#need to do my notes need to actually prepare something that makes me . worthy of my position I Guess

[scara-meow-che]

then they were roommates ┃ sweet deception with thoma

CW. NSFW (MDNI), afab! reader with no set of pronouns, roommate! thoma, use of sedatives, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it!), pervert! thoma, noncon, he takes pics of you, male masturbation, pervert and a bit ooc thoma ♥︎

AN. another reposted work. i promise that i'd be posting new ones soon <3 just a little more from my part on actually editing the drafts that i have here but anyway, enjoy our ooc pervert, roomie thoma!

thoma is the sweetest roommate you’d ever ask for!

besides the fact that he constantly reminds you of the tasks you have absentmindedly forgotten or prepares breakfast in the morning, he also helps you with your projects whenever he has some time to spare.

you also want to take note of the tea he always makes!

“hey thoma! you haven’t told me what brand this tea is.”

the weekend had just arrived and you were left sprawled in the comforts of your blankets while watching another rom-com with thoma. he was laid adjacent to your side, the two loveseats occupied by your tired bodies.

“silly, how many times do i need to tell you that i handmade this! you can help me pick up the ingredients tomorrow morning if you want,” thoma offers with a smile. he can see how you immediately perked up in interest, nodding your head in agreement. “well, just make sure that you sleep early now since i often leave around 5.”

and he hears you grunt afterward.

“come on now, you wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this, yeah?” he encourages you, standing up from his seat. he eyes you, taking a huge sip of your tea before dropping down the cup on the nearby table. he shudders, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips before he reaches out both his hands to help you stand up.

as you do, you can feel your body slipping into a relaxed state, almost stumbling and falling back into the seat. but thoma was fast and had an arm wrapped around your body, gently cradling you in his warmth.

“easy now,” he mumbles. it felt quite nice to be wrapped in his embrace as the nature of his being caring seeps through while he guides you to your room. “getting sleepy now, aren’t you?”

you hummed, feeling the softness of your blanket caressing your skin as thoma gently lays you down on your bed. as each second passes by, you find your eyes can barely keep themselves open. and before you were consumed by sleep, you can hear the faint whisper from your roommate, a sweet smile etched on his face.

“sweet dreams f/n.”

it was truly sweet, thoma had always been like this every day and you barely notice the patterns. he is someone so kind, dependable, selfless, and caring so you trust him. there’s never a reason to doubt him, not when he had you gullible just as he wanted to.

don’t get him wrong but thoma genuinely cares for you. he likes you, a lot. but the intensity of his emotions quickly becomes too much for him to handle. you were so pretty, so perfect in his eyes that he can’t help but give you what he thinks you’d want, what you’d like, what you’d find worthy of your affection.

but he thinks that fucking you when you’re asleep is something you wouldn’t approve of.

when he sees the steady motion of your chest, lungs pumping air in and out of your relaxed and vulnerable state, he’s quick to adjust your body, letting you lie flat on your back and your legs pressed on each side. you’ve always looked beautiful to him, no matter what you wear, no matter how unkempt your hair was.

and he finds you most beautiful spread out like this for him to take. an angel you are in his eyes.

he groans when he feels his cock ache inside his tight pants. you’re just that perfect, fuck, he’s so damn lucky that he’s the one who gets to share this apartment space with you and not just a random bastard who wouldn’t treat you like he does.

he just hope you wouldn’t find out the debauched person he can be.

thoma wants to put all the blame on you. you should be held accountable for how adorable you are, and how your beaming eyes always had him hooked whenever you tell him what happened in uni. you should know that he’s utterly smitten from how much you cling to him, trusting him to the point where you don’t even notice that the tea he makes was the very reason why he had you pressed down like this.

of course, he wouldn’t dare hurt you. he’s not an asshole who just takes advantage of you like this and ends up hurting you in any way or form. thoma would spend the time preparing you, holding you, and pleasing you before he could even please himself.

as he had your legs spread open, he would gently remove your pants, revealing you in your underwear. he finds it cute how you wear this particular pair every weekend, the soft pastel red cotton undies he always love!

then he would notice how you’d shiver, feeling the cold gust of wind welcoming your flushed skin. thoma would cover you up with the blanket he made for you, smiling as he remembers how you were elated to receive this from him.

as he provides you a source of warmth, he would continue and leave kisses on your thighs, his large hands pressing down to spread your legs wider. he dares not leave any hickeys, as much as his mind tells him to mark you already. he can do that later when you’re finally sober enough to know what the hell he’s doing.

after leaving feather-like kisses on both your thighs, thoma would press two of his fingers between your clothed cunt, sliding up and down your slit. he can hear the gentle hums of satisfaction escaping your lips.

“even when you’re in deep sleep, you’ve always loved being pleasured like this, huh?” he whispers, putting in some pressure that the tip of his finger glides down your clit. “we wouldn’t want to mess this though,” he adds before he hooks two of his fingers to the band of your underwear and slowly pulls it off your body.

with your lower half exposed for his eyes to feast on, thoma almost came at the sight of your cunt slightly shimmering from your slick. he curses under his breath, impatient because he just wants to shove his cock but had put an immense focus so to mentally stops himself.

before he even loses control, he moves his head down and has his lips close in your cunt. he hums, satisfied, tasting you as his tongue laps up and down your clit. he can finally taste you, so sweet against the sensitive flesh of his mouth. you were addicting, thoma can’t help but give your pussy lips a kiss before he had his whole mouth sucking on your poor cunt.

he felt your thighs occassionally close back from the sensation, your eyebrows furrowing that your sleep-induced state tries to focus on the pleasurable feeling you’re receiving between your legs.

“you’re so damn cute,” thoma mutters before he goes back on assaulting your sensitive clit. he wants to hear you moan, to hear you whimper about how good he’s treating you, how good he was on eating you out, on pleasing you but that can wait.

after flicking his tongue on your sensitive nub, he had two fingers slowly pumping in and out of your hole. you were so wet, so ready for him to take but he wants to make you cum first. thoma goes back on sucking on your clit as his fingers smoothly go in and out of your hole, adjusting it to reach the most sensitive spot inside that he knew by heart. you were so warm, so tight around two of his digits.

the pleasure he gets from fucking you like this had him rutting his hips down the bed, cock itching to shove itself inside your warmth and have your tight walls snuggle it closer. his pants' already ruined from his pre. he groans as he does so, eyes peering up to witness how your back softly arched from the vibrations he had let go on your clit. thoma can feel how close you are, your warm walls sucking him in with fervor.

“that’s it f/n. go on, cum for me,” he says even if you won’t even hear him or know that it was him pleasuring you like this. your walls clamped on his fingers, your hole gushing out so much slick as thoma didn’t stop sliding his digits in and out to ride your high.

your body was still shaking a bit from the aftermath of your orgasm when thoma swiftly moved up and pulled his hard and aching cock out of his already-ruined pants. he hissed as the warmth of his hands made contact with his skin, quickly rubbing the bulbous head on your cunt to relieve himself from the pain.

“‘want you so badly, f/n, just let me—” slowly, he pushes himself inside your walls, grunting at the sudden tightness engulfing him. he eyes your body, those emerald hues watching every twitch of your eyebrow and how your chest lets go of a shaky breath as he finally pushes all the way in. “fuck, you feel so good around me.”

thoma’s head was spinning at the view he’s getting of you even more when he looks down to where you’re both connected. his long girth feels just perfect to be inside you, smoothly sliding in and out. hell, he wanted to roughly bend you in half and shove himself as deep as he could but you might wake up. he doesn’t want that but fuck, you’re making it so hard for him.

in seconds, he rocks his hips against your body, his thighs softly smacking against your butt as he slowly ruts himself in your core. thoma bites down on his lips, focusing on being gentle while getting the most out of your cunt. he closes his eyes, savoring how your walls sucks him in, tightening every time he bottoms out. he was so big yet he had managed to have you adjust to his size perfectly, molding you to have his cock alone.

he was close, the pleasure so intense on bis lower half he had somehow let go of his focus and started a rather quick pace in fucking you. he hears you whimpering, his mind thinking that you’re awake and was ushering him to go faster, that you’re close too, that you want him to make a mess out of you.

“anything for you, f/n. fuck, i’d do anything for you,” he utters with a moan, sweat glistening on his forehead, his balls slapping oh so loudly against your thighs covered with your slick. and he pulls out, groaning as his cold hands started to jerk on his sensitive cock before he lets out his thick cum just right outside your hole.

thoma could barely keep in his moans, shivering at how he coats your pussy lips with his load that you looked so damn messy but fuck, you’re just so beautiful in his eyes.

“i love you,” he whispers but gained back his focus in seconds when he hears you humming. his eyes darted back to your face only to see that you’re still fast asleep.

thoma sighs, shaking his head, and went back down to look at your cum-stained cunt. he could just jerk again at the sight but doesn’t want to wake you sooner than he’d think he might. but, before he puts your legs back down and it let relax, he pulls out his phone from his pocket and quickly took pictures of your body, more on how he ruined you below, angling it where he can see how he had claimed you to be his.

with this sweet smile on his face, he bends down and slowly left a kiss on your forehead.

“sweet dreams, angel. i hope that we can spend more time soon.”

⠀⠀scara-meow-che © 2023 ┃ do not copy, modify, or repost ANY of my content

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

The Jaws of Those Most Beloved

Erwin Smith x reader

Notes: fix it ending where Erwin is administered the titan serum even though it’s not really mentioned, small bit of biting, praise, Erwin calls you ma’am because that’s hot af, titty sucking with a well endowed reader, on that note: nursing handjob, a sprinkle of chubby reader, dacryphilia, the actual smut doesn’t last very long because Erwin cums pretty much the moment he starts thinking about how much he loves you.

3.2k words

A small blurb for: @flametrashira

Big thanks to: @seaslugfanclub who saved my ass by being a pre-reader and editor! Thank you, Neptune!

The tiniest bit inspired by the song ‘Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage, covered by Justine’s mic’.

As nervous as I am about posting this, I strongly believe this is one of the best things I’ve ever written-

Summary: Overworking himself as per usual, Erwin finds salvation in the tender caresses from you that his body craves, yet his mind struggles to accept the notion he is worthy of such care.

——————————————————————————

Shadows danced and created monstrous silhouettes across the walls of Erwin’s study, the candle he had lit slowly burning as he poured over plans and preparations late into the night. The ink that flowed from his quill seemed to blot and merge in the low light, and Erwin found himself struggling to write despite the words flowing steadily through his tired mind. His hair, the same golden hue as church bells, slowly started to become more unkept as the minutes ticked by, cerulean eyes scanning the same sentence repeatedly in an effort to process what he had written. And yet, for all he tried, both words and thoughts continued to evade him, as faint as the smoke from the candle wick as the flames devoured it.

A faint knock, promptly followed by the creaking of his office door opening is what shook the commander out of his stupor. The image of you entering his study, a plate of warm food obviously intended for him in your hand, was all too enchanting, the haze in his mind simultaneously lifting and becoming maddeningly worse.

“Beloved…. It’s late, you should be in bed… I’ve just a few more documents to complete and I will join you.”

A soft huff left your tantalizing lips as you set the plate down on his desk over top of papers, the ink having long dried whilst he was in a daze, and ignoring the soft pout on his exhausted features. You were all too familiar with Erwin and his tactics; he would tell you he would go to bed once he was finished, stay in his office for longer, and then when you would go check on him he would be out cold. He was always plagued by nightmares at those times, the warmth of your touch gone and unable to stave away the loneliness, the dead bodies, the blood on his hands and conscious.

“And how is it that I should go to bed, yet you stay up without food in your belly as you slave away over papers? You need to eat something and then be done for the night, honey.”

“But beloved-”

“Erwin.”

Oh. You were using that tone, the one that makes shivers run down his spine and his heart leap into his throat, the one that makes him unable to do anything but surrender to you and the sensations you ignite in him, body, mind, and spirit. You knew the way that tone affected him, you always had, and you sure as hell knew it now as he blushed to the very tips of his ears. It was all too entertaining to watch the normally stoic and composed man start to crumble, to witness Erwin Smith, humanities commander, huddle into himself and start playing with his fingers as he avoided your gaze.

“Now you listen to me, Erwin love. You are going to stop working, eat your dinner, and then I am going to help you change into sleep clothes before you collapse from exhaustion. Understand?”

“Of course, yes…”

“Yes what?”

Searing heat started pooling in Erwin’s belly, his face growing hotter as he folded his calloused hands in his lap with a sheepish expression to hide his growing arousal, a small murmur leaving his lips as he replied to you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my good boy~”

You giggle softly, taking his head in your warm hands to tilt his face up to look at you as you stroke the sharp structure of his cheekbones. If you looked close enough, you almost felt you could see where the shifter scars around his blue orbs had been.

“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me though, honey. You know better, I’ve trained you better. Right?”

“Yes ma’am, you’re right, I know better.”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist as Erwin nuzzled himself against your soft middle, just below your chest. You couldn’t help the small coo that left your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair, the gold locks just barely peeking out over the rim of your breasts and your nails scratching his scalp so deliciously gentle that it made his chest ache with love.

“Is there something you’re wanting, baby? Hm?”

“Beloved, ma’am, I was… I was wondering if you would touch me… please, ma’am, I-I need it...”

Softly biting your lip, you let out a pleased hum as you force him to face you again. Big blue eyes blink guiltily up at you beneath thick brows, and from what you can see of his collar bone you know he’s already blushing down to his chest which lets you know just how needy he truly is already.

“Dinner first, but then I believe you’ve more than earned it. Do you want me to feed you?”

“Yes please, ma’am.”

Erwin always felt safest when he had your weight on him or underneath him, a fact you keep in mind as you make yourself comfortable in his lap and begin feeding him bites from the plate, your thick thighs caging his own in the mahogany chair. You could tell his cock was already starting to harden the second you sat down, the bulge in his uniform trousers only growing when you gave him a small peck on the lips, his mouth chasing yours without a second thought when you pulled away before you were able to reign him in again.

“Easy, sweetheart… I can’t exactly feed you if your mouths not free~ And the longer it takes you to eat, the longer it’ll be before I can give you some attention~”

Reaching one of your hands under the plate in your lap, you gently palm him through his pants. Your reward being a subtle roll of his hips and a small keen, his heavy thighs flexing under you as he tried to hold you closer.

