#would this be easier if i learnt to make gifs

[woso-dreamzzz]

Perfect II

Alexia Putellas x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You've gotten very stubborn

Alexia sits up on the physio's table, getting her ankle checked out.

Usually, she would be focused on her check up and trying to wheedle the physio with questions about her recovery time and her rehab regime.

This time though, she's watching you toddle around the room with a football that you try to kick determinedly into the little goal set up in the corner.

It's a proper football as well - one of the full sized ones Alexia and Patri were training with earlier and one that Alexia hadn't even realised you'd stolen.

"Y/n, mija," She says softly," Where is your ball?"

The ball you usually use is not this one. This one is much too big for a little toddler like you. Much too big because you can barely even control it, clumsily swinging your leg around as you try to get it towards the little goal in the corner.

"Is my ball!" You insist as you wildly kick again with your Bun-Bun fisted in your grip.

You barely connect with the ball and it goes bouncing off in a direction that you don't want it to go.

"In your bag," The physio murmurs, nodding his head over to where your tiny football sits just poking out of Alexia's bag.

It's small for an adult like Alexia but just big enough for a little girl like you and Alexia forces herself to her feet to go and fetch it.

"Mija, baby," She calls over to you," Why don't you come and play with your ball? It'll be easier."

"Hmm." You shake your head, bringing your toy up to your ear like the rabbit is telling you a big secret. "Bun-Bun say no."

"Well, Mami," Alexia says pointedly," Says yes. I would like you to play with your ball."

"No," You reply, firmly booting the big ball into the wall.

"Y/n, yes."

"Mami, no."

The physio chuckles to himself from his spot by the computer, typing up whatever he's noted about Alexia's ankle. "I don't miss that phase."

Alexia sighs, wiping a hand over her face for a moment before crouching down to your level with the ball. "Are you sure you don't want to play with your ball? It's lonely without you."

You fix Alexia a look that she swears she once saw on Alba's face years ago. "Is just a ball, Mami," You tell her," Doesn't have real feelings."

So, Alexia has to admit that you've got her there but it was worth at least a try.

"It'll be easier for you," She continues," And you can show off all your skills."

"Can do that with big ball." You toddle after the big ball again and finally manage to nudge it into the goal.

"Pick your fights," The physio laughs," They're stubborn at this age. You won't win."

He's right, of course, because Alexia is acutely aware of how stubborn you've gotten.

It's like you've learnt to walk and kind of how to talk and the stubbornness came hand in hand with it all.

It didn't help, of course, that your designated babysitter is Alexia's sister, who seems to delight in teaching you things that drives Alexia up the wall.

Even Eli had laughed about it once, the way you had seemingly picked up a bit of Alba's attitude just by hanging out with her for a few hours every week.

Alexia could only be glad that you seemed to take after her more than you take after Alba though as you stare determinedly at the big ball at your feet, once again rearing your leg bag and booting it across the room.

The force of your kick forces you off balance though and you plop onto the floor.

Alexia stifles a laugh at your look of pure confusion, like you can't understand why you've gone from standing to sitting so suddenly. She moves easily towards you, lifting you up and placing you on your feet again.

"Maybe not as strong," She says fondly, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your hair bow again," Remember, we want to control the ball, not lose possession."

She grabs the big ball, tucking it under her arm before she grabs the goal in one hand and your hand in the other.

She has to shorten her stride to make sure she doesn't leave you behind as you both head out to the pitch.

Technically, Alexia's day of training is over.

She's gone through her paces. She's had her check up with physio. She's gone to the gym. She's done her work on the field.

Her day is done.

You seem to think yours is just beginning and Alexia is all for encouraging you.

She sets your little goal down on the pitch along with your little ball and her big ball.

You reach for the big one but Alexia's quick feet keep it out of your grip.

You huff and she laughs a little.

"I'll show you what to do with my ball," She says," And you can do it with your ball."

"Want your ball!"

"It's my ball," Alexia explains patiently with a soft smile at the disgruntled look on your face," You have your ball. I have mine and we train together. Is that alright? If you do well, maybe we can both train with the team later. But you have to use your ball."

You huff and puff but pick up your ball.

Alexia grins.

"Now, we're going to practice staying on our feet after we shoot."

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Stupid Decision (Alex Cabot x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You always make stupid decisions when beautiful women are involved and Alex Cabot is so very beautiful.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, jealousy, boss/employee relationship, some self-esteem issues, marking, possessiveness, biting, edging, swearing

Going out to the bar that night had been an inspired idea. You’d won your case, your biggest one yet. Your closing arguments had been a thing of beauty. Untouchable was the word that had been thrown around.

You’d laughed it off but it made you glow from the inside out.

Being swept out the door to celebrate had been natural. It was hard to argue when you’d been so phenomenal. So when your colleagues had said it, you hadn’t required much convincing.

Now, a few drinks down, your limbs loose and your thoughts fun, you were so glad you’d gone out. The music was loud enough that people were dancing, your lips moving along with the lyrics. You were laughing, head thrown back, feeling freer without the stress of the case weighing you down. You hadn’t realised just how much it had been effecting you.

You rolled your head away, feeling deliciously loose, but not so much that you were growing sloppy. Just the right amount of alcohol coursing through your system to loosen you up, to make you feel easier in your own body. A flash of blonde hair had you focusing.

Blue eyes, cool enough to be ice shards, were watching you. Lifting your drink, you cheered her from across the bar. It might not be the smart decision, but it was the impulse you were following. Her lips pursed, reminding you exactly why it was a bad idea to give in to your alcohol fuelled thoughts.

“Come dance.”

Warm hands grasped yours. You dragged your attention away from the woman at the other end of the bar, the woman you knew but not as well as you’d like, and found your friend grinning at you. You let her drag you onto the dance floor, the bass thumping in your veins. You held onto her as your hips swayed, singing along to the stupid pop song being pumped through the speakers.

Your head tipped back, your laugh easy and light. Your arms curled around her neck while hers landed on your waist. It was nice to let yourself go after being wound so tight. Although you could think of a wonderful way to relax.

Your head rolled back towards the blonde at the bar. She was still watching, lips pursed around a straw, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Your mouth grew dry.

“I need another drink,” you said, leaning closer to your friend to shout in her ear.

She released you with a good natured shove, directing you back towards the bar. You tottered over to her end of the bar. Leaning forward, forearms on the bar, you shouted your order to the bartender. Then, you chose to do the thing you knew was a bad idea.

Your hip resting against the bar, you turned towards her. Alexandra Cabot. The beauty at the end of the bar. And your boss.

“You should have told us you were coming out tonight,” you said, “you could have joined us.”

“Yes, because nothing brings up the mood like the boss joining in on a boozy night out,” she said.

You shifted closer under the guise of trying to hear better. From the way her lips pulled up you weren’t sure you were selling it very well.

“We’re celebrating,” you said, “as a team.”

“You look like you’re having fun,” she said.

“I just won the biggest case of my career. I think I’m entitled to some,” you said.

“Enjoy it,” she said.

The bartender slid your drink over to you. You picked it up, tongue pulling the straw into your mouth as you smiled at Alex. You saw the way her gaze focused on your mouth before she pulled it back to your eyes. You tilted your head to the side, taking a slow drink with your straw.

Her hand shifted across the bar towards you. One leg crossed over the other, looking so unbelievably long. You would give anything to sink between them.

“You did well today,” she said.

“I learnt from the best,” you replied, “plus, I have my secret weapon.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You lent closer until your lips were brushing the shell of her ear.

“I’m wearing something to give me a bit of extra confidence,” you whispered.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” Her voice lowered into something that shot straight between your legs.

“Am I?” You lent back to take a sip from your drink.

“I’m your boss,” she said.

“And you’re beautiful.”

The expression on her face was one you could revel in. All smouldering eyes and smirking lips. You’d caught glimpses of it before but to have it completely focused on you, full power, had you pressing your thighs together. Her smirk deepened and you knew she’d noticed.

The trouble with having such a hot boss was the way it made you feel insane. One nice compliment, one smile, one lingering look and your heart went into over time and your imagination went spiralling out in ways it shouldn’t. Alex was completely off limits, no matter how gorgeous.

You were blowing right through those limits with alcohol and joy running through your veins.

Her fingertips brushed the back of your hand, the one curled around the cool glass of your drink. Your lips parted and her gaze fell back to them. Your tongue dragged along your lower lip, watching her eyes follow it with obvious interest.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“I’m not,” you replied.

“You must be or else you wouldn’t be trying this,” she said, “you know better.”

“I don’t. Pretty women make me stupid.” You grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes but her lips were still curling up into a smile. You shifted just a little closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, wondering what her skin would feel like beneath your hands. Your eyes dipped down, lingering on the shadow of the curve of her breast. Your mouth watered.

“And how stupid are you feeling tonight?” she asked.

“Enough to make a bad decision.”

You lent towards her, ready to risk it all for a kiss. Her hand on your shoulder stilled you, keeping you from carrying through with your bad decision. You froze, looking down at her, wondering if this was the moment she told you it was never going to happen, that there would be a HR meeting, that you would be cautioned at work.

“Go have fun,” she said, eyes running over your body before they met your gaze again, “one of us has to be the smart one.”

“Says who?”

You flashed her a wink before you turned back to the dance floor. Your colleagues cheered when you joined them, welcoming you back with open arms. You went easily enough.

Only as one song progressed to the next, your hips swayed in time with the beat and you kept glancing over your shoulder to see if a certain pair of blues eyes were on you. Every single time they were. It sent a thrill through you.

A pair of hands landed on your hips, a body brushing against your back. You turned, a pair of dark eyes looking down at you, full lips smirking as this woman guided you to the music. You lent back against her, letting her take the lead. When you glanced up, the blue eyes were gone.

The pang of disappointment lasted the length of one heartbeat to the next. Long fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you forward, away from the stranger. There they were, your blue eyes, flashing with anger. You grinned up at her.

“What happened to being smart?” you asked.

“Fuck that.”

Her lips descended on yours, hungry and possessive. You whimpered, pressing closer, your arms curling around her neck. She consumed you completely, kissing you like she owned you. She did.

“We’re leaving,” she growled, “now.”

“I thought you wanted me to have fun,” you said, blinking your eyes up at her, faking your innocence.

“You’ll be having fun. I promise,” she said.

Her fingers threaded through yours, dragging you off the dance floor and out of the bar. You slid into the cab beside her, her hand landing on your thigh. You shifted, legs opening enough to see her knowing smirk even as she faced forward.

Her hand climbed your thigh, inching higher and higher with every passing moment, even as the silence stretched. You squirmed, already feeling how wet you were growing. She’d barely touched you. It was embarrassing.

You followed her into an apartment building, modern and new, far more expensive than anything you could afford. In the lift, you kept your back pressed to the far wall, letting your eyes travel over her body. The tight skirt of her dress was doing wonders for her ass.

Her apartment was nice. So nice. The nicest place you’d been in a while. But all that was lost as her hands landed on your hips and her lips descended on your neck. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe a flurry of tearing clothes off and falling into bed, all desperate need and fire burning hot. Somehow, this was both better and worse.

You lent back against her, there in her living room, feeling the heat of her kisses on your skin. Your head tipped to her shoulder, letting her hold you up as one of her hands was slow to slide up your body.

“So which article of clothing was your secret weapon?” she asked, lips brushing your skin.

“Guess,” you shot back.

“This blouse?” she asked as her fingers began to undo the buttons.

“Try again,” you said, arching your back when her fingers brushed over your newly exposed skin.

“This skirt?” she guessed.

You shook your head as her fingers lowered the zip at the back. Stepping out of her hold, you slid the blouse from your shoulders. You bent, pushing the skirt over your hips and stepping out of it. Tuning, you let her look your fill at your exposed body, taking in your secret weapon.

When you’d put the lingerie on that morning, it had been to give you an extra pep to your step as you did closing arguments. A little secret no one else would know about it. Something to help you feel like you were in control as you sent the pervert to prison for the rest of his life.

Now, standing in front of her, waiting to see her response, you felt those nerves that always came when you let someone see you so vulnerable. Her eyes were dark as the swept over your body, lingering long enough for you to wonder if you looked monstrous.

“When you put this little set on, were you planning on someone seeing it?” she asked, still staring at your body.

“I was hoping,” you said.

Her eyes met yours, jaw clenching. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, unsure if the look she was giving you was a good thing or not.

“Who were you hoping would see it?” she asked.

“Do you want the full list?” Now probably wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Only the top contender,” she said.

“You.” You looked down at your feet, “I was hoping if I did well enough on this case you would…”

“Ravage you on your desk in reward?”

Your gaze shot up to her, the heat on your cheeks burning. You weren’t about to admit that yes, that was a fantasy you’d had. Not necessarily the one you’d had while dressing that morning, but certainly one you’d spent enough time on.

“You’ve been having some very naughty thoughts,” she said.

“Only about you,” you said with a small shrug.

Her hands were burning when they met your bare skin. You made such a small noise, one that was somewhere between a whimper and plea. With a soft touch, her finger ran along the waistband of your panties.

“I’m still your boss,” she said.

“And you’re still beautiful,” you replied.

She considered you a moment before she lent forward, kissing you again. Your hands clutched at her blazer, dragging her closer. Her tongue was in your mouth, tasting of the burn of whiskey and the heat of desire. Her hands slid around your body, gripping your waist tight enough to feel delicious.

When she began to walk you back, you kicked your heels off, not needing to fall on your ass while trying to be sexy. Your hands dragged her blazer off her shoulders, losing it in the hurry of being shoved backwards towards what you hoped was her bedroom. You dragged your nails down the length of her back, not sure she could feel it but needing something to ground yourself as she lit the fire in your veins.

The back of your knees hit the mattress and you fell back. She let you go, standing over you, eyes raking over you. You shivered under her dark gaze, wondering what she was seeing.

“You’ve really been wearing this all day?” she asked.

“Uh huh.”

She groaned, low in her throat.

“I was watching in court today,” she said, eyes slipping closed, “knowing you had this on under your clothes…”

“Makes you want to ravage me on my desk?”

Her raised eyebrow was implied as she looked down at you, the irony not lost on you. But she opened that door. It wasn’t your fault if she didn’t like where it might lead.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” But even as she said it her lips were curling up.

“You like it,” you said.

“Don’t assume,” she said, “even if you’re right.”

She swooped down, her lips on yours again. Your legs curled around her waist, trapping her against you. You moaned, hot and filthy, doing your best to urge her on. Her lips trailed down from your jaw to your neck. Your head fell back, giving her as much space as she wanted as she sucked what you knew would be a hickey into your skin. You’d let her mark you up all pretty as much as she wanted.

You were hers. It was time everyone else figured it out too. Even her.

Her teeth scraped over your skin. Your legs tightened around her, trying to draw her closer. You moaned her name, not caring how you sounded, just needing her. Her next suck was harsh, almost painful, but in the best way possible.

When she kissed around to the other side you let her. The thought of having mirror image marks on your body was turning you on more than you could express. Her hands were cupping your breasts, thumbs finding your hardening nipples through the lace of your bra. You whimpered, fingers pushing into her hair as you held her in place.

Her tongue dragged over your skin. You sighed, hips pressing up against her. She chuckled as she moved down to your chest, lips following the curve of your breast, pushed up in the scraps of lace covering them. Your back arched, offering yourself to her mouth.

“Fuck, this should be made illegal,” she groaned into your skin.

“What?” you asked, breathless and desperate for more.

“You in this.” Her finger snapped the shoulder strap of the bra, “you look too good in it.”

You squirmed under the intensity of her gaze. Her fingers pinched your nipple. The stuttery moan that fell from your lips was the only answer you could give her.

“I’m going to make sure no one ever sees you in this set again,” she said.

“How?” you asked, surprised you could form even a single word as she rolled your nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“By making you mine.”

Alex Cabot was going to ruin you.

She dragged the bra from your body, tossing it aside like it meant nothing. Her lips were all over you, teeth scraping over skin, suckling on your nipples in a way that had you arching into her, crying out, begging for more.

She was so warm, so hot as she touched you, lapping at your skin, turning your thoughts hazy. When you’d thought about this moment, in those dark hours of the night buried beneath your covers, fingers skimming over your own skin, it hadn’t even come close to the reality. You felt insane, clutching at her as her mouth worked wonders on you.

It wasn’t as she began to trail her mouth downwards that you even thought about how much better it could be. She might dominate in the courtroom, her mouth clever and smart, but with you, it was dirty. It was hot and all consuming and capable of things you hadn’t realised. The things you wanted to do to that mouth were not appropriate for company to hear.

“Alex,” you whimpered, hips pressing up as she reached the waistband of your panties.

“Next time you wear this,” she said, lips pressing to your inner thigh, “tell me beforehand. I want to picture you walking around the office just like this.”

“Yes,” you hissed as her teeth sunk in.

“So fucking pretty,” she groaned.

Her tongue pressed to the wet patch on your panties. You gasped, hips bucking up into her mouth. When you looked down your body, her blue eyes were trained on you already, lips pulling up in a smirk.

“Alex. Need you,” you managed to say.

“Oh no, princess. You started this little game. You can’t be mad that you’re losing,” she said.

“Doesn’t feel like losing,” you said.

She tore your panties off you.

“Then let me make myself very clear,” she said, lowering until her breath ghosted over you glistening folds, “you do what I tell you and if you impress me, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to remember your own name.”

“Doesn’t sound like losing,” you said.

Her teeth sunk into your inner thigh, deep enough for you to yelp.

“Want to try that again?” she asked.

“Yes ma��am,” you said.

“Good girl.”

Her tongue swept through your folds, the heat building. She would burn you to ash, of that you were certain. Her hands kept your hips pinned to the mattress, stopping you from encouraging her on. You sighed her name, glad to finally have her touching you where you needed her most. You were throbbing.

“You’re fucking dripping,” she said, looking up your body.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” you replied.

She rewarded you by wrapping her lips around your clit, sucking on it in a way that had your eyes rolling back in your head. You squeezed your eyes closed, letting yourself feel everything she was giving you. Her hands were still keeping you pinned, forcing you to only take what she wanted you to, never more, never quite enough.

She took her time, exploring you, finding all the ways to turn you into a live wire of desire. Every whimper seemed to only make her more determined to draw out more from you. She took you apart and then let you stew in it before taking you apart all over again.

“Eyes on me,” she said, after the third time she’d brought you to the edge only to bring you back.

And like the perfect little employee who knew how to follow orders, you forced your eyes open to look right into hers. They were sparkling as they looked up at you. Her tongue dipped into your entrance and you found yourself whimpering her name.

She was methodical. She’d taken note of everything that made you feel alive, cataloguing them as she found more. With the kind of precision you’d witnessed in court, she applied everything she’d learnt and built you back up to the precipice so quickly it was mind boggling. Your fingers were still threaded through her hair, holding her to your heat.

It was her long fingers that were your undoing. First one, then a second pushed into you. You were trembling beneath her, legs thrown over her shoulders, clutching at her as she split you open. Her name was nothing but a moan, almost unintelligible. Her fingers curled, seeking out just a little more from you.

You broke apart underneath her, crying out her name, wondering if the heavens could hear you. It washed over you, an unstoppable force, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into your body. She eased you through it, lapping at you, drinking down everything that came from you.

She watched you through the entire thing.

