#you may not be aware of this but this is the first ask i’ve gotten about my writing so i am fully 🥺🥰🥰 right now

[tojipie]

mma fighter toji? (im so happy tk see that you’re back btw ❤️)

i really do think this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten pls feel proud of ur brain before u go to bed tonight bc ily. wrote this on the verge of falling asleep if u see any spelling error no u did not.

mma fighter!toji x reader | 1k words

content: violence, injury, blood, reader objectified by stranger

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“you got it, you got—don’t fucking look at her, look at me fushiguro!” your boyfriend’s manager yells, holding a bucket to the younger man’s heaving chest with a sigh.

toji nods at the command, taking a swig of water and spitting into the vessel before wiping his mouth with an ungloved hand. fighters never drank in the ring, it’d only settle heavy in your stomach. make you easier to catch.

blood and saliva drip down his chin and onto the floor of the ring, bright red patters against black mesh.

you watch the veins in toji’s neck pulse underneath sweaty skin, decorated with swirls of black and grey ink. his tattoos extend down his chest and back, working to cover the mess of purple and blue bruises across his body.

on his rib lies a scrawl of your name, etched into his skin for millions to see every time he stepped into the ring.

the raven haired man says something unintelligible to his team before smacking his temple with his glove, almost as if he was trying to knock something back into place.

you cringe at the thought of a brain injury so early into his career. you’d heard stories before, world class fighters reduced to shells of themselves. shot memories, seizures, even paralysis. you try not to think too deeply about it.

the TV screens in front of you pan to across the ring to his opponent. ryomen sukuna, 2 years into his career with every title under the sun.

everything except heavyweight champion. the name belonging to the winner of this very match.

sukuna was terrifying, completely unfazed by the rivets of blood pouring from his temple and left nostril. you’d quite literally watched him pop his nose back into place during the first break after your boyfriend had dealt a serious blow to it. to say this man scared you was an understatement.

toji notices your anxiety, leaning against the mesh wall of the ring to look down at you in the front row.

“you watchin’?” he yells with a grin, barely coherent over the mixed sounds of cheers and boos.

you smile, though your boyfriend scowls at the onslaught of paparazzi trying to capture the tender moment. he spits at the see-through wall of the ring to serve as an unspoken “fuck you.” cheers ring out from the sidelines as the screens capture the interaction.

toji turns to you and pushes off of the mesh wall, throwing his hands out with a “tsk” and a shake of his head.

“you worried about me baby?” he teases, fully aware that the cameras are still on him. “you don’t gotta worry about me, right?.”

you laugh, motioning for security to shoo any onlookers off. the mix of adrenaline and attention was clearly getting to him, though you loved when he got cocky like this. he always fucked you hardest after a big win.

the two men settle back into the middle of the ring, the referee separating them with an stern arm. sukuna looks down at you with an unreadable expression, pinning you to your seat with just a glance. toji’s pink-haired opponent turns back to him with a sinister grin, taking out his mouthguard to speak clearly. you only manage to make out the end of his insult, blood running cold as his words register.

“..and after they give me that title? i might fuck that little girlfriend of yours, fushiguro.”

toji says nothing, expression blank. you begin to wonder if he even heard the other man, but the buzz signifying round 3 pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace for whatever may come next.

sukuna is a brick wall, but toji’s light on his feet, weaving in and out of punches with his gloves guarding his face.

he’s faster than usual, spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

he lands a kick to sukuna’s ribs, the sickening crunch reaching the front row right on impact. definitely two, maybe even three broke ribs you hear a fan spectate.

his opponent curses, landing two punches to his chest before knocking toji to the ground, just barely missing the raven haired man with a solid blow right as he springs upwards.

“you gonna fuck her?” toji scoffs, landing another kick to sukuna’s injured ribs. you can barely make out their conversation even with a front row seat, you doubt anyone in the stands has been able to understand them this whole time.

the pink-haired man winces on impact, his first show of weakness since the beginning of the match.

“huh? tell me.” your boyfriend muses, dodging a kick and throwing sukuna to the floor. cheers ring out in the stadium at the direct show of brutality, you cover your mouth in anticipation.

toji settles his body weight on the man below him, twisting his arm as far as it will go while keeping his face to the floor. his legs wrap around and under the second man, squeezing his injured ribs like a vice with his thighs.

sukuna lands a blow with his free arm, then another, then another. toji does nothing, holding his opponent down with a smile almost too wide, too sinister.

“fuck.. fuck!” sukuna yells, struggling under the weight of the man above him.

the crowd is in hysterics, the announcers are out of their seats. “an unprecedented burst of energy,” you hear them call it. nothing like they’d ever seen before during any of toji’s matches.

you have to fight off the ego boost it gives you, knowing he’s only fighting this hard for you. because another man dared to speak on your name in his presence.

toji takes a couple more punches with that same smile, finally grabbing his opponent’s free arm to render the other man motionless.

you stagger out of your seat, running into the isle to get a better view of the ring.

the referee crouches by the two men, waiting to call the match. sukuna shares a look with third man, groaning before tapping toji’s wrist three times.

the crowd is animalistic. screams, wails, jeers, all of it meshes together within seconds.

toji’s security forms a circle around you, leading you towards the ring as fans flood the isles in celebration.

that was it, he’d won the title. Fushiguro Toji, heavyweight champion.

sukuna is led out of the ring by his team, choosing to forego any post-match interviews. he doesn’t dare look at you as he passes you on the steps, humiliated beyond belief.

calls of your name echo out from the center of the ring, your boyfriend pushing past paparazzi to scoop you into his arms.

the heat from his torso melts into yours as he clutches you to his body. he’s sweaty, practically bleeding from every direction too. but he’s smiling.

it’s not the smile he puts on for press, a quick flash of perfect teeth to keep the morale light, keep his sponsors happy. not the sinister smile he flaunts during matches either, fueled by bloodlust and pure adrenaline.

not even the cocky smile he puts on for the crowd when the match gets tough, the one that gets his opponents mad, gets the crowd hit and bothered.

this smile is soft, private. a small show of love in a sea of flashing cameras and prying eyes. this smile says “i love you, I do this for you.”

you reach for his face, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. toji wipes the blood—his— from your lips with a calloused thumb, pulling your head to his chest with a soft murmur.

“i love you.”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

just need soft sex with jason

May have gotten a little carried away but ✨🔨🫠

—

Time written - 12:23 p.m

“I think I can walk just fine, Jason.”

Jason’s tone in response is lighthearted, playful even.

“It’s romantic, don’t you think? Carrying your girl to bed—” he pauses and chuckles at your expression, catching view of that eye roll while sipping your drink.

“We’d be like that painting of the angel holding a bride,” he suggests with a wide smile. “C’mon, not the first time I’ve done it.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle, tilting your head back in exaggeration. “Wow, look at you trying to be all cute and chivalrous.”

“Hey, let’s not downplay it. I thought I was being the most romantic guy ever,” he pouts, his expression turning faux-offended.

“I guess not,” he shrugs. “If you can’t appreciate that.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, acting as if he really is hurt. Then, without warning, he turns around to face you, broad hands clutching hold of you by the waist.

He hoists you up over his shoulder without hesitation, smirking from your sudden surprised yelps. He leaves your abandoned tea mugs behind, neglecting the lightswitch as he carries you down the hallway.

“I can walk Jase—!” Your amused beginning cuts off with an abrupt gasp when a firm palm smacks down on your ass, your shirt riding up over your curves.

“Can’t walk if your feet aren’t on the ground.”

“Jason!” Your annoyed tone didn’t last more than half a second before a smile breaks over your face. Chivalry was never dead with a man like him.

Your joyous fit of giggles merely died down after he gently sets you into bed, your head settling along your minor pile of unnecessarily comfortable pillows. Jason joins you without a second thought, his broad body comfortably caging you in. Any light from the hallway shadowed out once he floods your vision, enveloping you in a blanket of safety.

Then, without word, he presses his lips against yours, gently nudging your legs apart to snugly settle in between them. His breathing grows slightly rough, his braced hands grip tightly to the sheets as he feels your delicate little fingers find purchase along his back.

One of your hands trails up and down along his spine, causing the hair on his neck to flare up. He can already feel himself getting worked up, the hunger within him getting a little harder to control.

Jason spares a hand to roam along your minimally clothed body, running his palm along the soft skin of your hips and thighs.

A soft, little hum leaves your plump lips, his hand grasping along your soft, moisturized hip. The ache that bloomed in his gut desired more of those sweet noises, biting down on your tongue before rocking his hips forward.

You might’ve been just as eager as he was, your damp panties leaving a little impact against his navy sweatpants. The paired friction makes his waistband tug down, exposing the taunt v-line visible by lack of boxers.

“Jason,” you whimper out his name in the midst of him proceeding to litter your neck with kisses. He knows what you’re going to ask, he’s well aware of it. All he wanted was the green light to do it, one word to allow him this privilege.

“Yeah baby?” He murmurs against your skin, anxiously awaiting permission.

“Please.”

Such a gorgeously spoken sound, accompanied with a pretty bloom on those supple cheeks.

Jason groans as his body shivers. As much as he wants to control himself from going too fast, he wraps his arms around your legs, hoisting them up around his waist as he gives in.

With resuming where he left off, body hands running further up your body. You wore no bra to sleep, per his advantage. Pulling off the very shirt you borrowed from him to sleep in, he’s pleased with the sight of your breasts gently bouncing after momentarily sitting up.

“Oh my God,” Jason utters out in the midst of a groan, his calloused palms cradling both your sweet, glistening tits. “Mmm. Fuck, babe.”

You smelled incredibly good, like sweet honey cake dipped in melted frosting, sprinkled with toasted sugar. He’d fall asleep with his nose buried into your neck nearly every night, blessed with such a comforting fragrance off your warm body every morning.

You stuck to his memory as well as his clothes, every part of you tasting as sweet as your scent. The falsified rumors of the late Queen of France’s words held the most truth when Jason thought of eating you.

“Smell good?” You teasingly hum, biting your lip from his thumbs circling both your nipples, imagining your tiny hands in comparison to his rub luscious body butter along your chest every night after your shower.

“Smells fucking amazing.” He grunts, gently pinching both your nipples in between his fingers. Whatever smart remark you’re about to make dies in the back of your throat as Jason leans down, teasing your nipple in between his teeth. You suck in a deep breath, tangling your fingers into his messy black hair.

He’d help you take another quick shower after this, for now, all he needed was you.