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t intend to be… bad… I love you…”

It was adorable, truly. Every time Erwin did something he feared may disappoint or upset you, he would immediately follow it up with an ‘I love you’ and got incredibly distressed if you failed to say it back in a timely manner, as though fearing he would lose your love despite how many times you had assured him you would be with him for eternity.

“I love you too, Erwin. Always will.”

That pulled a smile from his full lips before he conceded, allowing you to go back to feeding him as he tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his groin. After a few quiet minutes of making sure he had food in his tummy, Erwin finally finished all of his meal, slightly hiding his face in you neck with a soft whine as he realized you could feel his heavy cock twitch in anticipation.

“Ma’am, please…”

“I know, I know, baby… you’re so pretty when you beg, you know that?”

Another brilliant flush coated the commanders features, when you called him “pretty”. It truly was the simple praise and soft gestures that did your love in, you thought to yourself as you pulled him in for a soft kiss, a stark contrast to how your hands began trailing over his chest. The way Erwin’s lips molded against yours was as seemingly as natural as breathing to the blonde man, a huff of relief leaving him through his nose causing warm air to tickle across your cheek as you began to slowly undo his uniform top. The first time you two had kissed, Erwin had adorably tried to strategize how your lips were meant to connect with his own, his brows furrowing slightly as he had studied your face to determine the best possible angle before you decided to just go for it and pull him in. The thought of that first kiss causes you to chuckle tantalizingly against his lips, the vibrations pulling a small moan from his throat as the kiss starts to heat up.

Your fingers move to play with his collar, gently peeling away the fabric of his uniform top to reveal his flushed and sensitive chest, the muscles in his pecs heaving with the effort of catching his breath after you pull away.

“So beautiful, love… I don’t know what I did to deserve such a handsome and well behaved good boy…”

A swell of hot pride and arousal at being called ‘your good boy’ bubbles in Erwin, the praise going straight to his dick as he wraps his arms tight around you.

“I’m so lucky to have you, ma’am, not the other way around… thank you for seeing me, for being here with me, for loving me. After all the things I have allowed and done for humanity, I know that I’m hardly worthy of this, of you, and yet I find myself so deeply enraptured by you, I’m unable to function without your presence.”

Now that sure as hell got your blood pumping as you leaned in and began pressing a flurry of kisses to his cheeks and nose, Erwin all but melting into a pile of lovey goo. Slowly, you began to press small and heated kisses down the side of his neck, letting your teeth snag on heated skin and relishing in the small stutters of air that escaped his parted lips.

“Ma’am, please, right there! Oh- Please!~”

You knew exactly where he was talking about. Erwin’s sweet spot was located on his upper neck, just under his ear and towards his nape, a fact that you often found yourself abusing whenever he was within reach of your teeth. Running your hand through his disheveled hair, you found yourself giving in to his whims and sinking your teeth in deep, the sharp bones creating ravishing bursts of red and purple not unlike a painter creating art on a canvas. Pitiful mewls more musical than the finest orchestra graced your ears between breathless cries of gratitude as you gave the newly formed bite a tender kiss.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, ma’am… it feels so good… thank you….”

To Erwin, being between your jaws as they tore at his flesh was nothing short of paradise, the fact that you would choose to mark him of all people with bite marks that would last for days inducing in him an intoxicating blend of obedience, love, and arousal.

Placing one last kiss to the tip of his nose, you stand up despite the quiet protests that emanated from your beloved as you coax him onto the couch in his study.

“Come here, sweetheart… let me see you, pretty boy.”

A soft huff of amusement left you as you witnessed the tall man scramble to get up, uncharacteristically panting and stumbling over himself like a three-legged dog before finally coming to a halt in front of you.

“Where and how would you prefer me, ma’am?”

“On your back over my lap. But first, go ahead and take off your bottoms for me, love.”

You can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you as you watch Erwin’s hands tremble, wrenching so hard at the fabric of his pants and boxers that most would have thought they were burning him alive. You smiled amusedly as you caught Erwin subconsciously attempting to hide his (rather large) arousal with his hands, not missing the way his eyes followed your own as they went to remove your shirt and bra, nor missing the small whimper that left his throat once your breasts had been freed from their confines. It had always been a favorite action of his to smother himself in your chest when the sun set and he was free of the days intensive labor. As comedic as it was, you legitimately had to remind him to come up for air, lest he suffocate.

“All right, sweetheart. On my lap.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

Carefully, out of fear of accidentally hurting you, Erwin moved to lay his broad back over your thighs and felt himself subconsciously nuzzle against the pudgy, soft skin of your stomach. A keen left his throat as he felt your hand gently cradle the back of his head, your other smoothing over the expanse of his chest languidly as you took in the feeling of his muscled torso. In your eyes, Erwin was nothing short of a heavenly vision laid bare for you, fingers gently tracing over full pecs and quivering abs, paying no mind to the little aborted thrusts of his hips as you knew he was trying to be good for you. He always was.

“Ma’am, please… may I…”

Ocean eyes stared up at you pleadingly as a giggle came unbidden from your mouth. Erwin was always shy when it came to making requests of a sexual nature.

“May you please what, Erwin? Be a good boy for me and use your words like I taught you.”

“M-My apologies, ma’am. May I suck your breasts? Please?”

“Of course, honey~ Such a good boy for using your words…”

Gently stroking his hair, you move his head into proper position and immediately feel him latch on to your breast, rough hands gently cupping your chest and trying to pull you impossibly closer. Erwin’s eyes flutter closed as a small whimper of relief escapes him, his tongue hungrily lapping at your nipple and his cock twitching from where it lay on his belly; oozing a steady stream of precum and his tip a beautiful shade of red. You feel him gently palm at your chest, his hands caressing the skin and marveling at the way the pudgy tissue is hardly contained by his fingers

“So handsome for me, Erwin… I’m so proud to call you mine…”

Opening his eyes to look at you, Erwin felt tears swiftly collect on his waterline and overflow en mass down his cheeks. He wanted to say that he was the lucky one, that he was so undeserving and unworthy of your love and touch after everything he had done and put others through… instead, all that comes out is a muffled sob as his sucking becomes more intense, the vibrations around your nipple pulling a small pleased hum from your throat. Moving your hand down, you softly scrape your nails through the dark honey colored hairs around his shaft and balls; relishing in the little buck of his hips and the broken moan that reverberates against your skin.

“I can tell what you’re thinking you know… and I want you to know it’s not true. You are deserving of all I give you and you’re such a good boy, no matter your opinion. I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

Another broken sob comes from your love followed by his neglected dick twitching pitifully against his muscled tummy, the appendage practically weeping for you like its owner; who searches to grab at your hand that’s resting under his head. Giving him a small smile, you adjust yourself so you can hold Erwin’s hand and keep him on your breast at the same time, relishing in the small sniffle of relief it pulls from him as his eyes flutter closed again despite the tears leaking out from behind his lids.

“Such a good boy, so, so, so good for me, Erwin…”

To emphasize your point, you allow your fingertips to gently trace up the underside of his shaft, feeling along the vein that runs from his tip to his sack. It’s pleasurable torture to Erwin, the touch so light and ticklish yet maddening stimulating that he can feel himself jump. Finally, you wrap your hand around his cock, beginning to stroke him at a languid pace and watching as his heavy thighs twitch. It’s obvious he’s trying to keep himself in line and stop his hips from humping into your hand like a puppy in heat, his fingers tightening around yours as his small cries are muffled by your breast.

“There we go… feels a lot better now, hm?~”

Opening his teary blue orbs and nodding his head, Erwin found himself lovingly looking deep into your eyes with blurry vision as his back arched in pleasure. His broad chest was positively heaving as your fingers spread rivers of his own precum against his overheated flesh to slick him up, making your movements seamless as lewd wet sounds filled the room to make his head spin in the best possible way.

Letting go of his cock and ignoring his broken whine, you run your hand lower to fondle his balls, feeling their weight in your palm as you give them a gentle squeeze.

“You’re doing so good letting me give you what you need, sweetheart. Always so pretty when you’re all fucked out…”

Chuckling softly at the frantic roll of his hips your praise got out of him, you give his balls one last squeeze before going back to stroking him, picking up the pace as Erwin’s toes curl, the pleasure making him feel as if he’s been electrocuted ten times over. More tears stream from his eyes, both of relief and of pure, ever reverent love. The kind of love that sears through his jagged edges and holds him together, the kind of love that encases his heart in a suit of gold, that keeps him going despite the odds and the despair that threatens to overtake him every day. The thought makes his cock feel like it’s about to burst, pulsing in your hand as he feels his muscles draw up and flex. As if reading his mind, your voice speaks in a soft murmur;

“Go ahead, love. I want you to cum for me.”

That was all it took. One last keen left his lips as his body spasmed, hips humping uncontrollably into the tight tunnel of your fist before waves of pleasure crashed into him so intensely he could have sworn he was drowning. Continuing to work him through his orgasm, you watch lovingly as hot, thick ropes of cum spill out of him so hard that it almost reaches his chest, the pearlescent liquid glimmering in the candlelight. Feeling his cock give a few more throbs as he drains his balls onto his tummy, you gently unwrap your hand from around him to rub soothing shapes on his thighs.

“You did so good for me tonight, Erwin… I’m so proud of you…”

Finally finding the willpower to pull his mouth away from your tits, Erwin gazes up at you with adoring eyes and murmurs lowly;

“Thank you, beloved… thank you for letting me be yours, thank you for loving me…”

Gingerly helping him sit up, you grab the towel you had brought with his dinner beforehand and start to wipe him up as he nuzzles into you, placing soft kisses against your skin as he leans into your shoulder.

It was here that he felt most safe, cradled in your arms like he was something precious. You were his sanctuary, the only place he truly felt he could be forgiven and cleansed of the blood that coated his conscious so thoroughly, and he would be damned if he didn’t submit himself to kneel at your altar as soon as the opportunity presented itself. This was where he belonged, this is where he sought solace. Here with you.

His most dearly beloved.

[sstormyskyess]

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[darkbluekies]

How do yanderes react to an affectionate reader?

Warnings: mentions of sexual intimacy, obsession, yandere, but it's honestly most fluff

— Silas: 

This man is a jealous, possessive, psychopathic little bitch and would melt if you were affectionate. Silas hasn’t been given much tenderness in his life, so in the beginning he’d be a bit uncomfortable. He thinks that you’d only want him in bed like everyone else. But when he realizes that you actually want to be close to him and hold him without anything sexual, he’d be determined. You would never be able to back out from that moment. Whatever chance you had of breaking up with him before are gone now.

“My sweet, little baby, you are so perfect. So, so perfect. You’re the best little thing in the world, aren’t you? A cute soul like you don’t belong in this harsh and unforgiving world … I’m going to protect you, make sure you’ll never be tainted.”

— Dr Kry:

This man is a big fan of his personal space. Physical affection is not something he is prepared for. He’d hold your hand and give you quick hugs before he felt himself getting nervous — a feeling he hates. He can’t let you know just how powerful you are over him. If you played your cards wisely, you’d have him wrapped around your finger like a puppy. But if you’re more of a person that wants to give him gifts and write him cute notes, he’d be more okay with it. He’d keep them all to look at when he’s feeling down. 

“Alright, one hug … but then you need to go to bed, okay, Y/N? Good girl/boy. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. You can always call for me if you need me, goodnight.” As soon as he comes out of the room, he puts his hand over his racing heart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck … fuck, Y/N, you don’t know what you do to me.”

— King Edward:

He loves having you affectionate. Edmund is an entitled little prick who’s gotten everything served on a silver platter. He expects you to worship him as well as much as he worships you. He can’t handle when people go against him, so if you’re affectionate, he won’t have much to worry about. He loves holding you, loves to hear you talk about your day and how much you’ve missed him. 

“You feel so good in my arms, my queen. I love you so, so much. Promise me you will only be mine. Promise me that you don’t show this wonderful side of you to anyone else. I’m the only one worthy enough to have your arms wrapped around me.”

— Jerry:

Just like Silas, Jerry hasn’t experienced much affection other than sexual ones. She’s uncomfortable with you being affectionate for the most part and often rejects you when you want to touch her. But there are moments where she can’t say no to you. If you’re crying (and it’s not because of a punishment that she is sure that you’ve earned) then she’ll swallow her pride, wrap you in her arms and give in. If you’d give her a gift (like a necklace or shirt etc), she’d pretend not to like it, but wear it all the time and not let anyone else touch it.

“Don’t touch me baby or I will send you to the basement. Don’t test me. Oh … you got me a gift? Is that why you’re so frantic? I thought you wanted to hug me. A necklace? Does it look like I wear necklaces?” When you say that you can take it back and change it, she’ll hit your hand. “No, don’t touch it, it’s mine now.”’

— Hedwig:

This girl would love it. Hedwig needs affection to stay alive. She’ll hold your hand 24/7, kiss every piece of skin that is visible, send you silly, little love notes and tell you how good you are, how perfect you two are together. So if you’re the same back … she’ll be over the moon.

“Look, I got you the video games you wanted! We can play together! You got me something as well? You didn’t have to feel bad for not giving me stuff … you know I love spoiling you! Okay, I can take it this time, but next time, don’t waste your money on me, okay? I love you, so, so much … I think my heart is going to explode!”

[lythea-creation]

Hidden - Hiba x fem reader

summary: "But in reality, everyone is going through something. And everyone has something to lose. And everyone is trying to keep their secret hidden. But if their secret gets out, their turn will come."

warnings: self-harm, mentions of suicide, so much angst

word count: 997

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

--------------------

I smiled when I noticed Tasneem helping Hiba out with her make-up. It was about damn time the two made up.

Hiba would have never admitted it, but it had been obvious to me that she had been upset about their fight.

As they were smiling at each other, I concentrated back on my image in the mirror, giving my best to make look my face as good as it could get.

Everyone was out of their mind today, too focused on presenting their project to pay their mind to anything else.

I was almost finished with my make-up when Hiba appeared behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders. If I had not seen her in the mirror, I would have ruined my make-up by that move.

“Hey, gorgeous”, Hiba greeted me with a grin.

