#there's so much to this its honestly almost impossible to answer in an ask

[daughterofyourdarklord]

Delphini gets given a diary by her uncle Lucius right before she leaves on the train to Hogwarts with the simple but profound statement 'it was your fathers'.

On the back in gold block capital lettering is the name 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE'.

What happens next... ?

The pages are blank. Delphini may be young but she’s no fool. There is a wonderful magic that radiates from this empty book, its gilt page ends shimmering even in the darkness of Hogwart's dungeons. Delphini sleeps with it just beside her bed, she stares at it long into the night wondering when it might be safe to explore. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle. It sounds so wrong - plain. It couldn’t (shouldn’t) belong to her father. Still, her fingers trace the engraving constantly, a sense of familiarity comes every time she touches the leather. The pages are still blank. 

Dumbledore seems to have a set of eyes just for Delphini. She can feel his gaze tearing into her in the Great Hall - even when he’s not looking. Their magic is all over her, she knows that much, the traces of it obvious - dark. Dumbledore couldn’t possibly recognize that… could he? She suspects the Headmaster has a hunch, if there was any sort of proper evidence to go off of Delphini very much doubts she’d have been allowed past the castle gates. 

The pages are blank - until they are not. It is a dreary October afternoon when she finally allows herself to bring a Quill to the paper. She dates the corner, watching as the ink seeps into the paper. She waits. Nothing. 

‘Delphini Cassiopeia Black’. She writes it in large bold letters right in the center of the page. This quickly fades too and she feels a sense of frustration budding inside her. That’s it? It takes a moment before - ‘Is that so?’ - something writes back, the handwriting perfect. Delphini’s heart is in her throat. ‘For as long as I have been alive.’ She answers, sharing her birth date with the pages for good measure. ‘Not just a Black.’ It tells her. 

‘What is this magic?’ It’s a few days before she can muster up the courage to ask. She’s figured her father must’ve charmed the pages something fierce when he was young. That whatever is responding back to her is just the subset of a protection spell. Or that perhaps her magic is merely resonating with the bit of his that was left behind? Perhaps he even spelled the notebook in jest? To deter anyone who dare try to decipher the pages? Still, it feels much too powerful for the magic to simply be residual... ‘Not what - who.’ 

‘You are my father.’ She asks and tells it. There is memory to this magic, like a person - a soul. ‘How did you come to possess this diary, Delphini?’ 

‘So, you are still alive?’ They’ve been telling her as much but it has gotten harder and harder to believe as the years went on. ‘What can I do - how can I bring you back home?’ 

It takes time, but eventually she learns that He is somewhere in Albania and that, yes, He is very much alive. It’s after Hols that he instructs her down to the chamber. Delphini offers herself to him quickly, already so loyal, so ready to serve, so eager for His praise.

She meets the basilisk who quickly bends to the will of the heiress. It is almost strange, she spent her whole life only ever acknowledging herself as a Black, being the last in a long line of Salazar Slytherin's descendants certainly has its perks. The basilisk reminds her of herself - lonely, hiding.

Over summer they agree to keep the snake confined to the chamber - for now. Such sudden deaths would very quickly get Dumbledore's unwanted attention and Delphini has already explained to her father her concerns regarding the Headmaster. Turns out he very much shares in the sentiment.

Whatever piece of her father that lives within the pages refuses to take her life-source. ‘Find us someone we can manipulate, bring them here.’ It’s her first mission. 

It takes time, finding the perfect victim. Luckily, Delphini is well practiced in patience.

She terrorizes Neville Longbottom because she can. And why shouldn’t she? He makes it too easy and that look on his face is too hilarious. Still, witches and wizards would notice if he were to somehow turn up missing. She needs a mudblood, or perhaps someone even less relevant? It would be so much easier if her insipid half-blood cousin were still traipsing around the school. 

Delphini spends several nights a week in the chamber practicing magic at her father’s written instruction. It’s on her walking back one evening, when she is forced to duck into a nearby classroom to escape a Prefect, that she finds it. The classroom is quiet and Delphini even quieter, she turns readying her exit before startling immediately. It takes her a second to realize it’s her own reflection that frightened her, only.. It’s not just her. Delphini is mesmerized, she recognizes them instantly. Her father looks proud, her mother looks loving, they are exactly as she remembers them and strangers at the same time. 

She suggests they use Harry Potter. Two birds one stone, petty revenge and everything in-between. She hates the half-blood so much she can hardly even look at him but would revel in the chance to watch on as he chokes on his own blood. He deserves to suffer. 'The boy remains alive - for now.'

It takes time, and much more patience, but one day, her father sends the perfect victim straight to her. 

Professor Quirrell follows her down the wet and winding corridors, sputtering the whole way.

Finally. 

[loser-jpg]

hate teacher.

so angry.

he told me my 6 months worth of work has to be scrapped and entirely redone in 2 weeks. thats literally impossible. i am the tiniest inconvenience away from having an entire meeting with him to read him a 5 page essay on how he has been of no help this entire semester and last and how he has done nothing but inconvenience me all year.

hes seen the work many times before but only brought up the issue now. 2 weeks before a progress report. He told me the thing hes been having me work on for an entire month cant be part of my progress report because its not specific enough.

IF THIS WAS GOING TO BE A PROBLEM HE WOULD HAVE ALREADY KNOWN AND HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME BEFORE I WAS 6 MONTHS IN.

he blatantly holds favoritism as every other student (they all happen to be cis men) get all the help in the world yet i get no help at all and when he tells me i have to scrap all my work he doesnt even point me in the right direction just says redo it you have 2 weeks.

this is a group project but every other group is doing one project with all people working together yet mine is doing one project each person meaning i cant even get assistance. two of the people in my group HAVE NOT SPOKEN A WORD TO ME SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR.

he is also needlessly rude. instead of just politely saying there might be an issue he feels the need to make me feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. I am half convinced this man finds joy in publicly humiliating and shaming me in any way possible. You are a grown ass man what the actual fuck. You are in your god damn 50s.

[rapunzelbro]

The amount of times I have refreshed the angel dust x reader tag----Anywayyyy, I dunno if you do hurt/comfort (if not that's okay please ignore this lol) but here is a idea for a oneshot! GN!reader x angel dust where they're in a secret relationship because he's trying to protect you at all cost from his boss (reader can know about his situation or not its up to you!) but Valentino somehow found out about it and is pissed about it. You can use creative freedom to fill in the angst parts and whatever happens next, but please make it have a happy ending ^^

Imagine being in a Secret Relationship with Angel

Omg yeah I can! I wish there were more too so haha I shall provide I suppose. This is uh. Super angst. But I promise it’ll be a happy ending lmao I promise. Thank you for requesting. Just a reminder yall my requests are still open! Just give as much details and I’ll make it happen. Anywho enjoy!

Masterlist Character Taglist

Being in a relationship with Angel Dust wasn’t often easy, Well at first that is.

When you first met Angel he always had his guard up, on some sort of drug at all times, and pushed serious conversations aside with Sexual remarks to drop the conversation entirely

So when you were able to actually break his walls months later, it was honestly a shock to you. Because damn was he stubborn. Honestly you didn’t think it would be possible

He started telling you small things about himself after the first month of letting his walls down, introducing you to Fat nuggets, and watching movies with you.

After the third month, he tells you his real name is Anthony. You said it suits him and you swear you see him blush

The fourth month is when you ask him out. He is super hesitant on accepting, but you don’t push him for an answer, he later comes in your room

“Y/N.. I.. I want to say yes, but I’m so terrified ya know? I just can’t I don’t know what would happen”

“Why would you be terrified?”

He tells you everything. Everything about the man who tears him apart, the man who hurts him on the daily.

He is trying to hard to explain how terrified he is of you getting hurt, and all you can do is gently take his hands as you look at him

“Angel, nothing will happen, no one needs to know but us. If you’re scared still, I get that, I’ve been there before. But I’m not scared of that prick, and he won’t find out okay?”

He finally makes eye contact with you and he begins to calm down, hugging you as you two just sit in silence before he quietly responds

“Then, I accept”

It’s months after that when he introduced you to his Best friend Cherri. You two are super hesitant about telling her, but you eventually decide to.

She’s super super happy for you two but don’t think she won’t get super protective

Will pull you aside at the club when Angel isn’t there

“If you hurt Angel you and I are going to have a problem okay? You break his heart I break you”

Yeah she scared the fuck out of you for that. Angel never did find out about your conversation.

It’s been almost a year of hiding your relationship when it suddenly begins to turn sour

The calls from Valentino, get more frequent, more violent on the phone.

Angel comes back to the hotel limping, bruised and bloody

You practically sprint and grab him, carrying him to his room take care of him the best you can, talk to him when he is ready, or be a shoulder to cry on.

Angel doesn’t know why Valentino is being more violent, he didn’t do anything wrong, he kept your relationship so quiet that it was basically impossible for him to know about you two

Except Valentino did find out. He heard Angel talking in his dressing room to you, he investigated throughly after Angel said I love you, to you.

Valentino got Vox to look at the cameras around Hell, he saw you two together. You don’t hold hands at all, not in public, if it wasn’t for that phone call, he wouldn’t of thought anything of it

“That little whore is going to fucking pay”

You and Angel are at Val’s bar after Angel reassured you he wouldn’t be there. You two are talking when Angel stands up to grab you more shots

That’s when Valentino appears, gun pressed up to the back of your head

“I Wouldn’t move an inch if you want to live perra tonta~”

You’re absolutely frozen as can be. You don’t move a bit as he leans closer to you

“I have all eyes on you, I know you’re with Angel Dust, you’re fucking with my property. Now here’s how things are going to go down tonight if you want your precious Angel Cakes to live. You’re going to break up with him, and stay the FUCK away from him. Do I make myself clear?”

You are silent visibly shaking as he presses the gun harder as he becomes impatient with you

“Do I make myself clear!”

He sounds absolutely pissed as you quickly nod your head frantically

“Perfect, now fucking leave”

You don’t have time to explain to Angel Dust but you leave before he makes it back with your shots, Valentino is no where to be found.

“Y/n? Where did you go” “Amore mio?”

You didn’t reply to his texts, you didn’t know what to do, you were trapping yourself in your room.

You were in a panicked state as the tears just didn’t seem to stop, nothing made sense, you two were so so careful? How did you fuck up?

Angel knocked at your door. No answer. He knocked again before he eventually used the spare key you gave him, which you forgot about

Angel instantly rushed over to you when he saw you crying, which caused you to flinch

He instantly froze in his tracks when he saw you flinch, concern building

“Y/N what happened.. why are you crying”

You are struggling through sobs as you explain what happened, Angel is so fucking pissed he can hardly contain it but has to for you, he just listens as he sits next to you

“Amore mio, i shouldn’t of I left you alone I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that asshole found out but I’m not fucking this relationship up because of him”

“But he will kill me”

“Sweetie, there’s a thing called acting you know, all we have to do is play the part, pretty easy for me, as you’ve seen.”

He takes your hands with a slight smirk

“I’m not letting him fuck this up okay? Who cares what he thinks? Val is literally blind as shit, I’m surprised he even knew it was you. Probably had to have someone point you out to him”

Yeah that made you laugh, which Angel was thankful for.

For then on, you two had your ‘breakup’. You were never seen in public together, or not without disguises. You had most dates alone at the hotel together

You weren’t letting the one good thing to happen end because of a stupid fucking moth

And he wasn’t going to either.

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15 @molarloo

[apparentlytheproblem]

j e a l o u s y

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- sirius black

a/n: im so sorry it took so long, my questions are flooded and im trying my best but regardless my requests are open luvs :)

so this is actually kind of based on a boy i liked (like) and i can't say its been as happy as this but that's where i found a bit of my inspiration for this and its honestly eh

requested- yes

warnings- there is a bit of insecurities and doubt showing, mature themes, jealousy (if that wasn't obvious), it could be seen as toxic, mention of a vagina

siri's masterlist . navigation

Sirius absolutley loathed Bertram Aubrey with every being in his body. His name itself was a bad omen, it was as if conjuring the evil spirits if anyone dared to acknowledge his presence anywhere near Black.

It's always, Aubrey is a liar, Aubrey is a cheat, Aubrey has no backbone, but Sirius would never admit why he targeted him so much without a second glance. his feud all led down to the same road

Bertram fancied the girl he's been pinning on for over two years and what has become of him when he was so easily placed at the smae level as him? he's never had a problem with winning people over with his charisma.

So when he saw Aubrey anywhere near you, a cold sweat ran down his back. he had nothing to be afraid of. he knew you would never chose him, he could never be Sirius fuckin Black.

but why was there a burning sensation when his hands brushed yours, when you smiled back at him? it made the gryffindor see absolute red.

you were pulled into a broom closet in the middle of a an abandoned and dusty hallway by a familiar hand with familiar rings.

only a dim light entered the wooden box, enough to see an annoyed and arrogant face.

"Why are you so worked up?"

his right hand slid up your waist bringing you impossibly close to him while the other rested under your arse. he lightly nudged you to lean and place your support on the wooden surface as he observed your words.

"Because I can't stand the sight of him near you," Sirius whispered, his voice low and dangerous. hot.

His grip tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. do you know when you feel butterflies in your stomach? you felt it in your pussy instead. she was aching. god.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body pressed against yours in the confined space of the closet. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of betrayal.

