#title inspired by mitski

[melzula]

All I Ever Wanted

pairing: zuko x reader

notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !

summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince

The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.

“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.

“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.

“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.

“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”

“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”

Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.

“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”

“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.

You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.

Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.

“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”

“Then why doesn’t Dad?”

The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”

Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.

That is enough for him.

~~~

The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.

You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.

You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.

“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.

“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.

“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.

“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.

“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“

“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”

“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.

“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”

“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.

“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”

Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.

Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.

~~~

The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.

The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.

The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.

So he does it for you.

“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.

“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.

“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.

You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.

Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.

“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”

“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”

“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.

“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”

“You love me?”

“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.

You can be happy.

~~~

You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.

“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”

“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”

You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?

You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.

Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.

“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.

“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."

“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.

“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”

“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.

“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”

“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”

~~~

The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.

“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”

“But-“

“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”

She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.

His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.

You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.

The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.

After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.

“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.

“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”

“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.

“I don’t love you.”

“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.

“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“

“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”

Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”

“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”

You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”

Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.

“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”

“I…”

“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.

“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.

“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”

“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.

“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.

“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”

Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.

“Who told you such nonsense?”

“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”

After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”

“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.

“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”

His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.

You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.

You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu

#melzula writes #request #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #azula #ursa #ozai #angst #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

[stsgluver]

summary. rich boy!gojo's instagram feed

wc. 400

tags. fluff

dynasty [rich boy!au]

lovesick satoru who’s entire instagram feed is you.

he's never been covert with his love in real life, so it's no surprise his online persona is no different.

prior to your relationship, his instagram had been very minimalist - mainly compromised of just highlights. there was only one proper post: a photo of him and geto in suits for an event that they both had drunk too much at to remember. his highlights were organised: one for the stray cats he found, one for the constellations he'd see late at night, and a third of the people he cared for (this one could only be seen by those on his close friends list).

then there is you.

satoru is the first one to publicly launch your relationship - it's a soft launch of you staring up at a waterfall he'd taken you to for your second date. your face isn't visible, and compared to satoru's infamous status, you were relatively unknown so only those who knew the two of you well could identify you properly. he posts that on his story with mitski's 'my love mine all mine' playing in the background and creates a new highlight for you (he titles it 'my girl').

he doesn't post often on his main account but, when he does, nine times out of ten, it's you or a photo you'd taken of him (his spam is daily pictures of your life together of course). for the first time in his life, satoru has found love through his own means and not through his parents so he adores to showing it off (much to his father's dismay - matching onesie pics with his girlfriend wasn't exactly screaming 'heir to the gojo fortune').

although satoru's instagram isn't public, his affluent position in society and popularity does mean that he has several thousand followers to his name (many of which being female). it makes the two of you giggle when one of these said girls tries to slip into his dms despite the fact his account is a literal shrine of his love for you.

in response, he'll add the girl to his close friends and post a picture (usually of the two of you kissing, sometimes just you) to his close friends. once the girl has seen it, he'll block her off of instagram and all other socials she may have contact with him on.

satoru is devoted to you and he wants the whole world to know it.

a/n. this was inspired by @bbyjackie (I LOVE THEIR ONE PIECE WRITINGS SM)

#rich boy!gojo #— toru!! #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo jjk #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #jujustu kaisen #satoru

[sunfyresrider]

First Love/Late Spring - Chapter One

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Summary: You would do anything he asked if he said he loved you, but his heart belonged to someone else. Tags: Angst, unrequited love, miscommunication, arranged marriages, fluff, Lo'ak being Lo'ak, sibling jealously. I think that covers it but if I missed anything lmk! Translations: Lor - beautiful, Sa'nu - mama, Evi - child, Skxawng - idiot, Kehe - no, Sanhi - bioluminescent freckles Author's Note: First time writing for this boy/fandom, so critiques are welcomed. This was heavily inspired by Amy x Laurie's relationship in Little Women and Mitski's song (the title of the fic)

“What is wrong?” Lo’ak inquired, watching you pace inside of your marui. You forgot his presence inside your tent, too busy letting your thoughts consume you. “I am a failure,” you huffed out. You had never been as good as your sister at little things, you blamed it on your big fingers. 

She was better at you than everything, always the jewel in your mother's eye. Tsireya could bead, braid, heal, sing, dance and was exceptional at all of it. Her personality was so soft, kind, gentle and wise… Everything the future Tshaik needed to be. It was no wonder the boy you admired from afar preferred her., You probably would too.

You weren’t jealous, at least that’s what you told yourself, It was never her fault. There were perks to being second born: lack of expectations, no overbearing parents, and freedom to do almost anything you wanted. Your mother was still encouraging you to mate with Txayì, seeing as you were the last of your siblings to be promised to someone. 

He was an amazing friend, thoughtful, attentive and extremely dutiful. Txayì always did what was asked of him with no complaints, something you could not fathom doing. In truth, he was far too good for you, and he deserved someone who wasn’t pining after someone she could not obtain. 

You’ve loved Lo’ak since he first arrived at your village seven long years ago, running from the sky people who hunted his family. He wasn’t a mighty warrior like his brother nor was he outwardly charming like his father, but he had a strong heart. Lo’ak brought excitement to your life, adventures you would have never dared to go on before his arrival. 

His human nature, jokes and quirks, are what made him so endearing. You loved his lopsided smile that curved upwards when he found something amusing, the way he used his hands when he talked. It was no secret that your eyes followed him when he walked by, that his voice made your heart flutter or the way his dark hair fell into his eyes. 

If Lo’ak asked you to jump off of a cliff with him, you doubted that you’d have the sense of mind to reject him.  Thinking of him in this way made your heart ache, an invisible pressure on your chest that refused to abate. It was your feelings for him that made you miserable for most of your life. Your crush that you buried, unable to move forward with any other man as long as he lived. You would never want to confess it; he was in love with your sister.