“I'm so excited”, I proclaimed, flashing her a bright smile. “I can't wait to perform.”

“Come on over, you two”, Tasneem exclaimed. “We're taking some pictures together.”

She did not need to tell us twice.

I quickly finished my make-up before we both walked over to our friends.

I had missed all of us hanging out together without Sarah standing in between us. It was not like I hated Sarah or anything; just the way her presence had torn our group apart.

Nevertheless I had given my best to stay cheerful even during that time.

Preparing for our performance, taking pictures and laughing together made it all feel like nothing had changed. Deep inside I knew that it was different now, but I liked this illusion more.

I treasured every second of our performance. It was feeling empowering to finally bring it onto stage. The endorphins stayed with me even after.

Hiba and I sat down with the other girls, while Tasneem joined Nadeen. I was not sure how Hiba felt about it. Honestly I was not sure how Hiba was feeling most of the time as she did not let me see her vulnerable side.

I inched a bit closer to her. Nobody would question sharing an armrest.

My curiosity about Shams' film grew when the lights were dimmed and the music started playing. I had not expected to appear in it myself though. Well … not just me, but all my friends as well. Me as a part of the popular girls …

That was fine, until there was a clip of me staring myself down in the mirror of the restroom.

“You're so stupid”, I heard my voice echoing from the speakers. “How could you think that you were worthy of being part of their group?”

The image of myself was pulling roughly at her hair in frustration, desperation.

Out of shock I sat up straight, moving away from Hiba in the process. My eyes were glued to the screen.

“Of course you're worthless”, I insulted my own reflection as my nails were burying into my arm, scratching over it until drawing blood.

Unconsciously my hand moved over my sleeve, some scratch wounds still not healed.

“Don't even think you could ever change”, I talked myself down.

It felt like all eyes were on me. Probably because they actually were.

Panic rose inside of me as my eyes searched for Hiba, although she was literally right next to me.

For a second I forgot everything else because of Hiba's concerned expression. I had never seen her worried before. It took me completely off guard.

Before she could react or I realized what I was doing, I jumped up and hurried away, not looking back.

The panic had only settled for a second after all. Now it was back full force, the video clip reminding me of all the insecurities I was trying hard to keep down every day.

“(f/n)”, Hiba called out behind me.

But instead of waiting for her, I ran; my inner voice spurring me on.

Maybe I had misread her. Maybe she was not worried but pitiful. Maybe she wanted to break up with me now that she had noticed that I was not the person I always put on display.

Unfortunately Hiba was taller and faster than me, catching up in no time. The breathing difficulties were not exactly helping me escape either.

“(f/n), please just stop”, Hiba requested, panting. “Shit! I didn't know you were so fast.”

She turned me around to face her, not minding that we were still in a corridor. After all everyone else was busy watching the film.

“You're an idiot”, Hiba declared.

Just as expected.

“How can you talk to yourself like that? I don't get it”, she claimed.

“Huh?” I was utterly confused, my brain refusing to work properly.

“You know I'm not good with words when it comes to stuff like this”, she remarked overwhelmed. “I just … I don't want you to hurt yourself. I know I don't say it enough, but … I love you, ya know.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded and speechless.

Instead of trying to explain herself more, she pulled me into her arms.

“I'm sorry”, she whispered.

After some time I hugged her back. When I let go again, I noticed her wet cheeks and puffy eyes. My strong and stubborn girlfriend had just cried; right in front of me.

“I never told anyone, but … my mom's car accident wasn't actually an accident. She killed herself. I found her suicide note”, Hiba proposed. “Everything changed since then and I never planned to let anyone as close as you, but I just had no choice. You didn't let me. Please, just talk to me!”

Now I was the one to embrace her in a tight hug.

Honestly I had never considered that my actions toward myself might hurt someone else. Nevertheless I was not sure if I could just stop.

“I'll try, okay?”, I promised.

As an answer her hold on me grew even tighter.

--------------------

Special shoutout and thanks to @jj156 for being here all this time and making this request. Your voice matters!

Tag List: @sunwoniie

[rotschopf-thedrow]

That Dialogue Tag Game

Tagged by the wonderful @dandenbo <3

rules: pick up to 10 characters and share one of your favorite lines of dialogue you have ever written for them!

Major Daryl Coats in my opcoming Kaidan Alenko / Major Coats story "The loneliest Hour":

“I lost my sister and my best friend during the battle of the Citadel,” Coats said softly, taking all fight out of Kaidan. “My sister was one of the navigators of the SSV Madrid. My best friend was a scientist assigned to the SSV Jakarta. Trust me. I do know how you feel.”

2. Chris Shepard and Wrex discuss if the marines on board of the Normandy are paying attention.

Fredricks. Of course. He had seen him equip his omnitool earlier. Naturally, he would try to reduce Shepard’s ability to throw them around like ragdolls. “Good one, Fredricks. At least, one marine who pays attention.” Fredricks actually blushed. “Thank you, sir.” It was that little moment of distraction that Wrex needed to throw Fredricks off balance and put him on his ass. “Are you sure he’s paying attention, Shepard?” “Well, there’s always hope,” Shepard replied, lifting two crates and Williams into the air. “Pay attention!” he barked. “Look at Negulesco! She got the memo!” Everyone turned to look at Negulesco, who was taking cover behind one of the immovable targets. “They don’t learn, do they, Shepard?” “Only the hard way, Wrex,” Shepard returned softly, before he threw all four remaining marines into a barrier. “Dead. All of you.”

3. Chris Shepard and Kaidan Alenko discussion poper protocol. Side note: They have romantic history in that universe:

“Commander on deck!” Joker called when he spotted them, but he made no move to stand up. “At ease, everyone. You don’t need to spring to attention every time my ass is in sight,” he shot back, earning a few laughs and catcalls from the present crew. “Ah. While your ass is certainly attention-worthy, Commander, I don’t think saluting it would be, ah, proper protocol,” Kaidan said quietly enough for him to hear, but for his voice not to carry across the deck. Shepard stopped dead in his tracks, staring after Kaidan. “What the fuck, Alenko?” Kaidan smirked at him and went to the galley. “Careful, Commander. - I’ll have the pancakes. Biotic’s style,” he said to Miller, grinning when the mess sergeant handed him a plate with pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup. “Want some as well, Shepard?” he asked while nodding at Miller to prepare a second plate. “Why do you even ask?” Shepard retorted, sitting down at the mess table. “Because that’s proper protocol. And common curtesy.”

4. This is actually from a tiny scene I wrote for the Big Place server, and the line in question again comes from Major Coats:

“We found him, Kaidan,” Coats said without preamble, and Kaidan’s insides churned. Coats didn’t have to explain who they found. “He’s alive.” “What?” Kaidan looked the other man in the eye, looking for any kind of deceit he didn’t find because Coats was too decent a man to do that to him. “How?” “Hell if I know. Bloody bastard was even conscious and complained about the sun being too bright.” Kaidan choked on his laughter, mixed with tears, and he welcomed Coats’ one-armed embrace. “I’m going to kill him.” Coats snorted, before he pressed a soft kiss to Kaidan’s temple. “Vakarian said the same when he got the news.” “Figures. He can draw a number and get in line,” Kaidan replied.

5. EDI in The Pendulum.

“Jeff and I are in a monogamous relationship, so banging you against a shuttle isn’t a viable course of action.” Kaidan couldn’t help but stare at EDI with his mouth hanging open, and he was glad to see that Joker was just as flabbergasted. “That was a joke.”

6. Joker, a couple of paragraphs later

“You want me to make a ship-wide announcement or something?” Joker said, not even bothering to mask the sarcasm. “Kaidan is back. Everybody: come to the bridge and cram yourself into a tight space because Kaidan’s back!”

Anyone who hasn't been tagged yet? XD @westernlarch, @ficbrish, @briarch, @mallaidhsomo, @clericofshadows, @monowires

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 11th (Day 7): Prompt- Profane / Sword

Day 7: Sword- Besharat finds the secret of something long lost to her people, and with it, a link to her culture that she sometimes feels she is losing by being the Dragonborn. A little off-canon but very much part of my personal story for her. For her, this is bigger than being the Dragonborn, because first and foremost, she is Yokudan. Prompts by @tes-summer-fest   

Redguard LDB x Farkas

Warnings- None

Wordcount- ~1500

(I posted a picture of a mod that gave me the Book of Circles. This is what you make with it. Description in alt text)

***

I stared at the ancient page in front of me, dropping my quill onto the paper I’d brought to take notes. My hand shook as I brought it up to cover my mouth. I wanted to cry. I had jokingly grumbled to anyone who would listen about not actually being the first Redguard Harbinger of the Companions, but now I was infinitely grateful I wasn’t.

My predecessor had left me a gift more precious than gold, gems, or any kind treasure that could be had. He’d left a memoir, chronicling his leaving Hammerfell, his arrival at Jorrvaskr posing as a servant, to his time as a Shield-Brother, and then to Harbinger in his later years. But within those pages, I had just learned a life-altering secret.

He was a blademaster, but not just because he studied Hunding as I did. No, Cirroc the Lofty had been Ansei! And more than that, he’d written how to create a shehai, lamenting that the art was becoming lost even in his time!

I wrote down everything he had written on the subject, trying to keep my hand steady. I copied it verbatim, lest I miss something by taking a shortcut. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst from my chest. Could I use his writings to do this for myself? I could hardly dare hope that such a thing were possible, so far removed from the First Era when Cirroc had written this down.

There was only one way to find out.

***

Three days later I stood in the practice yard, ready to try. I’d studied Cirroc’s words, read Hunding, and meditated in the way of my people. I’d prepared as thoroughly as possible for this moment, ritually cleansing myself and giving offerings to my gods two hours ago in the early dawn. I had only a statue of Morwha here in Whiterun, but I appealed not only to her, but to all our gods; Leki, Tall Papa, Onsi, Tava, Diagna, The HoonDing, our ancestors, and the rest. Anyone who could help me achieve this feat, I prayed for their help. Never had I dreamed I would ever actually attempt this. Had these arts not been lost since the Second Age? But then again, had dragons not been as well? Perhaps nothing was truly lost forever?   

The yard was empty at this hour, minus me and Farkas, who stood beside me with a frown deepening the crease between his brows. I knew he wasn’t quite sure what I was doing and that my explanations over the last few days had probably sounded like mad rambling. But he also wasn’t going to let me try some sort of new and powerful magic on my own. I knew he’d been talking to Orielle about what he could do if something went wrong and I was fairly certain the scroll sticking out of his pocket was a dispel magicka ward. But I knew he’d only use it if he absolutely thought he had to. He was still a bit wary of magicka, but he trusted me to know what I was doing.

But that thought couldn’t dispel the excitement bubbling up inside me. I tried to keep it in check; after all, this might not work. In fact, it was more than likely that it wouldn’t. But just the idea… I pushed it out of my mind. I needed concentration now, to focus on my lessons.

“I’m going to try it.” I said softly, taking a deep breath. “Leki show me how, as you did my ancestors. May The HoonDing make way for this art, long lost and now found. Ancestors, if I am worthy to walk beside you on this path, let me be successful. Mother Morwha, guide me as you always do. Tell Tall Papa that Besharat do Bergama comes to test her skill as a warrior of Yokuda!”

I reached deep into myself, into the core of my being. Into the deep and hidden parts that most people would never think to access. And I could feel something. I reached for it, my hand curling around it as I pulled it free. From deep within, white light poured out. I was holding it, I could feel it swirling around me. And then it coalesced into a solid grip in my hands, a long curved blade rising up before me. It pulsed with my life force, my soul; the two of us attuned to one another in a way no two other beings had been in millennia. At that moment I was no longer one being, part of me was now this sword made of light.

I swung it, gently at first but then in a practice routine I used every day. And it was absolutely perfect in every way; no better weapon could be made by human, mer, or beastfolk hands. Not to compare to this. Even my beloved Skyforge steel sword, made to my specifications by Eorlund himself, couldn't compare to this actual extension of my being.   

“I did it. By all the gods and ancestors… I really did it. A shehai…” Everything blurred as tears streamed down my face, and I began to laugh and cry at the same time. “I made a shehai…”

I looked over at Farkas, whose eyes were wide enough to see the whites all the way around. He took this all in, whispering, “I’ve never seen anything like that. Not even those folks who use bound weapons. It’s not like that.”

“It’s not. This isn’t calling a blade from elsewhere to use. This is creating it from within, from yourself. It’s a piece of me. No one’s done this for thousands of years. There’s been no Ansei since the Second Era. But… but I could be one… a Sword Singer…”

The spell wavered, and the shehai dissipated back into me. But I still smiled. I hadn’t expected to hold the spell even that long on the first try. No matter what, this had been incredibly, wildly successful.

“If I did it once, I can do it again!” I laughed, throwing my arms around Farkas. But he didn’t hug me in return, and as I stepped back I saw a shadow in his eyes. I reached up to take hold of his face. “What’s wrong, my heart?”

“I’m glad it worked. But making this sword from yourself, from your soul, it’s not gonna hurt you, is it? Not gonna affect you somehow?”

“Not from what I’ve read. It’s like magicka, but it’s not. When it disappeared there it just went back into me. Long ago, the wielders of this ability were powerful beyond measure, they could do things far beyond regular mortals. It’s more like… it’s more like the thu’um, it’s part of you and you just have to learn how to use it properly. And like the thu’um, I’m sure you could hurt yourself if you were reckless, but I have trained my whole life and I will keep training to use this properly.”

“Okay. That makes it make a lot more sense. I just worry sometimes, love.” He kissed my forehead.

“I know. And I don’t like to worry you. But this is huge! For me, for my people…” My shoulders dropped a little. “All this Dragonborn stuff… I feel like an outsider to it. It’s not mine. It’s the history, the stories, the gods of others. I’ve felt a bit like I’m being pulled away from my self, from who I am. But this is mine, it’s in my blood and bones. I feel it inside and it’s right. It makes me feel like maybe I haven’t totally lost my Redguard self to the whims of a dragon god who probably should’ve picked a Nord instead.”

Farkas hugged me tightly. “There’s no one else that can do what you do, Eshi. Maybe that’s why he picked you. But I… I am glad you’ve got this if it helps you feel more like yourself. It was really impressive.” He admitted. “It’d be quite the thing in battle, I think.”