Four fingers hook along your thin panties while assaulting your other nipple, your hips raising to comply with him pulling them off and down your legs.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason lowly groans from such a pretty sight greeting him from in between your legs, teal eyes heavy lidded with overpowering lust.

Jason shifts himself closer, raising your hips off the bed to rest further up along his lap. Both thumbs caress the smooth skin of your inner thighs before tracing around your puffy lips, one thumb nudging your clit before inserting two fingers into your pussy, pumping them at a slow pace.

Jason utters plenty of dirty, feverish promises as he pumps his fingers in and out at a quickening pace, his thumb moving in fast circles around your throbbing clit. He can’t wait to feel your rosy walls squeeze around him, muttering in between a handsome chuckle that your pussy is crying for it, gushing around his fingers so quickly.

Purplish plum colored hickies coat your inner shoulder as he draws a slow, modest orgasm from you, hooking his fingers with every buck of your hips, making you quiver and squeal.

Prayers composed of his name alone continuously leave your tongue, your pussy drooling as he removes his fingers, strings of arousal connecting between both digits. Chest heaving while Jason sets you back down, glazed over eyes watch his free hand tug down his constricting pants, pulling himself free from his confines.

He strokes himself with his wet fingers, further coating the tip of his fat, leaking cock with additional lubricant. He always knew you needed prep; not only wanted to, but needed to. He wasn’t being cocky (too cocky anyway) about his size, he was incredibly blunt about it when it came to the first time you had sex.

Even more so when he had been your first.

He never wanted you to hurt, even when the itch of impatience nagged at his brain to fuck you here and now.

His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers interlacing with your shower damp hair. To further stoke those flames, he parts your flushed lips with still damp fingers before shoving them in, tasting of salty precum and yourself as you run your tongue along them.

“Ohh, fucking dirty girl.” Jason mutters while watching, catching the crook in your lips form while sucking on his fingers. He takes your lips after retreating them, sucking on your tongue while lightly fucking himself with his hand, slicking up a majority of his length.

He guides himself closer, fighting back a grunt as the thick, heavy length of his cock rests across your slippery opening, sticky and sweet with arousal.

The both of you moan as he pushes inside, your walls stretching tightly around his girthy head. A low groan of satisfaction erupts from his chest while he sheaths himself in your warmth, his breath coming out hot and embarrassingly shallow through his nose.

“Fuck,” Jason mumbles before stifling a sharp whimper, fingers tightening on your hips in a death grip. “Shit, Princess. so goddamn tight.”

The heels of your feet digging into the back of his thighs, your nails drawing crescents into his skin. You want him as deep as he can possibly get, until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. The stretch is deliciously potent, a reminder that no matter how many times you do this, you’ll never fully get used to him. Neither of you would have it any other way.

He moves quite slow, rocking his hips in a speed that carries no pick up or roughness as he absolutely loses himself inside you. His lips roam all over your face, kissing away winces and mumbling soft apologies to your whimpers while you adjust.

Regardless of the pace, being stuffed full of his cock garnered pleasurable tears spewing from your eyes.

Your nails drag against his biceps, leaving raised lines along his muscles. He quietly pleads for you to dig deeper, desiring for his blood underneath your nails, wanting your marks to affect him for as long as possible.

The stinging pain has the desired effect on Jason, who spews out a sharp kiss as he thrusts into you hard once. The bed squeaks, the mattress buckling in the frame as it thuds against the wall.

A little cry leaves your mouth, your hips hitching up until your walls swallow him whole. Skin directly flush against skin, him buried so deep, kissing your cervix directly, his blunt head throbbing all against your sweet spots.

“Shhh,” Jason exhales against your cheek, both hands cradling your cheeks with eyes full of guilt from his impatient mistake.

“Shh, babe. M’sorry.” He reassuringly whispers along your lips, massaging soothing circles along your sides. “You’re alright, you’re okay. There’s my girl, my pretty girl .. takin’ me in so damn good.”

The gentle rock of his hips after a moment of rest isn’t subtle, much softer than either of you have had yet, but hot. So genuinely hot that the pure compassion between two star struck lovers almost makes up for the lack of speed. Two, aroused bodies taking in on such erotic pleasure as they made love for the first time all over again.

Jason catches your lips in a messy kiss as he plunges into you again and again, skin softly patting against damp skin.

Your lips travel along his sharp jaw, looking for the one spot by his ear that almost always makes him unravel each time. He tenses as you find it, cursing richly in your ear before grasping you closer.

“G-God fucking damn, Princess, you’re killing me,” he grunts out, growing a little louder before his voice cracks, gifting you a symphony of eagerly impatient whimpers whilst fisting handfuls of bedsheets, finally rutting into you just a little faster.

You can tell from the sloppiness that he’s close, and you’re not far behind.

You know every one of his weaknesses. Hell, you were at the top of that list, and it scared the shit out of him. Now, it makes him feel secure. And it’s in that security that he gives you everything.

His hips stutter as he fills you with thick, heavy ropes of cum, forcefully buried deeply with each staggered, drawn out thrusts. A cracked whisper of your name is all the warning he gives before flying over the edge, dragging you down with him shortly after.

You didn’t care if he finished first, all that mattered was the stark beauty of him that displayed across his face while he did it. Furrowed brows, eyes screwed shut in euphoria.

“I love you,” he chokes out, grunting heavily in your ear while hugging you against him for dear life, muscular arms slipping under your arched back, his pelvis rocking deliciously against your sensitive clit. “I love you I love you, I fucking love you—“

“I love you too,” you whimper out during a shudder, overstimulation creaking up and down your spine. You have him in a death grip, legs tangled tight around his waist, arms still tightly secure around his shoulders.

Your most favorite expression on him was the relief that followed after the euphoric tension diminished. Facial muscles melting as every inch of stress vanishes from his body, coupled with the satisfaction of doing so with the woman he so dearly loved.

His most favorite expression on you was the beautiful glimmer in your eyes after opening his. Gorgeous irises full of crystalline tears, tinted pink with satisfaction and awe of doing so with the man you so dearly loved.

[dilf-lover99]

And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first. 

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips. 

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you? 

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.” 

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.” 

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly. 

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you. 

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’. 

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!” 

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know. 

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin. 

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to. 

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

[biblio-smia]

I’ve never requested before so I’m sorry if I don’t make sense at all lol I’m nervous

But can I make a request for a Peter Parker x Reader? In which they’re classmates at school and he’s always had the biggest crush on reader (I’m talking years, since grade school probably!), and for whatever reason only recently had a burst of courage to ask the reader out? Preferably female!reader, but gn is fine too :)

i am so so honored that this is your first request!! thank you so much for it, this is so cute <3

everything happens for a reason.

to break or to build character, to test a person, to gauge a reaction. there's something expected from each choice made; there's something to learn from everything that happens.

there's been something like pulling in peter's chest for years now, when he really thinks about it. he was hooked from the very first time he saw you, wanting nothing more than to run up and introduce himself. his shy demeanor was in full-swing even back then, at the ripe age of seven; it took being seated together for the year for him to even wave.

peter parker can count the amount of interactions between the two of you on two hands (maybe three, if he includes eye contact made from across classrooms. and if he had three hands.) despite your proximity. your constant proximity. somehow, always at peter's worst.

like, for example, when you had asked peter for a copy of some notes when he had gotten caught in the rain the day before, thoroughly soaking his backpack and smudging the ink on every paper inside.

or the time when your family had moved into one of the houses down the street and you had watched peter's skateboard catch on a stray rock, sending him flying into the pavement and igniting aunt may's hatred for his board.

peter was always so constantly aware of you - which classes you shared, where your seat for the year was, how close your locker was to his.

despite his unwavering acknowledgement of your presence, you were practically a stranger.

sure, the two of you have talked. but the conversation has never really gotten past a "huh?" or a "sorry, i don't" from peter.

every single time, he's spent the rest of his day imagining different words coming out of his mouth, wondering if there was a certain string that would make you something more than acquaintances.

it was a code he couldn't crack.

10 years, six half-conversations, and a few smiles. that's all he's managed to accomplish.

but there's something that draws peter to you. your smile, your laugh overheard in the halls, the glimpses he catches of you leaving in a friend's car when he takes the trash out.

he can't get you out of his mind, especially not when you seem to be around every corner.

peter craves what he knows he can never have. the churn of his stomach and the signals in his brain telling him to run whenever you're around have made sure of that. you've taught peter parker that between fight or flight, he chooses flight.

but when peter wakes up with too much strength and a buzz in his body, something has changed - not just the ability to take out the faucet of his sink with a swipe of his hand.

he doesn't walk with his hood up in the hallways anymore, doesn't hunch to make himself seem smaller. he stands tall, back straightened, the air of something strange that he's never felt before surrounding him. peter thinks it may be confidence.

he hasn't been dosed with enough to go up to your door with flowers and movie tickets but he's at least able to work up the nerve to catch you after class.

there's clear surprise on your face as your eyes flicker to your friends, waiting for you, to peter - he's never been one to strike up a conversation with you.

"hey," peter begins a little breathlessly.

"hi, pete," you start, surprising yourself with the nickname. "peter. hello, peter."

to your relief, peter laughs. it's soft. it suits him. "hi. uh, how are you?"

the question takes you by surprise. you're not sure what you were expecting, but anything peter could've said would've taken you by surprise. you start to wonder if there's supposed to be something wrong. an answer peter is expecting.

"i'm... good!" you're laughing through your words. turns out, peter's wide smile is contagious. "how are you?" you're well aware of the t-minus six minutes you have to get to your next class but your legs don't make any move to walk away from peter.

"yeah, i'm also... good." adrenaline is coursing through peter, just like when he did impossible tricks and jumps in an empty lot. "i was... i wanted to ask you something."

"you already did," you joke.

"oh- yeah, well i mean... other than that," peter laughs. "i was gonna ask... if you wanted to hang out. i mean, not now. you have class. i have class."

"yes, we have class," you laugh. "so some other time."

"some other time," peter repeats.