Every moment they spent together slowly broke down your resolve, your infatuation growing into something you couldn't ignore anymore. It seemed Ewya took noticed and decided to ease your torture, cease the pain momentarily. Tsireya had found a mate, one that both of your parents adored. She seemed to have no quarrels about marrying him and leaving Lo’ak behind. 

Both of you were destined to never be able to be with the ones your heart desired. “I am no mighty warrior, amazing singer or dancer. I am mediocre at best… at literally everything.” You turned on your heel, outstretched your arms, “Tsireya can do it all, sing, dance, braid, heal and everything a Tsahik should be. Aonung is a great hunter and warrior, destined to be Olo'eyktan. I’m just the second born, forgotten child with no clear path.” 

You lowered your arms to your side and let out a sigh, trying to find some air that wasn't saturated with the weight of your troubles., You were hopeless. “You know, you are way funnier than both. You could be a comedian or jewelry maker- ow!” You slapped his hand, stern eyes boring into him. “I’m being serious, Lo’ak… what’s a comedian?”  

He rubbed his hand, acting like it was actually injured and not just a playful slap. “It’s a human thing. Listen, I think you’re grossly underestimating how cool you are.” You scrunch your brows at his comment, not sure if you were being complimented or insulted.

Lo'ak's expression turned serious, watching your features closely, “I’ve been second best to Neteyam all my life and after the incident with Payakan my future isn’t looking too bright either.” He pressed his lips together, a forlorn look in his eyes, the one you grew up seeing whenever his brother's name was mentioned.

You let out a deep sigh, “but you swore he isn’t evil right? When the clan realizes you’re telling the truth, you could be known as the first Ttulkun rider and become legend… I want to be great or nothing at all.” Lo’ak‘s brows furrowed together, “so you believe mating with Txayì will bring you to greatness?” 

 “Don’t make fun. I think it would make my parents proud of me at least.” You watched him cross his arms across his chest and pout, it was incredibly cute.  “Odd coming from someone who spits in the face of tradition.” You scoffed and gave him an incredulous look, “I do not spit in the face of tradition... Why do you care anyway?” 

Lo'ak paused for a second, seeming to mull over his thoughts before answering. "I have no issue with it as long you love him.” You sucked in a breath, a sharp pain shooting through your chest. Lo’ak cocked his head to the side, noticing your expression, and quickly added, "and it doesn't seem like you do, not from your reaction."

“And do you have someone else in mind, O' wise one?” You crossed your arms and peered down at him with a smirk. “I’m just saying, If you really think you'll never amount to anything then why not mate with me. Like you said… I’m gonna be the first Tulkan rider.”

Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and you looked away from his gaze. He was joking but you were unable to hide the small flicker of hope that bloomed inside your chest. Your heart started to beat faster, the idea of marrying Lo'ak was enticing, something that would have never occurred to you before now.

You noticed Lo'ak had been more touchy than normal, flirtier even, but you blamed it on the lack of attention he was receiving from your sister. He didn't have any other options and your heart was fragile at the moment, so you played it off as nothing more than a joke. He would always belong to your sister, and you would never be able to hold a candle to her. “I should have known not to come to you with serious matters.” You gave him a disapproving look before continuing.

You stalked forward, picking up the beaded top you made just days earlier. It was a mixture of beautiful blues and white shells, a necklace honestly too beautiful to be worn by you. “Help me fasten this before I have to go.” You were happy to change the subject and focus on anything else.

Lo'ak walked forward, his body moving slowly like he was testing the waters, his fingers grazing your back. His touch sent chills down your spine and butterflies in your stomach. You tried to focus on the task at hand, you're a big girl and you're not a child anymore. “Why are you wearing something like this?” 

Lo’ak’s head hovered above yours, his voice deep, reverberating within you. It was impossible to not feel the heat of his breath as it cascaded down your neck, his hands still on your back, gently running along the edge of your tunic. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him and twirling around. “I made it yesterday, what do you think?” 

“it’s beautiful… you’re beautiful,” his voice trailed off, his gaze was soft and full of something you could not place. It wasn't lust or adoration, more longing than anything else. “Thank you, Lo’ak.” You whispered, almost unable to get the words out of your mouth. You shook your head, forcing yourself back into reality. “I have to go help my mother; I’ll see you soon yeah?” He gave you a soft smile and quick nod before opening the flap to let you leave.

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The return of the Tulkun signaled the return of clear skies and calm seas. Your spirit sister, Äiä, had grown even larger since her last visit. This year she was speaking to you about the next breeding cycle, deciding it was time for her to bear her first calf. You were excited for her, proud of how far she’s come from the lonely calf who stuck to her mother’s fin. 

 She was known for being the most dutiful yet filled with mischief she only showed to you. You spoke to Äiä about your own love life, seeking comfort in your sister. Of course, she preferred the boy who did not bond with the outcast. It was as if Ewya had planned it this way, not allowing you the luxury of happiness.

Even though you spent hours beneath the water with her, it still never felt as if it was long enough. Soon the morning sun faded into hues of purple and orange, signaling the night's approach. You wanted nothing more than to escape into the ocean and be with her.

However, your clan had other plans. You made your way to the mats, already prepared for the night, an empty place set for you next to Txayì. The arrival of the Tulkuns was celebrated every year, a moderately large feast and an abundance of music learned from Ewya herself. 

The food was always welcome and the atmosphere always lively, a nice break from the monotony of daily life. “How was your spirit sister?” Txayì asked, his smile soft yet excited as he sat down next to you. You gave him a small smile, “she is well and hoping for a calf by next year.” He let out a hm, placing a palm on his chin.

