into the bed, rewarding his honestly.

"I see," I drawl, not relenting my pace nor strength. "Someone's into getting used."

This seems to roll him over the edge, his face bright and relaxing as his eyes flutter shut, only for me to bite at his bottom lip, causing them to open again.

"Watch me," I command, biting harshly into his lip. "I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum like a good toy."

His eyes widen slightly, his mouth slack as he obeys. The moment I release his lip his tongue darts out to wet it, lingering over the soft bite marks.

"It's alright, you can do it," I say softly, choking him slightly harder. "Let me watch, then I'll let you fuck me however you want."

His eyes are pleading, begging for more.

"You want something? Use your words," I tell him, slamming particularly hard this time, hard enough his head slams into the couch concerningly. But he doesn't mind, does he?

"Kiss me," he breathes, so light, the request sounds innocent and sweet compared to the way I'm abusing him on his own couch. I comply, pressing my lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss that he whines into, his lips parting and tongue slipping against my lips in a sloppy, pleading, silent request. And how can I say no?

I part my lips for him, enjoying the way he arches into the kiss, moaning as our tongues slide together in a messy, graceless fight for control. My lips trap the tip of his tongue, sucking on it and tugging it upwards harshly as he cries out, his hips beating against mine as his lashes flutter shut once more, but this time I don't scold him. I simply grind against him as hard and as fast as my tiring body will allow, guiding him through his overwhelming orgasm, the sounds of his crystal clear moans cutting through the air, perfectly complimenting his red face, glistening eyes and shaking body.

"That's it," I coo in his ear. "That's a good toy. Just let me fuck you."

He's stupid and lost to the world, his cock twitching pathetically as thick ropes of cum decorate the inside of his shorts, making the material stick to his skin, overstimulating him as I begin to lessen my pace, beginning to give him grace he no longer has words to ask for.

"So pretty," I whisper as I try to kiss each tiny freckle on his beet red nose, his breath hot against my throat as he tries to regain his focus. "So pretty, and mine."

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Mike slurs stupidly underneath of me, his legs still trembling on my shoulders.

I giggle, smiling as I lean down to place another kiss, sweet this time, against Mike's swollen, glossy lips.

"I dunno," I say, shrugging. Mike whimpers as I pull away.

"Guess I just thought you were pretty."

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm 100% gonna be late for work because of this, but worth it

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[luvkyu]

what are we? ( park jongseong/jay )

jay x male!reader

jay and his best friend define their relationship.

content : 1.5k words, fluff, high school!au, bub pet name toward reader

a long, drawn out yawn left y/n's mouth as he looked out of the window in his last class of the day. his closed palm supported his chin on top of his desk, completely spaced out.

"y/n?.. bub!"

y/n snapped of his trance to see his friend standing by his desk now.

"class is over?" y/n asked as he looked around to see everyone gathering their things. jay snickered and nodded.

"daydreaming again? you can borrow my notes again if you need to," jay offered. y/n clicked his tongue as he stuffed his books carelessly into his bag. jay smiled to himself, watching him struggle with the tetris game that is fitting everything into one bag.

"sorry that i don't really care when some not-really-that-important person in history took a shit in 1875 or whatever," y/n responded with another yawn.

jay rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out for his friend to take. y/n finally stood up from his desk before seeing the gesture. he happily took jay's hand as he swung his bag over his shoulder. jay then led the way out of the classroom, following other eager students who were ready to get home.

y/n felt his heartbeat intensify just like it always did when jay held his hand. no matter how many times he silently scolded himself, the feeling never went away. the pair had been friends since their first year of middle school, and y/n's feelings seemed to grow by the day. it didn't help that their peers would ask frequently if they were dating yet, as they were usually holding hands or displaying other kinds of affection. y/n always assumed jay just didn't care what others said or thought, but he was starting to grow desperate to know if the male really only saw him as a friend.

"oh hey, i forgot," jay's voice cut through the noise of the hallway while the two stopped at their lockers, "tonight is the film festival i told you about like a week ago. i know it's short notice, but do you wanna go with me?"

y/n's eyes brightened in excitement at the invitation. there was nothing he'd rather be doing on his friday night than spending time with jay.

"of course, that sounds fun!" he replied. jay nodded, turning his face away from the other to hide his smile.

"cool. well, i have a study group i'm meeting in five minutes, but i can pick you up later and we can go together?"

"sure, that works!"

jay closed his locker while nodding again at the reply. he ruffled y/n's hair fondly before putting his newly filled backpack on.

"i'll text you, bub."

y/n nodded and watched him turn to head toward the library. his nerves, as usual, were left a mess from the nickname jay frequently used. he finally looked away when jay turned a corner, out of sight. he then resumed moving the rest of his books and materials into his bag and closed his small locker door.

before turning to leave, he saw another friend skipping toward him energetically.

"woah, this is the first time i've seen you not with your boyfriend, y/n!" sunoo exclaimed, stopping in front of him. y/n rolled his eyes.

"not my boyfriend, sunoo."

"tsk, sure. not yet."

y/n scrolled through his instagram feed as the opening credits of a film began to play. he was now sitting on a blanket that jay had brought along to the festival. the male had just left to get them snacks and drinks, insisting that y/n stay and relax.

the weather was perfect for a movie night. there was a large screen set up and fairy lights streamed in a few places. many other people were scattered across the grassy hill with blankets and comfy chairs. y/n couldn't help but notice all the couples. he hadn't thought about the fact that the film festival would be filled with couples on dates. the idea of this being a date with jay then seeped into his mind, and it made chills go up his arms.

"okay, i got popcorn and some candy and drinks!" jay's eager voice brought the other out of his thoughts.

"oh, thank you," y/n responded. his cheeks now glowed with a bright pink, which didn't go unnoticed.

y/n watched jay sit down closely next to him, getting settled with the snacks. jay took another large blanket and draped it over their legs while y/n decided to brush off his thoughts for now. if he focused on such things, he knew he wouldn't be able to really enjoy their night together, date or not.

"you okay, bub?"

y/n looked at him and gave him a convincing smile.

"i'm fine!"

jay grinned at the cute response and nodded before the duo turned their attention to the screen and began eating.

throughout the movie, they managed to finish their popcorn and naturally move closer to each other without a thought. jay's arm soon hung around y/n's shoulder while the latter's head rested on his chest. this was nothing abnormal for the pair, having cuddled many times before, but something felt off. something different was in the air between them tonight and y/n couldn't decide if he was crazy or if jay could feel it too.

"open," jay said quietly as he held two pieces of candy in front of his friend's mouth. y/n smiled and obliged before jay fed him one piece and popped the second into his own mouth. y/n looked up at him, but jay's gaze was already turned back to the film.

y/n's line of sight suddenly landed on his other friend from a ways away. sunoo was comfortable with sunghoon on their own blanket, but sunoo's view was trapped on y/n and jay, making kissy faces toward them. y/n felt his anxiety rise, hoping jay wouldn't see.

to y/n's relief, sunghoon saw sunoo's teasing. unsurprised, he simply turned sunoo's head back to the screen and pat his head as if saying, 'now stay'. y/n made a mental note to thank sunghoon later.

eventually, the film finally ended and chatter filled the area. jay yawned lightly while y/n stretched in his arms.

"there's another one playing right?" y/n asked.

"yeah, but i think there's a small break before it starts."

y/n nodded and sat up to stretch a bit more. jay gazed at his friend, a little disappointed at the loss of closeness. he watched y/n run a hand through his hair and then check his phone for any notifications. jay felt mesmerized by the view, but could feel nervousness sprout in his chest. he didn't think this was how just friends were supposed to feel. he'd been unable to decipher his feelings in the past, but lately they'd become much clearer.

jay's thoughts were cut off as y/n set his phone down and went back to cuddle him. he now laid on top of jay with his head on his chest again, jay's hands going to play with his hair.

jay couldn't stop a smile from curving on his lips. he somehow felt his confidence bubble up in that moment, deciding to finally go for it. but before he could speak, y/n beat him to it.

"jay?"

"hm?"

"what are we?"

jay's heart skipped a beat.

"oh.. well," he paused. what exactly were they? y/n meant the world to him. he was the first person he thought of in the morning. he was the first person he shared good news with. y/n was just everything.

"we're best friends," jay finally said. he couldn't quite read y/n's reaction, but decided to continue anyways.

"but i'd like to be more."

y/n's face brightened now, a little shocked.

"really?? like.." he stopped while jay smiled again and nodded.

"like boyfriends," jay finished for him.

y/n's whole face went red, unable to stop his own smile now.

'boyfriends', he thought. the simple word ran on repeat in his head for a minute. this couldn't possibly be reality.

"boyfriends.. jay's boyfriend. y/n and jay boyfriends," y/n mumbled in awe. jay laughed lightly at his disbelief.

"you're so cute.. is that a yes, then? ..boyfriends?" jay asked. y/n finally looked at him again and nodded happily.

"boyfriends," he replied as he tightened his arms around him. jay quickly hugged him back as they laid on their blanket in content.

"y/n?"

the male looked up again at the sound of his name, meeting jay's gentle eyes.

"can i kiss you?" he asked. y/n's smile somehow grew even bigger. he nodded again before jay moved to press their lips together softly.

once separated, jay pulled their second blanket back over them as the next film's intro began playing. y/n's head rested on his chest again, not really caring much for the film as nothing could quite amount to the comfort of his new boyfriend.

[dinogoofymutated]

So I'm warming up to the idea of Cable now with this new animation style. And now I can't help but imagine a mutant reader seeing him shirtless for the first time 👉🏽👈🏽. Maybe she's helping him treat a wound he cant reach on his back and he's too worn out to rely on his telekinesis for it. Sure she knows that he has a metal arm. Techno-organic viruses were nasty business. But she never imagined she'd get to see the stark contrast of metal and flesh up close. Just a tender moment where she gets to see him at his most vulnerable. Preferably sfw. Sorry if this is too long winded or specific. Really love your writing and enjoy what you share with us regardless if u choose this one or not 🫶🏽

SFW!Cable/GN!Reader OOOOGHHHH when I tell you I have been thinking about this since you sent me the ask!! I've been dying to write this but forced myself to follow a schedule :( I've never really been a Cable girly but this scenario has been in my head non-stop! I just hope this fic does the same to others!!! Speaking of which, I hope this isn't too OOC for him! This also might get a pt 2 with some smooching 😘

Read pt. 2 Here :)

-Ps- Heads up, finals week is coming up for me and I have a lot of essays and work to do. my writing is sadly going to slow down a bit. I don't think I'm going to close requests for now but it's not out of the realm of possibility! TWs: Can't really think of any. Gross depictions of techno-organic shit. As always, Reader written while picturing fem! but no pronouns mentioned. The reader is short in this one, sorry to all my Amazonian friends.

    Prime sentinels were like wasps. Squashing one could be relatively easy with the right tools, but it was difficult to handle multiples at once. It had been a rough day, and your ears were still ringing from the sounds of blaster fire when you got to the safe house. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, body exhausted from overusing your mutant powers. Bruises are forming all over you, and despite the pain and soreness, you know you got off easy compared to Cable. 

    He’s got an arm slung around your shoulder, using you as a crutch as you help him limp over to the table- although you’re sure you’re not a very good one, too short for him to properly lean on. His gun clanks on the floor as he sits, grunting as the movement sends shooting pains through his body. You can tell his left arm is aching, the techno-organic virus fighting to beat the telekinetic powers keeping them still. You weren’t the only one who overdid it today, but you also weren’t the one who had to keep a virus from eating you alive.

    Once Cable is settled, the routine starts. You cautiously make a round through the safe house, making sure blinds are drawn and entryways secured. Usually, the task was split between the two of you, being faster and safer than it would be alone- but he would take it over when you were badly hurt. It was only natural that you would do the same. You feel the sting of anxiety and worry in your heart. Cable had saved your ass today. He had done so many times, but normally the fighting wasn’t this extreme. You had been stupid, and he was suffering the consequences. 

    A series of pained grunts lead you back into the kitchen once you’ve finished, and you can tell Cable is pissed just by the tone of them. You’re facing his back when you walk in, noticing the large red stain that spans across the width of his shoulders. You try to hide the worry on your face as you approach him. He has the medkit sprawled out on the counter, sorting through the various items in it.

    “Can’t believe this thing doesn’t have a damn mirror.” He grunts. You hum in response, looking him over before examining the items on the table.

    “What do you need a mirror for?” You ask, voice coming out a little hoarse. You clear your throat, must be from the smoke earlier. Cable sends you a look, tossing his head towards his back. You mouth an “oh” before looking at him, unable to hide your worried expression. You’d seen him stitch his wounds up with his telekinesis before, when the fight was all guns and no powers. An action like that was child’s play for someone of his capabilities. For him to actively avoid it, and the way his arm seemed to be bothering him more than normal… It made you worried. It made you feel guilty. 

    You look down at the suture kit, open on the table from where Cable had unzipped it, and then look back at him, wordlessly asking. He gives you a cautious look for a moment, before it shifts into something much softer. He doesn’t bother nodding, choosing to simply take his shirt off instead.

    You blush a little but quickly get to work, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. They’re too big for you, meant to fit Cable’s sturdy hands instead of your own smaller ones. You try not to get distracted by the sight of him shirtless as you pick up what you need and get behind him. The air has shifted between the two of you, forming into something a little more intimate. Something that builds itself on words unspoken, truths that neither of you is quite ready to communicate yet.

