#so even though you know its not going to happen

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[erwinsvow]

can we have rafe try to grovel ?? :((((( shy reader deserves better !!! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/erwinsvow/751213087399510016/what-if-rafe-ever-hit-shy-reader-from-built-up?source=share

he will grovel!! side note i dont know how i feel about this its just for the sweet anon who wanted part two

the moment rafe shuts the door and traps you in the room, between his body and the wall, you know some part of you has just broken that you'll never fully be able to fix.

everything in your body tells you to look up at rafe and do something. slap him back, push him away, turn around and storm out of the room and try to at least show him you're just as mad as he is—but none of that actually happens.

hot tears keep spilling down your cheeks, and you stay frozen like that for what feels like forever, staring at the floor of rafe's bedroom. the sound of rafe's heavy breaths fills the space, though you can barely detect it over the way your heart is pounding in your ears.

you want to leave. but you don't know where you even would go. before the events of the last hour, there was no where you wanted to be more than wherever rafe was. and now, staring at the floor instead of up at the boy who you had gladly given your heart to only for him to snap it in half with his bare hands and deliver it back, you stay frozen, waiting for rafe. you are always waiting for rafe.

"kid, i-" you finally look up, through wet lashes and almost painful eyes fluttering slowly, and rafe stops talking the moment you do. you don't know why, but it doesn't take you long to figure it out. there's a mark on your cheek the size of his hand, probably an imprint from his ring too.

it's such a shame—you always loved that ring.

you snap out of your thoughts when rafe keeps talking, though there's still blooding rushing in your ears. he sounds muffled, his mouth moving and expression looking, you can only imagine, somewhat close to yours—sad and angry all blended together. you keep blinking slowly, listening but not really listening, waiting for him to finish so you can leave.

how stupid you must seem to him, and to yourself, you think pathetically. he just hit you, and you're waiting for him to finish, so you don't impolitely interrupt. you should drive straight from tannyhill to a therapist's office—though you think not even a licensed professional could help you figure out what exactly is wrong with you.

the thought makes you laugh, corners of your mouth turning up and a rush of air leaving your throat. half a laugh, half a sob. the gutting realization has just hit you—whatever was wrong with you, rafe was the only one in the world who seemed to understand you.

"baby?" rafe asks, and you actually snap out of it this time—looking up at your boyfriend, wondering if he knows you haven't heard a single thing he's said so far.

"i think i should go home," you reply, wondering where your keys are and where your wallet is. you don't keep track of these things anymore, usually since rafe drives you everywhere and pays for everything.

"okay. i'll bring you, just let me go get-"

"no, i-" you stop yourself—about to apologize again. everything running through your mind makes you choose your words carefully. "i'm gonna go home."

"you didn't drive here, kid. i picked you up, remember?" rafe looks back at you and you feel a fresh wave of tears take over. you hadn't remembered.

"oh."

"listen, kid, i'm so-"

"i'm going home," you repeat firmly, mostly to yourself. "i'll just-i'll walk."

"y'not walking. it's dark and-"

"rafe, stop." the way you say it, he actually listens. you don't sound like yourself, you can tell from the way he looks at you, rafe's face doused with concern and apprehension. you look away, turning to face the door. "i'll be fine. i need to go."

"c'mon, kid, don't go," he says, and every bone and muscle inside you wants to listen, to do what he says like you always do. you feel more hot tears coming up, stopping them seems impossible yet you know crying is useless. it already happened and the damage is already done.

you turn around from your position, knowing it's a mistake. rafe gets closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. he holds your face like he always does, except there's one big difference—you flinch the moment he starts moving.

"baby," rafe says quietly, and everything in you stops for a moment. brain lagging, breath catching, even the tears stop for a second while you look up at your boyfriend. "i'm so sorry. i am so sorry. i fucked up, okay? i know i did, but please don't go."

"rafe, i can't stay," it comes out just as quietly, a notch above a whisper. "you hurt me." it comes out wrangled in a sob. rafe wipes away some of your fresh tears with his hands.

"i-i know. and i'm gonna regret it forever, but-" rafe stops, and you stop too. you chew on your lip nervously, realizing it's going to bleed from how much you're biting down. "can-can i at least bring you home? please?"

"okay," you give in-but you shouldn't have.

you don't even know how you're gonna explain the mark on your face to your parents, or why you're home so early when you said you were sleeping over. every movement feels exhausting—grabbing some of your things and walking down the stairs to getting into rafe's truck. the drive to your place isn't very long, only ten minutes, and you stare out the window the whole time. it feels like hours with the way rafe looks at you at each red light.

rafe pulls into your driveway and you look up at him expectantly, though you're not sure why.

"can you-can you turn the headlights off? i don't want them waking up," you say, after what feels like ages of silence.

rafe turns the lights off but doesn't say anything. it's not until you reach for the doorhandle that he does—it's almost muscle memory for him. he leans over you to pull the handle and open the door for you, but you flinch so hard when he moves that he can't even get the door. instead he looks back at you while you stare up at him. without any words, you both know what the other is thinking.

"goodnight, rafe," you say, your own hand on the door now.

"wait, kid," he says, and you stop your movement immediately. even in this situation, you can't help but listen. "can i see you tomorrow? please?"

"i don't think that's a good idea."

"c'mon. we-we have to talk about this. i can't just.. not see you. i'm gonna go crazy."

"i need to go rafe." the second you say it, you start feeling bad about it. it's so engrained in you—trying to avoid hurting rafe in any and every way possible, that the very idea of not giving him what he wants makes your chest ache painfully. "i.. i have to think about it."

he leans over, slowly this time so you don't get scared again, opening the door for you like he always does. you climb out, getting your bag and trying to pretend everything's fine until you get inside your room.

"good night, kid. i'll talk to you tomorrow."

without replying, you walk inside. rafe's truck stays in your driveway until you lock the door, and he doesn't drive away until minutes after.

surprisingly, you make it to your room before you start crying. and you don't stop crying until the sun comes up.

[dollfacefantasy]

little drabble while i go back and forth between longer fics <3

jason todd x reader

Brown leather comes up over charcoal kevlar when Jason pulls his jacket into place. He shrugs it on before bending over and adjusting the kick pads fastened to his boots. You watch from your seat on the edge of the bed. You watch your lover conceal himself piece by piece. The tight fabric molds over his scarred body like a second skin.

You chew the inside of your cheek as a way of dealing with your frayed nerves. This feeling was becoming a constant in your life. Every night he went out, every morning he came back bloody and bruised. It was getting to the point where being calm brought on anxiety because it didn't feel right.

Swallowing hard, your eyes stay locked onto him as he goes through his routine. When he turns around, his gaze lands on you. In an instant, he knows something's wrong. He'd only been back for a little while but dying hadn't stripped him of his talent for reading your emotions.

"What's the matter, doll?" he asks.

You shake your head and shrug, trying to communicate that it was nothing without saying it was nothing. Because it was something and your voice would betray that with one syllable.

He seems to understand regardless and approaches you. His hand finds its place under your chin and guides your face upwards to look at him.

"C'mon, you know you can tell me anything," he says softly.

"I just… I don't want you to go," you say, the words coming out close to a whisper, "I hate that you still go out there every night. I just got you back. I don't wanna lose you again."

His expression grows more tender. He sits on the bed next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Oh baby…" he coos.

You're engulfed by his frame. It seemed even bigger since he came back. Your head sinks to its preferred spot on his shoulder against his neck while his palm sweeps up and down your back. These little techniques to soothe you had become apart of a routine performed as often as him getting ready. It never led to him actually staying home though. The lust for revenge that coursed through his veins was practically coded into his dna. He'd still head out as soon as your emotions had settled, but he never passed up a chance to take care of you.

"You're not gonna lose me again, sweetheart. No way," he whispers and kisses your temple. His large body sways back and forth a bit with you in his lap. "I would never let that happen. No one's taking me away from you. I'll be out for a little while, but you know I'll come back in the morning."

You nod reluctantly and run an exhausted hand over your face.

"That's right," he murmurs before landing another kiss, "I'll be back before you wake. You'll fall asleep and then when you open your eyes I'll be there waiting for you."

You nod again and slide your arms around him to give one last lingering hug. He returns it, his grip much tighter than yours. A final kiss later, and he's up. You're placed on the mattress before he crosses the apartment and grabs the remaining piece of his persona. The sleek red of his helmet replaces the shaggy black hair you love so much. The vacant white of the mask covers the pools of turquoise in his eyes.

"Love you, baby," he says in parting before heading out the window into the night.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Twelve

Summary - The High Lord's meeting takes place which provides the perfect opportunity to set you free.

Warnings - Get ready besties! Angst, trauma, ptsd, fluff, mentions of death, depression, weight loss, mentions of scarring

Word Count - 8.5k

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

Time had ticked by tantalizingly slow, hours felt like days, and days felt like weeks. The rawness of your throat made every cough and splutter tease the death that was lurking around your small form, the same body that was shaking from the chill in the air and bones protruding from your skin from the lack of nourishment you had been given.

It was as though you had been forgotten.

The taunts had stopped, the other prisoners noticing how dire the situation had become, and they instead sought to comfort the imprisoned princess holding onto life by a single tensed golden thread. It had become clear that you weren't much different from them, plagued by the need to create a better life no matter the consequence. No matter the cost.

Visits from your fractured family had dwindled, only Feyre could enter the hell you found yourself in unnoticed, though, she carried the intriguing scent of cedar on her clothes but she didn't speak of him, she knew that above all, the betrayal of Azriel had cut you the deepest. It was Feyre who reminded you of the light beyond the confined walls, she carried messages from Cassian and Mor, and Amren, she carried whatever hope she could to you.

They were all desperate to convince you to just hold on for a little longer. Just another day.

Though, what you couldn't understand was how the queen dwelling deep inside of you could leave so abruptly. Perhaps it was the thick onyx stone embedded into the walls, maybe it made her cower back into her cage leaving the weakest part of you in the dim faelight.

Shuddering, you wrapped your arms around yourself, curling into a ball atop the stone altar that had been calling to you for Mother knows how long, so long that you had succumb to it and used it as a place to rest your dreary head. The matted hair attached to your scalp swept across the stone, gathering the last remnants of blood and dirt from the surface, the rest had seeped into your bones long ago.

The air had shifted somewhat, like the shifting sands of a land far away, telling you that beyond the walls that worked tirelessly to contain you, something was happening.

Thunder rumbled in the grey skies, you could hear the lightening barrel into the tower where your cell lay, cracking rock in its wake, as though nature itself was growing restless. There were little tears left to cry even when the shackles binding your limbs broke through your once glowing skin, it didn't hurt anymore, nothing did.

You were empty.

Is this what death felt like? To feel so stiff and empty, numb to the point where the screams within the prison no longer made your toes curl or heart clench?

If it were to be your end, then you would accept it. A part of you welcomed the idea, to be free of it all, to go to a place where you could find peace.

Eris.

It was the only name that could make you ache.

You had made peace with the fact that you may never see them again, that you’d never get to feel the touch of Eris' lips on yours, or Lucien's arms wrapped around you, Elain's kind words or Nesta's friendship. They would be better off without the danger your existence brought to their lives, not even from Rhys, but from whatever evil dwelt within you.

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you hissed slightly, the skin broken and sore from the gnawing of your teeth; the same sensation grappled at your fingertips, your nailbeds raised and angry and nails split and jagged. When you ran your fingers down the front of your body, all that met your touch was the boned outline of your ribs that you could count one by one, and the sharpness of your collarbone and shoulders.

If Eris saw you, he would burn the world to ash. You were sure of it.

Had he met with Helion and Tamlin? Had he forged a path to free you? Had Rhys ended him before he could rise?

"Your thoughts are too loud, Princess," the taut voice of your neighbour called through the darkness, the thunder acting as the sonnet to his ire as it clapped somewhere overhead, rumbling the skies and shaking the ground beneath the altar where your body lay.

Jovian was one of the very few prisoners who hadn't taunted you after your rather unfortunate arrival within their home. What he did to land himself in such a place you never wished to know, but he had become an important crutch in your dwindling existence. The smallest surviving part of your imagination wanted you to believe that he was a handsome male, such notions derived from his voice being as warm as summer rain and as rich as chocolate.

Being neighbourly wasn't something you'd find within your personal hell, but you had learned that life had been made to surprise you in the most strangest of manners.

A strained hum sounded against your wilting lips, plastered downward as though they didn't know joy anymore, "Sorry," your voice broke with the rawness of your throat, the dryness that settled so deep within your oesophagus that you were convinced it would never leave even if you did by some miracle become free.

Jovian was daemati, just like Rhys, although, he couldn't control it very well at all, he was never trained with the gift after being locked away at such a young age. Thoughts seemed to scream at him, like a carriage racketing through a tunnel, loud and grating. He had been nice enough to you though, using gentle words and a soft voice to make you feel seen and heard, to make you feel like you were still important to someone despite being locked away and the key dropped into the Sidra.

A faint shuffle moved through the air, a sign that Jovian was moving closer to the bars of his cell, and he sighed, the warmth of his breath stretching to kiss your ice cold skin, "It's alright," his voice spoke, you could almost picture the male with his back pressed against the bars, his fingers reaching outward to where they could graze against yours if you would only move to accept it.

Thunder screamed beyond the walls, lightening and rain battering against the foundations, wearing away the stone bit by bit so that it may be able to reach you. "Can you feel it? The world tilting?"

Jovian hummed low, "I can. We all can."

It wasn’t a lie. The residents of the Prison had become restless, their maniacal laughter howling into the night, and part of you had wished to join them.

Using whatever little strength you had left, you pushed yourself upward and swung your legs over the side of the altar, the flashes of the same moment in another time splintering their way into your consciousness; your bare and bruised feet padded against the damp floor, a slight limp possessed your step from the countless times your ankle had twisted from not being able to hold your own weight.

Matching Jovian, you pressed your back against the onyx bars of your cell, crawling your fingers through them to brush lightly against the tips of his own, "What does your name mean?"

It was something you had thought of since the moment he told you it, it was such a unique name, much different from the names you knew. Jovian's index finger curled around your own, "Father of the sky. My mother enjoyed astrology and the study of planets, she said that it fit me perfectly." A beat of silence passed, "What does yours mean?"

Furrowing your brow, you couldn't seem to remember it, "I- I don't know."

A contemplative sound came from his lips, "I think it means warrior, it takes great strength to survive and hang onto your light in the face of great darkness."

A humourless laugh passed through you, "I'm no warrior."

"You're still here, aren't you? You could have given up long ago, but you didn't. What keeps you here?" Here as in Prythian, here as in the world, here as within life.

Flashes of laughter and love caressed against your soul, of warm Autumn evenings with your legs propped up on a lap and a furry head resting on your thighs, "Someone that I love, very much."

Reuniting with Eris was something you had forbidden yourself to dream of, it was futile given your condition, and maybe he would take one look at your ruined form and decide that he was better off. Eris would never do such a thing, but it helped you to believe that there was better things in the world awaiting him. Though, when those dreams did grace you, you had always awoken feeling full with your soul glowing gold. Multiple scenarios of it had poured through you, running through the forest at the edge of the estate into his open arms, on the beaches of the Day Court in the instance that Helion would break through the rock and pluck you from your cell, in Velaris when you would overthrow Rhys and bring peace to the Night Court.

Every scenario was beautiful and perfect, but they were just dreams, and dreams didn't tend to come true for you.

Jovian's finger traced the hem of the cuff secured against your wrist, cringing at the marred flesh thriving beneath it, "To love is a beautiful thing," his was was toned with longing, of a desire he would never get to experience for he too was subject to the knowledge that he would never leave.

"Yes," you cleared your throat, "It is."

"Whoever owns your heart is the luckiest male in the universe, y/n. Fighting is worth it when you have someone waiting for you."

Laying your cheek against the bars and staring onward like the stones may part and reveal you to one another, you asked, "Do you have someone waiting for you?"

Jovian pondered the question, sadness settling into his chest as he thought of how long he had been locked away, at how he had slowly aged over the time where everyone he once held dear had perished, "I may have once, not anymore though."

"If I ever get out of this place, I'll come back for you. I swear it."

For awhile after your voices died against the roaring skies, you sat with your backs pressed against your respective bars, fingers entwined, and for just a moment, you both didn't feel alone.

The Day Court was just as stunning as Eris had remembered it to be, tall marble pillars and ethereal artworks encapsulated the ceilings, and he wondered how he hadn't spent longer admiring it all the last time he had been within Day. Then he remembered that the last time he had been in the Day Court was when you had asked him to take you away, you had stolen his attention that night, and you had each day after.

All of the High Lords of Prythian had answered the call, even Rhys, and the day had come where the world would get to know what he had done to you.

Tension had been rife within the family you had brought together, Nesta was on edge about seeing Cassian and Feyre, Elain was on edge about seeing Azriel, Lucien was ripping at the seams at the thought of being around Rhys, and Eris was on edge about everything. One wrong move and Rhys could easily send the order to have your existence wiped from the world.

It was silly to assume that Rhys would bring you despite the demand for it, though Eris couldn't help but hope to see your glossy hair sauntering through the halls or the hem of your dress sweeping against the stone as you turned a corner.

The Day Court had always been your favourite place, you had often spoke of how you adored the sun seeping into your pores, how you'd never felt more complete and peaceful when walking along the sandbank with the water rushing up to greet you. Eris pictured you leaning against every wall he passed, a soft smile on your lips and skin glowing with love and health, hair bundled over your shoulders that he could twirl a finger in if he so wished, eyes burning so brightly that it made his stomach flip.

Helion had studied the texts as he had promised to do, and he was confident in his approach to rid the demon queen from your body thanks to the talents nestled within his court. Eris had been warned that it would be painful for you to endure and him to watch, but that it would put an end to the evil entwined within you.

The chamber chosen for the meeting was regal in its own right, high ceilings with coving made of solid gold, larger than life chairs arranged in a perfect circle around a pond of seawater that scattered its waves across the ceiling, large open arched windows with thin drapes that danced in the ocean breeze.

Kissing the horizon, the low sun signalled that it was time.

Eris sat across from the chairs assigned to the Night Court, Nesta to his left and Lucien to his right, both of whose orbs were trained on the empty seats awaiting the presence of the High Lord and Lady of night, if the latter would even show her face that is. Helion sat to the right hand curve of the sphere before the largest of the windows with the sun dipping just below the arch of his seat, fingers tapping against the table becoming annoyed with the lateness; Tamlin sat to the left curve, eyes darting to the High Lords and nose occasionally sniffing to catch a speckle of your scent.

All the other High Lords knew was that a crime had been committed, and that such a crime required a hearing of sorts, an attempt of resolution before the land was consumed by war on four fronts. Day. Night. Spring. Autumn.

It was clear that Rhys had spouted lies to the Winter Court, such was clear by the stone-faced glare being sent Eris' way by Kallias, and Eris could only imagine what vile words had been spoken between the two of them. Kallias had no doubt been told that Eris was a kidnapper, a manipulator and liar that had weaved his way into the mind of his dearest sister and turned her against her home and family.

The doors to the chamber opened once more, to announce the presence of the final bodies they were awaiting. Rhys appeared as stoic as ever, dressed in his finest onyx tunic, his crown dipping low on his brow and violet eyes swimming with poised anger; beside him was Feyre, eyes weary and stressed, dressed in her usual blue-grey ensemble. Then the Inner Circle appeared, all varying in their levels of ire and discomfort, Cassian whispered Nesta's name as soon as he saw her and she froze in response, noting how his wings had drooped slightly and skin tinged with illness. Mor hadn't looked much better, the shine to her hair had disappeared, her nail polish was chipped and her dress seemed a bit loose on her frame.