"here." you tear out a piece of paper from a stray notebook in your bag and a pen, scribbling down your phone number as best you could before handing it to peter. "it's about time you asked, peter."

the warning bell rings and you're off, leaving peter stuck in his spot with a dumb grin on his face.

peter gets to class late but it's not enough to diminish the feeling that he's on top of the world, your words ringing in his ears. it's about time. have you noticed how long he's been on the bench, wishing he could make a move? his mind buzzes, wondering shyly if you've been thinking about him for as long as he's thought about you.

peter's only really brought back down when he accidentally shatters the back of the basketball hoop after taunting flash. who's idea was it to make it out of glass, anyway?

he's dragged by the ear when uncle ben completely embarrasses him in front of you - but at least his punishment is over. well, it'll be over after the suspension ends.

but peter feels like the world has it out for him as he holds his dying uncle in his arms, gunshot wound leaking warm blood onto him. he's crashing now, sobs racking his body as uncle ben goes still.

everything falls apart when the police hand over the sketch of the man suspected to have killed uncle ben and peter realizes it's his fault.

everything happens for a reason.

peter has gained something. but what did he lose?

[farfromstrange]

Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

 “Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves. 

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with. 

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.” 

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them. 

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say. 

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong. 

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece. 

“I love you too,” you murmur. 

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about. 

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing. 

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad. 

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door. 

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway. 

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks. 

“I ran out,” you say. 

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse. 

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too. 

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

[crheativity]

…YOUR CALL.

SUMMARY: The time has come for you to depart from Twisted Wonderland. Fortunately, it might not need to be forever.

WARNINGS: This is angsty, but with a happy ending!

COMMENTS: asdfjhgh writing via dictation is hard, I can’t think and talk at the same time apparently LOL, enjoy!

(Find part 1 here)

“What are you doing here?” Ace asked, suspicious. “Shouldn’t you be in tutoring sessions with Riddle right now?”

Ace and Grim were standing outside of Crowley’s office. He had been wondering why headmage had suddenly wanted to see him and Grim, and now that Deuce had arrived, he was even more confused. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong — at least, nothing worth talking to the principal about. And now Deuce was here too.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Well, I should be,” Deuce replied, “ but I suddenly got a summons from Crowley. Riddle agreed to postpone the lesson as this is probably a lot more important.”

“Yeah no kidding.” Ace crossed his arms. “Got any idea what we’re here for?”

“Not unless you’ve done something wrong.” Deuce grumbled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Hey! That was uncalled for. I’ve gotten a lot better lately.” Ace huffed and rolled his eyes.

That was true, Deuce thought. We both have.

In the months you’ve been away, a lot has changed. Deuce had thrown himself into his studies and his track team meets, Ace had started (reluctantly) babysitting Grim and focusing on basketball a lot more and Grim was trying harder than ever to become the best mage he could be.

Yet they never forgot you.

Every day, at least one of them would make the long walk to Ramshackle. They would ensure that the place was neat and tidy and that there were still snacks in the cupboard. After all, you were supposed to be coming back soon, right?

…Right?

No matter how hard they tried to contact you, they never heard anything from you. They never saw you online. You never sent that promised message that you were okay.

None of them wanted to admit it, but they were worried.

“At any rate, we should head inside. It’s just about time.” Deuce said, glancing at his watch.

“Do you guys think this might have something to do with…?” Grim interrupted nervously.

Silence. Ace and Deuce glanced at each other.

“Best not to get our hopes up.” Ace said cheerfully, though neither Deuce nor Grim could miss the strain in his voice. He hastily knocked on the door.

“Come in!” The headmage’s voice called out.

Taking a deep breath, they opened the door.

“Ah, how wonderful it is to see the three of you again!” Crowley exclaimed with a smile. He got up from behind his desk and made his way towards the three of them. “How have your studies been of late?”

“Er, fine, thanks.” Ace replied, awkwardly. He definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Excellent, excellent! No doubt due in some small part to my excellent guidance, no?” He clapped his hands together. “Ah, my kindness truly knows no bounds!”

“Um, headmage?” Deuce asked, “What is it that you wanted to talk to us about?”

Crowley grinned.

“Ah yes, about that. You see, I am a generous man.” Crowley laced his fingers behind his back and started to pace in front of them. “I care for my students—“

Ace snorted, and Deuce stood on his foot. Crowley shot a glare at the two of them.

“Ahem. As I was saying, I care for my students, and try to make myself aware of their behaviours on campus so that I may reward those who do good deeds and punish those who failed to comply with the rules. Are you following?”

Ace, Deuce and Grim shared a glance.

“Not particularly.” Ace replied.

Crowley groaned. “I am simply trying to express my gratitude for your continuing, and unwavering maintenance of the Ramshackle dorm, and for your continued hope in the magicless Prefect’s return.”

Their hearts sank. Was that all he wanted?

“Of course, such impressive dedication must be rewarded, no?” Crowley nodded, staring at the door to his office behind them.

“We’re getting a reward?” Ace asked, confused,

“Why of course! If you will turn around and look.”

The three of them turned around—

And gasped.

“Hi!” You grinned at the three of them. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t contact you guys sooner, apparently my Wi-Fi is different from your Wi-Fi so the phone didn’t wo—“

Before you could finish your sentence, two pairs of arms had reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around them, you held your two best friends close.

“I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too, Prefect.” Deuce mumbled, giving you an extra squeeze.

“Please don’t leave ever again.” Ace muttered, and Deuce nodded vehemently.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it for at least—“

“Henchman!”

Extracting yourself from the hug, you looked around to see Grim standing in front of you. tears sprung up in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Grim!” You began to make your way towards him, planning to scoop him into a hug.

“Not so fast!” Grim exclaimed. He was clearly very happy to see you, but someone had to maintain appearances. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, leaving your master on his own for so long!”

“What do you mean on your own, huh?” Ace retorted. “I’ve had to babysit you this entire time!”

“Yes yes, you’ve been a very good substitute henchman I suppose.” Grim waved Ace’s comments away. “But that does not excuse the fact that my henchman abandoned me!”

Ace scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Grim.” You did your best to appear contrite. “I’ll buy some tuna to make up for it?”

“Better be the best tuna Twisted Wonderland has to offer.” Grim crossed his paws, trying to appear angry, but the smile on his face, and the tears in his eyes, gave him away.

You scooped the cat into a tight squeeze. “Of course it will be.”

“Well then,” Grim spoke happily, returning the hug. “I suppose I can reinstate you as my henchman.”

“Job’s all yours” Ace grumbled.

“Ah, such a happy reunion! Aren’t I so generous, spending all that time finding a way for the Prefect to return, hm?”

You grinned. You’d almost missed the headmage’s benevolent speeches.

You sighed happily.

“I’m back.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[wayfayrr]

Hello! If I may, I’d like to make a request.

When I was little (between 4 and 8), my brother and I played Ocarina of Time constantly. It was our go-to game when hanging out. We replayed it and found all secrets and stuff. I was wondering if you could do a platonic self aware OOT!Link one shot? One where Link considers the player to be like a sibling to him since they grew up together in a way?

Thank you so much! I really enjoy your work ❤️

you're very welcome anon! this was such a sweet request to write!! I went with the post timeskip link for this seeing as I've already written one for Majora's mask link and I thought it would be more interesting to have that difference between the two pieces <3 I hope you'll enjoy this

[masterlist]

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while… do you still have that old copy of Ocarina of time we used to play together? I’ve been kinda wanting to replay it. It’s a bit of a pain to get a new one or an emulator though so…”

“Uh? I think so, I can check in my attic later and drop it around your place tomorrow if I can?”

“That sounds perfect, thanks for the favour man.”

That was a fairly productive phone call, now I hopefully won’t have to mess about with an emulator or shell out for the subscription to play it again. Seeing as Nintendo doesn’t want to make their old catalogue accessible. All I need to do on my end is to wait and possibly google how to set up an N64 in the meantime.

Turns out that we did still have the old thing, and that it isn’t all that hard to set up either so it’s not like it takes too long for me to hear the calmingly melancholic tones of the game’s opening theme. Our old save file is still there too, although some of the stats on the file seem to have gotten a little bit corrupted because I’m convinced we completed it fully. Although it’s been what like 10 years or more since I would’ve last played, it makes sense that I might just be misremembering things. No harm in seeing where we left off though is there?

Well even though the file says otherwise, looking through Link’s inventory really wants to disprove that - there’s something with the same sprite as Zelda’s letter where it should just be an empty slot. It’s not got a name, if I hover over it it simply brings up a missing value error and the button prompt me to read it. It’s not like there’s any issue if I did open it, it’s an old save file so even if it does corrupt I won’t lose anything. 

Nothing happened, just a fade to blank before it glitched out and the inventory screen popped back up so that I could close it and have a look around…

How did Link turn around as I was paused in the inventory and how did his face get so close to the screen?

“[Name]? I knew you’d be back at some point! I knew you wouldn’t just leave your older brother for good… you wouldn’t would you?”

“...How do you know my name..?”

I know that Ai has gotten incredibly good recently but this is an N64, an unmodded one at that, so whatever the hell is happening right now can’t be due to that. This feels like it could be the start to a creepypasta though with everything going on right now - is this like a real life ben drowned - no it can’t be, he’d be crying blood if it were the case and he wouldn’t be as friendly either. 

“Because you told me it all those years ago when you first played through the game? You always spoke to me like I was a real person, like you saw me as your older brother, so it’s only natural that I started to see you like a little sibling right? Then when you disappeared I got so worried, It’s been so long but you’ve gotten so much older! Did you pull the mastersword yourself, because this much time can’t have really passed can it?... Can it?”

He looks almost like he’s about to cry, I should be caref- why am I so worried about hurting the feelings of a fictional character? Is it cause he sees me like a sibling, a younger one; because he knows me from when I was younger; or because he seems so attached to me already? Maybe I should just… turn it off so I don’t have to deal with it.

“I don’t remember how long it’s been, a good few years at least, Since I’ve played it. I wasn’t exactly planning to-”

“Is that what you used to control me!? I’ve never been able to get a good look at it before. Would you mind bringing it closer?”

“...Yeah I can bring it closer.”

The way he interrupted me was so so sad, he’s forcing himself to be cheery when he looks like he’s about to break down, like how an older brother would act. He really sees himself as my older brother doesn’t he? I have to admit that the way he’s leaning against the screen like an excited kid is also pretty cute I won’t lie to myself, if it weren’t for how insane the situation is I don’t think I’d mind him being my younger brother. He’s younger than me now anyway so that makes far more sense. 

Is the screen cracking beneath him? 

It’s definitely cracking under his weight, there are seconds left before it shatters.