You fell back, your laughter shaky as a hand passed over your face. She eased your legs back to the bed, unpinning your hips. A soft kiss was pressed to your hipbone. You looked down your body at her, finding her lips pulled up into a very pleased smile.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, turning your gaze up to the ceiling.

You felt the mattress shift under you as she lay beside you. Your turned your face towards her as her hand splayed over your stomach. You liked it, the way her touch felt like a claiming, even after what you’d just done.

“Still think this was a stupid decision?” she asked.

“Oh, probably,” you said, “but it was definitely worth it.”

“You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and regret it?”

Her expression turned serious. You rolled onto your side, gently cupping your cheek as you lent forward. The kiss was soft, a simple thing but all the reassurance you could give.

“I’ve been wanting this for long enough that I could never regret it,” you said, “unless you decide to ice me out now.”

“Not happening,” she said.

“Promise?”

Her fingers traced over the planes of your face and you shuffled closer. Those eyes of hers had always been intense, but this was different. This was more. Like she was x-raying your very soul and didn’t find you wanting the way others had.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” she said.

“Good.”

You settled against her, sliding an arm around her waist. She was so warm against you, so soft, the antithesis to how she seemed at work. There was no ice now.

“And you don’t regret it?” you asked.

“I don’t think anyone could regret you,” she replied, her fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“But I didn’t even manage to get you out of your clothes,” you said, propping your chin on her chest to look at her properly.

“This was about you, baby. A reward for a job well done,” she said.

“And what if I want to eat something as my reward?” you asked.

“Don’t be greedy,” she laughed.

“I can’t help it,” you said, “when it comes to you I can’t get enough.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She was smiling in a way that made your heart flutter.

“You demand my attention, you’re desperate for my praise, and you watch me when you think I don’t notice. But I do. I always notice you,” she said, voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Oh yeah? What do you notice about me?” you asked, shifting to straddle her waist, looking down at her.

Her fingers trailed up your thighs, sending heat flicking through your veins again. The patterns she drew over your skin made you breathless, even as you were still recovering from the intense orgasm she’d already given you.

“What a desperate little slut you are,” she said.

Her fingers dug into your thighs, hard enough to hurt, but you found your hips already rolling against her, seeking out some friction.

“Proving my point so beautifully,” she murmured, gaze turning towards your undulating hips.

“Gonna do something about it?” you asked.

She did something about it that stopped you running your mouth again.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 44 KISS ON THE COURT

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes

NOTES | and that's a wrap on LOTC ! thank you guys for reading ily all so much! I had a lot of fun writing this smau and I loved all your comments/reblogs/asks about it 🫶 I love LOTC and she's lwk my baby, being the 1st smau i wrote (and finished because im still distraught over cherry flavoured...) but I also think I've learnt a lot in the writing process and I'm pretty sure I can do better (or I hope so at least 😅) so stay tuned for a jeno smau otw !

more cute jaemy/n moments should follow in bonus chapters (if i write them...)! but this is the official end to lotc because I'm impatient and want it to be over 😭 thanks for reading ❤️

"You think we can win?"

Up until now, the room had been quiet, and a lingering sense of uncertainty that no one had spoken of was present.

But Heeseung had never been scared to speak his mind, not directing the question at anyone in specific.

Still all eyes undoubtedly fell to the two captains. Jaemin and Y/n, who sat beside each other, hands clasped together, fingers interlaced. It was only natural that at a time like this, the team would turn to the two of them, and they had no intention to disappoint.

As she looked up, Y/n lifted her head off Jaemin's shoulder, sucking in a breath before rising to her feet.

She refused to back down, standing tall despite the heat on her face, even though every part of her wanted nothing more than to be alone, curled away and to have kept to herself.

She had a team, and she owed it to them to stay strong. They had come so far, there was no way she would let this stop them from making it to the finals.

"I know we can win."

She reached behind herself, for the clipboard she had been messily scribbling notes on for the better half of the morning, until Jaemin had forced her away from strategising. "We have higher points than team B who we played last time, and we're tied for points with team C, so all we have to do is play our best," She smiles, looking at everyone in the room, and though no one mirrors her expression, the feeling of hope begins to rise from the dejected players, slowly, "There's no way we're losing our last game, and we're especially not going to let it be our first loss of the season."

Jaemin smiled, noticing the slightly concerned glint in her eyes, but not speaking much of it, only standing to his feet beside her with another even brighter smile. He wouldn't say it, but for a moment, the thought crossed his mind, maybe she was the better captain after all. That being said, he didn't care all that much about being better than her anymore, as long as he was with her, it would be enough.

"You haven't lost until you think you have," he speaks, remembering what he was intedning to do, "We're in a bad situation but we can always make the most of it. Let's play our best, and we'll walk out exactly how we planned." Jaemin nods, voice full of strength.

Still, the room feels cold, like the wind rushes past them, and happiness with it, low spirits and sighs of disbelief filling the room

Y/n let's her eyes meet Jaemin's beside her.

"We don't say it much" she starts off, "have to keep ourselves humble somehow don't we, but" she scans her eyes across the room, "you guys are some of the best players in the country, that has to count for something."

Jaemin chuckles, "I'd say it counts for a lot"

He hears the way Y/n gulps beside him, her eyes watering as she realises their words aren't being received as well as they'd hoped, his hand finding hers beside him. Though it's loose, his grip is comforting, motivating in the best of ways.

There's a moment of silence.

"Winning is a mindset." Y/n finally states, with perhaps the most rigidity she's ever presented in her voice, confident, and somewhat assertive, "You walk onto the court like you've already won and you will. That's what we’re going to do" she speaks with such certainty. It's almost hard not to believe, "We will win, it's just what we do."

"You're right" Isa stands up, triumphant "Losing is for losers."

"No shit" Chenle hums, sitting up from his previously slumped position, a couple others following as the quiet room begins to grow warmer, laughter echoing off the walls. Conversations follow, like usual pre game protocol, some tactics, some motivation. It doesn't take the room much longer to return to normal. Whatever normal was.

Things would be okay, whether they won or whether they didn't. But losing wasn't exactly one of their options tonight.

Y/n turns to Jaemin again, smiling with more conviction than earlier.

"You know, we make a good team" she looks down for a moment, "even after all that mess"

Jaemin let's his hand rests over her cheek, not specifically worried about who was watching, "Especially after all that mess"

Y/N and Jaemin stood at the centre of the court, the sound of the final buzzer still echoing in their ears. It was over.

The team had fought hard, each possession, each pass, each moment fraught with tension and determination.

The last few minutes of the game had felt like an eternity, with their opponents pressing them to the limit, but it was all over now. Just above, the scoreboard flashing the final score confirmed what they’d worked so tirelessly for—victory.

Jaemin, his chest heaving with each breath, looked over at Y/N. Clear in his eyes, triumph, and an unmasked sense of adoration. Everything he had once been so bitter for, so hurt over, it seemed like a small hurdle to pass, to finally be here today, watching Y/n smile his way with pride. The warmth in her smile, the passion, it was all he wanted to see, now, and for the days to come. This wasn't just winning a game. It was more than just state championships. It was knowing this was exactly where he wanted to be, going through the ups and the downs in life with her. The past seemed so small, so distant now, like all the struggles had never really been. But Jaemin wouldn't forget it, the pain, the heartache, and perhaps he preferred it that way, knowing just how much it took to get to being here, how much it meant. Because to Jaemin, Y/n was worth every struggle in the world.

The sweat on his forehead mixed with the tears that were starting to blur his vision. His eyes, usually full of confidence, were now wide with a slight disbelief and brimmed with joy.

Y/N, equally breathless, met Jaemin’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. The court was alive with celebration, the crowd shouting in exhilaration, but in that instant, it was just the two of them. Alone, like nothing else mattered.

Y/N's heart raced, not just from the adrenaline of the game, but from the raw emotion they had fought through together—every late-night practice, every setback, every moment where doubt had tried to creep in.

As they approached each other, Jaemin couldn’t help but pull Y/N into his arms, his hands pressing against her back as he held her close. “We did it,” he whispered, the words soft but full of meaning. Y/N laughed, the sound light but genuine. “You didn’t doubt us for a second, did you?” Y/N teased, lifting her face to look up at him, her hand gently brushing his cheek.

Jaemin smiled, brushing his lips against Y/N’s forehead, a kiss that was tender, full of everything they had been through and more. “Not when you’re by my side.” The words came out low and steady, carrying a depth that couldn't quite be fully explained. It didn't need to be.

Truly, they were in their own world, up until Jaemin heard his name being called from somewhere behind him, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her.

"Jaemin, don't be a wuss give her a real kiss."

It was jeno shouting from the courtside bench, laughing at the way both of their cheeks flushed bright at his words along with Renjun.

That didn't sound so bad, Jaemin thought.

For a moment, he let his gaze meet Y/n's once again, "That alright with you peach?"

"More than alright."

When Jaemin pressed his lips to hers, soft, tender, and promising, Y/n couldn't help but smile. She hadn't expected to be doing this here, for everyone to see, her lips locked against his,but she didn't mind all that much, not when she was right where she wanted to be.

The arena around them was electric—teammates running to congratulate them, the crowd still roaring with excitement—but in the middle of it all, they found their moment of peace, a quiet connection amid the chaos. They had fought for this victory together, and it was theirs. Their love, their effort, had carried them here—through every tough game, every tough moment, and now, they had this championship to prove it, more importantly they had each other.

“Let’s go celebrate,” Y/N said, her voice soft but dripping with excitement, grabbing Jaemin's wrist.

He shot her a teasing smile, in true Jaemin fashion. “After we have a few more moments to ourselves?”

Y/N felt her heart swell, her cheeks darkening.

"I love you, you know" she chuckles, "I think i could tell you i love you as many times as there are stars in the sky, and it still wouldn't be enough."

"I love you too peach, more than all the stars in the universe combined."

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[drabblesandimagines]

Chocobo

Cloud Strife x female reader, primarily fluff, mentions of blood, cat-calling behaviour, unwanted attention (No Rebirth spoilers!)

You hated Thursdays – extended opening hours as well as a two-for-one special at the sleazy bar where you worked in Wall Market.

It was always a busy, rushed off your feet shift – Shinra middle managers coming down from the plate to take advantage of the deal and, of course, your boss offset the cost by scheduling only two of you on the bar. The more the drinks flowed, the ruder and more demanding the patrons would become, and you always ended the night damp with sweat and beer. Every Thursday, when you trudged back to Sector 7 in the early hours in the morning, was a reminder of how you needed to get a different job, but that’s easier said than done.

Your colleague heads off at 11 with a sympathetic wave – there’s a half hour until final call, but of course everyone gets another round of drinks in before then, so you’re scheduled till just after midnight, slowly but surely clearing the decks and pointing any patrons not ready to give up on their night out towards the Honey Bee Inn.

After completing the reset of the bar a little later than you’d hoped, you finally lock the doors and begin the walk back to Sector 7 at a brisk pace. It’s not a bad walk, really, all things considered – there’s a direct enough route to the main gate – but it doesn’t mean you in any way look forward to it.

There’s a shrill wolf-whistle from behind you and your shoulders tense.

“Hey, good-looking.”

You tuck your chin down and keep on walking. Working in Wall Market, whatever time of day, meant there were catcalls more often that not. You’d learnt that if you don’t reward them with attention, they’ll get bored and leave you alone soon enough – there’s always someone else.

“Oh, too good for me, are you?” This one seems a little more persistent – probably aided by the alcohol running around his veins by the slur in his words.

He jogs around to in front of you and begins walking backwards with a chuckle. You glance up briefly to find he looks absolutely idiotic - sunglasses in the middle of the night, an open denim vest, mohawk, cocky smirk and low leather pants. Your stomach sinks as you recognize him - one of Corneo’s men.

You tuck you chin back down. He’ll find someone else to bother, maybe he’ll even find someone else who’s into his advances? Just don’t engage.

Mohawk doesn’t take kindly to you ignoring him and he moves to your side, matching your pace and absolutely reeking of alcohol. You’re surprised he can even see straight, a little bit impressed he pulled off the walking backwards stunt earlier, or maybe it was just dumb luck.

“Why are you in such a hurry, sweetheart?” Mohawk doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing you with one arm, pulling you close into his chest and wrapping his arm around your neck in a loose headlock.

“There we go.” His breath tickles your ear. “Walk with me, baby. We can get to know one another a little better.”

You think of screaming, maybe if you drew attention he’d decide you’re not worth the effort… but if you’ve recognized him as one of Corneo’s men, others would’ve too and would be unlikely to step in. Don Corneo knows everyone’s secrets around here, too powerful a man to make an enemy of.

“Sorry, I…” You try and duck out of his hold, but he squeezes you tight around the shoulders. “I really need to get home.”

“Oh, got someone waiting?” He forces you left, out of the main thoroughfare towards the gate and home, sending you down a side alley. You know Wall Market well enough that this will loop you back down towards Corneo’s mansion if you kept on the same route.

You also know people who tend to go into Corneo’s mansion don’t come out.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, I’m tired.” The panic is unmistakable in your voice and he laughs, continuing to force you along. “How about some other time? Another night? I need to get some sleep – it was a really long shift.”

“Yeah, I saw you at work earlier, sweetheart.” He grins. “I liked your friend, but when I came back she was already gone. You’re pretty too, though. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

You stomp on his foot then in a moment of pure adrenaline, digging all your weight through your heel and onto his toes. He yells, arm dropping around from your shoulders and you waste no time in sprinting back the alleyway. If you ducked under some of the air vents, maybe you could make it across the way to the Honey Bee Inn - you’re on first name terms with some of the girls, maybe there’s enough Gil in your pocket to buy a drink and find a quiet booth…

A hand grabs your hair and yanks you back so hard you’re surprised a clump isn’t pulled out, your arm twisted behind, before you are swung face first into the wall, spots of black dancing in your vision and a pain exploding in your head at the contact. Tangy blood dribbles down into your mouth and all you can do is whimper as he twists your arm again.

“Oh, you like pain, huh?” He smirks as he yanks your head back further, forcing you to look up at him. You swear you can feel the bones creak in your arm as he continues twisting. “I’ll show you pain, sweetheart. We’ve got all night to spend together after all.”

“No, you don’t.”

There’s a loud metallic clang against the wall further up and Mohawk turns to look, one hand still fisted in your hair. A blonde spikey haired man, dressed in black stands a few metres behind. His eyes are telltale Mako blue, holding an oversized sword with ease aloft, his muscular forearms not even tensing with the weight as he glares at the assailant over your head.

“Piss off, blondie. I saw her first.” He twists your arm again, making you yelp.

The blonde swings the sword around his head a few times, effortlessly, before holding in front of him in a battle-ready stance.

“You lay a hand on her again and I’ll take it clean off of you.”

Mohawk laughs, cockily. “Sure, you w-”

The blonde lunges forward and swipes it cleanly over your captor’s head, slicing off a good chunk of his hair with millimeter precision. Mohawk’s grip on your hair and arm immediately falter and he steps back, now holding his hands aloft as your legs completely give out beneath you, collapsing down on the ground, breathless and heart pounding.

“Okay, o-okay, man! No n-need for v-violence! S-s-she’s all yours.” Mohawk turns on his heel and sprints off in a panic, quickly swallowed up by the darkness of the alley ahead.

“Are you okay?” The stranger sheathes the sword onto his back and steps forward, his face unreadable. You can’t help but flinch as he approaches, unconsciously scooting backwards until your back hits the wall.

“Please – I just…” Your heart is pounding in your ears. “I won’t say anything, I promise.”

The mako-infused eyes widen and he steps back, holding his hands up in an attempt at a friendly gesture. “Easy – I’m not going to hurt you.”

He fiddles with the cuff of his glove for a moment, removing a small green orb, before crouching down in front of you.

“That was a real nasty blow you took. Let me just…” He holds his palm out - a healing materia, allowing him to perform cure, sits in the centre – and he closes his eyes in concentration for a moment before green whisps of light emit and sink into your skin, soothing the throbbing pain in your nose and skull till no ache remains at all. You rub your nose on your arm, tentatively, trying to remove some of the blood but you know it’ll be a job for the bathroom mirror later on.

“Thank you. I, erm…” You hesitate before dipping a hand in your jacket pocket at the same time he replaces the materia in his glove. “I-I don’t have a lot of money on me, but-”

“You think I only did that to earn Gil?” He seems offended.

You flinch at his tone. “N-no. Sorry, just it’s Wall Market, people don’t help each other for nothing. Everyone has an agenda.”

“What do you think mine is?”

 You swallow. “A SOLDIER…”

“Ex-SOLDIER.” He corrects. “Have Shinra troops taken your money before?”

“There… was some rowdy drunks once. Started smashing things in the bar. Some off-duty troopers said they’d remove them, but I had to give them my night’s wages.”

“Shitheads.” He mutters, getting to his feet. “I don’t want your money. I just don’t like entitled assholes.”

“Thank you.” You get up to your feet, a palm on the wall to steady you, before offering your hand and name.

He takes it in a firm grip, shaking it lightly. “Cloud Strife.”

“I’d say pleasure to meet you, but maybe not in these circumstances.” You force a laugh, but it’s too breathy, but you don’t want to cry. You know he felt your hand trembling when he’d accepted the handshake, adrenaline still coursing its way through your veins - that was the worst encounter you’d ever had in Wall Market. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” Cloud pauses for a moment, considering his next sentence. “You were on your way home?”

“I was trying, yeah.”

“Do you live far?”

“Sector 7 slums.”  

“I’m heading that way too - live in Stargazer Heights.” He grabs one arm with the other, looking a little awkward. “Marle’s the landlady.” You know Marle – she’s often sat on her porch outside the apartment block in the day, saying hello to all that pass. “We could walk together.”

“That…” You stick your trembling hands in your jacket pockets, hoping that might get them to stop. “That would be nice, actually. If you don’t mind.”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “Lead the way,”

You nod, taking a cautious step forward, then another. Cloud keeps a respectable distance as you walk out of the alley in silence. The street is completely dead now as you head towards the main gate, but you’re grateful to have the mercenary to your side.

“What brought you to Wall Market tonight, then?” He doesn’t seem drunk, which is the usual draw.

“Colosseum - making some Gil on the fights. You were working?”

“Mm. Thursdays are tough.”

“Money too good to quit?”

“Probably don’t need to tell you how difficult it is to get a job at the moment, so it’s hard to let it go. It’s work there or risk being evicted.” You pause, pre-empting what he might say. “I know I should quit, then I wouldn’t have to deal with creeps like that guy…”

“That creep should’ve taken no for an answer.” Cloud replies, deadpan.

“In an ideal world, sure.” Your stupid hands are still shaking, but it’s travelled up your arms now, making your shoulders shudder.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” He takes a step ahead of you to get a better look, still mindful to keep a respectful distance.

“Yeah.” You don’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“You don’t have to pretend - probably still processing what happened. Why don’t you sit for a moment?” You haven’t even made it that far outside of Wall Market – just outside Sam’s Delivery Service – the proprietor is nowhere to be seen but a chocobo kwehs softly in its paddock and there’s a few benches dotted around outside, intended to be used by patrons.

“Erm… Okay. Just for a minute.” The tremble has made it to your legs, almost like pins and needles. You sit down heavily on the bench and exhale, slowly, digging your nails into your palms. Cloud remains standing to the side, awkwardly. “You can sit too.”