    His back is broad and beautiful, dotted with scars and bruises. The gash on his shoulders is from a stray blast, starting at the top of his left shoulder and ending at the lower shoulder blade of his right. 

    You’re not sure if you had been ready to see the cut-off between flesh and metal.

    The cords of metal attach to the skin of his shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. They sprout from underneath the skin, winding against each other in a way that makes no clear sense to you. The top layers of skin are rough, keloid scarring having formed at the impasse of skin and metal. It's horrific, the way the virus has both eaten and forced its way under the skin. The top of the gash is somewhat deep, the deep inner cording revealed by the wound cutting through the top of his skin has you unable to look away despite the horror that has taken you.

   “I can feel you staring, you know.” Cable’s rumbling voice causes you to snap back to reality.

    “Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You trail off, not fully able to place the words. He sighs, and you mistake it for annoyance. You quickly get back on track and begin to disinfect the wound. Cable hardly flinches as you do so. You’re overly cautious as you stitch him up, focusing on each stitch being perfectly placed. You know they wouldn’t stay for long. Cable had a habit of tearing his stitches. You hope that maybe you’d be able to keep that from happening this time.

   You place both hands on his shoulder blades when you are done. The nerves have worn off as the pseudo-doctor in you took over. You’re trying to examine the stitches, but find that your attention keeps being drawn back to that stark contrast of his shoulder. If Cable notices, he doesn’t say anything. You glance at the back of his head, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. 

    Your left hand drifts a little. Cable shudders as your thumb gently traces that line of scarring, the metal of his arm feeling extra cold compared to the heat of his skin. You’re waiting for him to say something. To tell you to back off. To grumble and shake you off and avoid speaking to you like he used to when you first started to work together- when he was so determined not to get attached. 

   But he doesn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. The tenseness of his shoulders slowly gives as the gentle touching morphed into more purposeful touches, working the stiff muscles- what was left of the organic ones, anyway. 

    It’s intimate. It’s quiet. It’s… nice. Part of you wishes it would last a little longer. Part of you wishes he would let you touch him like this more often. 

    Cable stiffens again as the thought crosses your mind, recoiling away from you. He stands suddenly, turning around to face you. His towering stature used to make you nervous out of fear. Now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. Part of you had forgotten about the glimpses he takes into your mind. A flicker of anxiety ignites when you realize how much he might have seen. The two of you just look at each other for a moment, his brown eyes hard compared to the softness from earlier. You hadn’t meant to think so much. You didn’t think he was horrific. It was the virus. What it was doing to him. The energy and effort it takes out of him. That was what scared you.

    Cable was used to the stares. The horror. Most recoiled at the sight of his flesh. It only made sense to him when you did too.

    But Nathan… Nathan wasn’t ready for the depth of your thoughts. The care in your eyes. He wasn’t ready for the depth of his own feelings. The ones that cause such a storm within him. The ones that cause him to be stupid. The ones that make him focus more on saving you than the goal of every mission.

    “Is this… Are we okay?” You ask. He didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the fear that has swelled within you. Most of your emotions were always written on your face. It made things easier for him when he didn’t have to search for your thoughts. That hardness in his eyes softens yet again, and he glances away for a moment. 

    “... Yeah.” Is all he says. His heart feels light when you finally smile at him, even though an underlying nervousness still resides behind that smile. You let out a relieved sigh, and he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Instead, he sits back down. He faces away from you, giving you the space to finish taking care of the wound on his back. 

    You don’t realize how late it is until you’re finished, and the mess on the counter has been cleaned and contained back in the medkit. The two of you sit together as you eat. The food isn’t great- consisting of an MRE that’s not exactly as advanced as the futuristic weapons and technology would lead you to believe. He doesn’t say anything when you lean on his shoulder, or when your breathing evens out, having fallen asleep on his side.

  The aches and pains don’t really bother Nathan as he carries you to bed, but the thoughts of you, your feelings, your thoughts… Those keep him awake longer than any wound would.

[insomniamamma]

Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist! Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! Thank you, Mayor El, for planting this seed. I am currently mulling over a tattoo much like the one described here.

Warnings: Angst. Talk about failed marriage. Reader is an empty nester. Reader has grown children. Mentions of self harm scars. Blood. I have tattoos but it's been decades and I've done a bit of research to figure out the current state of it. Any inaccuracies are on me. And yes, Pedro's red devil Met Gala look was my inspiration for tattoo artist! Ez.

A bit of flirting. It is Ezra after all. But mostly gentle fluff.

 A chain of bells on the door jingles as you push your way through, briefly glare-blind from the sudden dimness, green afterimages from the sizzling sidewalks, air-conditioned cold hits hard, and you stand, blinking and foolish as the girl behind the counter sizes you up, wild mullet of bleach-blonde hair, face set and disproving, black lacquered nails and ears spangled with golden studs and bars.  “I’m sorry— I’m a bit early, I can come back—“ And she smiles, big and open and wide--  “Oh, heck! You’re the tardigrade lady! Ez did a bunch of sketches. Lemme go grab him-“ and she rattles her way through the beaded curtain behind the register and disappears “Ezra! Your three o’clock is here—“    A co-worker had recommended Needles & Pins when you’d admired her ink, a half-sleeve magpie with a skeleton key in its beak and constellations drawn behind it like an old map. It’s in Secret Springs. That’s kind of a haul. Yeah, but Ezra’s one of the best in the business. You’ve got plenty of PTO piled up. You’re just gonna lose it if you don’t use it. You could get out of here for a bit. Yeah, maybe. And Moira gives you a pitying look. You both know the chances of you using any of that PTO are slim. This last year and change has been a rollercoaster ride, your youngest graduating summa cum laude and fucking off halfway across the country, some job at an aerospace start up that you can’t even begin to understand, but she seems happy, and the vice-gripped, duct taped, cobbled together thing that your marriage had become finally shat out. I love you, he’d said, but not the way you need me to. And on that humid night, watching heat-lightning flicker through the clouds, you say nothing, just nod, because he’s not wrong, the two of you have been holding on for a long time, for the kids, for appearances, and it’s like unclenching a fist. Kept it civil, he let you keep the house rather than selling it and splitting the difference, moved back home with his brothers and his dad, still talk about once a week, mostly about Lilly and the boys. Married so young that you never learned to be alone. So you throw yourself into your job, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it’s press your shoulder to the wheel and shove.You and Moira laugh together, but when you get home you start researching Needles and Pins and Secret Springs, tiny state park with campsites and trails, bracketed with BNB’s and small shops, strange gerrymandered artifact, small strip of beach that hasn’t been subsumed by hotel chains and timeshares. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on vacation, the last time you’ve done anything for you and no one else, and you’ve e-mailed Needles and Pins almost without thinking. Why not? Why the fuck not?

  Appointments only. No walk ins. High end. Serious inquiries only.   And part of you balked, new to this possibility, had your ears pierced at Claire’s when you were twelve or so, and you’d felt stupid when you sent the e-mail off with some images attached. Sorry to bother you.   What a lovely idea. Water bears and fireweed together speak of resilience. The awakening of something new after a time of trial. There are species of pine that require the heat of wildfire to dry out their cones enough to spread their seeds. I would gladly meet with you to discuss this further.   And that’s how you ended up here, in this air-conditioned cave, narrow space full of framed flash art and old maps and framed photos of Ezra and the girl behind the counter, C? Sea? You didn’t quite register her name, flustered by the cool dark in contrast to the blazing heat outside.   “No need to yell, Birdie, I’m comin-“ Ezra rattles through the curtain. Broad is the first thing you notice, loud is the second. He is a confusion of color, heavily inked arms and a Hawaiian shirt bedecked with flamingos in sunglasses, spangled ears and a gold ring through his lip, bright shock of blonde hair amid his unruly curls. Smiling bright and wide,   “Hi there,” he says, purred southern drawl, and offers his hand, “I’m Ezra.”  “I figured,” you say and take his hand, warm fingers around yours and then he folds his other hand over yours, and you see that his right hand is an elaborate prosthetic, his whole arm up to his shoulder,  gold on black, a fearsome dragon framed in blooming orchids. You barely have time to register this and Ezra is ushering you through the curtain.  “I am guessing by your demeanor that this is your first tattoo,” and you smile, but can’t quite meet his eyes, his hand finds yours again and squeezes gently. “I’ve got several sketches based on our initial discussion, but i want you to know up front, if the art is not to your liking or if you change your mind about this entire venture I’ll not judge you for it.  “But the deposit—“  “A formality. Tends to keep people who aren’t sure of themselves away. I will never ink someone who isn’t fully committed, if you decide this isn’t for you i will refund you. No harm no foul. No pressure, clear?”  “Yeah. We’re clear.” Ezra smiles, dimples sinking into his scruffy cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents.  “Excellent,” he says, “Let me show you what me and Cee came up with.”

 

 “That one.” A tardigrade drawn in the traditional style, brilliantly colored in blues and greens with bold outlines, with two crossed fireweed fronds in watercolor.  “This is an approximation-“ says Ezra, “I will replicate the colors as best I can—“  “That one.” You say, “I like the hard and soft together.”  “I do as well,” says Ezra, “I must admit that I was hoping you’d choose this design. Strength and softness are not mutually exclusive. I should warn you though.  Watercolor tattoos tend to fade a bit faster than the more traditional styles-“  “Sunscreen and plenty of it” you say, and he smiles.  “That’s right, and A&D ointment as you heal. There’s plenty of fancy tattoo healing ointments to be found but A&D has always got me through. Why fix what’s not  broken? We’ll send you home with some instructions.” He takes the sketch you’ve picked out, “Hey, Cee! Can you finagle the scanner-“ Cee pops her head and arm through the beaded curtain. She grins, devilish and sharp like a crescent moon. “Old man, still can’t figure it out, huh?” Takes the sketch from his hand.  “Oi! You are but a humble apprentice,” says Ezra, but he smiles, “An initiate! A novice even!” Cee smiles back. This seems like an exchange that happens at least three times a week, and you feel yourself smiling along with them.  “Get her prepped. I’ll do the hard part.”  “That girl,” he mutters, “You take a seat right there—“ He gestures towards a set up that looks uncomfortably like a dentist’s chair, “Cee has my station set up, I just need to glove up and we’ll talk placement.”  “Left inner arm,” You frown. You’d said so over e-mail. Can’t help but watch the flex and bend of him as he pulls a shoulder length veterinary glove over his prosthetic, and then gloves his left hand, “It’s a bitch to take apart and sanitize. I can if needs be, but best to avoid all of that. I cannot exactly autoclave this thing. And I find the calving glove less unwieldy than Saran Wrap-“  “Wait a sec, Saran Wrap? Like on a plate of leftovers?”  Ezra dimples at you.   “Exactly like that. First time Cee witnessed it, she laughed so hard i thought she might drop dead right there on the spot. Next morning there was a case-pack of calving gloves on our front stoop like some sort of-“  “It’s Amazon, Ez, not witchcraft,” says Cee, popping back through the curtain with a sheaf of papers, shoots you a knowing can you believe this guy look, “You’d be lost without me. Just admit it.” Ezra takes the papers from her.   “Go on now, don’t you have fanfic to read? What’s that Star Wars thing? Reylo?” Cee’s face scrunches in a cartoonish display of disgust.  “Man, I never should’ve told you about AO3.” And with that she’s gone.  “Your daughter’s really something.”  “She ain’t mine,” says Ezra, leafing through the stack of prints Cee handed him, draws a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and perches them on his nose, “I don’t have that honor. Her parents kicked her from the nest and she found her way here.” He holds two of the prints in front of his face. “Show me your arm.” And you offer him your left arm, hand turned palm up. He cradles your arm, runs his gloved fingers over the thin skin there, noting the network of silvered scars, like contrails in a hazy sky, because how can he not? Old enough to be flattened and flush with the rest of your skin, no one’s noticed in years, but you know he must and you tense, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just selects a printed sheet at holds it up to you arm.  “This the orientation you want?”  “Yeah, I want him standing on my hand. Um, Ezra, the scars-“  “won’t be a problem, darlin, they’re old and soft-“  “I’m not gonna screw up your handiwork,” you say, and he folds your hand in both of his, gentle pressure that grounds you and when you look up at him, his eyes are soft.  “I know you won’t,” he says, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.  We can rewrite this part of your story. I trust you.” 