"But he's just a friend," you protested weakly, trying to lightly push against his chest to create some distance between you, but Sirius wouldn't budge.

"friend huh?" he scoffed, his tone dripping with disbelief. "He wants more than that, and you know it. I've seen the way he looks at you. Its how I look at you."

You swallowed nervously, feeling the weight of Sirius's accusations. There was a part of you that wanted to deny it, to reassure him that Bertram meant nothing to you. But another part, a small and treacherous part, couldn't deny the thrill of attention from someone like Bertram.

Sirius seemed to sense your internal struggle, his grip softening slightly as he searched your face for answers. "Do you wanna fuck him huh?" he asked, almost hesitantly, as if afraid of the answer.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How could you admit to Sirius, to yourself, the conflicting emotions swirling inside you?

Before you could form a coherent response, Sirius leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. "tell me baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "who do dream of?"

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. And in that moment, with Sirius so close you could feel the heat of his body, you realized that the answer didn't matter.

All that mattered was the pull between you, the undeniable magnetism that drew you together despite everything else.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in Sirius's hair as you pulled him closer, closing the gap between you in a desperate kiss that left no room for doubt.

The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that had been simmering between you for far too long. Sirius's hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in each other, the world outside the closet fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break the kiss, but you remained pressed against each other, chests rising and falling in unison as you tried to catch your breath.

"You. Only you." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless exhale.

But Sirius shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That's what I thought" he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

[talesofesther]

golden ballads

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Requested by multiple anons for my Christmas Special event.

A/N: First of all, I just wanted to say thank you so much for 7k followers, ily. Second, this prompt was requested by a lot of people, and I won't be answering each individual ask, so if you requested prompt 18 or 13 with her, this is for you. Lastly, I changed the setting a little bit to fit the story better. <3

Masterlist

"Would you give me this honor?"

Classical music played in the background as you spoke, stretching a hand towards Wednesday. A couple of other students — mostly their parents honestly — had already gathered the courage to dance in the middle of the big ballroom.

It was the school's yearly end-of-the-year party. Attendance wasn't mandatory, but when you asked Wednesday to be your partner for the night, she didn't have it in herself to say no.

There was a huge Christmas tree shining obnoxiously behind you, its ornaments almost covering the green leaves completely, but it did give you a warm yellow glow that was hard to call anything other than enchanting.

"Only because it would be too sad to reject you in front of these many people," Wednesday told you as she grabbed your hand and got up from her seat.

"Sure thing," you smirked, finding utmost adorable the way she refused to give in to her own desires.

The ballroom was gorgeous, an elegant contrast to when it housed the Rave'n party. All chandeliers had their lights on for a change, there were a few Christmas lights attached to the walls, and the tables had white and golden ornaments on them as they framed the round dancefloor, and of course, the main attraction was the ten feet tall Christmas tree on the center.

You led Wednesday to one of the most secluded spots of the ballroom, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

"Step on my feet and I will kick you." She warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You turned to face Wednesday with a smirk, raising your joined hands so you could press your palms together, your fingers intertwining with hers in a loving yet timid gesture.

Wednesday didn't hesitate on placing her free hand on your shoulder, silently giving you permission to hold her waist. You did so with a tender touch, your palm sliding along her hip bone until your fingertips traced her spine.

You watched the way her eyes traveled over your face, focusing first on your lips before she met your gaze with a slow blink.

The soft melody playing in the background set an easy rhythm for you to follow, swaying in tandem with Wednesday as her body stayed glued to yours; so close you became aware of every little movement she made. It brought goosebumps to your exposed skin.

After a few notes, you dared to take her hand and let go of her waist to twirl her around and then right back into your arms. The bold move pulled the tiniest smile from Wednesday, the blinking lights turning her pale skin a soft golden and highlighting the freckles of her cheeks.

Wednesday's black dress hugged her body beautifully, flowing with each of her steps and complimenting the few wisps of hair that got loose from her braids. Her lips had a burgundy paint to them; it got you wondering how many times you'd have to kiss her for it to wear off.

There was a strategically placed mistletoe near the back doors, undoubtedly the act of some students trying to get lucky. And when the music ended, you and Wednesday just so happened to be standing almost directly underneath it.

The last notes of your song faded just as another began in its place, people were chatting and drinking champagne around you, a few students laughing loudly near the Christmas tree only to receive a glare from Principal Weems. In some ways, it felt like you and Wednesday were detached from the real world and belonged only in this little moment.

She didn't say anything as she removed her hand from your shoulder, her black nails grazing the skin of your arm as she did so. You followed suit by dropping the hand you had on her waist.

But when Wednesday made no effort to let go of your intertwined hands, a tiny grin crept into your lips.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, indirectly asking what was so amusing.

"We're uh," you started, glancing up at the small thing, "we're right under a mistletoe, it means-"

"I know what it means." Wednesday cut you off, her chin angled a tad up as she pursed her dark lips.

"If you care about tradition, yeah," you chuckled nervously. On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Though there was a softness to the way she held herself that was quite hard to miss. "Ones that are meaningless and childish shouldn't even be called traditions." She stated before taking a breath.

The tip of her shoes bumped yours and only then you noticed that she took a step closer to you.

"Right," you mumbled, trapped in the spell that was her.

"Maybe just opportunities," Wednesday finished before she leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle peck.

She kissed you like the first flakes of snow do when they fall from the sky, gentle and tender yet steady with their intent; falling, falling, and falling until they melt.

Your lower lip was trapped between Wednesday's ones, your hands just about managing to close around the fabric of her dress before she was pulling back. Her nose bumped yours and you wanted to trap this moment in time like the snap of a picture.

Wednesday didn't go far, she was still breathing the same air as you when she pressed her lips together in a feeble attempt to correct her lipstick. She then raised a thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing away the smudged color there.

Oh, she had you wrapped around her cold fingers and she knew it. But it was in the way that her nails traced the skin of your jaw as she prolonged her touch on you as much as possible, that you knew she'd take good care of your heart.

"Now come," Wednesday tugged on your hand, "we still have a few more songs to make this night count."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part thirteen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve

-

Sephiroth has a really good body! So fast and strong! The force he can put into the simplest attacks is amazing!

It really is like he's suddenly possessing Liu Qingge - with decades of training and bodybuilding and power at his fingertips. He's almost jealous, and a little bit offended! If this is anything like what Liu-shidi is working with, ah - where was he coming from, asking his scholar shixiong for spars, huh?! As if Shen Qingqiu could match this!

Shen Qingqiu was a spiritual cultivator - his sword seals were stronger than his actual combat abilities, so that's what he mostly stuck to, letting his very capable sword do the talking. Especially with Without a Cure sapping his strength. Liu Qingge had tried to teach him, and he'd really tried to learn too, he'd thought he'd need all the advantages he could get when Luo Binghe came back, but, ah, he just didn't have it in him to train like that. It was so much work!

It's so effortless now, pulling off moves he'd learned as Shen Qingqiu but never quite had the physical strength to pull off properly. He feels weightless and without barriers, like there's nothing, no gravity, no physical limitations, nothing that could get in his way!

Not even Genesis.

"What the hell was that?!" the man demands, sprawled on the floor, staring up at him in deep offence.

Sephiroth is a villain, so smiling smugly is alright. "Your form is off," and swings his ridiculous beautiful Japanese blade down, until it almost touches the floor. "You need to work on your footing."

The sword is his biggest hindrance, honestly - followed closely by the too tight coat. It's not just the length of the blade, but the design. He's used to Shen Qingqiu's Xiu Ya, which is a two-edged straight jian sword, never mind the fact that it's a spiritual weapon. Masamune can't even be compared to a dao sword - which Shen Qingqiu had occasionally helped his disciples with, but which he'd never been particularly comfortable with. 

The blade is much thinner and more flexible than he's used to, and he really has to wonder how it hasn't been broken or at least chipped against Genesis' straighter, heftier sword. Those were some heavy blows!

Actually… 

Genesis jumps to his feet and swings his sword. "Again," he demands.

"Hang on a moment," Sephiroth says, considering his sword at length. Running a bare hand along the blade finds no dents, and the edge is as sharp as it was in the beginning. No chips. That's… impossible, right? It's just a katana blade. It's not a spiritual sword, it can't even heal itself.

Although it does have three marbles of Materia in its hilt. And there is something… it's not Qi, but there's something. The sword isn't exactly lifeless.

Lifting Masamune up, he sends a small fraction of Sephiroth massive, sluggish spiritual power into the blade, and - ah. It lights up with something similar to a sword glare. How interesting! That makes sense, since weapons like these are how people channel magic here. And he does recall a lot of sword beam types of attacks from the games!

"Do not throw that my way," Genesis says, holding his sword in front of him in a guard. "I will answer in kind, Sephiroth, I swear to Goddess."

"I wasn't about to," he answers with a snort and draws his energy back. Now that he's looking for it, he can still sense it.

So, Masamune is subtly drawing on his energy. It's not exactly how a spiritual weapon would do it, but it's… similar. Passive and constant. Hm. Maybe something to do with the metal itself? Fascinating - are all Materia-imbued weapons like this?

"Is Masamune alright?" Angeal asks worriedly, coming forward. "Did something happen?"

"It's fine," Sephiroth answers and lowers the sword. He nods to Genesis. "And yours?"

"The Rapier is just fine," Genesis says, swinging it as though shaking dirt if it. "No need to worry."

The… Rapier? "That is not a rapier."

"No, it's a broadsword, and I thought it was funny," Genesis sniffs and holds it straight up. "Rapier sounds more elegant. Mine is a weapon of finesse."

That's… surprisingly lighthearted for someone so dramatic. Well, he'd seen worse names for swords. And people.

"Now, again?" Genesis asks, swinging the sword challengingly down. "Or do you want to jump in, Angeal?"

"I think I'll watch a little bit more," Angeal says, stepping back again. "Remember, no magic."

"Yes, yes," Genesis says and holds his… Rapier in a guard. "Ready when you are, Sephiroth."

Taking in the man's posture with Shen Qingqiu's expert eye, he hums. "If you say so, Genesis," he says and shifts to a stance.

Now that he has some sense of his own energy running through Masamune, he has a much better grasp of the length and the curve. With it he dares to go a little faster, not having to worry about overreacting and hurting his opponent. He can also almost sense Genesis' sword now, and predict its movements.

It makes for a very short spar indeed.

"What the hell -" Genesis grumbles, again on the floor, and glares up at him. "Are you toying with me right now?!"

Heh. Kind of! "Your footing," he answers in his best villainous drawl, "Is weak."

"My footing is fine!"

"Then why are you on the floor?" 

Genesis mutters a curse and stands up, gripping Rapier's handle tightly. "Smug son of a bitch - I am going to end your legend here and now!"

The man attacks without warning, and it's such bad etiquette that Shen Qingqiu comes fully to the forefront. He ducks past Genesis' attack and whacks him on the butt with the flat of his sword in admonishment - and then, for a good measure, kicks his feet from under him.

"Footing," he says lazily while Genesis sputters at him in outraged offence - once more on the floor. "You let your sword's weight lead you too much. I know the blade is heavy and willful and wants to get its way - but you are the one guiding the blade, it's not supposed to be leading you."

Genesis gapes at him. "What the hell are you talking about?!" 

They're not spiritual swords, not exactly, so… "May I?" he motions at Rapier.

Genesis glares at him warily and stands up. He shares a confused, incredulous look with Angeal and then flips Rapier over, holding it out handle first.

Shifting Masamune to his off hand and holding it out of the way behind his back, Sephiroth takes Rapier, tests the weight, and then assumes the posture Genesis led with.

"You might have the strength to swing this thing around however you will, but the laws of leverage are still in effect," he explains. "This is a very heavy sword, and unless you weigh considerably more than you look, it will mess with your balance if you don't counteract it. When you swing," he demonstrates, "right now you are stepping up to follow the swing and so you're taking out your base of balance. And so you trip."

Genesis just stares at him, face completely blank. 

"Now, from the beginning, properly this time," Shen Qingqiu continues and demonstrates. "Plant your feet. Bend your knees. The movement begins from your hips, not your hand. From your hip, up the torso, to your arm. Your knees follow and support the movement. Feet stay on the ground. And… swing."

He swings the Rapier, a sweeping attack fit to take someone's head off. "Now, if you have to adjust to an opponent's block or attack, you can, because your wrist is still neutral - see? Like this I can easily adjust the angle of my swing without losing my footing, or the power of the attack."

Angeal slowly joins them while Genesis is still just staring blankly. They're both staring.

Feeling suddenly like he'd overstepped, Sephiroth hands the Rapier back and clears his throat. "So, as I said, footing. It's the same with your thrust," he mutters, looking away. "Don't just throw your whole body behind it like an idiot."

Genesis accepts the broadsword back dully and looks at Angeal. There's a moment of tense silence, and Sephiroth kinda wants to sink into the floor.

Awkward.

-

Shizun mode, activated.

(also I know fuck all about swordsmanship, so don't look too deeply into that)

[bambambunny]

Fatui Cat (Segment edition!) pt. 1

Warnings: like 1 swear and some fear of dottore from his segments. Oh and one of them drops the cat, dw its fine. This is more focused on the segment’s perspective but ill do cat POV next time.