"That's amazing, I hope she has a successful mating season." He answered, “I’m assuming you are wanting to follow her suit?” His voice was casual but there was a twinge of nervousness behind it. That was good, you didn’t enjoy overconfidence in men. 

"Perhaps, if that is what Ewya wills.” You responded with a shrug. Txayì gave you a soft nod and a small smile. You’re returned to tearing the fish on your plate apart, staring at the Sulli family sitting across the fire. Lo’ak was staring right back, giving you a sly grin.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a quick wave, only causing him to smirk more. Neteyam grasped his neck, whispering something in his ear with a huge grin plastered on his face. Lo'ak scoffed and playfully pushed Neteyam, sending him into a fit of giggles. You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away from them.

"I think you should start the evening with a dance,” your mother nodded in the direction of the man next to you, it was not a suggestion and more of a command. You begrudgingly rose from your mat and stepped over Txayì, your hand grazed his own as you walked by him, an invitation for you to join him for a dance.

You spun around with a wide smile, outstretching your arms preparing to move. The sounds of the flute and drums sending vibrations through you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the beats of the music as it filled your ears. Your body started to move on its own accord, moving with the music.

Dancing was like swimming, the rhythm flowing through you as the water did, pushing and pulling you to where it desired. You let it carry you, jumping and twirling in its current. Your movements were fluid and elegant as you continued to move with the beat. Txayì’s eyes seemed to be transfixed, captivated by the sight.

 You smiled genuinely as you continued your dance, it felt like an outpouring of your soul. He was not as bad of a dancer as you thought, vastly more graceful than Ao’nung who was tripping over his feet in the corner.  You felt someone's gaze on your back, eyes watching all of your moves. 

Your feet spun you around, staring back at the person who was disrupting your dance. Your smile faltered when you realized it was Lo'ak, his face shrouded in an unknown emotion. You followed his eyes to the man behind you, staring back at him with the same intensity. 

"Who is that?" Txayì asked, his voice low and his tone laced with suspicion. "Lo’ak," you replied, shifting your gaze back to Lo'ak who was now getting up to leave the excitement. You sucked in a breath and met his gaze, placing a hand on his arm. "I’ll be right back."

You chased after Lo’ak, following him further outside the village. His movements began to slow as he reached the tree groves. "What are you doing?" You huffed, trying to keep up with him. "Lo'ak, wait for me," you tried again. “What is your problem?” You snapped at him, planting your feet in the sand.

 He finally glanced at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "Nothing,” He muttered, turning around to walk away. "Stop being a brat and talk to me," you grasped his arm, pulling him so he was forced to look at you. He took a deep breath, raising his head as if praying to Ewya for strength. "I don't like him," His lips formed into a small pout, reminding you of a child. “Who?”

"Txayì," he scoffed, “the golden boy,” he mocked. You furrowed your brows together, "what has he done to spurn you?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don’t believe he’s right for you and you’re wasting both your time trying.” Your hand dropped back to your side, face losing its once worried expression, 

“I genuinely do not understand your sudden interest in who I mate with,” you said unamused. He gave you a deep frown and a sigh, his eyes drifting down to your chest. His fingers moved upwards to trace the beads concealing your chest, “this is the one you made earlier, yes?”

Your body tensed, the air between the two of you shifting into something more serious, “Yes but don’t change the subject.” He didn't answer your question, his fingers gently tugging at the necklace around your neck. “It looks really good on you.” You sucked in a breath, your eyes following his.

“You are deflecting,” you said, trying to hold your ground. “Do you really like him,” Lo'ak asked, his voice so soft, it was almost inaudible. His eyes stayed low as he gazed at you, a silent plea behind them. “I haven’t given it much thought,” you started, meeting his stare.

"Not as much as my mother likes him, that’s for sure,” you grinned. Lo'ak smirked back, the air between you once again becoming lighter. "She does have interesting taste in mates," he smiled to himself.  You giggled with him, his demeanor changing from somber to cheerful in an instant. "Was that all that bothered you?”

“Nah. you lied and told me you sucked at dancing like me, but you made everyone else look like real fish out of water.” You laughed at his childish remark. It wasn't often you laughed that hard, a pleasant sound leaving your lips. He smiled at you, his gaze softening as his eyes studied your features. “Ah, I see,” you said, tapping your fingers on your chin.

“You’re just jealous I’m better than you,” you teased. His lips parted in an offended gasp, “no way, not even close. You’ve never even danced with me before.” You giggled as his hand went to his chest. "Oh, great Lo'ak, you humble me." You bowed before him, exaggerating your movements.

"Stop with the theatrics and dance with me already." He moved forward, taking ahold of your hands. "Your jokes are always terrible." You let out another laugh as he began leading. "Better than your pickup lines at least," you joked. His hands went to grip your waist, lifting you up in the air and spinning once. You squealed, he laughed in return, “you’ve never even heard them before!” 

"I didn't need to hear them, I know you too well," you giggled. Lo’ak grasped your hands again, pulling you around in a circle. “This is a human dance! Much more advanced than what you were doing,” he declared. You rolled your eyes, trying not to focus on how warm his hands felt as they held you.

"Whatever you say," you continued to laugh, moving along with him. The two of you twirled around the area, his smile becoming a permanent feature on his face. You noted a few things about human dancing, it was sporadic and spontaneous, you touched each other continuously throughout it, and it was joyful and lighthearted. You had not noticed it before but the music that filled the village seemed to fade, the only sounds being those from your lips. The rest of the world was drowned out as you continued to dance, his body moving with yours, never separating.

You hadn't noticed your surroundings, not until you stumbled into the base of the tree. He moved to steady you, but his balance was far off as well, knocking into you as you stumbled backwards. You let out a sharp gasp, gripping onto his arm for support as you hit the ground. 