“You sure?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Please.” It would feel better if he sat down rather than hovering over you. He slides the sword off his back and leans it against the side of the bench, before taking a seat. His legs brushes against yours ever so slightly as he sits and you flinch back at the same time as he does.

“Sorry.” The two of you chorus.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Neither do you.”

“True.” He murmurs.

You sit in silence for five minutes, your legs gradually getting more and more jittery, your heels starting to bounce against the dirt under your feet and an unwanted burning sensation at your eyes as you reflect upon the evening’s events, what would’ve happened if Cloud hadn’t have…

You swallow around the lump that has developed in your throat. For Shiva’s sake, you admonish yourself, don’t cry now in front of this random man. You’re safe, you’re fine, you’re not even injured anym-

“Hey, do you think my hair looks like a chocobo?” The question comes so far out of left-field your mind stops at once from its spiral.

“What?” You look over at him, convinced you haven’t heard him right.

“My hair – does it remind you of a chocobo? Whenever this guy wants to annoy me, he calls me chocobo head.” He’s patting his locks, the blonde spikes flattening under his touch. The way he’s sitting, you can see the real-life chocobo just over his shoulder and seeing them side-by-side makes you smile, poorly concealing a laugh as the two tilt their heads perfectly in sync.

“You agree?”

“No…” You bite your lip.

“You’re not a great liar.”

“I’m sorry, just…” You point to over his shoulder and the merc turns his head. “I would’ve said no and meant it, but I can see a little bit of a comparison when you’re next to one another.”

“Huh.” He turns back, crossing his arms. “Suppose there’s worst things to be compared too.”

“Mm,” you nod. “Like, a cactaur, for example.”

“You haven’t seen me dance.”

You laugh then – a proper belly laugh at the idea of this stoic ex-SOLDIER pulling out the same moves as a cactaur. Your emotions have been on a rollercoaster for the last hour or so and it’s not surprising when a few tears fall.

Cloud looks awkward, reaching out for you with a hand before retreating it just as fast. “Sorry, I-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You sniff, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. “Happy tears – the image is great. Thank you – I needed that.”

He smiles for fleeting moment before it drops with a shrug of the shoulders. “Don’t mention it.”

You dry your hands off on your thighs before getting up to your feet – conscious of the time. “I think I’m good to go now.”

“Cool.” Cloud stands up, placing his hands on his hips. “Let’s mosey.”

You laugh again and a hint of a smile graces the blonde’s face once more.

The walk back is non-eventful, thankfully, accomplished in both bouts of companionable silence as well as idle chitchat. Cloud had offered you the choice to part ways at the gate of the slums, but you’d shyly asked if he could walk you all the way to your door.

"Thank you for everything,” you say, mindful of your volume given the late hour, “I’m really glad you were at the colosseum tonight.”

“Speaking of…” Cloud raises his arm to rub the back of his head, focusing his gaze on the gutter running above your door like it's the most interesting thing on the planet. “I, er, might do some more fights at the colosseum on other nights, you know? I could walk you back after. If you want.”

Your stomach flips at the offer. “That’s really sweet of you, but I only work the closing shift on a Thursday. I do afternoon shifts the rest of the week – gets me out of Wall Market before it gets too rowdy.”

“Oh.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment before they return to the gutter. “Well, Thursdays I always do - pay-out's higher.”

“If you're sure. I mean, I don't want you going out of your way or anything.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Cloud lies. “I’d be walking that way anyhow, so we might as well walk together.”

“Okay. How about if you do find yourself nearby next Thursday around midnight, you’ll know where I’ll be and we’ll take it from there?”

“Deal.” He steps back and lifts his arm to give an awkward wave. “Night.”

You smile and give a small wave back. “Goodnight, Cloud.”

--

Thursday rolls around both slowly in the hope of seeing Cloud again – and you’d be a lying if you denied not having walked past Stargazer Heights throughout the past week in the hopes of bumping into him - but too fast in the way of having to deal with another night of rowdy patrons.

You’ve just locked the doors and turned to head home when you see the blonde merc the other side of the street, arms crossed, leaning up against a wall. When your eyes meet, he gives the same awkward wave he’d bid you goodbye with a week ago and walks over.

“You came.” You sound a bit more surprised than you intended.

He shrugs before he crosses his arms. “Well, I was in the area, so…”

“Lucky me. How’d the fights go?”

“Fights?” He raises his eyebrow and you bite back a smile at his slip-up. Gotcha.

“You know, at the colosseum...?”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine.” You swear you see a hint of pink across Cloud’s cheeks as he mumbles his response. “Won ‘em all.”

“Congratulations. Never had any doubt.” You turn away from him briefly to kick on the bottom of the door and push the handle down for good measure. “Okay. I’m ready to go, if you are.”

“Er, what was that?”

“It’s just a little thing to help me remember that I’ve locked the door. Nothing like getting halfway home and turning back in a panic…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve really done that.”

“I told you, I really need this job – won’t have it if I leave the bar unlocked.”

“You…” He shakes off a retort. “Forget it. Shall we?” He jerks his chin in the direction of the gate and you nod, the two of you setting off at an easy pace. “How was your night anyway? Any dickheads?”

“Not tonight.”

“Good.”

You turn out of Wall Market and walk again in silence as you pass Sam’s Delivery’s Service, one of the ranch-hands settling down a chocobo in their paddock.

“You know,” you start, scuffing your foot on the ground, “I thought I might bump into you earlier this week. The slums aren’t that big.”

“Oh. Been busy – picking up odd jobs.” He keeps his gaze ahead as he walks, scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. “Takes me all over Midgar, really.”

“Do you like it?”

He shrugs. “Earns me gil.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Depends on the job, I guess. Some more than others.”

“Okay, well, what would you do if you could do anything you wanted?”

“Dunno.”

“Come on,” you hurry a few steps in front of him to catch his eye, walking backwards, “that’s no fun. You said you left Shinra, so that must’ve been for a reason.”

He quickens his pace to walk alongside you, taking your arm and gently coaxing you back around. “Stop it - you’ll hurt yourself.” “Don’t use my safety as an excuse to ignore my question.” You chide, but take advantage by slipping your arm through the crook of his elbow.

“Just didn’t want to be under their thumb any longer. What do you want to do?”

“Get out from under the plate, see the world.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Costs too much gil. Have you seen the prices they’re advertising for a bus ride to Kalm when the expressway is finished?”

“Not just walk?”

You shake your head. “I can’t even walk home on my own without getting in trouble anymore, how am I going to walk to Kalm with all those fiends about? Plus, even if I got there in one piece, there’s all the other logistics – like where would I stay, how would I make a living?”

“Hm.”

“I don’t know – perhaps the world might just be too big for a slum-dweller like me.”

He frowns. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re much more than that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

There’s the shrug he’s so fond of. “Call it a SOLDIER’s intuition.”  

You keep your arm linked in his the whole way home until he’s escorted you back to your door once again and you reluctantly part.

“So, fighting again on Thursday?”

“I plan to. Working?”

“I plan to.” You tease back. “Thank you again, Cloud.”

You step forward and press a kiss on his cheek, then hurry inside before he can reply or even react. As you peek through a gap in the curtains, you see the merc stood still – a gloved hand hovering over the spot where you kissed.

--

“Ma’am?” You tense at the unfamiliar voice as you twist the key in the lock, preparing yourself to dash back into the bar and barricade the door behind you until morning, but it’s only one of the Sam’s ranch-hands – you’d seen him a few times when you passed - and your shoulders relax. Sam’s proud and ferociously protective of his business - he doesn’t want any trouble at his door so he’s scrupulous with those he hires.

“Hi.”

“Howdy,” the ranch-hand tips his hat, full of country charm. “I’ve been tasked with the delivery of a note for you.” He holds it out – folded over – and you take it, murmuring a thank you.

I’m sorry that I can’t walk you home tonight – something came up. A real chocobo should make quite a suitable replacement for me. Cloud.

“Chocobo?” You look up at the ranch-hand for confirmation.

“Ride’s already paid for, ma’am. Ready to go when you are.”

“Oh, no, I… I couldn’t accept this.”

“Mr Strife thought that might be the case. He stressed that I tell you that we offer no refunds, and he’s already tipped us to come pick you up from here and escort you back to the chocobo stop. He’d be mighty obliged if you’d accept.” You don’t picture Cloud saying that last part exactly, so it must be the ranch-hand adding in his own flavour.

“No refunds, huh?”

“No refunds.” He nods in confirmation.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” You turn back to the bar door, twist the keys in the lock, kick the bottom of the door and tug on the handle. “Let’s go.”

--

“Afternoon, Marle.” You smile brightly at the landlady of Stargazer Heights the next day, bouncing up and down on your heels in an attempt to conceal your nerves. You’d never been home as early as you had last night, the chocobo ride almost over before you knew it at the speed the carriage had gone down the path. The ranch-hand had accompanied you to your door, again at Mr Strife’s instructions. You’d wondered if the giant sword Cloud had strapped to his back might’ve contributed to how determined he was to follow them to the letter.

“Afternoon. Do you come bearing gifts?”

“Mm, depends,” you move the wicker basket from one hand to another, the contents hidden by a scrap of cloth. “I was wondering, do you have a Cloud Strife in the building?”

“Oh…” She smiles, knowingly, leaning forward over the banister. “Are you the one that keeps him out all hours?”

Your cheeks burn at her comment. “N-no! I mean, he walks me home on a Thursday, but that’s it.”

“That’s what I mean. I saw him hurrying off last Thursday shy of 11. Yesterday he was in a right flap, wouldn’t stop to talk – said he had to get to Wall Market and back before going out again.”

Your scalp tingles and you can’t help the dopey smile at the thought of him rushing to book the chocobo ride for you the day before. “So, he does live here?”

“Mm.” She nods. “Room 2. And he’s in.”

You head up the flight of stairs to the side of the building and walk along to the room in question, pausing a moment before mustering up the courage to knock on the door, your heart now beginning to pound. This had seemed a good idea last night but now it’s come to the execution…

The door opens, revealing a yawning Cloud, hair more mussed up than usual but dressed in his usual attire, sans his gloves and the sword on his back. The mako-blue eyes widen at the sight of you, an unconscious hand coming up to pat down his locks.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I’m so sorry to wake you-”

“No, I was just about to get up anyway - late night. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you smile at his concern. “The chocobo ride was really sweet, but you really didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

“I can’t afford to pay you back-”

“I don’t want you to.” He cuts across. “It was… selfish, really, I just wanted to know you’d get home okay. Did they take you the whole way back?”

“He did – properly earned however much you paid extra.”

“Good.” He nods. “A… job came up, I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” you fib. “But it was still very sweet, so I wanted to repay you somehow, and I came up with two things.”

“I told you, you don’t have to-”

You stand up on your tip-toes and kiss him square on the lips, short and sweet, before stepping back, grinning at the dumbstruck look on the blonde’s face.

“That was the first.” You hold the basket aloft, “Take a look under the cloth for the second.”

Cloud’s cheeks are flushed, his mind trying to catch up with what had just happened, but he lifts the cloth as instructed to reveal a solitary gysahl green.

“Thought my favourite chocobo deserved their favourite snack too.” You can’t help the tease and Cloud shakes his head with a lovesick grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you forward against him, the basket dropping from your grip in surprise. He cups your cheek with a hand before he crashes his lips into yours again with enthusiasm, only pulling back when he was sure he’d stolen enough of your breath.

“Think I preferred the first.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

PS - I just could not resist this nod to the OG:

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! I saw your Percy Jackson asks where open and I wanted to send in a request! How would Percy react to a fem reader who is the child of Morpheus the God of dreams? Like I imagine being a child to the God of dreams would make one fall asleep randomly when they are still new to their powers, so how would the scenario play out if perhaps one day reader falls asleep on him during a movie night? Would he stay as still as possible as to not wake her up or would he do something else like gently wake her up/move her? Hopefully I made this detatiled enough but in anyway thank you!!

You were just halfway from dozing off when Percy’s voice brought you from the cusp of a deep sleep to ask:

‘Does your dad look like-‘

‘For the last time Percy no, my dad doesn’t look like Tom Sturridge from The Sandman.’ You replied before he could even finish his question. It wasn’t the first time he asked this question after watching the Netflix show ironically about a man who bore the same name as your godly father, Morpheus, the god of dreams; Something that you now had a bone to pick with Neil Gaiman over.

‘Sooo he doesn’t blow golden sand at people’s faces to make them fall asleep?’ Percy continued to ask but at this point you knew that he was only doing this just to get a rise out of you and also to keep you from falling asleep again.

‘No-will you pack it in, in trying to get some rest from today.’ You said as you lightly smack his arm whilst readjusting your head onto his shoulder for more comfort, already feeling the lull of sleep beckoning you to fall further when Percy once again spoke up.

‘But you already do enough sleeping as it is!’ He cried but tried his hardest not to move too much in fear of agitating you, knowing firsthand how much you hated your sleep being disrupted. ‘And I can’t help that!’ You exclaimed. ‘I’ve been falling asleep at random ever since Morpheus claimed me as his own. It’s almost as though I’ve suddenly developed narcolepsy or something.’ You were still getting use to your powers that for some reason would backfire now and then, causing you to have bouts of almost narcoleptic episodes where you could just be talking to someone then boom; there you were, fast asleep in the strawberry fields or on the sandy dunes of the lake as though it were the most comfortable place known to man.

It worried to everyone to begin with but upon being claimed, it started to make a lot more sense that whenever you did spontaneously fall asleep, it was easier to be accommodated for; letting you sleep because you were mad cranky when woken prematurely. Connor and Travis learnt that the hard way when for an entire week their dreams consisted of being chased by a very angry humanoid goose, as if being chased by a regular goose wasn’t scary enough. Just one of the few perks of being the child of the god who could morph dreams and enter them however he saw fit.

The subject of your tendency to fall asleep at random was soon dropped entirely as you and Percy went back to watching the movie that was already well within it’s third and final act. Well Percy was, you on the other hand…were fast asleep on his shoulder, uncaring of the crook in the neck that you were surly developing from your uncomfortable position. Percy doesn’t notice until he goes to look at you to make a joke on a certain scene but stopped and the words died on his lips as he stared at you adoringly. ‘Why am I not surprised that you’ve fell asleep. Again.’ He says softly to himself as he watched how your grip on his arm would occasionally tighten as though your dream had taken a tonal shift, only to loosen up and relax not a moment after.

Not that I needed my arm or my shoulder anyways. Percy thought to himself as he tried his absolute hardest to stay still for your benefit but he might as well have asked Medusa to make him into stone instead because he was doing such a shit job at not moving at all. It was almost as if all his limbs had minds of their own as they’d move or his fingers would tap against his thigh impatiently as the movie ended and the credits began to appear on screen; With the remote too far for him to reach without waking you up and nothing else to occupy his restless mind, Percy felt as though he was in his own personal hell and heaven, or fields of punishment and Elysium.

For one, he got to admire you as you slept, completely at peace and safe within his presence as you would oftentimes shuffle further into him, making noises of discontent when you thought you felt him move away and tightening your grip; Something he found undeniably adorable as he watched the twitches in your face and tries to guess what kind of dream you were having based off them. Secondly he desperately wanted to move, his brain was telling him to move, but Percy would rather not risk having an angry human sized goose chasing him in his dreams for the next week because he accidentally woke you prematurely from your nap. He knows you wouldn’t do that but in cases like these, it he’d know it be better to be safe and sure then expect special treatment; which upon retrospect sounded a lot worse then getting chased by a human sized goose.

So Percy allows himself the fate of being your makeshift pillow, though not before pressing a kiss to your head, wishing you the sweetest of dreams before inevitably falling asleep himself as he rested his head atop of yours, crook in his neck be damned.

[champagnefountains]

I have a request if they're still open.

Alastor decides to hire Reader as a radio intern. He first did it for entertainment, sending them out to do ridiculously hard and long tasks for his own amusement, like fetching him coffee from the other side of Hell in a super short period of time or proof reading scripts that he purposely made completely illegible to anyone but himself, but had slowly begun to fall for them the longer they stuck around.

ALASTOR - H.H.

Prompt: Being Alastor's radio intern.

Thank you for your request anon! I hope you'll enjoy this one!

Word count: 1.5k+ words. Genre/other tags: Fluff. Humour. Warnings: None.

You were unfortunate to have your soul be owned by the renowned Radio-Demon. Tough luck. You were merely a desperate soul who needed a major favour to be done by yours truly, and are now forever tied and forced to do his bidding. You initially expected a life-time of torture and pain, but was pleasantly surprised when he had requested for you to be his personal radio-intern-slash-assistant.

"Dear Charlie and I have been so, so busy and I just need an extra hand is all...and that's where you come in!" He chimed, pinching your cheek. Alastor explained that he needed someone to assist in managing his radio-broadcasts and schedules while he was out playing hotelier. And just as you thought that you were off the hook, it turns out that this had been his own, little way of torturing you.

Alastor made you do the most ridiculous and tedious tasks ever – like fetching a cup of coffee from a cafe situating on the other side of Hell, or obtain some weird, obscure item from sketchy shops in the most dangerous and chaotic districts in all the Nine Circles, only for it to have little to no significance to him at all. Of course, you did some actual radio-intern-related tasks, but it didn't make things any easier for you. More so than often, Alastor would give you a stack-pile of his broadcast scripts to proof-read. The only problem was that all of it was mostly illegible, almost appearing like chicken scratch. It was then that you knew for certain he was doing this as some sort of sick entertainment for himself, knowing that he had the neatest penmanship amongst the entire team. Oh, and don't even get started with the ridiculous deadlines!

All in all, Alastor was constantly giving you a hard time. However, you were determined to not let him continue to walk all over you. After some time, you were slowly getting used to his strange requests and behaviours, and managed to find ways to work around them. Oh, he wanted his oddly specific order of coffee? You already had it ordered beforehand, and even had the beans supplied to have it readily brewed in the Hotel. He asked for some random-ass antique item? You had already established some connections during your previous commutes, and will have it delivered on the doorstep the next day. You needed to proof-read his scripts? You've learnt to decipher his hieroglyphics and were able to get them done hours before its deadline, whilst also adding in a few of your own critiques and comments.

Already a couple months in the job and you've already got it in the bag. And if he was being honest, Alastor was surprised with your progress. Dare say that he was even impressed! It was like no matter what he had thrown your way, you were able to catch it with ease. Yes, he had to admit: he did initially hire you for his own entertainment – you were his little play-thing when boredom struck – but you had proved yourself as an important asset and massive help towards him and the Hotel. You even went out of your way to help with tasks in the Hotel, such as tending the front desk with Cherri, assisting in the kitchen with Nifty, and even managing some group activities alongside Charlie and Vaggie.

You were incredibly hard-working, selfless and compassionate. Alastor and everyone in the Hotel could see it. It initially ticked Alastor off, seeing that his plans were foiled and were tailored to your favour, but the more you stuck around and spent time with himself and everyone else, he genuinely began enjoying your company. And vice versa. When he wasn't being the overbearing and unreasonable boss that he can be, you actually found yourself having fun in Alastor's presence, now often chuckling at his jokes and schemes.

But that wasn't the only thing that changed.