 Ezra preps your skin, alcohol wipes and mild soap and he shaves your inner arm with a disposable razor, rubs some gooey stuff on you that makes you think of putting on aloe after a burn. Gotta let this dry a beat, he says, we want the stencil to come out nice and clean, rests his hand over yours while the transfer solution dries, got to let it get tacky, he says.  Not quite holding your hand but not letting go either.  “I should warn you, the bit over your inner wrist will likely be the most painful,” swipes his hand over your skin, testing the resistance against his glove, “Skin’s thin there. Not a whole lot of meat between the skin and all the veins and little fiddly bits.”  “Fiddly bits,” you echo, and feel yourself smile, “You mean the bones?”  “And tendons,” says Ezra, clips out the stencil.  “That looks like carbon paper,” you say, and Ezra grins, “It’s functionally the same, but Cee insists that the thermographic printer makes cleaner stencils than the old methods, so here we are.” He lays the sheet of paper over your arm, rubs at it with a balled up paper towel, “We want the transfer solution to soak into the paper. It’ll leave the stencil behind on your skin. There’s some tricks involving deodorant, but i find this method works the best-“ you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, face pinched in concentration, pout of his lips, those dark eyes focused on the strip of skin between your wrist and elbow like this bit of you is the only thing in the universe. “—hey! you still with me?”  “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”  “You got a hotel room for tonight? It’s not by business, but i know you’re not local and getting tattooed blows a surprising amount of adrenaline-“  “I’ve got a  room booked,” you say, “Up over Peli’s.”  “Hope you brought earplugs,” says Ezra, “That place can get a bit rowdy on a Friday night.”   “I’m counting on it,” you say, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar.”  “Hmm,” he rubs at the transfer paper, “Do you feel your skin tightening a bit? We should be just about ready. I’m gonna click the gun on for a beat so you can hear it.”   “I’m not scared.”  “Didn’t say you were.” says Ezra, “I find this tends to go easier if people know what to expect. This buzz and my endless yap are going to be filling your ears for the next few hours-“  “It’s not bad. The tattoo machine, I mean.” And Ezra grins, slow curve that just hints at a dimple.   “My Ma always said my tongue is hung in the middle and wags at both ends. If, at any point in this venture, you need me to shut the fuck up do not be shy in saying so,” his face falls, eyes flick away a little, “There’s one more thing before we peel this stencil and get on to our business. I will need to stretch your skin, to make sure the lines are nice and clean, and for that i must rely on this foolish thing.” Ezra catches you around your wrist with his prosthetic hand and squeezes slightly.   “I do not have the sensitivity nor dexterity that i once had,” he says, “I have some haptic feedback, but it’s not the most reliable. If I grip or pinch too hard, you sing out and I will manually adjust the pressure.”  So focused on your left inner wrist and the tracery of your skin that he startles, flinches when you reach for him and grip his upper arm, brief squeeze and then gone.  “I trust you.” His eyes widen for a second, and flick away from yours.   ‘I suppose you do. Else you wouldn’t be here. Let’s get a good look at these lines before we get to fencin’.” Ezra peels the transfer paper up and you feel the pull of it, dark purple lines printed on your inner arm. And that makes it feel real.

You’re going to walk out of here with something like a story in your skin forever.   “The fireweed—“  “I know. The stencil lines are just there to keep me from going too loosey-goosey,” says Ezra, “That being said, how would you feel about some slight splatters? So the stems do not rise so harshly from the water bear’s back, perhaps a bit darker than the color of the fireweed. Something to really make this little fella pop.”  “Dark. Like a dark purple fading up into the pinks.”  “Yeah? What do you think?”  “I like it,” you say, and you feel yourself grin wide, and Ezra’s smile mirrors your own, “This is gonna be so fucking cool.”  “It will,” he says, those dark eyes bracketed in delighted crinkles, “I’ve got you, darlin. We’re gonna make some magic.”

 It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and you tell Ezra so, and he smiles, bent over your arm.  “Everyone’s pain threshold is a bit different,” he says, “You are squirming very little for your first ink.”’   “I was in labor with my oldest for twenty three hours. This doesn’t even register.”  “The linework is usually worse in terms of sharp pain,” he says, “The color and shading tend to be more persistently annoying. Like a shirt collar rubbing on a sunburn.” He has a light on a swing arm like a dentist uses, framing him in a bright halo as he hunches over your arm, catches his curls in bright filaments, the scruff of his cheeks, slope of his neck, breadth of his shoulders. Sharper pain as he touches the crease between wrist and hand, bracelets of fortune, you think they’re called, draw your breath in a sharp hiss, little hooked curves of the tardigrade’s claws.  “Breathe, sugar, you’re doing just fine. Worst part’s nearly done.” His eyes flick up to catch yours, warm soft and magnified by his glasses. “And I really must know. what’s your favorite dinosaur?”  “Deinonychus,” you answer unthinking, “Dromeosaurs are pretty cool in general, but Deinonychus is my favorite.” And you smile. Knowing exactly what he’s doing and thankful for it. “The raptors in Jurassic Park were actually Deinonychuses. Modeled on them at least. Actual velociraptors are turkey-sized.” Ezra smiles up at you, perfect plump lower lip bisected by a gold ring, damn he’s pretty, and nothing hurts at all.  “Huh,” he says, “And here I was thinkin you were a T-rex girl. S’pose that’s what i get for making assumptions.”  “Well you know what they say about assuming—“  “Indeed I do. My mother was very fond of whipping out that particular turn of phrase.” He stretches your skin so he can get the tardigrade’s odd little mouthparts just so.  “What’s your favorite?”  “Favorite what?” The curved, segmented back takes shape.  “Dinosaur. You can’t just ask someone that question and not answer it yourself.” Ezra stills for a beat, and then the needle starts up again, line sloping down to meet up with a hook-plated foot.  “Ankylosaurus.” he says.  “Really?”  “Sure. Mother Nature took a cow, a snapping turtle and a panzer tank and stuck em in a blender and then tied a cinderblock to the end of it’s tail. What’s not to love? Hmmm,” he swabs at the beaded blood and oozing ink, “Hard part’s done. How about a little breather?” Ezra stands and stretches like a lazy cat, rolls his neck side to side, heads for the refrigerator, tucked in the corner and plastered in stickers, punk bands or microbreweries, you can’t really tell.   “Stretch your legs,” he says, “This next phase will take some time.” You swing your legs over the side of the chair, stand up and then plop back down.  “You okay, darlin?”   “Stood up too fast.”   “Apple or orange?”  “Huh? Orange,” You feel your face going hot, “I followed your instructions—“ Ezra hands you a cold, sweating bottle of orange juice.  “I know you did,” he says, “When you get tattooed, you are signing up for an injury. One that happens over the course of several hours, but an injury all the same.  Everyone reacts a little different. Your sugar just dropped is all. You drink that juice and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.”  “I thought I’d be okay-“  “And you are,” says Ezra, “I’ve had three hundred pound bikers slither out of the chair at the first sight of blood. It happens sometimes. I’ve gotten woozy a time or two myself.”

He shoves up his shirtsleeve and shows you a dog in a space helmet,   “That’s Laika,” you say.  “Patron Saint of one way trips,” says Ezra, “You can see a bit of wobble in the curve of her helmet. It was far from my first ink and it still hurt like a sonofabitch. You didn’t do a thing wrong, okay?” He rests his hand on your shoulder briefly, warm weight of it grounds you, and he hunkers down so his eyes meet yours, no judgement there, just concern, and without thinking, you mirror him, rest a hand on his vibrantly inked bicep, Laika brave and doomed amid a swirl of watercolored nebulae, his skin warm beneath your palm and you feel the breath rush out of you, didn’t know how hard you were clenching your jaw, didn’t know you tight your chest was.  “Thank you.” And for a beat those lovely, dark eyes hold yours, before they slide away, cheek curved up in a half-smile.  “You are most welcome. Shall we proceed?”

 The color inking goes much as he described, more annoying than painful, like a constant pressing of fingernails against your skin, different gun with more needles packed together, ink laid in, blood wiped away, back and forth over the same bits of skin, needles dipped and rinsed, tiny plastic cups of color that make you think of a child’s paint set, and the two of you settle into easy conversation, a flow back and forth like a gentle tide, mostly Ezra explaining all the hidden delights of Secret Springs, you simply must get breakfast at Cisco’s, it don’t look like much but they’ve got the best biscuits and gravy i’ve ever tasted, and Cee swears by their Hangover Helper, it’s like a layer dip of grease. Hash browns and corned beef hash and scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and cheese sprinkled over it. I keep tellin Frankie he should rename it the Heart Attack Platter, but he won’t hear it— Ezra’s voice and the buzz of the tattoo gun and the rhythm of him pressing into your skin and wiping away the blood and excess ink set you drifting, content to listen to him ramble, like the patter of falling rain.  “So what got you here?” asks Ezra.  “Moira. I saw her ink and asked—“  “No, darlin, what got you here?” And you find it hard to speak, to put into words, did everything right, married and had kids and a house and a good job and a husband who loved you until he didn’t, did everything right and still ended up with an empty house and no one to come home to except the cat. Lilly and Liam and Joey off on their own and settled and they all call you on Sunday like clockwork, as if you are an obligation and not someone who held them when they were small, talked them through the fears of monsters in the closet, talked them through the humiliation of first love, you know they love you, they tell you every time, at the end of every visit, hug you so tight and tell you they love you. Love you too, but you still come home to a dark house and an empty bed, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched or kissed or held. Been so long since you did things for you without thinking of him and the kids that it feels wrong, shameful.  “I wanted to do something just for me, I guess.” You frown.  “I’m guessing you are not in the habit,” he says, “Of doing things just for the joy of it.” You laugh, a bright and brittle sound that pulls itself from your throat, even as your eyes burn, his eyes flick up from the brilliant pinks and oranges and purples, and you turn your head away.  “I’ve prodded a raw nerve, I���m sorry. Cee rightly says I have no filter-“  “It’s okay. It’s just…you do everything right and you still end up all alone, you know? Lil and the boys are all doing fine. They call me every Sunday, and I know I should be happy, and I am happy. Happy for them-“  “But not for yourself,” says Ezra. And you think of how the intimacy slowly bled out of your marriage, held on so tight for so long, thought you could muscle through it like you do everything else in your life, but love wasn’t enough, determination wasn’t enough, gritted teeth and stubbornness weren’t enough.   “No. Not for myself.” You frown. You haven’t put it in words before, too busy keeping it together, trying to gut through it like you do everything, keep your head down and push through, “You think your life is one thing and then it just isn’t anymore— this probably seems silly to you.”  “Not at all. I often think of cicadas,” he says, and returns his attention to the fireweed blossoms.  “Cicadas?”  “Yes. They live the majority of their lives under the ground, feasting on roots content with living in the dark and then something calls them up above. They split themselves open, crawl out of their old skins and take flight.”  “You’re saying I’m in the process of crawling out of my own skin,” you say.  “I’m saying that your future doesn’t have to look like your past,” says Ezra.

 “The past is another country,” you say, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard the phrase.  “Just so,” says Ezra, “Just so. We’re redrawing the map right here. And it is a joy to redraw it with you.”  “Are you—are you flirting with me?” Ezra scrunches his face in mock disdain, “I would never ever flirt with a client. That would be deeply unethical and Cee would undoubtedly yell at me. However, once I finish inking this last frond and we slather you in ointment and wrap you up you will no longer be my client-“  “And then?” He smiles at you, all dark eyes and dimples.  “Well then we are just two folks enjoying the moonlight and wetting our toes in the surf. If you’d walk with me a spell. If you can further tolerate my rambling,”  “I think I’d like to get my feet wet.”

[dream-moonlight]

Maybe next time, maybe in the next life, maybe never.

Warnings: Angst, James being clueless, James Potter x Lily Evans, James Potter x Reader, unrequited love

Was i a fool for falling in love with James Potter of all people? Maybe. Maybe i was. But how could i stop myself when he's so kind and funny to me? How can i resist him when he keeps helping me with my schoolwork despite the many times i told him there was no need? I couldn't. That's the answer. From the moment I've met him, he's been nothing but welcoming, even if i was skeptical of him at first. But it didn't take me long to warm up and see him as the amazing young gentleman he was. That was for me, but not for Lily who hadn't liked him at all because of his loud and way too cheerful personality. I kinda understood her. James could exaggerate at times, but he was trying his best to make everyone around him happy. I appreciated it. I knew he had a crush on Lily. I mean, it was obvious from the way he acted around her. It didn't bother me until i realised i felt something more for him, something way stronger than friendship, so strong that it made my heart beat faster than when we had a test on transfiguration. Lily didn't seem interested in James, rather disturbed instead. So i thought to myself.. why don't i try? I don't need to get straight to the point, I could just try to get closer to him and see where this goes. Maybe it can end in us together? Or maybe i was dreaming too hard.

"Hey, James! Mind coming with me to the library today? You know, for the erbology we have tomorrow. We could just.. review some things. Study some more."

"Ah.. sorry, i can't. I was planning to go ask Lily on a date.. Maybe next time? You can ask Remus to help you! I'm sure he'll be glad to have some company while studying. Wish me luck!"

And with that, he'd run off, not even giving me a chance to say 'bye' or wish him luck in this quest of his. I sighed before turning and walking off in search of Remus. Let's hope he didn't have someone to conquer as well. I really needed help for this test. But hey.. maybe next time we'll be able to study together. Just me and James.

Maybe.

"Good morning, James. Are you feeling alright? I haven't seen you at breakfast and me and the others got a bit worried. Is something wrong?"

I asked after finally finding James outside the castle when he did not show up for breakfast that morning.

"Oh, good morning. Sorry i wasn't there. I had to get some of these flowers for Lily. What do you think? She'll like them right?"

My body stiffened a bit, but I still smiled.

"I'm sure she'll love them, James. They're beautiful."

He chuckled and nodded, looking down at the flowers he had taken with a slight hint of blush on those squishy cheeks of his.

"Just like her.."

He mumbled dreamily as my heart sinked further into darkness.

"By the way, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmade with me this weekend to-"

He didn't even give me time to finish that his attention was drawn to something behind me. Or rather someone.

"Sorry! Gotta go! I see Lily over there! Uh- maybe we'll go another time, okay? Next week?"

He said with an excited smile, again, not leaving me the time to answer before he stormed off to Lily.

Alright.. maybe.. maybe next week.

It's been.. how long as it been since this stupid crush started? Way too long, I'll tell you that. I tried everything. I swear.. everything i could possibly think of. But nothing. James was so damn stubborn and set on conquering Lily that he basically ignored all my attempts at hanging out with him. It was like he was obsessed with her. At this point i was getting tired. I didn’t want to hide anymore, i wanted him to know. Even if he rejected me, it didn't matter. At least he would finally get it through his thick skull that there wasn't only Lily in this world.