“I think so too! I can’t wait to test it out! And thank you, for understanding. Why don’t we go get some breakfast? Everyone will be getting up soon and I promised Orielle I’d let her know how things went. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve been fasting for this and I’m hungry.”

He slipped an arm around my waist. “Let’s go then, love. I think Tilma said the kitchen were making apple dumplings this morning. We can get some while they’re nice and hot.”

We walked back into the hall, and I felt like I was walking on air. No matter what destiny or fate or the gods threw at me, I was still Yokudan! My blood and my bones and my soul were still of Hammerfell, and of our lost home beyond the sea. And no matter where I went or what I did, they always would be.    

[anythingforourmoonysstuff]

Mayaneeeee! Hi, hello, hi, how are you?

So long since the last time I screamed around here. If I remember correctly you asked about my tag (hey, a tag ❤️!.. I'm still worthy of a tag 🤔?)?.. I call myself Luna so any version of that (Lu, Luna... someone used to use Lupina hahaha) is fine by me.

So, last time I was screaming about your participation in Into the fic of it... it took me so long to hear it, I'm sorry. I was attacked by work and the preparations of an international trip. I heard it little by little I pieces but hey, I TOOK NOTES 😂😂, so here are my notes (a summary actually hahaha).

1. Don't know exactly why but I wrote to recommend you my favorite teenage book but hey, past-me probably had a good idea but I don't remember anymore. It's called Ilse Janda, 14 oder Die Ilse ist weg (in Spanish is Por favor vuelve a casa -Please come back home-, don't know how it is in English). Perhaps I had this thought when you were talking about kids books... because this is a beautiful book for a teenager, written for teenagers (and from their perspective, which is not easy), with complex and painful topics but treated having said kids in mind. I love it so much, even now.

2. I think that JK wrote 3 books for children (first 3) and then she just wrote what she wanted, period. My mom has a fun theory: She read somewhere that JK wrote HP for his son and then she develops this theory in which JK started writing with love for his young child and then he grew and then she wrote the rest of the series in revenge lmao. According to her, JK's son was probably a teenage nightmare and that's why she started killing beloved characters 😂

3. That brings me to: YES YES I GET SO MAD EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT THE UNNECESSARY DEATHS. Why kill Colin?! And why Hedwing (I actually stoped reading the book there and only took it again months later)?!

4. Talking about JK wonderful (/derogatory) writing: To this day I don't understand how she totally took all the responsibility from the adult characters. I mean, Dumbledore formed not one...BUT TWO armies with child soldiers. And don't let me start talking about Snape and Dumbledore behavior with Draco in yea (he was sixteeeeeen). That's something I really like about fanfics: how they somehow questioned how those characters behave.

Aaaaaaand I'm going to leave it here for now because it's getting toooooo long (we're half way in my notes and in the podcast you haven't started talking about the main topic, oh god 😂).

Have a nice day! Sorry this took me so long! I really enjoyed hearing you lot 🤗

Hey, hi, hello!!!!! I have no idea why I’m just seeing this but anyway, here we are.

I’m doing ok uni is a bit of a struggle but I’m enjoying the modules so far :) how have you been??? And are you kidding me?? Of course you still get a tag <3

Ahhh I’m so glad you enjoyed the episode! I had so much fun taking part and met some incredible people thanks to it so it makes me so happy that it inspired some thoughts.

1. That book sounds so good I will definitely be checking it out! Thanks for the recommendation

2. Bahahahah your moms theory had me laughing so loud my friend came in from the other room to ask what was going on. But yeah, I think she definitely did not put any thought into the fact that not only the original kids who were reading it would read it. Like, I think her idea was that the characters and themes would grow up with the kids reading it which is a lovely idea in theory but that’s just not how it works. As soon as media is out there, it’s there for anyone to read and with it being a children’s book these themes needed to be handled with so much more care. I mean, this also applies to adult content but especially with kids who are extremely impressionable .

3. Yeah there were so many unnecessary deaths and I will also stand by the fact that having Sirius stay alive (and Remus for that matter) would have made for a much better and more in depth story. And I don’t just say that because I love them. There was just so much potential for growth that was thrown away

4. Oh completely she wrote obviously morally gray characters as good which is so problematic

Ahhh this was so fun! If you want I’d love to see more of your thoughts on it (you mentioned there were more notes) and once again I’m sorry I only now saw this . Have a great day!

[cophene]

g. giovanna || ✦.⁺ suspend.

previous chapter || trish’s chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : a college student tries getting the attention of some of the most admired and attractive people on campus, only to get caught up with stands and vigilante groups in the process. notes : modern au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn't follow canon plot word count : 2.3k+

═ ☆. GIORNO REPLIED TO Y/N'S request for Stand assistance by swinging by with his Maserati. (Y/n) spent the twenty-minute drive to Giorno's house by catching him up on what had happened with Scolippi and trying not to gawk too much at his clothes. It shouldn't have been so weird seeing Giorno in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but it was.

"Leone Abbacchio. I feel like I should know that name, but I don't. He said he was a Stand user?"

"If we're taking his word for it."

"Strange, I don't think he goes to Sapiena; otherwise, I would've heard about him. It didn't occur to me that there might be someone else investigating the events going on."

"Mista said he might be a cop."

"I doubt it. But he must have been at this for a while if he knew about Scolippi and his girlfriend. It's so weird that he saw you and Mista. It makes me wonder if he knows someone in our group already."

"But why did he ask to work with us? He seemed like he was working alone."

"That's true. If I were you, I'd definitely talk to him. He seems like he might know more about this than we do. He could be an ally in the long run."

Giorno happened to live in an upper-class gated community near Naples' downtown. He greeted the gatekeeper and pulled into one of the many enormous houses lining the neighbourhood. With its gorgeous architecture and perfect front drive, (y/n) wouldn't have been surprised to see Giorno's house on a magazine cover.

"Welcome back, Signor Giovanna." A sharply dressed man opened the front door for (y/n) and Giorno as they entered. Of course, Giorno's family had a butler. What else had (y/n) been expecting?

Giorno tossed his keys to the butler, who caught them deftly. "Grazie, Vanilla. I'd like to introduce my friend, (y/n) (l/n). I'm just helping them out with a few things. And, (y/n), this is our butler, Vanilla Ice."

Vanilla Ice inclined his head. "It's lovely to meet you. Is there anything I can have prepared for the two of you? The sandwiches are in the living room as you requested."

Giorno was already moving farther into the house. "We'll be fine, grazie."

(Y/n) smiled at the butler before following after Giorno. It was so off-putting seeing him in his house. He'd dropped the elegant, collected façade he wore around Sapiena. He seemed like an actual eighteen-year-old and (y/n) didn't know how to feel about that.

After passing a few catalogue-worthy rooms, they entered the living room (the personal one, Giorno informed (y/n)), and they were glad to see it was much homier. A faded green furniture set sat around a coffee table, various knickknacks arranged on the opposite wall. There was a leather photo album sitting open on the coffee table beside a plate of sandwiches. Giorno sat down on the loveseat and canted his head for (y/n) to join him.

"My mom wanted a picture from this album. I think she needs it for an interview she's giving. Of course, she's too busy to come back to Naples to get it, so she wanted me to mail it over." Giorno rolled his eyes, but he didn't seem to mind that much. He showed (y/n) the picture his mother wanted—a candid shot of a stunning brunette and a golden-haired man (y/n) recognized as Chief Prosecutor Brando. Giorno didn't look exactly like his father, but there was something in the cunning slant of their eyes and confident upturned chin that was the same.

"Your mother is gorgeous," (y/n) said.

"I rarely see her," Giorno replied. "Or my father, for that matter." His tone was flippant, but (y/n) thought they heard an undercurrent of sadness. He flipped to a different picture in the album. "Twenty euros if you guess who this is."

(Y/n) studied the severe-looking child in the picture. He wore a trench coat and an unflattering bowl cut. His green eyes looked too big on his pale face.

"Can you not tell?" Giorno sounded amused.

"Is this your cousin?"

Giorno grinned and slipped the picture out of the album. He flipped it over so (y/n) could read the writing at the back.

Giorno, age 7

"No," (y/n) said, taking the picture and squinting at it. "That is not you."

"Terrible, isn't it? I had that unfortunate haircut until sophomore year in senior high. Then I realized how much better I look blond and had to grow it out."

(Y/n) laughed. "You look like a very happy trooper."

"It was hard having a mom that was never home and a dad who spent twenty hours at work every day. It was lonely, and I was already quiet, so I just retreated. Trish said I was a pain to be around as a kid." Giorno's tone was rueful. (Y/n) said nothing, having a hard time seeing Giorno as anything but the charming, confident college freshman he was now.

"If I hadn't met Trish and Fugo, I'd probably still be the same lonely, reserved kid." There was the slightest pause before Giorno said Fugo's name. Giorno looked at a picture at the bottom of the page where a tiny Fugo and Giorno attempted to push Trish on a swing.

Now. Bring up the talk now.

"But you didn't come here to look at my pictures," Giorno said, closing the picture album. He held the sandwich platter in front of (y/n) until they took one, then took one for himself.

"You're here for Stand advice. Tell me how it's coming along so far."

Guess I'll have to wait, then.

"I can summon it, but I don't have any fine control over it. It only seems to act out when I'm feeling stressed or overwhelmed."

"Instinct," Giorno said, looking thoughtful. "It's at times like that that your instinct overpowers your conscious thought. If anything, that just means you aren't putting enough conviction behind whatever you want your Stand to do."

(Y/n) bit into their sandwich to avoid saying anything. They were trying. Their Stand just didn't feel like it was part of them.

"Can I see your Stand?" Giorno asked.

Calling on their Stand was noticeably easier this time around. Giorno's mouth opened a little as he watched (y/n)'s shimmery lengths of fabric drape themselves around the living room. He hesitantly took a piece that hovered over his shoulder between his fingers.

"It looks fragile, but it's surprisingly strong," Giorno said, teasing the fabric. "Bruno also told me about how it's capable of cutting things up."

He slid his finger along the edge of the fabric, and a thin line of blood welled up.

"Is there an explanation for how it was able to sense Risotto? And Rolling Stones, now that I think about it."

Giorno let the strip of fabric drift back into the air. "I'd say it's life energy. Look at the way it hovers closer to the two of us than to everything else." A light entered his eye. "Hold on. I want to try something."

He got up from his seat, taking off one of the ladybug earrings he had on and closing it in his fist. (Y/n) frowned when their Stand started clustering around it.

"Impressive," Giorno said. "It's able to pick up on the life energy from Gold Experience." Giorno opened his palm, and a tiny ladybug flew out.

"Gold Experience?"

A shining yellow-gold humanoid stepped out from behind Giorno. It was elegant and slender, and it drew (y/n)'s eye to the ladybugs arranged over its body. With its piercing gaze, Giorno's Stand honestly looked a little scary. A fitting representation for him, (y/n) realized.

"Gold Experience can infuse objects with life energy. It allows me to transform that object into a living organism." Giorno walked a slow circle around his Stand. "If you have trouble controlling your Stand, that just means you need more confidence in yourself. You have to believe it will do what you want."

"Easier said than done."

Giorno looked around the living room, searching for something. His eyes landed on his book bag, and he took out a folder from it.

"I want you to try something. I'm going to turn these pieces of paper into something alive. Since your Stand is attracted to life energy, it shouldn't be hard for you to catch them. All you have to do is grab onto them once your Stand gets close."

"I'm sorry to say this, but that's a stupid idea."

"Isn't it? But all of this is a work in progress. It'll be fun."

Gold Experience touched the stack of papers Giorno held, and a few moments later, they were lifting into the air as tiny white butterflies. Just like Giorno had said, strips of (y/n)'s Stand followed after the butterflies, floating softly near them.

"Close your eyes," Giorno said, gently brushing a hand against (y/n)'s eyelids. "Your Stand can sense those butterflies. Just catch them."

(Y/n) closed their eyes. They grew aware of the space their Stand took up, the way they could feel it drifting in the air. As they concentrated, they realized the pinpricks of heat they felt was their Stand brushing against the butterflies. (Y/n) thought about surrounding the butterflies and felt their Stand shifting in the air, responding to them.

"Don't look yet," Giorno said when (y/n) was about to open their eyes. He guided them up from the loveseat and forward a few steps.

"Look what you did."

(Y/n)'s Stand had formed an elaborate web around the living room. Tiny strands of it had broken off and wrapped around the butterflies' bodies, leaving their wings free. They flew around, white kites in the air.

"Have you given your Stand a name?"

"That's been the last thing on my mind." (Y/n) was still blinking at their Stand, glimmering where it caught the light. They'd done it. Catching the butterflies had been less about doing and more about feeling. They really were like a spider, creating their own glittery web.

"Well, we can't have that." Giorno playfully put his arm through a gap in (y/n)'s web and tossed the strands about. They stayed suspended in the air, drifting gracefully. "Why don't you try thinking of one?"

"I think Mista calling it Sparkly Death Cloth had a nice ring to it."

Giorno gave (y/n) a crooked smile. "You can do better than that."

A piece of glimmery fabric settled across (y/n)'s shoulders like a shawl. A name tickled at their mind, and they whispered it, trying it out.

"What was that?"

"White Satin," (y/n) said. As they did, the strands of their Stand gave an affirmative ripple.

"I like it," Giorno said. His white butterflies chose that moment to turn back into pieces of paper. They fell to the ground and (y/n) helped Giorno pick them back up. (Y/n)'s Stand had dissipated by the time they were cleared away.

All of a sudden, (y/n) knew they were just going to tell Giorno about Fugo straight up rather than whatever else they'd planned. They didn't know why. Something seemed different between the two of them now. Maybe it didn't feel right when Giorno had been so willing to help them.

"Giorno, controlling my Stand wasn't the only reason I wanted to come over."

Giorno looked at (y/n), a question in his eyes.

"Fugo told me about what happened when you first flicked on the lighter. He's terrified of his Stand and holds it against you guys for forcing it on him. He said you don't care about what happens to people who face Black Sabbath."

If Giorno was surprised (y/n) had brought up Fugo, he didn't show it.