Counting them all one by one, it soon became glaringly obvious that a certain Shadowsinger had refrained from attending the meeting.

Rhys all but glided to his seat, giving Feyre a stern look as they both sat, their Inner Circle following suit to either side of them and bringing their night-kissed dread to a once warm room.

From their pallid complexions Nesta knew what they had seen, she knew that they too now knew the truth, and it gave her some form of hope to know that maybe you had some people looking out for you. Nesta's eyes connected with those of her mate, and she felt the air rush from her lungs at the pleading she found within them and the gentle tugging on the bond that she opened willingly, feeling his guilt and reassurance soaring across it.

"I appreciate you all for coming on such short notice," Helion spoke after a beat, allowing the tension to fester upon Rhys' entrance, his power causing the room to swelter.

It was taking all of his control to not lunge across the serene pool that separated them, Eris would give anything to be able to wipe that smug grin off of his face. The day would come when he could do such a thing, but that day wouldn't be the one where your life and sanity loomed over his pretty red head.

From the way Helion's eyes drifted to Rhys, with fire coursing through the speckles of his irises, did the other High Lords realise what had called them to the Day Court Palace, or rather, who.

"Rhysand," Helion drawled his name, a smirk tugging on his lips, "You are here to answer to a court of your peers, to the High Lords who wish to rule this world harmoniously, for the crimes you have committed against your own court, and your own flesh and blood." Helion moved his gaze to Kallias, then to Thesan and Tarquin, then to Tamlin who shuffled in his seat, and then to Eris who he gave a short, curt nod.

"For those of you who don't know of Rhys' treachery, allow me to fill you in," Helion waved his hand and sank back into the comfort of his seat, "For the last fleeting eon, Rhys has held his own sister captive within his court for fearing that her power could overthrow him. Upon realising the betrayal of her own brother, y/n approached Eris and asked him to free her of the confinements of the prison that she called home and found herself thriving within the Autumn Court."

Not expecting the words but also not wanting to go head-to-head with Helion, all Rhys could do was sit and listen, and Eris caught the poorly hidden smirk itching its way onto Feyre's mouth.

"Rhys threatened her, manipulated her into believing that she belonged to the Night Court and that if she didn't return then he would kill the family she had made with Eris," Helion's stare bore into Rhys, his orbs glowering with intensity and anguish over what he had done to his friend, "Rhys placed collars of onyx stone on her to make her void of power, and has psychologically tortured her to the point where she no longer resembles the female she used to be, and," Helion turned his head slightly to Eris in silent permission, not once tearing his eyes from the seething High Lord in his eyeline. Eris nodded once and felt the fate of the world move at it, "Rhys removed the memories of Eris and y/n from one another. They are Carranam, and they were very much in love. It threatened his power and position, so he stole their memories and locked her away so that she would never learn of what he did, and instead spread vile lies and vicious rumours so that no one would ever think to look for her or wonder about her."

Feyre soundlessly uttered the word, Carranam, her lips moving perfectly with the roll of her tongue, and her eyes widened. Feyre turned to her husband and mate with horror laced within her orbs but said nothing, instead her gaze flickered to Cassian, and then to Mor, before settling on Amren whose fists were clenched and nostrils flared.

"Where is she?" Tamlin asked, voice low and dangerous, "You were ordered to bring her."

Rhys ticked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, seemingly unphased by the stare of betrayal from his mate and the mother of his child, "My sister is elsewhere. To move her for a meeting so futile would cause her a great deal of pain."

"Where is she?" Eris hissed, his fingers creating scratches in the arms of his chair. Rhys was too smug, the lazy grin on his lips made Eris' blood boil so much so that ash pooled beneath his palms.

Finally, Rhys looked to Eris, he cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips, "The location of my sister is none of your concern," Rhys relaxed into his chair, unphased and unbothered, which only irked Eris more, "As Night Court tradition stipulates, an unmated female is the property of her family until she finds her mate or a suitable arrangement is made. My sister is unmated, and therefore, she's mine."

"That thought would hold if it were true," Nesta smirked, peering at Rhys through her lashes, her fingers drifting over the hilt of Ataraxia.

His eyes narrowed, and more a moment, Nesta could have sworn that she had saw a flash of fear within them, "It is true."

Eris hummed, "No, it's not actually," he allowed his glamour to fall, and the scent of your bond flooded the room, pine and spiced orange mixed with jasmine and salted air, "Y/N is my mate, she is my Carranam," Eris rose to his feet, "She is to be my wife, my High Lady, and the mother of my children. But before all of that, she is going to be free."

No one had been expecting so much information when they had arrived within the Day Court that afternoon, the collective mind of Prythian was reeling.

"Tell me where my mate is, Rhysand. We won't ask again," the red of his waistcoat strained against his chest and he inhaled deeply, partly relishing in the surprise in Rhys' eyes as he attempted to hold onto some reason why he could continue entrapping you.

Then, a sweet voice spoke, one raw from holding back tears of fury, "She's in the prison. Rotting away on his orders," Rhys' widened gaze moved to the owner of the voice, finding Feyre unwilling to look at him after confessing his darkest act.

A low growl emitted from Eris and he felt Nesta rise to her feet beside him, "We've been helping her the best we can, but she doesn't have much longer left," Cassian added, flinching when Rhys' head snapped to face him, but his eyes didn't move from Nesta, and she felt his sincerity flow down the bond and settle within her heart.

Cassian had become your ally, he was on your side trying to help you, but there was little he could do against Rhys' power, no matter how determined he was.

Realising that his own Inner Circle, his own family, had betrayed him, Rhys' eyes darkened and the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Then it stopped. Rhys shivered. Rolling his neck at the sensation peeling down his spine, Rhys snarled, and peered back to the door as though he was expecting someone to enter. His ears twitched and his eyes narrowed, then he froze, it dawning on him what exactly he was feeling.

"What have you done?" Rhys turned his head to Feyre sadistically slow with a voice dangerously calm, but Feyre didn't back down, no, she rose to her feet and stared down at her mate with every ounce of disdain in her body.

"We," Feyre motioned between herself, Cassian, Mor, and Amren, "Have done what is right."

It dawned then on your found family that all this time, when they had believed that they were all against you, it was actually the opposite. They had been working tirelessly to find a way out for you, had been orchestrating their own movements to get to that moment, to get Rhys far away from the Night Court for long enough to give you a fighting chance.

And on knowing what was happening, Rhys blew through the wards around the Palace like it was nothing, shattering the shields into oblivion with his fury, and winnowed from sight.

The stiffness in your legs warned you what was coming.

There was no energy or fight left within you to do anything about it as you retreated to the far corner of your cell and draped the thin blanket over your tattered dress.

Wind slammed against the side of the tower, roaring into the night, desperately attempting to break through the stone as strong as iron. The skies cried with it, unable to idly stand by and watch you succumb to the thing that terrified you.

Death.

It had always been a concept you had been scared of, you loved life too much, and all of the possibilities that could have been yours if you were brave enough to just take the chances when they were in front of you.

One more dream, you could allow yourself that.

Your eyes drifted closed and you drowned out the words of Jovian who felt so close yet so far away, focusing solely on the male who owned your heart in every single way that mattered, on the male who had never been afraid of you.

In that moment, you imagined laying in your bed at Fir Manor, his ear pressed to your swelled stomach and lips stretched into a wonderous smile as he tried his hardest to listen to the heartbeat of the babe growing inside of you. His babe. You imagined running your fingers through his hair, wondering if your children would be blessed with hair the shade of glowing embers or hair as dark as the night. Eris would press his lips against your skin, whispering sweet promises to your growing babe that he would be nothing like his father, that he would protect your little family with every fibre of his being.

It was a sweet dream, a glimpse into the future, so sweet and perfect and impossible that you felt a single tear slip down your ashen cheeks.

One day you'd see him again. One day you'd be reunited in the stars and the heavens would sing their adoration. And you'd wait, and you'd watch him go through life, and you'd guide him to the next day, and protect him with your light until he would one day join you.

It would be a beautiful day.

Though, apparently someone was eager to pause that day from occurring as the bars of your cell splintered, the door itself twisting from the hinges with a sickening groan and and an array of cool kisses pecking at your calves.

Hazel eyes hovered before your own, marred fingers grazed your hallowed cheeks, "You don't get to die on me, Princess," he looked about the room, tucking the thin blanket around your body to keep you as warm as he possibly could, "It's time to go home."

A pained cry sounded from your lips and Azriel internally cringed at it, knowing that even cradling you in his arms was bringing you untold amounts of pain, "I know it hurts. I'm sorry, y/n. We don't have much time, I need to get you out of here."

Azriel rose to his feet and curled his wings around you, trying to will some warmth into your trembling form as he stepped into the hallway and kept walking without looking back, paying no mind to the teary eyes of Jovian who was pressed against the bars to his own cell, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes open and full of fight, fingers outstretched and trying to brush against your light for one last time.

As soon as he exited the Prison, Azriel halted, feeling your fingers curl around the skin of his armour. Looking down, he noted the tears in your eyes as you stared up at the calming skies, the clouds splitting to reveal the brightest stars you had ever seen glimmering overhead, "I didn't think I'd ever see them again," your raw voice spoke, and if he looked hard enough, he swore he could see your heart pulsing in your chest.

"You're going to be seeing a lot more beautiful things than this sky," Azriel promised you, holding you a little tighter in his arms, knowing that it was probably going to be the last time he ever could. "I'm going to have to winnow us, okay? It's the only way to create enough distance between us and Rhys."

Nestling further into his arms, you nodded stiffly against his chest, your cheekbone rubbing against his leathers, so sharp that it threatened to split the intricate fabric. Curling his wings tighter around you, Azriel inhaled deeply, and then disappeared from sight, the only sign of his presence being the tint of cedar laced into the air.

Within a few minutes, the winnowing had halted, and your once screwed closed eyes softened as the scent of fresh foliage blossomed within your gut, gently caressing you and whispering to you that you were safe, that home was so close, mere metres away.

Azriel gently placed you on the ground, the grass soft beneath your feet, but he kept his hands on your waist to steady you, to catch you if your knees gave out.

The air felt lighter, teeming with life and the chirps of small creatures, glancing about, you spotted a manor in the distance, shrouded with fresh flowers and vine. "Are we in Spring?"

The Shadowsinger hummed softly in agreement, "Autumn is just over there," he motioned to where a shield of glamour rippled, a sign of the wards of Autumn ready to part and welcome you back, "Can you make it?"

"Yes," you answered instantly, energy flowing to your limbs and loosening the muscles within them. You peered up at Azriel, "Rhys-"

"Had to believe that I was on his side, had to trust me enough to loosen the leash," his brutally marred finger brushed a stray hair behind your ear, "I promised to never hurt you, I intend to keep that promise. I'm sorry for everything that I've done, for letting you believe that I betrayed you. I'm sorry. Rhys had to believe that he was winning, but I should have never allowed it to go this far. I should have protected you, got you out at the first chance I had."

Azriel stumbled back a step as your body collided with his own, winding your arms around his neck and doing your best to contain your wobbling bottom lip, "I forgive you," at the sound of your broken whisper Azriel curled his arms around your frame, allowing his shadows to pepper their love over your shoulders and spine.

It was a tender moment, one full of the unspoken love that had once flowed between you, a love that was still the centre of his universe but that had been replaced in yours. Azriel pulled back, his fingers lingering over the bargain tattoo that wrapped around your bicep, and smiled sadly, "You have to go. Rhys would have been alerted by now, he'll be looking for us."

"He'll kill you."

"Maybe," Azriel shrugged, "But if my death means that you make it out of this alive then it's worth it," the sky rumbled and you felt Rhys' power draw closer, "Go. I'll hold him off. Cross the boarder, go home," Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead and closed his eyes, drinking in everything he could about you before he stepped back and nudged you toward the rippling wards that were already parting for you, almost reaching out to envelope you in their protection.

You couldn't waste a moment, so you turned toward the boarder and willed yourself to not look back as that power rumbling in the skies slammed into the ground behind you. Ignoring the screaming ache in your limbs, you propelled yourself forward, feeling the wind rip through your hair and your skirt glide against your thighs.

A roar sounded behind you, a clash of swords, sinful words and the sickening crunch of bones as bodies smashed into the ground. The wards of Autumn reached for you, wrapping behind your body and urging you forward, and you leapt over the boarder, feeling Autumn welcome you back like a lost lover and solidify the shields around the court.

You spared a glance backward, witnessing Rhys looming over Azriel who was grounded and spitting blood, Truthteller curled in his grip and ready to dispose of the Shadowsinger. A scream ripped through your throat, loud and shrill enough to pull Rhys' attention from Azriel for a singular moment; his gaze shot up to find you, knowing that cry from anywhere, and he rose, going to take another step just as red siphons entered your vision and propelled Rhys through the air.

Cassian moved to Azriel, steadying his brother and muttering something to him, and then you saw Mor, and then Amren, and finally Feyre winnowing onto the field of Spring, all dressed in their leathers and the latter of which turned her head to you and as clear as day, you saw her lips telling you to go.

Stumbling backward, you turned again, moving through the forest and paying little mind to the blood seeping from the bottoms of your feet. A gentle galloping drew near, growing louder with each passing second until his black coat shone in the light and his large eyes found you, approaching you with urgency and softly whimpering as his head nuzzled into your shoulder.

"Hello Axos," your fingers raked through his mane and he lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knee and waiting for you to clamber onto his back, you hitched the hem of your tattered dress around your thighs and swung your leg over his back, leaning your chest against it as he rose from the ground and cantered onward.

Arched branches brushed against your back as though in greeting, small animals peaked up from their stones and hearths to watch you pass by, and the darkening sky sparkled as the last touch of sun vanished from sight. Weakness settled into your bones, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving you exhausted and wincing at every movement Axos made as he carried you through the forest.

The stallion came to a slow stop, craning his neck to tell you that you were safe. Sitting upright, a sob escaped you as you laid eyes on Fir Manor, and you rubbed your eyes to make sure that it was real and not some sort of wicked dream. Sliding from Axos' back, cool cobbled stone greeted you, the warm Autumn wind flowed through your hair and filled you with energy.

You ran down the path, dress billowing behind you, and flew through the oaken door. Part of you had expected to see them all in the seating area, a fire roaring, Nesta curled up reading one of her smutty books, Elain and Lucien cuddling in the corner and comparing the sizes of their hands, and Eris sat reading reports with Willow resting in his lap.

But the manor was cold and dark, the usual fire that roared in the hearth was nothing but ash, the only light that existed was birthed from the moonlight pouring between the curtains. Tugging at the skin around your fingernails, you moved through the house, calling out for Eris and Nesta whilst following the soft tug deep within your soul; you made your way up the stairs and winced at every step, the twisted muscles in your leg causing you more pain than you'd like to admit. You padded down the halls, peeking into each room and feeling warmth pool in your heart, the neatly made beds and the cascade of trinkets that told you which room belonged to each member of your found family causing a faint smile to pull at your lips.

Continuing your search, you used the walls as a crutch, having to pause every few metres to take a deep breath to control the contorting pain in your leg and shoulders. The grating of your chains filled the silence, that, and the sound of your breathless straining as you meandered through the space. You stumbled forward, reaching for a familiar set of doors that upon looking to them caused memories to swirl in the forefront of your mind, memories of opening that same door on a light morning, a certain shirt drowning your figure and whiskey amber orbs trailing up your thighs. Hesitantly, you reach for the handle, taking it between your fingers and pushing the door open to find the same darkness that lingered across the estate, but also a pair of furry ears that had perked up the moment your head curled around the door.

Your shoulders fell lax and you let out a sigh, "Hello Willow," the pup cried and unfurled herself from the ball atop the cream comforter, tail wagging and softly slapping against the sheets, relieved whimpers flowing from her lungs. The hound gingerly nuzzled her snout into your open palm, resting her chin atop it and giving small licks to your wrists, "Have you been looking after him for me, hm?" As if she understood you, she cried once more and saddled up to the edge of the bed, leaning her body into yours and shivering as your hands rubbed small circles into her fur.

It hadn't changed, the room, all that was different was the aroma that clung to the air, of spiced oranges and pine, a tell-tale sign that Eris had tortured himself just to be able the breathe your scent to sleep. His clothes were strewn about the room, lazily draped across the back of the armchair and his riding coat hung on the corner of the mirror where your dress had once swayed. Open books were played over the coffee table, and upon further inspection, you recognised them to be the books that you had read once upon a time when you had been wedged beside him and dousing in his fire.

The windows were wide and welcoming, and you allowed yourself a moment of serenity. You approached the glass panes, fingers running down the lapels of Eris' riding coat before you wrapped your arms around yourself as your eyes scanned the estate, from the quaint ponds to the right to the small garden Elain had erected to the left, and sighed.

As if it were a dream, you heard voices darting about by the treeline, and your weak vision pinpointed the location exactly just as a speckle of red stepped onto the cobbled path. His eyes were frantic and wild, and he inhaled deeply, the scent of you threatening to cripple him to his knees.

Within moments his eyes were darting through the windows, working their way upward until he froze. Eris' eyes faltered, blinking furiously, and he took a single step forward, and that action was enough to make you turn on the balls of your feet and hurtle through the manor, ignoring the screaming in your body as you flew down the stairs and through the halls and seating area until you were flinging the door open and stepping into the moonlight.

Eris stood frozen at the end of the cobbled path, staring straight ahead at you, loosening a breath and eyes watering as you wobbled down the steps, "Eris? Are you listening? She wasn't there, she has to be in the forest somewhere," Nesta appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him lightly, trying to pour some sense into him to get him to turn around. Frustration built within her gut as he continued to stand there, cemented to the ground and staring ahead with features teeming with disbelief, "Eris, what are you-"

Nesta followed his line of sight, her words catching in her throat as her eyes landed on you; Nesta's hand dropped from his arm and she turned slightly, to Lucien and Elain who had also just stepped forward from the treeline.

It was then that Eris realised that it wasn't a dream, that Rhys hadn't somehow infiltrated his mind and filled it with torturous hope. The air was brimming with jasmine and sea salt, though it was laced with pain, of despair so heavy that he was wondering how you were still standing.

The cobbled stones shifted beneath his feet, each step absentmindedly quickening until he was running up the path. The closer he got, the clearer he could see the bags under your eyes that were illuminated by the pale moonlight, the thin arms and tattered skirt, the knotted hair and pallid skin, and the bands of onyx stone wound around your neck and ankles as well as the shackles tying your limbs together.

Before he had even reached you, your face contorted, arms stretching out to meet him as he collided with you, his arms wound around your broken and trembling body, lifting you into the air and burying his nose into the curve of your shoulder.

A sob ripped through you and your body shook, the weight of all that had happened crashing down on you causing a sorrowful scream to split past your lips. Eris sank to the ground with you, his arms not once moving from your body, they ran from your sides to your shoulders, and one hand curled around your head, tugging you into his chest, and Eris rested his chin atop of it, pressed his lips into your hair.

It was meant to be a beautiful moment, but the reality of it was far from beautiful. All you felt was pain, from the shackles digging into your skin to the onyx collar drinking your light, none of your thoughts were making any sense, and all you wanted was to have them off.