"James, i need to talk to you."

"Not now, i really need to-"

This time i was the one who didn't let him finish.

"No. Please, it's serious. I need to talk to you now."

He looked at me kinda worried, but he did stop and listened.

"James, i don't really know how to approach this any differently. I've tried many times to make you understand, but you just don't get it."

His worry increased, but now his eyes were filled with curiosity.

"I like you. And not in a friends way.. I really, really like you. I want you to be my boyfriend, James. I want to go on dates with you, give you the love and respect you deserve. I admire you for who you are and i want to show that i appreciate all you've done for me."

His eyes widened, his body stiffening and his heart stopping for a second before his expression turned to.. honestly, it hurts to even say it.

"I'm sorry, but i do not like you that way. I appreciate what you said, but.. listen, i haven't really told this to anyone because i didn't want to ruin my chance, but I've been going out with Lily for a while now, and.. it's really going well, so.."

He stopped, not really knowing if to continue, afraid to hurt me even more than when i was. But i just laughed. I laughed.

"It's fine! I'm not mad at you, James. I'm actually happy."

Liar.

"I'm glad you finally achieved what you desired. And hey. Maybe in the next life we'll be together! Who knows."

I said in a joking tone, letting out a small awkward laugh. How I wished it could be true.

"Yeah.. maybe in the next life."

He said with a small laugh.

"I need to go now. Lily is waiting for me at the black lake. Oh, and.. I'm sorry."

He didn't look sorry at all.

"It's fine. Just go get your girl."

I watched him leave with a smile before it disappeared as quick as it came, replaced by a sad frown.

Maybe in the next life.

Maybe never.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 24

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“He asked me to move in with him.” I couldn't keep the word vomit from leaving my mouth as I settled into a little booth across from Tori with a coffee between my hands.

Her eyebrows seemed to raise about three inches and she didn't say anything at first.

“It's crazy, I know.” I shook my head.

“How long have you been with him?”

“A month.” I made a face.

“Does he, like, ejaculate gold coins or something?” Tori asked, laughing as she spoke.

I laughed with her and shook my head, looking down. “I don't know. I've never been like this. He's just got this way about him.”

“What's his house like?”

A small smile crept onto my face and she cut in before I could answer.

“He's rich, isn't he?”

“He lives in this, like, mini castle.”

“A castle?”

“Well, that's what it looks like. It's really cool.”

“Okay, so my suspicions are correct.”

I swallowed hard, eager to hear her theories. “What suspicions?”

“He ejacs gold coins.”

I laughed again, actually pleased she hadn't said something serious. I wasn't in the mood for sinister scenarios that would only heighten my internal anxiety over the situation.

“I don't even care about the house or whatever. I just.. I'm falling way too fast for this guy.” My eyes met here across the table. “Do you think I'm crazy?”

Tori gave a half smile and a shrug. “A little.” She smiled fully and sipped her coffee. “It is a little fast.”

“It's very fast.”

“Okay, it's very fast,” she agreed. “But, it's your call. What's your gut telling you? I'd ask what your heart’s telling you but I'm pretty sure I already know that. And the heart can be misleading.” Tori motioned to me with her drink as she emphasized the last part.

“Yeah.” I sighed and reached into a small paper bag for the muffin I’d ordered with my coffee.

“Well, how about this?” Tori went on when I broke off a piece of the muffin top. “If things work out with Mr. “Joel Gold Coins”,” she used her fingers to do the air quotes and I snickered, “Then I better be the maid of honor. And if it ends up not being what you thought, then there's always a room for you at 355 Ellie Drive.”

I looked toward my friend and let out another exhale through my nose. She was so understanding and not judgmental. I had disappeared off the face of the earth for a month since meeting Dr. Miller and she never questioned a thing.

“I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend,” I started but she reached for my hand and wagged a finger.

“You haven't been a bad friend,” she disagreed. “We’re at pivotal points in our lives. And I guess the lucky part is that we've kind of both found the same thing in the same time frame.” Tori shrugged, “It happens. We’re.. growing up.”

I smiled, “Adulting?”

“Ugh, you know I hate that word.”

I laughed and then sighed again with a more serious expression. “Thank you, Tori.”

“You're welcome.”

“I mean it. Thank you.” I sipped my coffee again. “Now, I'm done making this all about me. Tell me about Derek.”

My friend bit her bottom lip and spilled all the recent tea about her beau. I knew Derek. I liked him. The fact that he would be there with her full time took away some of the guilt I was experiencing. Tori appeared excited and happy and light as air. Getting a chance to sit and talk was rejuvenating. As much as I enjoyed the intensity of my time with Dr. Miller, I appreciated the lighthearted feeling I had being in Tori’s company.

“Once a week,” my friend pointed at me as we finally left the little coffee shop, “And that's nonnegotiable.”

“Once a week. And I'll be back soon to get my clothes and stuff.” I nodded and we exchanged a hug. “I'm going to head into LL Bean,” I said motioning to the store a few doors down on the little street.

“I have to go to work or I'd gladly spend a good hundred bucks in there with you.”

“Okay, be safe. I miss you.”

Tori blew a kiss. “See you soon.”

I waved goodbye and headed into the store, mostly in search of a good pair of winter boots.

If I happen to walk out with a sweater or two, so be it, I thought internally with a smile. Or maybe a hat for our ski wedding weekend.

An older man greeted me with a friendly, “Hello,” from behind a cash register off to the left. I smiled and waved before making the trek up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I knew the women's shoe section was.

A rack of on-sale sweaters and shirts conveniently greeted me near the top of the stairs and I gave it a lengthy browse. A knee length blue and white sweater dress caught my eye and I draped it over my arm before moving on toward the shoes.

“(Y/N)?” A female voiced my name quietly and I turned my attention away from the wall of boots in front of me.

When I glanced over my left shoulder I froze. Christine, Dr. Miller’s ex-wife, had just exited the dressing room. She was dressed more casually than our first meeting, sporting jeans and a sweater with a winter hat.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” She asked, as if we were friends or acquaintances that hadn't seen one another for awhile.

“I'm fine.” I forced a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Christine smiled back and bluntly asked, “Are you still seeing Joel?”

I gave a little nod, hoping that would be the end of that. Of course it wasn't.

“Look, woman to woman,” she said, beginning to pace in my direction. “I don't want to see you get hurt the way I did. Just.. be careful. Joel has this charisma that can really be..” She took a few seconds as she searched for the correct word, “Blinding.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that.” I didn't want to have this conversation. People broke up all the time and could easily list off the reasons why their former partner was terrible. It didn't mean those two people couldn't move on and find someone more compatible for them. Everyone has flaws.

“I fell for him,” Christine nodded and stared at me, “Fast. Hard.” She shook her head and maintained eye contact, “He has secrets, (Y/N).”

“Don't we all?” I tried to sound casual and glanced down at the sweater on my arm.

“Not these kind of secrets.”

“Well, what are these kind of secrets?” I asked.

Christine sighed, looking around as she did before finding my eyes again. “That's something I'll take to my grave.. but also something I couldn't live with.”

I wasn't typically one to speak up, but I couldn't help myself now. “So, woman to woman you came here to warn me, but you can't tell me about what? You just want me to be careful because of Joel's secrets but you won't tell me what those secrets are?” I shook my head, “If you were actually looking out for me, you'd tell me.” I wandered away from the boots section back toward the staircase.

“It's the least I can do,” Christine called out.

I took the stairs back to the bottom floor. All the life that Tori had breathed into me, Christine had sucked out. I was so taken aback that I almost walked out with the sweater without paying for it. Hell, I hadn't even tried it on.

I stopped myself before closing in on the door and made a hard right toward the register.

“Find everything you were looking for?” The old man asked with a friendly grin.

I wanted to match his cheeriness but I just couldn't. Still, I managed a smile. “Yes, thank you.” He scanned the tag, I swiped my card and then headed back out onto the street.

I was going to tell Dr. Miller about bumping into Christine. I wasn't about to accuse him of anything but I needed to at least ask what she was referring to. Of course he had secrets - or at least some unknowns he promised to tell in due time. As much as I needed to know, I wasn't going to bombard him simply because his ex-wife bombarded me.

She hated me, Dr. Miller had claimed. I was sure at least part of her approaching me had something to do with sabotaging him.

I shook my head and hurried across the street to an ATM. Having a little cash on me at all times was something my parents had always advised me to do, and it was a habit I'd carried into adulthood.

I looked around the immediate area and then back to the doors of LL Bean to see if Christine had come out. I wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible and cozy up by a warm fire, as Dr. Miller had promised.

As I slipped my card into the machine, I envisioned it for a moment, trying to push away the negative thoughts that had been bestowed upon me. It worked - sort of.

I punched in my four digit code and selected to remove sixty dollars. Again, I looked over my shoulder as the ATM worked its magic. When the screen instructed me to remove my card, I did just that and then tucked it away back into my purse.

The money dispensed and upon collecting it, I looked at the screen again. If it had been a cartoon I swear my eyes would have popped right out of my head.

This has to be a mistake. I looked at the balance. It was all wrong.

“What the hell?”

The receipt shot out next as the screen switched to a simple, THANK YOU, in bold letters. I ripped the receipt from its place and studied the numbers. The balance on the thin piece of white paper matched that of the balance on the screen.

This has to be a mistake.

As I stood in disbelief, staring at the fifty-seven thousand dollars that was now said to be in my account, my eyes glanced up and I saw Christine staring at me from across the street. I felt like she knew exactly what I was staring at on that money slip.

When she shook her head, I crumpled the paper and forced it into my coat pocket before rushing to my car and driving away from that quaint, little street in the center of town.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

[ellephlox]

Deprivation

Summary: Matt thinks you can't go sixty hours without sleep. You think otherwise.

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Warnings: Choking, sleep deprivation, some profanity, accidental cut with knife on hand, intimacy

Matt, you quickly learned, was the smartest man you knew, except in one regard: he had absolutely no clue of what it meant to have a damn sleep schedule.

To be fair, this was to be expected. He was a lawyer, and had his little double identity, so of course he wasn't going to get a full eight hours every night.

But sometimes he'd be back from his vigilante activities, and didn't even have any court cases to prepare for, and yet you'd wake up to find him out in the living room listening to the city. So you would go out to him, wrapping your arms around yourself because it was cold when you didn't have his body heat warming you up, and try to coerce him to come back to bed. And he'd always oblige, following you back into bed, but even then you knew he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't insomnia, he had told you. He just liked to stay awake. He liked listening to his city.

That was something you could respect. But when it got to the point that he was only getting a few hours of shut-eye each night, and Foggy reported to you that Matt was getting really tired at work — well, that was just another way that he self-sabotaged.

"It's probably not very good for you," you told him, as gently as possible, on a Friday afternoon when he'd gotten out of the office early. "Not getting enough sleep can lead to all sorts of health issues down the road — both mental and physical."

Matt had the audacity to smirk at that. "Don't worry. I've got bigger things to worry about."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Besides, if I have to lose an hour of sleep, it's worth it if it means I can save someone's life."

"You don't have to be Superman, Matt. You're human. You have needs, too. How about I start matching my sleep schedule to yours? How would you feel about it then?"

"We have different sleep needs," he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes. "What is that supposed to mean? 'Different sleep needs?' What are you implying, that I couldn't do it?"

"I'm saying that just because my sleep schedule seems impossible to you, it's not the end of the world to me."

"I never said it was impossible. I just don't like seeing how little sleep you get," you said obstinately. "I could deal with no sleep just fine." Which, really, was an unsubstantiated claim, but it wasn't as though there was any reason to believe that you wouldn't do just fine.

"I'd beg to differ."

"My sleep needs are beside the point," you said mulishly, wrapping your arms around him. "But here's my final say. You should start getting an average of six hours of sleep a night, at least — averaged out over the course of every two weeks — without argument. Okay?"

Matt raised his eyebrows. "That's a steep request. No incentives? No bribery? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I'm the love of your life and you want to make me happy by getting more sleep?"

"Yes to the first part, no to the second. Sorry, sweetheart."

"Please?"

"Hm. I'm reconsidering." Matt planted a kiss on your forehead. "And the answer is no. Unless..." He pulled back, his eyebrows drawn in. "You think you can 'deal with no sleep just fine', you said?"

"Sure. Mind over matter."

"I'll make a proposal for you," he said. "If you can go sixty hours without sleep, then I'll make an effort to do your at-least-six-hours-a-night suggestion."

A grin broke across your face. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

"Because I'm going to win, Matt. Like I said, mind over matter."

"Sixty hours is a lot harder than you'd think, Y/N."

"It'll be a piece of cake, considering what's on the line," you said, checking the time. "Okay. It's four in the afternoon right now. I woke up at six this morning, thanks to the work I had to get done for my boss. So sixty hours from when I woke up this morning would be... six in the evening on Sunday. Friday morning to Sunday evening, then? Easy. You are going to be eating your words, Murdock."

His own smile was wicked. "You'll be wanting to cave after thirty-six hours."

"Ha. Unlikely." You held out your hand. "So it's a deal, then?"

Matt shook your hand firmly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Nighttime arrived quickly. Usually, when Matt started suiting up to head out for the night, you'd be getting ready for your shower and brushing your teeth.

Tonight, you had other plans.

"What do you think you're doing?" Matt said sharply, coming into the bedroom as he straightened his cowl. You glanced over him, admiring the Daredevil suit. Seriously, how did all the people he saved every night not just fall in love with him?