Relationships: Platonic segments / cat!reader

Summary: The segments meet the cat. g/n pronouns pls lmk if i missed something.

Wc: 659 cries

Part 2

—-------------------------------------------------

The pursuit of knowledge never ends and thus, neither does the work of the segments. Each one, varying in ages and demeanors, bustles around the expansive lab with their own projects in hand. Of course, all must work to the Tzaritsa’s coup against heaven but such a large goal requires smaller tasks to build it up. 

One of the younger segments, physically he looks to be about 10, is trying to figure out a better healing formula for the hydro skirmishers (Some blond kid keeps causing trouble and their losses have been too great to ignore). That might seem like a rather complicated subject for a 10 year old, but this is a dottore segment we’re talking about, of course he can accomplish this. After all, failure at such a menial task would result in termination and we can't have that. He starts with a flask of hydro, adds some crushed up violet grass, a bit of this chemical, a bit of that, and a dash of –

Crash!

The young segment yelps and drops the vial and its contents. The other segments look up from their tasks at the sudden noise but the boy doesn’t notice. He looks down at the disturbance at his feet and finds a..cat? What in Her Majesty’s name is a cat doing here? He picks it up to the worried protest of an older segment and raises it up. The little thing does naught but blink at him. It has a belled collar so it must belong to somebody, and oh that somebody is going to be in a lot of trouble when Prime finds out it caused such a disturbance. 

“Ahem.”

The sound shoots a wretched cold up the segment’s spine as both he and the cat are shadowed by the imposing figure of Prime Dottore. He drops that cat and immediately turns to attention. He doesn’t hear the thing yelp in surprise.

“P-prime!”, shit. He’s not supposed to stutter, “Prime, sir.” Better.

“Care to explain the mess in your station?” Prime asks with a chilly calm.

“I was interrupted, sir, by that,” He points to the cat who is now rubbing itself, almost aggressively, on Dottore’s pant leg. 

“They just wandered in like they owned the place,” a segment pipes up, drawing Prime’s gaze. He is older and confident enough to insert himself into the conversation, most of the other segments wouldn’t dare. The young segment is relieved at the shift of attention away from him.

Prime chuckles. It isn’t with malice, thank god. 

“They might as well,” He picks up the cat with a surprising gentleness. Honestly, a few of the newer segments were surprised Prime didn't kick the poor thing.

“This is Zapolyarny Palace’s new royal cat - by order of Her Majesty.” Prime says with a flourish and barely restrained glee. Every segment in the room just stares at him, then at the cat, him again..is he serious? Since when was that a thing? If it has a title, does it have a job? Why then did it wander in here? Is it looking for pests? Impossible, the labs are kept meticulously – obsessively – clean (aside from the spill from earlier, must clean that up). A segment near the back raises his finger to ask a question but Prime cuts him off.

“As this cat has been blessed by the Tzaritsa, you will all treat them with respect. They may go where they please and none but the other harbingers and I may interact with it as I am now.” He puts the cat down and shoots a pointed look to the young segment, “You may return to your tasks. Oh and #7?”

“Yes, sir?” The little boy answers, slightly fearful of whatever punishment may come from dropping the cat.

“Do clean up this mess.”

And with that Prime Dottore leaves and all 7 segments stare at the now much more important feline sitting in front of the doorway

—-------------------------------------------------

A/N: hgnghgng sht im so so sorry this took like a month to write. I fell out of genshin and got obsessed with star wars and cries. I know its really short but im working on a part 2, just cant finish it cuz i have to sleep.

Taglist:

@etherisy @franc-1-s @assassinsnek101

(if you wanna be removed or added to the taglist pls comment)

[sourpatchys]

Tea Prompts, Tomura Shigaraki

You can find the original prompt post here!

Let me know if there are any other characters you’d like to see any of these prompts for! This was really fun!

Warning: some adult themes are thrown in here! This isn’t a NSFW piece but I did include some references to sexual activity, please read with caution if that’s not your cup of tea <3 (most of these are completely SFW)

A/n: these were written with a F!Reader in mind, most of them can be read either way! Though occasionally she/her pronouns are used<3

Masterlist Guidelines

Lemon Tea; What are Mornings like with them?

Tomura isn’t much of a sleeper— so mornings together tend to be rare and far between— but when he actually manages to sleep a full eight hours, the mornings you have together are very peaceful.

He isn’t a morning person by any means. He’s groggy, grumpy and completely nonverbal for the first hour or more. With you he can loosen up a bit, sliding his cold hands and feet into your general space, switching fingers every few minutes just to make sure they’re all warming up properly.

Some mornings he’ll wrap you in a bear hug that your absolutely positive could crack a few ribs— though you love it all the same.

This is the time you two have just to yourselves— no league, no missions, no plans for world domination— just two people laying in bed waiting for the sun to fully rise.

—

Peppermint tea; What do they get excited about?

A pretty obvious answer would be video games, but in all honesty, Tomura loves to talk.

To speak and be heard, to engage in conversation and bounce ideas back and forth— that’s what really gets him going. He loves to plot, to scheme and gossip about anything and everything.

Outwardly it’ll be nearly impossible to tell, he really isn’t the kind of guy who would let anyone know something this personal (so vulnerable), though everyone notices the spark in his eyes when he really gets going on a topic he’s passionate about.

If you were to ask follow up questions, to engage yourself fully in his monologues and spiels, it’s just like giving a kid a candy bar.

And if you were to get angry for him?? To enrage yourself over anything he may say, to become furious at the same situation or person he hates so much— it’s almost enough to fully break his cover.

It’s one thing for him to be elated over the prospect of another person feeling his rage, but it’s another entirely if he starts to feel yours. Stupid highschool bully stories, that one girl in band class that broke your flute— it doesn’t matter— he’ll start eating it up as if he hasn’t had a meal in years.

—

Chamomile tea; What is their sleep schedule like? Does it change around their s/o?

To put it bluntly, Tomura doesn’t have a sleep schedule— he sleeps when his body gives out.

Even before his memories had re-emerged, blotchy nightmares plagued him. Every morning he’d wake up sick to his stomach, the itch under his skin growing by the millisecond. So— he learned to adapt.

2-3 hour power naps kept the nightmares at bay and gave him enough stamina for whatever was to come. His lack of sleep was a large driving force in his erratic behavior early on, grumpy and irritable.

With you though, he finds the nightmares to be less oppressive. He still doesn’t sleep enough, but he finds that taking a couple days out of the week to rest fully isn’t so bad.

If he has a nightmare, the cycle will break back to its bare bones and it’ll take awhile to resurface. As long as you’re patient and as long as he’s willing, he’ll be back to sleeping properly.

Though as a whole, it could take years before he’s ready to sleep regularly again.

—

Earl grey tea; How did they court their s/o?

He didn’t. He isn’t a romantic— he honestly hated you when he started to feel more than just average companionship towards you.

Not a single bushel of roses were bought, no dates were had— hell— you didn’t even know you were together until about a month in when he got pissed at you for getting injured!

“If you ever do that again we’re breaking up.”

Any confusion would only piss him off more— giving you the silent treatment for a few days before he’d finally cave in with some very dead and very wilted wild flowers in hand.

“What is this??”

“Shut the fuck up and take them.”

He honestly just decides that you’re the one he wants— it doesn’t really matter to him how you feel about it.

—

Milk tea; What are their kisses like?

At first, Tomura’s kisses are gentle, childlike and timid— like he isn’t sure what exactly he’s supposed to be doing.

Then— they become untamed— sloppy and harsh. He bites and slobbers, prods and maims, anything to get as close to you as possible.

He won’t kiss you unless you’re completely alone, far away from any prying eyes and peaked interests. He’s not going to show that part of himself to anyone but you.

Teeth and tongue, cracked lips that— if chapped enough— can cut into your own. Kissing is a frenzy, very rarely will you ever get a soft peck or a loving press of his lips onto yours.

—

Coffee; Do they get jealous easily? How do they show it?

Absolutely. Tomura— even as a rising symbol of fear— is extremely self conscious.

He’d never let you leave— as stated above— he didn’t even really give you a choice when it came to being together in the first place.

But even so, the insecurity of you looking away from him, finding someone better or more handsome— it makes his blood run cold.

If there’s someone who touches you and lingers a little too long, if there’s someone you smile at a little too brightly, he’s not above taking their life. Of course it always starts with a threat, either to them or to you.

He wants you to tell him you’ll never leave, he wants you to crumble and cry and tell him everything is exactly as it should be. He is not a kind man, and in times like these it becomes ever apparent that he never will be.

Tomura protects what’s his, and even with free will, you belong to him whether you like it or not.

—

Rosehip tea; How romantic are they? How do they show affection?

Tomura isn’t romantic. At least not in the traditional sense. You can tell he cares by the look in his eyes or his apprehensive nature towards your roll in whatever the league may be doing next.

He keeps you away from danger, even though he, himself, is the biggest danger to you.

If you were to ask for something— anything— he would get it for you. He’s very straight forward, and he wants the people he cares about to able to do, and have whatever they want.

His love language is physical touch, and even though he keeps all the affection he has for you behind closed doors— as soon as those doors are closed, he’s all over you.

Running his hands up and down your stomach, gripping at the squish on your thighs, shoving his head into the crook of your neck, palming your breasts just to remember the feel of them.

He treats you like a fragile porcelain doll.

—

Black tea; What do they look for in a person?

Honestly he wasn’t looking. The concept of romance was completely uninteresting to him— he didn’t want anyone and he didn’t need anyone— he was completely fine on his own.

Though, he wouldn’t date a fellow villain— at least not one notable enough to be a threat. Tomura doesn’t do well with competition, he loathes the thought of racing to the top, he just wants to be there.

Finding a person who he can corrupt, who he can make his own— is something he’d enjoy greatly. That’s not to say he couldn’t fall for a league member, but it wouldn’t be someone worth his time— at least not in the beginning.

He wants a person he can talk to, touch, and unload upon. Someone who will remain consistent and stick by his side no matter what the cost may be.

Although romance isn’t his forte, and finding someone to love wasn’t something he had ever envisioned, he wants someone he can be with for life.

—

Pomegranate tea; At what point did they know they loved their s/o?

Truth be told Tomura was wrapped around your finger from the moment he decided he wanted you— though it didn’t fully kick in until a few months into your relationship.

You were in a fight— it was over something stupid that any other couple could’ve resolved within the day— looking back neither of you could even remember what it was about.

He was pissed, stomping around, seething and destroying anything he could get his hands on. He wanted to yell at you, to scream in your face and make sure you know this was your fault. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Gradually, as the days passed and he became less and less bothered by whatever the two of you had disagreed on— he realized he wasn’t itchy.

He still had those rising tingles under his skin and he still had to rub away his discomfort from day to day life— but this argument, the infuriating way you had made him feel— it did nothing to his sensitive skin.

Slowly it became apparent that he hadn’t needed to dig into his skin at all. He was angry, he was upset and borderline furious with you— but he was comfortable.

For the first time in his life he was able to feel negativity without the pull of fire ants under his skin. That’s when he realized for sure— that he was absolutely, without a doubt, in love with you.

—

Matcha tea; How and when do they propose to their s/o?

The villain life has no room for any sort of eloping or marriage— so he doesn’t ever really propose.

Sooner or later you just start to feel like a married couple.

You bicker and fight, you sleep together and sneak away to have alone time. The love he has for you starts seeping out more, he becomes a new version of himself just for you.

Then, once the Paranormal Liberation Front is active, Re-Destro asks about your partnership. It’s a simple question, curious and wide eyed.

“Who is this girl to you?”

It makes sense given the environment— you were not nominated as a lieutenant, though you stood by Tomura’s side like a shadow, waiting and watching— clearly in the ranks but with no flashy title to show for it.

And then, as if it were as simple as breathing, Tomura calls you his wife. Telling anyone who was around that he was the King, and by default you were the Queen.

—

Chai Tea; How do they spice up their relationship?

All in all, Tomura is a pretty boring guy. He drinks straight black coffee, plays video games and broods in silence 90% of the time.

Though, when it comes to you, he does try to make an effort. He’ll try out the games you like or your hobbies, and he’ll introduce you to his own in return.

He’ll teach you how to play chess, and that will inevitably turn into tradition. Once a week (if time will allow) you’ll sit down together, play a few games and just talk.

In the underworld, romance never will be easy to manage, and even though you make his days a little brighter, you’ll never be his top priority. World destruction won’t happen on its own, and nothing in his life will override his goals.

But these special little moments between the two of you are by far the best part of anything he’s ever going to accomplish.

—

Hibiscus tea; What’s their favorite place to take their s/o?

The bedroom. As stated, Tomura isn’t a very outgoing person— he won’t take you out on dates or walks in the park.

But he will sit with you in a dark room, watch movies and eat junk. (Bonus points if there’s a blow job thrown in)

His favorite place to be with you, is when you’re alone and secluded. He wants to touch you freely, to run his lips down your throat and hold you close to his chest.

He wants to grab you, to hold and be held. To feel the warmth of your body completely engulfing his own.

Truly, his favorite place to be, is wherever you’ll allow.

—

Green tea; How do they comfort their s/o?

He really doesn’t. Tomura has absolutely no idea how to deal with you when you’re upset.