"Take them off," your broken voice pleaded, tears falling from your chin and sizzling against the searing skin that was peeling and marred, "Please. Please take them off."

"It's alright," Eris kept on repeating, his tone straining with each time it fell from his lips as you continued to plead, your gut wrenching sobs infecting his bones. Eris took one look into your eyes, and tears that streaked down your cheeks, and curled his fingers around the cuffs, willing them into molten pools of metal atop the cobbles and running his thumbs along the rings around your skin left in their wake.

Eris watched your eyes dart about, as though you were trying to figure out if it was all a hallucination or some cruel nightmare, like you'd blink and you'd be chained back inside the Prison. Eris cupped your face in his hands, his fingers cringing under the roughness of it, and will you to look at him, "You're safe. You're home and you're safe. We all are."

"I'm home?" The voice that asked him was so quiet, so full of doubt and disbelief that it made his features crumble, his bottom lip wobbling.

"You're home, my sweet fawn."

Stones skidded to your side, and gentle fingers rested against your elbow. Nesta smiled sadly at you, equally as horrified as relieved; she shuffled closer, the black velvet of her skirt cushioning her knees, and her fingers grazed over your protruding cheekbones, and you could tell that she was trying not to cringe at the touch, that she was trying not to hurt you.

"Nes," you travelled from Eris' embrace into her arms, resting your head against her sternum and allowing your eyes to drift closed.

Nesta nuzzled her cheek atop your head and locked her arms around you, rubbing soft circles into your spine, "Let's get you inside. How does a bath sound?"

The sound of a lavender soak kissing your muscles and sores made you moan, you nodded gently against her chest and groaned as she moved, securing her hands under your shoulders and lifting you to your feet. Nesta waited there for a moment, head low and eyes pleading you to tell her to stop if it was too much, after a few moments you nodded and leaned into her warmth and strength to lead you back inside.

Eris watched Nesta handle you with care, he too had rose to his feet and trailed behind your form, counting each knot of your spine that peaked out from the ripped dress on your body; but he stopped at the steps, waiting until you had disappeared into the house before turning to Lucien and Elain.

"Elain, would you-" Eris' voice trailed off, his eyes drifting to the ajar door to the manor before moving back to her. Elain, not needing him to finish, squeezed his forearm and lifted the hem of her dress to follow after you, leaving Lucien and Eris in the moonlight.

The two brothers shared a look, one of concern. Helion was right, Rhys had diminished you to an entirely different being, starkly different to the female who had left the Autumn Court late in the night.

"All that matters is that she's back, and that Rhys is far away suffering the same torture he imposed onto her," Lucien was trying to be positive despite the doubt in his mind that you would never be the same, "She'll need time to adjust."

Eris turned to his brother, to the one who had brought some semblance of light to his days without you, "She can have whatever she needs," he told Lucien sternly, doing his best to keep himself from losing his mind and tearing the Night Court to shreds, from decimating the Prison that would haunt your life for eternity.

A faint smile worked its way onto Lucien's lips, and he rested a firm hand on Eris' shoulder, "She's home, Eris."

Humming, Eris exhaled, "Yeah, she is."

The two Vanserra's entered the manor, sealing it shut and working quickly to warm the room, lighting the fire and preparing an array of teas and warming delicacies for you to graze on if you could stomach it. Eris fluffed the pillows and gathered your favourite blankets that he had stuffed away into a cupboard, and he had propped a stack of books on the tabletop, each one whimpering for your touch.

Elsewhere in the manor, you sat in silence, curled with your knees to your chest in the deep set tub of your, or Eris', bedroom. A thick shirt covered your figure, you didn't want anyone to see the body beneath it, but the water and soaps still worked tirelessly to wash away the pain etched onto your skin. Nesta was perched behind you, gingerly conditioning your hair and brushing the concoction through, untangling every knot with her nimble fingers whilst Elain applied healing creams to the brutalised flesh left behind from the shackles that had limited your every movement and thought.

Once they were done and your skin was clear of dirt, ash, and blood, the two Archeron sisters lifted you from the tub and settled you on the edge, drying you off and wrapping bandages around the bridges of your feet, and making sure the most comfortable of Nesta's loungewear drowned your frame.

The soft fabric felt like a luxury as it coiled around you, it glided against your skin and the painless friction made you shudder, like you had just then realised that nothing could hurt you ever again as long as you were in Autumn surrounded by those who adored you.

Nesta fitted the robe around your body, making sure that it fell down your legs and was long enough for you to tuck your feet into once you were sat down.

Before she left, Elain pressed her lips to your cheek, smiling softly against your skin at the colour that had returned there. It was wonderous what a bath could do to a person. Blissfully promising to see you in a few minutes, she slipped from the room and didn't linger.

Moving your gaze from the door to Nesta who was rising from the ground after applying the last of the healing cream to your ankles, you spoke, "He's my mate. Isn't he?"

Nesta shot upright, the small jar of cream tumbling to the ground, "You know?"

"I felt it," your fingers drifted over the spot in your chest that you had forced yourself to ignore for so long, now knowing what it was, "The moment he started running," your brow furrowed and Nesta took a step closer, noticing the wandering thoughtful glint in your darkened eyes, "I think- I think I always knew. When I was there, I felt this tugging, and I tried my best to ignore it but it didn't want to leave," your gaze shifted to her, "It was him, wasn't it?"

Nesta thinned her lips to stop them from quaking and nodded, "Yes. It was," you trailed small swirls atop the fabric of the robe, a soft smile turning the corners of your lips upward, "I think you should speak to Cassian. I know that you left him, that you chose me, but," you picked at your fingernails but she gently took your hands in hers, halting the faint self mutilation in its tracks, "I just think that you should speak to him."

"Alright," a flash of knowing sparked in her eyes and it had you wondering what she had seen, what she knew, but that was a conversation for a different day. Nesta turned her head slightly, grinning at the conversation and warmth floating up through the manor, "Let's go. They're waiting for us."

The manor felt starkly different to how it had when you had first arrived back within it. Warmth coated the walls that were illuminated by golden faelight, soft chatter drifted up the stairs as well as the aroma of herbs and faintly-sweetened citrus, so delicate that it make your stomach grumble in desire. Though, the food wasn't what you were craving.

The weightless padding of your feet down the stairs drew the attention of the room, and Eris was relieved to see you clean and skin nearly glowing despite the rings of onyx that Nesta had done her best to mask, more for you than anyone else. He didn't know how he was going to rid you of them, but he was determined to find a way, so that you didn't have to live with them constantly reminding you of what you had endured. Gaze flickering across the room, you noted the spread of Autumn delicacies and pastries, and your focus faltered when you spied the lemon cake resting in the centre of the table surrounded by an array of steaming teapots.

A gentle brush against your calves pulled your eyes away, and you peered down to see Willow at your side, nose nudging you onward, and it would have been rude to deny her.

The space beside Eris was waiting for you, his arm was slung over the edge of the deep cushioned seat, blankets positioned in such a way that all you would need to do was grab an edge and pull it over your frame. Without thinking, you moved across the room and crawled along the cushions to nestle yourself under his arm, wrapping your arm over his torso and resting your head against his chest to feel his heartbeat against your skin.

Eris sank a little deeper into the cushions, pulling you closer to him and reaching over to drape a blanket over your legs, a thick red wine piece that you had often bundled yourself up in, and smirking when Willow hopped up onto the surface to prop her chin on your thigh.

Eyes drifting open, you caught Lucien in the chair opposite you, he offered you a small smile, one full of promise that everything was going to be alright.

And for the first time, you felt as though it would be.

You returned the sentiment, matching his smile in silent thanks for keeping Eris going for the duration you had been gone, and Lucien caught it, nodding in response.

The tugging in your chest had returned, a gentle knocking on your soul no doubt spurred on by Eris' nose in your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head. Closing your eyes, you opened the door and allowed the bond to complete itself and drown you in all of his love and pain and peace, and you caressed his emotions, balling them up in your essence and soothing them.

At the feeling, Eris gasped, his fingers clenching around your waist and the hand that had been resting on the arm moved to lay on the side of your face.

You know.

Eris' voice sauntered into your mind. The Carranam status of your bond ran deeper than the layers of the world, than the very foundations of life, and the mutter of his voice in your consciousness brought a level of serenity to your soul that you thought you'd never get to feel again.

I know.

To anyone else, the sight before them would be a tender moment between two lost souls, but to you, everything you had ever dreamed of was happening right before your very eyes and within your soul. A mate. A home. A family. A chance of life.

Not needing to say anything else, Eris pressed his lips to your forehead, his fingers caressing your skin and running through your still slightly damp hair, "Would you like some lemon cake? It's your favourite," he told you with a slight tone of teasing, eyes faintly mischievous.

Humming, you glanced to the side to see Elain already sliding a piece of it onto a small plate, the icing shining in the light, and she rose to place it within reach, "Do you even have to ask?"

Author's Note

FINALLY 🥺🥺

Hope this was worth the wait x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmtttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker @julesofvolterra @5onedirection5 @darling006 @coldmermaidhologram @herondale-lightworm @rcarbo1 @babypeapoddd

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 5.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: explicit content: mentions of jerking off and of fingering/cum play

☆word count: 2k

☆a/n: i am drunk have fun i love jin <3

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been confused. He’s been confused since he woke up tangled up in bed with you, remembering the events of the night before. Remembering the feeling of you on his dick - how right it felt, yet how wrong it was.

It was wrong, because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You aren’t supposed to be together like that. Hell, without Taehyung, your paths would have never crossed. So he pulled away. Locked himself in a dark part of his mind, some place he doesn’t want you to ever set foot in, and he forced himself to distance himself from you. 

He knows you noticed. Maybe that’s why, when the power came back on, he didn’t immediately leave like he originally thought he would. But when you teased him from crying over the anime you watched, he knew your time was over.

No matter how much he didn’t want it to be. 

Does he blame you for growing annoyed? No. He understands. He understands why you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. He thinks he deserves it, yet when he sees you at the library during his shift, he can’t help the way his heartbeat picks up in his chest, recognizing you for what you are.

Something he’ll never dare name.

So maybe it’s on purpose that he steps in your way when you’re walking out of the library. Maybe it’s to see what you’ll do, if you’ll speak the words he so desperately wanted you to say when he said it was time to go back to normal. Words he’ll also never dare think, because what if Taehyung knows?

What if Taehyung knows and he simultaneously loses his best friend and you?

Jungkook meets your gaze, a smile reaching for his lips, though he doesn’t let it reach its destination. Your friend Ria snorts, and Jungkook steps aside, frowning slightly. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks slowly turn red, even more so as you say, “Ignore her.”

His eyes find yours again. “Noted,” he lets out, and then it’s like the moment is stretching. It’s like it’s you and him alone in the library, Ria fading out of focus. He can almost imagine the power being out, and the bubble you’d been wrapped in still floating around the two of you.

But the bubble bursts when a girl speaks next to him - Allison, he thinks - though he reckons the bubble probably burst when he told you you should pretend nothing ever happened.

Allison says she needs help, and he has no reason to refuse considering that it’s part of his job, so he has to walk away, unable to tell you anything more. 

To his surprise, you don’t get home until much later that evening, while he’s a beer and a half in with Jimin, playing video games to decompress after work. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat, and he finds himself asking, “Done studying?”

You nod as you shrug, saying, “I can’t retain any more information. My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Maybe I could help with that,” he teases you, if only so that he can see that blush on your cheeks again.

The one that almost makes him forget that your brother is Taehyung.

Almost.

“You wish, JK.”

He does. He fucking does, and it’s all kinds of stupid that he does. Especially as Jimin is right there, hidden in the bathroom.

“Want a beer?” Jungkook asks even though he knows he shouldn’t. He just doesn’t want you to disappear in your room, not when you’re finally talking to him again. 

Jimin intervenes before you answer, convincing you to indeed share a beer with them, and a few seconds later, you’re joining Jungkook in the living room while Jimin goes to fetch a beer for you and him. You sit on Jungkook’s left, as far as you possibly can, and his heart does that weird thing again. It makes him feel awkward, and he clenches his jaw.

“Feel free to grab this if you get cold,” he says, motioning to the blanket on the table, if only so that he can cut through the awkwardness. He offers you a smile, gaze meeting yours, but you gulp as you look away.

“We should talk about…” you whisper.

His heart rate increases so suddenly he thinks he might be about to go into cardiac arrest. “What about it?”

You shoot him a warning glance, probably because it’s likely that Jimin heard, and it settles Jungkook’s heart in his chest. It makes no sense, especially not to himself, and he offers you a smirk. 

You blush, and he thinks he’s floating, but then Jimin walks out of the kitchen, interrupting the moment. He falls back down to Earth, and when Jimin suggests watching Attack on Titan, Jungkook finds himself saying.

Maybe because your gravity is pulling him in, and he doesn’t want the distraction of having to focus on a game. Hell, he’s not even sure he’d be able to focus - all he manages to do as the anime advances is lean infinitely closer to you. 

Action speaks louder than words, he reckons, because he finds himself half-sprawled on you, and it feels like heaven. For this peaceful moment, he doesn’t care that Jimin is right there, eyeing you suspiciously. He’s just happy to be with you, and he thinks it’ll have to suffice.

Jimin leaves right as the episode ends, claiming Sera is waiting for him. Jungkook knows that she isn’t - she was with Lisa tonight, but he won’t call Jimin out. Not when he thinks it might be because Jimin wants to leave you two alone, something he’s been craving more than he thought he did.

“So,” Jungkook lets out when Jimin has left. “You wanted to talk?”

His heart immediately starts beating wildly in his chest, and he disguises it by tilting his head to the side in what he hopes is an innocent gesture.

You nod once. “Yes.”

His heartbeat is so loud he barely can even hear you say the simple word, yet he replies, “I’m listening.”

“What should we do about Taehyung?”

The question lands like a blow to the face, and he sucks in a breath as regrets swirl within him. “Nothing.” He has to force the next sentence out, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. “We just pretend nothing happened, no?”

You don’t like it. He can tell that you don’t - you stiffen, turning ashen. 

“Is that what you want?” you ask.

No. Not at all. Not in a million years. But it’s the only possible outcome, so he hides his hands in the pockets of his pants, if only to hide the slight tremble that’s taken over them, tremble that he’s able to keep to a minimum, unaffecting his voice.

“Yeah. I don’t see why it would need to be a big deal,” he says.

But it is. It’s a big deal, and he never realized how good of an actor he is before today.

“It’s not a big deal,” you mutter. “‘I’m not trying to make it into a big deal.”

He’s an asshole, he knows he is. Rotten to the bone, as he says, “Right,” a smirk on his lips.

You’re annoyed. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. “No, for real,” you insist. “If you want us to just pretend that nothing happened, then we do that.”

He doesn’t want it, but isn’t it the safest option? Isn’t it saving you both the embarrassment and heartbreak that Taehyung would cause you if he knew?

“You awfully sound like that’s not what you want,” he forces himself to say, though he hopes you can hear the true meaning in his words. That it isn’t what he wants, though he can’t say it aloud. 

“I just don’t want things to get weird.” You pause, and then add, “Since we live together.”

On that Jungkook can reassure you. He’d never let things grow weird between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about it, peach,” he says. “I won’t make things weird.”

Yet, as he says the words, something aches. Especially as the silence stretches while you hold each other’s gaze until your eyes fall to the beer in your hand. Jungkook almost wants to tell you to look at him, to never stop looking at him.

Instead, he heads towards his room, wishing you good night over his shoulder.

*****

Emily is a nice girl. She’s gorgeous, Jungkook is entirely aware of it, yet he doesn’t find in her eyes what he’s looking for.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to find it again. Not when he sees you walking into the bar, carrying yourself with that gentle elegance that attracts the gaze. You eye him up and down, and then glance away. He follows your line of gaze to notice Hoseok walking towards you, and something very ugly settles deep in his chest as he watches Hoseok pressing a kiss on your temple. Jungkook clenches his jaw, and then forces himself to focus on Emily, even though he’d rather not be stuck with her right now.

And he remains stuck for a while until she says she has to go to the bathroom. He doesn’t miss it for the invitation that it is, yet he ignores it, telling her he’ll wait for her at the bar.

Especially considering that you’re in his vicinity again, talking to a long-haired blond guy, and you look uncomfortable as all hell. It shows in the tense spread of your shoulders, and in the way your eyes keep darting to the side. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, stepping closer.

“I realized that none of them compared to you,” Jungkook hears as he stops behind you, and his heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest at the blatant flirting. 

You take a step back, bumping into Jungkook, and he asks, “Hey, everything okay here?”

You meet his gaze, your eyes panicked, and Jungkook moves closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, trying to reassure you. The guy scoffs, and Jungkook holds you a little tighter, only because he can.

“You’re fucking your brother’s friend?” he asks.

Jungkook almost wants to say ‘What about it?’, but you push him off of you, and he stumbles back, eyes going round.

“I am not,” you spit, and it hurts far more than it should. “Maybe he just tried to step in because you can’t fucking take a clue, can you?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence as Jungkook finds himself stifling a surprised laugh.

“Excuse me?” the guy eventually says.

“You heard the lady,” Jungkook intervenes. “Fuck off.”

The seething look you throw Jungkook’s way almost makes him cower from how unexpected it was. 

“I don’t fucking need your help,” you throw at him.

Something definitely aches now, and Jungkook frowns, watching as you slightly shake your head, an apologetic look on your features. But he’s stunned silent, stunned realizing how much he wanted to protect you.

How you didn’t want him to protect you. Because why would you? He only fucked you once because the circumstances aligned for it, and now he’s told you you should pretend nothing happened.

He barely minds the animosity then. He thinks he deserves it. So when Emily pulls on his arm, telling him she’s been waiting for him, and then adding for just him to hear that Eunwoo, one of his close friends, is throwing up in the hallway next to the bathroom, Jungkook finds himself following her.

Even though all his instincts tell him to stay with you.

Much later that night, after Jungkook has gotten drunk alone back at the apartment after dropping Eunwoo off at his, Jungkook stares at the text he sent you.

It sits unanswered, and Jungkook thinks, maybe he is the problem after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

hihihi i am actually very drunk but i hope you guys liked it!! please let me know what you think about the drabble and about our baby simp jungkook

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[maxwellatoms]

I bought a Gartenmeister Fuchsia plant for my birthday back in January. It was a centerpiece all winter long, but recently it started looking a bit sickly. I'm not a "green" gerdener anymore (haha), but I am also by no means a master. I think it was infected with powdery mildew, but I also convinced myself it was spider mites. I try to keep things all -natural out there, so I dried it out and sprayed it with some neem oil after pruning it back a bit. I really should've pruned off all of the infected bits, but I didn't want to lose the flowers.

I did that a few more times, unable to commit to a hard prune because I kept telling myself "I don't know what I'm doing, so maybe it's not sick. Maybe it'll fix itself. Sure would be nice to have those flowers back." I finally gave up and cut it to the bone yesterday, but yesterday was too late. I had to remove every single leaf because I dithered for too long. It's probably not going to make it.

I feel the same way about our culture. US culture. Western culture (though its really a global problem). The Entertainment Industry. The Media. It's sick. We probably need some rather serious surgery to fix the problem, but we just will not see a doctor. To see a doctor would be to admit there's a problem, and for some that is the greatest sin of the 21st Century. Maybe some of us are just hoping the system will recover on its own so we can have our pretty flowers back.