“It’s so simple and yet it was the reason that you were able to-”

Glass can only last so long. And now he’s out, lying on my floor in a shocked heap with glass shards surrounding and covering him. After a couple of seconds of neither of us knowing what to do, we both snap into action at the same time, while I try to help him up and check for any serious wounds… he’s just laughing with the widest goofiest smile on his face, grabbing at my arms like I’m nothing but a wisp of a dream. 

“I - wow I - I could never have imagined that I could - that this - that this was even an option for me…”

“But I can be your brother in person now can’t I?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whoa you like Nuada too? I can’t pass this up! Can you please write Nuada with a reader who is cheerful individual? I like grumpy x sunshine ships 😆 I feel he wouldn’t know how to go about it and more confused when he falls for reader (Gender neutral pls)

Of course I like Nuada anon! How could I not?! I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.🦦 also this is long as shit. I got carried away…no I won’t apologise.

Nuada first heard of you whilst being held captive at the BRPD through Nuala, whom had met you earlier that day through your mutual love of literature. And according to his sister you were a bright, bubbly, happy and warm individual who made her feel welcomed and included the moment she came to the Bureau; even going so far as to gift her with a poetry book with a cerulean blue cover.

It was actually a personal possession of yours but due to never haven gotten to read it, you had decided that it would serve Nuala far better than it ever did you. Nuala naturally refused to accept it but, you were persistent that she’d have it as you would rather have it be well loved and read than sitting on a cold, lonely shelf collecting dust.

‘They’re such a delight to talk to brother.’ Nuala began, clutching the poetry book with the cerulean cover close to her chest as though it were a priceless treasure, which to her it very much was.

‘They’re human dear sister, this persona they’ve put on is probably a trick, an illusions of sorts to lure you into a false sense of security.’ Nuada warns, not as trusting towards humanity as Nuala was. Giving? Warm? Welcoming? These were traits that the elven prince would’ve never associated with humans. Ever. It just sounded too far fetched to think that such a kindhearted and selfless person could ever have existed. Nuada only knew humanity for their glutinous greed, so such simple acts of kindness as gifting someone a poetry book, would do very little to change his perspective on the entirety of mankind.

Nuala frowns. ‘You haven’t even met them and yet you refuse to give them a fair chance. I understand your grievances towards humans but all I ask of you, dear brother, is that you learn to trust one, even if that one happens to be y/n.’ Nuala pleaded with Nuada, holding out on a spark of hope that with your influence, Nuada’s heart will no longer be veiled in shadows. Nuala truly believed that if anyone could come close to doing just that, it would be you, she just knew it.

Nuada merely scoffs at the notion his sister has in you being the one to unveil his heart of the pain and suffering. While he may have once bended to his twins every plea, this was one he could not find himself willingly doing so and the look upon Nuala’s face told him that she was very much made aware of that fact and wordlessly left.

Nuada wouldn’t get to experience you in your entirety until the BRPD decided that Nuada was trusted to head out on missions as your partner, they too also had some inclination that your bright and sweet persona would not only run off on Nuada but also soften his resolve against all of humanity; an request that would take a lot out of you.

‘You must be Prince Nuada. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.’ You said, barely able to contain your excitement at finally being given a partner. Sure the stories you’ve heard about the elven prince were…less then enlightening, framing him as an angry and vengeful being incapable of change, but the ones you’ve heard from Nuala however painted Nuada as a somewhat tragic figure.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother smile, if he even smiled at all.’ Nuala would say as a saddened look came across her face before she looked over at you when you abruptly grabbed her hand, face set in serious determination.

‘I’ll try and get him to smile more for you.’ You said.

‘It’s an impossible feat.’ Nuala counters but you weren’t having any of it.

‘Then I’ll just keep trying until I do, no matter how long that may take.’ You replied, staying strong to your conviction.

‘Why. Why would you go out of your way to do something for someone you barely even know?’ Nuala asked, feeling your strength, determination, heart and more theough just holding your hand alone. It was overwhelming of hoe bright you were that Nuala swore she would soon be blinded by your light alone, however it was because of your power of will that gave her hope, hope that you’ll might just do what she had long since believed to be impossible.

You merely smiled and relied with, ‘because even the strongest of us deserve to smile and like you said, you don’t remember the last time that you’ve seen your brother smile. So leave that to me and I promise to have Nuada smiling soon.’

And you always meant your promises. Always. What you wasn’t expecting was how handsome Nuada actually was. No one had bothered to tell you prior that your partner was a true beauty. A beauty with a piercing set of golden eyes and desirably soft, silky hair that fell past his shoulders in a platinum blonde waterfall. He held an air about him that made you both nervous and excited, however you had to quickly remind yourself that he wasn’t going to warm up to you nearly as quickly as you’d hoped.

Nuada on the other hand was immediately blindsided by your personality. It was so vibrant, colourful and filled to the brim with radiant life that he was certain that he looked rather dull and lifeless in comparison. It also looked as though his sister was right about many things in regard to your character, however that didn’t warrant Nuada to immediately start trusting you like she had wished for, after all you were still a human at the end of the day.

‘I’m-‘

‘Y/n. I’m aware.’ Nuada cuts you off abruptly before you could properly introduce yourself.

You made a face. ‘How-‘

‘My sister speaks highly of you,’ you began to smile at that but Nuada wasn’t finished, ‘but I have yet to witness what’s so special about you.’ You merely shrugged and answered with your entire chest. ‘You will soon enough. I promised your sister to get you to smile after all.’ Nuada’s brows raised at this but before he could get you to elaborate on that further, it was already time to head out for your first mission as a partnership.

Your first mission had turned out to be an avid success that it would only stand to reason to keep sending you and Nuada out as a team. You worked extremely well together and your fighting styles complement each others, while also concealing any weak spots that the other may have almost seamlessly. You and Nuada both complement missions in quick and swift succession. That was out in the field however, the way you acted towards Nuada afterwards made him feel a weird warmth within his chest.

You would often note of how Nuada fell a good distance behind everyone else after group missions, and so you would then fall to the back of the group also -not wanting him to be alone- before naturally falling into step with him, all the while still adhering to giving him his own personal space. You didn’t force a conversation with him like he expected you to, but instead allowed a calming silence to befall the pair of you as you headed home; Which was something he was oddly grateful to you for as he wasn’t that much of a conversationalist after battle.

However he couldn’t help but wonder why you were putting in so much effort into him. He hated your kind and yet you’ve treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. You didn’t push his boundaries, you didn’t overstay your welcome but even long after you left his side, Nauda could still feel your lingering warmth within every breeze that passed him by. Nuada just didn’t get why you were so hellbent on your promise to his sister, was it truly that important for you to help fulfil Nuala’s wish? And if so, what was it that she had said at the time for you that solidified your need to see it through film the end?

While Nuada had to admit, it was quite admirable that you kept to your word but some days he couldn’t help but question whether if that was your sole reason for sticking so close to him. Whether or not he’d ever confront you about it was his to debate upon later, but as for now he decided against it; His pride would never allow him to indulge in such thoughts and ideations that weren’t remotely relevant to hating humans.

Nuada had also noticed that after being your partner for a while, he had developed a need to protect you from all harm. At first he thought that if you died on a mission, the fault would fall onto him and he would be put back into confinement until further notice, but he soon learned that wasn’t actually the case; Far from it actually that he soon found himself sitting across from his sister to discuss about it.

‘Sounds like you have grown fond of y/n, brother.’ Nuala had said, smiling as she relishes in the times that Nuada obviously expressed interest in you without knowing it, but luckily that’s when the link they share makes situations like these a whole lot more simpler to navigate.

‘I merely find them more tolerable than others.’ Nuada defends, crossing his arms over his chest, still heavily in denial that anything he felt for you could possibly go beyond the realms of being cordial with one another. Yet that didn’t explain the sting in his chest whenever you were as joyful and excitable with anyone who wasn’t him, almost as though he wanted you to only beam that bright for him and him only.

‘Then why do you feel at peace with them near? Has their light finally unveiled your heart?’ Nuala asked and this time Nuada stayed silent for a longer period of time as he was beginning to realise that yes, you did infect have unveiled his heart from the shadows he cast over it. What scared him however was how you had done it. You constantly showed him patience during the times where he needed it, showed him understanding when he talked about his feelings, something he hadn’t done as much before meeting you; you even showed him solidarity for the times where he needed someone to stand by his side.

You had changed Nuada’s way of life in small but meaningful ways that there came a day where he starts to hate the fact that he had come this far without the gentle guidance of your voice for him to follow unto a better path. However despite acknowledging that you play a pivotal part in his current life, doesn’t mean that made Nuada’s understanding of his feelings any clearer than they were when he first discovered them.

‘They make me feel things I’d never thought I’d feel again Nuala.’ He began, knowing that whatever he said to his sister would be kept solely between them. ‘I’ve been lost admits my need for revenge that even the fluttering in my chest, or the warmth that reaches my cheeks feels foreign to me now.’ He adds, taking the time to remember the first time he felt something towards you that wasn’t explicit hatred for being human. ‘It feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time and I can’t help but become addicted of sorts, that whenever they smile at me-‘

‘You hope that they smile at you like that forever.’ Nuala interrupts her brother softly, already quite well acquainted either that feeling from the times she felt Nuada’s emotions through the link.

‘Yes.’ Nuada said in an almost whisper. ‘I wish to be the reason y/n smiles as much as they are mine.’ Nuala couldn’t help but express her happiness for this new stage of Nuada’s life, all she wanted was for her brother to be happy and she was made even happier at the fact that it was you who made him the happiest he’s ever felt in a long time.

‘We shall get through this together brother.’ Nuala reassured, feeling her brothers’ still prevalent confusion, making Nuada look back at her, ‘then soon everything else will fall into place. You just have to put faith in the hope that y/n will be there to catch you when you fall.’

Nuada was still confused about everything but with hi sisters help, he hopes to surely get a clearer understanding of what he was currently feeling before confronting you about it.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

WIP teaser

I got myself a lovely little request over a week ago for a Nurse!xBuck fic. Well, hi, it’s me, can’t not take that and run with it straight off the edge of the known world. I don’t even have a fixed name for it yet but I’ve been enjoying AU-ing our familiar faves to death with it

MOTA Pacific Theatre AU: yeah, you heard that right. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Iwo Jima currently happening or maybe it’s my ongoing crush on Ensign Jane Kendeigh, or -more likely- my subconscious awareness that nurse OC’s are a pretty favorited bunch for fandom writers, so I’ve found myself mixing it up entirely.