If you’re angry he’ll get angry with you! He’ll wind you up and let you take it all out on whatever you so please. (as long as it isn’t him)

Expect absolutely nothing in regard to his comforting abilities. He might take you to the side and ask you what’s wrong, he may even give you an awkward hug! But that’s really all he’ll be able to do.

If you ask for space he’ll give it to you, if you ask for cuddles he’ll do his best! But overall, you’re the one who has to call the shots, and depending on what’s going on, he may just leave you to deal with it yourself. Because as stated above— regardless of how wonderful you are— you are not his top priority.

—

Russian caravan tea; How experienced are they with relationships?

NOT AT ALL. You are his first (and final) attempt at love. You’re going to get all of his fuck ups, all of his learning curves and all of his shitty disposition.

He has no idea what he’s doing, and even years down the line he still won’t fully understand. Caring for another person isn’t the most insane thing in the world— he cares for the league and it works out fine!

But loving someone?? It’s just too overwhelming at times. Taking your needs into consideration without being asked, figuring out what you enjoy and how he can add that into his already insane schedule— it’s maddening.

You’re his first everything, and you’re just going to have to be okay with that— because you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not!

—

English breakfast tea; Would they want a family?

Tomura wasn’t even looking for love when he found it— let alone a family.

I really doubt he ever thinks about it at all, he’s never been someone who cared much about what the future would bring.

That isn’t to say if you wanted a family he wouldn’t cave. He wants the people he cares about to have and do whatever they want— if for you that means starting a family with him— he’s not opposed to it.

It wouldn’t be cut and dry though, and if you never pipe up with the interest he isn’t going to either.

If you do bring it up, he’d ask a lot of follow up questions. Such as,

“Why?”

Or

“What’s the point?”

He really wouldn’t know what to do if that situation occurred, but he wouldn’t say no— he may just need to think on it for a while.

If you were to become pregnant, be it a broken condom or failed birth control— he wouldn’t ask you to terminate. You belong to him— yes— but part of being in his grasp is being able to live your life any way you want. Aside from hero work or leaving him there aren’t many restrictions.

If push comes to shove he’d enjoy having a little family of his own! Seeing himself mixed with you in a smaller, separate, body— creating something after destroying so much. It would be one of the steepest learning curves he’s ever experienced, and he wouldn’t be the most present father in the early days of vomit and diapers— but he’d be there all the same.

—

Rooibos tea; What’s their favorite thing to do with their s/o?

Cuddling. He loves to touch and be touched. He doesn’t care if you play games with him, he doesn’t care if you kill and destroy— all he cares about is the fact that you’re there with him.

He loves when you run your fingers through his tangled hair, slowly separating any knots you find. He loves the feel of his hands rubbing against your soft skin. He craves your presence and he craved the feel of you.

It’s not always sexual— but those times when he can claim you, to mark you inside and out, he truly feels like he’s the most powerful man in the world.

He’s terrified of feeling vulnerable, so he pushes you away any chance he gets, refusing to do anything with you if there’s even a chance of someone else seeing. (And sometimes that person is you)

[literary-motif]

All The Loose Ends

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Isaac is overworked and exhausted. You make it better.

The smoke curling up from the end of his cigarette looked eerily white in the moonlight. It seemed almost like a ghost, Isaac mused, tilting his head and letting his gaze wander over the slightly more unkempt part of the garden where the people he loved most lay buried. He tasted ash in his mouth, only in part caused by indulging in the habit he had meant to swear off long ago.

In truth, Isaac was so overwhelmingly exhausted that he could not muster the energy to get himself to care about it — about his health (not that he had ever particularly been concerned for it), about the smoke only partly making its way out of the opened kitchen window, about the headache torturing him for the better part of the week, about the feeling of suffocation rising in his chest when he thought about his work or as much as took a glance at his desk; even the person sleeping soundly a storey above him was nothing more than an afterthought now, another ghost to him. They would leave soon enough.

The thought made his heart seize painfully. Pickle — recalling the nickname brought a small smile to his tired face — was an inexhaustible source of life. They were a fresh breath of air, a reminder to cherish the time he had left instead of just going through the motions each day. They made him strive for more. They made him want to change. They made him want to live and break out of the void existence he had carved out for himself, and into which he had dragged them selfishly.

Isaac took another drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes to faintly make out his mother’s favorite flowers growing peacefully beside her grave; but alas, abandoning his grandfather’s legacy was impossible. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

The question made him choke on his exhale. Coughing, he turned to glance at you with furrowed brows.

“You should try, honestly,” you say, stepping up beside him and taking the low-burning cigarette from his fingers. “You remind me of a raccoon,” you add, contemplating only a moment before putting the cigarette out in the soil of one of the succulents placed carefully on the countertop under the window. The moonlight allowed you to see the ash discarded in the sink as you glance down and you throw a displeased look at Isaac.

The night was not dark enough to hide his blush. “A raccoon? How so?” he asked, clearing his throat, the strong and decisive voice you had grown used to uncharacteristically morphed into a tired rasp. “Is it my nocturnal activity?”

You chuckled, looking up at the moon. “I was thinking more about the bags under your eyes.” They had gotten more and more prominent in the preceding weeks and you were starting to worry. 

It was an open secret that Isaac did not settle down easily. You could hear him pacing in the middle of the night sometimes or saw the light streaming into the entrance hall from under the closed door of his study at some ungodly hour when your own troubled thoughts would not let you sleep. “What’s keeping you awake tonight?” you asked in a light tone as you closed the window, hoping it masked your worry.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as could have been expected. Isaac did not open up easily and it was a shot in the dark hoping he would answer your question truthfully, if at all. You grimaced, fearing you had overstepped. To break the tension rising steadily with the moments of quiet, you were about to change the subject and point out what you assumed was the constellation Orion in the night sky. The deep, heavy sigh escaping Isaac made you pause. 

You turned your head to look at him. It was almost unheard of that Isaac let his carefully constructed mask of stoic nonchalance slip, even for a moment. He was usually so desperate to keep control of both the world around him and himself, it was painful to watch him hold onto it sometimes and brush away sentimentality as if it was a weakness he could not dare to afford. 

The sigh was an admission of defeat. It was the tangible proof, along with the ash in the sink and the way his head was bowed, that Isaac had reached the end of his seemingly inexhaustible rope. 

“Just life,” he said quietly in response, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. The headache had not subsided, and his usual self-destructive remedy of downing a few sleeping pills with a glass of whiskey seemed out of the question now that you were here. 

Isaac’s exhaustion made his head swim. It was hard to say when he had last taken a break when the past weeks blended into one long string of cases and files and meetings and work, work, work. There had never been much of a life for him outside of it, and while working gave his pitiful existence purpose, sometimes it wrung him dry.

The light touch of your hand on his arm made him startle. His eyes flew open and he turned, wincing at the sharp stab of pain it gave his head. Your eyes were fixed on him as if trying to solve a puzzle and Isaac quickly thought up a snide comment about your evident predisposition for a private eye, but it died on his tongue when he noticed the glass of water you were holding out for him to take. 

You smiled faintly at him when he took a few tentative sips of the cool water. “I have fought my fair share of battles with headaches. If there is anything I can do, let me know,” you spoke softly, “Regardless, might I propose getting some rest? Sleep is the most effective natural remedy for them, I have found.”

“I am fine,” Isaac answered weakly. It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. You hummed, clearly not believing his lie. Perhaps you truly would make a good private investigator. 

“Let me—” you began hesitatingly, “Ah, that is to say, I would like to try something, if I may?” 

“What is it, Pickle?” Isaac asked, sighing again. There was no reason to hold onto pretense now and he was entirely too exhausted to care for it. His mask would be back in place by morning. 

You moved to stand behind him, placing your hands on his tense shoulders. Isaac stiffened immediately, his posture straightening into the usual way he carried himself, always on high alert. He did not move, either to brush your hands off of him or to step away from your touch. You took it as a small encouragement to continue.

“Relax,” you soothed, starting to massage small circles in the place between his shoulder blades with your thumbs. You heard Isaac inhale shakily, but he stayed still, letting you work. Gradually, he started to ease into the touch. 

“You’re—” Isaac rasped dreamily, clearing his throat a moment later for propriety’s sake, “You’re quite good at this.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, his eyes falling shut of their own accord to drift in the feeling of being touched — kindly and without an underlying agenda to exploit him.

Smiling quietly to yourself at how a few simple touches made Isaac pliable in your hands, you merely hummed in answer. “The tension you carry right here” — you said, moving your fingers to work on the muscles of his lower neck, earning a soft sigh from Isaac — “is responsible for your headache, as far as I can tell. If I had to guess, it comes from sitting at your desk, hunched over casefiles for the better part of the month. Perhaps you could stop overworking and spare yourself this pain? True, now I can—” ease it. Help you. Make sure you’re alright. Take care of you. 

You cut yourself off before revealing too much, your hands still working on Isaac’s shoulders and neck. They were becoming less and less tense under your gentle ministrations. 

When Isaac opened his eyes again, to his horror, his vision was blurry with tears. He wiped at them discreetly. “Thank you,” he said, hoping you chose to ignore how strained his voice sounded. “I have never, I think— Well, it’s been a while since someone,” he hesitated, unsure of how to continue, “did this for me.”

“Anytime, really,” you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders and allowing him to turn and face you. “Although I meant what I said: I would appreciate it if you toned down on burning the candle at both ends, Isaac.” 

Slowly, giving you sufficient time to draw back, he leaned into you, placing his arms around you in a tight embrace. You exhaled, surprised, but wrung your arms around him in return, treading your fingers through the hair at the base of his head. Isaac shivered, holding you tighter. “Thank you,” he said again, voice rough from the lump in his throat, “and I will, I promise.”

[tinytinyblogs]

Feeling a spark? Me too.

The feelings were mutual! They found out you like them too.

(Ot8 reaction, non-idol)

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray kids masterlist here

Han

Your laptop screen glowed against the darkening office backdrop, beckoning you with the siren song of unfinished work. But the gentle strum of Han's voice kept pulling your attention away, its melodic cadence a stark contrast to the urgent tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. "So, homebody or social butterfly?" he prodded, his smile twinkling beneath the office lights. You glanced up, catching his hopeful gaze for a fleeting moment before returning to the blinking cursor on your screen. "Both," you mumbled, hoping a curt answer would send him back to his own tasks. Han hummed, seemingly unfazed by your one-word response. "Ah, a versatile one, I see." His voice was a feather tickling your focus, making it impossible to concentrate on the tangled web of spreadsheets before you. Frustration tinged your fingertips as you pressed them harder against the keyboard, the clattering an attempt to drown out his persistent questions. "Fancy restaurant or cozy cafe?" he chimed in, completely undeterred. This time, you paused, unable to ignore him entirely. A sigh escaped your lips as you met his eyes, a playful challenge dancing within them. "Can you be more specific? What's this all about?" He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just answer the question, sunshine. No further details required." You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Fine. Cozy cafe, then. But seriously, Han, what are you up to?"

He leaned closer, pushing the laptop screen down slightly until you could only see his face filling the space before you. His grin spread into a full-blown Cheshire cat smile. "Very romantic or laugh-until-your-sides-hurt kind of date?" he whispered, his finger playfully shushing you. His question hung in the air, punctuated by the silent thud of your heart against your ribs. A date? Han, the office prankster, the source of endless puns and witty quips, was asking you on a date? You stared at him, a million thoughts swirling in your head. Both? you wanted to answer, a mirroring of his earlier response. Both romantic and hilarious, because that's what Han was: a bundle of contradictions, a walking enigma you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off. But instead, you simply replied, your voice barely a whisper, "Both." A warm hum rose from Han's throat, a counterpoint to the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the keyboard. He nodded, a thoughtful crease marring his forehead for a moment before dissolving into a satisfied smile. "Right, I could actually manage both," he muttered, almost to himself, yet loud enough for you to catch. Han looked up, his gaze bouncing between you and the glow of your laptop screen. "So, when are you done? When will you be ready?" You blinked, glancing back and forth, your mind scrambling to catch up. "Ready for what?" He chuckled, a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"For our date, of course! I’m finished with your personal preference survey. Turns out, your friend didn't know much about you or what you really liked, seeing as you haven't been on a date before. Well, neither have I, honestly. So, I figured I'd ask, make sure we get it right." His smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And hey, guess what? Your friend spilled the beans. She said you like me. Mutual feelings, right? So let's do this," he declared, his voice filled with an infectious enthusiasm. "Let's become the best couple this world has ever seen!" He puffed out his chest playfully, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You stared at him, incredulous. Your friend, the blabbermouth, had actually blurted out your secret crush? And here was Han, proposing a date as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Han shifted in his chair, the creak echoing the nervous drumbeat in his chest. He sat up straight, a slight tremor in his hands as he leaned closer. Looking straight into your eyes, he saw galaxies reflected back, swirling with a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was interest. "But um," he began, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He cleared his throat, the sound rasping against the charged silence. "If it's okay, if I could... maybe hold your hand?" His breath hitched, caught in the web of nerves. "Or give you a hug? You know," he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "a kiss maybe?"