For me, it was around 2010 or so when I first started to smell something "off". The symptoms had certainly been around a while. This was just when I noticed. This was when I got my first, "Hey, let's not make fun of corporations" note. It's when The History Channel stopped airing stuff about history in favor of aliens because that's where the money was. And rather than rebranding, they just left it as "History", encouraging future generations to believe whatever they felt like. This was also about when traditional news outlets started skewing to clickbait in order to compete with sites that were clearly 100% not legitimate news sites. Again, as long as the money is right it's "just entertainment" and you' can're welcome to believe it if it means you'll watch more.

I'm all-in on Dead Internet Theory now. The disparity between what major news media outlets will report and what you see from actual people on Tumblr or Threads or Reddit is pretty shocking. And those sites are already compromised by bots and bad actors. The tools exist now to actively bamboozle millions of people, and I have no doubt we're already seeing some of this now. In six months or a year you'll find out it (whatever it was) never happened or was generated by an LLM. The time to stop listening to anyone online was a year ago.

Trust no one.

Not even me!

It's cultural rot. It's spreading faster and faster, and I'm not sure what happens when we get to the end of this ride. Actually, I AM sure what happens. If we don't prune back hard now, then the rot takes over. Best-case, you clip the infected branches off too late and it takes years to recover. Worst case? Nature soldiers on but the plant succumbs to infection and dies completely, replaced (eventually) by something that can actually hack it in that spot.

When humans produce art and information, and then comment on that art and information by producing more art and information, we call it "culture". We're moving toward a time when the vast majority of art and ideas we get out eyes on won't be created by humans. Or at the very least won't be created with the purpose of commenting on or enriching the organic human experience. When that happens, what will we call it? What will remain of our culture?

[seulrinnie-rinrin]

Craving You

SUMMARY | When you accidently send a nude of yourself to Jongho, he can't help but look and start to crave you. The only thing standing in his way: your friendship. PAIRING | Jongho/Reader GENRE | non-idol!Jongho, friends to lovers trope, smut with no plot, protected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, RATING | Mature LENGTH | 5066 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | I’m such a sucker for the Friends to Lovers Trope lolol.

Jongho didn't mean to look.

But that picture you sent him was just so… You were looking at the camera like you'd never seen it before. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin was glowing in the light, as if it had never been more alive. And the fact that your fingers were grazing the top of your panties…

If that wasn't enough to turn any man's head, then nothing ever would be. He hadn't meant for this to happen—hadn't even intended on seeing it when he took a quick glance at his phone while checking his messages—but there it was, staring back at him, tempting him, teasing him with those dark eyes, and suddenly, he couldn't help but want it.

More than anything, Jongho wanted to see your body moving beneath him. Wanted to know what color you tasted like. What it felt like to touch every inch of you, slowly working his way down from your lips until he found himself between your legs. Then, after giving you everything he had to give, he would do whatever it took to make sure that you never forgot this moment, no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Forbidden, because you're both supposed to be friends, and also because he should never want to take something that doesn't belong to him. But when he realizes that all of these things are exactly why he wants you so much, it becomes impossible to deny his true feelings for you.

He dropped his phone on the bed beside him and leaned against the headboard, trying desperately to think of something else besides the thought of running his tongue over the hot spot where your clit sat, letting his teeth gently graze its sensitive edges. If he could just get some sleep, maybe by morning, the desire would be gone. Or at least, the temptation. But the second he closed his eyes, all he could see was you: face flushed, thighs spread, red lips parted as he licked his way up from your clit to your mouth. All he could hear was your moans as he pushed his fingers inside of you, pumping them deep into your pussy and moaning as he watched your muscles tighten around them. All he could feel was the warmth radiating off of your naked body as he buried his face between your breasts, inhaling your scent until he had finally made you cum.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong. So, so, wrong. It wouldn't be right for either one of you.

His phone vibrated and he saw a text message from you come through, and though he really shouldn't read it, Jongho had a feeling that if he ignored it, it might not go away. Not that he knew what he would say anyway; all he knew was that he needed to talk to you about this, and he needed to do it now.

So he picked up his phone again and opened the message:

You - OMG Jongho! That picture wasn't meant for you! I swear, I totally meant to send it to Yunho. Please delete?!

His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes tightly. Of course you would have sent it to Yunho. Why wouldn't you? After all, the two of you were hooking up with each other. You told Jongho that it was no strings attached relationship, that Yunho just wanted to be friends with benefits.

But Jongho knew you. He knew that you were crushing on Yunho and had been for a long time. He also knew that the two of you didn't just hook up once or twice. No, you had hooked up a lot. Way more times than he cared to count. The two of you might have been dating, for all Jongho cared. You were lying to yourself if you believed otherwise.

Not that he was mad. Well, actually, yes, he was mad. But not at you. Mostly at himself for getting sucked into this. For allowing himself to fall for someone who had been nothing but his friends for years. But he was tired of fighting this attraction. Tired of pretending that it didn't exist. So, he turned off his phone and tossed it across the room, cursing silently as it hit the wall and bounced onto the floor.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would just ignore it. Ignore you. See if that helped. He hated to admit it, but his feelings for you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. They were there in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, the blush rising in your cheeks whenever he looked at you too long, the way your voice trailed off when he asked you questions, and the small sparkle in your eyes whenever you looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He liked being close to you.

He sighed and picked up his phone, opening his messages and typing out a quick response:

Jongho - Out of sight and out of mind. I deleted it. Don't worry about it.

Then, he turned his phone off and put it back on the nightstand. He tried to fall asleep but the thought of you naked was already ingrained in his brain.

In your defense, you weren't entirely in your right mind when you sent Jongho that picture. You had meant to send it to Yunho but somehow managed to type in the wrong person's name, hitting send before you realized your mistake. It must have been the wine you drank earlier that day. Maybe it was the multiple glasses of wine that you had consumed throughout the night. Whatever the reason, by the time you figured out your error, the message was already sent. There was no taking it back.

And when you got Jongho's message saying that he deleted it, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. Just thinking about it made you sigh in relief, and when you woke up in the middle of the night with wet dreams about the two of you fucking, the guilt from sending that picture plagued you for hours.

"Ugh," you groaned, pulling the blankets over your head and ignoring the pounding in your head. "Just shut up."

Your head ached too much to care about your stupid hormones, so you rolled over and let yourself slip back into a restless slumber, hoping that when you woke up tomorrow, you would be able to forget about what you had done last night. Unfortunately, the thought that was playing on repeat in your mind refused to leave you alone, and soon, you were tossing and turning restlessly as images of you and Jongho romping together filled your thoughts.

"Shit!" you swore loudly as you sat up in bed, throwing your pillow to the ground. How could you think of your best friend in that way? You never had thoughts of Jongho that way before. Sure, you enjoyed hanging out with him, and there were days when you wished you could crawl into his lap and spend hours listening to him tell you stories or sing. You enjoyed teasing him mercilessly and getting to witness the smile on his face when you succeeded. But sexual fantasies involving him? Those were completely new territory.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" you cried, covering your face with your hands. God, you needed to get a grip. Maybe it's the alcohol. Yeah, it had to be the alcohol. Maybe you should call up Yunho and have him just fuck you senseless so that you forget about those fantasies of Jongho. Get it out of your system. Make yourself forget. Surely that would work. Right?

No, that wasn't going to work. Although it was an accident that you sent that nude, you couldn't help but think of what Jongho thought. Did he like it? Did he enjoy the view? Could he imagine what you looked like naked? Were his dreams filled with the two of you, pleasuring each other? Was he jerking off right now thinking about what it would be like to have your pussy wrapped around his-

Nononono. You needed to get a grip. You headed towards the shower, determined to rinse your body clean and pretend that last night never happened.

After a shower and exhausted beyond belief, you went about your day. You met up with the guys, wishing that Jongho wasn't there because you didn't want to crawl into an embarrassing hole. When they suggested that you have a few drinks with them, you gladly agreed, deciding to keep it casual. This was probably a good idea. A little drink here and there would probably take the edge off of those bad thoughts about your best friend.

"Something happened between you two?" Hongjoong asked as he looked over at you and Jongho. The both of you were sitting on opposite ends of the table, avoiding each other's gazes.

"Ya'll acting weird." Mingi muttered, leaning forward on the table. "The best friends aren't even sitting next to each other. Something happened, didn't it?"

"What happened?" San asked next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You hesitated for a minute and let out a sigh, leaning to whisper in his ear. "I accidently sent Jongho a nude photo last night."

San froze for a second before dropping his hand from your shoulder and shaking his head in laughter. "No way. You're serious?"

You eyed Jongho, realizing that he got up to use the restroom. "I didn't mean to send it to him. I accidentally typed his name instead of Yunho's."

Hongjoong laughed softly, nodding his head. "Well, damn girl. I guess we know why he was looking so depressed today."

"Hush." You muttered, the rest of the table going into fits of laughter. You hid your face behind your hands, waiting for the laughing to die down before you explained the situation to everyone. When they finished laughing, you spoke. "Listen, this is just an unfortunate accident. He's already deleted it. We just need to get through this week, okay? I'm sure things will calm down after that."

"Yeah, don't worry," Wooyoung said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Things always get better after this."

They nodded their heads and when Jongho returned to the table, he just sat down and resumed talking with the others without acknowledging you.

You knew it would be okay by next week. You always had random fights with Jongho and it was usually resolved by next week. That's what friends did. They argued. They fought. Then, they made up and everything was fine again.

Why couldn't you just give him the benefit of the doubt this time?

Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, Jongho leaned back in his chair as he watched you joke with the rest of the guys. Your hair was wet, curling slightly under the lights of the bar as you shook your head in amusement. He stared at you for a while, wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through your hair. To kiss your forehead. To watch you sleep.

And then he snapped out of it.

Looking at you now, you appeared so happy and carefree, despite what had happened earlier. Jongho bit his lip as he stared at you, feeling his heart beat erratically against his chest. What the hell was happening to him? One minute, he had been angry at you and angry at himself for giving in to temptation and wanting you. Now, he couldn't stop staring at you and he didn't know how to act around you anymore.

"Are you going crazy?" Yunho asked him, as they both watched you in an animated conversation with Seonghwa and Yeosang.

"What?" Jongho blinked in surprise, having forgotten that Yunho was there. "No, I'm not going crazy."

"Sure you aren't." Yunho muttered. "Seeing any kind of nude of your best frien-"

"She was supposed to send it to you, you know?" Jongho cut in before his friend could say anything else. "She mixed up her names and sent it to me instead."

"It doesn't matter who she sent it to." Yunho shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like we're dating or anything. She could've sent it to anyone."

Wooyoung sighed. "Jongho, bro. Who cares who sent it to? Y/N isn't dating any of us. You ended up being the recipient. Things happen."

Hongjoong nodded, patting him on the back. "So who cares if you saw a nude picture of your best friend? Why does it bother you?"

"Because..." Jongho trailed off as he frowned, realizing that none of them really understood what he was going through. "I like her."

Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Yunho all exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

"Well that changes everything." Hongjoong said, clapping his hands together. "So what are you gonna do?"

"About what?" Jongho shot him a confused glance, which caused the rest of them to burst into more laughter.

"Don't be dense," Yunho mumbled, holding his stomach as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Why don't you ask her out? Have a date with her? Show her how much you care?"

"I do care." Jongho replied softly. "A lot."

"But does she?" Wooyoung countered. "Does Y/N like you? Or does she only like you as a friend?"

Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung's arm. "Stop! Don't say that! We're trying to cheer Jongho up here, remember? Don't make it worse."

"Do you think I stand a chance?" Jongho whispered. "Will she actually agree to go out with me?"

Yunho smirked. "As long as you're willing to admit your feelings for her, I'm sure she'll agree to go out with you."

"Really?" Jongho asked hopefully.

Yunho gave him a nod. "I've seen how she looks at you. And hey, she talks about you all the time when we're together. Kind of made me jealous, if I'm being honest."

"I think I may have a shot." Jongho breathed out slowly, relieved.

"Go for it, man." Wooyoung added, smiling at him. "You deserve happiness. If Y/N makes you happy, you gotta grab it."

"We're rooting for you." Yunho smiled as he patted him on the back. "Remember, the worst thing that can happen is rejection."

Jongho nodded his head, understanding exactly what Yunho meant. While he desperately wanted Y/N to say yes, he also worried that she might turn him down. There was no way to prepare for such a thing, especially since they'd been best friends for so long. If Y/N turned him down, he'd hate himself for wanting her so badly, and he'd hate himself for doing something that would cause her pain.

No, he needed to stop worrying.

He glanced over at you again, watching you laugh with the rest of the group. Watching you made his heart flutter and the nerves that had settled in his stomach started to dissolve away. For some reason, seeing you smile and appear happy again made it easier for him to breathe.

Jongho took a deep breath and stood up, making his way over to where you were seated. Seeing you sitting with the rest of the guys, he wondered whether he should sit down or not. After what seemed like forever, Jongho took his seat across from you, his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he took in every detail about you, trying to memorize you.

"Jongho, you wouldn't believe this crazy story that Mingi was telling us." You exclaimed, taking a sip of your beer. "It sounds like something straight out of a soap opera."

"Oh yeah?" Jongho teased. "So, what's this ridiculous plot?"

"Hmm...well, basically..." Mingi began but Jongho drowned out his voice as he hesitantly reached for your hand. Taking your fingers in his own, he looked at you to see your reaction. After several seconds, you didn't pull away, allowing him to hold onto your hand. "The main character and the secondary characters meet and end up falling in love. It's full of drama and emotion and lots of crying and whining."

Jongho grinned, his entire body relaxing at the warmth radiating from your skin. "Is that how love stories normally go?"

"Pretty much." Mingi admitted. "I wish my love life could be like that though. No headaches or misunderstandings. Just love and happiness."

"Me too." Jongho breathed out, squeezing your hand gently.

Mingi, Yeosang, San, and Seonghwa couldn't help but notice the way Jongho was holding your hand. They all noticed the way his eyes kept wandering to yours and the way his expression was almost desperate. Even they couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he thinking about asking you out?

After several minutes, they gathered into a conversation, leaving you and Jongho out of it. But when they left to get more drinks, leaving the two of you alone, you found yourself leaning towards him, hoping that he would lean in too.

"Jongho?" You whispered softly. He turned his head to stare at you, your gaze locking onto his. "Can I ask you something?"

Jongho swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of you. He wanted nothing more than to drag you close and kiss you senseless. So he nodded, trying to find the words to say to you.

"What?"

"Did you...what were you thinking about...when I sent you that picture?" You looked at him, uncertainty in your eyes. He wished that you weren't looking at him with those sad eyes of yours. Those sad eyes made him want to make it all better.

"About what?" Jongho croaked out.

"Last night. When I sent you that picture by accident." You paused, placing your hand over his. "Were you thinking about me?"

Jongho looked down at your hand resting on his and then raised his gaze back up to your face. "Of course I was thinking about you. How could I not?" He placed his other hand over top of yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I..." You took a deep breath, as you waited for him to reply. "We're friends and friends don't think of each other like that. Right?"

"Do you still want to be friends?" Jongho asked you, squeezing your hands. "Because I don't want our friendship to change because of this. Not when I...I want more."

"More?" You repeated softly.

"Yeah." Jongho closed his eyes tightly, unsure if you were going to agree to go out with him. "I want us to become more than just friends. After seeing that picture, my mind has been flooded with thoughts of you. Thoughts that friends shouldn't have of each other. Thoughts of kissing you and touching you and..."

He never got to finish speaking once he felt your lips on his. His entire body tingled as your lips pressed against his, causing a fire to burn within him. Without warning, Jongho crushed his mouth against yours, forcing your lips apart and claiming your lips with his own. His heart was racing, his mind consumed by the need to kiss you again. To feel your soft lips against his own, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his. To feel the sparks that he knew were running between you.

"Yeah..." You breathed out. "I've had those thoughts too...of kissing you and touching you and..." Your voice drifted off, as Jongho captured your lips with his again. Your hands ran up his arms, sending chills throughout his body.

"God, my eyes. My poor eyes!" You heard Wooyoung gasp behind you. "Go get a room already!"

"Shut up!" You laughed loudly, pulling away from Jongho. Jongho let out a laugh, pulling you up from your seat so he could wrap his arms around you.

"Should we...go to my place now?" He whispered into your ear.

"Yes." You gasped.

"Ohhhh." San let out a laugh. "I knew this was going to happen."

Yeosang nodded next to him. "Ahhhh, young love. Too cute."

"Have fun, stay safe and use protection." Hongjoong called out, earning another round of laughter.

"Just shut up and leave us alone." You yelled back, giving them all a wave.

"Bye!" Mingi shouted, raising his glass in the air. "See you later!"

They all waved goodbye as you and Jongho hurried out of the lounge, weaving your way through the crowd. As soon as the doors closed behind you, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He kissed you one more time before leading you out of the parking lot, heading towards his apartment.

"Home sweet home." He sighed happily, leading you inside and closing the door behind him. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "So where were we?"

"Kissing..." You breathed out, staring into his dark brown eyes.

Jongho chuckled, bringing his lips closer to yours. His entire body tingled at the mere thought of kissing you again. Of feeling your lips on his. Feeling the heat of your body pressed against his own. It was all he ever wanted. All he ever dreamed about. All he ever hoped for.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, barely grazing your mouth with his. He lingered there for several seconds before drawing back slightly.

"What thoughts did you have of me?" You ask him, breaking the silence.

Jongho smiled, reaching his free hand up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good ones." He whispered, trailing his finger along your cheek. "Thoughts of you lying naked in bed, letting me explore every inch of your body."

"And what else?" You purred, pushing your body against him.

"Ohhh..." Jongho moaned softly. "Those naughty thoughts of mine involve..."

He trailed off as you brought your hand up to his mouth, planting light kisses against his palm.

"Tell me." You breathed out, closing your eyes. "Please."

"I was thinking about what it would be like having you underneath me." He let out. "I was thinking about how good it would feel to feel your soft skin under my fingertips. How good it would feel to have you pressing against me, begging me to fill you with my cock. How hot and wet your pussy would be and how amazing it would feel to make you come."

"Yes." You moaned, grinding against him.

"Ohhh." Jongho groaned, pressing his lips against yours again. "I want you so bad."

You shivered, breaking away from his lips. "Me too. So much." You bit your lip. "I can't wait any longer."

Jongho nodded, moving towards his bedroom, leading you along the way. "Well, let's hurry up and do something about that." He murmured, pulling you closer to him as he pushed open the door.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, trapping you against the wall. Leaning forward, he brought his lips back to yours, crushing his mouth against yours roughly. Your knees buckled slightly as he pressed himself against you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Jongho broke away from your kiss long enough to rip your shirt open, throwing it aside.

"I can't wait anymore either." He breathed out. "I need to touch you. Need to feel your body pressed against mine. Want to taste your lips again."

Jongho's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before biting down gently. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth travelled downwards, nipping and sucking along your collarbone. His lips pressed harder against your skin, making your entire body tingle.

"God..." You moaned out. "Jongho..."

"Need to feel you underneath me." Jongho continued, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts. "God...you feel so fucking good against me."

"Don't stop." You breathed out.

He smiled as he reached his hands down to unhook your bra, throwing it aside. As soon as your breasts came into view, Jongho's lips immediately latched onto your nipple.