"Fugo, huh? It's been such a long time since I spoke to him. Looking back on it, the lighter was one of the few times he ever spoke up about his thoughts."

"I think that if you told him what it is you and Trish are doing, there's a chance he'd join you guys. You could fix your friendship."

"I don't know if there's anything left to fix."

"Well, then you won't lose anything by trying."

Giorno replaced the papers in his bookbag and idly took another sandwich.

"I miss when the three of us were still friends. We shouldn't have talked over him so much."

"So talk to him. I can give you his number. He's angry, but I think he wants to talk to you too. If it's going according to plan, Narancia should've convinced Trish to do the same."

"Look at you," Giorno said, with the hint of a smile. "Going out of your way to fix people's problems."

"It's the least I can do."

Giorno took a bite from his sandwich. It was quiet as (y/n) gave him time to think.

"Give me his number," he said finally. "I've wanted to talk to him for a while."

During the ride back to Sapiena, (y/n) learned that Giorno was a sucker for chocolate and pudding. They'd been expecting him to say something pretentious like caviar or Turkish dates. These little details about him made him seem closer, less like a rich person (y/n) barely knew.

"Have you ever tried octopus salad?"

"No."

"I'll take you some time. I need at least one other person to agree about how good it is. Mista makes the weirdest faces whenever I order it."

(Y/n) decided to up and say what they'd been thinking. "Hey, Giorno?"

"Mhm?"

"I like you better when you're like this. When you don't act all haughty and above everyone."

(Y/n) thought Giorno would go stormy and silent. Instead, he said, "I know what you mean. It's hard to act like myself when everyone has this idea of me in their heads. It gets tiring."

Giorno dropped (y/n) off in the parking lot.

"Have a nice afternoon, (y/n). We'll meet up again, right?"

"You'll have to tell me."

Giorno handed her a plastic container. "Vanilla Ice packaged the sandwiches for you."

"Grazie. Get home safe."

When (y/n) opened the container back in their dorm, they were startled to find the container wasn't full of sandwiches.

Small paper roses filled the container, blooming into real flowers at (y/n)'s touch.

previous chapter || trish’s chapter || next chapter || table of contents

[orcelito]

overwhelming exhaustion until im on the verge of despair 

manager meeting in 40 mins and i still have to do my notes

[shourin]

madly in ̵l̷ov̸?̶e¿ voicelines

◇ ✨live✨ version (click to view)

◇ script version (under the cut)

(+bonus! heizou ー it's too bad i can't find his video :c ) same notes as this post for the live voicelines

| About [name]

Ah... Yes. Aren't they endearing?

Hm? I look... upset? My apologies. Please don't worry, as long as you don't harbor any... foul intent towards them, my blade will remain sheathed. You must have known by this point that I don't care for needless confrontations.

| Your Relationship

The protector and the protected would be the best description, I suppose. I try to be the best shelter that I could ever become for the tired dove that they are. A safe space to return to, someone to call home.

... Or at least, this is what I wish to become. My sweet [name] tells me that my protection suffocates them sometimes, but in this ruthless world where the gods will not hesitate to strike their subjects down, can you truly fault someone's desire to protect what is most important to them?

| Competitors

If there is anything I've learned from my life of wandering, it's that obstacles will always present themselves in one's journey. And to move forward, we must eradicate them, lest they ambush us in the future. Don't you agree?

| Would you ever let go?

I'm sure you, who have experienced losses in your journeys, will be able to relate to me when I say that... At a certain point, one will slowly become accustomed to separation and rejections. But do you know what lies past the grief and the numbness when you think it couldn't possibly get worse?

*chuckles* I'm afraid... I have gotten past that point.

| About [name]

Mm? Yes, what about my darling [name]?

Tread carefully now, comrade~ *chuckle*

| Your Relationship

Utterly head over heels, madly invested in each other, completely in love, and is in a loving relationship! Ahaha, don't give me that look! You were the one who asked!

Alright, alright, since you asked nicely... [name] has been with me for as long as I remember, actually. We were neighbors, and we kept in touch even after I joined the Fatui. They stuck by me through thick and thin, always smiling when they greeted me back at the village, despite knowing what I do for a living...

Tell me, how can one not fall in love with someone like that? Such a pure, untainted soul... Being around them feels like I've committed an unforgivable sin in itself, but alas, I've been utterly smitten and I can't exactly remember how to get out of this maze called love anymore. So I guess I'm staying for good, haha!

| Competitors

Ah, of course, there were many, many insects swarming around such beauty... The only irritating thing about it is that none of them - not even a single one - was a fun hunt! Can you believe it?? I've probably gone through a hundred of them by this point, but none makes a worthy opponent! *sigh* Life's hard when you're just too strong...

*grin* Speaking of which, how about it, Traveler? If you're free, why don't we do some sparring~?

| Would you ever let go?

Ahahaha! Comrade, you sure like to joke around...

Perhaps. If you can pry them off my dead body.

| About [name]

[name]? Yes, of course I know them. What do you think about them, Traveler?

Oh? My smile looks scary? I'm not sure what you mean by that, this is my usual smile. *chuckles* Why, have you done something that will potentially incur my wrath? Something like... taking a romantic interest towards my dear fiancé, perhaps?

That's not the case? Well, then, I believe there's nothing you should worry about!

| Your Relationship

[name] has stayed with me throughout my darkest hours. They... gave me much-needed comfort, when I had to take the mantle of the head of the clan. Though it is something I have prepared for my whole life, it was a rather sudden change, and the transition was abrupt. Coupled with the fact that there was no room for mistakes... Yes, I could never thank them enough.

I believe we've developed a deep bond because of it all. So, it's only natural that I repay them by providing them with the best luxuries and the safest shelter to call home. And as the spouse of the head of the Kamisato clan, they won't ever lack anything!

| Competitors

-and make sure to do it without any trace, as usual. You are dismissed.

... Hm? Oh, Traveler. To what do I owe the pleasure?

| Would you ever let go?

My, I'm afraid I'll need context on this one. If this is about my position as the head of my household clan, I would rather not, but I believe Ayaka will become a fine head in my place. If you're talking about the Shuumatsuban, it will undoubtedly cause a few issues. Still, I should manage to hire some elite private mercenaries in their stead, though it would not be preferable.

And if this is concerning [name], then the answer is rather simple:

No.

| About [name]

*smiles* [name] is my greatest treasure. I'm quite sure you've noticed the fondness I hold towards them. I can talk about them all day.

They are a kind one, for starters. Always wishing and striving to please everyone, sometimes to the point that they forgot about themselves. No matter in whichever lives, no matter their position... This aspect of them never changed. It worries me so. Yet, forcibly stripping this away from them would mean that I am rejecting who they are as a person. And that is not what I wish to do.

I'd like to think that I'm protecting them, by making sure that no one tries to take advantage of their kind nature. After all, is it not the job of a lover to make sure their beloved is safe and sound?

| Your Relationship

Would you believe me when I say that I have been in love with them for thousands of years? *chuckles* 

Be it Rex Lapis, Morax, or Zhongli... They have a firm hold of my heart. So it's only fair that I do so in return, don't you think?

| Competitors

As much as I would find it liberating to subdue those who do not deserve their attention, let alone be allowed to lay sight on them... I cannot.

We would not want the seas of Liyue Harbor to turn red from all the blood. It would be unhygienic.

| Would you ever let go?

..... All I wish for is for [name] to be safe.

And the safest place in all Teyvat is by my side.

| About [name]

Oh, did you meet [name]? I suppose you've been frequenting the Kamisato residence lately... What did you think about them?

Hmm, I see, I see! The young miss introduced the two of you! ... .That's fine then.

Aren't they really nice? Did they talk about me? I have some time to spare, so we can sit down for some tea! Why don't you tell me all about it over some tea time snacks?

| Your Relationship

"The perfect couple"? R-Really? Do people really say that? Aw, geez, that's kinda embarrassing, but it makes me happy that people recognize how well we get along with each other, haha!

[name] could be a little stubborn sometimes, but they're just the sweetest! *giggle* Oh, and don't worry, when we get married one day, I'll be sure to invite you as one of the guests!

| Competitors

*strained laugh* Uhm, well, I can't deny that there are a lot of people around us, and with me being busy tending to the Kamisato siblings' needs, there isn't enough time for me to regularly check on them...

B-But, the young master has been really kind, so I really have nothing to worry about! Huh? What kind of help did he provide? Well, there are numerous things, really. For example... He's provided me with an adequate living section in the Kamisato residence, since I'm the young miss' retainer, and he allowed [name] to reside there! Just normal things, you know? Man, I sure am glad I work for a really accommodating boss!

| Would you ever let go?

You know, my mom used to say, if you truly love someone, you should always keep them close to your heart... And I agree wholeheartedly with her! Plus, [name] enjoys my company very much, why would I 'let them go'?

| About [name]

My adorable significant other! What's this, are you investigating them for some reason, Traveler? I assure you, their background is completely clean, with no dirt in sight! I made sure of it, afterall~

Eh? What does that mean? Haha, who knows~

| Your Relationship

It's like a game of cat and mouse, most of the time. I find it mentally stimulating! They always love to test my intelligence by going into hiding somewhere, waiting for me to catch them! Isn't that cute? It's thrilling and keeps me on my toes, that's for sure! They're always so creative about it, too...

I do get worried from time to time, though. I mean, they might get hurt out there while they look for a hiding place... So if you ever spot them out there in any dangerous areas - which they're prone to wander off to - let me know straight away, okay? It might sound like I'm cheating by asking this from a lot of people, but I'd rather have [name] safe and my detective pride bruised rather than have them get hurt, or worse...

| Competitors

Now, see, to make a fair competition, the two candidates must have an equal footing with each other. However, I have yet to see someone who is as interested in [name] as I am, who is just as smart, good-looking, attentive, and capable as me - and to top it all off, have the ability and courage to do whatever it takes to ensure their safety and comfort! So there isn't really any competition going on here, is there?

| Would you ever let go?

Haha, is that a serious question?

Look here partner - a detective worth their salt will chase its target until the end of the world. Now, I'm not saying [name] is a criminal or anything like that, but all I'm saying is...

... I'm not the type who would let my prey get away, you see.

And it's not like I have a shortage of handcuffs to use, haha!

[beneathashadytree]

hello! could i have HCs of mista and a fem reader who adores the sex pistols? she likes to feed them, play with them, and maybe even knits them little hats that look like mista’s because she loves them. but she makes a mistake when she tells them she has a crush on their stand user, because they immediately snitch on her to mista (😭)

SNITCHES GET… GIFTS? - GUIDO MISTA X READER

Warnings : this is pretty cheesy and not proofread, reader identifies as female!

Genre : tooth-rotting fluff <3

Word count : 1.0K words (oops)

Additional notes : Thank you so much for requesting! I thought long and hard how to get to this, and I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out. I have a soft spot for the entire Bucci gang and their stands, as you could probably see🫣 Hope you enjoy reading this, anon!💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp.

Masterlist

It seemed like a sort of unspoken rule that every stand user that somehow found their way into the Italian mafi ended up on either Bucciarati’s squadra or Risotto’s squadra

It was to ensure both confidentiality and cohesion of the group working as one unit, which could only be achieved when all of the squadra consisted of stand users

With her luck, she winded up on Bucciarati’s turf, her stand another weapon to add to their arsenal

Mista was rather nonchalant about the new addition; he never really minded getting to know a new person as long as they proved themselves to be useful and trust-worthy

He does his own thing anyways and always pulls up in any pinch they find themselves in, regardless of how the others react to their missions

But for some reason, he found himself actually quite enjoying her company even when they’re not doing anything in particular

The same—and more, actually—could be said about her; she soon realized that she was almost making up excuses just to be in the sharpshooter’s presence, and to learn more about him whenever they sat together

His likes, his dislikes, his quaint tetraphobia, his unique sense of humor and wit, his sharp intelligence; everything about him was something she wanted to discover bit by bit

And with coming to know him so personally, she of course had many interactions with his stand, the Sex Pistols, and slowly grew increasingly fond of them

They truly were like a bunch of rowdy kids each with a vastly different personality from the other, and it was hard not to like them

Hardworking as they were, they were almost always hungry and in need of attention and affection, things she was more than willing to provide whenever she was available and in the vicinity

More often than not, the six little guys were found trailing after her, happy smiles on their faces as they nibbled on pastrami and cheese mini sandwiches she’d prepared for them, cheeks stuffed and delighted smiles on their tiny faces

Even the scruffy Number 5 couldn’t help but feel happy whenever she made use of her time off to play with them, despite Mista’s protests that she didn’t have to

Her insistence that she actually wanted to spend time with them didn’t go unnoticed, flustering both the stand and their user

Come Christmas, already more than a few months had passed since she first started having feelings for Mista

Feelings she clearly was oblivious to them being reciprocated

Considering herself an almost-caretaker for the Sex Pistols whenever Mista himself wasn’t fussing over them, she decided to make them a gift herself

Seeing how much they absolutely adored the gunslinger, she decided to knit them tiny hats similar to the one he wore all the time

As for Mista, she decided to make him a scarf that perfectly matched his usual outfit, decked in his favorite red and blue, while she secretly made herself matching gloves

She already readied herself to excuse it as her simply liking the design if anyone questioned her about it

Thankfully things went relatively smoothly the entire time she spent knitting the set, but that ignorant bliss around her didn’t last long

Just a couple of minutes in showing the Sex Pistols her gifts for them, Number 3 found himself tripping over the box she’d thought she’d so cleverly hidden under her bed

After a few flustered stammers, a furious blush to the tips of her ears, and pathetic lies that not even a two year old would believe, she slumped over in defeat and admitted to the fact that she’d knit matching gloves and scarf for her and Mista

Ever perceptive, they shared a glance before Number 1 bluntly asked her if she had a crush on their favorite guy, to which her flaring blush only affirmed

No words were needed, the Pistols sharing mischievous smiles that spelled something foreboding to her

She begged them not to tell Mista, her earnest and horrified expression causing them to feel a little sorry for her, silently deciding to stay quiet… for the time being

As soon as they spotted her handing him his gift, though, they were quick to cheekily grin up at him

The man himself was stunned by the sweet gift, expressing his gratitude as best as he could and hugging her gently

Honestly, the smile and slight flush on his face should’ve been a clear indicator that he had it bad for her as well, and that her thoughftul handmade gift had made him happier than he could ever admit

“She knitted matching gloves for her too, because she likes you, Mista!”