Alastor came to a stark realisation that he had developed feelings for you. It was a foreign feeling to him, which initially confused him at first but it filled him with such warmth that his cold-heart craved for. He found himself seeking your presence constantly (more than usual, that is), always making an effort to talk to you (again, more than usual), and at times, forcing you to stay in his office while he worked on his scripts, and even have you sit through his broadcasts. Even if it wasn't obvious, Alastor's feelings were overwhelming him with each passing day – he didn't know how to go about it. 

So Alastor resorted to what he does with most things – in straight-forward and curt fashion, of course. 

"S-Sir, you...y-you want me to do what?" You stuttered, a rapid and violent blush suddenly taking over your face. "I said, I want you to go out with me!" Alastor repeated nonchalantly, all the while jokingly tapping a finger on his microphone, "hello, hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing!" You couldn't help but gawk at the deer-demon and his bluntness. He had summoned you to his office out-of-the-blue, requesting your presence urgently in the midst of an activity session you were co-hosting with Vaggie. With the way he went about it, you would've thought that there was some sort of emergency. Not...well, not this.

"...Go out with you? Like...on a walk, or something?" You slowly reiterated, trying to get a grasp on what he was trying to say. Alastor hums to himself, tapping his chin in thought. "Well, if that's what you prefer to do on our date, then I suppose that would be quite swell! We can fit that right in once we've had our dinner," He nods after a brief moment’s contemplation. It nearly sent your eyes popping out of its sockets. "Woah, woah! A-A date?! You mean, a date?! With–with me?!" You exclaimed, pointing to yourself in disbelief. The Overlord rose a brow.

"Why, of course! You're the only one in the room that I'm currently talking to, dear! Oh, hoh, you're quite silly, aren't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "B-But...don't you think this is like–I don't know, a bit unprofessional, sir?" You timidly ask, picking at your fingers, "you are my boss, after all..."

Alastor tilted his head to the side, humming, "Hm, perhaps. But I believe we’ve already crossed that boundary long ago, don’t you think? We’ve treated each other like good, ol’ comrades rather than just co-workers these past few months, have we not?” You blink. “I…I guess we have,” you blankly affirm.  

“Right? So, with that being said, I can't help but want something more. I do wish to properly court you. After all, it's not everyday a mortal soul such as yourself could pique my interest. That means to say that you’re quite exceptional, dear!” You couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at the flattery, shaking your head, “w-well, I don’t know about that–” 

“Oh, none of that nonsense!” He suddenly swoops in, waving a hand and shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has managed to keep up at my level the way you have. It’s very impressive and admirable – take my word for it!” 

Alastor then suddenly evades your personal space, leaning down to eye-to-eye level with you. It startles you momentarily but you decidedly maintain eye-contact with him, too nervous to look away. It causes his grin to widen. "And I can bravely assume that you wouldn't mind taking up my offer...as you haven't yet made any effort or comment to decline it, hm?" He smartly comments, looking at you expectedly. 

Well..damn, he got you there, didn’t he? Because in truth, you did enjoy the playful dynamic you've established with him. You found satisfaction in the little praises and smiles Alastor would send your way whenever you accomplished something and slowly, you found yourself valuing his opinion of you. You then tried to up yourself with each passing day, and it was just as shocking for you when you came to terms with your own feelings. 

And that’s how you found yourself being courted by the Radio-Demon himself. 

After that, nothing much had changed in your dynamic with Alastor – you still continued being his radio-assistant. Well, other than the fact that he had become more openly sweet towards you. This meant calling you a variety of pet-names and giving you a little less work for you when he knows you’ve worked yourself hard enough. Small pecks and kisses will be rewarded when you would hand him his cup of coffee every morning, and he would invite you to join and sit on his lap when he would do his frequent broadcasts. He would also teasingly ask you to call him ‘sir’, knowing that it’ll fluster you so much – he just loved and enjoyed seeing you turn red all over. He even stopped with his hieroglyphics, reverting back to his usual handwriting when writing his scripts – the joke’s gone a bit stale, he says. And at the end of a long, tiring day, Alastor would have you in his arms as you happily basked in each other’s company.

[dianagj-art]

You might’ve said before. But what animation software do you use? And what do you refer to use?

But also sorry, for a beginner what one would you say would be easier and simpler to use? I love seeing your animations you make everything down nicely

It depends on what I want to do

for the comics most of the time I just use photoshop, tho i wouldnt really recomend it 😅 is not that much intuitive but it gets the work done for what I need on the comic and is what I normally use to draw so it's easy for me

when the comic has more complicated animation and I need a more normal looking timeline, I move either to krita or lately to clip studio

for example the animation of One rising and the kick were done in krita

Krita is a free drawing software, I almost never use it now, but I do highly recomend it, specially if you are starting out either on drawing or animation, I did my whole tesis in there

I've been trying to move more to clip studio, is a very complete program for drawing, comics and animation, tho is not free, it is on the cheaper side. A lot of my friends use it, and I got a friend who is doing the intro for her show completely there (except post production stuff)

I still dont feel 100% confident on it but is mostly because I'm just so used to working on photoshop and im still going on a learning curve with csp

Clips studio is what I used for these crossover animatics [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] and is also what I'm using for an original comic I'm working on that is also a mix of comic and animation

Then there's my absolut beloved: Toom Boom Harmony, I started using it while I was doing studio work and fell in love with it imediately, I learnt to use it very quickly, is very intuitive and the parts that are not you can find tutorials about it very easly. I think it was the first program that made me like use vectors to draw

it is a very expensive program, so I only kept it for a few months after I stoped working on the studio (mostly cause I wasnt using it as much as I would want to for the amount I was being charged montly)

but thats the program I used to animate quite a lot of crossovers nonesense:

This early Council crossover animatics [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] This 2al crossover animatics [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] These fanarts of other peoples' aus [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] This crossover comic page:

and while I do heavily recomend it as an animation program, I wouldn't if you are just starting out cause is very expensive, so might want to strat trying your hand at it with krita or clip studio

all these programs have a lot of tutorial videos on yt for bigginers, so you might want to go ahead and watch a few to see what looks like is gonna fit to what you wanna do

[gamarancianne]

Azriel x reader - In Between part 2

Part 1

Summary: trying to regain your confidence after your broken heart, you met someone in the same position as you and developped one of the best friendships you had ever had. A genuine and sincere friendship. But this person may be closer by other ways to you than you thought.

Warnings: still angst, alcohol in a not healthy way, heartbreak again, hypocrite Elain (kinda slander ig), Lucien being the best.

Note: well maybe a part 3 ig 😅, I was really inspired tbh. Thank you all for having loved the part 1 and shared it with me ! Ily 💗💗 and don't hesitate to ask me something or chat with me in my inbox or dm, or in the comments !

You had been a crying mess for two weeks now, sometimes you went out in a bar to drink so much you would forget even your name. That was the point, forget the constant sting in your heart and you head. Forget him, his beautiful Hazel eyes and inked tattoos on his broad and golden chest. And here we go again: the tears flooded themselves on your face. It was a day to drink today, or tonight, you didn't really have a time notion for the past two weeks: waking up at dawn or dusk, eating, crying and sleeping. You had to forget about all those beautiful things about him, you had to empty your brain and heart. You didn't want to feel something again.

As you were walking to the nearest bar, you thought about those letters elain had sent you, saying you were her dearest friend and asking if your confession went well. You knew she knew that it was you in her apartment that cursed day, but she still pretended and even was saying the complete opposite of what she had said to azriel, falsely comforting you. Was she ever was your friend at this point ? Or has she always criticised and stabbed you behind you back ? Anyway you had decided that it was way better for you to ignore her and keep living your life, if you could still call what you were living a life, without her.

You didn't even noticed when you had arrived in front the door of the bar, but you did and entered, going directly to your now favorite spit in front of the barman : the alcohol was there easier to get. You didn't see then, the redhead man who was at the exact place you had been the few days prior. How dare he steal your chair like that ? Approaching slowly you stilled and you understood that this man was surely in the same situation as you, a heartbreak, seeing his bent frame and the many empty glasses in front of him. They could only have been his because no one was seated near him, and everyone was judging him. They were all avoiding the poor man whose name you didn't know.

"I was almost mad at you for stealing my favourite seat" you stated, seating next to him as his head shot to your side wondering if you were really talking to him.

"Yes I'm talking to you"

"Ah, I'm sorry for your seat do you want it back ?" He asked, genuinely embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

"No I'm fine here, I can speak with you ...?" You asked ?

"Lucien".

"I'm yn, and as I was saying, I can speak with you here Lucien" he nodded.

"Nice to meet you yn, but you don't wanna talk to me, don't you see all the glares everyone sends me here ?" He drank in a one shot what seemed to be whisky and stared again at his now empty glass.

"Oh gods you men !" He looked at you confused "I know what I'm doing fuck ! I'm a grown up woman and I can make my own choices ! You re the second on in two weeks who tells me what I want or not." You snapped.

"Oh I'm sorry, then stay if you want." He apologized quickly.

You asked shots to the barman and stayed silent a bit nefore you both asked in one voice "what are you here for ?". You two chuckled a bit before you said "you first".

"Well I've kinda learnt that my mate, who knows that she is my mate is dating someone else. And I feel like I'm not allowed to have just once an ounce of happiness." You were hurt for him as you heard his story that he told you with a careless demeanor. He must really be at his lowest.

"Ouch that hurts, I'm sorry man. She's a fool if you want my opinion." He smiled sadly at your answer and pointed you from his chin asking you silently your story.

"Well im heartbroken as well, my best friend encouraged me confessing to the man I love, but he rejected me, and not in a nice way. But as lucky as I am, I learnt that he is dating my best friend who is a back stabber." I emptied my glass in one drink.

"Ouch that hurts too, I'm sorry." He said echoing my words.

We spent the night drinking, and drowning ourselves in alcohol but in a more joyful way than usually.

I then went more and more at the bar to see him, but we drank less and less, leaving place to real conversations between us. It became quickly a routine, and Lucien became one of my best friends, well my only friend of the time actually. And I was one of his only friend as well. Two broken hearts healing parts of eachothzr then didn't even break. Lucien had explained to me his family problem, and how his former male best friend was a toxic man in relationships, how he had been poorly treated in his biological family, and how his actual best friend was his mate's sister so he didn't know how to approach her anymore. He came a lot in my appartment to spend time with me, he even slept in sometimes, because he couldn't face his current family. He practically had his room in your home, some of his stuff never really left.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After 2 knocks on your door you unwillingly got off your couch and opened it letting a wild and out of breath Lucien appear in front of it.

"Lu ? Are you okay ?" That was his new nickname, he loved it, because he felt like he was loved for once in his life.

"Yes.. no ? I need you to come with me like right now ! "

"Oh okay let me get me keys and I'm coming" you trusted Lucien too much to ever doubt about him, if he needed you then you were there for him.

You left your apartment and went to the direction he indicated. After a while you panicked a little, seeing that you were going to the high lord's house.

"Lucien you know I love you but where are we going?"

"To a family dinner, I can't go alone. See, my mate's relationship got complicated and she always complains to me when I'm alone, which is all the time. So I feel like I'm just a plan b and I'm really uncomfortable when she does it. Don't worry I've told them that someone was going with me."

"I understand Lu, but at the high lord's ?" You asked sceptical.

"Well yes, because my best friend I told you about is Feyre."

"What ?" Lucien, had never told the names of his family members, and you neither, so discovering that his friend was you high lady so that you were going to see Azriel made you weak to the bones.

"Lucien ? Your mate is Elain ??"

"What, yes ? How do you know ??" He exclaimed as he stopped on his tracks.

"She is the fake friend I told you about !" You answered on the same tone.

"So it means that.."

"I am in love with Azriel... yes."

"Oh gods" you both sighed.

"Hum yn ?" He asked unsure of what to say.

"Mmh"

"Have I told you that Cassian and him were the ones to get us to the house?"

"No, no, no. Please no ! But what would we even need to be picked up ?"

"We can't winnow so it's either that or climb 10 000 stairs".

Both fearing the fast approaching dinner, the last part of the walk was silent and the air heavy with tension. You held your breath when you saw two winged big figures, Cassian and Azriel. The first one shot his head in your direction and smiled confused.

"Yn ?" Azriel stiffened as he heard your name. "What does owe us the pleasure to see you ?"

"I'm the one to go with Lu today but I didn't know it was with you...". Azriel froze completely still turning his back to you. He wasn't sure it was you but now it was certain and he couldn't face you after the mean things he had said to your face. He hadn't talked about it to anyone except Elain and he kinda regretted it now. Things had got complicated between them because after your love confession she had grown so much jealous! He couldn't bear it anymore, he was a free man, he hadn't wings for nothing! They would argue a lot more and he hated that because it triggered bad memories in him. Plus he felt a bit bad about you. You hadn't done anything to him to deserve to be treated that way, he was ashamed of his actions because he knew that, as insecure as you seemed to be, you might have been spiralling since. That wasn't him, that wasn't how he was supposed to be. When he got Elain, she changed him a lot, and he wasn't sure anymore that it was for the good. She crushed all of his efforts to keep the bad parts of him inside. He was meaner, colder, he wasn't himself. Rhys have scolded him a little about that and he had really reacted in a bad way. An evidence of what Rhys had advanced. Azriel was sure he had made you feel bad, and he didn't want it : you were a nice and smart female, a little clumsy but still beautiful and lovely. As he finally turned to you, all of his regret splashed on him when crossing your look and seeing you pained eyes. You quickly put your head down and he felt even more bad to have made lose enough confidence for you to fear to hold his gaze. Thinking about it, he didn't understand you insecurity of the beginning, before the altercation. How could you, a very beautiful female, ever doubt about yourself ?

Realisation hit him, that he would have to take you flying because it would be awkward if he took Lucien, his girlfriend's mate. He knew she was complaining to him, and he felt even sorry for the poor Lucien. But a question lingered in his mind: how did you two know eachother ? And why the fuck would Lucien bring you to a family dinner ? Were you dating ? Fear crossed his eyes for a second before regaining his composure. You couldn't be dating Lucien, it was impossible, you had just said two weeks ago that you loved him. Could you have moved that fast ? It frightened him, knowing that he had grown to like you when thinking of your shared moments at training, where you two had laughed, sometimes until crying joy tears, and regretting the mean rejection he had given you in return of something so intimate and innocent as your love and devotion for him. Damn him he had even insulted you ! He cursed himself more and more until he got out of his head when Cassian called him.

"Azriel wake up ! You take yn." He said when shooting in the sky Lucien in his arms.

You both stayed in an awkward bubble, without moving an inch, avoiding the gaze of one another, for 30 long seconds that felt like hours.

"I'm sorry" and "so how are you doing" came at the same time from him side you. You awkwardly chuckled but he stayed still so you stopped finally having the guts to look at him in the eye for more than a millisecond.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, louder this time. You froze. You didn't want that to happen. You didn't want him to face you abut what happened. It would made it real, and you still hadn't enough courage for that.

"What for ?" You asked, your voice breaking.

"You what for".

You hesitated a lot before responding. "No actually I don't. Was it for mean rejecting me without an ounce of regret or nicenessin your words ? Or maybe the fact that you destroyed my confidence? Oh no ! I know, it was for the time you mocked me in front of my friend, who is in fact your girlfriend, and a fake friend!"

"You weren't supposed to be there that time." He said, suddenly finding the floor really interesting.

"Maybe but I was, so it's the same result and the same mean words that came out of your mouth."

He knew you were right. You were completely allowed to be mad at him for the way he treated you. But it was still hard. Azriel had never been in proper relationships nor had he ever been confessed to. It wasn't a proper excuse but it still made it hard to accommodate to those things for a boy deprived of love for all his life. He didn't know how to react, so to him, the better solution was to stay silent. You sighed, disappointed and he came awkwardly closer to you to hold you and shoot in the sky, following Cassian and Lucien, long arrived and waiting for you worried (especially Lucien).

Elain was waiting for Azriel, or Lucien, no one knew, on the balcony of the House of Wind and almost fell when she saw you. You in Azriel's arms, accompanying Lucien. Azriel struggled to let you go, especially after your conversation, but the second you were out of his hold, Elain held you in a crushing hug. You rapidly got out as well, feeling uncomfortable after her hypocrisy. You gave her a sad smile and Lucien introduced you to Feyre and Rhysand who had already told you to call them by their name, and to Mor and Amren. They all welcomed you warmly except Elain and Azriel of course who both looked like ashamed puppies with their tails between their legs.

After dinner, everyone went out in the garden for a tea and you found yourself on a couch behind Lucien sat on the floor. Automatically, because it was something you were now used to do, your hands found his head and started playing with his hair. Everyone had their eyes on you, confused on your proximity but you didn't notice and kept going on braiding his hair.

"I'll do yours later I promise" Lucien said, looking at you from above.

"I hope so !". Leaving everyone even more confused now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you were ready to left with Lucien, Elain caught you and asked you to have a word with her.

Lucien gave you a worried look and you nodded making him understand you were okay for now.

She led you to a private room and paced in it awkwardly. She opened her mouth twice and closed it almost instantly like she wanted to say something but didn't know where to start.

"So, you ans Azriel ? Huh"

"You have actually no right to be mad at me." She cut you off.

"Excuse me ? But I have every right to be mad at you right now ! You have treated me poorly faking to be my friend and laughing at me when you should have been comforting me !" You snapped, angry.

"Well, it's not like someone could ever treat you well."

"What, what do you mean ?"

"Look at you yn, nobody would ever really be with you. You're not ugly but you're not beautifu, you're not dumb but you're not smart, you're just.. Well you. And that's clearly not enough." She looked at you disgustingly.

"But Lucien is treating me well.." You said tears welling in your eyes.

"Don't be blind, yn, he's a man, and like Azriel he will ran to me when he'll see that you're no longer interesting. You were nice and all, you listened to me but I guess I just got bored of you, anyone would." And with that she left the room, leaving 8 pairs of eyes on you as she opened the door. They instantly approached you, Feyre apologising a thousand time for the mean behaviour of her sister and Azriel staying in the back, his eyes full of worry and apology. He was trying to make you feel like everything she had said was false, that you were so much more than that, worthy of the stars,of two shining stars. Because yes they had heard everything. Lucien made his way to the crowd of his family surrounding you and hesitated before he hugged you out of nowhere. Azriel clenched his jaw and his hands turned into fists. When Lucien released you of his grasp, your expression hadn't changed, its like you were empty, just one single tears had escaped your eye. Cassian and Azriel flew you to the ground of Velaris and the last one had kept his hand on yours to make you look at him.

"I'm sorry, for what she said. It's not one bit true."

"Don't worry, she's surely right..." You had answered your gaze falling on his hand. You had never noticed the scars an them, they were so beautiful, so textured, so unique. You eyes widened at the sight and Azriel quickly hid them behind back before keeping going.

"No she wasn't, please don't doubt yourself because of what came out of her mouth because of jealousy. Because that's what she was and still is, jealous."

"Thank you Az really." You sadly smiled at him before joining Lucien who was waiting for you.

He didn't know why, but something clicked in him seeing you walk away under the arm of Lucien and hearing again his nickname from your mouth. He thought it rolled well on your tongue and really wanted to hear it again, as soon as possible. And it tensed him a lot to know that this man who touched you, was probably sleeping at yours tonight, maybe in your bed to comfort you after this emotionally hard day. It puzzled him a lot and didn't even know why, until his shadows came to his ears and murmured repeatedly "want to be him".