"I'm getting dressed," you said innocently. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes. You're putting on your thicker coat, the one you wear only when you plan on being outside for awhile."

"Going outside is a crime now?"

"Y/N, it's nine at night. It's pitch black outside. I don't want you getting kidnapped, or mugged, or—"

"It's okay. I'm just going to the movie theatre."

"The movie theatre," he repeated.

"Yeah. While you're being a vigilante, I'm going to go watch a film. Because I've still got forty-eight-ish hours of staying awake and I intend to enjoy that time."

Matt's frown deepened. "Are you taking a taxi?"

"The theatre's only a few blocks away," you said, knowing exactly how he'd react.

"I'll follow you, then, to make sure you get there safely," he decided. "What time does the movie end?"

"I haven't decided what I'm watching yet, so I'm not sure. But I promise I'll text your burner, okay? I won't be reckless."

Once Matt was satisfied that you weren't going to go anywhere aside from the theatre ("There's been a human trafficking ring going on around here lately, and I'm not taking any chances with you wandering around"), you started your trek to the movies, appreciating the dark figure tailing you along the rooftops and blowing him a kiss before you entered the theatre.

The rest of the night passed more quickly than you expected. You finally got home close to midnight, after walking back with Matt, who stayed on the sidewalks with you since the streets were empty. Once you got back to the apartment, you did some reading until Matt returned, plowing through two books on your to-read list.

"Getting tired?" Matt asked when he came in, stripping off his cowl. It was one of the rare nights that he didn't have any blood on him, so you ran up and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his middle.

"I could run a marathon right now," you said. "You, on the other hand, can go to bed. Get some rest."

"If you're staying up, then I'm staying up."

"The deal was for me to stay up sixty straight hours, Matt. Not you. In fact, the whole point of this is to have you get more sleep. Go to bed, really."

"If I fall asleep, then I won't know if you lose the bet and fall asleep," he objected.

You rolled your eyes. "Good thing you're a human lie detector, Matt. You can ask me tomorrow whether I've slept or not."

You had pulled all-nighters before, but never without even a ten minute reprieve of a nap. It did start to get exhausting, and you were feeling punch-drunk by the time dawn rolled around. Matt didn't sleep in — in fact, he was up just a bit after dawn — and you fought to hide anything that might indicate to him that, in fact, you were already feeling tired enough that you wanted to just crash on the couch and sleep for ten hours.

"Good morning." Matt entered the living room, where you were getting through your third book. Your eyes felt dry and heavy, so you blinked a few times, trying to sweep away the weariness.

"Good morning," you said, with much more energy in your voice than what you felt inside.

"Did you fall asleep at all last night?"

"Nope," you said blithely, and Matt's nod confirmed the truth to your statement. "Twenty-four hours of sixty are complete."

"You're not even halfway there. Feel like giving up?"

"That's insulting that you'd even ask me that." You sipped at your water. "So, lazy Saturday today?"

"Not quite," Matt said, looking altogether suspiciously pleased with himself. "I meant to tell you — we have a busy day, actually. I signed us up to volunteer at a civil rights event this morning. We'll be collecting money and signing people in — I'll type names into the system, you take care of the money. If that's alright with you, of course."

It wasn't like Matt to forget to tell you about something like this, let alone not ask you in the first place if it was something you were up to doing. You chewed your lip. "Yeah, no problem."

"Then Foggy's invited us to lunch with him and Karen. We're supposed to meet up at a café a few blocks away then go for a walk to check out the new museum that's down in Chelsea. Oh, and last night I overheard some details about that human trafficking ring, so I was hoping we could do some research this evening and look into some names that might be involved."

"Is that all?" you asked, feeling a sinking feeling in your stomach at the prospect of everything Matt had listed.

"Well," he said, taking his hand to toy with your hair. "I thought tonight would be perfect for cleaning out the kitchen. You've been saying for awhile that we need to get into all the cupboards and dust off everything. We could do the closets, too. Might as well get it all done at once."

You scowled. "Since when are you into deep cleaning on a Saturday?"

"It seemed like the ideal day for it," he said vaguely, still looking far too satisfied with himself. Unbelievable.

You swallowed your irritation, though, and feigned optimism. "Sounds good to me."

"Really? It won't be too busy of a day? Because I know you didn't get any sleep last night." This last bit was pointed, and you struggled to keep up your facade.

"Not too busy at all," you said, patting his thigh twice and standing up to stretch. "It sounds perfect."

Matt's smile widened. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not," you insisted, heading to the bathroom to get ready. Shit, I'm tired. One glance into the bedroom, at the blankets still unmade, and it was difficult to not cave right there and crawl under the covers. "I'm going to win this, Matt. Try to overwork me all you want, because I'm still going to beat you."

His grin only broadened.

As the day went on, it got more and more difficult. You found yourself feeling lightheaded, as though your thoughts were hovering slightly outside of your head, and you kept losing your train of thought. Keeping up with the conversation with Foggy and Karen took so much energy that you found yourself blinking heavily in the museum, trying to avoid looking at the oh-so-comfy padded benches along the walls that looked just fantastic for grabbing a quick twenty-minute nap. You must've started looking pretty tired, because even Foggy noticed.

"You alright, Y/N?" he asked, slowing his pace to walk beside you.

"I'm fine. Totally fine. Why?" you said, shaking off the tendrils of sleep that were playing with your eyelids.

Foggy gave you a look. "You and Matt both suck at lying when it comes to convincing me that you're 'fine.' What's going on?"

You had no choice but to explain the bet to Karen and Foggy, both of whom, to your annoyance, leaned towards Matt's side, insisting that there was no way you could make it until Sunday evening.

"You're all underestimating me," you said, lightening your footsteps to appear more buoyant and vivacious. "Just because I'm tired doesn't mean I'll lose."

Matt, in all his smug glory, had the audacity to turn around, lowering the museum-issued phone that provided audio descriptions of each painting. "You're admitting that you're tired? If you want, we can head home and you can take a nap."

"Enough from the peanut gallery, Murdock," you said.

Matt tapped the side of his white cane playfully on your leg. "Just looking out for your wellbeing, dearest."

"You can take your looking out and shove it up your—"

"Coffee!" Foggy said triumphantly, pointing to the museum café. "Just because I think you're going to lose, Y/N, doesn't mean I want you to lose. Come on, let's pump some caffeine into you."

"Nope." You shook your head. "I'm going to do this au naturale."

"Did Matt make a clause saying you couldn't?" Karen's arms were crossed. "Because if so, he's just being too much of a lawyer—"

"He didn't. But I want to do it alone without any support. Not even from coffee," you said.

Still, Matt looked too confident. It unnerved you.

You had to fight to get through the rest of the day. While researching the names Matt had overheard, you kept finding your hand slipping as your eyes fell, and then you'd jar upright and try to focus your eyes on the paper in front of you.

The fourth time it happened, Matt's hand appeared on your back. "You can always take a rest if you need one."

"I don't need to sleep. I'm good."

"I never said sleep. I just said rest. Unless you think you'd fall asleep if you took a rest?"

You shoved his hand away. "You have such little faith in me."

"I can hear every single time your eyes slip," he said. "Your heart rate is really slowing down."

You shook your head violently. "Nope. See? Look." Jumping up, you bounced on your feet a bit, shaking yourself awake. "Heart rate is soaring."

"Great. Then we could start on the cleaning, if you want."

Right. You'd forgotten about the little bout of cleaning he had felt so remarkably inspired to do. "Sounds wonderful."

You started on the drawers, pulling out all of the utensils and miscellaneous tchotchkes that crowded the space. Inside were plastic spoons and forks that had been amassed over the past few months, disposable chopsticks, and a set of nice chef's knives that you used to chop vegetables. In the back you found the old knife sharpener, which you hadn't seen in a good year or so.

The knives could be sharpened. Or were they still sharp enough? You remembered there were one or two knives that were far too dull to cut the sweet potatoes and carrots the last time you cooked, but you couldn't remember which two knives. Carefully you picked up each knife, one-by-one, and pressed it gently against your thumb to test how sharp it was.

The intention was to do it without actually slicing your thumb open. But you picked up a knife that you thought was dull, applied a bit too much pressure, and immediately a thin red line of blood appeared on the pad of your thumb.

"Ow," you muttered, reaching for a paper towel to absorb the blood.

Matt emerged from the closet almost immediately, concern creasing his forehead. You had to stifle a laugh as you imagined him going to blood like a moth being attracted to light.

"You alright?" he asked, taking your hand and examining it. "I wasn't listening — what happened?"

"Nothing. I just was testing the sharpness of the blades."

Matt gave you an incredulous look. "On your own hand?"

"I didn't mean to actually cut my thumb!" you protested. "I just... I don't know! It was a dumb decision. Not my proudest moment. Or... I guess I'm just not the sharpest knife in the drawer." You snorted at your own joke.

Matt didn't smile. "How about I take over with the knives?"

"Come on. Not even a smile? That was a really good pun."

"If you weren't so tired, I doubt you'd find it funny."

"Mm. Maybe." You went to the fridge. "I'll start cleaning this out."

Matt acquiesced, and he started sharpening all of the knives after pointedly handing you a Band-Aid for your cut. You worked together in relative silence to finish cleaning the kitchen. You hit a second wind and didn't feel too tired while you were working, especially once you put on a podcast for the two of you to listen to as you cleaned.

But that changed once you finished. Matt settled on the couch, stretched out in a nearly horizontal position, and gestured for you to lie on top of him. You wedged yourself in so that you were half on top of him, and half squished between him and the back of the couch, and rested your head on his chest.

"Are you going out tonight?" you asked. Matt stroked your hair, running his fingers down and against the nape of your neck.

"I'm taking a night off," he said. "I thought we could put on a movie."

You lifted your eyes to his face. "What? I thought you were doing all you could to make today as exhausting as possible for me."

"I thought a movie would be nice."

"I don't trust you, Murdock." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Here's my hypothesis. You made today as tiring as possible so that now, when you're suggesting a lovely, calming activity, I'll fall asleep, and then you won't have to hold up your end of the deal."

"I would never be so malicious as to do that."

"For some reason, I just don't believe you." You snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, feeling far too warm and comfortable. "I won't fall asleep."

His hand moved from your neck to your back. "Okay."

It was nice that he wasn't going out to do his other job tonight, at least. It wasn't often that he took a night off. It was impossible to not stress whenever he was out, and having just one night when you knew he'd be safe and sound was relieving. At least he had the red suit now. You weren't sure how he wasn't dead, considering the number of times he'd gone out with nothing but the black mask, which offered about as much protection as if he'd simply gone out naked.

Plus, now he had backup that he could call, if he needed help. Frank Castle, as gruff and hostile as he was — and as bloodthirsty as he was — for some reason held a soft spot when it came to Matt, and he could be counted on if things got sticky. Then there was Jessica, who had every bit as apathetic an exterior as Frank did, but she too could be trusted with Matt's life. Luke and Danny you were less familiar with but you would have counted on them in any pinch, too. Plus, you'd tried to convince Matt that the Avengers would take him in as part of the team, but he had flat-out refused. You liked the idea of Matt joining the Avengers. Missions, getting credit for the people he saved, having an opportunity to do fancy galas and dinners with people like Thor, or Falcon, or...

You jolted upright. "I'm not asleep!"

Matt's hand stopped on your back. "Your eyes were shut. And your heart was slowing significantly. I think that counts as sleeping."

"No, it doesn't!" you argued, sitting up. "Sleeping has to be at least a few minutes."

"According to what law?"

"I wasn't asleep, Matt." You glared at him. "And that's not fair! You were trying to get me to fall asleep!"

"I didn't violate any rules." He pulled you in again. "Just... lay here a couple more minutes."

You struggled out of his grip. "I'm not risking it. That was too close. I'm going to bake cookies."

"Cookies?"

"To celebrate my victory when I survive the next twenty-four hours without falling asleep. I'm over two thirds done, Matt — it's been almost forty hours. I can do the last stretch."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You ignored him and got to your feet, pausing slightly to knead your hands into your temples and wake yourself up more. Matt followed you into the kitchen, and you could tell he was amused. His head turned slightly at every single one of your movements, tracking you perfectly so that you imagined he had a sharp image in his mind of what you were doing.

Baking helped. You moved almost robotically, following the instructions from the recipe of an old cookbook you'd had for years.

"That's salt, sweetie."

You blinked and looked at what you were doing. You had the 1/2 cup in your hand, full of...

Salt. Not sugar.

You dumped the salt away and scooped the sugar instead. "Thanks," you said. "Stupid mistake. Did you hear or smell it?"

"Smelled."

When it came time to beat the dough, you plugged in the stand mixer and then leaned against the counter. The rhythmic whirring of the machine was like a massage on your head.

You didn't even realize that your eyes had closed until you were tilting forward, jarring up as you did so to catch yourself on the counter. Matt had already lunged forward to grab you, and he didn't wait for your excuses, taking you by the shoulders and steering you to the couch.

"I need to finish the cookies," you objected. "Matt, I caught myself in time, it was just a stupid little moment—"

"Look, I can appreciate that we had a bet going, but maybe this isn't the best idea." Matt's eyes, despite not making contact with your own, were scanning your face beseechingly. "Sleep deprivation can cause worse than brain fog and micro-sleeps. It can affect your immune system, make you hallucinate, increase anxiety—"

"All temporary," you insisted, but he was right; you could feel an indescribable sense of stress curdling in your chest, and your hands were trembling slightly. All of your movements felt as though they were in slow-motion, like your brain had been frozen and sensory input had to go through slowly.