Felix

The notification flashed on your phone, a simple question that sent your heart into a tap-dancing frenzy. 'Can I come to your place?' it read, from Felix, your sunshine-haired friend with a secret that mirrored your own. Now, here he was, standing awkwardly in your doorway, clutching a plate piled high with your absolute favorite cookies - his own handiwork, the aroma a sugary confession swirling in the air. The apartment had suddenly shrunk, the silence pressing in like a thick fog. You offered a mumbled thanks, accepting the cookies with shaking hands. You settled on the couch, the TV droning on like an unwanted guest. Your eyes wandered to the screen, but your mind was in a galaxy far, far away, populated only by butterflies and Felix's nervous smile. He, too, seemed adrift in a sea of unspoken words. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence with a hesitant, "Hey." His eyes flickered to the TV, then back to you, sparkling like stars under the city lights. "I heard something today," he mumbled, the sentence heavy with unsaid emotion. "And it made me so happy." He paused, the silence stretching like taffy between you. "What is it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the artificial laughter on the screen. He chewed on his lip, a battle raging behind his sunshine eyes. "Actually," he started, then stopped, restarting with a sigh, "I've been wrestling with myself, trying to figure out what to do. This feels so awkward, but…" He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Is it true, what they say? Do you… like me?"

The silence sat heavy between you, a thick fog obscuring the usual ease of your friendship. The words you couldn't speak, the feelings you kept under lock and key, threatened to shatter the perfect picture you'd painted of this relationship. You saw the flicker of doubt in Felix's eyes, the echo of your own fear reflected in his gaze. Then, like a whisper carried on the wind, his voice broke through the stillness. "I feel the same," he admitted, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you." The confession hung in the air, a tangible force that sent your heart into a desperate tap dance against your ribs. The forgotten TV, its flickering images mere background noise, became irrelevant. All that mattered was the pounding rhythm of your shared anticipation, the echo of a wish whispered into the universe. "I almost thought it was just a joke," he continued, a shy smile blooming on his lips, "a wishful dream that couldn't possibly be real." He reached for the TV remote, the click silencing the distracting chatter. No more hiding behind the screen, no more excuses to avoid the truth that shimmered between you. His eyes, pools of nervous hope, held your gaze captive. "Is it alright," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I take you on a date? A real one, where we can actually talk, where this isn't just a stolen moment between friends?"

He turned on his axis, facing you fully, a hesitant smile dancing on his lips. His eyes scanned your face, searching for a trace of doubt, a flicker of fear. Then, ever so gently, he reached out, his hand finding yours like a missing puzzle piece. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a warmth, both physical and emotional, surged through you. The burden of unspoken feelings, the weight of a secret kept hidden in the shadows, lifted with a sigh. In its place, a delicate flower bloomed within you, its petals unfolding with trepidation and joy. "It's okay, right?" he murmured, his voice soft as a melody. "If we… if we took this to another level, if we let this spark, this undeniable chemistry, ignite into something more?" His words sent shivers down your spine, and a whisper, as fragile as a butterfly's wing, escaped your lips, "It would be nice." The sentence trailed off, almost lost in the air, as if your voice wasn't yet daring to believe the truth it echoed. But you repeated it, a little firmer this time, your eyes locked on his, "It would be… nice to be more than just friends." The words, simple yet laden with unspoken promises, painted a smile across his face. It bloomed like a sunrise, chasing away the last vestiges of doubt and filling the room with the warm glow of possibilities. "Then you are mine now," he whispered, his thumb brushing a gentle caress against your skin. The possessiveness in his voice wasn't demanding, but rather a tender declaration, a promise to cherish this blossoming relationship.

Seungmin

The moment your eyes caught Seungmin across the room, your feet seemed to pirouette before your conscious mind could catch up. You whipped around, faster than a startled rabbit, unsure why you suddenly craved distance from your longtime crush. The untold feelings, simmering like a secret potion within you, rebelled against this abrupt retreat. "Avoiding me, I see," a familiar voice startled you from your musings. Seungmin, in a t-shirt clinging to his form like a second skin, stood behind you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I'm not!" you sputtered, turning back, desperate to mask your flustered heart with nonchalance. "Then why the Olympic-worthy pirouette every time our eyes meet, even when you're mid-conversation?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You practically warp speed away, leaving a trail of confused dust bunnies in your wake." A blush threatened to engulf your face as you stammered, "I'm not avoiding you, Seungmin." He only hummed in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Avoiding a crush, perhaps?" The smirk reached his eyes now, crinkling the corners with genuine good humor. Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like saucers. "What are you talking about?" you parried, hoping your feigned confusion would hold some water. Seungmin chuckled, a warm, melodious sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, leaning closer.

"Someone with a loose tongue spilled your little secret, the one you were so sure was under lock and key." The silence after Seungmin's revelation stretched until it threatened to snap, heavy with a thousand unspoken truths. He let his hand rest casually in his pocket, watching the way his words had sent your mind pirouetting like a ballerina on caffeine. You felt adrift, unmoored from the familiar shores of denial. "Then what do you want now?" your voice caught on a tremor, the question tumbling out more as a defense than a genuine inquiry. Was this some cruel joke, a play on your long-held affection? "Make fun of me?" The thought ignited a flicker of anger, a desperate attempt to regain control. Your head spun like a kaleidoscope, thoughts colliding in a dizzying chaos. You were a deer caught in the headlights of his unexpected confession, paralyzed by the sheer audacity of it all. "Not so sure, maybe take you on a date," he said, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the storm brewing within you. Your mouth gaped in disbelief. Did you mishear? Had the universe suddenly flipped upside down? "Right, you… what? You what?" Your voice, usually so measured, jumped an octave higher, betraying your shock. He met your stunned gaze with a serene smile, repeating the words you barely registered the first time around. "A date." The simplicity of the phrase held the weight of an avalanche, threatening to bury the meticulously constructed walls you'd built around your heart.

"Don't do that just because you pity me, Seungmin," you snapped, the hurt stinging in your throat. The thought of his affection being fueled by mere sympathy was unbearable. The vulnerability you'd so fiercely protected felt exposed, raw and aching. The air crackled with his soft rebuttal, "Pity?" Seungmin's voice dipped lower, like a caress against the turmoil raging within you. "Is it just me who's so unreadable, or have you become blind to the feelings swirling around you?" His eyes searched yours, a kaleidoscope of sincerity and a hint of playful challenge. With a slow, deliberate movement, he took a step closer, closer still. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the details of his face etched with an earnestness that sent your heart into overdrive. His angelic features, normally a source of amusement, now held a potent mix of cuteness and raw heat that left you breathless. The words spilled from his lips, each one a brushstroke painting a vibrant picture of his hidden affections. "I wouldn't be doing any of this," he confessed, his voice a low rumble resonating in your chest, "if I didn't have a monumental crush on you. My constant orbit around you, the unsolicited help, the sweetness reserved only for your ears - that's not who I am with anyone else, not by a long shot."

Jeongin

The insistent rhythm of knocking shattered the stillness of your 3 am slumber. Groaning, you stumbled towards the door, your vision blurry with sleep. There, bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the peephole, stood Jeongin. "Jeongin? What are you doing here at..." you squinted at your phone, "3 am?" He offered no immediate answer, his silence a heavy weight in the hallway. Then, in a swift move, he stepped past you, pushing the door closed and dragging you with him into the living room. The air crackled with a raw, uncharacteristic intensity. He flopped onto the sofa, his jacket landing in a crumpled heap beside him. You followed suit, still blinking sleep from your eyes and trying to decipher the storm brewing on his face. "I feel so disappointed," he finally uttered, the words sharp and heavy in the quiet room. His gaze, usually alight with playful mischief, was now clouded with a mix of hurt and frustration. "About what?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep and confusion. "About you," he spat, each word punctuated by a sigh. "About me. About us." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "Why did I have to hear it from someone else? That stupid gossip train, spreading rumors like wildfire..." He paused, his jaw clenched tightly. "To hear that we actually… love each other." His voice softened, laced with a vulnerability you’d rarely witnessed. "I always thought we had no secrets. We shared everything, right? So why this? Why did you keep this hidden, Y/N? What the hell are we doing?" The secret, once a delicate bud kept close to your heart, had finally bloomed into the open.

While you knew its petals would unfold eventually, you hadn't expected them to burst forth at 3 am, with Jeongin standing on your doorstep, his eyes a whirlwind of emotions. He stood before you, the moonlight tracing his silhouette against the doorway. "I like you, okay?" he blurted, his voice raw with a vulnerability you'd rarely seen. "So much more than you might even know." His confession, unexpected yet familiar, echoed back to you through the hushed hallway. You weren't surprised by the sentiment itself, but the sheer force of his delivery, the late-night timing, it all painted a picture of a storm brewing under his usual playful exterior. He continued, his voice taking on a self-deprecating tone, "I just wanted to have fun at the party, you know? But then your friend mentioned this crush you had, and wouldn't you know it, the 'lucky guy' turned out to be me. Can you believe it?" A wry smile flitted across your lips, the absurdity of the situation momentarily dispelling the tension. The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, each tick a tiny hammer tapping against the silence that hung heavy between you. "I really want to be your boyfriend," he pressed on, his voice dropping an octave. "Not just stuck in this 'best friend' zone anymore." He met your gaze, his eyes searching for some sign of reciprocation, some hidden echo of his own feelings. You remained silent, your heart an orchestra of indecision. The weight of his unspoken question, the years of shared laughter and secrets, it all settled on your shoulders like a tangible cloak. "But I didn't know," he admitted, a tremor in his voice.

"Didn't know if you could ever feel the same about a clutz like me. So I kept quiet, never dared to say it. Made you wait, maybe, for too long? Am I a jerk for that?" His question, laced with self-doubt and a hint of desperation, ripped through the veil of your silence. You weren't angry, not at him. This late-night confession, born from a mix of courage and uncertainty, deserved more than silence. It deserved honesty, a bridge built from whispered truths and shared vulnerabilities. His invitation hung in the air, a playful challenge disguised as a simple question. "Let's go on a date," he said, his voice laced with a teasing lilt. You hummed, your reply more of a gentle brushstroke against the canvas of the moment than a definitive answer. Glancing at the clock ticking away on the wall, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Right," you agreed, tracing the numbers with your finger, "a date sounds lovely. But maybe," you added, your voice dipping lower, "not at this ungodly hour." He closed the space between you, his warmth enveloping you like a familiar embrace. You inhaled the comforting scent of his cologne, a scent that now spoke of shared laughter and lingering kisses. "True," he conceded, burying his face in your hair. "Rest does sound tempting. But," his voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper, "how about a rain check for tomorrow? A real date, with sunlight and stolen glances across a café table?" He tightened his hug, the gesture an unspoken plea and a promise all at once. "And," he added, his breath tickling your ear, "I'm far too lazy to crawl home tonight. This couch, with you nestled beside me, is far too perfect to abandon."

©Tinytinyblogs

[xappetites]

sleep together in the stars

Rodolfo Parra x Reader | just fluffy riding this man on the couch and a bunch of praise because it's sundress season | word count: 1,696

“What?” 

It’s a sweet question, asked in the sweetest tone, with Rodolfo’s darling eyes on you.

It half takes you by surprise, mostly because you’ve been standing there in the middle of the kitchen, stuck in your head. Staring at him as he dries his hands and finally sinks into the loveseat. The last plate snug in its cupboard and table cleared. 

And you don’t really know how to answer, being honest. Not sure how to put into words the feeling that’s been eating at you for most of the dinner, turned sobremesa, turned merienda. From the moment Alejandro turned to your boyfriend, big smile and shining eyes, clapping his shoulder so hard, Rodolfo almost spilled his coffee.

“So, you got yourself a spitfire.”

It’s a compliment, you can tell even if this is your first time meeting Colonel Alejandro Vargas, shining star of the Mexican Special Forces and the most important person in your boyfriend’s life, after his mom. It should feel like an honor, how readily and completely you’re ‘approved’ of, but something in your stomach fucking flips in the most unpleasant way.

It's the story of your life. A long line of: spitfire, bossy, strong willed, bitch. Sure, you’re friendly; people like to be around you, just not for a romantic relationship. Not when you’re as vocal about what you like and don’t like as you are. No man wants to feel like they’re in the middle of a test and bombing it , you’d been told once. You can’t even take a joke.

But it was easy to dismiss, coming from men who had let you down in one way or another; who made it clear that they weren’t looking for a partner, not really. You could have a good cry about it, work through the frustration and move on.

With Rudy, it’s a terrifying thing. You like Rudy, like him for real; feel your chest swell almost painfully when he so much as looks at you, especially like this, when he makes it seem like you’re the only person in the world for him.

You don’t want him to tell you you’re impossible, don’t want him to even ever think it. Honestly, if you could, you'd love nothing more than to curl up in his arms and do whatever he wants, because you trust him with the outcome. You could leave your heart in his hands and bet money on him being careful with it. You just don’t want it to end up being a burden.

So you keep this ache to yourself; choosing instead to kick your shoes off and find your way to him, to stand between his legs, bracketed in and fucking safe.

Even this feels too much, though, the rushed way you bend in half to kiss him. And you try to soften your desperation, sweeten the way you gasp into his mouth, that turns to humming when his hand grabs a firm hold of your thigh. His solid, calloused fingers indenting the flesh over the summer dress you usually wear to impress him.

“Amor—”

“Please,” you interrupt, clinging to his neck like you’re begging, because you are. And he must see it clear on your face, since he drops it in favor of tugging you down to straddle his lap.