Tag list:

@kalulakunundrum

[crosshairlovebot]

birthday revelations / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair discovers it's your birthday, and in an effort to try and understand birthdays, he gets you a gift.

word count: 3,793

warnings: none. crosshair ovethinks a lot

Another request! Maybe not technically a request, but @starrylothcat sent in an ask for an ask prompt and said it would be nice to see me write a fic where crosshair buys a gift for the reader for their birthday or christmas and it's been stuck in my head since! so here you go! i hope i did it justice!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Crosshair didn’t like crowds. He gritted his teeth as he walked alone through the market on Sorgan, sidestepping people as they entered his path. It was noisy, but that didn’t bother him so much. Vendors called out to passersby, promoting their various goods for purchase with enthusiasm. Voices chattered and laughed. The smell of food wafted through Crosshair’s nose and his stomach tightened with hunger. Rations were poor choices compared to the sizzling of flavourful meat on grills, but he didn’t have enough credits to buy himself something to eat.

He only had enough to buy something for you.

He had been helping Tech with cataloguing files when he saw one on their nat-born medic. You had joined Clone Force 99 just over half a standard cycle ago with your plucky yet kind attitude, falling into the group dynamic easier than Crosshair had thought. Sure, it had taken some adjustment for him and his brothers to become used to another presence they had not grown up with, but it was inevitable you would eventually find your place in the team. You were hardworking, strong and compassionate. You paid attention to each of his brothers, giving them your undivided focus during conversation and indulging them in questions about what they were doing or their chosen skill. He had watched you talk with Tech about data decryption, Wrecker about proton-based explosives, Hunter about tracking strategies, Echo about ARC trooper training, and of course, him about sharpshooting.

He recalled the way you sat next to him for the first time on his bunk during their time in Hyperspace. He had disassembled part of his Firepuncher rifle, readjusting the scope and the barrel after it had unexpectedly jammed on their previous mission. He’d been annoyed – his prized weapon never faltered, and he was trying to figure out why it had failed on him when the thin mattress dipped next to him, and you asked what he was doing. When he’d given a particularly surly response, you nodded and then just continued to watch him. His eyes had slid to you.

“Can I help you with anything else?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so icy, but he had been frustrated with this rifle, with himself.

“Can you…explain what you’re doing?” you had asked hopefully.

He had looked at you sceptically. “Why?”

You just shrugged. “It looks interesting.”

He had studied your expression, trying to discern if you were being genuine. But you were. You always were with things like this.

So, he explained what he was doing, answered your questions and by the time his weapon was fixed, he didn’t even really remember his initial annoyance. You had smiled at him, your mouth stretching in a way that made your eyes light up. He felt a little flicker of something in his stomach before it was promptly extinguished.

Since then, you have spent time with him like that more often. Not just when he was cleaning his rifle, but other things. Like throwing Lula back and forth across the bunks as you both talked, joking about things that happened on missions. Sharing looks over briefings. Stealing Wrecker’s snacks.

But his favourite time with you was drawing on your datapad and trying to guess what the other was drawing. He had learnt you liked to draw and enjoyed drawing out something other than a medical diagram. He felt a sense of pride in making you laugh so hard you cried with his silly caricatures during long hyperspace trips. Exaggerated doodles of his brothers, tookas and the like, a portrait of you with a funny expression. You liked to draw him with a smile too big for his face, chuckling as you drew and then collapsing into laughter when you showed him. It always made the thing in his stomach flicker.

He really liked having you around.

So, when he came across your file when helping Tech, he couldn’t help but open it. You had told them all any information they had asked for, and information they had not. There wasn’t really anything you kept secret. But when he saw your ID holo looking particularly embarrassing: with wide eyes and a half-formed expression – like you were taken off guard by the photo, the corner of his mouth twisted up in an impish smirk.

He had intended to tease you about it; set the holo to the show on every Marauder screen so it was everywhere.

He opened the file to take a copy of the holo when he spotted details about your age and date of birth.

He frowned at the date. “Tech, what is today’s galactic date?”

Tech looked up from his datapad, adjusting his goggles before rattling off the date. “Why?”

He said your name before telling him, “It’s their birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Tech blinked.

Age and birthdays were almost foreign concepts to clones. With accelerated aging and growing in a capsule, they didn’t really matter to them. Awkward to calculate, they weren’t celebrated. Crosshair had no idea when he had been ‘birthed’ or decanted, and if the Kaminoans documented such dates, then it was classified information. He knew his chronological age, but his biological age was a little murky. He knew he was a “mature clone”, however with the accelerated aging, he didn’t know where exactly he stood. None of their brothers knew any of these details. It was normal for them.

He read the date and your age. What would it be like to be so sure of something like that? To be sure of the parts that made up who you were?

Crosshair cleared his throat and closed the file without even copying the ID holo. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should’ve asked you about it before, but birthdays weren’t a part of his world, so he hadn’t thought to. But they were important to nat-borns, weren’t they? At least that’s what they’d all been told during their training modules.

When he lay in his bunk that night, he circled his mind for all he knew about birthday traditions. Gatherings. Food. Gifts. Would you like all that? Did you like all that? You seemed like you would. He didn’t know if it was something he would enjoy if he had a birthday…it didn’t really seem like his thing, but maybe he would. He would never know. He thought that Wrecker might be the only one who would enjoy a birthday. Maybe Echo too if you did it right. Same with Hunter.

But you hadn’t said anything about your birthday.

He had tossed and turned. You were part of their squad. You cared. Listened. Laughed. Did you not feel you could share the date with them? He didn’t know, and a part of him felt a little hurt that you might not feel you could. Were you not friends? Crosshair didn’t have many friends, but he knew they were supposed to tell each other things.

He turned again, crossing his arms against his chest as he faced the wall. Why did he even care? If you didn’t want to tell him it was your birthday, fine. He wouldn’t mention it.

He squeezed his eyes shut before sitting up on his elbows and craned his head to see you sleeping in your bunk. Through the darkness, his enhanced eyes saw you curled in yourself, and your nose twitched as you breathed deep and evenly. Something in his chest pinched. He sighed before laying back down and pulling the thin blanket over his head.

Now, as he found himself in this market the next day, he wondered what he was even doing here.

Once they had landed on Sorgan, they completed their mission easily with no complications. But Crosshair was still distracted by your birthday. You hadn’t even said anything when everyone woke up this morning. Just acted like it was any other day. You had just smiled at him as you tucked into a ration bar, saying good morning before throwing one to him to eat.

It puzzled him.

When you all started walking back to the Marauder after the mission, Hunter could tell something was up with him, nudging his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Crosshair had scowled at his brother. “…Yes.”

“You look deep in thought,” Hunter pointed out, falling into step with him.

Crosshair broke his gaze and looked away, back towards where they came, to the village they had just liberated. The thought had barely formed before he said, “Do we have time before the next mission?”

Hunter’s surprise showed in his voice. “We have a couple of hours, why?”

“I’ll be back later,” Crosshair walked off in the direction of the village before Hunter could say anything. His long legs carried him to the marketplace, where he stood now amongst the bustling bodies.

He just couldn’t get your birthday out of his stupid head; that you hadn’t said anything because clones didn’t celebrate birthdays. Just because he didn’t understand them, doesn’t mean he couldn’t try…for you.

He started combing through the vendors, most of which were finishing up resetting their stands after they fled suddenly several days prior. He moved from stall to stall, gazing at the different items over people's heads. Kriff, what were you even supposed to buy people for birthdays? Something they needed? Something they wanted? It was all a little overwhelming. And Crosshair didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Looking for something in particular, my friend?”

Crosshair startled and looked up to see the vendor, a greying man with a wrinkled face, horns protruding from his forehead and curled up in an elegant spiral shape.

Crosshair frowned, clearing his throat. “It’s…my friend's birthday today.”

The man’s face lit up. “Wonderful! Birthdays are special.”

Crosshair’s mouth tightened as the man continued to speak. “What were you thinking of gifting them?”

The hairs on Crosshair’s neck stood up with nerves. “I…I don’t know.”

The man’s face lit up. “Perhaps I can help.”

The man then went through the different items at his stand. He held up scarves, strings of beads, and handmade pottery. Crosshair thought they were all nice enough, but he wasn’t swimming in credits. And none of the items really felt like you. The vendor was patient, more patient than he should’ve been. Either he really wanted to help or was desperate for a sale in a competitive marketplace.

After many minutes and many items, Crosshair felt himself gradually stiffening, becoming more and more on edge and uncomfortable. He felt so out of his depth. He was always so sure of everything, and trying to do this thing he had no experience in, made him more vulnerable than he had in a long time. It was not a feeling he felt comfortable with. Never had been.

And as much as he liked you, maybe this was all a stupid idea. You hadn’t mentioned your birthday for a reason. He shouldn’t bring it up. If he did, he’d have to explain how he found out…and he didn’t want to go through that awkwardness. He was about to open his mouth and tell the over-enthusiastic vendor: thank you, but he wouldn’t bother with a gift, when the vendor clapped his hands loudly, making Crosshair jump.

“I may have something back here, hold on,” he said as he turned away to rifle noisily through a crate behind him.

Crosshair felt his fist curl at his sides, and this should’ve been his opening to slide away unnoticed until he looked down and saw a brown leather book. Crosshair halted and lifted a gloved hand to the soft worn cover, running his fingers over the engravings in the bound leather. He opened the cover, seeing it was a blank notebook, and it had a writing implement tucked into the spine. Not many people recorded things the traditional way anymore; datapads were much more efficient and stored more information than the pages of a notebook. He flicked through the pages, fanning them with his thumb. The dust drifted up and it was a smell he didn’t recognise, but he supposed it was the smell of paper.

“That’s a good choice.”

Crosshair retracted his hand as if he was a cadet being scolded, and looked up at the vendor, who held an oversized pot that would break the second it came aboard the Marauder.

“That would be a perfect gift,” the vendor continued, nodding at the notebook.

Crosshair looked at him before picking up the notebook – more surely this time, and turned it over in his hands. He imagined you in your bunk, scribbling in it at night with a torch in one hand. He imagined you keeping it under your pillow for safekeeping. He imagined you doodling in it, showing him your drawings with that smile on your face. He imagined drawing in it with you. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“How much?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s yours.”

Crosshair’s head snapped towards the vendor. “What?”

The vendor waved him away. “Take it.”

Crosshair blinked, confused. “…I have to pay you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been trying to sell that for years. You’d be doing me a favour.”

Crosshair furrowed his brow. “…Isn’t the customer supposed to be right?”

The vendor barked out a laugh. “Not this time, my friend.”

Crosshair dug into his pocket anyway and pulled out half the credits. “For your patience…at least.”

The vendor chuckled and took them. “Thank you. I hope your friend likes it.”

Crosshair didn’t respond as the man turned away, placing the pot down before calling out to other marketgoers, trying to entice them.

Crosshair walked back through the market, the notebook feeling heavy in his hand. Leaving the village, he made his way back to the Marauder, thoughts swimming in his head.

Kriff, what if you hated it? Or thought it was stupid? What if all his knowledge on birthdays was completely inaccurate and you would think him strange for giving you something? Or what if you just thought he was weird for getting you something at all?

Crosshair’s grip on the notebook tightened. He just wanted to do something nice. Like you always did for them. But this is why he avoided it. It was so vulnerable being nice. Being nice left you open for hurt, open for aching. It was much easier to keep it at bay, to restrict it. To hide it behind actions inconspicuously where it wasn’t out in the open. Being so open with it for you…he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it scared him. The doubt crept in. Crosshair had conviction and confidence, and he wasn’t used to it wavering like this.

He was just about ready to throw the notebook into a bush and never speak of it again when he heard your voice ring out from the steps of the Marauder.

“Crosshair!”

You placed your datapad down and ran over to him. He hid the notebook behind his back with both hands, gripping it so hard he knew his knuckles would be white as you approached him with a smile.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he sounded normal.

“Where’d you go? You disappeared after the mission.”

“I was just…looking for something,” he said carefully. Dank farrik, how was he supposed to do this? He thought he might just leave it on your bunk when you were distracted with a little note written inside the cover saying, ‘Happy Birthday’. That way he could avoid your reaction when you saw it. He didn’t even know how to get into the Marauder with it now that you were here in front of him.

You tilted your head with a quizzical smile. “Looking for something?”

Crosshair nodded. “I couldn’t find it,” he lied.

“Oh…okay,” you looked at him weirdly. Would you look at him like that when you saw his gift?

Crosshair nodded to the Marauder, desperate to get on board and stow the notebook away until he could leave it on your bunk. “Should we go inside?”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything, meshurok,” he lied, his grip tightening again.

“Yes, you are,” you sidestepped him to look behind him and he leapt out of the way. You grinned. “You are! What are you hiding, Cross? Why can’t I see?” you tried to chase him around, but Crosshair kept angling himself away. Kriff, he had never felt so stupid in his whole life.

“It’s nothing. Get your meddling hands away from me, you di’kut,” he walked backwards in a circle, his face and neck hot.

“Crosshair,” you chided, smiling at him. “Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Go away,” he grumbled, hands aching from holding the damned notebook so tight.

“Crosshair,” you said his name again, and your face was stretched in that playful grin that he’d unwillingly memorised. That thing in his stomach flickered again.

Then he remembered how you didn’t tell him about your birthday. And how you were friends, but you didn’t say anything about it. And how he had this unexplainable feeling he couldn’t name sitting in his stomach that compelled him to go to a village market and pick out a stupid gift for a birthday tradition he didn’t even understand just to do something nice for you the way you did for him and his brothers.

Crosshair’s expression flared and he shoved the notebook at your chest. You startled at your hand came up to grab it, sliding against his like a searing snake. He pulled his hand back and balled both at his sides as he gritted out, “Happy birthday.”

All he saw was your eyes were wide before he stalked off, almost stomping his way to the Marauder. His face burned, and embarrassment flooded his body. He felt so stupid, and he hated feeling stupid. He hated the feeling of being on the end of someone’s judgement. He hated knowing that he’d just been forced to make himself vulnerable. But mostly, he hated the feeling of you not trusting him with what was supposed to be the important parts of you.

“Crosshair!”

Your voice came from behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He was already planning different ways he could avoid you. He was going to lock himself in the ‘fresher until the next mission and make sure Hunter placed him on watch at opposite times to you. Whatever it took. His heart panged. You were one of the only people outside his brothers he liked. He would mourn the shared jokes and laughter, and time spent with you, knowing it couldn’t happen anymore.

“Crosshair, wait.”

He felt a hand on his arm pull him back. He swayed backwards, but he let you stop him. He avoided your gaze, scowl burning an outline in his brow as he stared off into the middle distance. Your hand stayed on his arm, and he felt it through the plastoid wrapped around his forearm, squeezing him there. It felt like part of him, and that made him feel both warm with content and spiked with anger simultaneously.

“Cross, please look at me,” your voice said quietly, and his heart squeezed. He slowly moved his gaze, looking down, then sliding his eyes to your bare hand on his arm before they lifted to your face. Your brows were slanted downwards, looking at him with such softness in your eyes he felt the flickering in his chest again.

“How did you…” your voice was soft and trailed off, notebook in your other hand.

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed with gritted words.

He felt your hand flex with your grip. “It does to me.”

He studied your face carefully before saying, “…I was helping Tech with cataloguing his files. I saw your birthday in yours.”

You continued looking at him with an indecipherable gaze and moved your hand slowly from his arm to his wrist, your bare fingertips brushing his gloves. You gently grazed his fingers as you let his hand drop softly. He watched you as you inspected the book, hands turning it over, fanning through the pages. He studied your expression, trying to discern what you thought, feeling anxiety grow in his stomach, his throat tightening. He felt something hot poke inside him as he watched your mouth turn up into a smile as you gazed at his gift.

“I’ve been so busy this year that I forgot about my birthday.”

Crosshair hoped he hid his surprise. You not telling him about your birthday…it was never about him. Of course, you had forgotten. The past six cycles had been a whirlwind for you trying to adjust to a soldier’s lifestyle, countless missions and trying to fit in with his brothers. His face burned again. He was a fool.

You looked up at him, a smirk itching the corners of your mouth. “Been too busy keeping you boys in line.”

Crosshair scoffed lightly, letting a puff of breath out of his nose. Your smile widened.

“This is a beautiful gift, Cross. Thank you for getting it for me,” you place your hand on his arm again, squeezing gently to show your appreciation He felt his heart lift and his cheeks redden, but this time, not in embarrassment.

He nodded at you. “I’m…glad you like it. I don’t have much experience with birthdays.”

Your smile touched the edges of your eyes. “That’s what makes it even more special.”

You reached up on your tip toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him. Crosshair stiffened in shock and surprise before he slowly wrapped his arms around your torso. His fingers grazed your sides, and there was something wildly comforting about holding you like this. He could feel the side of your face pressed into his neck, just below his ear, and your breath tickled the sliver of open skin not covered by his blacks. You were so warm. He felt you squeeze him gently and he didn’t stop himself from squeezing back.

You were his best friend, after all.

You pulled away, but not before you cupped his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. Crosshair flinched and his eyes widened as you lowered yourself back down on flat feet with one of the most joyful smiles he’d ever seen gracing your face. The action had surprised him more than anything else had.

“I’m going to show everyone what you got me,” you said before running off towards the Marauder.

“No, don’t, they’ll—” Crosshair started but you were already halfway up the gangplank. His brothers’ teasing was going to be ruthless.

He sighed, shaking his head before following you, that thing flickering in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t try to extinguish it.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / meshurok = gemstone thank you for reading! i did find this one slightly challenging bc it's very much crosshair in his head and i tried to write him how i thought he would react to a situation like this, but if it's a little OOC, i apologise! but i think he would react like this if someone he cared about didn't tell him something important about them; someone who was his friend and who he liked very much. i think he'd be kinda mad and hurt but he cares too much to not do anything at all. i have more gen requests on the way, so stay tuned if you're interested! <3

tags @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

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[lazycats-stuff]

Heyo, can I ask for a bat!bro reader who’s around 16 or 17 and they find out that he smokes and drinks? And sometimes some drugs. And he (tries to) hide it from everyone?

If not it’s ok, and I hope ur doing good. Can’t wait to see what you write 🫶

Sure thing. I don't personally drink or smoke, even though I am an adult, but those are things that are prominent in my country. Some people start earlier even... I have digressed, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) smokes and drinks. Sometimes experiments with drugs. The problem? He is underage.

Warnings: smoking, underage drinking, DRUGS, experimenting, hiding all of that, lying, partying, cursing

(Y/N) knew that Bruce would kill him if he found out. He knew that sneaking out is not going to pass with Bruce and it could get him punished until he is an adult. But this party he is going to is going to be the best party of the century.

And he didn't want to be the party breaker. His friends were going to be there too and he was going to be damned if he is going to miss it. Thankfully, there wouldn't be anyone in the manor and it would be easier to get out.

They have all made a plan to drive (Y/N). His friend, well, the chauffer of the group, would drive up to the manor, but stay away far enough from the look of the cameras.

But the thing that Bruce would kill him for is his drinking and smoking. And occasional drug use too. But his life is too stressful. Why, I might hear you asking?