Matt finished making the cookies. Somehow, you stayed awake while on the couch, but your head kept rolling forward without you meaning for it to happen — it was a vicious cycle of your head tipping forward far enough that you'd snap back up and shake your head a few times. Get it together. This is important, stay awake.

And, just like that — in the span of a few seconds — you found yourself snapping up again as your head fell forward.

"Y/N—" Matt began, but you cut him off.

"Shut up," you said amicably. "I know you know my head's rolling around. But I'm in this to win."

He only sighed.

You managed to pass the next two hours without a peep from Matt, who nevertheless kept turning his head towards you every time that you blinked even slightly longer than normal, as though to say, I hear you and you're not fooling anyone.

You ignored him as much as you could. Browsing on your laptop, you discovered, was a good way of keeping awake, probably because of the light from the screen, so you took the time to clean out your photos and drive. Matt did end up leaving briefly for a ten-minute jaunt down to the street, where he could apparently hear a man trying to rob a teenager, so you had the pleasure of watching him in action as Daredevil from the window. He'd gotten such a reputation in Hell's Kitchen at this point that he didn't even need the suit this time, let alone any fists. Merely walking menacingly, with the black mask tied around his head, was enough to make the robber flee in the other direction. You smiled to yourself, watching as Matt gently put a hand on the shoulder of the teen — presumably asking if he was alright.

1am.

2am.

3am.

Matt had fallen asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling gently. You didn't dare move for fear of waking him up.

4am.

5am.

The sun rose. The city woke up; chatter resumed on the streets, cars roared past.

8am. Ten hours to go. You glanced at the clock and yawned, listening appreciatively to the background clatter as Matt prepared breakfast. And then you glanced back at the clock.

It was swaying, back and forth, as though it were on a ship. You squinted at it, frowning. Sometimes the light from the bill board outside could throw the appearance of objects in the apartments and give them odd shadows. But, no, the clock was certainly swaying.

The strangest part was that nothing else in the apartment seemed to be moving. You checked, leveling your gaze at the flowers sitting on the table. But they were perfectly still. When you turned to the clock again, it was no longer moving.

You straightened, your heart beginning to beat faster. Something felt off.

And then, a man moved, his head ducking just out of sight behind the sliding door to the bedroom. You leapt to your feet just as a pot clanged behind you.

"What's wrong?" Matt was at your side, his eyebrows drawn together. "Your heart's racing—"

"There's a man in there!"

"In where?"

"The bedroom!" It seemed impossible to you that Matt didn't know what you were talking about. You'd seen the movement, it was there; someone was standing just inside the bedroom.

"There's no one in there," he said, slowly.

"I'll check, then." You marched forward, and it was a testament to Matt's confidence that no one was there that he didn't try to stop you but instead stood still as you peered into the room.

As he had said: no one was in there. Confusedly you glanced around, and even started to get on your knees to look under the bed, but then it occurred to you.

I'm seeing things. I must be seeing things, that has to be it. Matt had said sleep deprivation could do that, didn't he?

Your cheeks were hot as you came out of the bedroom to rejoin him by the couch. "Sorry. I thought I saw something," you said, as casually as possible. "Must have been the sunlight coming out from behind a cloud."

You didn't really expect Matt to buy your bullshit, and you were right. He snorted, and without warning, his hands were pressed against your shoulders, strong enough that you toppled backwards onto the couch. He leaned over you, settling with his knee against your chest as he straddled your waist.

You yelped. "What are you doing?"

"Pinning you here. Keeping you horizontal until you fall asleep." He ran his fingers over his watch. "It's early. I've got all day to wait here until you do."

"Matt!"

"Game over, Y/N. You need to get some sleep. And this isn't even about me not wanting to lose the bet anymore. I'm worried about you."

"Ha. I'll be fine. One little sleep and I'll be good as new. But in the meantime, I am not going to let you win just like that."

"If it's easier, I could just... take matters into my own hands." His fingers went to your throat, squeezing gently. Goosebumps prickled up your arms as his hands brushed under your jaw, flexing ever so slightly as though any second they would close and cut off your air flow. Despite the current weight of your eyelids, Matt's fingertips dancing over your neck was enough to make your heart start pumping.

You tipped your head back slightly. "You're going to choke me, but not in your suit? I must say, I'm disappointed."

Matt smirked. "Never said I was going to. I only threatened to."

"Oh." You could feel heat rising into your cheeks slightly. Really eloquent, absolutely articulate, way to use your words, Y/N—

"Either way, sweetheart," Matt continued, "You're not getting up from this couch anytime soon."

"Well, I assumed as much," you said, squirming slightly, but there was no getting Matt off of you. Unless you tickled him, maybe. You'd never tried that before. Was he ticklish? You reached up swiftly with your right hand, but got no closer than a foot away. His own hand snatched your wrist and, with ease, pinned that to the couch as well. Uselessly you wriggled under him, like a damn fish on a dock, but he had you down and there was no escaping him.

It didn't help that exhaustion was making you ramble more than usual. "So this is what it's like," you said, gazing up at Matt.

"What?"

"This is what it's like," you repeated. "I've always wondered how it feels to be some lowly criminal, lying on the dirty sidewalk and staring up at Daredevil as he looms over me."

Matt laughed. "Not quite. Typically I don't do this to criminals." And he leaned down, his lips meeting yours. You lifted your head to meet him, and then flopped back down, smiling.

"How do they not get transfixed by you?" you said. "I mean, seriously, if I were a criminal, I'd probably freeze on the spot if I saw you and then beg for you to be my paramour."

"Your paramour?"

"Mm. Paramour. Or courter. Wooer. My beau. I would say to you, 'I'm repenting, dear Daredevil! Spare me and take me into your arms!' Then we'd gallop away into the sunset together." You felt drunk; the words were spilling out of you before you knew what you were saying.

"I think you're just a tad overtired, sweetheart."

You snuggled in closer to him. "Tell me something."

"What do you want to hear?"

"I don't know. Maybe one of the bad guys you've fought recently. I want all the details — who it was, how you found them, what you did, what they did, and how you won."

Matt didn't question the request. He paused for a minute, maybe two, as he likely thought about it, and then he started talking, his voice low and warm. The sun was streaming across you and the smell of oatmeal cooking on the stove wafted in. You listened to him, at first, but then the words became a meaningless jumble, and then...

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Until there was a scraping sound. Then a chopping sound. More scraping, then a sizzle. The smell of onions was potent and it made your mouth water.

You sat up slowly, trying to process what was happening. "You're putting onions in the oatmeal?"

There was the sound of the knife being put down, and then Matt came in from the kitchen. "Sorry. Oatmeal got finished hours ago."

Your mouth drifted open. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What time is it?"

"Eight."

"A.M.?" you asked, knowing perfectly well as soon as you glanced to the window that it was far too dark to be eight in the morning. You didn't wait for him to answer. "Nope. It's P.M., isn't it? I slept the whole day?"

"You did. And I officially won the bet."

You groaned, standing up to stretch. "And now the entire Sunday is gone. Damn. I really thought I'd win." You remembered how you'd fallen asleep, on the couch with Matt on top of you. "Although you manipulated me. I don't think it counts."

"You fell asleep," he countered. "That was the only condition of the bet — you were supposed to not fall asleep in order to win."

"But without any influence from others! I didn't drink any coffee to aid myself, so it's not fair that you decided to obstruct me! I declare a red card, Murdock. We're going to redo this bet next weekend."

"Really? You want to go through all of that again?"

You considered it. The smell of onions was distracting. "Well, maybe not," you grumbled, coming up next to him to examine what he was making. "But if I didn't win the bet, then nor did you. We both lost, okay?"

And, maybe he was humoring you, but he shook your hand formally, as though you had completed a deal again.

It was a loss, of sorts, you reflected, but ultimately, nothing could be a loss, so long as you were with him.

[sillyteenagegirlinlovewithblocks]

Being watched by a handsome stranger.

Vylad Ro’ Maeve x reader.

Cw. Stalking, mention of death, kiddnap, vylad has crush on reader and it makes him do crazy things.

( guys I wrote this like Two weeks ago but I didn’t wanna finish it and I finally did today so yayyyy. Also tell me if you wnat a part two were they get tg or something.)

After vylad was turned into a shadow knight. He often visited O’khasis, just to check on his mother and make sure Zane's cruel actions against him hadn't spread to their mother. Vylad has always had a hold on his emotions, even the night Zane killed him in their garden. He didn't freak out or try and run he just complied with the fact of what was about to happen.

One night on his way back from O’Khasis vylad decided to stop in a village nearby for a place to stay for the night. He's never stayed in this village before but he's seen it many times and has heard many things about this place. He knows this place is ruled by a woman named Nakianoi and that she is the oldest of her three siblings who she takes care of. But she's a dictator. Often she governs how much everyone makes and doesn't allow individual businesses in her village. He learned while staying the night there that they have a curfew and that he’s lucky he wasn’t spotted by the guards or he would have spent the night in jail.

Once it was morning he was about to leave but he remembered he needed an herb for a potion. So he made his way to the market. After getting all he needed he was walking through the market to leave but then his whole body was stopped causing him to drop what was in his hand. Y/n a young woman who looked around his age. 18 maybe 19. Is sitting on the floor right across from him.

“Oh no I am so sorry sir!” she apologized while picking up his herb bag to hand to him. In return, he stares at her for a moment then takes the bag out of her hand and gets up so fast it makes her flinch then he just walks away??? Without a word. After a moment of watching him walk away and disappear into the tree, she gets up and goes on with her day thinking about the weird occurrence ends up forgetting it after a day or two.

Now it’s been months since that occurrence and she hasn’t seen him since then.

“Y/n seems to love nature she loves to walk around the forest all alone with nobody around. Sometimes even at night, she wanders far from her village without a guard or even a friend. Alone. It worries me every night I watch her, following her I worry and I can't stop because she won't.” vylad thinks to himself from two trees away from the one y/n is leaning up against while writing in her book.

“ I've been watching her for months and this is all she does. She wonders and then sits a writes. Why can't she do this at home where she is safe? At first, I was drawn to her because she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I was just going to watch her until Gene called me back to the nether and then I would move on but I can't stop, she's just so reckless. His thought ended promptly when he heard a noise coming from behind her. He starts to get closer as stealthily as he can but he's panicking because she won't even look at the noise Noor flinch.

“ is this girl stupid “ he thinks to himself.

Finally what was lurking behind her emerged from the bushes revealing itself to be just a bunny, “it's just a bunny a small little bunny. No threat no harm.” he repeated to himself as if he were trying to comfort himself. Now he is still in the tree right above her and she still hasn't noticed him or the bunny that came from the bushes. This is the closest he's been to her since that day in the market. He feels so rude for how he reacted, he just got scared. Scared of how he didn't even notice her causing him to bump into her. Scared of how for a moment while on the ground with her the only thing he could think about was how gorgeous she was and how her voice was so enchanting and calming. He just couldn’t get it out of his head, she was like a songbird. Sometimes he would hear her hum to herself while walking. It was nostalgic.

Now that he’s standing over her he needs to adjust himself in a manner that allows him to see her face clearly after all that was why he did this in the first place. To watch as she lives her human life with her human expressions and human experience. Not because of envy that he doesn't get those experiences or to hurt her. He would never but now after getting to know her by watching her in a distance. Listening to the way she speaks and treats things around her, he would also never let anything hurt her.

But While adjusting a piece of bark fell from the tree and fell right on her. Yet she still didn't move or look. He finds this confusing how hasn't she noticed?

“Why hasn't she noticed? “

“I find it hard to believe. “ he thought to himself.

It’s hours after dark now practically the middle of the night and she still hasn’t gone home yet. He didn’t realize at first but she’s asleep?

“Out here all alone she chose to sleep?!?! What is the matter with this girl? Doesn’t she know there are thefts, men that could hurt her, and monsters in the shadows? There's one right here next to her “ he refers to himself.

But his mind lectures and fears are about to come true as he hears a group of men in the distance speaking to each other but he can't make out what they are saying. They are too far. So he gets closer.

“Tonight we take the village. Tomorrow we rule the village. The woman and the children “ what seems to be the group leader shouts to his group of men. The only village close to here and in their course of direction is y/n village.

“That must be where they're going.” vylad thinks to himself. “ I can't let her go back there if those men are going to try and take the place with force I presume. I also can't let them see her or they will take her “ he's not sure what to do but he needs to think fast because the men start to get on their horses and head towards the village. He gets back to her as quickly as he can and in this moment there is nothing else he can do except take her.

“ I can't leave this room, I can't stop watching her sleep. I'm anxiously waiting for when she wakes up. She's going to be very upset, maybe she will scream at me she has every reason to. I kidnapped her. Even though it was done to protect her she doesn't know that. I should keep my distance when she wakes up and sees a strange man standing above her I’m certain she will freak out. Why would I do this I could have minded my business. Been half way around the world but I’m wasting my time with this girl. Just cause she makes me feel this pit in my stomach. Maybe she spelled me I mean all of this is unlike me.” He pasted back and forth.

After maybe ten minutes of him pasting he hears a Russell in the bed as she moves around. And moans slightly assuming it’s because she’s comfortable.

“ she’s starting to wake up” he panics he doesn’t know what to do now that she’s waking up. Maybe he will scream he’s so nervous. She sits up and looks around slowly but then she sets her eyes on vylad.

“ um hello “ she says softy.