We’ve got Navy Flight Nurses and we’ve got Lt. Commander Doc Egan and co-pilots Cleven and Demarco who aren’t too fond of having to fly cargo planes full of wounded out of war zones all due to flight surgeon John Egan’s special request to have Cleven chauffeur him around. Oh yeah, and somehere in here there’s a developing thing between Cleven x oc Nurse!Ensign Maureen Kendeigh

TW: blood? Use of the word “Jap”

…

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his station, then past it to poke her head between the pilots’ seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a bloodied toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Thank you, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

[gayerthanevertbh]

infidelity | futile devices pt. 1

pairings: fuckboy!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

summary: you and wanda have been best friends ever since you were little babies, and you’ve went through a lot with her. in august 2019 when you met wanda’s girlfriend, natasha, you completely fell in love with her. what happens when the three of you create a love triangle that could possibly ruin everything?

warnings: intense staring, infidelity, and nothing much since it’s only the start of the story.

author’s note: enjoy the first part of the story! what do you want to happen in the next part? let me know!

Years ago, before I knew what futile devices were, I met Wanda at kindergarten in our small town in New England. She started out as a bully, but after we ate lunch together, I knew we would become more than just a bully and a victim. Since then, she has protected me, especially from those who didn't like me very much. I may have had a crush on her at first, but I was aware that if I said anything inappropriate, our friendship would end. I couldn't stop myself from having a crush on Wanda Maximoff at the time. She was a tall brunette with big green eyes who always tried to protect me. We've been through so much together as best friends, and we even shared our first kiss because no one would dare to kiss me. Wanda, on the other hand, always saved her first mind-blowing kiss for me, and it was surprisingly good when we did it. I recall her saying, "There you go, now you can kiss anyone in this room," but that never happened. I was too afraid to be in a relationship after witnessing Wanda's, which was not particularly good.

She told me the meaning of futile devices while we were in the park together. “Beyond words,” she says. “Futile means vain, pointless. In other words, if you want to say your love for them, you can’t. It’s just too much.”

“Is that supposed to be romantic?” I asked, she only lets out a controlled chuckle before drinking from her flask.

“Sure, if you want it to be.”

Since then, I knew that I could never describe my love for Wanda – because it was too much, too impotent, and vain. If I say it out loud, what would she do? Perhaps she would leave me in the air, possibly never speaking to me again. But knowing her so well, I knew she wouldn’t do that to me. It was still scary to say it out loud, and I’m sure that I could never say how much I love her – no matter how painful it could be.

We stayed friends until we graduated from high school together. Wanda had a boyfriend named Chucky, and I was with Brandon, my date because he was the only boy I could find. Brandon was with me the majority of the time because I didn't want to be alone this summer. I suppose you could say he was my first boyfriend with whom I never lost my virginity. We split up when our first semester began. When he left me, I didn't feel too much emotion; in fact, I was relieved that he did. Wanda asked why I was always smiling when she brought me chocolates after my breakup.

“Aren’t you sad that Brandon left you?” I shook my head, eating the last piece of chocolate bar in the wrapper. “You’re so weird, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your weirdo.”

She only laughs, agreeing with a nod.

“Yes you are,” she said. “Let’s just watch a movie, yeah? We still have to study tomorrow.”

Months later, I was working at a bakery shop while Wanda was trying to learn to be a bartender since it’s always been her first dream job. I did like my life for a little while, working at a bakery shop was the best thing that ever happened to me. Wanda did like hers since she came home with a drunk look on her face. When August came along, we started to become distant from each other. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve gotten so busy with my job and my school work, and she was always out since she has a new girlfriend. I never expected that from her, dating a girl. I mean, I always knew that she was bisexual, but it was unexpected when she told me that she was truly in love with this college girl from a different university.

I was a little jealous because Wanda had been spending too much time with her instead of with me, and if I had to lie to myself, I'd say I was happy for her - but I wasn't. How could you choose someone you met two months ago and decide to leave me hanging? What happened to both of us? This isn't going to last, I tell myself. That was something I had to tell myself in order not to get hurt. But every time she comes home, I get the impression that I'm no longer number one in her heart.

In the third week of September, Wanda decided to bring her girlfriend over to our apartment, with our two friends from the university. While I was preparing for dinner, our friend Peter and Kate was at the door. I opened it slowly and gave them a big smile on my face since I don’t know what other emotions I should use.

“Did you only invite us because Wanda has this amazing hot girlfriend?” Kate giggled, which I nodded in response. She knew that I was joking, I never thought I have humor.

“Are you also excited to meet her?”

“Hey, maybe she’s nice!” Peter exclaimed happily, walking towards the dining area as he sits beside Kate. “It’s only the right time for Wanda, I mean she always has this boyfriend or girlfriend until she’ll break up with them two weeks later.”

“She seems like a green flag,” Kate said. “Aren’t you happy for her? You guys have been best friends ever since you came out from your mother’s vagina.”

I chuckled, “We met at kindergarten.”

“The point is, you should be happy for her. I know you’re still in love with her–”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“-But maybe you should start moving on,” she finishes herself, sighing deeply. “I have a dude for you, his name is Steve. He’s in my class.”

Will this guy help me move on from Wanda Maximoff?

“Oh yeah? What does he do?”

“He’s apparently taking medicine, which means he’s also not available. People who take medicine are always busy, like extremely busy.”

I turned around, shrugging my shoulders. “So what’s the point of me dating this guy then if he’s not available?”

She mimicked my shrug, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I was just suggesting–”

“Thanks for the suggestion but, I’m good being on my own.”

I’ve always been on my own, even though Wanda was always around.

30 minutes later, I heard murmuring from the other room, and I realized Wanda had brought her girlfriend, who had caught my eye. She was tall - but not too tall - and had her hair tied in the back of her head; she also had green eyes like Wanda, but hers were darker, so I couldn't see the details of her pupils. When the woman caught my eye, I turned away and hugged Wanda briefly, asking, "So this is her?"

“Yeah,” she replied. “This is Natasha, my girlfriend for a month.”

I cast a quick glance at Natasha and shook her hand; it was calloused but not too rough on my skin. She smiled warmly and said, "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. Wanda has told me lots of stories about you.”

“Like how I’m such a bad friend?” I said in a joking matter, watching as Wanda playfully rolls her eyes. “I’m glad you can make it, how about you sit down? The food is ready.”

I returned to my table and sat beside Wanda while Natasha was in the opposite direction, her eyes roaming all over the place. I assumed that she was enticed by our home since it was full of framed paintings and a telephone from the corner of the room – it wasn’t working, we just decided that it looked nice in our apartment.

“So where do you study, Romanoff?” Kate asked while drinking from the wine glass that I bought from a dollar store. Natasha sighed and placed her fork on the plate, slowly chewing the food.

“I study at Columbia,” she responded quietly. “I met Wanda at my university, and we hit it off right away.”

“But aren’t you from NYU, Wanda?”

“I just had a quick visit at the university, to see if I still had other options.”

“Were you ever going to tell me that you’ll be studying at Columbia?” I asked, trying my best not to show defectiveness about this conversation. “I thought we agreed to study together and graduate in the same school together.”

“That was the plan, and I want to study with you,” Wanda said, sighing through her nose. “I was just looking at my options. If I didn’t end up studying at NYU, then I’d study at Columbia.”

“But if you ever did study in Columbia, were you going to tell me?”

I was hurt by this information since Wanda knows that she was my only friend, and will always be my best friend. Before we even started college, we both agreed that attending the same school was the best option. I guess she changed her mind after meeting Natasha, who appears to be my nemesis. It’s not like I didn’t want the best for her, but her going to the same school as I made me feel like I was important to her. I would say I’m a little self-centered.

“Of course,” said Wanda with a small smile on her face, holding hands with Natasha. “We still live together, you know? What would be a harm studying in at another university?”

She was right, she has always been right.

I caught Natasha's gaze while we were eating and talking about physics, which I dislike talking about because I despise science. Her eyes appeared... hungry. But I couldn't assume she wanted me that way because she had Wanda, so I shifted my gaze to Kate's. But I could still feel her eyes on me as if they were glued to me only. When I returned my gaze to her, she was staring at Wanda. As strange as it may sound, I liked how she gave me those stares in her eyes because no one would ever stare at me like that.

“What do you study, Y/n?” Natasha asked, eating a forkful of meat that I had just baked in the oven.

“Literature,” I replied quietly, placing my foot on top of the other since I feel like I’m having anxiety talking to this woman who looks like a senior. “You? You seem like a person who doesn’t study.”

“And she speaks,” Wanda giggled, causing everyone to laugh too. “Who taught you how to talk back, missy?”

I shrugged, “Just myself.”

"Photography, in case you were wondering," the redhead replied, wiping her mouth with a tissue as she drank a bottle of beer that I had opened for her. "I photograph places, people, and a variety of other subjects. That’s why me and Wanda are a match, she likes photography.”

There was no way I'd ever match this obnoxious, self-centered, narcissistic individual. I wouldn't call her a narcissist, but she certainly has the appearance of one. Plus, why am I thinking that I could ever get with her? She clearly has those lovey-dovey eyes on Wanda; not me.

“What year are you in?” Kate chimes in, looking at Natasha with curiosity in her eyes.

“Fourth year,” she said. “This is my last year, actually. After that, I might move back to Ohio.”

“Why Ohio?” Peter suddenly asked. Natasha only sighs in response and takes another drink from her beer, smacking her lips together, as if she doesn’t know what to say next or do. Yet, she still replies in that husk tone.

“I have a family there,” she slowly responded, looking briefly at Wanda and then towards me. “Wanda says you’re from Ohio too, that’s where you two met.”

“That’s true,” I said. “But we moved to New York shortly after high school, I’m not technically from here.”

“It seems like it, you don’t have that New Yorker accent.”

"But Peter does," Wanda laughs as she pours herself another cheap red wine and swirls it in her glass. "How do you like living in New York?" It's as if we're in our thirties, but half of us are only in our twenties, and Natasha is almost in her late twenties because Wanda told me her age.

“It’s great,” he says in a positive tone and clasped his hands together on his lap. “The rent is expensive, but it’s all good. I still like the smell of the air here, it never gets old.”

“New York isn’t the most ideal city,” Kate chimed in again. “But you know, they have good schools here. My parents are billionaires, so like I don’t really have to worry about rent.”

“I wish I lived in your life,” I murmured, smirking at her playfully, which Wanda saw and felt uncomfortable in her seat. Was she jealous? “You have billionaire parents and live that rich life, I’m just a girl from Ohio who is incredibly in love with her job.”