He hovered over you, his tail twisted under your leg and his knees incasing you. “I thought you said you were a good dancer,” you groaned. You gazed up at him, his features illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. "Huh?” 

Lo’ak looked ethereal in the lighting of twilight, his sanhì decorating his face. The air between you shifted, the heat radiating off his body shrouding you. His eyes followed yours down to his lips, your labored breaths synchronizing. It was as if you were in a trance, the world around you becoming nonexistent. You had long since stopped moving, entranced by his presence, his scent surrounding you. He began to lean in closer, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. 

“Little bro! Where did you run off to?!” Neteyam’s voice startled you both. You jerked your head away from him, pushing him off of you as you rose to your feet. Lo'ak sighed in frustration, a hand going to his face, rubbing it gently, “over here, bro!” 

Neteyam rushed up to the two of you, his gaze switching between the two of you, an amused grin on his face.  You stood up, fixing your braid that had fallen out of place. “Neteyam,” you nodded, “I’m going to go back before my mother sends a search party.”

Neteyam moved aside, giving you space to walk past him, his gaze still stuck on Lo'ak. "I see you are taking my brotherly advice," he giggled, glancing at his brother. Lo'ak looked up at Neteyam and groaned, falling back into the sand. “You are a cockblock."

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Ronal roughly pulled her fingers through your hair, untangling the knots that had formed overnight.  You stared out of the Marui, watching the rain drops disrupt the water, the sky was darkening, a major storm brewing.  "Ma evi, you have the unruliest hair out of the clan,” she huffed.

“Can you braid it this time, sa‘nu?” She gave you a quick nod and kept running her fingers through your hair. Your eyes traveled to the horizon, watching Lo’ak attempting tricks with his ilu. Your siblings and all three of his observing him, Ao’nung no doubt goading him on. 

He was so reckless sometimes, always pushing his luck. If something happened to Lo'ak you wouldn't know how you'd cope with the loss. You may just pray Ewya takes you with him instead. You glanced down at the necklace that hung around your neck, a sharp pain shooting through your chest.

The past few nights you’ve been haunted by the memory of the other night, the huge mistake you almost made while in a daze. 

Lo'ak was everything you wanted, yet so far out of your grasp, too far to reach. You were terrified, your future with Txayì was decided, yet your heart still pined for Lo'ak. However, as you watched him interact with your sister, the radiant smile adorning her face, his own just as bright as the sun, you knew the truth. The other night was just an attempt to heal his heart from her previous rejection. 

"You are too quiet," Your mother ceased her braiding and moved her body around yours.  "Apologies, I am just thinking.” You responded, meeting your mothers gaze. Her brows were furrowed together, and her lips were pursed in thought. "Thinking about…?" She prompted you to continue. "Txayì and our future.” You stated, lowering your eyes to the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

She hummed, continuing her work, "I know you better than you know yourself, evi. You are worried about the forest boy and your future with him." You shifted on your mat, meeting her stare. “w-what? No, I just-" You stammered, not able to find your words.

"Let me speak before you lie more to me.” She commanded, a knowing look in her eyes. You sucked in a breath, your body stilling in its spot. “Your father and I will not force you to be with someone you do not want,” she paused, carefully choosing her words.

"But Txayì will bring you much more happiness and stability in the future." She met your gaze, a stern look plastered on her face. “Lo’ak has bonded with the outcast. If you choose him, I fear your life will be filled with pain and turmoil you could avoid.” You sucked in a breath and tried to hold back tears, unable to respond.

Your mother reached forward, placing a warm palm on your cheek, her touch gentle yet strong, just like her. "You deserve to be happy with whom you wish, but you need to understand what you will lose as well as what you will gain and if that is truly worth it.” You gave her a soft nod, not wanting to voice your answer. Your mother released her hand, your face feeling cold in the absence of her touch.

She smiled and moved back to finish your hair. "Meet with Txayì tonight and make your choice later." She tugged at your hair, securing the last of your braids. You felt your stomach churn at the thought and the small bubble of hope that had bloomed inside your chest popping. 

You felt as though you were spilt in two, the currents in your heart ripping you in opposite directions. A part of you yearned for the easy route, the best choice for a promising future. It appeared bright and rosy like a flower that had just bloomed, a vision of Txayì always being there for you.

Your heart didn't agree, however, it pined for the outcast, the Omatikaya boy who held a permanent residence in your mind. It wanted nothing more than to be with him, to live in his chaos and venture into the unknown with him.  It didn’t frighten you, the unforeseen and the dangerous future that would eventually befall your life, but you would follow Lo'ak anywhere, regardless of what would await you, as long as he chose you. 

But he would not choose you. No matter how much you wished for him, he would always pick your sister. You would never be able to compete with her, you didn't possess the same charm or grace as Tsireya. You've seen his eyes wander in the past and you knew it wasn't only the necklace that had him captivated.

You would be no more than second best as always. You would continue to be the shadow to her light, and you could not begrudge him for preferring it. As you stood to leave your mothers gaze followed you, the slight frown she had on her face made your heart sink. "I will go and meet Txayì, sa’nu. I'm sure he has many good qualities I have yet to see." You gave her a weak smile before turning to exit the marui.

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You ventured outside the reef with Txayì, following suit as he spoke endlessly about his own life. It was hard to listen when your mind was some place far away, thinking of someone out of reach.  He was doing his utmost to impress you, wanting to be seen as someone worthy of your time.

And he was worth your time, that is but you were not worth his. It was as your mother had been saying, he was a mighty warrior and a superb hunter. Txayì was handsome, adorned with thick thighs and muscular arms, much different from Lo’ak. You liked to think Lo'ak's features were more refined, more delicate yet still masculine and appealing. 