He sucked on your nipple gently, eliciting a moan from you. As he did this, he brought his hand up to caress your other breast. As he played with your nipples, you began to feel a familiar ache building within you. With a groan, you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asked you, worried about your reaction.

"Y-yeah." You answered quickly, biting your lip as your body became even more sensitive. "Just...just feels so good."

Jongho nodded, continuing to suckle on your breast while massaging your other one. His fingers moved across your chest, teasing the sides of your breast, slowly working their way up until they reached your chin. With a slight flick of his wrist, he tilted your head up towards him.

With one quick motion, he brought his lips to meet yours, his tongue darting past your lips to dance with yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping them both locked in place as he began to trail his fingers down your body. One hand slid down to your stomach, tickling you softly.

The other hand found its way back up to your breast, pinching your nipple lightly as his thumb rolled it between his fingers. Your whole body tingled at the feeling of pleasure coursing through you.

Jongho pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath. "Do you want me to stop?" He asked you softly.

"No." You shook your head. "Don't stop."

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly before pulling his hand away. Reaching down, he slid your pants off your hips, allowing them to fall to the floor. "Like this?" He breathed out, leaning down to capture your lips with his once again.

You let out a moan as his fingers slipped between your legs, stroking you gently as his lips traveled down your neck. Once his lips met your chest, he nibbled on your skin lightly. You felt your body tighten slightly at the touch of his tongue as it traced your clavicle.

"God..." You breathed out, pushing yourself closer to him.

"Does it feel good?" He asked you, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Ohhh...so good." You moaned, running your fingers through his hair. "Fuck...please don't stop."

"Don't worry." Jongho promised, returning his attention to your neck. "This is just getting started."

With that said, Jongho slowly lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He then took his boxers off, leaving himself completely naked in front of you. He stood straight, facing you as you watched him intently. When he saw that you were looking at him, he placed his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes bore into yours as he leaned down, capturing your lips with his once again. His fingers trailed down your cheek, cupping your jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

Once your lips parted, Jongho wasted no time deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he forced his tongue into your mouth. With each passing second, your passion grew, causing you to grab hold of his arms, gripping them tightly as he thrust his tongue against yours. Your entire body was now tingling with desire, begging for release.

Jongho broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as he looked into your eyes. He ran his hands down your thighs, parting them and then grabbing one of the condoms from his nightstand drawer. Opening the package, he sheathed himself with ease, preparing himself to enter you.

"Are you ready?" He breathed out.

"Mmm..." You breathed out. "Yes...please."

"Good." He replied before pressing his lips to yours once again.

With one final glance into your eyes, Jongho lowered himself down, positioning himself between your legs. He raised himself up slightly, pausing for a moment as he searched your eyes. Your fingers twined themselves into his hair as you waited patiently for him to move. After a few moments, he began to slide into you. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"Ahhh...." You moaned loudly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

Jongho hummed as he continued to thrust into you. Every movement caused a new wave of sensation to wash over you. You had never felt anything quite like it. You couldn't believe how incredible it felt. He brought his lips back to your ear, whispering softly.

"You feel so good." He moaned. "So damn good."

Your legs tightened around his hips as he began to speed up his movements. His lips grazed your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He whispered, causing you to moan again.

"Jongho...oh god..." You breathed out, digging your fingernails into his shoulders.

Jongho closed his eyes, feeling the heat radiating from your body. He knew how badly you needed him. He knew that you were dying to come. And he could tell by the noises escaping your throat that you were close to climaxing. All he had to do was continue to pump his hips, slowly increasing the pace. In a matter of seconds, he would drive you over the edge. That thought alone made him harder than ever.

In response to the sound of his name coming from your lips, Jongho picked up the pace even further, pressing his lips firmly against your ear.

"Come for me, baby." He growled out, pushing even deeper into you. "Come hard for me."

With those words, Jongho's hips began to slam into you faster and faster. Soon enough, he felt your walls clamp down around his cock, holding him there, preventing him from pulling out. With another moan, he exploded inside of you, filling the condom with his semen. Once he finished, he pulled out of you, breathing heavily. Your eyes remained fixed on him, watching him as he pulled the used condom off of his cock. He tossed it to the side before lowering himself to the mattress beside you.

You flipped him over, moving to straddle him as you kissed him deeply. As you did this, you could feel his hardening cock beneath you. You smirked, bringing your lips back to his ear.

"Guess we're not done yet." You whispered seductively. "I'll let you fuck me raw if you keep going."

With a grin, Jongho grabbed your ass, squeezing it tightly as he slid into you. "Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want."

[lightlycareless]

Naoya's reaction when y/n's thighs expand 3 times its size when she sits down. For my girlie's that have thick thighs 🙏🙏 plus me. Serious insecurity but damn wouldn't that be Naoya's 2nd favourite thing after tiddies. Definitely would give some criticism that y/n don't exercise enough and that's why her thighs are like that,but would br also smother his face between her thighs? Yes

Hello anon!!

Ngl when I first read this ask (the beginning) I was like HUH? But then I read the rest and was like ugh same. I kind of relate to what you feel, that plus chafing and what not 💀

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this debauched piece. :) ehehehe dunno what was going through my head but I liked it.

warnings: NSFW. THOUGH NOT DETAILED, THERE'S SMUT. MINORS DNI. Naoya and the Zen'in are perverts, some more explicit than others. Also misogynistic views, unwanted commentary about bodies.

Happy reading!

You know what I was thinking?

Naoya being so obsessed with your body, that the moment he sees you he doesn’t even bother to make formal introductions or anything; nope.

He just needed to see you sit down one time, one time, unwittingly getting a very detailed look of how your thighs just become bigger underneath your skirt, alongside the adorably cute way you attempted to tug the edge down to avoid revealing too much (Naoya had seen more than enough at that point, of course he did.) and that was it for him to know you’d be the perfect wife.

So, fast forward a few weeks, after making the right arrangements, you’re effectively married to him, “happily” living in the Zen’in estate, where he can keep an eye on you, close to whenever he might need to make use of your wifely commitments—but most importantly, underneath constant scrutiny that not even your role as future Lady of the House could save you from.

The torments you’re subjected to here aren’t ones you haven’t heard before, in fact, you’ve heard enough of them to not care anymore…

But perhaps being married to Naoya, something that many cautioned would probably never happen due to your appearance, was enough to finally make them hurt.

His family just couldn’t… wrap their mind around the fact that from all women in the world, literally anyone else, he chose you: the epitome of laziness as they’d like to say. The sheer example of not being able to control one’s selfish desires in favor of temporary satisfaction.

In a world where thinner, athletic physiques were encouraged, you sure stood out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t your fault, though. Some people were simply born that way, with different genetics and there was nothing wrong with that.

But to them, that was not enough of an excuse, if there ever was one; and once you heard for the last time how Naoya was simply tolerating you because, well, because of some unknown reason, you had enough.

You were tired of constantly hearing them belittling your worth, comparing you to whichever woman they brought along to hopefully convince Naoya into divorcing you—or at least sow his seeds on a more suitable candidate; a fact made worse when he seemingly didn’t put a resistance to their invitations, chipping away at your confidence.

And above all, you were exhausted of unwittingly highlighting the faults in your relationship, the clear signs that Naoya was never truly happy with you, such as those scarce moments of intimacy the two shared. Those that you didn’t think much of, outside of fear and pain, for he never struck you to be the kind, patient lover (and he wasn’t).

But now that these issues were highlighted… you could only feel sorrowful.

Naoya, while insatiable when it comes to lust, seemed to have only spent the night with you for political reasons. To fulfill his duty of securing the future of the Zen’in—not because he ever harbored desire for you.

Yet, why did you even expect otherwise? For he too demeaned you with cruel commentaries, and with the one thing you were mostly self-conscious about…

“You know, your thighs wouldn’t be that big if you actually worked out or something…”

“Don’t wear that. I don’t want you to show your legs—it’s already unbefitting a woman, but in your case… well, it’s only necessary.”

That was more than enough to finally push you to the edge and do the one thing many were constantly pestering you about: not to eat. Though in your defense, it’s not like you felt like doing so anyways, the voices and faces of those that hurt you were quick to put you back in your place if you even did as little as consider it, ruining your appetite.

And you managed to keep this way for a few days, at least until you began to grow sick, tired, unable to tend to your duties as you did before, which did not escape your staff’s attention, and subsequently, Naoya’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” Naoya would exclaim first thing upon returning from a mission; tired. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the complaints of your lacking commitment, the only goddamn thing you had to do around the estate. “To go ahead and cause problems to my family, taint my name—have you got no shame?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur, yourself tired as well, due for other reasons, made worse by Naoya’s reproach.

“Then do you mind explaining what the hell were you thinking? What were you planning to do? Get my attention??” He frowns. “Dramatic, but what else could I expect from a woman like you?”

“Please, Naoya… I don’t feel like arguing…”

“No, of course not. You don’t feel like doing anything, do you? Not even eating!” He remarked. “What? Trying to lose some weight, now? Is that what’s gotten into your mind?”

You remain silent, giving him enough of an answer. He laughs.

“So it is that!” He boasts. “I can’t believe it, Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to actually do that!”

“Leave me alone…” you whisper, tears beginning to pool around your eyes.

“To what? Puke your guts out, now? Don’t be stupid!” Naoya continues to jest. “I knew women were desperate, but I didn’t think you’d break the mold!”

His words, perhaps out of your already brewing insecurities, or simply because you’ve grown tired of his mockery, wash you over with an unprecedented wave of anger, dropping your heart to the pit of your stomach as you sharply turn around, ready to take a stand for yourself once and for all.

“And why do you care so much, hm, Naoya?!” You cry. “Weren’t you also one of those that always bothered me about my weight? About how embarrassing I am to your name simply because of the way I look?!”

He flinches, startled by your reaction at first, but soon angered by it as well.

“I won’t tolerate your disrespect—” he frowns, yet you don’t let him continue.

“You even ask me to cover myself up!” you gasp. “You’re so—you’re so disgusted by how I look that you—you wouldn’t mind if I spent the rest of my life locked away so you won’t ever have to see—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Naoya seethes, taking your hand and pulling you to him with such strength that instantly startles you, making you squirm in reaction, trying to move away but he keeps you still, understanding you’ve officially made him furious. “Do you hear the stupidities you’re spewing?!”

“Leave—leave me alone.” You whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to hurt you more for insulting me!”

“Insulting… you?” you repeat, confused. “How was this insulting to you?!”

“You think I’d let you walk around the estate like a whore? Let you display what’s mine?!”

“Naoya, you’re not—you’re not making any sense.” You respond, shame settling in your heart. “If you’re going to make fun of me—!”

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Is all that he says before pushing you against the wall, making you whimper when roughly hitting the wooden pillar behind, a noise that is quickly shut by his lips landing on yours, wasting no time for his tongue to battle yours, subduing you. “So fucking stupid…”

He’d murmur, you moan.

“Na—Naoya—” you breathe, torn apart by his desire and your confusion. Didn’t he… dislike you? “St—stop!”

“What is it that you wanted me to do? Stand aside as my family ogles at you?!”

“Don’t you mean—don’t you mean scrutinize?!” you gasp, flinching when his lips move from yours, down to your jaw, then neck… “Stop—stop mocking me!”

“I should feel offended by your stupidity, if anything.” He responds, pulling away from you to take a good look into your teary eyes—as if trying to assess if you really declared such atrocity, or if it was work of his own anguished mind. “Your blindness to acknowledge what I truly think of you.”

“They—they hate me.” You tremble, why would he want you to remember such an awful thing? “You hate me—”

“No, Y/N.” Naoya groans, pressing closer to you while taking your hand once more to move it down to his groin where his hardening cock was in full display for you to feel, destroying the perceptions you had of everything around you—around him. “This is what you make them feel— what you make me feel!”

“Nao—Naoya—” you tremble, trying to move away your hand from his growing length, intimidated that he somehow felt even bigger underneath your palm; giving the impression his desire for you right now was much stronger than any other instances. But… how? Or more likely, Why? “I don’t—I don’t get it—!”

“Do you really think I’d be blind to the way they stare at you? To their futile attempts of bringing you down, of changing you, just so they’d stop thinking what your skin feels like underneath their fingertips—or how sweet your cunt tastes like?” Naoya breathed, continuing to rub your hand against his cock, desperate to let you know how much he needs his release—how he wants to throw this senseless discussion away…

But not without declaring his upper hand, the one he always had with his family, of course. “But they can’t” He smirks. “The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the perfect wife, the perfect mother for my children.”

The thought of harboring such desire from Naoya made your cunt tighten, the same way his cock twitches.

“They’re just jealous I got to you first.” He continues. “That I was able to see your worth just by your wide hips and ample bosom—you’re the epitome of femininity… but even better—

You’re all mine.”

“But you—but you said horrible things to me—” you cry, his lascivious words still not enough to remove the pain from those awful moments. “Why…?”

“Aw, my love.” Naoya chuckles, cupping your face with his hands and squeezing it so softly, making you pout, a face he always loved to incite from you, amongst others. “I just can’t help it; your reactions are so adorable; you simply make it too easy.”

His hands then travel down to the edges of your skirt, lifting your kimono just enough to reveal your smooth legs to him, the same ones he always had touch and kneed whenever you were close, the mere sight of them enough to make him further spiral into his desire—

If not anger when seeing the flimsy piece of cloth covering your cunt, fingers quick to grab the edge and rip it apart, letting out a quick gasp from your mouth.

“How many times have I told you to stop wearing these stupidities?!” He hisses. “You know damn well than to go against the words of your own husband!”

“But you—you hadn’t touched me.” You fret. “Since that night, we… you hadn’t—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You truly couldn’t be any dumber, could you? Just because I’ve been busy does that mean you can go on and disobey my words?” Naoya accuses with a jesting tone that serves to place the direction of his following actions. “My lovely wife is really that naive… luckily for you, I’m the one in charge of doing all the thinking, while you—you just have to stay like this, ready for me…

To take my cock like the good whore of a wife you are, with that lewd body of yours that is only mine. Exclaiming for me to give you a baby, make you a mother, make your hips wider, your breasts bigger, filled milk—”

And the way your body tightens against him, letting out a moan when his hands parted your legs, guiding his cock onto your dampened slit and gently pushed the head into you, let’s him know this desire has settled in the back of your mind for quite some time, but never revealed itself by the stupidities of his own family, his too undeniably.

But after these agonizing days away from you, forced so by his job, if not those insignificant whores his family brought in an attempt to push him away from you, failing to do so for he quickly discarded them as soon as they crossed his sight…

He’ll never let the opportunity to claim you pass again.

Naoya will do whatever necessary to drill that idea into that little, pathetic mind of yours, even if it means fucking you in the middle of the hallway, where all servants and relatives alike would be able to hear his message loud and clear.

The reality they could only dream of in their most desperate moments—but to him, it was only a matter of taking.

“Naoya—Naoya please—not here.” You whimper, your husband had effectively forced you onto the ground and made you take his cock, either from behind, hands and knees on the wooden floor as he teased and kneaded your ass and hips; he was an avid enjoyed of many positions, but this one had to be one of his favorite ones. To see your skin bounce whenever his hips slammed into you, savoring the way your lewd cunt swallowed him whole, down to the base, with no intentions of letting go, regardless of what you said, it was surprising he still had some restraint. “Please—they’re—they’re going to see!”

“Let them.” Naoya moans, the thought of being caught sends a shiver through his spine; and while it’s not something he necessarily advocated for, the constant, tiring need to be proving his authority over you is what forced him to do so. You might as well play along. “Let them hear how tight your cunt is around my cock! How only I can make you come undone like this—”

“N—No—I don’t—I don’t want…!” you whimper, but even when he changed positions, having you on top of him, giving him sight of the breasts he couldn’t wait to see grow when you’re inevitably pregnant, you still do not stop jumping on his cock, moving your hips up and down alongside his, clenching whenever hitting that sensitive spot that always had you seeing stars. “I don’t want to cum—!”

“Then maybe—Maybe you shouldn’t have this lewd body.” Naoya moans, truly believing that he would never be able to stop himself from using every inch of your body for his own pleasure—from fucking his cock between your soft thighs and boobs, admiring the way they completely cover his cock, drowning it in a combination of softness and his own seed, barely able to see where the tip of his head was…

To relieve that same sensation with his own face, asking you—no, demanding you to smother him with your thighs, a sensation that has him thinking if he were to die this way, cock hard, eased by your soft licks and moans, while deep in the sweet taste of your cunt, he wouldn’t mind it, not one bit.

In fact, he hopes that’s the way he goes.

But he’s in no rush to avoid enjoying the present, the warmth of your body besides him when the two eventually stop, careless to acknowledge if they ever gathered an audience, certainly so when Naoya’s mind was firmly set in getting you pregnant, as heard by his following words.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He declares. “It’s about time you give me a heir.”

And you do nothing but oblige, though you doubted all the cum nestled inside your cervix hadn’t done the job already.

In fact, you relished the idea. If it meant getting this side of Naoya’s desire, attention you didn’t think to be deserving of, or even capable of obtaining…. Then you were nothing but obedient.

“Naoya, you’re—oh!” You gasp when instead of waiting for you to stand up to properly greet him, he lowers down to your level, taking a seat before eventually resting his head over your lap, taking a deep sigh and resting for the first time after a long week of work. “Is… everything alright?”

“I’m tired.” He responds, adjusting himself into an even better position and sighing once more. “I don’t want to talk.”

So, you don’t, preferring instead to softly caress his head, moving some of his silky black threads away from his face and letting him relax, enough to dive into the beginnings of his slumber, but not before clearing his mind from one doubt.

“Our baby—”

“He’s fine.” You murmur, placing your hand over your stomach. It’s still very early during the pregnancy to know so, and yet, there was something about you that just made it so obvious that you were carrying a life inside you—

Perhaps it was the way you glowed, or how you became softer with him ever since it was first announced.

Though the latter was mostly the fact that you started to feel… wanted by your husband, a kind of desire that while far from perfect, was enough for you to change your perspective of this marriage, allowing you to open up to him, mostly so when Naoya now defended you from those unwanted comments from his family.

You’re carrying the future of the Zen’in, after all, some decorum must be maintained.

Yet something tells you his changed demeaner ran far deeper than what Naoya wanted to reveal. «All in due time» you suppose.

“I love you, and our baby too.” You say, instinctively taken by this calm moment of domesticity with your loving husband, not expecting a response considering his somewhat cold nature—only to be proven wrong when he turns around to see you, silently placing his gaze on yours in such way that initially makes you think you might’ve ruined this moment, just for him to pull you closer to him, taking your lips in a soft, quick kiss before returning to your lap, closing his eyes and sleeping.

He may not have said it, but the sentiment was the same, and that was enough for you to be happy.

Naoya is still a jerk, but I like to think he eventually got to genuinely care about you. Also, he got real lucky that one time he thought with his dick, imagine if you were a piece of shit too? NAH He'd lose it. He got real lucky that you were nice, I tell you...

Also, I'm still with the pregnancy stuff :) sorrynotsorry.

OH! and also!! It's safe to say that the things Naoya said are NOT a reflection of what I think!! Everybody is beautiful and deserving of love, no matter what body type ❤️

Now, thank you so much for sending this niche ask... I gotta say, I have been thinking about it since I do relate to it............... but I try to keep my work pretty open-ended so anyone can relate :) Still, if there's something you'd like me to write a bit more detailed, just let me know! I'll be sure to try my best tho, some I might reject if I don't feel like I know much about the matter....