“Didn’t you say you work at the bakery?” now, Natasha’s eyes were on me as she spoke. I slowly nodded my head before taking a sip from my wine glass, licking it between my lips. “Do you like working there?”

“It pays the rent, so yeah.”

After dinner, Peter and Kate said their goodbyes and returned home, leaving just me, Wanda, and Natasha on the couch. I was scrolling through Tinder on my phone when I noticed Natasha giving Wanda a head massage and kissing her on the forehead. When I see them do this, especially right in front of me, it makes my stomach churn. How did Wanda find someone so quickly and not me? Why isn't she head over heels in love with me? Why can't I be the one? But if I keep comparing myself to this woman, I know I'll end up feeling terrible.

“You guys should get a room, you’re making me want to vomit," I muttered under my breath, turning off my phone to get a better look at them - but that turned out to be the most sickening thing I've ever done because I was watching them kissing sweetly right in front of me, causing me to stand up and walk back to my room. I went to bed with my lights turned off after a quick warm shower and skincare routine. They were either going to kill me or that girlfriend Wanda had brought into this apartment. Throughout this eventful evening, her eyes were on me instead of Wanda’s – which is kind of suspicious.

I took a deep breath and rolled over on my back, clasping my hands together as my palms sweat. I'm not sure what was wrong with me; I just had this strange feeling about Natasha. Something thumped inside of me when I met her. I sighed and whispered, “Futile devices, how ridiculous that sounds.”

And it truly does if you think about your best friend’s girlfriend.

it gets real in the next part lol

[kodaiki]

꒰ 8:45 P.M. ꒱❛ miya atsumu x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

“you don’t get to just do that!” you scold the taller man, feeling your cheeks flush hotter than they already were.

roommate!atsumu stands tall in front of you, crossed arms over his chest as he looks over at you boredly - boredly! he has the audacity to act nonchalant in the middle of getting an earful from you!

“do what?” he asks, jutting his chin out in feign innocence.

“do what-" you scoff, repeating him. “you third wheeled my date!”

“wasn’t your date the dinner?” atsumu asks skeptically, putting a hand to his chin in thought. “i didn’t third wheel nothin’.”

you groan in frustration at the blond. miya atsumu may be your roommate and best friend, sure, but you wanted to strangle him ninety-nine percent of the time.

you’d gotten back from a date just an hour prior, bringing your date home along with you since he (and well, you didn’t mind) wanted to continue after your reservation at the nice spot in the center of town.

“you can’t seriously by playing dumb right now,” you mutter, turning away from him as you trudge back over to the living area where coasters and a near empty (mostly atsumu’s doing) bowl of chips are settled on an end table. first, you put the coasters back in their place on the lower shelf of the table for the next time you have company — thanks to atsumu though, you don’t think that’ll be soon.

then, grabbing the bowl, you walk back toward the kitchen where atsumu’s leaning against the counter, closely watching your movements.

“the first date i’ve had in months and the guy’s never gonna call again,” you continue muttering. it’s toward your roommate but you’re not exactly talking to him, more like talking into the air, well aware he’d catch it.

at your less frustrated expression, atsumu's original playful and mischievous gleam in his eye dissipates. you look more solemn, shoulders hunched as you do the dishes in the sink – after all, it was your turn to do the chores.

“to be fair, i don’t think you’d want a guy like that calling again. to have to be told to take off his shoes when entering our home? i can already tell what sort of man that is,” atsumu huffs, remembering the way the man so casually stepped into your apartment, following you, watching you slip off your heels – heels atsumu knew you hated wearing since they always left a blister at your pinky toe – and just, waltz in without taking off his shoes.

“he apologized!“ you quip back, glaring at him over your shoulder. “maybe he’s raised different.”

“sure.” the faux blond rolls his eyes as he recalls the way the man (now come to think of it, atsumu doesn’t even remember his name) apologized quickly to you when he’d been the one to tell him to take off his shoes in a rather dry tone. apologizing for the sake of it, atsumu thinks, because just two minutes after walking in he’s asking for some wine. asking!

“he was nice all night and you were being so hostile and interrupting us,” you chide, going back to scrubbing a plate in the sink.

“he was nice to you,” atsumu clarifies. “man didn’t like me the second he walked in-“

“-demanding a man to take off his shoes isn’t exactly a polite hello,” you cut off knowingly but atsumu continues anyway.

“-so of course i was hostile.” not to mention, atsumu wants to add, the way said man stared at his dear, beloved roommate as if she were a meal, only melting her resolve with sly compliments and an innocent act. “he gave me weird looks,” he settles on instead.

“can’t imagine why.”

he could tell the minute your date walked through the door, charming smile gracing his lips as you stepped inside, he had more plans than just dinner and some home snacks. nah, atsumu thinks with a sneer, he wanted dessert.

but damn, if atsumu’s chest didn’t swell with pride and confidence at the slight falter in your date’s reaction to him, a roommate you were vague talking about (so vague you didn’t mention it was a man at all).

it helped that he could tell the guy was a sleaze, finding any excuse to set the mood; drinks, a rom-com playing on one of the movie channels of your cable box, shutting off the lights. yeah, atsumu had fun barging through the living room of your apartment every fifteen minutes, claiming he needed something, either from the kitchen or the living area itself.

atsumu walks up next to you, holding a hand out. it’s a subtle attempt to lighten the mood, helping you dry the dishes as you wash them, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“you probably made him feel uncomfortable,” you pout, passing him a mug to dry.

that was my intention, he thinks. “by just bein’ me? hm, i think that’s a him problem then.”

“still, he wasn't being outright rude to you, or me! he-"

"right, because he was nice," atsumu drawls out, rolling his eyes.

"yes," you answer, matter-of-factly. "nice."

"these quote, nice guys, aren't it, gotta tell 'ya." he crosses his arms as he sighs out, looking as if he knows all, as if he's about to give you some wise words. good thing you know he's miya atsumu so you don't expect too much.

"oh yeah?" you muse, light smile curling one side of your lips, a reaction he was hoping for.

"definitely. it's all a facade covering up all their severely red flags. 'ya need a guy who can tease ya, make fun of ya, y'know the type to laugh first when you fall and then ask if you're alright."

"oh, so someone like you then?" you stifle a laugh at his blatant autobiography. you don't notice the underlying meaning of your question when you ask it but atsumu does.

he freezes for a second, glancing at your genuine curiosity. "y-yeah," he stammers, grateful that you don't catch it, reaching up to put away a dried bowl back into a cabinet. "someone fun. not "nice"."

"an asshole," you reveal with a teasing lilt, awaiting his response. atsumu whips his head toward you, brows furrowed at your insinuation. at the playful gleam in your eyes, all frustration settled between your brows fully gone, he relaxes.

"sometimes," he clarifies, looking down at you amusedly.

"mm," you hum out in disagreement. "i think it's always."

"yeah?" he tests, raising a brow at you. "didn't i bring an umbrella to your job so you wouldn't get stuck in the rain?"

"fine, fine." you brush him off, waving your arms.

"or that time i bought you lunch 'cus you forgot your bento?"

"i get it-"

"driving you home from that god awful date you had three months ago?"

"atsumu-!" your voice is pitched higher in embarrassment, remembering the circumstances.

"what about the time i saved you from a nice guy who probably isn't so much of a nice guy?" his voice is quiet then, looking deeply at you.

your mortified expression shifts into a softer one, absorbing his words. although atsumu came off as a prick ninety percent of the time, he really did have your best interest at heart — even though your best interest could only satisfyingly be him.

“he talked about his workout routine all the way here,” you mumble out of nowhere, feeding into atsumu’s perception.

“i knew it!” he snaps his fingers and looks at you victoriously. “that’s total douche behavior if y’ask me. dodged a bullet, doll.”

you sigh out a laugh, lips curling up at his eager expression. “guess I did. besides,” you pause, bumping his shoulder with yours, despite the height difference. nothing but an affectionate tone slips between your lips and as it seems, you’ve forgotten whatever you’d been annoyed at him for. “i think i’m keen on a particular asshole in my life anyway.”

✿ reblogs and interaction always appreciated !! ✿

[dragonrider9905]

Celebrating You!

Hi guys! I’ve been on here for a bit now and while I never had a follower goal, I do appreciate you guys who have decided to follow me! So now I’d like to celebrate you!

In light of TBB ending, and how much we'll be missing the boys, I thought this was as good as a time as ever!

Here’s the idea! I’m opening a prompt request for the dates of April 5th through May 5th, 2024 (you may start submitting now though!) and choose from the prompts below! You can choose one from each category, or just one category. It’s ok if it is just the prompt or the prompt and a brief idea. If you have a fun idea or prompt not listed, please share!

Rules: I only write SFW. I typically write for clones; I reserve the right to refuse requests which make me uncomfortable for whatever reason. I have had a few requests in the past that really unsettled me for various reasons. Or if I don't know the character. I'd hate to try to write something then upset the person because it is so ooc that it's cringy. (But if I said I would write your request and haven't yet, I just honestly haven't gotten to it :D I like to do well on the stories you guys entrust to me so it does take me a bit :D)

This is supposed to be fun so lets keep it fun!

You may submit as many requests as you'd like! The more the merrier!

Characters: Star Wars Clone Wars or The Bad Batch (as long as I know them. I know a lot of clones but alas, not all.)

Story genre:

Classic SW! (Pick an era if they exist in more than one if you wish)

AU of choice (modern, western, pirate, mermaid, time traveling, etc if I’m unfamiliar with the genre, I may have to change it or request more details)

Dialogue Prompts:

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“If we’re going to do this we’ll need—“ “A plan?” “No! Code names! Cool ones!”

“I don’t need to be anything to you. I just want my life to mean more to you than my death.”

“You are playing a dangerous game without even a glimpse of the rule book.”

“I’ve never been terrified of death, til he set his sights on you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” “Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask that in this situation.”

“Where’s your shoe?” “The giant mud puddle in the road demanded a sacrifice.”

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist.” “Then how else do I describe the feeling I got when I first saw you?” “You…love me?” “Apparently not, according to you.”

“A fate worse than death….” “They’re burnt cupcakes.”

“White paint has more color than your face.”

“Why is there a dragon in my fridge?” “It was hot.”

“Touch **, and you’re dead.”

“I am the law.”

“Do that again and I’ll throw you out the window. Wait, what are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is; seeing if it’s worth it.”