Txayì proved himself to be loyal, trustworthy, a true leader with a good soul and a promising future.  He spoke about the many great achievements he had under his belt, the great stories he's heard from outside the reef and what he's seen. Txayì seemed to be interested in the few things you spoke of as well, listening intently and absorbing every syllable you uttered. 

The two of you spent most of the morning together, but not once did he make an advance towards you. He seemed to be genuine, but did not possess the charm that Lo'ak did, lacking the charisma and playfulness that made you smile and made your heart flutter. That no longer mattered, you tried to convince yourself.

You had to make a choice soon, to choose what would bring you the most stability, regardless of what you would be leaving behind. "So will I see you later?" Txayì asked, stopping his movements on the shore and turning his head to face you.

"Yes, I’m sure my mother would love for you to sit with us at the evening meal." You answered, giving him a weak smile, unable to commit to a real one. He gave you an enthusiastic nod, "good. I look forward to getting to know you all better.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as he said his goodbyes.

You gave him a quick nod and a tight smile before bidding him farewell. You watched as he left, his form getting smaller as he headed back onto shore. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervousness that was building in your gut. This is a good match, you told yourself.

After you had properly cleaned yourself, you escaped to a corner of the beach. The sum was at its highest, its orange glow reflecting off of the water. You dragged a satchel of bead, shells and various materials to make jewelry. Eventually, you needed to craft a courting present for your future mate. But for now, you intended to spend the rest of the day finishing the ones you had already started.

At some point your fingers began to ache from how long you had been braiding the strands of the jewelry together. You had never been meticulous about the bracelets you made but this was a gift. The shells you chose were shades of blue and cerulean, accompanied by nearly translucent beads you stole from Tsireya’s stash. It was coming together nicely, you thought to yourself. 

The soft sounds of sand rusting behind you tore you from your thoughts. Still, you chose to ignore the person quickly approaching. “Why so blue?” Lo’ak’s voice rang in your eyes as he sat down in front of you, legs crossed. A shit eating grin plastering his face. “You’re not funny skxawng,” you scoffed whilst stifling a laugh. 

His eyebrows lifted as he gazed into your lap. “Are those bracelets? For whom?” You tossed the eldest one at him, ignoring his expression. “I never got the chance to give that one to you,” you spoke in a hushed tone. You focused on finishing the most recent one, tying an Amber colored stone onto it. “This is for you too,” you spun around to face him, watching him intently as his fingers ran over the beads. 

Lo'ak looked up at you, eyes widening. You could feel yourself grow more anxious, fidgeting with your fingers and swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself calm. You spoke fast, interrupting him before he could finish his train of thought. “They’re meant to represent you, the first is to represent the forest when you were an Omatikaya… This one is to represent you as a Metkayina.” 

You were unable to speak as he slowly clasped it around his wrist. He rubbed the surface of it gently, a soft smile painted his lips. “They’re beautiful, thank you… shouldn't you be making these for Txayì?” he teased, speaking in a soft voice.

You shrugged, averting your eyes, “Yes.” You felt a lump in your throat at the thought of him, the thought of your future. “What is he doing these days? I haven’t seen him around.” Lo'ak looked towards the horizon, eyes narrowing as if he could see all of the way to your village. “I would assume he was training with my father.”

Lo’ak stood up, pacing around you and softly disturbing the sand. His tail swayed, as if he was upset hearing about your future mate. You remained silent, only observing his behavior. He spoke again, his voice hushed, eyes focused on the ground. You could see the change in his demeanor, the stiffness in his shoulders, “Don’t mate with him.” 

“Not this again…” you glanced up at him, his face laced with seriousness. You pushed yourself off of the sand and gazed at him. “Why?” Lo’ak stalked forward, placing his hands on your shoulders as if to hold you in place. “You know why, lor.”

You looked up at him, swallowing hard as you felt his warm fingers grip your arms. You stared into his eyes, noticing his dark pupils slowly dilated. Your mouth turned down into a frown, tears threatening to escape your eyes. Lo’ak was giving you false hope, pretending he desired you. “That’s enough, Lo’ak.” 

You attempted to pull away, but he moved closer, trying to pull you back in. He began whispering sweet nothings towards you, his eyes as gentle as his voice. You took a step back and moved out of his grip, "Kehe! Lo’ak! You know better!” your voice trailed off, “I have been second to Tsireya my entire life. I will not be the mate you settle for just because you cannot have her!” 

His face fell, a pained expression appeared on his face as he moved to embrace you. You ignored what your heart yearned for and stalked off in the other direction. Your harsh words cut deep within Lo’ak’s flesh, leaving unseen marks on his heart. He loathed when you were upset with him, especially when he was the cause of it. Lo'ak assumed after the other night you were riding the same wave, obviously not. His tail wrapped around himself as he sat on the sand, the droplets of rain beginning to soak his hair. 

He understood the pain of being second to his sibling and never being someone’s first choice. But he had also wanted you for much longer than you realized. He’ll admit Tsireya was an amazing friend, and truly helped him learn how to be one of the people. But that was all she was to him, a friend. 

Not to mention Txayì would never be able to make you happy, he was too bland and far too perfect. You’d get bored of him after a few moon cycles and regret choosing him for the rest of his life. The thought alone was driving him insane and everyone around him knew it. 

How could he make you see him? To understand just how much he yearned for you too. That you took up the most space in his heart and head, leaving little room for any other thought. He sighed deeply, falling back onto the sand and staring up at the darkened sky. Lo’ak closed his eyes, fantasizing a future that was so close yet completely untouchable. 

To be continued….

#lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x fem!reader #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fic #atwow loak #loak x reader #loak x you #lo'ak x you #loak sully #avatar the way of water #atwow fanfiction #atwow x reader

[beskarandblasters]

Me and My Husband

Synopsis & Tag List Form

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Hello! Here’s the synopsis for my new Din series, Me and My Husband

The title and all of the chapter titles are inspired by Mitski song titles/lyrics!

If you’d like to join the tag list please use this link!

Chapter one will be coming 11/1 at 5 pm EST and the graphic is by @nostalxgic 🩵

"And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved"

Synopsis: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

Some general warnings: set post season 3, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), some liberties taken with Mandalorian culture/weddings/marriages, infidelity, eventual smut (starts at chapter two!), heavy on the angst, switches between Reader and Din’s POV

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #mamh #pedrostories #starwarsficnetwork

[hahnspoetrywrites]

My Love, Mine All Mine

A/N: HELLLOOOO!!! I'm back! Sorry for the loooooooong period of inactivity. I was struggling to write for a while but some good good friends of mine helped inspire me and this is the result of that. My writing my be rusty so apologies if it's a bit meh.

Also NEW FANDOM!!! Natasha O'Keeffe... if you're free next Thursday I have a day off and I am totally 100% free.

Lanfear x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, lots of touching, mentions of violence... nothing graphic I don't think, Moiraine isn't nice in this, reader is female but I tried to keep it as neutral as possible.

Title inspired by the Mitski song of the same name, Lanfear would listen to it and think of her love I KNOW IT

Tagged: @baubeautyandthegeek

You don’t remember falling asleep, but as you woke up you felt soft fingers tracing along your scalp, another gentle hand holding you close to someone tightly. You shuffled in closer to them but kept your eyes shut, hearing them exhale a laugh. 

“Still feeling tired, my darling?” Lanfear muttered gently against your head, making you smile where your head rested against her shoulder. You nodded your head against her shoulder once you were comfortable, feeling her hold you tighter. 

If you could, you wouldn’t ever leave her embrace, she was always so warm and gentle, not like the Forsaken you’d been told about so often. Moiraine had warned you she wasn’t to be trusted, but you’d seen a completely different side to her, one you couldn’t have imagined. When those Whitecloaks stormed Falme and Lanfear saw you in danger, being chased by some of those wretched men, she had to step in. You were too busy watching them to notice the tall, raven-haired woman not too far ahead of you. You stumbled into her, but she caught you with ease. You hid your face against her shoulder as you heard the men screaming, not daring to turn and look at them, or whatever this woman was doing to them. She held you close without thinking.

“Are you alright?” She asked gently, wondering how you were left alone in the midst of an attack. 

“Y-Yes… I think so. How did you-” The woman began pulling you away from the destruction and fighting and into the tower, finding a room that was secluded enough the two of you wouldn’t be found. 

“Who are you?” You asked, watching as she turned her head to face you.

“And why would you need to know that?” She’d turned her whole body to face you now, allowing you to look at her properly for the first time. She was gorgeous. Pale skin, bright blue eyes, long black hair that fell against her back. You’d never seen a woman so gorgeous.

“Hello?” She clicked her fingers in your face to get your attention, not missing the slight blush that crept up on her cheeks at the attention, nor the bashful smile she gave you.

“Sorry… I just wanted to know who saved me so I could thank them properly,” You replied, still looking at her in awe of her beauty. Her hand gently touched your cheek, stroking it with her fingers. 

“Lanfear,” She spoke quietly, as if muttering her name was dangerous. It was an unusual name, but still pretty nonetheless. You smiled at her as you told her your name. 

“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” you blushed. The screaming began to die down from outside, both of you listening intently. “Hmm… I think it’s safe to go back out.” You suggested, her hand still holding your cheek gently. 

“Maybe, I think we should stay here a little longer. Just to be safe,” She’d moved closer to you, noses almost touching. 

“I think that’s a smart idea,” You agreed, finding yourself more drawn to her by the minute.

Surprisingly, you spent most of that time finding out about each other, Lanfear asking you more questions than her answering yours. After a while you both decided to emerge, Lanfear holding your hand ‘as a way to protect you’, she’d said. Not that you didn’t want her to, her hand was soft and warm. You both stood, dotted amongst the crowd as the banner was raised across the sky in fire, the Dragon claiming himself. You watched as Lanfear smiled proudly and you couldn’t help but smile at her. She glanced over at you, smiling brighter as she tugged you closer with her hand. She pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek as her arm snuck around your waist. You could feel the blush rushing to your cheeks as you leant against her. 

Later on, when you and Moiraine found each other in Falme, you’d spent most of the time talking about Rand and what had happened. When you mentioned a dark-haired woman saving you she stilled. When you told her who’d done it, she looked exasperated. 

“She cannot be trusted! She’s a Forsaken, one of the Dark Lord’s most powerful soldiers. And you’ve been aimlessly flirting with her?!? I never took you for an idiot, but this is a stupid move from you.” Moiraine’s words stung, the harshness of her tone breaking your heart. You couldn’t see how Lanfear could be that person. 

“She isn’t like that Moiraine! She wants to see the world and explore, she wants to make this world a better place. If she is a Forsaken, then she’s the nicest I’ve ever met! And if she’s really as evil as you say she is, why did she save me from Whitecloaks? Why did she protect me and hide the pair of us away from them until it was safe?”

“There may be an ulterior motive that we’re not seeing… I don’t see what she would gain from having you in her grasp. Hardly the strongest channeller,” Moiraine kept laying down harsh criticism after harsh criticism, so much so you fled the room after a while, not wanting to listen to it anymore. You walked the streets of Falme haphazardly, the tears blurring your vision until you bumped into someone.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, I- Lanfear?” Lanfear stood before you, arms holding your shoulders gently. The second she saw your tear stained cheeks and felt the way you were shaking, she whisked you away back to her room. Her arms wrapped around you so tightly, feeling you sob into her chest made her heart shatter. She’d have to make whoever hurt you like this pay.