“Come here.”

He guides you, waits patiently as you settle. Steadies you with nothing more than a light touch over your waist and his eyes tracking the path of your skirt. Riding high, inch by inch, just enough to show him how your skin slowly meets the rough fabric of his jeans. And the roll of his hips that follows might start as an instinctive reaction, but he makes it this slow, dragging thing against you.

You’ve come to know this as something Rodolfo does from time to time, a teasing so loving and full of promise that it makes your teeth ache. He’s not riling you up just to pull away, he’s simply taking his time. A constant buildup of careful kisses, like he’s trying to coax the thought you won’t share with him out of your mouth.

He shifts again, close as he can get; forcing your stance wider, lower, until you feel his half hard cock bumping insistently against your clit. And his hand lands, encouraging, over the curve of your ass. So, you start rocking your hips, short of breath at the way he lets you taste his moan straight from the source.

“Así, amor. Steady.”

He means don’t rush, you know this too, let me feel you. It’s in his eyes, pleading, until you give him the rhythm he’s looking for. You’re rewarded with open, unashamed praise falling honeyed on your tongue.

It has you panting, straight up sobbing, mumbling his name into the silence of the living room with every word he speaks into you. To the point that the forced, controlled pace makes your thighs shake and then Rodolfo’s hands are guiding you to your feet again.

“No, Rodolfo—“

Your voice sounds almost panicked even as he moves with you, hooking both thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and nuzzling the space between your breasts as he peels the lace off you.

“I’m here,” he says, almost mouthing it against your body. Sighing a warm breath that raises goosebumps wherever it reaches.

You can feel him smiling at how easy it is to fit a finger inside you, to add another one in the second stroke.

“God, you’re so wet for me.”

“Yeah, for you. Just you, Rudy,” it’s a babble, your answer. Caught in your throat with the effort of twisting your body to kiss him, because you know it’s the only way to distract him enough to work his cock out of his pants.

He moans, loud. And your mind goes lopsided with need until you’re sinking down around him, like a fucking puzzle piece, like it was always meant to be.

You tighten inside, a spasm of muscles, and he’s sure you don’t know what you do to him; how hard it gets him to see the tension fall off the line of your shoulders at just the weight of him inside you. How your sigh has him clawing his way back from the edge. It’s a contented sound, a ‘finally back home’ sigh, and it has his heart on his throat, his pulse beating in double time at the base of his cock.

It’s why he suggested this dinner, most Vaqueros have a similar system with one another, someone who understands the implicit request in a meeting like this. The ‘in case something happens to me…’

A measure Rudy never thought he’d resort to, until you were the first thing on his mind while he crouched behind a half dilapidated car, shots ringing all around him, and he realized there’s no coming back from you. He could spend every night watching you melt against him, feeling your pretty little cunt holding him tight, and still beg for more. He’ll live his life hiding from his mom that your birria is ten times better than hers, he’ll take the crabby, pre-coffee, good morning grunt and he’ll kiss it off your lips to make you smile to start every day.

He doesn’t know if you know, but he wants you to, so he tells you. Mouths an ‘I love you’ into your collarbone in time with the rolling of your hips. Rough and sweet and useless to resist, like the tide coming into shore.

Pleasure rises from his gut, tensing his spine and driving his hands up, up, until he’s cupping your cheeks, keeping you in place so he can watch your eyebrows pinch with effort.

“I love you so fucking much,” the confession comes out out of you stumbling, mostly involuntary, pulled out of you by the fingertips that skim over the back of your neck. And you don’t notice the tears ‘till Rodolfo swipes them away with his thumbs.

“Why are you crying then, amor?”

It’s overwhelming, both the affection he graces you with and the way he thrusts up, gentle but insistent. He feels so deep, such an intrinsic part of you, that you will never be the same after this. Nothing past the panic in your gut and the humming in your clit, shoving you towards an orgasm that feels like it might undo you.

“I don’t wanna lose you, I don’t want you to get sick of me,” in the aftermath, hours later, you’ll be surprised that he made sense of the whimpers that have your shoulders heaving, but he does.

He rocks you in his arms, one hand sliding to grab your hair, not painfully, just pressure that grounds you. An unwavering hold so you can let go, coming so hard that you’d be screaming if you could.

“I’ll never get sick of you, I can’t get enough of you.”

You barely hear his words, attuned instead to the groan that warps them, putting emphasis in weird places as he fills you. But you believe him, with his heart pounding against yours. You surrender to the warmth of him all over you, taking over your world.

“You know he meant it in a good way, right?”

Rodolfo’s voice is soft, probably much softer than he needs to be once your breathing’s evened out and you’re simply slumped there against his chest.

“What?”

“When Alejandro called you a spitfire —you flinched.”

You do it again right then, a quick full-body-contraction that earns you a kiss on the crown of your head.

“It’s just, no one’s ever meant it ‘in a good way’ before.”

“He does. I do. I won’t ever say it again if you don’t like it, but I promise I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Ok,” nodding is uncomfortable in the position you’re in, hoping he understands how much you trust him.

Rodolfo promises a lot more, he thinks. Though, he knows it’s too much right now, so he keeps it quiet in his heart: he’ll show you he’s telling the truth, he’ll keep coming back to you from the worst of it. And he’ll never let you go.

[leggerefiore]

💼Larry NSFW HCs🏢

cw: 18+ content, AFAB reader,

Minors DNI

🍙 He's a guy who skews not too horny in general. He's busy so much that when he finally gets home, he's out cold in bed within the hour. With you, however, he does know you have needs, and he does, too. Larry admits he is fine with whatever appeases you. There aren't a lot of ways for him to get off easily, so letting you have a bit more reign than him helps him relax.

🍙 Larry prefers to bottom most of the time. He just isn't used to being someone in control, and he likes answering orders. You can tell him to do just about anything, and he'll do it in his own Larry sort of way. He's slowly eating you out or lazily fucking into you at your request. Each noise that comes from you rings in his ears pleasantly. It's a change from his busy schedule that he deeply enjoys.

🍙 Sometimes, though, all the stress and lack of time to himself gets to him. Larry is never truly aggressive, but you can tell when he needs to be somewhat in charge while fucking. Larry would grasp at your hips tightly while rutting into you with a rare vigour. In those moments, you could see a certain passion from him that was almost entirely missable. You eagerly gave him control, entranced by the pleasure he brought and this new side to him. The older man took everything you willingly gave him in those sessions.

🍙 Not too much on the kinky side, honestly. He's never been one for going too experimental, obviously, so if you have any, you'll have to introduce them to him. Larry admittedly doesn't act overly interested in them, but he's down to try anything you ask him to, with certain exceptions. You want to tie him up? Sure, why not. Just untie him when he asks. You want him to tie you up? His knot may not be the best, but he'll try. He'll meet you halfway.

🍙 On the topic of eating, his favourite thing to do is eat you out. Larry's tongue really shows its talents when he's able to sit between your legs and go to town. Soft groans come from the man's throat and send shivers down your spine. The look of his face covered in your juices as he licks his lips is something framed in your head (even if he still looked utterly exhausted). It kills you every time he pulls away after you cum and thanks you for the meal. He enjoys head, too, naturally. Larry is never one to turn down a blow job unless he doesn't have the in his schedule. You have definitely been hid under his desk while his poker face is worked to its extreme.

🍙 His own personal kinks probably involve food, honestly. Having lazy sex after a good meal sounds heavenly to him. Letting him eat off of you? He enjoys it deeply and shows a bit of shocking technique with his tongue. There is a certain pleasure found in light bites that both of you enjoy heavily. Office sex isn't something he minds, but he isn't a fan of the risk. If you can manage it, having him fuck you against his desk is worth it for the way he truly works out his pent-up emotions.

🍙 His dirty talk is lacking. He tries his best, but his manner of speaking is just that of a business email or oddly awkward with a sense of bluntness and that fails to spring any kind of horny out. Riding him in a hot moment on the couch and having him say to you, “You're good – Good in a sexual way, I mean,” is a bit of a slap in the face. You can tell he's trying his best, and it's not entirely a mood killer. Just going a bit more roughly to stutter his ability to talk was always an option, too.

🍙 Turning him on is either something accidentally done or near impossible. Something that will never leave your mind is when you ate a popsicle in front of him and the way his poker face broke as he averted his eyes and his blushed a slight pink. There was a noticeable shifting in his manner of sitting as he checked his watch. Then, there are times where you wait up for him in lingerie and have him take a look at you, nod, and then proceed to eat his leftovers before heading to bed. At least the popsicle situation led to him fucking you as soon as you were in the door.

🍙 Larry enjoys sex for what it is. It brings pleasure and helps bonding with your partner. That's why he always tries to find time for it. The feeling of you either on top or underneath him is something that he comes to miss in his long days at work. He may even dare visit you on his lunch break for a quickie to relieve some stress and feel close to another. There's something wonderful in the way his stuff expression shifts in those moments. His brows furrowed together while his eyes squeeze shut. His facade is utterly shattered as he loses himself in you. Larry feels oddly thankful for you reminded him of this part of himself.

🍙 As for aftercare, he probably asks if you enjoyed yourself, offers to run a bath, and then passes out. Cuddling isn't his strength, so it needs to be requested for him to actually do it. Larry does like the affection, but it simply slips his mind in favour of getting some much-needed sleep. In those moments as you lay beside each other wherever you are, he'll peck a quick kiss to your cheek, and thank you for sticking with him. He's aware he's not the easiest to get along with but your understanding means more to him than he cares to say. Larry's snores as he sleeps next you are a sign of how strong his trust is.

[reasonsforhope]

I'd love to ask you (and any of your followers who might feel inclined to share opinions) how you feel about the ethics/just plain sensibleness of having children in this uncertain world. I would deeply love to have and raise children, but my fear of the future and uncertainty about the world I would be bringing them into is paralyzing. I am extremely afraid of creating a human life, only for them to have to suffer in an unhappy/unsafe/undesirable world. Do you have hope for the world children born today (or in the next 5 years) will grow up and live in?

Open question for followers who would like to answer!

Personally, I do have hope for children born today. I think there will be a lot of upheaval, but we have been improving things so quickly on climate (in the past 5 years mostly) and genuinely massive improvements in life expectancy and quality of life in most of the developing world (mostly the past 23 years). I think that there's a real chance that the future, in 50 to 70 years, will look better than any of us still dare to dream.

That said... it's by no means guaranteed. And I think whether it's ethical to bring children into this world now is a very real question.

I posted a really long and incisive New York Times exposé about an hour ago, and this quote is much of its thesis:

"We are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse."

Ten years ago, fifteen years ago, preventing our own extinction looked near impossible. Now? "We have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years." (same exposé)

On the one hand, if we can do that, what will we be capable of once we really get going on climate change?

On the other hand, even if we're not totally doomed anymore, it's going to be an incredibly stressful world to be born into, with a lot of chaos and challenges we should never have had to face, and there's no way to know how much we will manage to do.

Honestly, though? Part of the reason I can be more optimistic about this is because I definitely don't plan to have kids anyway.

Which means that I don't HAVE to find the right answer to that question. I get off easy there, I honestly think. I'm really, really glad I that no one's life is resting on whether I guess right.

I know so many people who are struggling with this, I actually wonder if adoption will get more popular because of this very question.

More specifically, here's the advice I'd give: wait. Basically all of the biggest climate goals and climate commitments out there right now come due in 2030.

I genuinely think that in 2030, we will have a much, much better idea of what our future is going to look like - and whether it's a world we want to bring a child into.

And I hope so deeply that we will all be amazed.

So, followers and everyone else on this hellsite: What do you think?

[bobwess]

AMA (Down to Agincourt addition) I am once again bored, so here are some more (aka many) questions. As that anon from last year who asked for the elevator pitch, I am so glad I did and gave DtA another shot!!! When did you first start reading it?

When did you first realize how hooked you where with DtA? Was it from moment one? Was there a spesific scene?

Fav of the original side characters?

Fav the original main characters?

Coolest concept that DtA introduced into the SPN world?

If there could be a in-depth prequel written for any of the characters, who's past would you be the most interested in exploring?

If you had to, what would you ranking be of the books?

How many times have you read it all the way through?

What bit of foreshadowing (if any) did you miss the first time around that really jumped out at you on a reread?

Did reading DtA help inspire your own The End fic?

What of the many burning questions currently unanswered do you want answered first?

What's the most interesting non-SPN related fact that DtA taught you?

If normal SPN team free will read/watch/found out about the DtA what do you think their reactions would be?

What's a scene/interaction that still scratches the brain itch?

Have you read The Forever King spin-off series? If so, what are your thoughts?

Yes!! Muahahahaha. Changing the order a bit.

Coolest concept that DtA introduced into the SPN world?

The Winchester House, everything about it, and its entire relationship to Nate. 

The complex rules and magical constraints/potential of metaphysical contamination.

Honorable mention: Lucifer’s plans with the Gods.

But also actually: The Winchester House.

What bit of foreshadowing (if any) did you miss the first time around that really jumped out at you on a reread?

(spoilers) 

The set up for the church paradox. 

Cas, post fall, fever dream, almost dying locked in that cabin bedroom, the unnamed goddess calling him in spirit yet somehow physically into that Church.