“I’d rather have you hate me than loose you entirely.”

“I have a mission but don’t know what it is.” “Well that sounds incredibly counterproductive.”

“I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties in your life.” “You are the worst at this comforting thing.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this but I’m quite petite.” “Really? I had no idea in our twelve years of friendship that you’re shorter than I am.”

“But what is power?” “Loyalty.”

“Don’t you sign to me in that tone.”

“I’m with him/her for better or worse.” “It’ll probably be worse.” “I knew that the day I met him/her.”

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you." "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

"C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you."

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"The only one who gets to kill you is me."

“blood loss”? well it’s not lost. I know exactly where it went. right over there.”

“How the mighty have fallen!” “It’s a dropped chocolate bar, stop being dramatic.”

“Shit, we’re gonna die” “Now I don’t want to hear that negative attitude, look on the bright side!” “Yay! We’re gonna die! Woo!”

“How do you do it?” “How do I do what?” “Pretend you are ok.” “I’m not pretending.” “Yes, you are. Every single day and it breaks my heart.”

“Hey, so I know things are pretty f**** shitty right now but I need you to breathe for me.” “Wha-wh-wh-” “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be ok. Just breathe with me.”

“Please, my arms—I can’t wipe my tears, don’t let them see!”

"Smiles are contagious!" "Don't worry, I'm vaccinated."

"I don't want to get involved, it's too risky." "Please do it for me, you're the only one I can turn to." "It's not worth it. You really want to lose everything? 'cause I don't."

"Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?" "No"---a long pause---"actually yes, at Christmas time"

"There is a reason I go through that door first, It's to make sure everyone else walks back out"

“I can’t leave you here!” “You can and you will.”

"OH! Are you alright? Are you alright?" "Apart from being trapped under here, and maybe suffering from broken bones and embarrassment beyond what I am capable of handling. . . I'm dandy, why do you ask?"

Oh no, are you alright? You're covered in blood!" "Yes, it's yours, Now will you please let me take you to the hospital?"

"What did love ever do anything for anyone anyway?"

"What the hell were you even thinking?!" "You told me not to think!"

"With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it was all worth it. There's no greater gift than love."

“'Temporary stitches' all stitches are temporary if you have a pair of scissors and aren’t a coward" "What do you....that better not mean what I think you mean......" "Am I just talking about sewing stitches or sutures too? Maaayyybe?" "NO! Absolutely not!"

"I made the calculations, and boy am I bad at math."

"It'll be over soon, I promise."

"Working together again, just like old times." "Well, not just like old times."

"I am many things but not your enemy."

Action Prompts:

Forehead kisses

Palm/hand kisses

Dramatic rain scene

Touching foreheads

Jealousy

Dancing

Last stand

Christmas/Life Day celebration

mistletoe

Accidental hand touch

First date

First kiss

Spending time with the family

Bad day cheering up scheme

Pranks

Going to a pet shop

Going to the movies

Always go after the girl

soft spoken person has loud, unnerving scream.

Lullabies

Nightmares

injury

amnesia

pretend/mistaken to be married/in a relationship

cooking

[askablindperson]

Hello, I am a writer who wants to write about a character with Lebers Congenital Amaurosis, and I’ve been struggling to find resources or descriptions on what vision is like for people with that condition. If you’re okay with it, could you describe what vision is like for you? Thank you and have a wonderful day! And sorry if you’ve already been asked this a million times.

Hi! Thank you for asking, and I would be glad to answer. I know what you mean, too. LCA is still somewhat common in the blind community, but I have also found quite a lack of resources to explain how it works to other folks. LCA is rarely included in any of those blindness simulation filters, either, though those also aren’t perfect representations.

A quick disclaimer: most of what I will share here is based on my own personal experience as well as the other blind people with LCA I have personally met in the trends I have observed in the community. I’m not a medical professional though, and I really don’t know that much about how these things pan out statistically Speaking.

First, one thing you should know is that LCA is progressive. It tends to be very slow and steady about it, and it took me 10 years to notice that I had had a significant change in vision which I only fully noticed in the last few months, but it is progressive, so it will inevitably get worse over a person’s lifetime. It just might take its sweet time getting there, and you won’t notice any overnight changes. at least not in the folks I’ve known, or in myself, or in most of the literature I’ve seen discussing it. There may be outliers though that I am less aware of.

The other thing I will say is that most of the other blind folks I have known with LCA actually have significantly less vision than I do, usually being born with little more than light perception and often losing what’s left of that light perception within their first few years of childhood. so a lot of them are totally blind as adults, or still only have light and shadow perception.

As for mine, at least in my experience, I seem to be somewhat of an outlier in LCA, in that I’m quite a high partial case. I believe I’ve been at least legally blind since birth, meaning my visual acuity was at least 20/200 or worse with some visual field issues also, but I’ve always had quite a lot more residual vision than most of the other folks with LCA I have met personally. Not all of them though. When I was a young child, my visual acuity was probably around the 20/200 Marc, but now at 27, my better eye is at about 20/650 and the worst eye is somewhere in the ballpark of 20/5000. Don’t ask me how they can even measure it when it gets that severe lol.

In practical terms, the way I have always described my vision is that it’s a lot like looking through a fogged up mirror when you get out of the shower, a foggy window in the winter, or the super blurred out background in a movie. You can make out plenty of shapes and colors and lights, and you can get a vague sense of what a lot of objects might be, but there is no detail and it’s extremely blurred out. if you happen to wear glasses, I often say that it’s like a lot of folks without their glasses on, but amped up to 11, and that’s even WITH my glasses. Without them, it’s even blurrier, though I don’t really wear glasses much anymore.

That description is in reference to my better eye, mind you. The worst one is so much worse that I can rarely make out actual objects with it or even silhouettes of people. It’s still colorful and everything, but the blurriness is significantly worse to the point that the eye isn’t really useful.

For me personally, as I have gotten older, my central vision has actually deteriorated a little bit faster than my peripheral vision, so I can ironically see a little clearer out of the corners of my eyes then I can looking straight ahead. I don’t know how common this is amongst folks with LCA, especially since most of the folks I know only have light and shadow perception where it’s harder to measure that, But that’s how it is for mine. It wasn’t like that as a child, I would have considered my central and peripheral vision to be fairly similar most of my life, but in the last 10 years, my central vision is noticeably worse now than my peripheral. if I look at a ceiling light through the corner of my eye, and then shift my eye so I’m looking at that same ceiling light to the center of my eye, it is instantly blurrier, like a little foggy film was put over it.

Also, at least for me, I have quite a few blind spots in my vision that impact my overall visual field. Contrary to what those vision loss simulation filters will have you believe though, those are not represented by black spots or white spots in real life. They’re just gone. Think of it sort of like Photoshopping somebody out of a picture. If they are standing in your blind spot, it’s not that there’s a blob over top of them, it’s as if that section of the picture was just cut out, and the two halves around it smashed together as if that part was never there. It’s just missing.

In actuality, everybody has a blind spot, even people with no vision problems whatsoever, so you may be able to get a better understanding of this by researching the general Blindspot that everyone has. I just have more of them because pieces of my retina have completely deteriorated and died off from my disorder.

The discussion of central versus peripheral vision and the blind spots applies to both of my eyes, but like above, just a lot more severe in the eye that’s worse. It’s not quite to the point where it only has light and shadow perception, but it’ll probably get there in the next 10 years or so. I’ve never leaned very heavily on that eye because it’s always been the much weaker one, but these days it is a little bit funny to see just how wildly different the exam for my right eye is compared to my left eye nowadays.

Lastly though, that does finish up the description of what my vision actually looks like, but I do want to leave you with one final note of consideration, which is not to focus overly hard on exactly what your character sees when writing them. At the end of the day, most of us who have been blind our entire lives don’t really go about our days actively paying attention to exactly what we can see and what we can’t, or thinking about what things look like through our eyes at that moment in time. We’re just living our lives with the vision we have, because we were born this way so it’s our normal, and sometimes focusing on it too much in the writing can cloud the characterization more than it helps.

All of that said, I do hope that this provides a useful framework. Mostly, my vision is just ridiculously blurry and really only gets a tiny bit less blurry with glasses, with a few holes punched here and there for good measure lol. To be honest, when I’m spending time with other blind people, we don’t actually usually spend all that much time describing exactly what each other’s vision looks like to each other or anything—it’s usually not exactly the most interesting thing we want to talk about—so I don’t know how common my specific details are to others with LCA. But that’s pretty much the long and short of my personal experience, and hopefully it can be useful when understanding your character.

[myobsessionsspace]

I felt the need to write this in light of soo many asks I’ve seen throughout Chapter 2

The crux of the asks that got me here are “I don’t see many moments around Jikook anymore” “We need more Jikook moments” “I don’t think Jikook are close anymore, xx/xx have more moments than them”

*credit to all original owners of art & media

I just want to share *my thoughts*...

How did we meet Jikook?

Some of you may have known of them since debut, some since Blood Sweat & Tears, HYYH era, Dynamite, Butter or even most recently in Chapter Two.

However you became aware of them, you would have also been aware of their group. The reason for their current status. To know Jikook you must in some capacity know Bangtan.

I say this because to have gotten to know Jikook, it would have been through the group using videos, Bangtan Bombs, Bon Voyages, In The Soops, concerts, all of the above, some or none at all.

(I won't mention those that only know Jikook through fanmade edited Tik Tok, fanmade YouTube edits etc.)

We learned more about them as idols, as members, as friends and as brothers. All of what we learnt we learnt with the approval of either the members or their company.

The only other ways to have learnt about them without either theirs or their company’s approval, would have either been through paparazzi, stalker/sasaeng info, fictitious YouTube videos, rumours, guesses and assumptions.

Unless it came from the members directly, from their company, interviews, their music or their filmed content, it wasn’t meant for public consumption. It was most likely not in the members best interest and not in their control.

Now I’m not going to judge our consumption of the above mentioned ‘unapproved’ content. I myself have enjoyed and shared many sighting photos, concert videos, stories from people that had met them etc.

For example when Jikook were spotted heading to Tokyo, prior to that, their private schedule had actually been released, allowing some to know that the two of them had indeed planned to travel alone. They're private concert viewings of other idols & groups, their private cinema and dinner outing and more. This was enjoyable information for jikook fans, supporters and shippers to know but also scary information for the two’s safety, when in the wrong hands.