“ hello “ he says back. She bites her lips and continues to look around for a second then looks back at him with a confused expression.

“ why am I here ? “ she says weirdly calm as if she didn’t just get kidnapped.

“ well you fell asleep in the woods and then then men were on there way to attack your village so I brought you here so they wouldn’t get to you” he answers. She nods her head gently and stands up.

“ so do you think they succeeded?” She asks.

“ I’m not certain. There was word of there attack this morning rumored in the village but just that not whether they achieved there goal. “ she nods again in agreement to his words.

“ well then I can’t go back “ she smiles.

He’s confused why she would be happy about this. What about her sister or her people?.

“ I’m sorry about that. I’m sure whatever home you choose with be just as good as the one you had before” he sympathize.

“ better I hope. I’m very sad at the life’s that could have been lost or what is happening there but I would have rather been dead then to stay under my sisters dictatorship much longer. I wasn’t aloud to be a person because it made her jealous but now I hope her peace in her fate and freedom in mine.” She explains.

“ thank you for saving me sir, please let me repay you in some way” she suggested.

“ no it is alright miss I don’t need anything for saving you. Your life is payment enough” he denied her request. With a smile on her face she gets closer to him.

“ well thank you “ she says while looking deeply into his eyes. But then she squints.

“ do I know you from somewhere else ? “ she asks.

“ no I don’t think so ma’am. “ lied.

“ mhm I feel like I do” she observes him more closely but he quickly turns away.

“ I need to go now but I hope you get the freedom you wanted.” He says as he walks out the door leaving her to her new life.

“ oh bye “ she says but he’s already gone.

“Until we meet again “

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia Chapter 429 Spoiler Talk: The Penultimate Chapter

So here it is. The second to last chapter of My Hero Academia. Unless Horikoshi gives us a sequel series like Naruto: Shippuden, this and the next chapter is the last we'll get manga content about MHA. Well, at least until Horikoshi gives us another Ultra Analysis book or an art book with extra information. It's still hard to believe honestly. I don't know if I'll be able to accept that our beloved series is ending until it actually does. Let's see what Horikoshi-sensei gives us until then. Also, my health isn't 100% today, so I apologize if my writing sounds messy:

First off is our last Weekly Shonen Jump and Chapter color pages! They are absolutely beautiful celebrating both the 10th anniversary and My Hero Academia as a whole. Everyone is smiling and it's a wonderful sight to see. I won't show them here because I think they deserve to be seen with your own two eyes. Let's just say that I love them and I can't wait to get the HQ versions of them when the official release comes out. Just know that you can tell Horikoshi put a lot of love into these pages.

From here on out, I think I'm just going to talk about what I thought of the chapter because I'm not 100% down to type everything out tonight. Sorry about this:

I think the chapter was another solid one, though it somehow still doesn't feel like the series is ending yet for me.

I'm glad we got to see Ochako and Deku talk about not being able to save their respective villains because we all know how badly this was haunting them. Neither of them would have been able to move on and genuinely smile again until they got that all out to someone who understood. Thankfully, they have each other 💚💖. I'm also really glad Deku told Ochako she was his hero and let her take her hand. This is the closest we'll probably get to an actual romantic confession from either of them unless Horikoshi does something for them in the last chapter. The thing is, it works because this wasn't the time for a love confession. This was a time for two broken people to talk their trauma out and get reassurance from someone close to them.

Really sad to hear that Himiko Toga did die. Granted it was from Ochako's dialogue and we didn't see any panel with her body drawn, but we can really only take her word for it now. Horikoshi could absolutely pull a fast one on us and show a glimpse of her alive in the final chapter. However, I think it's safe to say that she is dead and that honestly sucks.

I love the slice-of-life panels we get of the rest of the kids and seeing Aizawa smile is beautiful! He's so proud of his kids 🥹.

Monoma getting a statue at the school and bragging about it is fucking hilarious 🤣! He honestly deserves it though because the whole world would've been dead if not for him. Deku better get a statue too or else I'm going to throw hands.

Eri excitedly singing at Aoyama's farewell party is the most wholesome thing I've seen in a very long time and I truly hope she achieves her dream someday 🤍! Make her the best idol in the world, Horikoshi!

Finally, there's that mysterious man we saw a few chapters ago. We still don't know his name, but we're told he was abused and abandoned by his family because he has a mutant Quirk similar to how Eri's Quirk in the sense that neither of their Quirks were inherited by their family's DNA. He looked like he was going to walk down a similar path as Tenko, but the old lady who first ignored Tenko many years back found this new man and finally offered him a hand thanks to Izuku's inspiration. This is sort of a redemption for the old lady. I know that she was a catalyst for why Tenko became who he became, but I think this is a start for her to start over at least. Thankfully, I think this man is going to be ok.

I remember reading the interviews Horikoshi did over the past week and one of the things he said he wanted to express was that even someone having your back is heroism. Someone who can do something so simple as reaching their hand out when someone is in need is a hero to that person. You can tell that that is what Horikoshi is telling us here. He also said that making us cry was an important part of the story too because it's how he wants us to connect with it, so I expect to shed tears next week.

So, yeah. That's the second to last chapter of the main My Hero Academia manga. It still doesn't feel real to me. The final page of the chapter left things open-ended, so I would not be surprised if we got a time skip of some sort in the final chapter. I honestly thought that Horikoshi was setting up one more villain for the kids to fight with that mysterious man, but it was wrapped up in a very simple yet poignant way. I will agree that it feels rushed and that there's something missing, but I can't pinpoint what. Horikoshi's been writing and drawing this manga for 10+ years at this point, so I can't entirely blame him for wanting to finish things up. However, I'm a little more nervous about him sticking the landing for the ending. While I think he can still do it, I've seen too many mangaka end their story on a bad note for one reason or another. Our best bet is that he revises or adds some things to make the chapter better in the volume version. I'm going to do my best to keep my optimism alive for the next few weeks.

I honestly can't begin to accurately predict how the manga will end. I could see it ending with the kids continuing their lives at UA, at graduation, or as pro-hero adults maybe with families of their own. Honestly, anything goes. Part of me wants to be here when the chapter might get leaked next Wednesday, but another part of me wants to wait until next Sunday for the official VIz release so I can read and cry together with everyone else. I think I am going to try to do the latter and then write some kind tribute to honor the series, but I may or may not be out of town next week, so I'll have to see about that.

One more chapter left.

[ask-welland-and-the-uk-bros]

An Event? On my Ask Welland and the UK brothers blog? More likely than you think!

Uh-oh! This is what they get for not checking the mail everyday... Usually England does it, why did this important letter have to arrive when he was on a business trip? Luckily he checked the letterbox as soon as he arrived, and he found this: A party invitation letter for Welland... But the date of the event is today in...THIRTY FIVE MINUTES!?

Well, at least the Party City store is 5 minutes away from the house, and if they ignore the laws of safe driving, they should be able to make it from there to the event in 5 minutes too... Only thing left to worry about is the costume. If they only take 5 minutes to try out each costume they consider... they should be able to try out a few before making a final choice?

[EVENT INFO BELOW]

[Hi yall :) The event i teased a few times is finally there! Sorry for the long wait lol... I admit i got lazy. this is the test event]

[Okay so, PARTICIPATION AND RULES!]

[TO SUBMIT A COSTUME you need to send an ask with the picture attached. In case you want to stay anonymous, you can by submitting a link to the image, and your costume might get picked still, but then you will not win any prize as i can't verify who posted the submission. Descriptions of costumes are not valid submissions, but you can name a specific character with their full name and/or recognisable nickname and the media they're from. Nothing innapropriate of course, we're dressing a child up. Fake blood is fine though. I will be drawing Welland wearing any costumes i pick. You can place several submissions, but i can only pick one costume from each person.] [Note: you don't have to draw the costume or Welland wearing the costume, just an image you find on the internet works!]

[THE EVENT WILL LAST 6 POSTS, 5 asks and one poll. So as long as you haven't seen 5 costume asks answered, you can still submit images! Don't feel bad if your costume isn't picked. After all, places are limited. And... your costume might end up appearing in the final post anyways, who knows?]

[Once 5 asks are answered, the submission period ends. I will make a week long poll with all the costumes i've drawn and you will vote for the winner. Once that is done, a winner will be declared and i will release a little story with Welland having fun at the party in the costume :) ]

[Here are the prizes! 1st place - Fully shaded and stuff drawing from me of anything you want, doesn't have to be hetalia related 2nd place - a colored doodle of anything you want, not necessarily hetalia either 3rd place - same as 2nd place]

[I really hope everyone finds this fun!]

[thegreenleavesofspring]

How do you tear yourself away once you created a hole of sin for yourself? I'm trying to stop sinning- especially with what I ship (I won't go into details but it's bad) I want to go back to christ and I don't know what to do

Me personally? Usually several weeks to a month of combination beating myself up and sulking before I break and end up ugly crying on my bathroom floor or under my couch or somewhere else weird while sobbing out prayers. It's not a process I actually recommend, however.

More seriously, though. There are a few things to keep in mind:

He actually really, really wants you to talk to Him again. He wants to restore that broken relationship. He is not standing ready with a rod - those stripes already fell on another back. He is standing ready with a hug and immeasurable love.

No matter how filthy you feel (and I speak here from experience) His blood is sufficient to wash it all gone. Say the word and repent, and it'll be gone. One of Satan's favorite tactics is tricking us into beating ourselves up over something that the very God of the Universe has obliterated from His memory.

(This is a lesson that I'm still learning.)

That part is, once you can screw yourself up to it, easy enough. It's easy enough to repent. It's breaking the habit of the sin that is oh so hard. Not backsliding right back into it all. And I'm sorry, there is no quick and easy fix for that. (I really wish there were.) It's a teeth-gritted drawn out process. I do some of the usual recommendations - a bit of Bible reading every morning, forcefully turning my thoughts into other directions, thinking of what He suffered for our sin - this can make you lose your taste for it, at least right then, very abruptly; to think of yourself pounding in the nails - any sort of distraction to pull one's mind away from the immediate temptation and back to God.

That said, I'm going to be presumptuous and make some guesses and assertions based on you saying the problem is your shipping specifically. And I'm going to guess that maybe you've got some unhealthy relationships with relationships in general, or will. Or maybe not! But maybe look into that.

That aside, it might be useful to look into what, exactly, about the ship or ships draws you in. If it's just straight-up perversion, yeah scrap that for good. If there are other elements, however, deconstruct it and pick out what exactly it is that you like. Is it the characters' personalities? Backgrounds? Chemistry? Something else? If you can take the elements that aren't sinful and apply them elsewhere, you can start realigning your own preferences into something healthier.

That's the thing; all relational and sexual perversion is Satan's twisting of something very, very good - something designed specifically to mirror Christ's relationship with His Church. There's nothing inherently wrong with shipping as long as it's done right, or liking two compatible characters. I've seen a lot of people do genderbenders to make M/M or F/F ships M/F; I've got no personal opinion on that either way.

But ultimately: pray. Pray pray pray pray pray pray pray. You can't do this. Straight up? You can't do it. Not by your own power. You have to want to. You have to be willing to strive to. But you'll never, ever do it alone. You can't. He's got to do His work in you. And you have to ask Him to.

You can't tear out of that hole. The only way to get out of that hole is to just suck it up and go "Hey. God. I really messed up, I messed up so much, and I need You to do something about it." Pride is a big fat horsechoker pill going down (speaking from experience) and it can make a body squirm to go crawling back feeling absolutely filthy (speaking from experience) especially if it's instance 3,257 of the exact same sin you've been trying to kick for years (speaking from experience) but it is, in the end, the only way out. You've gotta ask Him to throw you a rope, and the only way to do that is to start praying. Some denominations have you Confess it to either a priest or a member of a congregation, but ultimately you're going to have to pray about it anyway. (Speaking from experience.) No matter how much your flesh really, really, really doesn't want to.

I know the guilt looks like an impassable brick wall. I promise it's not. It's an illusion. He's got a wrecking ball that can shatter those bricks into nothing and He's waiting for you to ask Him. Doesn't matter how many bricks, how high, how thick. That Blood can wash it all away.

TL/DR: Pray. Especially if you don't feel like you can or should.

I'm praying for you, Anon. ❤

[atinyjules]

Treasure reaction to S/O's henna design (hyung line)

Sooo, I'm back and this was requested by a lovely anon whose birthday is todayy, Happy birthday again to...imma call her anon🌼

🦋✨🌼🌻

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Treasure x Reader

Warnings: It's full of Fluff

Hyunsuk

Stunned. When he sees your beautiful hands he's too stunned to speak like you were really beautiful to him before but the henna made you more beautiful...he thinks to himself if it's possible to become more beautiful.

"What is this masterpiece in your hand and why is it so cool?" he says and examines your hands.

"It's called henna, its like a dye...you like it?" he scoffs at your words and takes your hands into his as he looked at it.

"Like it? I love it! It's so beautiful...how do they draw these designs so perfectly?"

In short he just admires it for the rest of the time and maybe even coordinates some outfits to go with your henna art.

Jihoon

"The hell is that?! Is that a tatoo or what is it?" h equestions as you roll your eyes at him.

"I've literally had this on since last week, how are you even seeing it just now?" you ask as he sits infront of you and take your hands in his.

"Oh sorry for not noticing then...but but is this?" he asks as you smile and flex your hands.

"It's called henna, it's a natural dye...it's kind of like a temporary painless tattoo...that's how I see it."