Well, the constant pressure of being a son of Bruce Wayne, constant eye of the public on you and constant pressure of being perfect. He turned to smoking first.

It was a way to just let go first. If he took liquor from the cabinets, Bruce and Alfred would know all of it and then he would be in deep shit. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the manor or have any contact with anyone.

He would be on house arrest for the next 2 years.

He took a cigarette and his favorite lighter. But the problem is that there are going to be the people he hates. So he needs to destress before he goes. He opened the window, letting the the cold air in and to let the smoke out.

He put it in his mouth, bringing the flame of the lighter towards his cigarette. He took a long drag, before letting it out. He learnt to let the smoke out in cool ways too, so that was fun to learn.

He let the smoke out through his nose, almost like a bull in the cartoons. He smoked near the window so that the smell could get out.

He sat on the floor, leaning on the wall, his right arm leaning on the window, making sure that the cigarette was out on the roof and that the ashes were falling down on the roof.

He looked at the phone, his friends texting him that they have started going to the manor. (Y/N) just said, okay and shut the phone down. He smoked for 15 more minutes before extinguishing the cigarette on the roof. He stood up and threw it on the roof.

He put the jacket on and started walking towards the front door. He stepped out in the cold air, sighing. Winter has finally come and it will only get worse. He walked to the big gates and pushed them with a little bit of struggle.

When he was out of the property lines, he closed them again. He walked down, zipping his jacket up and then putting his hands in his pockets.

He ran towards the car, getting into the back seat.

" Hello (Y/N)! You ready? " His friend asked and (Y/N) nodded, accepting a bottle of whiskey from his other friend. He took a long swig before giving it back to the front.

" This is party to remember. " The chauffer friend said, getting to the city already.

" I don't think that we will remember it by the morning. " (Y/N) said, smirking at his own joke. The other two laughed too.

This is going to be a night to remember.

(Y/N) finally let loose. A cup of some sort of alcohol in his hand, a cigarette in the other. The music was reverberating through him and he finally enjoyed himself. A few minutes ago, he snorted some cocaine and it made everything ten times better.

He danced with a random boy, just having fun. They rubbed against each other, kissing each other. (Y/N) didn't even know his name, but that didn't matter.

He was cute and really nice to him.

And more importantly, he went to (Y/N)'s school so he was definitely going to hang out and exchange their numbers since (Y/N) didn't have any social media.

It was all well until the sirens were heard. What the actual fuck? Since when does GCPD answers these types of calls? The rest of the time went by in a blur.

" Where is he? " Jason asked as they all ransacked the house for (Y/N).

" The footage shows him leaving around a couple of hours ago. " Tim chimed in, looking at the footage on his phone.

Dick looked at (Y/N)'s room. It looked clean and he started looking for some clues. He looked under the bed, in the drawers and then he looked through the window.

Why would the window be open?

He froze when he saw the cigarettes. What in the hell is going on? Nobody smokes in the family. Jason smokes at his own apartment and the others don't do it.

Damian decided to look at the outside, more so where he was last seen. He walked down, huffing at the stupidity of his brother. He stopped when he saw tire tracks. Somebody picked him up.

Alfred and Bruce guessed that it was just a normal sneaking out thing. Bruce thought about it and he thought about the way to ground his son.

This is insane. Alfred and Bruce waited in the kitchen.

" Alfred, what is going on? " Bruce asked, sighing.

" I don't know sir. But he looked off sir. I swore I could smell cigarettes on his breath, but it was so faint... " Alfred said, rubbing his forehead.

" Somebody drove him. " Damian said, huffing from running back to the manor. Bruce nodded. He didn't do it alone. Okay.

He stepped away when his phone rang. Everyone else joined Alfred and Damian. They wondered where Bruce went and what was going on.

" (Y/N) is in jail. " Bruce said and Jason's jaw dropped. Damian was also shocked, but didn't show it. Tim and Dick looked at one another in shock too.

" What the actual fuck? " Jason asked and for the first time, Alfred didn't say anything.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat in the cell. Turns out that the person who hosted had parents who were drug dealers. And he went to their party. By now, Bruce knows and they have notified him. He knew that there would be no talking his way out of this.

He put his head in his hands, cursing underneath his breath.

If he finds out about cocaine, he is going to get killed. Not only by Bruce, but also by Alfred too. Alfred is going to crucify him if he finds about the cocaine. Oh God please don't let them find out.

" Come on Wayne. " The officer said and (Y/N) had to take a deep breath. He felt dizzy from the alcohol and the cocaine. Oh no.

If he passes out, they will take him to a hospital.

He saw Bruce and he looked pissed. (Y/N) tried to say something, but he stopped due to the black spots. Bruce called him, but (Y/N) was falling by the time Bruce came.

Everything went black and (Y/N) lost consciousness.

(Y/N) woke up later in a hospital bed. He blinked tiredly, freezing when he saw Bruce in the chair.

" You had to have your stomach pumped. " Bruce started and (Y/N) swallowed with a lot of difficulty. " You had a lot of alcohol in your system and you were close to being in a way more serious predicament. " Bruce said standing up.

" But the thing that nearly sent me to the grave is the fact that you used cocaine. " Bruce said through his teeth, now enraged.

" How long? " Bruce asked, taking a breath to try to calm down.

" It's not regular. It's just a few times. " (Y/N) admitted, looking down at his hands. He was ashamed so much that he couldn't look Bruce in the eyes, his own father.

" And the smoking? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms. " Alfred said you smelt of cigarettes and Dick found your 'ashtray'. " Bruce said, using air quotes on the word ashtray.

" I'm sorry. But it's stressful being your son. " (Y/N) tried to explain himself, but Bruce put his hand up.

" I know. It's not easy. But you could have come to us and we would have helped you. " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead. " I don't think I need to tell you that you are going to be grounded. I love you, but I have to nip this in the bud. No going out, all the technology is going to be taken, the only route you will have is school and manor. " Bruce stopped for a moment. " You broke our trust with your unhealthy habits and you need to earn it back. And more importantly, there is no patrol until you get yourself in order. " Bruce said and (Y/N)'s first tears fell.

(Y/N) loved patrolling and this was a nasty hit. Everything else, he could live without it. But patrol? No.

Bruce saw it and knew that patrol punishment did it. He gently embraced his son and (Y/N) cried softly into his chest. Bruce knew that tough love was needed in this situation. He never really used it with others, but now it was needed.

" You are going to get through this and you will be okay. " Bruce comforted, giving him a kiss on the head.

[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Love blooms in bookstores - part one

Hi 🌻anon ! Here's the first part of your request, I'll try to get part 2 out as soon as i get out of my writer's block.

Felix Volturi x reader

Wordcount : 1188 words

No one had wanted that small bookshop your grandma left behind, but you. “Old books are boring”, said your uncles. “Moving in another country is not interesting and too much trouble”, said your parents. “This shop is too much work”, said your cousins. They all wanted to sell it, even if it meant giving up the apartment above it. “But no”, you said, “I will take it.” And so you did. You wanted to be a librarian at first, but this was a wonderful opportunity, to inherit the bookstore your grandma loved so much. You also had fond memories of Volterra…

So, you signed the papers, put all your belongings in boxes, stopped talking to your family that was pissed at you for not selling the shop that would have brought them money, and you left for Italy. Your Italian was not perfect, but it was good enough and would get better with practice. You also received your grandma’s saving that were connected to the inheritance of the bookshop, and learnt the same way that some patrons of Volterra allowed you a fund for taking care of that historical building, an important shop for the community. Once the paperwork was complete and everything was in order, you finally moved to Volterra. It was almost a religious moment, the one when you finally unlocked the door to the bookshop. It wasn’t as big as you remembered, you weren’t so little anymore, but it was still as magical as you remembered it. It was hard for you to fathom that you would never see your grandma behind the counter again, but at least you got to make her legacy keep on living, like you knew she wanted. You explored the shop a little, but quickly moved to the living area upstairs, where you would live from now on, you had to settle down. The house had been empty for a good few months now, and you had to clean up a lot of things. You brought all your things in, leaving in boxes most of your belongings for now, you would have to get rid of some of your grandma’s things first.

It took you a whole week and half to choose what to keep and what to get rid of, donating and selling what you wouldn’t have the use for. Once that was done, you organized your own belonging, and you were finally settled in. It was now time to take care of the bookshop. You started to look in the book of counts, and it didn’t seem too bad. There was even a regular, a certain Demetri Aster that would regularly buy a lot of books for a good amount of money, keeping the bookshop afloat practically by himself. You hoped that this client would not mind the change of owner, and remain a regular client. Sadly, you quickly discovered that very few things were done by computer, you would have to change that, like the way to keep track of the stock for example. It would be much easier for you in the end. You decided to start to familiarize yourself with the bookshop by doing the full inventory, which was the most logical way in your eyes, and also a good way to get to touch every book.

That was on your second day of inventory that you met him. Despite the bookshop not being open yet, you had kept the door open, to keep some air flowing in to prevent you from dying from that many dust. A smooth and masculine voice had resonated through the shop as you were inventorying your third bookshelf of the day, asking if you were finally open again. You turned to the intruder, discovering a well-dressed man, maybe in his late mid-twenties looking at you. He was that typical well-dressed man you were expecting to see, except that he was very handsome, and you could swear he had an accent, even if you couldn’t pin it yet. “I am sorry, but I have not reopened yet. I am merely at the beginning of the inventory.”, you told him nicely. “I need to know precisely what I have and what I need before reopening grandma’s bookshop.”

At these words, the man apologized. “Oh, I am sorry to disturb you then. I was quite the good client for your grandmother, and I was hoping the bookshop would reopen soon… My name is Demetri by the way, and I want to say that I am truly sorry for your loss, your grandmother was a wonderful woman.” You nodded and felt bad that you looked so under-dressed compared to your usual self and covered in dust, while meeting for the first time who you hoped would be your best client. “I intend to reopen as soon as I can, and I am hopeful that I will be able to by the end of the month.” That brought a smile on Demetri’s face, he seemed to have missed a lot to have shopped in this particular bookshop. “That would be absolutely delightful!” Since he seemed to have the time, you allowed him to stay in the shop with you, chatting. You were curious about Volterra, life around and Demetri seemed to know a lot about the town and its surrounding. It was nice to chat with Demetri, and the rainy afternoon seemed to go by much faster in his company, until Demetri bid you goodbye, promising you to come back as soon as the shop was open again, and gave you his phone number in case you needed him.

Like you thought, it took you three weeks to finish the inventory, clean the shelves and organize the books, but also get a program to digitalize most of the things. You distribute flyers around the town to announce the reopening and change of owner, and text Demetri about the set date which delight him. He also promises to come with his brother, which pique your interest. When the day of the reopening finally arrive, you put on one of your best outfits, but can’t help but be a little worried at how bad the weather is, it is not really inviting… For the first hour, no one shows up. And when rain starts pouring, you thought it was a bad sign. But finally, you heard the door open, and a familiar voice greeting you.

“[Y/N]! It is nice to see the bookshop opened again!” “Demetri! It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You greet him, delighted to see your first customer. “I’ve ordered a selection of books on my own, so I let you have a look around…” That’s when you saw him. The man behind Demetri was a giant, so tall and muscular and handsome… Your eyes couldn’t let go of him as you took in his figure, his short dark hair, sharp jawline, kissable lips… He had his arms crossed in a casual way, the muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and you finally got the revelation why you were into bigger guys: you were waiting for him to show up in your life.

[silverflqmes]

Any HCs for Sephiroth with an s/o that's afraid of thunder? 👀💖

໒⦂ 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi, i did my best to compile some headcanons, personally i think sephiroth might also be scared himself, so a little comfort will go his way too :’)

genre. hurt + comfort

sephiroth x gn!reader.

⌗ the fear of thunder and lightning, otherwise known as astraphobia, is commonly shared among most and completely understandable to sephiroth whenever you find it in yourself to tell him.. unless you give yourself away on accident.

⌗ i feel that due to his enhanced senses and of all the bullshit hojo put him through, he might have developed a sensitivity to loud noises and flashes — but he has learnt to grit his teeth and bear it.

⌗ on some nights it can be a little harder for him, but he feels at ease if you are around and does his best to protect you since you are suffering from the same — if not, worse.

⌗ if you take it upon yourself to speak up about your fear, rest assured, it’s a judgment free zone. sephiroth neither has the place to judge, nor does he shun you for it because he understands it well and wishes to do all that he can to help you through your fear.

⌗ if you have difficulty telling him, trust me with how observant he is, he’s likely to put the pieces together pretty easily. but even still, he will wait until you are ready to tell him.

⌗ but if a thunderstorm comes and you have failed to do, he will take matters into his own hands and at the minute he catches wind of your discomfort.

⌗ it could be a flinch, the tiniest whimper, you ducking to cover your ears or a haphazard excuse to leave the room — but sephiroth will know.

⌗ he would give you a moment if you left the room, but when he doesn’t see you return, he will approach and either join you wherever you are hiding, no matter how small the space is ( this man will cram himself in there like a cat don’t underestimate him ), or pull you into his hold for you to hide in his chest while he soothes your shaking body with his touch.

⌗ from the day he discovered your fear, he would regularly check the weather, making sure to be home whenever a thunderstorm would take place to comfort you through it.

⌗ if he’s away or cannot be home on time from either a mission or meeting, he’s got you on speed dial and keeps you on call for however long you need.

⌗ if he cannot call you at all because fuck shinra sometimes ( all the time ), he took it upon himself to buy you one of those weighted anxiety plushies — or even a normal plush for you to cuddle to feel safe. personally i’m uh.. thinking a gray kitty with cerulean colored eyes to remind you of him :’) so that you feel like he’s still there in a sense.

⌗ another thing is maybe audio recordings of him ( probably just random stuff about his day and sweet nothings ) for you to listen to if you need to hear his voice in the case again, that he cannot be there or phone you.

⌗ throughout a thunderstorm, he would do his best to take your mind off it and make it a little more bearable if at all possible.

⌗ me personally, i like rain but i’m no good with thunderstorms that come with strong winds — the sounds give me a bit of ptsd, especially if i’m on my own. but i try to do things to take my mind off it, which i will list through sephiroth<3

⌗ thunder is a sound which can be solved by playing something over it. whether it’s a show, movie or music, even conversation — you bet your boyfriend is providing whatever he can to mask the unpleasant noises outside.

⌗ rainy days can be nice to get all bundled up in blankets with tea, hot coco or coffee — any warm beverage that you personally enjoy, and sephiroth is willing to use that as a way of making the storm a little easier to handle. pairing the experience with a good book or poetry is also nice — certainly if he offers to read to you. goodness his voice is so nice..

⌗ furthermore he has the curtains pulled in your shared apartment if you find it easier not to see what’s happening outside and he takes it upon himself to make homemade soup for dinner<3

⌗ when the storm drags into the evening, he takes you into his arms and holds you as tight as he possibly can, shielding you from the world beyond his windows.

⌗ even as you tremble and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, you can hear sephiroth humming, the gentle and steady pitter patter of his heartbeat as he smooths a hand down your back. gradually, it relaxes you and your eyes begin to get heavy.

⌗ you hold on tight to your beloved, allowing his protective hold to envelope you wholly as you at last give into sleep, aware that he would keep you safe throughout the evening and remainder of the thunderstorm.

⌗ bonus for sephiroth.. on the rare occasions that his own fear gets the better of him, you do your best to muster whatever courage you can throw together and hold him closely.

⌗ you card your fingers through his silky hair, allowing him to bury his face in either your neck, shoulder, chest — wherever he feels most comfortable — as you rub his back as tenderly as possible, vowing to be there through the very end as he has with your moments of fear.

notes. i may have gotten a little too detailed and indulged a little more than i should have.. but i’m hoping it’s to your likings, tysm for requesting again<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[vulpisnocturna]

Binding Vow - Part III

This is the last part of Binding Vow 🤍

Part I

Part II

Read on AO3

I do not condone this behaviour. This is purely fictional. Please read warnings and avoid if you find any of them triggering.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Chrollo being a pretentious bastard, Chrollo mansplains, Emotional Manipulation, Controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, Kidnapping, Captivity, Reader is struggling, dubcon, NSFW

Word Count: 7.6k

You were insane. You were deranged, and spineless and pathetic. Waking up with Chrollo’s arm holding you to him, possessive and stifling as always, you had actually felt good about it. You, the captive, the prisoner, the trophy possession he had decided to steal for himself. You had liked his touch, and had felt comforted by it. You had wanted the moment to last forever, that feeling of being in Chrollo’s good books and not having to fear for his next move. If you just accepted it, liked the physical reaction of your body, did what he wanted, it was so much easier.

The past two weeks after your escape had almost been... peaceful. Chrollo hadn’t punished you, and so long as you sat on his lap, made out with him and spoke to him, he was gentle, kind and lenient. He was waiting for you to sleep with him, not forcing himself on you, even though you weren’t sure you would even push him away. After all, kissing him felt so disgustingly good. Human contact felt so comforting, and you deserved to feel good, right? You had lived in torment for months now, and now that you had a modicum of normalcy, of happiness, it was normal to want to keep it. It was normal to want Chrollo to be happy. If Chrollo was happy, or whatever the comparable emotion was for someone like him, you were safe, comforted, treated kindly.

But this was Chrollo. Did you really want Chrollo to be happy, to show you that shit-eating smug smirk of his? To get what he wanted?

No. This wasn’t about Chrollo at all. This was about you. You were just looking out for yourself. Escape was impossible, and you would not get any mercy from him a second time even if you tried a second attempt. This was about self-preservation. This was about building a life for yourself with what you had. In that way, wasn’t this also brave?

‘Good morning, my love’ his husky voice reverberated in the crook of your neck, and he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, holding you closer, fingertips stroking your stomach. You tensed up a little, but did not attempt to push him away. Good mood. He was still in a good mood. You had learnt to tell his moods apart even though most of the time his face was blank or smug.

He turned you, stroking your hair and smiling at you, his eyes gleaming with some kind of emotion you were unable to name.

‘I was thinking that you have been so good for me lately, darling. I am willing to put behind the whole mistake of your escape if you continue to be so lovely and sweet. And, I was thinking I could take you on a date today. How does that sound?’ he asked, and you tried to contain the way your chest felt light with gratitude. He was willing to take you outside? Apart from your botched plan of escape, you hadn’t been outside for more than two months. You wanted it so badly. You needed it. Needed to see the outside world, needed to stretch your legs, to breathe in the clean air.

‘Uhm- where?’ you asked, still reticent about sounding too enthusiastic. This was still Chrollo, you reminded yourself. Still your kidnapper.

But... he was willing to take you outside. Even if you had tried to escape.

‘If you don’t feel up to it, we’ll stay home, of course. Don’t push yourself’ he said, stroking your cheek. Your breath faltered. No, you needed it.

‘No- I want to!’ you stammered, scared he might just be taunting you. It would destroy you if that was true. But Chrollo simply gave a soft laugh.

‘Relax, darling. I knew it would make you happy. We can go to an art gallery, and then, have some dinner before we come back’ he said, fiddling with the strap of your silk tank top, one of the many flimsy clothes he had bought for you, ‘however, there are some guidelines. They’re non-negotiable. But, if you follow them, you can expect to go on many more outings in the future’

Rules. He was giving you rules. You already had a feel for what he’d say, but you honestly did not care. So long as you got to see the outside world, you would do anything. Besides, trying to escape under his watchful eye would be impossible, especially since escaping when he was supposed to be away for hours had proven itself to be a complete disaster.