Mista’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he stood there stunned by the words Number 2 had blurted out, earning a nudge from an alarmed Number 6

They all stood with baited breath, watching as a mix of horror and embarrassment made its way on the woman’s face, whereas Mista’s face turned every single color under the sun as he slowly processed the words he’d just heard

His loud and boisterous laugh of disbelief had them a little confused, and her face began to fall, before he quickly threw his arms around her, bringing her in for a tighter embrace than before

The expression on his face could only be described as blissful, and her scrunched up countenance melted into a relieved one

“You’re… alright with that?” she hesistantly asked him, only to have Mista squeeze her waist, open affection in his eyes as he smiled at her

“About damn time you noticed I like you too, geez!”

“Not like you’d noticed I had feelings for you, either…” she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes despite the blush on her cheeks that betrayed her

They were only interrupted when Number 7 pointed out, “Hey look, mistletoe!”

Before she could glance up in the direction he was glancing at, Mista took the chance to swoop in and softly kiss her

Too enamored by the all-consuming kiss, she was too busy to notice that there wasn’t anything above their heads, and that the Sex Pistols had snuck out, giggles remaining in their wake

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling @blondeboyfriend

[sugamamacustard]

Feed Me

Pairing: Alpha! Keiji Akaashi X Omega! Reader, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Rintaro Suna x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: Ooooo what about when Alphas 🐘 ( maybe akaashi, ushijima, rin and kuroo) find out that their omega has not been eating enough like (their only eating little things like granola bars or fruit) so their upset that they had to find out through someone else and they scold them for that but then their told that they have gain some weight and that gets them even more upset because they think their perfect etc.

Summary: Some times, people do things because it’s what they think is best. You don’t tell your alpha about some weight gain you’ve noticed, and try taking care of it yourself because of this.

Author’s Note: Hey, you. Yeah you. The beautiful person reading this? You are perfect. You are worth it. Your feelings are valid and you shouldn’t feel bad about having them. You are so amazing, and even if I don’t know you, I am so proud of you. You are so strong for making it so far. Keep going. Never change. :) Also your nice comments? Literally my dose of serotonin

did I mention my OC one or twice? Yes. Am I sorry? No. Also, idk if anyone is curious, but Yuka doesn't actually go to Shiritorizawa but whatever.

Requests: Closed!

Buy me a coffee?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of (Semi?) Starvation.

Keiji Akaashi

➵Now, Keiji is pretty on top of omega and significant other care.

➵ Like, weirdly so. It's honestly kind of creepy?

➵ In an endearing way.

➵ He always says 'Bokuto-Kun prepared me in a way.'

➵ Honestly, he loves doing this for you too!

➵He loves caring for you so much.

➵ Like I firmly believe Akaashi's love language is acts of service.

➵ So things like bringing you food, leaving sweet notes in your locker, helping you with your homework.

➵ He lives for doing these things.

➵ Especially feeding you snacks and things.

➵ It made his inner alpha purr because that meant he was caring for you. Providing for you.

➵ Being the very thing that made him worthy of an alpha.

➵ Prove that he could continue being the alpha you needed and wanted.

➵ Unfortunately, there were downsides.

➵ Your hips had the beginnings of small love handles, a little more chub on you tummy, thighs a little squishier.

➵ Let's not lie, Keiji absolutely adored this, by the way.

➵ I also think one of his biggest kinks is praise

➵ He makes sure you know how loved and how perfect you are.

➵ It's sometimes hard to believe him though.

___

"Y/N?"

You hummed an acknowledgment at Keiji's call, typing the final words to your essay before turning to look at your beautiful alpha- Sometimes you questioned how you hooked him. His gorgeous emerald eyes shining with love and adoration.

"I'm gonna go run and pick up some supper, what would you like beloved?" He came up to squeeze and massage your shoulders, leaning down as he pressed a small peck to your temple, your purr a sweet melody to his ears.

You swallowed behind your purr, trying to hide the small panic in your eyes. Your mind instantly flashed to your reflection this morning, how you pinched your hips with a frown. You already had been slowing down on the snacks, and fast food made you shiver.

"I-I'm okay for now, Keiji. Thank you though." You smiled, nonetheless, holding Keiji's cheek in your hand. He quirked a brow, frowning slightly before nodding lowly. Another peck was pressed to your cheek before he left, ordering your favorite from the diner he took you to for your first date.

-

"Beloved, I'm back." Keiji called, once more tearing you away from your essay; you were always thankful for the distraction though. He set down the take out bag, taking out the top box and handing it to you before shrugging off his jacket.

"Keiji? I said I was okay-"

"I didn't believe you. Now come on, you need to take a break and I'm touch starved." The raven didn't even look behind at you before pulling out his own box, dragging your rolley-chair to the bed. He pulled his sweater over his head, handing that to you as well before giving you a sweet peck.

His eyes locked with yours. Your breath hitched. So many silent words swam in his eyes, asking you, demanding you, to tell you what was wrong.

"I just- I've gained a little weight lately and-"

"And? My love, you are just as gorgeous as the day I met you. Nothing is wrong with a little weight, even if I think you're foolish to think you've gained weight. Never think otherwise. Even if you do, let me know, my job as your alpha and boyfriend is to make sure you feel as good as possible no matter what."

He slipped the sweater over your head, rehanding you your meal that he took from you momentarily, running a hand through your hair.

"Your my beautiful omega. Nothing should keep you from your happiness."

Wakatoshi Ushijima

➵Unlike Akaashi, Wakatoshi is little more...Hesitant (In a way) when it comes to omegan care.

➵ He never really learned how to? Ya know?

➵ Both his parents were alphas, and he was never around omegas consistently enough to learn.

➵and it's not like you were a volleyball that he could use the same techniques to up-keep.

➵ He also couldn't ask his team.

➵ Well, he could, but only one other person on his team had an omega. (It was Satori and his advice, though helpful, could only go so far.)

➵ He was doing good though, especially with you holding his hand through the entire thing.

➵ The first time he noticed something was up was when you didn't show up to lunch-- texting him a picture of you in the library, tongue poking out as you held up a peace sign to assure him you were okay.

➵ When he brought it up to Satori, who had his own omega (A small, but fiery brunette named Yuka) leaning on his side as she played some sort of phone game on his phone (Mama's slusheria? He thinks?) .

➵He explained he didn't know what was going on with you while Satori listened with a hum before giving him a sad smile. "Sorry I can't help you further Ushi-waka, but as you can see-" He slid his unfinished lunch towards Yuka, who popped one of the Dango skewers into her mouth without looking up. "I'm not very familiar with the problem."

➵ He offered his help as much as he could nonetheless.

➵ He slowly began to pick up on smaller things, locking them in his steel trap.

➵ Like a good boy :)

➵ He put hours of research into omegas after this (not that he hadn't previously). Keeping strenuous notes beside him.

➵ They were colorful and highlighted :)

➵ And he followed the advice that 'Mommy Luna-boo' posted on the blog he found like a goddamn Mantra. ('Sometimes Omegas need a little more love! Their bodies, especially during high school years, will change a lot! They may feel a little down! As an alpha, make sure you remind them how beautiful they are!')

➵She was mother Theresa and he was her follower.

➵ Well after he followed you.

➵and after he made sure you were feeling better

___

"Omega?"

"Toshi."

Walking into your dorm room, Wakatoshi set down a small bag filled with goodies. He set it down on your bed as he sat down as well, watching you carefully.

When you gave him a small smile with a quirked brow, he took a deep breath, remembering everything Tendou had coached him through.

"Have you been eating enough lately?"

You sucked your tongue at the question, shuffling your shoulders. Truth be told you had been missing out on a few lunches after noting a few extra pounds you hadn't noticed earlier. You never meant to worry him, that was never your intention, but it seemed the world was working against you. You had no clue where to go from here. If you told him the truth that would do nothing but worry him, but lying was never good in any form of relationship.

Your hesitance to tell him was more than enough though, as his larger lands encased your own, holding them tightly.

"Why?" His tone wasn't accusatory nor was it angry in the slightest. Genuine curious if anything. If he could get to the bottom of the root of the problem, he could prevent it from happening in the future. Right?

"I- I just...Noticed a few extra pounds and-"

"That's it?"

You looked up to him with a tilted head, like a lost puppy. "What do you mean that's it?"

Pulling you closer, Wakatoshi effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, using one hand to dig through the bag beside him while the other wrapped around your hips. He pulled out a few of your favorite snacks laying them out in front of you.

"That's, in my opinion, a silly thing to worry about. If you feel that's a big problem, I can offer my services to you in any way you wish-- whether it be support or as help, it is my job to be there for you." He nuzzled your scent gland, voice rumbling against your shoulders.

You purred in response, leaning back onto your alpha.

Rintaro Suna

➵ Suna is a lot like Akaashi in the sense that he has incredible observational skills as an alpha.

➵ His eyes are like sniper scopes.

➵ The minute something is wrong, he's on it.

➵ Like he looks aloof but he's not.

➵ He had notes.

➵ So hiding something from him is not easy at all.

➵ But you two most likely ended up together because you gave him a run for his money.

➵ You made him work at being an alpha.

➵ And he loved you for that.

➵ It did come back to bite him in the ass though.

➵ The only reason he heard about this was because the betas at Inarizaki were loud mouths.

➵ Honestly he learned so much tea from them.

➵ Like this third year was sleeping with a first year because she planned on baby trapping him and-

➵ It was wild.

➵Though most times it was nothing more than a source of entertainment for you and him to laugh about.

➵This time the gossip was actually useful.

➵ He wasn't thrilled they were talking about you, but provided some very useful information.

➵ And he was set into action.

➵ typing a few things onto his phone he set out to find you.

___

"Rin, I said I'm not hungry-"

"I know and I'm making the executive decision to ignore you."

He squinted his eyes at the carefully written instructions in front of him, sending a silent thanks to Atsumu's mate Haruka. (;)) She had written a step by step instruction sheet to making Onigiri while also dropping off all the ingredients (Pre-prepped). The only reason she didn't make it was because Suna's alpha, no matter how much he trusted her, wouldn't have let it near you.

"Rintato-"

"Look, Y/N. I love you, you know that. You know a lot of things, you're my smart little omega. So you must also know this isn't good, right?" Sliding a plate of, albeit mediocre, onigiri towards you, Rintaro focused his gaze on you.

"You know this, eh?"

You swallowed before grabbing one of the triangles, nibbling on the top in an attempt to appease your alpha. His sharp gaze still focused on you, making you shiver as he rounded around the counter. He turned you around so you were facing him, his hands holding your hips.

"You know this."

You wilted under his expectant gaze, knowing what he wanted from you. "I know this."

He smirked, leaning to take bite from your snack, licking his lips as he did. "Good omega."

"Rintaro that's mine!"

[missinghan]

you came into my life (just like another season) ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : fluff; angst; hurt/comfort

❖ word count : 4,4k.

❖ warning : swearing, mentions of death, killing, implied suicide. 

❖ summary : one scarf. two hearts. three confessions. four seasons. or alternatively, jisung will love you throughout every season until you learn to love yourself. 

❖ author’s note : i’m busy preparing for finals but here’s a small piece for the new year so no one forgets me...i hope y’all didn’t, at least not yet. anywho, take this as my token of gratitude for 2021, i appreciate you all so much ♡

i. winter —

The school bell chimes. Five minutes later, you’re pushing yourself through the hall to get to the student council’s office. Plenty of ‘see you’ are echoing back and forth, some in your direction so you struggle as hard as you can to reply. 

Chaos settles once the school empties out. Someone catches your eyes, then. A boy with a red scarf around his neck. 

“Yo, Jisung,” you inquire with a slight jerk of your body because you can’t physically wave with the bulky box in your arms. It’s full of papers about upcoming Christmas events—you’re not dropping any of that. 

Jisung waves back and you’re half-expecting a cheeky smile from him—there’s none. Something restrains you from frowning. He just woke up so the fever might still be there, you don’t want to push him. His hair is a disbelieved mess, his blazer crooked on his shoulders. His face is redder than usual, too; it’s more noticeable with that red scarf. 

“Thanks for bringing me to the nurse’s office...and eating lunch with me.“ Jisung scratches his nape as if your existence alone causes him distress. “Do you uh- President, do you remember what I told you in there?”

“You don’t need to call me that,” you sigh, not certain what kind of face you should be making. “And I do remember. I mean...I can’t say that I’m not flattered to hear that as your friend—“

The rest of your own sentence fades into the background and whatever remains is ‘friend’. You just let it slip out unconsciously, without knowing. It doesn’t taste wrong on the tip of your tongue. Yet you’re becoming as flustered as when he said it in the nurse’s office. 

You’re not one of those people who usually stand awkwardly by a corner during breaks, watching students trail in and out of class with their group of friends. It’s actually the contrary; there are hordes of students crowding your personal bubble most of the time. A favor, a request, a complaint—the list goes on. You do know people, you just don’t associate yourself with them. 

Hence, you’ve never experienced any domestic things that a group of friends would do, let alone being told that. 

“I didn’t mean it as a friend,” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. 

“...Huh?”

He freezes for a moment, breath hitching as if trying to collect himself. His dark bangs fall over his eyes when his gaze traces the floor. “Of course, I like you as a friend. But what I was trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he exhales. “In a romantic sense.” 

You blink. “For real?” Even you feel offended by your own response. For real? Is that all you can say? What the hell?

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung. I just don’t feel the same.” You put on the mask of nonchalance that’s used to deal with people. Usually, it feels all too natural but somehow, guilt is nipping at your throat. 

Jisung breathes out. Then he shudders like something has just iced his spine. His shoulders quiver and his hands spasm. He lifts his head to face you with eyes that are bright with tears and a smile worthy of its own sun. 

“Well, I can’t accept that.”

Winter has gotten colder than last year. You find yourself staring across the street at night, looking at Jisung’s window. No yearly obnoxious holiday decorations, no light, no family dinner invitations. Nothing. 

Right before the stars leave the skies, you catch yourself not falling asleep at all. 