Dean, post infection, fever dream, almost dying locked in that cabin bedroom, Cas accidentally calling him in spirit yet somehow physically into that Church. 

All of time and space converging. Dean is the impossible, he was never supposed to be in this universe, Cas accidentally binding them together with those sigils, allowing Cas to connect with Dean in the first place, and also making Dean invisible to Lucifer while he’s physically in that cabin, which he technically is, thus allowing him to shield Lia and thus her able to get him into that church where he and Cas manage to do something and erase the kids' (and both of their) minds. 

There is so much meat there, and every time you re-read there is more. There is so much cool foreshadowing with ALL the players involved, and I literally put together another thread in that during EVERY read-through. 

Someone once asked me my thoughts on what we know happened in the church and it got to 19 pages in google before I had to cut it off pending another re-read of book 4. 

Fav of the original side characters?

I can not separate Nate and the Winchester House, so--

Fav the original main characters?

Vera by a slim margin over Joe.

When did you first start reading it?

It’s hard to remember just because the last three years are a fuzzy mess, but I’m pretty sure I started reading it late 2021/early 2022. I am a fast reader so I demolished it VERY fast. 

When did you first realize how hooked you where with DtA? Was it from moment one? Was there a specific scene? 

After Cas and Dean started properly working together in book 1 I was pretty on board, but once they told Chuck and started their trips into Kansas City, that was when it really settled in and I knew I was about to read the entire thing.

If there could be a in-depth prequel written for any of the characters, who's past would you be the most interested in exploring?

Joe or Teresa. Honestly though I’d really like to see the case Dean worked down by the border. 

If you had to, what would you ranking be of the books?

This is a slim AF margin too, because they’re all so good. But I think it’d be 3,1,4,2 So “A Thousand Lights in Space” “Map of the World” “Game of God” “It’s the Stars That Lie” But it's real neck and neck for the last three.

How many times have you read it all the way through?

Books one and two I have read cover to cover 6 or 7 times, three I probably read a couple more. Book four I’ve actually only read completely cover to cover once, but I have read a lot of it out of order a couple more times. I’m trying to get my fics to a bit more of a stable point so I can re-read it again in case I go off the rails hyper-fixation on it again. I’ll probably read it twice in a row when I read it this next time.

Did reading DtA help inspire your own The End fic?

No, it hindered it greatly. The world building in DtA is very contrary to the plot I have for my endverse fic, and it took a while for my brain to reset and be like “Nope, this is what I’m doing, put that out of your mind.” If I hadn’t read DtA, you’d already have my Endverse fic, because I started writing it before reading that, and had to stop work for straight up like a year. 

What of the many burning questions currently unanswered do you want answered first?

WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED INSIDE THE DAMN CHURCH!?!?!?

What's the most interesting non-SPN related fact that DtA taught you?

Graphene and everything about it.

If normal SPN team free will read/watch/found out about the DtA what do you think their reactions would be?

I think none of them would have any idea what to do with it. Cas would therefore not have much outward expression, Sam would be incredibly awkward and only a little insulted he isn’t in it, and Dean would be 10/10 defensive AF. 

What's a scene/interaction that still scratches the brain itch?

The Winchester Hou- Cas accidentally calling Dean when he’s using Allison as a conduit for the kids in Ichabod, and subsequently their interactions after Cas figures out what happened. 

Close seconds are Cas and Dean’s interaction after Dean gets bit in the courtyard, Cas searching Kansas City with his mind after Dean touched The Ick™. 

And yes actually the retelling of Nate’s interactions with The Winchester House.

Have you read The Forever King spin-off series? If so, what are your thoughts?

I have not read it yet, I must at some point. I know I’ll like it.

-

Also I'm glad my pitch worked and you ended up giving it another go!!

[staratdawn]

I thought about au with blind Regulus and deaf Sirius. It is not congenital, most likely acquired after 5 years of Sirius and 4 years of Regulus at Hogwarts. Their mother's unsuccessful punishment spell hit both brothers. Total blindness forever for Regulus, too much damage to do anything about it, even magic is powerless. Sirius rolled down the stairs, hitting his head on all corners, causing serious damage to the head, including the auditory cortex. The predictions of the Black' personal doctor were positive, of course, no one was going to upset them. But the hearing does not return to Sirius in a year or two.

And this difficult for them, almost impossible to make contact, despair splashes, their psycho-emotional state is not just a light wind, it's a fucking storm, like, they never can be ok again. They need more than a one year to talk to each other again. It's been hard before, don't think they don't love each other, we all know true, and yet their family didn't anticipate the possibility of healthy communication among its members. But now it takes a lot more effort to talk. Sirius can't hear, but he can speak. Regulus can speak and hear, but cannot see. So, Sirius speaks. Sometimes Regulus answers and Sirius lip-reads, it gets better and better with the years but never perfect the meaning of some phrases is inevitably lost, but that's something they can at least handle. Sometimes Regulus writes — he remembers good how it's done, but still a little awkward, not nearly as perfect as it used to be, and yet understandable enough. They learn to use it more often. Talk more often. It is important for them not to lose connect. They seem to have lost it all their lives and only learned to fix it when it was too fucking late.This was exactly the moment when Sirius runs away from home and starts living with James. And Regulus needs time, his parents are careful with him, they no longer try to be as cruel as they used to be, mostly just words, and over the years he managed to develop a good immunity, they do not hurt as much as they could. Sirius hates himself for not being able to take Regulus. They still didn't talk back then, it was so difficult for them and Sirius couldn't just ask Regulus to come with him, he didn't believe he could protect him and felt incredibly vulnerable. But he offers in a year and Regulus agrees.

When they get back to Hogwarts, things clearly change. Honestly, even too much. Regulus has a specially trained guide dog, this is a collie named Lyra (actually, in honor of the constellation, but he did not tell anyone about it except Pandora), she is big, soft and fluffy, and she is also smart and really very strong helps him. He also has a cane inlaid with many spells, so he knows Hogwarts quite well, much better than the first years (which is a dubious achievement, but nonetheless).

Sirius is trying to cope with his condition, mostly not really knowing what to do. I'm thinking of a spell he might have found one day to help take notes, literally translate the words spoken by the professor into text (I know there's nothing like that in canon, but it would be fair if there was, and generally, I just don't care about canon, I REALLY don't care, it's there because I made it up right now). He carries around a notepad and pen so that people can write what they want to say to him, but he also often understands what they are saying by watching their lips move. He can also talk, but he can't hear himself, so it's often very loud/very quiet, he prefers to write, but in the company of marauders, he doesn't care if he seems stupid or awkward.

I think Regulus, even after losing his sight, plays the piano, it is important for him to hear and feel the keys under his fingers, it grounds him, calms him down, makes him feel whole. Sometimes it is unbearable, but more often it gets easier than worse. (As he gets older, there are days when his hands shake too much and he can't find the right keys. Then Lily kisses his temple and James puts his hands over Regulus', they play slowly, making Regulus feel more, feel integrity, pushing the keys until he's finally okay)

And sometimes their duet with Sirius is also heartbreaking. Sirius can't hear but can guide his hands, he just feels, he has enough feeling, he doesn't really like to play. He desperately wants to help Regulus. And he sees the keys, he may be his eyes.

So, speaking of marauders. Honestly, James was the first to know. I think Sirius ran away to him somewhere in the middle of summer vacation, so James went to Hogwarts already fluent in sign language and actively continuing his studies. They met Peter during that time, so he definitely found out, even if Sirius didn't want to show it, and sign language was incredibly difficult for Peter, but he tried!! (damn, he tries so hard to be tactful, I just know it, he doesn't want to offend him, he doesn't even speak in his presence, but mostly writes on a notepad to make Sirius comfortable!!!)

Remus only finds out at Hogwarts, not because Sirius doesn't want to tell him, but because Sirius feels bad and doesn't want to appear weak in front of his boyfriend, ok. In this universe, there is no prank, so they are really happy together, but Sirius's disability is very difficult, and he wants to withdraw into himself and never share his burden with anyone. But he still has to do it when they meet on the train, and it's, well, never been easy, ok? Sirius also believes that he is much more fortunate than Regulus and feels guilty because people surround him with care, it seems to him that he does not deserve it. 

I also think that Remus KNOWS sign language very well (I headcanon him with a large family, several younger and one older sister, I think one of his sisters is deaf so he had to learn sign language for her, I can talk about his sisters, in case anyone is wondering, I just love the concept of a big family where Remus is the middle child, and he is the only wizard, except for Lyall, if we are not talking about the fact that Pandora could be his sister. He also suffers from lycanthropy, and I think one of his sisters might, but that's another TALK....but, you know, he'll never be alone and his family is, well, a little wolf-family-pack. ..okay, just let me know if anyone is interested, this isn't even about Remus, I should fucking shut up) so that makes things a little easier? Except that Sirius himself needs time to learn sign language, but it's absolutely in his best interest, so he's trying so hard. Remus really tries to take care of him, he shares his notes with him before Sirius finds that spell (he's never done this before and it was never needed, but now Sirius is so grateful) and he's definitely taking the translator's position a bit with people who do not know sign language, he really is not a burden, because Sirius will never be a burden for him. Never.

And also I think that Regulus has a spell that makes the book read itself, which makes life easier, magic is beautiful. And he definitely learns to read braille later, but I don't think it's very common among wizards (he probably isn't at all. but over time his life is so closely intertwined with muggle world, he can't ignore it)

Let's talk about girls! I like to think that Lily was fluent in sign language before that, as if she seems like someone who will know it, or at least try to learn it. Mary and Marlene absolutely don't know but they are really good friends so they try. And Marlene is in love with being able to write constant notes in a notebook (gives atmosphere. She puts Sirius notes between textbooks, very, very many notes in a day, they become less over time, but she was never going to throw constant gossip with her bestfriend, thanks, even deafness will not interfere with her). Mary also uses her notebook to write for Sirius when she wants to say something.

I also think that Lily absolutely cares about Regulus (platonically or romantically, your choice), but she doesn't know what she can do for him, she just goes with him all the time, almost seems to blend in with the Slytherins. She reads books to him aloud because he likes how soothing her voice sounds, he actually has an amazing memory, he quotes something from what he has read before or from what he heard from Lily.

Evan and Barty don't know how to act at first. But over time it gets easier. Like there's no problem putting things back where they belong so that Regulus can move around the room with ease, at which point they're very clean. They try to spend a lot of time with him, sometimes it's even annoying, he can say it, but honestly he is grateful.

(also Lyra is absolutely delighted with Barty and Pandora, when Regulus is in bed and she doesn't help him anymore, she often goes to Barty's to get her helping strokes)

Dorcas is so excited when she finds out about this, she is actually so mad at his family. One of her best friends will never fucking see anything else because of his family (Regulus never told them the reason but they know. They all know). She is very afraid of how unsafe he can be in his house, but she obviously does not show it, it would be inappropriate and not quite in her character. She tries to be tactful and act like nothing has changed. And she's also very supportive, actually, she's just not clingy like Barty and Evan, for example, she's just expressing help in the little things, I would say. Her help is usually silent, but also surprisingly eloquent.

I didn't say much about Pandora, I'm sorry. They have an amazingly cute duo and an interesting way of getting around, when Regulus assumes his animagus form, he is also blind, but he is literally cat, so she often carries him around in her arms to his destination. It's faster. Oh, and she was the one who helped him find the spell to read!!

Also, I think Sirius's hearing will start to recover at some point, but it will never be good enough, it's just... some sounds, more sounds than total silence. I didn't mention hearing aids before and I don't think they're common among wizards, but he'll definitely use them when they get out in muggle London and, well, it won't give him perfect hearing, but it's a lot better than nothing...

(little bonus: when Sirius wants to be kissed, but he doesn't want to write about it in a notebook or make gestures because it will upset the mood, he puts his finger on his lips or on his forehead or on his cheek, my boy just wants kisses. And he spreads his arms out to the side when he's waiting for a hug and doesn't want to initiate it first. when alone with Remus, sometimes he just reaches out his palms. Oh, and he claps his hands when he tries to get someone's attention. It's easier for him not to talk than to talk so he keeps the conversations to a minimum)

art: likeafunerall

[writersdare]

Why Won't You Love Me | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke and Y/N broke up after a few months of dating so they could at least remain friends, but seemed like it didn't ease the pain.

Warning: angst, fluff, a bit of cursing and mentioning of alcohol

Word Count: 3 081

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: It's partly a song!fic, too, I guess. Hopefully you'll like it! I enjoyed writing their memories so much. Please, don’t forget to like/repost/comment, it helps a lot!

So many senseless quotes were out there. “They didn’t mean to be.” “They just met at the wrong time.” What did they try to express by that? Y/N was getting furious each time she’d bump into another photo with a pretty text on it. It’d hurt, actually hurt. From the throat, down the stomach, it would squeeze the guts inside and move lower, until she’d lose any desire to leave her bed and go to a short walk, at least. Those quotes were nothing but small ugly stones in a shiny candy wrapper. 

It wasn’t even supposed to be that painful. They ended the things up just after three months of dating, so there wouldn’t be a damage to their souls even more if they’d give each other another month. Why didn’t it go according to that perfect plan, though? Why would she be upset when he couldn’t be in touch during a tour, why did she prefer to be apart, but once they were, it didn’t feel any better? 