“Who did this to you, sweetheart?” She asked you, once again her voice light and soft, making you question how she could be a Forsaken.

“Who hurt you like this? I can’t stand to see anyone hurting you like this,” Lanfear pulled away, brushing your hair behind your ears before holding your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at the still falling tears.

“I-It was Moiraine. She- she told me you’re a- a Forsaken. Is it true?” You looked her in the eyes and saw fear creep into them. 

“I am, darling. But I promise you, I mean you no harm. All I wanted to do was save a pretty girl from a bunch of evil men, I didn’t expect to find her so beautiful and charming.”

She smiled at you so softly, her lips leaving a featherlight kiss above each of your eyes, the soreness from crying disappearing. 

“She told me you must’ve had an ulterior motive for saving me. But it couldn’t be for my channelling because I’m not strong enough, can’t be connected to an Ajah, there’s no way I’m powerful enough to become one. I’m not that pretty, I don’t have any good or royal connections… I’m-“ She cut you off by kissing your lips gently. They were soft, featherlight yet almost dominating. She knew what she wanted from this kiss and she would have it. And you’d let her take it.

“I don’t want to hear you say anything negative about yourself like that… Ever. You’re beautiful, and from what you told me earlier, brave, kind and smart. As for channelling, well, you’ve got me. I can help you train and keep you safe. I can protect you from anyone who wishes to harm you. Even that little Aes Sedai. If you want me to?” Her eyes were expressive, showing the clear desperation she felt to keep you safe. You couldn’t deny you felt automatically safe around her, wanting to stick by her side. Especially after the way Moiraine spoke to you. You nodded, wanting her to keep you safe for as long as she could, before she kissed you once more. 

You both spent a lot of time running from Moiraine and Lan, staying in the most obscure places you could, exploring the world as much as you could at the same time. That’s what led you here, to this small cabin in the middle of the woods. It had been quiet and sweet, almost romantic without the given circumstances. As Lanfear’s fingers continued to massage your head gently, you smiled, feeling content with her in that moment. 

“When did you get back?” You asked, feeling guilty for missing her coming home. 

“I’m not sure, you were asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful. And I know it’s been hard for you to rest,” Lanfear watched you snuggle up closer, moving your head to rest gently on her chest. 

“I find it hard to sleep when you’re not home… or at least when I don’t know where you are. I don’t want anyone hurting you,” You didn’t want to admit the truth to her. The fear you felt whenever you were travelling between places was inevitable, but when she was gone, your fear increased tenfold. She cupped your chin with her fingers softly, before turning you to face her. 

“Baby, it pains me far too much to be away from you. And I’ll always, always come back to you no matter what. I can’t bear to think about your little heartbroken face. Thinking about anyone even thinking about hurting you makes me want to unleash the true extent of my power upon the world,” Lanfear kissed the corner of your mouth, the softness of her lips always surprising you. You moved a hand to cup her cheek, pulling her even closer to you. Your nose almost bumped her own, much like when you were first together in Falme. 

“And that little Aes Sedai won’t be finding us for a little while,” Lanfear’s breath was hot against your face, her lips claiming your own gently, before you pulled away softly.

“What do you mean?” you asked. Part of you was slightly concerned at what she might’ve done to Moiraine and Lan, but most of you was happy to finally have time with Lanfear that wouldn’t be cut short by their sudden appearance or needing to leave so they wouldn’t appear. 

“They aren’t injured or hurt… I may have lured them into the Waygate and blasted them back to their starting point in Falme. We deserve a little time together, I haven’t been able to spend any real time with you. My precious girl,” She chuckled gently as you pulled her in for a kiss. Your lips took charge this time, moving yourself so you were on top of her, straddling her. She laughed into the kiss once more, having never seen this side of you before. 

“That means we’ll actually get to spend time together without having to worry about them?” You asked in disbelief. You couldn’t believe you had this time with her uninterrupted. 

“Well, the closest Waygate to where we are is five days by horse, even longer on foot. And the Waygate to Falme may temporarily be out of action right now thanks to a cute little spider.” Lanfear trailed kisses down your face to your neck, gently sucking the skin enough to leave a little mark. 

“Remind me to thank the Spiderling for that,” Your voice caught in your throat at Lanfear’s softness, her hands holding your waist as she moved her lips down to nibble at your exposed collarbone. 

“What about my thanks? I’m the one who led them off our trail… and blasted them through the Waygate back to Falme? Don’t I get a thank you?” She teased, pulling away from you to look in your eyes. You rolled your eyes softly before giving her a peck on the lips. 

“What made you think you weren’t going to get a thank you?” You kissed her once more, before moving down to her neck. She still had her usual clothes on, trousers and a loose shirt. As you worked your way down the skin exposed by her open shirt she sighed contentedly. 

“I love you, my darling.” Lanfear’s voice shocked you, making you pause and look her in the eyes. Her eyes began to fill with fear before you smiled back at her, leaning up to kiss her one more time. 

“I love you too, my Forsaken.”