Anyways, thank you so much for this ask ❤️ take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[bcacstuff]

Yes She's BACK!

First things first, thank you all for all you did, for all your support in this weird situation, it's very heartwarming to see you do not only appreciate my blog, but also reach out and take action when something like this happens. A very huge and special shoutout I absolutely want to do is to my friend @brian-in-finance who after some notified her took immediate action and posted a post asking to join in contacting support and reactivate my blog! Love you all!

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

It was all very weird and strange, never happened to me before anywhere or anytime. But yes, as you all saw all of the sudden my blog was completely vanished.

So what happened?

I don't know! I'm still in the dark. I was logged in all the time and posted as you have seen over the day/evening. I was chatting in DM to people and all of the sudden - POOF - I was out. Upon refreshing I needed to log in again, wasn't really alarmed about that, that happened before but when I tried to log in I got the simple screen saying my account and blog was terminated and a link to contact support to know what the cause is. 😳

So I clicked the link and it took me to the support request form, I filled in all the details, clicked sent.... and .... nothing happened 😔

I waited a bit, normally you get a confirmation email when you sent in a support request through the form but... nothing 😔

I tried to sent another one but I couldn't even click the sent button anymore... Tumblr didn't like me anymore? 😢

Fortunately I could reach out to a few people outside Tumblr who then took action and they kept me posted about things. At some point I could see the post and all the comments and reblogs you all did and the many saying they contacted support requesting to reactivate my blog. Of which I'm very grateful, truly so nice and good to know of all of you. I know many readers appreciate my posts with verifiable information, the diversity in comments even though sometimes some have some issues with the more extremes (on both sides). But I also noticed how a lot of people who do not agree with my views on things commented, reached out and said how this is not what they wish upon me. Yes, I even now heard in DMs Purv reached out to BIF and said so!

And today, as suddenly as my blog vanished, it's back. Nothing, not a blip from Tumblr as to why or what happened. Nothing at all! Just back again 🤷‍♀️

Thank you, if anything I can do is go on with what I have always done! I surely will and you're all welcome, agree or disagree I don't care! You all showed you compassion, your respect as an adult well thinking human being! 🧡

Something I can not say about this other group of people, who immediately jumped to conclusions accusing me of all kind of mischief, well now that must be the reason. Cheering upon things you don't wish someone when you have a rightful mind, even if you disagree. That's plain pathetic, it shows your true colors, your inhumanity, your childish vileness in all the colors thinkable but mostly very gray and dark.

Things that happened to yourself, where nobody here on this side said these vile things when it happened to you. nobody in my inbox cheered on nor in my DMs and I never wished it upon you. Yet you are cheering as if karma did its job.... well here you are, within a day it's all back. Don't you feel stupid about all the things you said now? And how to explain now I must be a PR plant and things are dropped into my inbox?

You know what, you all that did so are the smalles people in the world and can all crawl back in your tiny shitty stinking holes deep down in the earth and let this things sink in:

Thank you all, soon I'll resume with the latest I found out (nothing bad 😉)

[iliketangerines]

I absolutely adore your writing omg its so good. you make me want to write more fics even tho ive only posted 1 (womp womp).

If I can make a request, we need more primal play Tomas plEASEEE!

Hunter/Prey dynamics w that man got me running laps around my room and quite possibly have me feral!!!!

(I dont need therapy, I just need to be pinned down by his big strong arms.)

Please and Thank You. Youre the best ever <3

helpless prey

a/n: tomas....mmm...so tasty

pairing: tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) primal prey, cnc, public sex (you're in the woods)

Tomas comes out of the woods after checking the safety of the surroundings about a third time, and you pat his shoulder and tell him it’ll be okay and that you can defend yourself

he just sighs and says he was just making sure one more time, and you just fix the little bunny ear hairband on your head and show the thigh strap holding your knife

you reassure him one more time and say you know how to defend yourself, and he presses his forehead to yours and murmurs that he knows, his hands coming up to grip onto your arms and squeeze it gently

finally, he pulls away, and you shake yourself loose as you face the dark woods, pursing your lips at the feeling of the bunny tail plug sitting snug in your ass

it would definitely hinder your ability to think properly, but you push the thought out of your mind and give another glance to Tomas standing behind you

he taps his fingers against his thigh and says he’ll give you five minutes to hide before he comes to hunt you down, and you nod

sprinting off into the woods, the ears bob on your head and your tail presses against you and make your legs slightly wobble as you run through the forest

the trees tower over you, and your heart beats fast in your chest as you criss cross your own path, leaving the footprints in a confusing pattern on the dirt

you know the five minutes have finally passed, and he’s coming to get you, tracking your footprints in the loose first

only a minute remains, maybe less for you to actually hide, and you look at the trees and find one with a hole in the trunk, bushes covering the base

you mess your footprints, tracing old ones before diving into the bushes and making sure you were as low to the trunk floor as possible

the woods are silent, save for the sound of night animals prowling around in the night, and you try to keep your breaths shallow and your body still as you strain your ears

nothing happens for a few minutes, but you would be a fool to think that you’re safe as you keep your eyes focused through the leaves of the bush to listen for Tomas

it’s silent, quiet, and then you hear it, subtle and barely there, but the light footsteps of an assassin are in the air

he comes out from behind a bush, eyes scanning the area, and you go still, barely even trembling as he searches the area

your footprints are still on the ground, and he looks at them carefully before looking through the area again

you watch with wide eyes as he walks and walks around, looking up the trees and near the bushes, and he’s getting closer, only about a foot away from you

your breathing stops, and you hope he doesn’t look down into the bushes

his footsteps stand right outside you, and you wait and wait until he lets out a barely audible breath and starts walking in the other direction

and then you hear him stop and turn around, and his eyes meet yours through the leaves

your feet scramble for balance as he pounces toward you, and you sprint out of the tree trunk as he jumps into the bushes

running through the woods, you pant hard, heart beating wildly, and his footsteps aren’t far behind yours as you run

he’s fast, faster than you’ve ever seen him run, and his fingers brush against your back as you make a turn around a tree

he’s too close to you, and you try to make unpredictable turns right and left

but it feels as though he’s leading you in a certain direction as you run, but you ignore the feeling in your stomach as you run and run

and then as he slams into a tree to the right of you, you sprint to the left and trip over something, tangling up your feet in something rough

tumbling onto the ground, you try to pull your knife out of your thigh strap, but Tomas easily knocks it aside as he pounces on top of you

he grabs onto your wrists and pin them to your sides, his thigh slotting between yours and rubbing against your clothed cunt

it makes you whimper, the adrenaline still running through you, and you try to find purchase with your legs to try and kick him off

the only thing it accomplishes it making his thigh dig further in your clit, and Tomas seems to know as he watches with a slight smirk at how you work yourself up

by the end of your struggle, lungs burning with exhaustion, Tomas just watches a smirk, hands gripping tight onto your wrists and finally asks if you’re done

you just part your lips and try to take in as much as you can, trying to ease the burn in your chest, and he laughs and grinds your clit into his thigh

it makes you whimper, and pleasure shoots through you as you try and move your hips away from him

he just smirks and moves his thigh with you and watches as you struggle to stifle your sounds and try not to give him the satisfaction

Tomas leans down to growl in your ear to give into him little bunny, and you turn your head to the side

he laughs and buries his nose in your neck, breathing in your scent before sucking and licking at the skin, teeth sinking into the flesh after a second

you whine at the feeling, legs twitching to squeeze his waist, and his smirk only grows as you struggle in his arms

he slots his other thigh next to his and spreads your legs with his, grinding his hips into yours and listening to your slight whimper

you’re only dressed in panties, and you can feel his hardening cock into your cunt, groaning into your ear and murmuring that he can’t wait to devour you

then he brings his free hand to your face, tilting your face towards him and pressing his lips to yours, and he pushes his tongue against the seal of your lips

you keep them shut, and he growls at the lack of submission

he humps his hip into yours roughly, causing your mouth to slip open, and Tomas shoves his tongue into your mouth, almost daring you to bite it with the smirk against yours

he hums into your mouth, savoring the taste of your lips, and his free hand goes to slip off his sash and pants, pulling his cock out of his underpants

he parts from your lips, grinning at your teary eyes, and says he would do more but he can’t wait, too helpless to his instincts to resist such a pretty piece of prey

you whimper and close your eyes, biting your lip and turning your head away, and Tomas just coos at your reaction, slipping your panties to the side

his fingers run through your folds, and he brings them up to his face and smiles at the sight of your want covering his fingers

he teases you, saying that maybe you are just a desperate little bunny, all for him, and he humps his cock against your pussy, listening to the slick sound of it

Tomas kisses you again, and he continues to ruts against you, wetting his cock against you and grunting into your mouth at your little whines

it’s all he does for a minute, and then finally he groans that he can’t wait anymore, lining himself up with you and slowly pushing in

you whine and kick your legs uselessly in the air, swollen tears falling down your face, and Tomas just kisses them away

his brows furrow, and he asks if you’re okay, genuinely, eyes wide with concern

you take a little breath and say that you’re fine, and just to give you a second

Tomas nods, releasing your wrists to bring both his hands to cup your face and wipe away your tears with gentle thumbs

you lean into his touch and take a second to adjust, just breathing in and out, and he waits for you patiently, staring with a concentrated face until you’re ready

a few minutes pass, and finally, you give him the go ahead and tell him he can continue

Tomas grabs onto your wrists again and give you a little nod, closing his eyes and letting out a quick puff of air

when he opens them again, they’re dangerous and glint with something sharp and angry as his hips start to snap against you

you whine and squirm, but it’s impossible to get out of his grip with how his weight presses down on you

the hand not holding your wrists goes down to rub against your clit, drawing a high keen out of you, and he just thrusts his hips in and out of you, grinning down at you

Tomas starts slow with his thrusts, listening to your whimpers and your whines as he starts to speed up, and then it’s the sound of his hips slapping against yours viciously

his thumb presses firm circles into your clit, and he leans down in close to hear your stifled moans and see how you try to keep yourself quiet

you bite your lip, turning your head to the side, but he just takes the opportunity to bite your neck again and suck a deep hickey into your skin

his hips never stop, pushing into you deeper and deeper, and he presses faster circles into your clit, groaning into your skin as he bites your skin

you whine as your pussy clenches down on him, and you cum on him hard

Tomas smiles as you cum on him, teasing you for cumming on a big bad wolf’s cock, he thought that you were scared of him and yet here you are trembling beneath him

you whine and whimper, finally releasing your lip from your teeth, and whines and whimpers spill from your lips as you sob and cry from the pleasure

his thumb presses insistently on your clit, prolonging your orgasm, and his hips only get faster, biting into your neck

he says he wants you to cum again, cum on his cock again, needs to hear your sweet little moans for him

he grips onto your wrists tighter, scooting up so that his thighs sit underneath your butt, and it changes the angle of his thrusts

it makes the tip of his cock hit against that sweet spot inside of you, and you let out choked moan a the feeling

he grins at your scrunched up face, how you cry tears from the pleasure, and his hips keep fucking into your desperately

the pace stumbles, and his own moans start to fall out of your mouth, groaning out your name and just looking at you with love-sick eyes

he can’t help but break the act as he leans down to kiss you, hands releasing your wrists to cup your face with one hand and rub your clit with the other

your hands go to scratch at his back, digging your blunt nails into the hard muscle, and he whines into your mouth, thrusting hard as his fingers press insistent circles into you

he cums into you, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep, and your pussy clenches down on him, milking him of every drop

he slightly whines at the feeling and stays inside of you for a while, just kissing you and moaning into your mouth

after a minute, he pulls out of you and asks if you can walk, and you stretch your legs, or at least attempt to before you groan and let them flop to the floor

he smiles and laughs at your attempt before moving, pulling his pants up, and he moves your panties back to normal and picks you up into his arms

you adjust the little bunny ears on your head and ask if you were convincing enough, and he laughs and says that you were, walking back to the compound while you’re in his arms

[in1-nutshell]

Shenanigans happen, Fearless gets hit with magical plot ray and temporarily turns cybertronian.  Good news, they’re now alot more durable and no longer under threat of squishidge.  Bad news, their shenanigans have doubled now that they're durable.

YES! Fearless has returned and back with a new body!

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless turns Cybertronain

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human/Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

The Lost Light had just found a new relic on one of their trips.

The science department was in charge of figuring out what it was capable of doing.

No one knows who or what had activated the relic, or why it even spontaneously combusted because everyone was too busy avoiding the energy beam that was ricocheting around the lab.

That is… until it left the lab.

Meanwhile, Fearless was hauling some metal scraps back to their room with Whirl.

Well, they were doing the work while Whirl was busy talking to them about the latest development in getting Cyclonus and Tailgate together.

None of them saw the energy beam heading towards them until it was too late.

The impact sent them both flying back.

Whirl tried to get back onto his pedes, but a giant weight suddenly flung on top of him.

Whirl tries moving the enormous weight off of him.

That fails miserably.

“Get off of me you little—”--Whirl

“Whirl?! Whirl where are you!”--Fearless

The weight suddenly gets off of Whirl’s chassis as the smoke clears.

In front of him was a large bot on their knees staring shakingly at their servos.

The bot looks at him.

“Whirl?”--Fearless

“Primus! Fearless is that you?!”--Whirl

They nod looking back at their shaking servos.

Whirl takes their servos into his claws.

The shaking lessens a bit.

“C’mon let’s get you up.”--Whirl

Whirl stands up and attempts to help Fearless up.

Whirl is immediately dwarfed by Fearless’s shadow once they stand up straight.

Fearless blinks their new optics at Whirl before cracking a smile.

“Wow, the view really is nice up here.”--Fearless

Then their smile drops.

“What? What’s with the face?”--Whirl

They break out into a giant smile.

“I can finally do this now!”--Fearless

“Do wh-AAAHH!”--Whirl

Fearless scoops Whirl into their arms and hugs him tightly, slightly swaying back and forth.

They let him go while testing their pedes.

Thankfully they had retained their ability to move around just fine.

“I CAN HUG EVERYONE NOW!”--Fearless

Fearless turned around and immediately started heading to Swerve’s.

Whirl stood there for a second trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“…This is what I get for staying on this ship. FEARLESS GET BACK HERE!”--Whirl

Meanwhile on the bridge…

“Fearless’s signature just disappeared!”

To see a bot burst through the doors of the bar wasn’t a sight too uncommon to Swerve’s.

But to have the bot smiling and immediately start hugging bots, that was new.

Even more when Whirl came in venting heavily and slightly cursing under the vents.

Chromedome was the first to try and confront the bot.

He was also one of the bots victims.

Chromedome was not expecting the bot to be so happy to see him and throw their arms around him.

Rewind tried to come to his rescue, but the mystery bot had also scooped him up into the hug.

“I’m-- its nice to meet you too but—”--Chromedome

The bot releases him to fully hug Rewind.

“Hey that’s my—”--Chromedome

“FEARLESS! I SWEAR TO PRIMUS—STOP HUGGING BOTS UNTIL THEY KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”--Whirl

Silence.

“Welp, that happened.”--Whirl

All optics are on Fearless, who is completely unphased and still hugging Rewind.

“Fearless?”--Rewind

Fearless finally releases Rewind and proudly puffs their chassis.

“Nice body am I right!”--Fearless

“But how!? Why?!”--Skids

Fearless and Whirl shrug.

“Energy beam.”—Fearless and Whirl

“An energy beam? That’s it?”--Cyclonus

Fearless nods before scanning the crowd.

Target locked.

Fearless lunges out and wraps their arms around Rung, hugging him close.

“Fearless, dear, how long have you had this… new frame of yours?”--Rung

“Don’t know. Less than 5 minutes though.”--Fearless

“And you haven’t thought about visiting the med bay to see if there are any complications?”--Rung

Fearless pauses for a second before releasing Rung.

“Hmm, haven’t thought about that. Honestly, my first thoughts were hugging everyone on board, telling Megs—PRIMUS MEGS DOESN’T KNOW!”--Fearless

SLAM!

Rodimus, Megatron, Drift, and Ultra Magnus appear at the door.

“Listen up! Fearless has gone missing. We need to—”--Rodimus

“Fearless is right here.”--Whirl

Whirl points over at the larger bot inside the bar.

“What?”--Megatron

“Yeah, some crazy energy beam thing came in and zapped me… And well…”--Fearless

Fearless runs up to Megatron and wraps their arms the best they could around him.

Megatron’s own arms flail around a bit before awkwardly hugging them back.

CLICK!

“Whirl!”--Magnus

“Shut it, you’re ruining the moment.”—Whirl

“Where did you even get a camera?”—Drift

“Shhh.”—Whirl

“Where—“—Drift

“Shh!”--Whirl

It didn’t take long to find where the cause of the energy beam came from.

But the relic was almost completely obliterated.

It would take some time to figure it out.

Fearless was checked in with Ratchet as soon as they could.

Thankfully they came out of the med bay with a clean bill of health.

It did take a while to get used to.

Especially being taller than most of the bots on board.

In fact, they are sure that they were even taller than Megatron by a couple of inches.

Megatron denies this.

… but Brainstorm checked, they were taller than him.

The minibots have found a new jungle gym to climb on.

Also, no one was except from Fearless’s merciless reign of pranks and hugs filled with words of affirmation and love.

Speaking of which, Megatron was never far from them.

A shadow per say.

But it came at a cost.

“Fearless… I need you to release me.”--Megatron

Fearless has locked their arms and pedes around him like a koala.

“No.”--Fearless

“Fearless…”--Megatron

“You said you could count the number of times someone hugged you on one servo. I am just getting you caught up.”—Fearless

They hug a bit tighter causing the ex-warlord to grumble but made not effort to get them off of him.

Fearless the moment they realized the ship would be subjected to their pranks and hugs.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

epilogue

london air has never suited her. she could not put a name on it, but it was not like home—neither was her dorm, to be honest. hence, she found herself walking the streets one good morning.

she has always wanted to go to that art museum nearby but could not find the time to do so. university sucks, she gathered, but does love her program wholeheartedly. she really should not have been on this field though. engineering and astrophysics, perhaps, but they were harder to reach and unpractical. it is not to say she does not love what she does currently.

entering the place, she could not count how many times she already whispered magnificent in her mind. the structure, the artworks, the architecture—everything.

but, more than that, the girl was in love with art. she could not create her own, for heaven's sake, but she does love it.

so, she made sure to wander around to the fullest. the least she could do was appreciate others' works. of course, there were paintings she did not feel much—good thing she was alone though or else the girl has already yapped about it. she continued to go in deeper in the exhibit, admiring the genius of multiple artists. some were even hundreds of years ago.

she always found it unfair how we could preserve objects for hundreds of years but find it awfully hard to reach a hundred years ourselves. the things that are made outlive the creator. it was utterly unfair, but she thought.

perhaps, art was not meant for the present but for the future. it was made, not for the current eyes but for someone in the years to come.

in that sense, art is a form of communication through time. a kind of time travel, per se.

it was quite similar to schrödinger's cat. you could be present and absent at the same time. and that's exactly what she thought before her eyes landed on a huge painting.

she read its label, which was quite brief compared to the others, only containing the name, the artist, the medium, and the year created.

the execution of lady loraine silva

benedict bridgerton, 1815

"such a sad painting." she muttered unknowingly out loud. the girl was taken by it, intimately observing the details of the artwork.