After their return from their private Tokyo trip that Jungkook organised and paid for as a gift to Jimin, Jungkook published a beautifully directed, edited and produced video of their trip. His first ever Golden Closet Film. On his terms we got full in colour, with meaningful (the permission to use Troye Sivan's song, again paid for by Jungkook) background music, a glimpse of their private trip, through Jungkook’s artistic eye. He shared with us his perspective of what he saw and how he felt felt during their private trip.

I give GCF Tokyo as an example, when we wait for THEM to show US, we get soo much more than 144p blurry images, mistranslations etc.

We get it straight from them, exactly how they see it or how they want us to see it, exactly how they feel it, or how they want us to feel it.

How do we stay with Jikook now?

They are on group hiatus, meaning we just had the last of the Run Bts’ for a while. Bangtan Bombs are now focused on solo endeavours not the group as a whole, to see the group dynamics at present, no group concerts, videos, interviews etc.

Therefore we no longer have company approved content. We still however get member approved content, such as when they go on live, Weverse interactions, music etc.

We still get ‘unapproved content’ such as stalker/sasaeng footage, paparazzi pictures & info, fictitious YouTube videos, rumours, guesses and assumptions.

However with the group just recently celebrating their 10th year anniversary, they are no longer new to idol life, they have learnt from their past, they have reduced their circle. They have increased their security, they are internationally known and more recognisable even with hats, masks & baggy clothes. They also have more money and access now, access to private jets, private rooms, private villas or even just getting whatever they want or need to the privacy of their own homes, no longer shared with a 7 member team.

They no longer have to leave the dorms for a change of scenery, after touring the world, after sharing a form for years, staying home could be said to be their change of scenery at times.

So it’s understandable that the ‘unapproved content’ would be massively reduced in comparison to if they had embarked on Chapter Two 5 years ago.

So we no longer have a lot of company approved content (yes of solo endeavours but rarely of more than 2 members at a time and rarely repeatedly), we don’t have as much ‘unapproved’ content.

What do we the consumers have left?

What the members show us and what the members tell us.

What have the members have shown us/told us?

Since Chapter 2 Jungkook has shown us that he had initially been enjoying down time. Rightfully deserves after training and working since the age of 13/14!

He went through puberty working in the public eye, away from home, away from his parents. Most westerners know how that turns out for some child stars. Bleak. Jungkook has shown the strength of his character by being able to maintain his humility, joy, humour, care for others & love for ARMY.

We know about his down time due to him sharing this with us through his weverse lives. Straight from him, not the company, not sasaengs but him. And we enjoyed it! We love our hours long late night lives with Jungkook. We’ve gone boxing with him, eaten fried chicken with him, sang & danced with him and even most recently had him fall asleep with us TWICE!

Isn’t content straight from the members soo much sweeter?

Jimin, whilst Jungkook was having his down time, was flying all over the globe and in and out of the company's studios & offices. He was having intense music camp like periods with producers and practicing for his solo debut. He didn’t share with us more than a couple of pictures here and there with different producers, but when he did launch his FACE promo and subsequent videos & album, we were and still are GAGGED. Jimin KILLED K-POP in 2023 and DOMINATED (and still is) the industry.

The wait well worth it and we LIVE still!

Jikook

Though the loss of official content for some feels like a Jikook drought, some feel like the loss of official content somehow now means the loss of Jikook’s bond, relationship, whatever you may believe it to be.

Some feel as though the lack of official Jikook means they never were all they felt them to have been. There are a number of things I have seen and heard in regards to Jikook since Chapter 2.

But what have JIKOOK themselves shown us. As I said before, aside from ‘unapproved’ content, which is severely reduced as the members are older, smarter, richer and wiser, we can really only truly rely on the members themselves.

Jungkook

With his downtime, as I said earlier, shared his boxing training, his eating, drinking, watching tv and sleeping with us.

However what did Jikook share with us when Jungkook was boxing?

What did Jungkook share with us when singing?

What did Jungkook share with us on white day?

How sweet was it to see his face light up with each of his interactions with Jimin? How fun was it to watch him stan over Jimin’s music? How cute was if to watch him uwu over Jimin’s interviews?

Jimin

We know had been super busy in being involved with every aspect of his solo debut.

His solo music was and is soo important to him. It was his priority in Chapter 2. However he never failed to show his support with his presence via the comments on MANY of Jungkook’s lives.

Not only that but the biggest gift to ARMY, Jikook supporters and Jungkook was Jungkook’s presence on an album that Jimin clearly stated in multiple interviews had no features. Jungkook’s name is in the credits and his do ring voice cannot be denied, but apart from the credits and the vocals, Jimin has never mentioned Jungkook’s participation.

I guess they really mean it when they say ‘You are Me & I am You’

Letter to *me* is Jimin’s GCF Tokyo. A labour of love, showing us the thoughts, feelings and emotions, this time not through video but through song.

What Jungkook & Jimin have shown us in Chapter two is MORE than enough for me, it’s just as sweet and even sweeter than any ‘unapproved’ or approved content.

If you still need more from them, that is not for their benefit, with their interests in mind or to cement their bond/relationship. That is your issue to deal with.

Whenever you feel like you need ‘more’ from Jikook than they’ve already allowed you to have, go back and watch their labour of love GCF Tokyo (heck pretty much all of the GCFs including Saipan), go back and listen to their labour of love ‘Letter’, go back and read their interviews.

If all of that is still not enough, it’s a you problem.

Not a them problem.

🖤🤍

[midnightsun-if]

I’ve gotten a couple more asks in my inbox since the previous one last night that caused everything— I hesitate to call any of this discourse because I don’t want to sound dramatic— but I’d like to make this all-in-one post, that’ll be going in the FAQ, to settle this. Hopefully, I won’t get too harsh, and I apologize in advance if I do, or if I sound angry/annoyed, I’m just trying to stand firm, as I’ve previously mentioned, when it comes to this topic.

I’ll put the entirety of this underneath the cut— as I don’t wish to subject people who don’t wish to read it to the long post.

(I’ve shared screenshots beneath the cut… So, warning to anyone who may not like to see those when regarding this topic.)

I’d like to begin this by stating that I’m only annoyed, or somewhat vexed rather, with the ones that actually sent me these asks— I’m well aware a good majority of them are trolls, at least I hope, but I still felt like this would be a good time to simply collect them, make a one-and-done post, and then (hopefully) move on from this subject. As I’m, and I’m sure all of you, are tired of this topic— especially since it seems like a fairly cut and dry one to understand in the grand scheme of things.

Now I’d also like to say if you’d like to send me questions about expanding on Scarlett and/or Koda’s sexuality— what it means to them, why I decided to go that route, etc— you absolutely can! I’m more than happy answering them (though I may not be able to answer everything given spoilers). I’m not barring anyone from sending me anything, not that I truly could as free will doesn’t work like that, but I do hope this makes at least a couple people get the answers they need before sending in something. (And even if you do and need something explained a bit more? That’s completely fine!)

Onto the more gritty stuff…

Scarlett, and I’m mainly going to be mentioning her as this has been directed solely at her, but it also applies to Koda as well, is not a character simply for you all to romance, to have sex with, to be arm candy, etc. I’m well aware that’s not how the majority of people view her, but I thought I’d specify that regardless. She’s a character because of her own impact within the world, because of her own nuances, because of who she is… She works just as well as an RO as she does anything else. Am I excited about exploring her romance route? Absolutely. But, I’m even more excited about exploring Scarlett herself— backstory, personality, motivations, etc.

At the end of the day?

She’s Scarlett first before she’s the MCs anything.

Below are a couple of asks that I’ve received on this topic (older):

I saved these when I first got them because I was truly baffled by them and wanted to show my friend to see if I should do anything about it (just decided to delete them)…

Again, I’m aware these are more than likely nothing more than trolls, but I’ve gotten at least a dozen of asks ranging around this topic, that I’ve deleted because I didn’t think it’d become this much of an issue that I’d have to address in this manner, and I’d like to say to anyone that may think you can do this: No, you can’t.

Scarlett is a lesbian. I get that may disappoint some people, but there are seven other characters to choose from when it comes to romance. As I’ve mentioned before— Scarlett wouldn’t be Scarlett anymore if I decided to just make her romanceable for everyone. At that point there would’ve been no point to change her from the original character I had designed to fill her “slot” in the RO Cast.

Again, this isn’t everyone and I bet this isn’t even the vast majority of the individuals that are actually disappointed by Scarlett not being for everyone.

As for making Koda for F!MCs instead? Why would I do that? Barring the fact that he’s gay? Why do your potential problems with not being able to romance Scarlett suddenly outweigh the problems that F!MCs would go through by suddenly having that option torn away? It’s gross to even suggest doing something like that.

Below is one of the most recent asks that I’ve screenshotted to showcase what I mean in general:

I’m aware that I’d probably get some more readers if Scarlett would be accessible to everyone, but I truly don’t get this notion that Scarlett is somehow the supreme RO above all the others. I adore her, adore her route and character, but the others offer things too! They have their own special nuances that Scarlett doesn’t (just like it’s the same for her too). Not even going to comment on the interesting RO comment, as I feel like that’s intentional baiting (more so than the rest of this message).

I also wouldn’t want to cheapen my own characters, as well as the experiences you all can get with them, for more attention— I’m happy with the readers that I have right now. If I get more? Great! If I don’t? That’s also completely fine too. Because, at the end of the day, I know that I’m making the story and characters that I know I’ll enjoy making and that you all would enjoy reading.

Why not just let them?

Probably because Scarlett’s sexuality actually means something? More than simply keeping her from all of you? Like a lot of individuals seem to assume (a lot referring to the ones that sent these types of asks in)… Again, Scarlett isn’t a character just for you to get your rocks off. If you can’t respect that, how the hell would you ever actually respect her? And if you can’t even garner that basic amount, why would I ever let you romance her? (Not that I’d ever change my mind. Scarlett is staying exactly as she’s meant to be.)

I apologize if I’ve turned off readers from Midnight Sun because of this post, but I’ve been wanting to get this off my chest as this all started building up. I truly do appreciate all of you— and I can sympathize with the people that get a bit disappointed at finding out Scarlett isn’t for them: I.E. me with Miranda Lawson— but that doesn’t mean I’m going to change an integral part of who Scarlett is, pretty much taking out a chunk of what makes her Scarlett to begin with…

I’m sorry if I come off as overly harsh in this, but I hope I’ve been able to make my points firm and clear. Scarlett, and Koda, are staying as they’re designed right now— nothing, and no one, is going to change that.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.