You might not meet him again. 

ii. spring —

“I’m in love with you.”

“Jisung, we’ve talked about this already.”

Never mind that. Han Jisung is way too persistent. Or terribly stubborn. Either way, you’re a bit concerned about him. 

There comes Jisung around the corner, again. The same exact spot from one month ago with the same confession, bed head uncombed and a red scarf around his neck. This time around though, he pouts, “I already told you. I can’t accept that!”

A stiff finger rests on your temple. “You’re making this dif- I mean, it’s not like I can help it.” 

His features soften as he notices how you rephrased yourself midway—you can’t bring yourself to hurt him no matter how nonchalant you appear to be. “And I can’t help being in love with you, even if it makes things difficult.” 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “I’m trying not to hurt your feelings here.” 

Jisung takes a step toward you. “Why are you so hell-bent on the fact that someone is in love with you?” He looks tired, you notice. Face too wan, cheeks too gaunt. Still a smile worthy of its own sun. You almost find yourself squinting. 

“It’s-well.” You halt, pressing a hand against your forehead. This shouldn’t go on any longer. You won’t let him. It shouldn’t have happened to begin with. “Do you wanna go and sit somewhere?”

You lead him to the school’s backyard where there’s a cage of bunnies. A trail of footprints leads up to the metal gate and then stops. There’s a warm outline left behind as if someone has sat in place and stared at the furry bunch for hours. 

“Sit, sit,” you clear your throat. “Please.”

Dumbly, Jisung sits on the second step of the porch with you. The two of you fit yourselves into the outline, shoulders pressing against each other. He’s cold, you notice again. 

Winter has been frost-locked. Leaves, blades, and sheaths of tender green come forth, dripping with the soaking rain and cooling breeze. Yet it shouldn’t be cool enough for him to catch a cold. 

“So?” A soft laugh. “Your answer?”

You clasp your fingers together tightly when your back straightens. Then, you lower your head to your hands, exhaling, “That’s a loaded question. Can’t we do small talk first?” 

Jisung stares at you, his chest numb and his breaths oddly inaudible. Here you are, the one he loved, loves, and will love always. Sitting under the soft sun like you’re both going on a fucking picnic, all nonchalance, and unbothered looseness. Something about this indignity makes him sick. 

He’s missed you. 

“We can’t,” he says, voice too loud for his own ears. His brain barely registers a hand reaching out until his fingers touch yours, pulling them away from your face. 

You startle away like it’s an instinct, eyes wide. “Right, right. Sorry, I’ll just-“ A sharp inhale. “It’s...I think- I still can’t believe it.”

“Come again?” He tilts his head, confused. 

Your lips move stutteringly, a chuckle creeping up your throat without any real humor. “About the fact that you said you’re in love with me. Come on now, really? As if anyone could fall for me.”

“Wow, that’s cruel.” Jisung narrows his eyes at you, features distorted with faint anger. Rather than unconvinced, he looks more...insulted as though you have rejected his existence altogether. Before you can blurt out another apology, he continues, “...you hate yourself a lot more than I thought you did. That’s a bit of a shock if I’m being honest.”

He knows that you never apologize wholeheartedly anyway. 

You look at him then, simply staring. His voice reverberates all around the walls that confine the tangled mess called your mind. Something seeps in deeper, sparks, flickers, and burns. Fury, Jisung can see it clearly. 

You are absolutely furious with him, in a way that you know he’s right and that he didn’t need to state the fucking obvious aloud. “This is so stupid. What do you even like about me?” You turn away, not being able to bear your own reflection in his glassy eyes. 

Jisung inhales but you interrupt him. 

“One after another...you’re all just the same. People are always flattering me with all sorts of different words. I never know who they’re speaking to, really, because I’m not like that at all. Even though they don’t see me as anything more than the title ‘student’s council president’, they just naturally convince themselves that I’m a good person.”

Jisung can’t help but recoil. Yeah, he’s heard worse, seen worse, done worse, but this is you. The one that he loved, loves, and will love always.  

“Making things up about me. Approaching me as you please. Becoming disappointed in me. And then leaving me all alone like I’m a fucking joke.” You face him with a smile—it feels stiff on your face. “You’re just like that too, aren’t you, Han Jisung?” 

Silence falls again and for a while, you both sit unmovingly. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his gaze—what you’re afraid of the most is right there. I’m...really hideous. 

“Fine, you gave me no choice,” he deadpans, the single word hitting against your eardrums. 

A resounding ‘thud’ and your head thrashes against cement. You gasp, the ache throbbing, “What are you—!”

Jisung grips at your collar with fire dust swirling in his eyes as his knuckles turn into an exasperating shade of white. He slams you against the wall again. It hurts. He closes in on you, “You want to know so badly?” 

Rather than a wince, a confused noise leaves your lips. 

“Truth is, I have always hated you.”

You don’t know what kind of face you’re making anymore. 

“Surprised? You should have known,” he jerks the grip and yanks you toward him. “We’ve been with each other since we were kids. Who do you take me for? A fool?”

“That’s not-“

“True? Then tell me, why can’t I get close to you for the past ten fucking years?” Jisung gropes the uniform even more tightly, not giving in no matter how much you’re struggling and kicking him. 

“You use people’s fake kindness to your advantage. You look down on others. You’re unbelievably arrogant. Yet you have no regard for yourself whatsoever. Can’t you see, you have a really nasty personality! The only reason why nobody ever cares about you for who you are is that you have never tried to see people for who they are, idiot!!”

For the first time in over a decade, you falter. “Shut up.” 

“No, I’m not finished-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me go.”

“I can’t.” 

You scream, the sound strangled in your throat, “Why?!”

“Y/N, you might not realize this but you’ve always seemed so fragile. I...I’m afraid if I let you go, you’ll shatter forever and I won’t be able to see you again. 

The time you wordlessly hold each other’s gaze is only a second or two but it feels like minutes. Hours. A whole goddamn lifetime playing behind your mind where you’re too powerless to do anything but gawk, reeling in shock. 

Fuck, you want to let the hurtful sound slip. 

“I can’t believe you just said something so corny with a straight face.” You shove his shoulders yet he stays unmoving. 

Jisung missed this, so much that he nearly cries when he finally gets to touch you. Yet he chalks it up because the sensation of your trembling form is so overwhelming, so real and raw. He hasn’t truly felt someone else’s touch in—in—

“You know, you’re making a really pathetic face right now,” he breaks into a smile. With a pull, you collapse completely into his arms. It’s an awkward hug, with your arms hanging on the sides and your knees knocking against his. 

You take back a choke. “You—you.” 

What’s wrong with you? You can’t even speak. 

Suddenly, a small sniffle broadcasts itself right into your ear. “I’m not crying, just so you know, I’m fine,” Jisung draws a shaky breath. 

“You should have just said it if you wanted a hug.” 

Another sniffle. “Are you sure it’s not you who wanted a hug?”

“Right,” you breathe a warm chuckle into his neck. “So what if I wanted a hug?”

“I’d say, tough luck,” he says and immediately contradicts himself by embracing you closer to his heart. 

iii. summer —

The heat makes you want to scream. 

You want to scream and sprint to the sea, flinging off your shoes without care because you realistically can’t do that to your responsibilities. You want to run towards the heaving waves and jump with each tiny trickle with the excitement of a five-year-old. 

Instead, there’s something else that makes you jump. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

The sight of him alone pains you. “Go away.” 

Jisung shows up again, this time at the student’s council office, where hardly anyone comes and leaves beside you during summer, by the way. With the same winter uniform, his stupid red scarf, and a smile worthy of its own sun. He closes the door briskly. “You know I can’t accept that.”

“Get out. Now.” 

“Sorry, no can do,” he decides cheerfully and takes a seat without asking for your permission. 

You snap, “Get out of my fucking sight!!!”

“My my, the president is cursing and acting indecently.” 

The binder in your hand zooms across the room. It aims for the target—Han Jisung’s pretty visage—and is ready to land on the mark to earn a satisfying scream from the victim. 

“Ack—!!!” He dodges it by a strand of hair, however, every color possible drained from his face. “G-God. That was- that was close.”

“I told you to leave,” you sigh, still irritated but somehow not able to bring out the anger anymore. “By the way, aren’t you hot wearing that?”

“I can’t really get rid of them even if I want to,” he replies carefully, tugs his nose under the red fabric of his scarf, and bends down to pick up the poor binder. His expression falls crooked when he sees to it—the spine is warped and broken—that could have been his nose. 

So in real Han Jisung’s fashion, he blurts aloud without any care for his life, “You know, you’re plenty scary, Y/N.”

You’ve already walked over to where he is by the time he realizes what he’s got himself into. “Do you want a beating or something?”

“But you’re also really kind,” he asserts with a cough, handing you the binder obediently while tracing random shapes on the tiled floor. 

It sets off a weird switch inside you but you’re not sure how sturdy his skull is. “Jisung, I’m just faking it. I’m the student’s council president, that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Jisung hugs his legs and lifts his head; soft black locks, gentle eyes, chubby cheeks—it’s been a while that you’ve noticed anything other than his pale complexion or the blood-red scarf. 

“That’s not it. I really cherish every moment I get to spend with you. The way you listen to whatever I have to say, the way you rearrange your schedule so we can eat together when I’m sick in the nurse’s office. The way you laugh at my awful jokes, the way you worry about me not just because my mom told you to, the way you treat my parents like they’re your own. Even the way you get angry at me or on my behalf.”

 “I like the way you take care of me like you mean it. That’s why I’m in love with you. You have no idea how happy I am just to be with you like this. I want us to be family. I won’t tolerate the idea of you being someone else’s.”

You make a sound that’s similar to a cough because the impact of his words simply knocks you breathless. “Didn’t you tell me that you hated me?”

Jisung is trying not to laugh. You can hear it in his voice. “Sorry, that was a lie,” he grins ear to ear. “Did you let my words get to you? Is that why you’re crying?”

Of course, he doesn’t hate you. He’s too dizzy with adoration and stricken with boundless love to hate you. 

Something flutters in your chest strangely. “Don’t look, damn it.”

Embarrassed, you attempt to shove him to the floor but he catches your foot right on time. “I love you, okay? I will love you always.” 

Your eyes are hot and leaking liquid, just like he said. “Just...fuck you.”

“That’s fair.”

You jerk your leg hard this time, almost bashing it against his head. “Fuck you.” 

“Okay, okay.” Jisung lets go, slightly petrified but even the mortification can’t make him avert his gaze. 

“I said, don’t look.”

Something cool grabs your hand—it’s wet with tears but he doesn’t mind. Instead, Jisung presses his lips against your palm, lets it cradle his coldness, and breathes in the tenderness. 

“Dumbass, you’re just crying,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t care what your tears look like.”

iv. fall —

The time you fear most has arrived; fall is here. 

Meaning, a new school year is bound to begin. Meaning, adults can continue to test you and prove that you’re nothing less than a complete fool. Meaning, students may step into your personal bubble as they please, whisking you around until you give them what they want. 

Yet people gush over the colors of the dying leaves, how crisp they are as one foot after another trampled over them, how perfect the weather is for reading poems. Meanwhile, your soul becomes so small and shrivels up inside, rattles around, only taking a cowardly peak when responsibilities come waving. 

Due to that fact, you have soon concluded that you cannot survive another ten months of sheer torture alone. 

So where the hell is the student council when you need them?

You’ve been looking for them all day—during lunch, in the backyard, on the balcony, in the members’ respective classrooms—and your efforts are to no avail. Suspicious. Weirdly suspicious. Of all places, where can they—

Oh.

Therefore as you realize how dense you are, you rush to the council’s office. Your hand shoves the door open. 

To your dismay, darkness pitches from the room. There isn’t much that surprises you anymore when it comes to any of their pranks. Which is why when you glimpse the first flicker of someone, your heart doesn’t jolt once. It continues to beat steadily as light floods the room, a few figures pop up, and confetti blows up in your face. 

“Everyone, on my count.” Minho gestures with his index finger. “Three, two, one…!”

“PRESIDENT, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

Your eardrums explode as a scowl traces your lips, “What the heck? It’s not my birthday.” 

“You’re right. It’s not,” Jeongin takes back a cough and holds up a cake with two hands. 

Felix offers you a thumbs up. “We decided to use that phrase because it’s concise and convenient.” 

“Uh...okay?” You blink, leaving the topic there or you might never hear the end of it, averting your attention to Minho. “And what are you doing here? You graduated months ago.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t come back for free food,” he smiles meekly. 

“I expect nothing less from you.” A dismissive wave; the shock still has yet to settle in. “So what’s the fuss?”

“Since this year is your last, we wanted to do something nice for you! As your fellow members and underlings, we could see your effort the most clearly all this time. Thank you for your hard work, we mean it. Truly.” A cheerful Lia creeps up from behind and throws her entire weight over your shoulder. “Felix baked the cake, by the way.” You’re going to crash, you’re going to crash—

Yeji comes to the rescue, peeling Lia’s hands away from you before tilting her head curiously. “Whose idea was it again? I can’t recall it.”

“Not me,” everybody else choruses. 

Ryujin whips out her phone and starts scrolling. “I’m sure there was a message in our group chat, no? There’s nothing? It literally was just here yesterday.”

“Can we just ignore it? You’re making things creepy,” Chaeryeong frowns, rubbing her arms unconsciously. 

“Maybe a ghost texted us?” Hyunjin says and gets pulled into an instant headlock because Seungmin isn’t tolerating any of that paranormal shit. “Let—go—what is—wrong with you!! You’re supposed to be the vice president!”

“Keep it up and I’ll bust your head open,” Seungmin deadpans, an ugly shadow looming over his face. Nothing should interfere with his beauty sleep. 

“Seriously, you’re ten thousand times scarier than the ghost itself!!!”

Minh rolls his eyes—this is power abuse, he thinks to himself. Your mouth twitches, exhaustion mixing with amusement. You lift a slow hand, curl your fingers, and jab it straight into the side of his stomach. Your friend chokes at the impact, stumbling back a few steps as the room winces in empathy. 

“What—“ he wheezes, “—the fuck?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you grin and twist your hand. “Just making sure that I’m not dreaming.” 

“That’s not how it works!!”