Why was he still dreaming about her at nights? Why would he wake up in the middle of sleep, calling her name? Why suddenly it was the only name he knew at all? The bed was colder, the pillow was more of a sharp rock, and the food lost its flavors.

The life didn’t even let them catch a breath. It seemed like it couldn’t get any worse at that point, truly. Luke was back to LA after touring, and they meant to remain friends, yet, they hadn’t seen each other ever since. It was just hard, almost unbearable. They thought they’d break up to save their friendship, and yet they lost everything. Each other. 

Y/N would still be in touch with other guys, only sometimes though. It wasn’t like it used to be, surely. Everyone knew it couldn’t be, even if they didn’t talk about it openly. Yet, Ash decided to send Y/N a short message, asking to meet as he was finally home. Honestly, it was the only nice day for the past few months.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Luke turned all the way to the window and stared at Ashton and Y/N, who were approaching the car. They were talking and smiling, Ash was carrying her suitcase.

“Y/N had rough few weeks, so Ashton suggested her going to the villa with us,” Calum explained casually, looking at the friend.

Lu hastened to turn towards Cal, who was sitting just behind him.

“You kidding? It supposed to be our weekend!”

“And it will be, Luke,” Michael hurried up to reassure, resting hands on a steering wheel. “C’mon, we are still her friends, she’s quitting her job and yet can’t find anything good for her, you have to be a bit understanding.”

“Understanding?!” he outraged. “Could you at least warn me in advance, guys?!”

“We knew you wouldn’t mind anyway. Even if you’re now behaving like you do,” Cal answered and turned a head away, as the door opened, and Y/N got inside.

“Hi, guys,” she smiled shortly.

“Hey, how are you?” Mike gave her a hug as much as he could, being in the driver’s seat.

Calum smiled and cuddled the girl, too.

“Hi, Y/N, so glad to see you.”

“It’s mutual, Cal,” she nodded and then leaned towards Luke. It’d be weird to ignore him.

“Hey,” he only said and patted Y/N on a shoulder, almost holding his breath so he wouldn’t sense the perfume the guy used to love so much.

She hadn’t exactly changed. Maybe a little. Yes, Luke saw dark circles under her pretty eyes, her face was tired and lost its healthy color, but she was still beautiful. Y/N smiled, and the musician only sighed, looking away, because it was simply impossible to look at her. To remember that they didn’t work out because of their own stupidity, naivety, recklessness and ego, assuming they could be just fine without each other.

Ashton placed the girl’s suitcase in a trunk and got inside as well, so Michael started the car.

The road was long. It took almost two hours, for Luke it felt all four. He almost didn’t speak. The guy was staring at the window, observing the nature passing by, while others didn’t stop talking. At some moment he just closed the eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Maybe it was childish, but it helped to feel the pain less. 

“Luke?” she stopped next to him, as they all came inside, and Ash gave everyone a tour to their new home for the coming week.

The villa was a pretty one, spacious, with a pool, fireplace, tennis court, few bedrooms downstairs and upstairs. But honestly the head was so much not there.

The guy turned to Y/N and only mumbled something, waiting for her to continue. She sighed and hid hands in pockets of a hoodie.

“I know it… it can be uncomfortable for us, and… I’m sorry if it’s the case for you. I… just missed… my friends,” the girl was trying to find the right words carefully. “And I really needed some change in my routine,” she sighed.

“No, we are all glad to see you,” Luke said, and he knew it was the truth even if he was hiding it from himself. “Mike told me you have some problems with the job, though. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?”

Her lips stretched into a smile immediately, and she shrugged. 

“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, looking at the girl’s eyes.

“Do what?”

“Smile. I know you’re hurt.”

It was painful to watch. Him, pretending he was ready to come back as a comforting “just friend”, and her, behaving like she was strong enough to move forward without him. The world was falling apart, they knew it. Didn’t figure out how to fix it, yet.

Ashton was right, though, the change of a place was helping Y/N a lot. Maybe the presence of Luke was, too. It felt nice to let the head have a rest and not to think of problems which were waiting for her in LA. It was nice to forget the day of a week and lose track of time. And it was rather healing to notice Luke’s eyes on hers, to feel a slight touch of the fingers on her skin while he was passing by or taking the same candy from a vase. He felt almost alive again. And she finally remembered how it was, in heaven. 

Luke was an angel. She’d tell him that millions of times when they were together. During breakfast or before going to bed. While he’d be touching her like only he could, or when he’d sing for her. He was an angel. The guy would laugh at that. Would get certainly shy, and maybe she’d, if would be extremely lucky, see a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I think you were a Cupid back in centuries,” she said, lying with him in bed.

“A what?” Luke chuckled and left a soft kiss on her nose. “What kind of silly thoughts are in your head, Y/N?”

“No, I’m honest,” the girl smiled and hugged a pillow, looking at him. “Your eyes are reflection of the sky, Luke. Your golden hair is just like Cupid’s. You have magical voice, and you have a soul of an angel,” she rested a palm on his chest. “Do you think you can fly?”

He smiled and leaned to kiss her sweet lips.

“I feel like flying all the time when I’m with you,” Luke whispered. 

He had to leave. They both knew it, there wasn’t even anything dramatic about that. The tour had lasted for months, when he’d go back home for few days it was just harder to say a goodbye. The last time they had said it, as a couple, they had probably already known it’d be their last kiss. Luke knew they weren’t alright, but he couldn’t stay and talk it through. She didn’t want him to, either. Y/N knew what she signed for when they started to date, the girl wasn’t delusional. They just both thought the distance wouldn’t hurt them. 

They hated the phone calls. It was easier with texts, but when he’d see her face on a screen, Luke would have to hold back the tears. She’d smile, just like she did when they arrived to the villa and he asked how she was, and then would cry all night, missing him, them. Desperately, unbearable. 

“I just feel lonely, Luke. I feel lonelier with you than I was by myself,” Y/N said the other night, and it just broke him, simply, without any other bright adjectives, without complexion.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I don’t want that to. But maybe that’s why we need to stop this torment.”

“Is that how it is for you to be with me?”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s how it is being without you.”

She still remembered his eyes that night. Maybe it was for the better they spoke on the phone and not in person. Maybe it was for the better that he was hundreds of miles away from her. His eyes were cloudy, grey, bursting into rain any second. Y/N was already crying. She hadn’t stopped for the past few days after that call.

The pain was going away, though, slowly. Who knew the pill from the agony could be the same as for happiness. She thought it’d be awkward; and truly was trying to reassure Ashton and explain how weird it’d be to go on a trip with them after all what had happened between her and Luke. But Ash knew it was exactly what the guys needed. A second chance…

“Do you like it here?” Luke turned his head towards Y/N as she entered the kitchen to get a snack, and smiled. The guy himself was sitting on a couch with a guitar in his hands. He was working on a new song, the idea came to his mind a few days ago, when they first arrived to the villa. 

The girl looked at the musician and smiled back, taking a slice of rye bread and a plate.

“I do,” she said honestly. 

“On a scale of liquorice to pizza how much do you like it here?” Luke chuckled and left the guitar on a couch, then walked towards Y/N.

“Pizza level,” the girl laughed shortly and showed avocado in a hand. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” he nodded and got another slice of bread. “I’m happy you’re having a rest here, with us.”

“Really?” Y/N sounded almost surprised, washing the fruit.

“Of course,” Luke hurried up to glance at her, as the girl knew his sky eyes didn’t lie. “Why are you amazed?”

“No, it’s just…” she shrugged. “I was worried it’d be odd, but the truth is…”

“I’m really glad to see you,” the guy interrupted her, as he really wanted to say it first.

Y/N smiled and nodded, glancing at Luke.

“I’m really glad to see you, too…”

Luke sighed and put a bread slice on a plate.

“Look, I… I’m sorry it happened like that. I… I should have been stronger; I knew it wouldn’t be easy…”

“Luke, you shouldn’t have,” Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want him to blame himself, it wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, but now I feel like I gave up too easily,” he said honestly, looking at the girl, while she was making them sandwiches.

“We both gave up,” she corrected him and, seeing Lu wanted to say something else, hurried up to change the topic.

“Where are the others, by the way?”

“They went to get some grocery,” he mumbled, not being convinced with the news himself. Friends probably thought they were idiots.

“Oh,” Y/N nodded. “Ash didn’t really warn me, weird.”

For some reason that phrase made him chuckle in annoyance and even though “don’t say it” was ringing in his head, he spilled it out nevertheless.

“You and Ashton are pretty close, huh?”

The girl raised her eyebrows in a surprise and looked up at the guy.

“I mean… Just like with all of you?” Y/N asked, although it wasn’t exactly the truth — with Luke it was different.

The musician immediately got embarrassed that he snapped at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to be jealous, you aren’t even mine,” 'anymore', he wanted to add but bit his lips before adding anything more stupid.

The girl swallowed and looked down.

“Ash and I are just friends. Always were and always will be,” she said quietly, wondering if Luke knew the reason. Because she still loved him, of course, she did. Her angelic boy…

“I wrote a song,” he mumbled. “I mean, I’m still writing it,” the guy ran the hand through his hair, getting nervous. “Wanna check it out? The melody isn’t here yet, there are just lyrics for now.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” Y/N nodded, and they took a seat on a couch with their snacks. Usually, Luke didn’t like people checking his unfinished songs or lyrics, but, driving by emotions, the guy really wanted her to read the lines he came up with.

Y/N took the notebook and read hastily written text. It was clear Luke was in a hurry to put it on paper until he forgot. 

Switching into airplane mode again We're not alright but I'll pretend Press my cheek against the glass Just be good 'til I get back

The ground disappears I hold back the tears I check my phone to see your face Staring back as if to say Don't worry, you won't be lonely

“Luke, it’s so beautiful…” Y/N smiled and looked up at Luke. “Almost like a story. And I desperately want to find out what will be next for them,” she handed the notebook back to him.

“Really?” the corners of the guy’s lips twitched in a short smile. Luke wasn’t sure if Y/N actually got that the unfinished song was about them. Was she pretending so he wouldn’t rise that topic again? She didn’t miss him? “Thanks. I guess,” the guy mumbled and put the notebook on a coffee table, feeling another burn in a heart.

Y/N wasn’t lying and surely didn’t want to hurt Luke. She just thought it’d be too narcissistic to think the song was about them, after all their relationship didn’t last long. Before that they were just friends. The song could be about anyone. Could be about some fiction characters, too…

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? You imagine when you close your eyes You're with me on the other side So why won't you love me?

Whiskey became his friend for a while. Stupid, useless, Luke knew. Yet the only time when he was not thinking about Y/N was mostly when he was drunk. Although even at that time memories would rush to his head, while he’d be sitting at a bar where they used to go together.

He wished he could call her and hear “I love you, too”, but he didn’t dare to hit a green button on his phone. They broke up, they were just friends. They supposed to remain friends, became strangers instead. But then found each other again, thanks to his band mates.

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? We're together, all alone tonight So helpless from the other side So why won't you love me?

It didn’t matter if the guys were planning to have a rest, they all knew that at some point they’d still end up in a studio making music. Y/N wasn’t surprised to see a small one on the villa either – friends would only regret if they didn’t have their creative space.

At such times the girl didn’t usually bother them and was spending time by herself, enjoying small vacation. Honestly, she needed it. And even though Y/N was not with Luke anymore, just to be in his presence and see his face was the greatest gift.

“So, you finished it? I like it,” the girl smiled and entered the studio, as Luke performed the last accords of a song he showed her just few days ago. The band mates left to order food, but Luke decided to stay for a little longer.

“Sure, you do,” he chuckled and annoyingly leaned the guitar against the wall.

“I… do like it,” Luke’s coldness in a voice took Y/N by surprise, so she stumbled. “You think I’m lying?”

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it,” he jumped from a couch and hurried up to leave, but the girl caught his hand.

“Luke… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s nothing, really. Glad you liked the song. I just thought you’d be less delusional about it.”

Y/N felt like chills run all over her body, while she was looking at Luke’s blue eyes. 

“Wait,” she swallowed. “Was this song about me? Us?…"

“Oh, so you finally figured it out?” he chuckled again and rolled the eyes, crossing arms on the chest as if not believing that all that time Y/N didn’t understand it. And honestly, she felt ashamed for not getting it all along.

“Luke… I just thought it’d be… too much of me to think so, I thought that maybe it’s just some fiction or about someone else and—“

The guy covered her palm with his, interrupting.

“All the songs for the past month were about you, Y/N,” he shook his head. “How could you not realize that?”

“Maybe because you’re asking why I won’t love you?”

“And what about it?” the guy shrugged.

“Because I already love you, Luke. Always have, nothing has changed,” she looked down, whispering her confession.

The guy’s heart threatened to break a chest with such a rushed beating.

“I hold on to you and you hold on to me,” he whispered back one of the final lines of the song and smiled shortly, squeezing the girl’s hand in his. “I don’t like being without you, Y/N. I’ve tried, I just hated it.”

The girl sighed and simply hugged her angelic boy, resting a head on his chest.

“I hated it, too. And I want to hold on to you if you hold on to me…”

“Always,” he promised and left a short kiss on her temple.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

Moodboard ♡

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @bettermcn and here @killmytimes –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Prompt List