‘First, do not try to run from me. You know what would happen if you did. Do not ruin your streak, darling. Second, make no attempts to ask anyone to help you run from me. If you did, I’m afraid I would have to dispose of them, and you do not want that to happen, do you? Third, you must tell me if you are uncomfortable at any point. Do not force yourself to endure discomfort just to be outside. If you wish to go home at any point, we will, no questions asked. Fourth, I want to choose your clothes. It’s only fair, since I know the dress requirements of the place I plan to choose. Alright?’ he said, scanning your face.

You had expected the first two rules, and you did not even question them in your mind. Of course he would say that. But the third? Why would you feel distressed about being outside? It was all you ever needed or wanted. But you supposed you could accept, since it wasn’t going to happen. Chrollo had a nasty habit of picking your outfits anyway, it wouldn’t change anything. As revealing as he could make them, you could put up with it, if it meant you got to go. You doubted his nasty jealousy would allow him to make you go naked outside.

‘Okay’ you only said, and he smiled.

‘Good’ he smiled, kissing your forehead. Again, the fact that you did not flinch surprised you. He had kissed you so much in the past week that now, you saw it as normal. It shouldn’t be. But it was. And it meant you were going outside.

‘We’ll have breakfast outside. I’ll shave and have a shower in the main bathroom. If you wish to have one too, you can use this one. Unless you wish to join me’ he said, voice roguish and tempting, despite the fact that it only brought a grimace and a burning feeling on your face.

‘I’ll take this bathroom’ you muttered sourly. Chrollo did not seem fazed in the slightest as he stretched like a cat and lifted himself off the bed.

‘As you wish, darling’ he said, heading towards the wardrobe. You didn’t even want to see him leer at all the outfits he’d bought you, you didn’t want the anxiety of wondering if he’d pick one of those skimpy skirts that barely covered your ass. So you turned away again, facing the curtains of the wide window that offered a view of the whole city.

‘There. That’s perfect’ you heard, and curiosity (or maybe it was dread?) made you turn again, staring at the sage green dress he’d picked. It was fairly modest for his tastes, you thought. The length was a respectable one, possibly reaching the middle of your thighs, and the top had a cowl neckline that would expose some of your cleavage, but not too much. You were impressed. But perhaps you should have sniffed out the trap, because his other hand was holding matching black bra and panties, both obscene, all lace and barely concealing fabric. You tensed up, your cheeks heating up, mortified rage building up inside you as you glowered at him.

‘Consider this my payment for this date, darling. It’s only my imagination that will benefit from you wearing this, anyway. Unless you plan to seduce me’ he said slyly, smirking at you. You sneered. Of course not. All your physical contact was initiated or brought on by him. You didn’t want Chrollo. You didn’t like him. He was... a prick. He just happened to be unfairly hot. And good at sex.

‘I’m planning no such thing’ you snarled, and he tilted his head, folding the clothes and placing them on the bed.

‘Then I do not see an issue. Of course, you could go without wearing any. Or we could stay home. Your decision’ he said simply, nonchalantly.

Ah. Your decision. The mockery of one, at most.

‘Whatever’ you said, averting your eyes. Chrollo shot you one last look full of yearning before he grabbed a black suit from the wardrobe along with a white shirt and a black tie, exiting the bedroom.

You buried your face in the pillow, unwilling to look too much at the lingerie. Was he genuine when he said it would only be for his imagination? Or did he want you to wear it because he planned to fuck you that night? You hated the tightening of your lower stomach at the thought.

No, you didn’t want it to happen. It was dread, not longing.

You decided to act with the impression that he would not and stood up, snatching the clothes and locking yourself in the bathroom. Chrollo had never walked in on you in the bathroom, for which you were grateful. It was a minimal respect of your privacy, but for someone who crossed almost all of your boundaries with no regard for your say in the matter, it was astounding that he hadn’t picked the bathroom lock to get to you. And perhaps because it was your safest space from him, you had never tried to prolong your time in there or hide in that room, because you did not want him to take away what little privacy you had if he was under the impression you were using it to avoid him.

Perhaps it had to do with his gentlemanly façade, the front he put on, acting as though he was in any way chivalrous. It would ruin that image if he picked the lock of the bathroom to spy on a lady. But coercing her to wear slutty lingerie and keeping her captive were perfectly gallant things to do in his fucked up brain.

Regardless, you were glad to feel somewhat safe as you took off your tank top and shorts, turning the tap and stepping under the shower head. You sighed, trying to make it quick. You found yourself scrubbing and taking extra care in making sure you were pristine, and you hoped you were doing it in some kind of performative ritual because you were going outside and seeing people for the first time in two months and a half, and not because you thought Chrollo was going to see you naked. Although he had already seen you once, and his wandering hands were greedy when he had you on his lap, wearing flimsy silky nightgowns or his shirts. He was like a centipede when he got his hands on you. It felt like he had dozens of them.

When you got out and reluctantly put on the strapless bra and the lacy excuse for underwear he’d chosen, you were both impressed and revolted by the way they both fit you like a glove. How the hell could he know your exact measurements? Though all the clothes he’d ever gotten you always fit perfectly, even though you had never tried any of them before, the fact that he knew the precise measurements of your tits was disconcerting.

And despite how much you might hate him for making you wear that lewd set, you had to admit it was undeniably sexy on you. Which only made you angrier.

You ground your teeth, slipping on the dress he’d chosen, finding that one also fit you perfectly. You even put on mascara and nude lipstick. You got out after drying your hair and putting on the ridiculously expensive perfume he’d bought for you, finding him casually lounging on the armchair by the window, perfectly groomed and dressed. The suit was much classier than his cross-riddled fur coat, and he might even seem a gentleman in it. Well, except for the stupid cloth on his forehead. As out of place and ridiculous as it should have looked, it did nothing to make him look any worse. He only stood out more.

His covetous eyes raked your figure, his lips parting slightly as he stood up, making you feel like prey under his hungry gaze.

‘You look... truly stunning, darling’ he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist and hips, his lips seeking out yours. You were engulfed by the minty scent of his aftershave and the heady, expensive cologne he always wore, creating a mix that had you squirming in his hold as he kissed you, tongue greedily tracing your lower lip. His mouth traced a feverish line to your throat, and he breathed in, groaning softly, making your thighs press together instinctively.

Was he...?

‘Don’t fear, sweetheart. I won’t trap you beneath me and rip this pretty dress off you... though you are so tempting right now’ he whispered seductively against your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe, and you bit your lip hard, swallowing a whimper.

‘You’re a pretty little thing, you know that? Part of me wants to keep you home and taste your lips again and again’ he continued, hand cupping your ass, squeezing possessively. You swallowed, your eyes widening, pulse shooting up.

‘No- want to go outside- you said-‘ you started, but was shushed by his finger on your lips.

‘I am a man of my word, darling. I said I’d take you on a date, and that is what I’m going to do’ he said, giving you one last heated kiss before he released you.

‘Now, for the finishing touches’ he said, heading to the dresser and opening a box. Gold gleamed between his fingers as he approached you, and you stared at the emerald pendant and matching dangling earrings he had picked up.

‘Did you steal those?’ you murmured, and he let out a soft scoff.

‘Does it matter? Which one would make you feel better?’ he asked, gathering your hair and holding it, his head dipping as you stood in front of the mirror, frozen in place as his lips grazed your nape, sending shivers down your spine with the way his stormy eyes were fixed on you.

‘I guess not’ you breathed, and he smirked, putting the necklace on you and straightening it up on your sternum. Next, he released your hair and put on the earrings. You had to begrudgingly admit they were stunning. But that was to be expected. Chrollo liked to steal beautiful things. According to him, you were one of them.

‘Ready, my love?’ he asked, and you nodded. The shoes that were waiting for you at the door were heels, but luckily, they weren’t too high, and did not look too uncomfortable. Chrollo started to get on his knees, and you grimaced, picking up the heels and sitting on the sofa, putting them on yourself. You also took the dark coat he handed you yourself instead of letting him hold it for you. You refused to be a doll he could just dress up. He nonchalantly smoothed his jacket, seemingly unfazed by your rejection as his aura focused around his hand and his blasted book appeared between his fingers.

You stood next to him, and his hand snaked around your waist, holding you possessively as the lock clicked. The book disappeared, and he guided you outside and towards the lift.

Your fingers were trembling at your sides, and your gaze was greedy as it took in the outside world, the people walking by, your lungs filling with the clean air, your skin basking in the pale sunlight.

Chrollo led you to his car, or at least, the one he was currently using, opening the door for you and insisting on holding your hand as you sat down. He closed it behind you, circling the car and sitting down, immediately locking the door. As tempting as the thought of throwing yourself out of the moving car was, you had no intention of trying to escape, but you knew he would always take precautions anyway. Perhaps it was part of the reason why escaping him was impossible.

He drove through the city centre with a hand steady on your thigh except for when he had to change gear, but you could hardly care. Your gaze was fixed on the window, drinking in the buildings, the shops fleeting by, the statues and houses and the people walking on the pavement.

He parked in an underground parking space next to the gallery, once again feigning chivalry as he opened your door and helped you outside. You let him, because you did not want to cut your time short. You wanted to make the most of this day.

There were a lot of people in line, and to your surprise, Chrollo calmly walked to the end of it and stood there, patiently waiting. You stood next to him, feeling oddly breathless, as though your ribcage had tightened. So many people. You hadn’t seen so many people for so long. Their chattering was loud, they moved around you and you couldn’t keep an eye on all of them. Had being a captive ingrained in you the need to keep a watchful gaze on everyone around you?

You felt slightly nauseous.

‘Everything alright, darling?’ Chrollo’s voice came to you slightly muffled, and you swallowed, nodding quickly, terrified he would take you back home if you showed any sign of discomfort.

‘Too many people?’ he offered, and you focused on a spot far away under the stone arcades.

‘No. I’m fine’ you said much too quickly, your legs feeling slightly weak, to the point you had to lean on Chrollo. Was this why he’d chosen to stay in the line whilst he could have paid to skip it? Just to show you that you needed him in the crowd? To take you back home? You forced yourself to stand tall and by yourself, but Chrollo had already tightened his hold on you, trapping your side to his.

‘I wouldn’t want you to fall, dearest. We can still go home, you know’ he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. You gritted your teeth.

‘No’ you hissed, your throat tightening when you heard how hostile your tone sounded, ‘please. I want to stay, Chrollo’ you added, sweetening your voice, knowing his ego always adored the sound of your begging.

‘Hmh... you’ll need to stay close to me, dear. You seem quite fragile at the moment, so I will need you to hold onto me’ he said, his eyes smug and his smirk self-satisfied.

You pressed your lips together, wishing you could debate with him, tell him no, but his rule and the fact that he had the last say were vivid in your mind. It was his fleeting satisfaction over a day of joy for you.

You leaned against him again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your upper arm, moving along the line. Minutes passed, and Chrollo did not seem to want to let you go, and you did not seem to want to admit to yourself that his closeness, his stable presence holding you in the swarming crowd was reassuring.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the ticket box. Chrollo bought two tickets for the exhibit, leading you towards the first room. You lost yourself reading the brochure, flicking through the different exhibits, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull as they set on Van Gogh. One of your favourite painters, and apparently, most of his artworks were now here for a short time. Had Chrollo known?

‘That is the first smile you’ve shown me that reaches your pretty eyes’ he said, his eyes glinting with some kind of genuine fondness as he stared at you.

‘You knew?’ you whispered, struggling to believe he would do something genuinely nice for you. Not something Chrollo liked, something you liked.

‘That you have a predilection for Van Gogh, or that his paintings would be here? Of course, to both’ he said, and you stared at him, suspicion extending its tendrils in your mind.

‘Are you... planning to steal them?’ you asked, eyes narrowed. Chrollo smirked, tilting his chin up and glancing at you with a sardonic look in his grey eyes.

‘Why? Would you like a specific one? I could arrange that’ he said easily, and you shook your head, disbelieving.

‘No- of course not’ you muttered.

‘A pity. If it gifted me another pretty smile, I would steal all of his paintings’ he said with something akin to reverence, stopping in the middle of the empty room to stroke your cheek, staring intently at you.

‘That’s- wrong’ you stammered, trying to vanquish his stupidly romantic display of affection. He was completely without morals nor did he have any sane conceptions of what was acceptable to do for something as trivial as a smile.

‘Why? Numerous museums have stolen artwork throughout the centuries, and somehow, that is moral? None of these museums paid Van Gogh for his artistry. They are fair game’ he said smoothly, and you stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

‘To you, everything is fair game’ you said. Chrollo smiled, fingers curling on your waist, under your unbuttoned coat.

‘Darling, you are so straitlaced. When you can appreciate something more than the masses, you are entitled to take it for yourself. Beautiful things deserve the right amount of appreciation, which most people cannot provide’ he said, and you had a vague idea of what he was really talking about in more detailed terms as he leaned over you, eyes gleaming with self-assurance.

‘Do you think any of these inane, mediocre individuals could truly love you? See your beauty, appreciate you, know you like I do? I am the only one who can truly give you what you deserve. I can give you anything’ he said in a soft, fervent voice, kissing your cheek, making your head spin with his delusional world views and the headiness of his tone.

‘Do you remember when I fucked you, darling? Of course you do. You were begging and whining for me, for my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Do you think any of these people would know how to fuck you like I do? How to make you scream and sob with need? Or maybe you don’t remember too well. But I will remind you soon. It might be tomorrow, in a few days, a week from now, but you will see. There is so much I want to do to you’ he was practically purring in your ear, voice low and inebriating, full of sinful promises that made your heart drum in your ears and your lower stomach hot with want.

Tomorrow? A few days? Then- he was going to fuck you soon. You felt dizzy, and you were not wholly convinced it was from dread.

‘You’re a creep’ you mouthed, terrified of his effect on you. If you’d been religious, you’d have thought he really was Lucifer incarnate. The temptation of the most beautiful of God’s angels really did feel real when Chrollo made it known what he wanted to do to you.

‘Oh? You think I can’t hear you mewl in your sleep, darling? God, if you knew how much control I need to exert to keep from burying my head between your thighs. Do you dream of me, my love?’ he continued, and your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as ferocious shame gripped your throat. No, he was bluffing. You couldn’t have... if he knew-

‘Of my ex’ you said, because he was humiliating you and you couldn’t bear his smug grin and the satisfaction and hunger you could hear in his voice.

Chrollo’s grip on you tightened, and he straightened up, his eyes burning with jealousy, but his lips curled in a nasty smirk.

‘Little liar. We’ll see’ he said, voice thick as honey, and you shivered, hugging your body as you went to look at the paintings. Chrollo followed you leisurely, like a shadow. It was as though there was a string connecting the two of you. Where you went, he was right behind you, if not already touching you.

The paintings in the first five rooms were the oldest, with gold painted on religious imagery, ugly infants and static anatomy. Still, your eyes drank the paintings in like you were dying of thirst, looking for the beauty in a world where Chrollo was the dealer of what you were allowed to see.

When you stopped for more than half a minute to stare at a painting, you had already walked through ten rooms, ignoring Chrollo’s pretentious chiming in with random historical facts and art lessons.

It was beautiful. No. That wasn’t right. It was petrifying. “Judith beheads Holofernes”, the silver plate read next to it. Artemisia Gentileschi. A woman.

There were two women and a man in the painting. One of the women was holding down the man onto a bed, whilst the other one was in the middle of slicing his head with a sword.

The world seemed to stand still as your eyes wandered around the canvas, taking in the colours, the skill, the beauty of it. But it wasn’t the artistic skills of that painting that mesmerised you. No, it was the rage. It was the sheer disgust, revulsion and fury that seeped through the blood trickling down the mattress and spurting in the air, spattering her dress. Punishment. Vengeance.

‘How macabre’ chimed in Chrollo, obviously unperturbed by the gore of the painting, ‘I did not know you had a bloodthirsty side to you, darling’

You ignored him. You’d felt that rage. That need for retribution. You knew what it was for.

‘I hope you’re not picturing doing that to me’ he said, and then sighed, stroking your hair, ‘Artemisia Gentileschi. She was raped by her father’s friend, and though she was tortured, she maintained her story throughout the trial that followed, which resulted in the conviction of her rapist. Her paintings do seem to reflect her exacting vengeance on him’

You looked at the woman in the painting, silently recognising her strength, standing in awe of it.

‘I could steal it for you if you like it so. Though I would not want you to get fanciful ideas’ he said. You couldn’t help but scoff. You could not say you were in the same position as Artemisia had been, but you understood the sentiment well. At times, you had wanted to behead Chrollo with a broadsword and bathe in his blood.

Who would have guessed that now, he was your only source of solace. That you did not shy away from his touch, that you dreamt of it.

‘I’d rather you stole me a broadsword’

‘As captivating as the sight of you brandishing one would be, I’m afraid I cannot do that’ he said, and you nodded absentmindedly. Obviously.

Chrollo bought breakfast at the art café, and you resumed the visit after that.

But nothing else captured your mind like that one painting. Well, until you got to the room where Van Gogh’s painting were displayed. If Artemisia’s paintings had filled you with respect and petrified you with their rage, Van Gogh rooted you to the spot with the sheer emotion of his art.

You could not stop yourself from smiling, and your eyes shone bright. You didn’t even care that Chrollo was staring at you like a hawk.

Again he offered to steal them for you. You denied wanting that, telling him that you wanted as many people as possible to bask in the beauty of them, and that you wanted them to acknowledge a painter who had never been appreciated in his lifetime.

‘You are so sweet, my love’ he said, holding you to him.

You weren’t sure you would not find Van Gogh’s sunflowers staring at you the next morning.

By the time you were finished with the visit, you were ecstatic. Yes, you had had to endure Chrollo’s centipede hands throughout the day, but you had seen so much, and felt alive. And he hadn’t even been too stifling.

‘I- thank you, Chrollo’ you said once you were back in the car, hoping this would happen again. He turned to you, staring at you, his usually cold grey eyes shining with warmth, his smile, for once, genuine.

‘It was my pleasure, darling’ he said, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, devoid of the hunger that usually seeped through them. One that, if you ignored the past two months and a half, would have you swooning.

He smiled against your lips, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling out of the parking spot.

The restaurant he’d chosen was just as luxurious as you had expected from someone like him. He sat in front of you in the secluded booth, reading the menu. You did the same, tempted to get the most expensive thing just to put an indent in his wallet. Though it probably would be pocket change to him. And if not, he could always arrange stealing something to make up for the loss.

He ordered Cabernet, and you considered getting drunk to make the date with your kidnapper less awkward. But you didn’t think he’d let you down too many glasses of wine.

Still, you sipped it avidly, glaring at him when he scoffed.

‘Darling, am I such bad company that you have to drown your sorrows in wine?’ he asked, clearly a rhetorical question.

‘Yes’ you said, and he let out a soft laugh.

‘Are you sure you want to inhibit your senses around me? Considering I’m such bad company?’ he mused, sipping his wine, his pretty lips stained blood red. You put the glass down, scowling and going back to deciding what you wanted to eat.