You ignore his cowering form on the floor. “A ghost, you say?” Something clicks. 

Oh, you’re kidding, you think stutteringly, You’re kidding me. 

“Uh, Prez?” Felix waves a hand in front of your face. “Cake? Let’s eat?”

You snap out of it and back away, starting for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back!!”

“Wait! Cake?!” The poor freckled boy yells after you. 

“Right, cake! Thanks for the cake! I’ll be right back, I promise!! Don't eat the entire thing, you hear me?!”

Something chokes up inside you as you run. You’re not entirely sure where you’re heading to despite being able to see everything and knowing every corner of the school like the back of your hand. 

“Looking for me?”

“Jisung?” You stop, letting out labored breaths. 

“I’m here, Y/N.” 

“What?”

“Up here, silly.”

Your gaze snaps upward as a sound rustles above the tree. Jisung mouths a small ‘careful’ before stomping on the branch to jump off, his red scarf flying back as he does so. As you’re about to ask what business he has with a tree, Jisung puts a kitten on the ground, waving it off. A smile worthy of its own sun and the winter uniform—he never changes. 

“Yo, Jisung,” you say, an echo of an old greeting, heart pounding rapidly. 

His hands slide into his pockets. “Missed me?”

“Sure did,” you humor him for a second there but clear your throat right after. “Did you do that? The surprise party?”

“Take a guess?” He tilts his head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You hold up a fist. “Take a punch then.”

“Does it really matter, though?” Jisung drags his words, clasps his hands to the back of his head, eyes returning to the blue sky. The sunlight warms him up a little, dusting some colors back on his cheeks. 

For a moment long, only the autumn leaves rattle against each other quietly. “Does it not?” You blink, your brain slowly rebooting backward. 

He, too, blinks and lets an obnoxious chuckle leave his lips as if he finally understands the punchline to the joke that is your life. “Of course not,” he confirms. “They did it for you. They did it because they love you, because they cherish you as a friend, because you are important to them. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” 

Warmth recoils in your chest, pricks your eyes, and forces a calm exhale from your lungs. 

Well, you indeed are an absolute idiot. You’re not alone, you don’t have to be so alone, you shouldn’t conclude that you are alone. That will mean neglecting those who truly care for you because they know you’re not all that difficult to love. They can share your burdens, accept your flaws so you may do the same. 

Who cares about the ones who left? You have no need for them anymore. Even if the ones by your side now may abandon you someday, you think you won’t be half as miserable because no matter what, you’ll always carry the love they used to harbor for you. 

It’s okay to grieve, to be angry, to be hurtful sometimes. You know that you’ll be just fine because those who wish to stay, will stay. 

“You should come back to them, you know.” 

There's a hand on your shoulder, tentative. You simply stand there and draw in a shaky breath, feeling the fingers slide higher until it brushes across your cheekbone. You catch his hand and hold onto it tightly. 

Jisung startles, almost stumbling away but you’re already dragging him along. He can do nothing except let his feet bring him to follow you. The steps are steady, slow; one, two, three. One, two, three. He stops counting in his head when you give his hand a squeeze. 

“You should come, too,” a cheerful decision. “Felix baked a cake. You like cakes, don’t you?” 

A scoff, “That’s a very obvious fact. You’ve insulted me.” 

Your chest heaves with genuine chuckles. “What else do you like then?”

“Well, I also like giraffes,” he admits. 

That’s so random. You try not to laugh again. “Do you want to go see one?” 

“I don’t really like crowded places,” he starts mumbling under his breath—his throat is tight like he has this sudden urge to cry. 

“Fine by me. What else?”

“Let’s see…music?”

You purse your lips. “I was going to say I could take you to a concert but you don’t like crowded places.” 

Jisung clings onto your hand with more force—a helpless gesture. “I like video games, too.” 

“Oh, that’s easy. Just this once, I’ll stay up late to play with you.” 

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, it’s a promise,” you sigh like you’re completely done with him. 

Jisung asserts hurriedly, “What do you like? I want to know what you like-well, I should know what you like but still-“

“Me? I like you, Han Jisung.” 

He flinches at how easy you make it sound. “For real?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” you say, voice gentle and light as you turn around. “So what’s with the long face?”

“That’s my line,” Jisung tries to laugh but his features stay crumpled, stricken with agony. “You’re thinking about that time too, aren’t you?”

You press your lips into a straight line, trying not to mirror his expression. Yet it shatters when he speaks again, “That time when you killed me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Something like guilts settles into your smile—fuck, you can’t cry. It would be absurd if you did because you didn’t even cry when you ended his life. How are you going to cry now when he is right beside you, holding your hand so tenderly?

“Sorry for killing you.” 

With a shudder, he shakes his head and pulls away. His hands unravel the scarf around his neck to put it over yours instead, each movement careful and attentive. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Jisung can finally laugh like he’s been freed from a chokehold. He opens his arms, crashing himself against you to breathe in the taste of the sky one last time. 

“Sorry for loving you so much.”

You return the hug, arms coming empty. 

❖ note (again) : an explanation for those who are confused; jisung died in winter. another thing is that he’s weirdly attached to his scarf because that is what he used to kill himself. so if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

[wonderful-writes]

Presume

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom thinks you’re too pretty to be any good at academics. You can imagine his shock when he’s proven wrong.

Word Count: 2k (2,097)

Author’s Note: The idea for this fic was given to me by @bellaswansrealgf. It was such a fun topic to write, so thank you so much bae for coming up with the idea! I’ll definitely be using more of your suggestions in the future.

Tom Riddle found himself becoming increasingly irritated. How could Professor Slughorn possibly expect him to work with a partner? What kind of fool did Slughorn think he was? Tom was perfectly capable of completing his project himself, and it was rather insulting for his professor to assign someone to help him. And not just anyone. Slughorn had assigned you.

You, the pretty girl, were in no capacity an ideal partner. You were friendly and charming and surely too bubble-headed to know a thing about potions. You were probably irritating and selfish and vain, too. Tom would have rather been partnered up with the clown from Gryffindor than with you.

“Tom, right?” you asked as you took a seat next to him. You were dressed in neat robes and had nicely styled hair. You probably spent all morning on it.

“Yes,” he replied curtly without so much as a glance your way. He began flipping his textbook to the desired page and scanning it with his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced.

Tom ignored you as he continued to read the page.

“So, what kind of potion do you think we should make?” you asked him, opening your own book.

Once again, Tom didn’t bother to look up or respond.

“Hello?” you tried again.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I know potions is probably not your area of expertise, so it’s best if you just sit there and let me work.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, surprised at how this stranger could claim to already know you without having ever spoken to you. “How would you know if I’m not good at potions?”

Tom scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like you’d be much of an academic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, starting to get offended.

“Well, I’m the best in the class,” Tom said like it was the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. “Professor Slughorn probably sent you here so that I could babysit you. You can’t be any good if you need me as a mentor.”

“I don’t need you as a mentor,” you told him. “Professor Slughorn wanted us to work together for this assignment.”

“Like I said,” he replied, turning back to his book, “maybe you should let me handle the assignment.”

You were beyond aggravated. How could someone who barely knows you make such assumptions about you? You were more than adept in potions, and it was unfair of him to shut you down without letting you prove your skills.

“You realize this assignment is worth 25% of our grade, don’t you?” you asked him as you crossed your arms.

 “Precisely,” he answered. “Which is why I won’t let you mess it up.”

You had never met a more arrogant person.

“If you’re going to be this way,” you declared, “I’ll just ask Slughorn if I can work alone. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the great Tom Riddle.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as you packed your belongings and walked away. You were attractive, sure, but you were also annoying. He was glad to be rid of anyone who didn’t let him take charge.

Slughorn allowed the two of you to work separately. To Tom’s approval, you set up your station far away from his. He almost pitied you. It couldn’t be easy for someone like you to complete an entire project by yourself. People like you only cared about their appearances or what the latest gossip was. There was no way you could make any of the complicated potions on the list of options for the assignment without help.

~

By the end of the week, Slughorn had finished grading the students’ potions and their accompanying essays. Tom, ever so confident in his abilities, was shocked when he didn’t receive a perfect score.

“What did I do wrong, Professor?” he asked after class had been dismissed. “I could have sworn I didn’t miss anything.”

“You forgot to crush the bay leaves before you put them in,” Slughorn explained. “But not to worry, my boy. You chose a highly complex concoction. It is almost guaranteed that any student who attempts to recreate it will forget at the very least one step.”

“Did anyone else choose that potion?” Tom wondered.

Slughorn nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

“And did anyone get it right?” Tom asked. He was doubtful that anyone in the class could have succeeded at something he failed to perfect, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“That’s for me to know, my boy,” the teacher answered. Seeing the frustrated look on Tom’s face, he chuckled and added, “Just know that you shouldn’t judge your partners so prematurely.”

Tom spent the majority of the night ruminating on Slughorn’s words. Could it be that you were the student who had gotten the perfect score on the potion he had attempted? He refused to believe it. Slughorn must have been referring to another student, one that Tom was paired with in the past. You couldn’t possibly be the partner in question.

~

It had been weeks since Tom came in second for the first time in his life. He convinced himself that it couldn’t have been you who bested him. Of course, he speculated who the true victor could be, but he couldn’t put his finger on who in the class could be worthy of such high marks.

Eventually, the time came for the annual examination preparation. Professor Slughorn’s students were assigned a series of practice exams to help them prepare for the actual ones. Each practice test focused on a different area within potions, and it was the students’ job to be well-versed in all of them.

At the beginning of every week, a new practice exam was passed out, and the grades for the previous week’s exam was posted on a roster at the front of the class.

Tom never bothered with making a show of checking his grades, knowing fully well that he would always be at the head of the class. But with the newfound knowledge of a possible competitor, he couldn’t quell his curiosity.

Making his way to the front of the room with the usual throng of Slytherin boys, he displayed no sign of concern. Why should the best in the year have to worry about some halfwit who ran into a bit of luck one time?

His air of indifference was quickly squashed, however, when he approached the posted practice exam scores and saw that his was the second highest. Second? That couldn’t be right. Tom Riddle never came in second. Who was first? Who could feasibly best Tom Riddle at a potions examination? The most brilliant student in all of Hogwarts, and in his best subject too?

He was horrified beyond comparison when he saw none other than your name at the pinnacle of the score sheet.

You.

Impossible. There was no chance that the bubbly girl with the face of an angel, er, a moron, could ever have received such excellent marks.

He’d seen you around, and you were most definitely not the kind of girl who cared about your performance in school. You were always smiling with your friends or tucking your hair behind your ear or dazzling a crowd with an extraordinary story. When you weren’t smoothing down your clothes or checking your made-up face, you were befriending the professors, something only stupid people needed to do.

So how could you have gotten a higher score than him? There must have been a mistake. He would have to ask Slughorn about it after class.

As he walked back to his seat, he glanced at where you were positioned, a table not too far from his own. You had already started on your assignment for the day, making quick work of the cutting and crushing of ingredients. Sure enough, you were dripping with the grace and beauty of someone who most likely didn’t know the difference between reed and foxtail.

How could one possibly be proficient in any academic subject when they looked like that? You probably spent more time shining your shoes than studying for exams. Then how did you beat him, and twice?

He watched you work for the remainder of the period. To his surprise, you were doing everything correctly. You never added a drop too much or a sprig too little. You stirred with precision and knew what color to look for in the brew. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Were you truly more intelligent than he had originally presumed?

Still unconvinced, he approached Professor Slughorn after dismissal to question the scores from the most recent exam.

Slughorn only sent him a mysterious look before answering, “Everything is as it should.”

-

After the third week of coming in second place, Tom decided that it was enough. It was time he put his troubles to rest and find out for himself what sort of witchcraft was in play.

“Are you cheating?” he abruptly asked you the moment you took your seat. Professor Slughorn was not yet in class, giving the students ample time to converse before lessons began.

Startled, you stared back at him. “What?”

“You must be receiving help on your practice exams or at the very least borrowing notes from someone,” he stated matter-of-factly. “So tell me. Who is it?”

You had had enough of this arrogant git’s behavior. “What makes you think I need help? Is it so hard to believe that you are not the only person in this room who can do well in school?”

“Well I- you see, you’re not exactly the sort to put much thought to academics,” he defended.

“And what sort is that?” you questioned.

“You know, the vain, pretty lot,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d imagine you spend more time on your appearance than on your academics.”

You gaped at the boy before you. “You think I’m pretty? And before you go on, my appearance has nothing to do with my drive to excel in scholarly affairs. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of receiving just as good of marks as you are, despite what you think.”

“Then work with me on today’s partner project,” he challenged.

“Excuse me?” The last thing you were expecting was for the high-and-mighty Tom Riddle to want anything to do with you after his blatant rudeness.

“If you’re truly as good as you say—”

“You mean as good as the scores prove,” you cut in.

Tom rolled his eyes. “If you’re really that good, show me. Demonstrate your skills on today’s potion, and I’ll believe you.”

So the two of you spent the class working together on the assigned potion. Tom made sure to stand back so that you could have the freedom to do things on your own, silently hoping that you would make a mistake. But you didn’t.

Your potion was perfect. There was not an herb out of place or a drop not potent enough. Everything was as it should.

You had clearly proven to Tom that you were a skilled student, worthy of his second glance. You only hoped that the self-righteous twat would realize not to judge people before knowing them.

“While I hate to admit my own shortcomings, you were right,” Tom conceded.

You smiled at his admittance. “Thanks, Tom. I’m glad you learned something from this experience.”

He had expected to feel more disdain at the fact that he had finally found his match. He was waiting for annoyance, jealousy, some spark of rage at being second-best. But all he felt was a strange sensation.

You were quite honestly brilliant, and he couldn’t remember a time when he genuinely thought that about a fellow student. You were quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and unafraid to back down from a challenge. You stood up to him despite barely knowing anything about him, other than that he was a royal pain to you. And, not to mention, you were quite a sight to behold.

It was no secret that Tom kept to himself more often than not. Sure, he had a group of peers who respected him — whether out of fear or genuine liking is up for debate — but he never got to know anyone on a personal level. He never let anyone get too close or see him for someone other than the shining pupil with big plans. But, for once, he wanted someone to share his genius with.

He intended to make you that person.

—

Part 2