"with a sad story too."

a voice added beside her. she turned to the man with friendly eyes as they both stand in front of the painting, admiring it. she pouted at that, the exhibit only placed the name of the works and no description at all.

maybe, it was a well-known art that does not even need to be explained as it speaks for itself, which she had to agree it did speak for itself. she was almost embarrassed that her being uncultured is showing.

"i am afraid i do not know the story well."

the man turned to her with intrigue—not that his interest was not already piqued before he even stood beside her. his eyes shined at that. he loved nothing more than to talk about the things he is well-knowledgeable.

"lady loraine silva is an eighteen-year old who was executed along with her father's second-in-command, colonel montague, for high treason."

she looked at him as she listened, lips parting in surprise, "oh, wow. i'd have to agree with you then. that's a really sad story—at a very young age too!"

he nodded with closed eyes as he continued, "benedict bridgerton, the artist, is said to be her lover. he finished the painting just weeks after the execution happened."

"damn," she whispered, letting her sight fall on the artwork again, "so much grief on a single painting."

"this letter is written by him." he stepped forward, gesturing to the letter incased in a glass near the painting before turning to her.

she followed his lead, walking near to read the two hundred years old paper.

give me your permission and i will continue to love you in another. believe that i will run amock across the universe until i find you.

and so, when you see the world ending in the newspapers, trust that it is my work because i still have not met you again.

she pursed her lips after reading, the man beside her actively watching her reaction. it was immensely sorrowful that she could feel the torment they must have been at that time.

she did not want to lose hope though. that was not her. so, she raised her eyes at him with a shine.

"the world is not ending. perhaps, he found her already."

his eyes widened just quite a bit, lips parting by her exceptional thought before a warm smile settled on his features, "perhaps."

she grinned widely—it was almost childish.

she let her gaze fall back on the paintaing across them both, a comfortable silence between them. it was amazing, really. people are so much in tune with their emotions.

"luke thompson."

the man beside her spoke once again. he introduced charmingly, putting a hand forward.

"francine silva."

she did not think twice in grasping it—and as she did, she could almost recognise him. she could almost tell he was somebody that she used to know.

"a relative?" his brows raised in surprise followed by a chuckle as he gestured to the painting, "you cannot possibly be a descendant because... well."

francine laughed genuinely, the sorrow of the art in front of them completely forgotten, "you'd be surprised at the amount of people in the world who have that surname."

she continued, gesturing to the exhibit around them, "do you work here? you know an awful lot about the artworks."

"you'd be surprised at the amount of people who work here and don't know a thing about these all." his familiar lopsided grin showed.

he was effortlessly funny as the girl jokingly narrowed her eyes to the workers who had their backs on the two.

he chuckled as he clarified, "i am an actor."

"really? that's amazing!" her mouth was agape at that, shrugging off her earlier thoughts.

ah, maybe that's why he looked familiar earlier.

the silva pouted right after, "i apologise i do not recognise you. i don't watch much telly nowadays."

luke shook his head dismissively as if saying it was not a problem at all, "you don't have to apologise. i am in theater and plays more anyway."

she gushed at the mention, "oh, i love plays!"

he beamed at her excitement, placing his fingers below his chin as if in deep thinking, "let me guess what you do. i am quite good at this."

she laughed at him acting serious with the game he started himself as he leaned to her for closer observation, "something related with arts?"

she blew a sigh, seemingly sulking, "i still can't even paint."

he stepped back at that, crossing his arms with a teasing judging look, "well, why are you here then?"

"can't i be an enjoyer of it even if i can't do it myself?" she rolled her eyes at his accusing tone before she continued, pulling a face, "i am on a break. if i look at cells, muscles, and neurons from my textbook for another second, i will die."

"ah, medical school then." he stated with confidence as the girl nodded begrudgingly.

"well, since you're on a break," luke began with a genuine smile as he playfully blocked her view of the artwork in front, offering his hand, "francine silva, what do you say for a quick tea?"

she beamed at him, her eyes shining like how the stars did one strange night during the regency period. she placed her own hand at the care of his.

"i thought you'd never ask."

they both knew they had to exit the museum together. they did not understand it, of course, but they may have felt it.

they may have recognised each other by touch alone. now and then.

perhaps, he was indeed somebody she used to know.

curious—how many people must have been listening to music they made in their previous lives, read books they do not remember writing.

how many people must have stared at their own art in museums with no recollection of the pain they had to go through to create that.

luckily, they stumbled upon each other today, just like they had three times before.

once in eighteen-fifteen.

once in eighteen-ninety-four.

once in nineteen-fourty-five.

perhaps, their love would be a little less painful this time.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [5]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sooooo satosugu won the poll so this is officially a satosugu x reader series! (just might be a bit of slowwww burnnn)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

It was hot.

Blindingly so.

Still, you refused to take off your sweater even if you desperately wanted to. You were just thankful that your school allowed you to wear sweaters and hoodies over top of uniforms without getting in trouble for it and although normally that was something you only had to worry about in the winter, you had no choice but to today.

If you took off your sweater, then people would see the finger-sized marks across your arms from Sukuna yesterday and really, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions that would inevitably follow. Nor did you want to… let it escalate any further. Sure, you’d managed to get away yesterday and had somehow gained the courage to make your breakup clear to Sukuna, but it didn't erase the fact that he’d scared you last night. And you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somehow people got word that the bruises on your arms were from him.

It was over, anyways. You’d done it. You’d broken up with him and could now move on from him.

Move on with your life.

“You look hot,” Shoko comments from beside you, regarding you with a raised brow. “Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s blistering hot outside?”

Meeting her eyes, you shrug. “It isn’t that hot.”

“You’re sweating,” she deadpans.

Biting your lip, you choose to ignore the fact that she is very much correct. Your sweater is sticking to your skin from the obnoxious sun that is beating right over your head and the need to relieve some of the heat is more than tempting. But the sight of Sukuna running past you, meeting his dark and intimidating eyes just briefly, reminds you of why you’re keeping your sweater on.

“I just finished running,” you explain which, you guessed, wasn’t completely a lie. You were sweating because you’d just finished running but you were sweating a lot because of that and the fact that you were wearing a sweater… Shoko didn’t need to know that though. 

Meeting her eyes from the corner of your own, you nod to yourself. “I’m actually a little cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe, fighting the urge to break under her intense stare. You didn’t even need to be looking directly at her to feel the intensity of it – if there was one thing Shoko was good at, it was seeing through your every lie. You figured that talent came with knowing you for as long as she had… still didn’t make it any less scary thought.

“Like a cold sweat.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you, the suspicious gaze in her eyes never wavering but she has the decency to leave it at that.

You’re incredibly thankful for that fact.

“So, you really did break it off with Ryoumen, huh?”

The two of you are standing by the bleachers while the boys have their turn playing soccer, as per your teachers instructions. The game has been going on for about five minutes now (you only just finally feeling like you’re not about to pass out) and you’ve been spending those five minutes idly chatting with Shoko and desperately trying not to ogle Geto who looks a little too good on the field right now.

Seriously, when did you start to find him attractive?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was attractive — of course you did. The whole female population of your school knew that Geto Suguru was attractive. You’re pretty sure he had his own little fanclub of girls that followed him around and you swear you’ve caught one of them asking him out in the hallway more times than you care to admit. So yes, objectively, you knew Geto was attractive. Incredibly attractive.

But you hadn’t really paid any of that mind until now.

It was like a fact. A statement. It hadn’t had any impact on you previously, and yet, here you were, practically drooling at the sight of him.

“–Hello? Y/N?”

A hand falls on your shoulder, the sudden touch making you jump as your eyes snap to Shoko. She’s staring back at you in concern, head tilted and brows furrowed as you blink over at her.

“I asked you a question?”

Had she?

Eyes briefly glancing back at Geto before focusing on her, you rub the back of your neck.

“Whoops,” you mumble bashfully, “sorry. What was it again? I… spaced out.” 

Rolling her eyes, Shoko just snorts; “I asked if you really did break things off with Sukuna.”

“Oh!” Your eyes instantly brighten up, turning to face her fully. “I did!”

Shoko grins; “yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she turns to you. “I’ve literally been waiting for you to do that forever.”

Rolling your eyes, you just snort. “I know, I know,” you wave her off, before pausing. You had no intention of telling her about how angry Sukuna had gotten, but it would be good to get it off your chest even a little. You just wouldn’t mention the bruise thing—besides, Shoko had said she wanted every little detail. 

So, turning to her, you grin; “it was so awkward though and—”

“Shoko!”

Lips left parted in the middle of your sentence, both you and Shoko glance behind her, only to see a group of girls from another class waving at her to grab her attention. The excitement on your face fades somewhat at that, leaning back on your feet as Shoko waves back at them before glancing over at you apologetically,

“I—”

“It’s all good,” you brush off before she can apologize, waving her concern away. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

Shoko hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze her shoulder; “of course. Go.”

With one more hesitant glance your way, Shoko nods, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before making her way over. You watch her for a moment longer before letting your eyes fall around, eyes momentarily meeting Sukuna’s and swiftly turning your head away, you move, making your way over to the bleachers on the side of the field. A few of the other girls from your class have sat down, chatting amongst themselves, and with nothing better to do, you take a seat near a corner, pulling your legs to your chest and opting to simply watch the boys.

You knew Shoko cared about you, just like you cared about her but it sucked knowing that some of the other girls wanted to be her friend but didn’t want to be yours. Anytime you’d tried to talk with her other friends before, it had just been awkward. And not something you wanted to repeat.

Sighing, you let your head fall on top of your knees.

At least you could watch Geto with no interruptions now.

“Boo!”

Or not…

Flickering your gaze to the right, your lips part when you realize it’s Gojo sitting beside you.

“Gojo!”

With a wide grin and a wink, Gojo offers you a wave.

You glance around before settling back on him, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… here for gym class?” Gojo explains with a snort, using his thumb to point behind him and following his direction, your lips part when you see a group of girls occupying the field next to the one you’re sitting in front of. Focusing back on Gojo and the line sheen of sweat covering his skin, you put the pieces together.

“Oh,” your lips form a ‘o’, “I forgot other classes had gym at the same time as us.” Cheeks warming, you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.

Gojo takes a moment to eye you before laughing; “you’re weird, you know that?”

Lips parting in offense, you shove at his shoulder; “that’s rude!”

“No,” Gojo laughs, your shove barely moving him an inch, “what’s rude is you calling me Gojo.”

Confused, you turn to him; “is that not your name?”

“It is,” he assures, “but it’s too formal. I thought I made it clear; call me Satoru.”

You’re sure your face grows hot at that.

“B-But! That’s too friendly!” You argue, waving your hands in front of you widely. “We only just started talking and—”

“And we’re already close,” Gojo cuts in, smiling cheekily. “So what’s the problem?”

Shoulders slumping, you just frown at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo just takes the insult in stride, leaning in close so his face is right in front of yours. You instinctively lean back, surprised by his sudden closeness as you press against the side of the bleachers. It doesn’t seem to bother Gojo who only grows closer; you can feel his side press into your arm and his leg knock into your folded one, not to mention all you can see is those bright, beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“U-um…—”

“And you’re adorable.”

Okay, now you’re sure you’re red in the face.

“G-Gojo–!”

“Satoru,” he cuts in, waving his finger at you. “Repeat after me. Sa-To-Ru.”

You stare back at him, wishing he’d back up even a little because he was too close and it was making you feel a way you didn't know how to react to. You’d already been sweating because of the damn sweater before, but now you probably look like a hot mess and your mind is running a mile a minute just to come up with something to say.

“Come on,” Gojo sings softly, voice low so only you can hear but still sweet and soft. “Say it.”

Lips parting, you ignore the racing of your heart; “Sa… Satoru.”

With a sudden jump, he’s pulled back, sitting up straight next to you as he grins wide, ear to ear; “see?” He exclaims, “that wasn’t so hard. It’s much better if you just call me by my first name, kay, Y/N?”

You’re frazzled. You know you’re frazzled. Even though Gojo has leaned back like you wanted him to, your heart is still racing and you feel flushed. 

Was it just your imagination or had he also smelled really good?

“O-okay.”

Pleased by your answer, Gojo finally lets his eyes wander down, pausing when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Aren’t you warm?”

Oh god… not this again.

“No,” you deny with a shake of your head, hugging yourself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gojo just quirks a brow. “You look warm.” He states bluntly.

You huff — what was with everyone questioning you on wearing a damn sweater? Was it that hard to believe?

“For your information—”

You stop what you’re saying the second a shadow falls over you, completely blocking the sun from falling over you. Confused, you turn, only to pause when you see it’s Geto. You blink at the sight of him, confused, not having expected to see him, glancing over his shoulder to the field to see, like you thought, the rest of the boys are still playing and yet…

“Geto—”

“Did you bring my hoodie?”

His voice is harsh. Harsher than you expected. By the way he falters the second he meets your eyes properly, you figure he didn’t mean to sound that angry but you’re still confused as to why he even would be in the first place.

Was he upset you hadn’t given him the hoodie back earlier?

You also have not failed to notice how still Gojo is beside you suddenly.

“U-Um… Yeah, it’s in my bag. One sec.”

Reaching behind you to grab your bag, you’re oblivious to the way Gojo and Geto glare at each other, each with a certain fierceness and determination in their gaze before swiftly glancing away the second you turn back around.

“Here,” you call, smiling up at Geto as you extend his folded sweater to his awaiting hands. “I made sure it didn’t have any stains on it or anything after I washed, so it should be good. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

Geto’s face eases as he meets your eyes and he smiles softly; “it’s no problem. Thank you for washing it.” Then, as if almost an afterthought, he adds; “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your place to wait for it.”

You miss the way Gojo straightens at that.

“Oh, no!” You brush off, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you had to even give it to me in the first place.”

“Um,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as he shifts his gaze from Geto to you, offering you a somewhat tight-lipped smile. “Why did you have Geto’s hoodie in the first place?”

You’re a little confused as to why he cares, but—

“I accidentally spilled my soda on her and it made her shirt see-through and she was cold, so I offered it to her.”

Well, he didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—

“Oh?” Gojo asks, but something about his tone sounds strained and tense. “Is that so?”

Lips parting, you watch as the two of them glare at each other.

“U-um,” you speak up nervously, shifting forward; both of their eyes instantly fall on you, features softening. “Do you two… not like each other or something?”

The two glance at each other again.

Gojo’s the first to speak up; “not particularly.”

“We’ve never gotten along,” Geto elaborates. “That’s all.”

“I see…” You mumble, before your eyes brighten with a sudden idea; “well, hey! There's always a first, right?”

And the answer is clear to them both;

No way in hell.

Still, for you, they hesitate.

“Maybe,” Geto shrugs, brushing a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Gojo sighs dramatically; “if I’d have to.”

You’re oblivious to it all — eyes twinkling with excitement, you smile brightly. Truly, a brilliant idea has come to mind.

“Isn’t that amusement park opening up soon? I think… this weekend?” You ask, “you two should go together!”

Geto and Gojo frown at one another.

If there’s one thing the two of them can agree upon, it’s that that seems like the worst idea.

The two of them? Alone? At an amusement park?

What could honestly possess you to think that’s a good idea?

Geto, however, looks at you a moment later and smirks, clearly proud of himself; “I dunno about him, but I’d go with you.” And he sends a smug grin Gojo’s way, clearly thinking he’d effectively worked his way around not only having to disappoint you by saying no to your original idea but, getting you to go with him instead.

Gojo gasps, as if thoroughly offended.

“Really?” Your eyes brighten.

Geto smiles, nodding.

“Then let’s go!” You exclaim excitedly and Geto is just about to turn to Gojo with a victory smirk, before you add; “the three of us! When are you guys free next?”

Wait–what? 

-

Geto is not really sure how he got himself into this situation.

Like really – how?

“She’s late.”

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Geto resists the urge to let his annoyance get the best of him. But really–truly–he was at his final straw.

“You’ve said that three times,” Geto grumbles, offering a quick glance beside him at the white-haired bastard that just couldn’t help but take you up on your offer. Then, imagine Geto’s surprise when he shows up at your agreed upon time just to see that you hadn’t shown up yet but Gojo had—and Geto’s pretty sure that the guy was normally late to everything. Late to class, late to tests, meetups, hangouts, etc. so of course it was just his luck that today is the day Gojo decides he’s going to show up on time.

And you aren’t.

Letting out a whine, Gojo pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, moving until he’s directly beside Geto and the two of them are now staring out at the entrance way, waiting for you.

“It’s true, though,” Gojo mumbles, and Geto can distinctly see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. “She’s ten minutes late.”

Geto just huffs.

“What exactly is your problem?” Gojo asks instantly, and Geto can feel him shift to face him. “You’ve been glaring at me this entire time.”

Feeling that final straw snap, Geto spins to face Gojo in return, narrowed eyes focusing in on his own as Geto shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Gojo just laughs; “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Geto scoffs; “not by me.”

“Still butt hurt that Y/N invited me along?” Gojo taunts, looking entirely too smug as he steps closer to Geto. Gojo might be shorter, but only by an inch, and it isn’t hard for him to size Geto up just as easily as Geto is trying to size him up. “You think I’m all that happy about you being here either?”

“Then leave?” Geto questions, as if that was the obvious answer–which, obviously, it was. “I’m the one who asked Y/L/N first so really, you aren’t needed here whatsoever.”

Gojo just leans back; “if I left I’d be doing exactly what you want. Last I checked, Y/N does want me here.”

Feeling his head hurt and his body tense, Geto shoves at his shoulder; “what’s with the lack of formality? You refer to Y/L/N so casually, I didn’t realize you guys were that close.” Pausing in thought (for dramatic effect), Geto glowers at Gojo. “Last I checked, Y/L/N didn’t even know who you were before a couple days ago.”

“What?” Gojo raises a brow challengingly, “jealous we’re close enough that she calls me ‘Satoru’?” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Gojo leans back. “She says it so prettily, too, don’t you think? I mean, I absolutely love the way she says my name.

He truly was unbelievable. Geto didn’t realize there could be someone who pissed him off so damn much… He’s never really liked the guy, and despite the fact that for most of his life Geto has unfortunately gone to the same school as Gojo, his level of hatred was reaching a height it never had before.

Before, Gojo was just some annoying guy Geto didn’t bother to pay attention to. Not if he didn’t have to.

He can still remember the way he’d felt seeing the two of you laughing and talking that day on the bleachers – Geto was positive that he’s never seen the two of you talk before and certainly not enough to warrant such a friendly interaction. If Geto hadn’t calmed himself down before, he was sure he’d have made a fool out of himself when he interrupted the two of you but taking the calm approach seemed to have it’s rewards and Geto will never forget the look of stunned disbelief on Gojo’s face when you handed him his hoodie.

He’d definitely have to give you his clothes more – this time, have you wear them where everyone could see.

And then he’d thought he’d perfectly worked his way around your silly suggestion of hanging with Gojo – and then you just had to go and invite Gojo with the two of you? 

Geto didn’t realize you could be so oblivious.

Honestly—he’d told himself he’d try to play nice with Gojo, for you. Even if Gojo was there, it didn’t change Geto’s plan of trying to woo you and catch your attention. If Gojo wanted to hang back as a third wheel then that was his choice, Geto wasn’t going to let that stop him from making a move on you.

But really, he was at his limit. 