He's just amazed by the intricate details on your hands and has to ask you once or twice if the art on your hands were drawn on by a machine cause it's just so perfect. Lowkey loves it on you.

"You should get it done more often." he says and kisses your hands.

Yoshi

"What is this again?" he asked as you applied your makeup.

"Henna...it's for my friend's wedding remember?" you said as he nodded in realisation.

"Ohhh, I remember...but damn it looks cool, how do they put it on so well? It's so pretty it elevates the whole look you're going for." he says and plants a kiss on your palm.

If he was affectionate and clingy before, expect him to become 3x more. He thinks that your hands look gorgeous with it and is just obsessed with your hands the whole time. Hell, your hands are the only thing he's looking at even during the wedding. If you ever want Yoshi to become more affectionate now you know that henna's the way.

Junkyu

Heart eyes 24/7.

Boy is so obsessed with the art on your hands that he won't let you work and destroy it nomatter how many time you have to tell him that it won't wash off. But Junkyu's finally home after a month away and well you ain't complaining at the attention he's giving you.

"Where'd you get it done from?" he asked as you cheekily smiled.

"India....just kidding, there was a three day cultural expo. I got it there." you say as he smiles and looks at you with love and adoration.

"It's so beautiful...a beautiful henna art for my beautiful y/n." he says making you blush as you pull your hands away.

"Stopp~" you whined as he began pressing kisses to you hands, starting a tickling battle.

[babamiasworld]

Something About Him || Pt. 2

Human!Bully!Ao’nung x Fem!Reader (Highschool AU)

{Part 1}

Summary: just filler tbh- im trying to set the scene for the rest of the fic

Content Warnings: swearing, random capitalization cause im lazy, and i think that's it

Additional Character Glossary:

Tirotay - ur younger brother

:readmore:

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The first week of school was almost over, and i've ,managed to shove my anxiousness to the side since i’m starting to get into the grove of things. however there was still one class that i only had during the end of the week; social studies. pretty easy subject from what i know since its essentially just common knowledge for the most part, and some people would say its exciting to see your new class for the year, but not when your new, and especially when you late.

“I said i’m sorry (y/n)” said Tirotay, speedwalking to keep up with me.

“Argh, Tiro, I seriously don’t understand how you manage to lose your shoes on the first week of school” I retorted, not listening to his apology

“I don’t remember putting them under my bed okay!”

“Under your bed is the first place you should look!”

“Urgh- I didn’t know that okay.” he sighed in frustration.

I didn’t have the energy to formulate a response, so his statement was only met with a frustrated huff from me. As we entered the school, we both silently parted ways, making our way to first period. I stood in the hallway, double checking my timetable to make sure i got the right room. Sigh…i’d rather just skip school then do this right now. I take a deep breath— my anxiety was starting to bubble inside of me— i grabbed the door handle and entered the room.

As i walked in, the class goes silent, and all eyes are on me, making my heart rate quicken, but having enough self control i swallow it down. My attention is immediately drawn to the teacher; an older looking woman who looked like she was surviving on coffee alone.

“Can i help you?” she said, clearly not fond of the interruption.

“Oh, i’m in this class, just running a bit late today.”

“A bit?” she said, looking at her watch before looking back at me, “Your almost half an hour late.”

“Well, better late than never.” i say lazily, shrugging it off.

“Name?” she said, an attitude laced in her words.

“(Y/n).”

“Last name?” she curtly said, looking at what seemed to be the class roll.

“My name should be at the bottom.” My response making her look at me for a moment, as if to intimidate me. i can already tell this woman isn’t gonna make this a fun class. Felt like she was making a spectacle of me, and this being in front of a bunch of strangers made my face feel hot from embarrassment.

“Alright Tardy, there’s an empty seat at the back there.” looking over her glasses, gesturing to a desk with her whiteboard marker. “Sit.” she finished. ignoring the nickname she gave me, my eyes landed on an empty desk, trailing to a familiar face sitting next to it. Ao’nung; causing my face contort into one of distain.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I walk over and take my seat, trying to completely block out his presence…though he was making it real fucking hard by side eyeing me, as if i didn’t have peripherals or something. but nonetheless i tried my best to ignore his gaze, pulling out my book and pencil case instead. As i got settled, i glanced up at the board to get an idea on what we were learning, and my eyes had landed on a name in the corner; Ms. Longbottom. The name being mildly amusing in a boring class was enough to make me crack a smile, looking down at my desk in hopes no one noticed, though unbeknownst to me, a certain someone did.

As the teacher continued her lesson, my brain was on the brink of insanity just trying to comprehend what the hell she was talking about, and there was a point where i just gave up. Her words slowly started to merge together, leaning on my hand, i started to fall asleep.

Suddenly a hand made contact with my forearm, causing my head to slam onto my desk. “ACK-!” i held my forehead as if to relieve the pain. i look up at the perpetrator who just so happens to be my favorite person. “Argh- what the fuck.”

He’s looking down at me; both metaphorically and literally, with this stupid shit eating grin on his face. “You’re drooling.” he scoffs. heat rose to my cheekslook, turning my face away, using my thumb to wipe side of my mouth. ‘This asshole has way too much confidence.’ The gesture making him chuckle, taking me back a bit.

“Fuck off Ao’nung.” i sigh, his smug face faltering for a split second.

“You know my name?” he said in his usual low tone.

“You’re pretty hard to ignore.” i say, packing up my things and getting up to leave, though much to my dismay, he follows me in pursuit.

“Why are you in a hurry?” he mocked.

“Trying to get the fuck away from you.” i said curtly, trying to end this interaction as soon as i could.

Once more i’m trying my best to ignore his presence, but again, it’s really hard when tailing my ass. As kids are pooling out of their classrooms, i try my best to loose him by weaving myself through the crowd, and when i look over my shoulder, he’s out of sight. with my mind finally at ease, i make it to my next class

-

“Alright class, today you’re going to be assigned in groups for this semesters project. and before anyone gets excited, all the groups will be chosen by random.” The teacher’s statement being met with the class’ disapproval. “Ah-! i don’t wanna hear any complaints since the last time you were given the choice to choose your own groups, more than half of you got no work done.” She went on to explain that it will be decided by drawing color coded sticks from a small tin can; calling us up to take our pick. I reached my hand out, pulling out my stick which had colored tape at the end of it. yellow.

“Hey,” A voice spoke up, bringing my attention to the student standing in front of me. “Looks like we’re in a group.” The boy said, my eyes trailing down his hand, with a stick identical to mine. He didn’t seem an awkward guy, but i could tell he was friendly, giving him a faint smile.

“seems about right. i’m (y/n).”

“Lo’ak.” the boy replied, nodding his head at me with a small smile. Before my mind could linger any longer, our teacher ushered us back to our seats.

“Alight, so for this assignment you’ll have to discuss an important topic going on in the world. Even though the year has only started, there are numerous things to speak on. But nothing specific really, as long as its not stupid.” the teacher said, her eyes landing on a pair of boys, who in return looked offended. i smile to myself at the teasing, looking over to the boy who was now seated in the desk next to mine. “So, you have anything in mind?” i asked, not really expecting much of an answer, but still decided to ask anyway.

“Oh, well to be honest, i’m not really good at this subject, its not my strongpoint so i don’t know if ill be much help.” the boy looked down sheepishly, rubbing one of his braids between his fingers.

“No that’s ok, i’m sure we can come up with something.” i reassured, already having something in mind.

—————————-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-—————————

don’t be afraid to lmk what u think, or if you want to give suggestions for future scenarios u want to see (not guaranteed but will think abt it) 😚

taglist & list<3

@dotheyevenknowmars @ilovejakesullysdick @itsmclain

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Shinkai Tenun no Shou Stellaworth Booklet "Her Long Day" Part 1

Sorry this is late... but I was pretty busy yesterday, and I likely will have to push next week's translation to the following Monday or Tuesday as I'll be travelling soon and won't have access to my laptop for a period of time... alternatively, I'll just translate more next Thursday because this story has 12 sections, one for each of the routes.

Though I'm having eye problems again so maybe not... 😢

Hakuoki Shinkai Tenun no Shou Stellaworth Booklet "Her Long Day" Part 1

translation by KumoriYami

Note up top... so before all the "x character moment" text, there's a term... which I'm not entirely sure what to do with. I'm pretty sure there are Japanese equivalents of what the hour ranges are referred to, but I've left them as they are in Chinese since I'm not sparing time to fix things right now but the range of time themselves are then specified in the "《X~Y o'clock》" part that follows after. I have no idea if it's like that in the booklet, but as it was in the tl I translated, I decided to keep it as is.

Maoshi · Souma Moment 《5~7 o'clock》

Everyday, I always begin with hearing birdsongs.

"......Nn.....Nnn......"

The singing voices of the sparrows that rested in the backyard served in place as an alarm clock and reverberated into my eyes.

I wanted to sleep a bit more, I tried to say so as my eyelids fluttered...

The hazy morning light came in through the sliding door and caressed my cheeks.

"......Is it.... morning..... already.......?"

To be honest, I didn't sleep last well last night, but it was my turn to cook breakfast today….

As someone in the care of the Shinsengumi, I can't procrastinate.

"Alright, i need to go wash my face...!"

I got up, and straightened myself up.

After getting dressed, I went into the corridor and the cool morning air enveloped my body.

Everyone was still sleeping, so I need to be careful to not wake them up.

As I thought that while walking toward the well, I was startled by a sound coming from the courtyard.

"——Hei! Ha! Huah!"

"....Huh, Souma-kun?"

His sword carved an arc of light and shadow, repeatedly tearing through the early morning air.

I was drawn to the by the unembellished shining blade without any confusion [???], and stared intently at Souma-kun, who after noticing my presence, stopped training.

"Ah, Yukimura-senpai. Good morning."

"Nn, good morning… You've started training this early?"

"Yes. I wanted to move my body before everyone gets up."

"Even so, you woke up early, right…"

It was almost an hour before everyone else would wake up.

Originally, pages slept later than others due to being busy with chores. Could Souma-kun still rest properly after waking up so early...?

Souma-kun didn't seem to see my concerns, and clenched his fists energetically as he spoke.

"My swordsmanship can't be compared to other people's, so even if it's only for a short while, I don't want to lose out on an opportunity to practise."

"That's why you're already practising...?"

"Yes! One day, I'm going to catch up with everyone…!"

"......How dazzling......"

I unconsciously said that.

Regardless of what happens to us two in the Shinsengumi, he will surely be able to show that dazzling smile I admire while at my side..

"And if I wake up early, I can see Senpai. That's also one of the reasons."

"See me?….You can see me at any time…."

"But, if the first person I see of the day is Senpai, there will be special sense of accomplishment."

"......."

"What is it, Senpai?"

"No, it's nothing. I just think I should be working harder!"

"??"

Souma-kun occasionally things that make people feel embarrassed like this.

For the sake of preventing others from noticing the embarassmened expression on my face this morning, I decided to quickly wash my face.

Chenshi·Toudou Moment《7~9 o'clock》

I washed my face by the well, did up my hair into a bun, and freshened up again.

I renewed my spirit and left for the kitchen which was located at the corner of headquarters.

Ultimately, the Shinsengumi is a large organization, and the number of executives and soldiers alone is quite a lot.

That's why cooking duty is done by several alternating members…

"......Hey, Chizuru."

"What is it, Heisuke-kun?"

"Isn't it torture to ask me to make breakfast while I'm hungry…?"

Heisuke-kun was in charge of breakfast with me today, looked unhappy for some reason.

To be precise, his salivating face seemed somewhat resentful as he stared at the large pot.

"What's wrong with you? You seem more haggard this morning than usual…"

"Uh… I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday…"

"Eh…!? You didn't eat dinner yesterday?"

As I recalled dinner last night, I turned my head.

It's true that the Eigth Division's patrol was extended last nigt and they couldn't make it to dinner, but its members had rice balls that they could take back to their rooms… In that case…

"Yeah, I got some rice balls, but on my way back to my room, I noticed a stray cat in the courtyard. Since I felt sorry for it, I shared my rice balls with it."

"In that case, couldn't you have gone to explain that to get another one…?"

"I thought that too, but wasn't Takeda-san in charge of dinner yesterday?"

"Ah..."

"Anyway you must be lying about eating, right? When he said that, he wouldn't give me another one."

“……”

It's true that Heisuke-kun sometimes steals food.

So it's not unreasonable to doubt him from his normal behaviour.

But....

"....Heisuke-kun."

I looked around.

After confirming that there wasn't anyone, I secretly handed him the tamagoyaki that I just made.

"Chizuru...""

"This was just made... eat it while it's still hot."

"Ah, uh…. but is this really okay? Don't you normally get angry when I swipe food…?"

"...Today's circumstances are special. Furthermore, this is just a sample for you to taste, that's all."

It's really pitiful to have done something that was obviously good, but not have enough to eat.

Heisuke-kun stuffed a piece of tamagoyaki into his mouth with moist eyes.

"Delicious…! Thank you, Chizuru. I love this sweet/gentle and soft part of you!"

"Love....?"

"Ah————no, although I said love, I however actually meant this/mean um. I mean there's nothing special!"

"Hm...?"

"Al-Alright, I'm full of energy again, so let's hurry up and prepare breakfast!"

For some reason, Heisuke-kun seemed to be a bit flustered, but he finally regained his spirits.

In order to not lose to him, I also turned around to face the large pot.

----to be continued---

sorry, i meant to do three of these, but i'm short on time right now and trying to rush something else.... (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Also tamagoyaki are a type of Japanese omelettes.