You settled for steak, surprised to see he ordered the same. You had expected him to get something pompous like lobster.

The meal was undeniably amazing, even though Chrollo had taken it upon himself to interview you about what you’d thought of all the paintings, clearly trying to exhibit his own knowledge, which turned into you trying to one-up him. That might also have been a ploy from his part to get you to argue with him.

‘Interesting. When you’re not so nervous, you’re quite self-assured, darling. Perhaps the thought of being seen as less knowledgeable than I am is unbearable in your mind. Is it to do with sexism? I assure you, the fact that you’re a woman makes no difference to me in terms of your intelligence. Which is, of course, of the highest degree’ he said, and you groaned, staring at him and taking another gulp of Cabernet, even though no amount of wine could save you from him dissecting your brain and being pretentious.

‘Don’t psychoanalyse me. And stop trying to be a feminist icon to impress me. It rings hollow after what you have done’ you said, thinking yourself bold with your quips. Perhaps you should settle down. After all, this was still your mass murdering captor.

‘Ah. I treat you with the highest regard, my love. It wounds me to hear you be so bitter when this day made you so happy. Have I not earned some affection from your part by spoiling you today? Perhaps you need more from me’ his eyes took a lustful light, and you squirmed, shutting up. Which only earned you a smirk.

Once the bottle of wine had been finished, Chrollo got you water, claiming he did not want you to get drunk. You eyed the price on the bill, astonished that one meal could cost so much. But he merely swiped his card and closed the leather case that hid it from view, standing up and offering you his hand. You got up, walking with him outside.

The ride home was fairly silent, because you did not look forward to be back not knowing when you would get another chance at seeing the outside world, and Chrollo was focused on driving and palming your lower thigh. You looked at the sunset, lost in the orange and purple hues, completely enraptured by the beauty of it. It would be nice to stay out for a while longer, but you knew not to push the buttons. He had said art gallery and dinner, and that was what you had done. Now it was time to go home.

You wondered if he would make you sit on his lap and kiss him again tonight, as he’d done since your escape attempt. Somehow, the thought made you hot all over. Well, he had certainly seemed keen enough at the gallery, you thought, your cheeks hot.

Chrollo parked the car, leading you to the lift and back to the flat, where he locked the door with his stupid book and discarded his coat, taking yours off. You slipped off your heels, your feet sore from a day of wearing them, and started to head to the bathroom to change. If he wanted to make out with you, he could wait for you to get comfortable, as loosely as that word could be used in such a situation.

You had made it to the bedroom when Chrollo caged you in his arms, pulling you into him from behind you, getting your hair out of the way to leave languid kisses on your neck, his hands splayed on your stomach. You stopped dead in your tracks, giggling nervously, already feeling the effects of the wine and Chrollo’s touch getting to you.

‘Uhm- let me change-‘ you muttered, your eyes fluttering close when he started sucking on the junction of your clavicle.

‘There’s no need. I’ll peel it off you soon enough, darling’ he breathed against your ear, voice intoxicating, deep and sultry, and you squirmed, your heart rate going through the roof with the realisation that he wanted to sleep with you now. God.

No, you had to push him away. That was the right thing to do, right? He was... Chrollo, and his tongue was following your artery, and it felt like hell and heaven had combined, and you couldn’t think...

‘I’m tired of waiting. I am going to show you just what I can make you feel, darling. I’ll be so good to you’ he said breathily, hands cupping your breasts, fingers grazing your stiffening nipples. You choked a whimper, torn between the overwhelming pleasure and the equally crushing shame.

He groaned against you, pushing himself against your ass, earning another strangled yelp from you when you felt the hard bulge of his erection against it.

He whispered your name like a prayer, turning your head and kissing you hungrily, teeth sinking in your bottom lip, sucking, licking while he fisted your hair and turned you around, pulling you more into him.

Your mind seemed to shut off completely, taken over by the desire that had accumulated in weeks of torturing make-out sessions with no reprieve, to the point where your body was burning and aching for his touch, and nothing else mattered except the taste of wine in his mouth and the grip he had on you.

He pulled back, pupils dilated and eyes dark with lust, gaze lingering on your lips as he pulled down the zipper on your ribcage, greedily devouring you with a mere stare as you stood there, rapt and consumed by desire, your mind a blur.

He lowered the straps of your dress, pulling it down until it pooled at your feet. You burnt as his eyes trailed down your body, shameless and ravenous.

‘That’s even better than what I had imagined. Oh, darling, if you knew...’ he groaned, his hands immediately splaying on the expanse of your back, trailing down to squeeze and knead your ass harshly while his mouth was busy sucking on your neck, making you whimper as you clung to his shoulders.

He pushed you towards the bed, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, utterly deranged with pleasure as he licked the valley of your breasts, grinding you on his lap. You let out a moan, pulling at his hair, which only made him rougher as he slapped your ass and gripped it, sending a surge of pleasure to your clit.

‘Get on your knees for me, darling. I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock’ he groaned against your ear, and you swallowed, shame making your face burn. It was one thing to go with the flow and let him do things to you, quite another to actively pleasure him. But you would be a liar if you said the thought did not make you wet. And it was all unfair and humiliating and yet, and yet...

You pressed your lips together, yelping when your bra ripped under his hands and he threw it away.

‘I’ll buy you another one’ he groaned, pinching your nipples and sucking one into his feverish mouth, grazing it with his teeth until you were rutting against him, your hands cradling his head.

‘On your knees now, sweetheart’ he pressed, and you breathed in shakily, lowering yourself from his lap onto the floor, swallowing your shame as Chrollo stared down at you, taking off his jacket and shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his cock out, stroking it in his hand. Degrading as it was, infuriating as it was, he was so unfairly attractive. From the expanse of his toned stomach to the thick cock in front of you to the unruly hair that framed his face and the lust-laden grey eyes boring into you.

He let go of his cock to gather your hair into his fist, stroking your cheek and your bottom lip, pushing his thumb inside. You hesitantly sucked it, pressing your tongue against it, and he smirked, eyes gleaming with ravenous lust as he pulled it away and you wrapped your much smaller hand around the base of his cock, unable to touch your fingers with your thumb.

You stroked him, looking up at him as you tentatively licked the slit at the tip, and he let out a soft moan, his lips parting as his fingers tightened around your hair.

Emboldened by his reaction, you wrapped your lips around the reddened tip, tongue twirling around it.

‘Good girl, keep your eyes on me’ he breathed, looking dishevelled for the first time as you sank further in, licking the underside of his cock, hollowing your cheeks.

‘Fuck’ he groaned, his hips twitching, to the point where he reached the back of your throat and you choked a little, breathing hard through your nose. You weren’t even two thirds of the way in.

‘You can take it, darling. You’re doing so well. You look ravishing’ he praised, and you pushed a little more, tears starting to sting in your eyes, your lips wet with saliva as you struggled to keep your eyes on him.

You got a little more used to his size, and you managed to take a little more. What you couldn’t take with your mouth you made up for with your hand, rotating it slightly as you pulled back and forth on him, watching him start to breathe more unevenly, his eyes narrowed, the skin of his neck slightly flushed.

‘That’s my girl. You’re such a pretty little slut for me. I knew it’ he taunted, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but moan, continuing to pleasure him though it killed your pride.

He started to guide your head, not too forcefully, but he was definitely getting more eager as you picked up the pace and sank to his pelvis, tearing a breathless moan from him that made your panties even more soaked than they already were.

‘Oh, darling. My good girl. Fuck- I’m close. Keep going, and swallow, m’kay? Going to make you feel so good after, I promise’ he huffed out, and you hollowed your cheeks, struggling to breathe, tears running down your face as you kept going, until he stilled, his eyes closing, head facing the ceiling as he came in your mouth with a soft moan.

You swallowed heavily, panting as he slipped out of your mouth. He stared at you for a few seconds, his lips parted, his eyes narrowed with pleasure, before he pulled you up by your arm and threw you underneath him on the bed, kissing you, his hands roving down your body.

‘Such a good girl- let me return the favour, my dear’ he breathed, sucking on your nipples, straying down your stomach and spreading your thighs. You stared at him, panting and hot all over as he pressed his nose against your clit, licking a wet stripe along your labia over the wet lace of your panties. You let out a breathless moan, hips jerking against him, and he let out a soft groan, smirking at you.

‘How I missed this’ he murmured, pulling on your panties until they ripped, clearly unfamiliar with just slipping them off. But your quips were soon forgotten when he flung one leg on his shoulder and dipped his tongue inside you, kneading your ass as he flicked your clit and rolled it in his tongue.

You pulled at his hair, your hands catching onto the cloth of his forehead, which fell on you. He tossed it away, sucking on your clit, his hand snaking between your thighs, two fingers dipping inside you and curling, making you arch your back and let out a loud moan.

He started thrusting his fingers in and out, dragging them along your walls, his mouth keenly occupied with your clit, until you couldn’t take it anymore and started convulsing underneath him, trembling as he pinned you down and forced you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

He switched his mouth and fingers, his tongue slipping inside you, tasting you, his fingers rubbing and rolling your clit through the comedown of your orgasm, until you pushed him away when you started feeling too sensitive.

He wiped his chin with his mouth, sucking his fingers clean and smirking at you, the picture of debauchery as he gave you a sultry look.

He took off the remainder of his clothes, turning you on your stomach and lifting your hips.

‘Does my pet want a rough fucking? You deserve it, after all. You’ve been so patient, squirming on my lap for weeks’ he said against your ear, gripping your hip, his free hand wrapped around your throat.

You only moaned, and he must have been satisfied, because he pushed inside you, tearing a loud whine from you and a grunt from him.

‘Fuck, darling. You’re just made for me, aren’t you? Look at how you’re taking my cock, sucking it in, throbbing around it’ he murmured, immediately bottoming out and thrusting back in unrelentingly, making you tremble underneath him, your head dizzy, your face pressed against the mattress as he pounded into you, pressing into your g-spot straightaway, making you whine and keen for him. It was too much, all at once. You felt him everywhere, consuming you, making you see stars.

‘Chrollo- fuck- too much’ you sobbed, but he did not relent. He slammed against you with reckless abandon, long fingers still wrapped around your throat, his pants and groans echoing your louder cries.

‘You can take it, little slut. You’re my little slut, mh? Your pretty little cunt’s squeezing around me... could it be that you like that, darling? How filthy’ he taunted, but he sounded breathless and full of desire, and it made you feel obscene, yes, but also so so wanted. You had secretly longed for this for weeks, and now, you needed to feel him, needed to cum so badly.

But he slipped out of you and turned you on your back, slipping back into your sopping cunt and lifting your knees to your chest, pressing his body over you.

‘Fuck- Ahh- gonna cum!’ you sobbed, the new position rendering you completely helpless to his rough fucking that pressed against your g-spot and grazed your cervix, making you quiver underneath him.

‘Cum for me, darling. Show me how much you need me to fuck you’ he breathed, and you thrashed your head side to side, tears disappearing on either side of your hair, your mouth open in a silent scream as you came undone, seeing white, sounds fading completely around you, leaving you feeling only pleasure for a moment that felt like several minutes.

Chrollo grunted, cursing loudly, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss and drowning your moans as his hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking, his fingers curling on your flesh, sure to leave bruises as you felt warmth flood inside you.

He continued to push for a few seconds, head buried in the crook of your neck before he stopped moving. Your legs collapsed on the bed, and you struggled to calm your breathing, your throat dry, your arms loose around his back.

He rolled over to his back next to you, his breath starting to come out evenly even though you were still panting.

‘You were perfect, darling’ he murmured, stroking your hair, pulling you into his arms. You stared at the open window, the night skyline staring back at you with its blue lights and orangey glow from the windows of the buildings on the other side of the street.

Was this a life you could live? You did not know. The only thing you knew was that Chrollo had won.

[mysteryanimator]

Here ye here ye, another breaking down processes post from yours truly!

For this animation, my plan was to make something I'm proud of AND also something to force me to take my time since with all previous animation works they were all rushed. I normally tend to speed through work as someone whose illustrations are painterly and I like to keep them rough. Also lets be totally honest my other plan for this animation was to animate Mizrox being so sickeningly sweet.

Fun fact, this animation was going to be longer. I had tried to plan out Olrox climbing on top of Mizrak during the kiss to lay on his chest. There was an attempt trying to rough that out and several ref videos It was scrapped because for the life of me I could not figure it out. Also hypothetically if I was going to keep it, I would cut to another angle (perhaps Mizrak's face close up) and then cut to another angle that would make it easier to see that climbing over the top. OR, consider Olrox already sleeping on his chest (im just rambling now but this is basically 'if you were able to do this again' section).

I wish I actually went through a more proper tie-down process because the jump from going from my rough straight to clean was rough (badum tsk) for the first few seconds. Defintely learnt my lesson ALSO Olrox is surprisingly really fun to draw from behind.

I challenged myself to see if I could get the idea of "bigger movements, less in-betweens, smaller/slower movements, more in-betweens." Though the effect of Olrox rubbing his face against his arm may be a little too jarring and I steered quite a bit away from my rough and self-reference video in hopes of making the face rubbing more apparent because I thought the character acting was too subtle and wanted a contrast to the other half of the scene. I reconfigured my CSP animation workspace for this too so it definitely made the process less tedious when cleaning up the animation.

(Which by the way I do record a lot of self-references depending on the section! For things I can't do/uncomfortable doing, I'll end up looking up videos. It's the easiest for me to catch subtle things in body language and also get a feels for the motion.)

Also I'm really satisfied with Olrox's anticipation before his smooch and the shoulder roll at the end even though technically the arc doesn't complete itself. MIZRAK THOUGH, when cleaning up I realised my rough wouldn't make sense because he's already looking at him so there's no need for a turn, and then the lack of a shoulder movement felt jarring, so all of that was done without any thought, wish I did think about it more though.

Now compositing was a monster in its own right and basically me jumping back and forth between turning on and off different layers, but here are all the new things I did; I duplicated and blurred the lines of the lineart, beveled the shadows so it was lighter on the inside, and added a rim of blur so the focus drew towards the couple. Also will absolutely admit that my fanboy ass went "... be crazy and try to mimic the show." The final did not go that route because I thought it was more important to emphasize the mood/atmosphere (Also Olrox is intentionally stylized differently because i wanted him to be softer here and I had to give him eye highlights for plot HELP). THOUGH to say I did not try to mimic the style, the #2 lighting test was my 'attempt' LOL 😭 I can never consume media normally.

Here are the lighting tests I went through. I definitely knew I wanted to go with a morning vibe, though I tested out a night ver for fun and did some edge lighting which led to mixing both version #2 and #3 to make #4.

Fun fact, I almost went with #2 due to fear of getting too heavy-handed with compositing and therefore losing the animation (even though I really liked #4 at the time). Thanks to a friend, they also shared the sentiment of liking #4, though pointed out it felt like midday and encouraged me to make the colours warmer and deepen the shadows. It is a really tough balance but I think for a softer scene like this, the more additional layers of comp worked out in the end.

The edge light was a last minute thing because someone told me to add sound and to have light stream in. Also at this point I deadass forgot that you know, Olrox, is a vampire, but hey rule of cute overrules. We can pretend its light not from the sun LOL

Also yay I got to show off my own style a tad, I love paintingggg. It's not as completely fully rendered coz I knew that it would get covered up but I still made sure it was quite clean regardless. I didn't realise how much of it would be covered up even though I did make sure they would fit/make sense for bg LOL

Now we are done!

If you've gotten this far thank you! There's gonna be less frequency of these animations due to the semester starting back up soon and I don't get many opportunities to actually 2D animate (despite it being an animation degree RAH). Also I remembering cringing and laughing a lot when I immediately started putting colour down going "oh i can see the end of the horizon, i have too much power as an artist, people will see this i cant let them see me be crazy"

[Here's some memes I drew over while my friend was reviewing my work]

[veryberryjelly]

Karaoke time: tis the damn season, remus lupin

remus lupin x fem!reader

tis the damn season - taylor swift ( i love this song so much, stop- )

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

coming home during summer break was definitely not your favourite time of the year. you much preferred to stay up at university but you hadn't been home since christmas and you were only supposed to spend a few weeks there before going away with your friends.

you were certain that your mum had informed her friends of your return home, which in turn informed the entire town.

you were from a small town of gossips. everyone knew everyone and knew everything about everyone.

sometimes you just wanted to do something without the entire town knowing about it.

but you had never been granted that courtesy.

it got a million times worse when you started dating.

you learnt very quickly it was impossible to date in that town so you settled for only meeting people at university.

though that failed miserably.

until one christmas break during your second year at uni, you had met remus. a boy your age who had gone to a boarding school, which was why you never met him until he went off to uni and started going home for the holidays.

you had spent a lot of nights together during that winter break.

it was something amazing, but only for a few weeks. and you both knew and accepted that.

that didnt make it any easier to leave for uni every break.

but you relished the time you spent together.

you knew he was home for the summer, and while you hadn't made any plans, you both knew you were going to spend a lot of time together.

you spent your first day at home with your parents, but the next morning you met up with remus at a cafe in the centre of town.

the moment he walked through the door you were up out of your seat and it was as though you had never left eachother.

your day was spent wandering around town, more often than not with a coffee in your hand, catching up on what had been going on over the last 6 months.

you didnt talk much when you were both at school. the occasional message about when you would be coming back home, but not much information was exchanged.

you learnt that remus was currently at the top of his class, which earned him a muffin from you.

and when you told him you had been accepted for a job when you got out of school, he bought you a toasted sandwich.

you were shocked you didnt run out of things to say to him, but you didnt, eventually ending up back at his house while his parents went to a movie.

it was no surprise that you ended up making out on the sofa while a movie played on the tv.

the film had been bought with the full intention of watching it, but when you sat curled up in remus' side, he couldn't resist.

" i missed you " he whispered between touches of your lips

three simple words which sent alarm bells through your body, causing you to pull away from him.

you missed him too.

but you thought it was mutually agreed that you never talked about the prospect of seeing eachother more.

that you enjoyed the time you had and never spoke about it.

" i don't know what you expect me to say..."

" i mean, i kind of hoped you would say you missed me too "

" what are you doing, rem ? you know this would never work with us. "

" why not ? " he countered, growing slightly more passionate about the subject. " people make this work all the time. i could come visit you at school, we could meet half way...i just- i can't find anyone that makes me feel as.. alive as you do "

his words caused a burning to grow behind your eyes, which you tried to hide by ducking your head to avoid his gaze.

but he wasnt having it.

he lifted his hand to tilt your head up with his thumb and forefinger, delicately wiping away the tears from your cheek.

" why dont you want this ? " he questioned again, his voice soft.

" because i dont want to make you miserable. " you started, unable to stop the free flow of tears down your cheeks.

" i can't keep people close to me without ruining them. it's why i dont come home, it's why i dont have any friends at uni. its why i look forward to seeing you so much because i know i dont have enough time to ruin you. you are the only perfect thing in my life and i dont want to lose that " you rambled.

remus said nothing, instead choosing to wrap his strong arms around you and pull you close to his chest.

that broke you completely.

you let a damn break and the only thing holding you together was remus' arms wrapped tightly around you.

So we could call it even You could call me babe for the weekend 'Tis the damn season, write this down I'm stayin' at my parents' house And the road not taken looks real good now And it always leads to you in my hometown