He couldn’t even think of ‘playing nice’ with Gojo when he was this egotistical.

Inhaling sharply, Geto moves to take a step towards Gojo, Gojo straightening out in response, before your familiar voice calls out;

“Ooh! I’m so sorry!”

Both Geto and Gojo freeze at the sound of your voice, eyes shifting to fall on you as you come to a slow step before them. You’re panting, pressing a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath, making it clear you’d run here, but what really catches Geto’s attention is what you’re wearing.

A flowery, pink sundress. It had cute puffy sleeves and the material bunched around your chest with a bow, with the length of the skirt stopping just above your knees. It swayed gently in the wind, brushing upwards to show the faintest hint of your upper thighs. The whole outfit was put together with some accessories, cute sandals and a hairstyle Geto had never seen you wear at school before.

Geto, despite himself, feels his cheeks grow pink, a flush hitting him as he quickly glances away from you to situate himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought you were pretty before (that was abundantly clear given his actions) but it was a little different seeing you in something other than your school uniform. And, technically, the arcade hadn’t counted—given that he’d dumped soda all over your blouse before he could properly take in what you were wearing.

A quick glance at Gojo tells him his reaction isn’t that much different.

“My mom needed my help with something and I completely lost track of time!” You explain, turning to them with a worried expression as you finally manage to catch your breath properly. “Were you guys waiting for long?”

“Not at all–!”

“No–!” 

Lips left parted, Geto glares at Gojo out of the corner of his eye—Gojo returns it with ease.

“O-Oh,” you mumble, briefly glancing at the both of them in confusion before taking a step towards them. “Well, then… should we get going?”

Without hesitation, Geto steps forward before Gojo has the chance to and flashes a soft smile in your direction; “let’s go.”

[n4nase]

somethin' stupid

| you and toji, the love in your relationship severed many years ago-- but kept together solely by your children and the agreement to keep a complete household for your children. toji understands that you may not love him as much anymore; but the admiration for you is ongoing, eternal.

based on the song somethin' stupid - frank sinatra, nancy sinatra!

! toji fushiguro x female reader, sorta angst, comfort, established relationship,.... idk

-

' i know, i stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me'

"y/n, do you wanna go out for a drink tonight..?" toji asked shyly. a small amount of blush creeped into his cheeks, dark black strands of hair just slightly covering his eyes. "--i mean, we've been on edge lately.. i thought i could treat you..." he continued after a small silence. fiddling with the bottom of his shirt as he awaited your response.

you agreed.

*'and if we go someplace to dance, i know that there's a chance you wont be leaving with me.'

you guys walked beside each other that night, a little closer than you guys usually do. toji felt the warmth of your body radiate onto his. he was happy settling at that closeness. you could hear the aura of party downtown-- the same aura felt the day you guys first met.

toji wanted to take you somewhere meaningful that night. he feared losing you more than he already has.

*'then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two..'

you and toji stopped in front of a small jazz bar. you used to always want to adventure to jazz bars with toji, daydream about you and him in themed attire to enjoy a peaceful night at the bar.

"you've always wanted to come here right?.." toji sort of mumbled. it was hard for him to talk to you when it wasn't about the kids.

you hummed in satisfaction, taking a sip of the drink that toji ordered for you-- the classic, its been years and he still knows you well.

"thank you, toji." you looked into his eyes. they glistened a little, the light reflecting off of his alluring green eyes.

*'and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like,'

"you're welcome, i love you." he said softly. those three words being the loudest of the restaurant chatter happening throughout the bar. you tilted your head slightly. you blushed a little. but no reaction.. do you love him still?

toji thought you didn't. your lack of response had confirmed things for him.

'i can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before'

you swirled your drink softly. the nights he had come home exhausted, the days you felt neglected by him. you both failed to nurture each other. it was exhausting when you bombarded each other at the wrong times.

regrets, a marriage of love.. feelings of regret. are there some things that we should have gotten over..? it hurt.

'and though its just a line to you for me its true and never seemed so right before..'

but despite those feelings of hurt. toji still loved you after it all. unconditionally. but you didn't love him back.

even so. the air was thick between you two. the remembered feelings and memories attached to jazz bars had caused you two to reminisce.

'i practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true...'

toji tried. every morning, he would try to come knocking on your (separate..) bedroom door to ask for you to fix his tie perfectly as you did before. or bring you breakfast in the mornings as you woke up.

he ended up covering your plate in saran wrap. a small note attached with the rilakkuma sticky notes you had purchased.

he had to watch a youtube video on how to fix his tie.

'but then i think i'll wait until the evening gets late and i'm alone with you.'

he played with the straw in his cup. he looked at you for a while. you knew that, you let him.

'the time is right your perfume fills my head'

you walked back together. you had .. many drinks extra, clinging onto his arm as he guides the two of you back home. your familiar scent lingering onto him. he breathed in heavily--the fresh cold air purifying his thoughts.

'the stars get red, and oh, the nights so blue'

he daydreamed about moments like this with you. for years almost. to be this close with you again. he looked up at the sky. you stumbled a little, grasping his arm a little tighter.

he pulled out your spare pair of shoes. sitting you down to slip your heels off gently and hold them for you. he knew your feet were hurting.

a habit he built, because he loved you.

'and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like,'

your breath showed in the soft lighting of the night. blush tainting your cheeks and nose perfectly. you could not do anything but stare.

when you’re drunk, its your subconscious right?..

"i love you." you softly said.

a/n: i CLEARLY am a first time writer. saur many typos but im fixing them i swear plzzz i dont know how to work this

[cuubism]

Hope for the Future

~2k, Dreamling, 1589 era, post-Eleanor's death, dream conversations and revelations. cw death in childbirth

Dream and Hob meet at Eleanor's deathbed, in a fashion.

--

Ages ago I wrote Patron Saint, a fic about Hob's friendship with Death. For a while I wanted to write a companion piece from Dream's POV since Dreamling is a background ship in that fic but their trajectory is different from canon. But lbr it's been 2 years and I haven't done that-- early on, though, I did write one scene from Dream's POV because I wanted to flesh out a potential moment that Death mulls on in Patron Saint, when she was visiting Hob after Eleanor and the baby died:

“So many babies die,” Hob says. “Mothers, too, I—” he runs a hand through greasy, disheveled hair. “Do you think it will be better in the future? Because I haven’t seen that much improved. Not in my time.” “I imagine so, yes,” Death says. Dream would be able to answer this question for him better. Dream would be able to tell him what doctors might be imagining solutions to the problem, what midwives were dreaming of new ways to care for their charges. Hope for the future is Dream’s business, whether he accepts it or not. She wishes Dream were here. She has a strong feeling Hob would find even his stoic pretense at apathy comforting. Caring for others is strange like that.

Anyway I wanted that scene, I wrote that scene, I didn't write anything else to flesh out a companion piece but I think it stands on its own and can be understood even without reading the original fic.

--

Dream would assert that he did not care about Hob Gadling. He was not interested in Hob Gadling, beyond a passing curiosity in his approach to humanity, sated every hundred years. He was certainly not thinking about Hob Gadling, or his wife and small child and knighthood and other life goals he’d managed to accrue in this century. 

And yet, as he felt a particularly vicious nightmare go for Hob in his sleep, not long after their last meeting, he took note. 

He wasn’t sure why he took note. Perhaps because Hob had been on such a disgusting high last they’d met, it seemed strange for this to happen now. Perhaps because he knew this nightmare particularly well, had crafted it from deep in his own soul, as he so rarely did.

He followed the thread of the nightmare. 

Hob was running. Both from and after something at once. A darkness chased him. And another darkness retreated from him.

“Wait!” he yelled, reaching for it. Smoke slipped through his hands. Hob heaved for breath, stumbling to a stop as he ran out of air. He leaned on his knees, panting and coughing. “Wait,” he sobbed, but the darkness did not wait.

The other wave of darkness caught him, knocking him off his feet so he sprawled on the ground, hands scraping on the dirt. It didn’t attack him, just hovered over him like a blanket of fog, blocking the meager light. 

“You weren’t supposed to go,” Hob said into the darkness. It didn’t reply.

It was not an unreasonable nightmare for a father to have, Dream knew well enough. But the sharpness of those dark shadows – this nightmare was not pure fiction. It was drawing more from memory than he’d thought.

“Enough of this drama,” he commanded the nightmare. “Show me the truth of things.”

The scene of darkness faded to reveal an ordinary, if well-appointed bedroom. An air of sickness hovered, and death also – Dream could feel the echo of his sister near. 

A sickly woman, heavily pregnant, lay in the bed, and it was she that Dream knew was calling Death forth. She, and the tiny baby cradled in her womb, not quite ready to be born, and now would never be.

And Hob – not dying, he couldn’t, but he looked about as close to it as a man could come. Ashen, shaky, trembling.

“I love you,” he was saying, kissing Eleanor’s hand. “You know?”

This was still a dream, and this had all already occurred, Dream knew. There was nothing he could do here, not that he would. He turned to go, feeling stiff and cold in a way he decidedly did not like, when Hob looked up, and saw him.

Dream had not meant to be seen.

“My friend,” said Hob, surprise temporarily wiping the grief from his features. “You’re here.”

“I… am,” Dream conceded, and, drawn in despite himself, sat in a chair beside Hob. 

“I’m grateful for it,” said Hob. Dream didn’t know what he could possibly be providing that Hob was grateful for. Then, “There’s no hope, is there? I mean. I don’t know why I’d think you would know.”

Dream looked at the mother and baby before him. Hob had called him friend. A friend, he thought, would tell Hob that there was always hope. But that was not what Dream believed.

“I do not think so,” he said. “I am… sorry.”

Hob sighed. He was still holding Eleanor’s hand. “I have to tell you, I– whatever I might’ve said to you at our last meeting, I’m struggling to feel any of it right now.”

“That is understandable.” More understandable, Dream thought, than his declaration of Life is rich! that Dream had found so hard to swallow.

“I’ve known others who’ve lost wives, children,” Hob said, and Dream looked down. Hob would have no way of knowing who those others might have included. “But I guess I always thought, not me, never me, never my Eleanor. Not until she was old and gray, anyway. But I guess everyone thinks that, don’t they?”

“Perhaps.” Dream thought he himself had always known the cost would come due. Destiny might have said that was one of the reasons it did come due. You make your own end. But that would not help Hob.

“It’s got to get better,” Hob asserted. “It’s got to. It’s got to stop some day, doesn’t it? All these children, and mothers dying.”

The instinct to sneer at his optimism jumped up Dream’s throat, but he managed to bite it off. He did not want to be… cruel, he realized, to someone who was suffering. Especially within a dream; dreamers’ minds were not for him to subject to his own feelings.

“In Guangzhou,” he started slowly, the dreams coming to him like a light rainfall, “there is a doctor who has just crafted a new medicine to ease pain during childbirth. She has been dreaming of it for years. In Oyo, a healer is learning to tell earlier and earlier when a pregnancy is troubled, that they might intervene in time. A few months more, and they will have it. And down the street, here in London, a midwife is just planting the seeds for the hospital she will open to help unwed mothers with nowhere to turn.”

Hob stared at him. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“Dreamers abound,” Dream said, “but it takes time for their work to come to fruition.”

Hob continued to watch him. Something shifted in his eyes, as he looked at Dream. Dream wasn’t certain he liked it. 

“You know everything, don’t you?” Hob said.

“Not everything.”

“You know all of that,” Hob mused, “all these things that are happening. And… you still come to ask me if I wish to live?”

Dream bristled, and Hob raised his hands in surrender. “Never mind, never mind, forget I said anything. You’re entitled to your own feelings on the matter. Thank you, for those stories. It helps. Truly. And I’m glad that I’ll get to see it. One day.”

“‘One day,’” Dream echoed. “‘One day’ is a time when no children die and no famine walks the earth, when soldiers break their swords before the fight, and later bread with their enemies. One day is always one step into the future, Hob Gadling. Ever-moving.”

“Aye,” said Hob. “That’s the point.” 

Dream frowned. What pleasure could be derived from wanting and wanting, and never having, he could not fathom. He had crafted nightmares thus. What hope to find in hope itself continually being dashed?

“I look forward to seeing you every century, you know that?” Hob added. “No matter what else happens. Bad days, or good ones.”

Dream kept frowning, unsure of the connection.

“It’s important to have those things,” Hob said. He squeezed Eleanor’s still hand. “Even now. Especially now.” 

In Dream’s own… aftermath… he could not imagine finding comfort in anything. What help could some nebulous future date possibly be?

“If that is what helps you,” he said. 

Hob cast him a look like he just knew that Dream didn’t get it, and it rankled. But there was no true criticism in that look. Hob looked at him with an unfathomable fondness, always.

He turned back to Eleanor, just gazing at her face with an expression Dream found difficult to witness in its softness. Were this the waking world, she would have certainly passed by now. But moments could freeze indefinitely in the Dreaming.

“Do you think I’ll forget her?” Hob asked quietly, still looking at his wife. “The details of her face, I mean? Her voice? What she smelled like? My memory’s far from perfect, and there’s a lot of time for it to fade.”

Dream knew without having to actively make the vow to himself that he would be sending frequent dreams Hob’s way to ensure he did not. He should not do so. He should not interfere. 

But.

“There are some things one does not forget,” he said.

Hob swiped at his eyes. He was crying now. “S’pose you’re right.”

If Dream was any sort of friend – and he was not sure that he was, though Hob had declared him so – he would end this dream now and spare Hob any further torment of reliving this memory. 

Instead, he sat beside him, far longer than he intended. Sat in silence, listened to Hob’s breaths, his sniffles as he cried, the subtle movements of continued life. He stayed in this sea of human endings and sickness and grief. With Hob. Something unnameable sitting heavier and heavier within him. And more than once he told himself to rise and to end the dream, and he did not. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hob finally said, when much time had passed and they still sat side-by-side. And it was this that finally reminded Dream that he should not be.

“I should leave you,” he said, standing abruptly. “This dream is–”

“Wait.” Hob took his hand. Dream should– Dream should yank it away in offense. He should take his leave of Hob instantly for the familiarity, the daring. 

He did not. He merely stood frozen as Hob pressed his hand between both of his own. His touch was very warm.

“Keep all those things in mind,” Hob said. His eyes still glittered with tears, but his words were steady. “Those infinite things you know about the world. Wherever you’re going.”

“I have much in mind at all times,” Dream told him. Hob had no idea how much. 

Hob smiled at him sadly. “I’m sure. Just think about it, okay? Those doctors in those faraway places. Alright?”

Dream studied him, but gleaned no additional information from it. “Very well,” he said at last.

Hob squeezed his hand once more, then let him go.

A friend might comfort him again, in these circumstances. But Dream was not certain it was necessary. He could see in Hob, even now, the spine of a man who would not break, even when he was so far down.

It was… curious.

Hob bid him farewell, eyes just crinkling at the corners. “Until we meet again, dear stranger.”

Dream stepped back into the comforting arms of the Dreaming proper, discomfited by the moment in a way he could not quite pin down, and by his own willingness to stay and engage in it at all. To involve himself in Hob’s life in a way he had not intended. 

“Until then, Hob Gadling,” he said, letting the scene dissolve around them, “this dream is over.”

[apostaterevolutionary]

Collecting some thoughts on veilguard cause tbh I really don’t know how to feel lmao so. Unstructured ramble time

I’ve watched the trailer and the demo and I feel very. Idk? Still ‘wait and see’ mode for me. It’s been 10 years. Inquisition imo was the weakest of the 3. And while I have kind of moved on from DA there is a part of me that wants this to just blow everything out of the water and be amazing. I’m just not sure if that’s what I think will happen. Right now, I just think it doesn’t feel dragon age-y enough (in terms of what I, personally, consider the defining traits of the series) but I don’t want to jump to conclusions with so little information

The trailer was. Fine. Vibes were a little off but given its Varric narrating, it makes sense (also. Unpopular opinion lmao. I love Varric but I don’t think he should be a companion again. If there’s a carry over companion, it should have been Dorian. And tbh he could still be there, considering they said 7 companions but Varric is not included in that. So did they mean 7 *new* companions and maybe a few others? Advisors again maybe? Idk. Maybe Varric is a temporary companion, but I don’t think he should be there except maybe as a cameo. Scout Harding is an unexpected but fine carry over though). I don’t really have an opinion yet on the companions themselves cause there’s just. Nothing to base an opinion on other than the character designs

Gameplay demo shows that they’re definitely going very Inquisition-y. As in, continuing further down the path it started. Which isn’t unexpected, but is a bit disappointing, though not necessarily a dealbreaker as of yet. It’s probably smart tbh to go more in an action rpg direction than back to the crpg roots given it’s going to be compared to bg3 no matter what they do - better to differentiate as much as possible. Though I don’t think that’s why they did it, probably more a happy accident. I just. Idk, I found inquisitions combat a bit boring and I haven’t been impressed by what I’ve seen yet. But a 20 minute demo is probably not enough to really form an opinion

I feel like you can still see the echoes of this being a live service game at one point too. Healing potions coming from pots found in the environment (I never got over healing spells being cut btw lmao, bring back spirit healers already), the “ability wheel” (unsure about that too, given it sounds like we can’t control companion characters anymore? Kinda really don’t like that :/), stuff like that. I still feel like DA2 combat was the perfect balance between fluidity and strategy but it is what it is. It performed badly, so they’ve disregarded it wholesale rather than consider that some aspects of it may still be worth exploring. It sucks, but that’s capitalism I guess

As for all the other little things, idk, I really am not sure what to think yet lmao. Some sound good. Some less good (why only 2 companions, I don’t like that at all - also weird that the demo shows you won’t have a tank for the initial bit of the game. That’s a weird choice). Nothing to make me go aaaaaa either positively or negatively yet. I don’t even know what to say. My feelings are just so complicated about it, but also kinda empty at the same time. Like. It’s a bit of kombucha girl meme but also muted? I would like to feel just. More about it. But I don’t yet. I’m too unsure. Not quite numb, but almost tbh

At this stage, I feel like I’m gonna wait till it comes out and see what happens. No pre-ordering until I get a better idea. It’s like. With origins, I’ve played it a lot. DA2, even more - countless times lmao. Inquisition though, I played 2.5 times immediately after release and have tried to play it multiple times since but. I only ever get 10-20 hours in before I get bored and can’t make myself continue. I’ve tried many, many times and idk why but I just can’t do it. I never even played any of the DLC, so like. I kinda need to do that first if I’m gonna play veilguard but I have never succeeded before so idk how I will now lmao. But I feel like at least trespasser is necessary and I have genuinely never played it. And I gotta play the rest of the game first to get there and I genuinely don’t know if I can sksksjs

And with that in mind like. If inquisition is that unappealing to me, a game that feels very inquisition-y, potentially leaning even more into the stuff I didn’t like about it, is. Definitely not what I was hoping for. It’s still possible it’s leagues better than inquisition and actually playing it will be a great experience. But right now I just don’t know. I probably won’t be able form any kind of opinion until it comes out and I start getting info from trusted folks that I know have good DA opinions lmao

Idk. I’m not trying to be a wet blanket or a hater, and I genuinely don’t think I am being a hater at all, but I am just. Very tired and nervous. But also cautiously hopeful. I’ve said ‘idk’ a lot lmao but I truly don’t know at this stage. I guess we’ll see. Let’s hope it’s actually amazing and the very thing we need to make the series as a whole feel like it used to for us lapsed DA fans