#lanfear #lanfear x fem!reader #lanfear x reader #the wheel of time #natasha o'keeffe

[andruwminyrd]

spotify playlists just because ✨

2022. vibe for 2022

steve harrington - ahoy ladies! (mix of 80s songs & more modern ones. also a mix of songs that reminds me of him & that i think he'd like tbh)

robin buckley - i wanted her to look at me (mix of 80s songs but also sapphic songs <33 same as steve it's a mix of songs that i think she'd like but also that just reminds me of her)

stranger things - friends don't lie. (songs from the series & songs that fits)

NACE - just 'cuse i'm mad at you doesn't mean i want to lose you. a playlist for nancy drew and ace from nancy drew.

the marauders. i solemnly swear i'm up to no good. (songs that reminds me of the gang & that i think they'd listen to)

the foxhole court. he was their family. they were his. they were worth every cut and bruise and scream. a playlist for all for the game by nora sakavic cus my tfc phase came back and i'd deleted my old playlist so i needed a new and updated one <3

that funny feeling. inspired by bo burnhams song by the same title. mainly sad songs from phoebe bridgers, taylor swift and mitski. (others too but those 3 r the main ones)

it was never a phase. a messy playlist with mostly emo & pop punk music (think mcr, fall out boy, paramore and avril lavigne.. tho there r some bratz song in there as well)

you have bewitched me. movie score & classical music.

coming of age soundtrack. typical songs that are in a coming of age movie like lady bird, booksmart and the edge of seventeen.

90s romcom soundtrack. typical songs that are in romcoms from the 90s like 10 things i hate about you, she's all that and clueless.

horror movie soundtrack. mainly inspired by fear street

final girl. she’s the one at the end with a knife in her hand. her friends are dead. she’s on a mission to kill. she’s not so innocent anymore. a playlist for my girls sidney prescott, laurie strode, ellen ripley, alice hardy, grace le domas and so many more.

cottagecore. songs that fits the cottagecore aesthetic.

fine! make me your villain. songs that fits ur favorite villain.

slowburn enemies to friends to lovers. when you don't know if they're gonna kiss or kill each other.

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo. they are just husbands. i am evelyn hugo. and anyways, i think once people know the truth, they will be mure more interested in my wife.

daisy jones and the six. for the book with same title by taylor jenkins reid. will be updated with the songs from the tvshow when it's out (and if i like them ahha)

star crossed lovers. two young lovers, whose love is destined for destruction.

dark academia. think the secret history, dead poets society, kill your darlings, if we were villains.

wasting my young years. it's 2015 and you're on tumblr. (tho some songs are prob from 2016 and up but the vibe is there)

pov its summer. a playlist for the summer

percy jackson. don't feel bad, i'm usually about to die. for the percy jackson series by rick riordan, and getting hyped for the disney+ series.

#*playlist #spotify playlists #playlists #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #the foxhole court #nace #horror tag #tfc #dark academia #romeo and juliet #cottagecore #final girl #the marauders #nancy drew #* #daisy jones and the six #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #pjo #percy jackson

[defectivevillain]

judgment by the hounds

pairing: Loki Laufeyson & Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic; reader's race is ambiguous and gender/pronouns are unspecified)

summary:

Loki is captured and held in S.H.I.E.L.D. captivity. However, he doesn’t attempt to break free right away. Instead, he bides his time by waiting for something—or, more accurately, someone.

You’re an FBI agent called in by S.H.I.E.L.D. to interrogate their newest prisoner, Loki Laufeyson.

word count: 5.6k | ao3 version

warnings: blood, injury & gore typical to SotL; manipulation & mind games

I thought about writing this as I was reading Silence of the Lambs — I imagined questioning Loki & having a similar dynamic with him during his temporary imprisonment. There aren’t any explicit references to SoL in here, but I wanted to include it as a fandom tag because Hannibal & Clarice’s dynamic really inspired this fic.

This is not canon compliant, and there will likely be some discrepancies. Just pretend this is an alternate timeline. :>

The title of this fic is from I’m Your Man by Mitski. The lyrics “I’ll meet judgment by the hounds… People always gave me love… Others were never to blame after all… You believe me like a god, I’ll betray you like a man” felt pretty relevant to this fic.

The reader is racially ambiguous, gender is ambiguous, and pronouns aren't used. warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (typical to SotL)

thanks anna (@pinocchiospissrock) for the beta! (any remaining mistakes are mine.) luv u and so excited to see u soon!!!! <333

If you told your younger self that your criminal investigative work would earn you a conversation with the legendary Nick Fury, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., your younger self would have laughed. The mere thought would be preposterous. Fury is the face of the entire organization, and the founder of the Avengers! What would a mere FBI agent like yourself do to even earn a moment with him, let alone a full conversation? 

Apparently, you’re becoming somewhat renowned for your investigative work. You’ve always avoided the press—otherwise you would have noticed your name cropping up in cases with big profiles in the public eye. You would’ve noticed that you were slowly starting to get more and more credit for your accomplishments; you would’ve been able to connect the dots between Nick Fury—desperate for information and willing to do anything to get it—and you—an FBI agent rising in the ranks for important work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and Jack Crawford. 

Despite these recognitions, however, you can’t quite believe that you’re being flown to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York City to speak with Nick Fury. Truly, this feels like some kind of fever dream. As you’re escorted through the high-level security installments on the ground floor of the building, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not meant to be here. This must be some kind of mistake, you’re thinking to yourself, even as you’re given a visitor ID badge. You’re led into a glass elevator that rises to the twentieth floor, through a cold stone hall and even more security installments. Eventually, you come face-to-face with a nondescript wooden door. The security guard knocks on the door and opens it for you, revealing a clean and modern space with black leather furniture and an array of windows (bulletproof and likely very durable) overlooking the street below. There is a figure seated at the grand desk in the center of the room. Nick Fury looks up at the sudden disturbance, his brown eye immediately assessing your form before moving to the guard in the doorway. He nods and the guard steps out of the room, closing the door behind them. 

“Agent, have a seat,” Fury offers. It’s an order, not a simple statement. You comply immediately and Fury raises an eyebrow. For a long moment, tension settles in the air as Nick Fury unsubtly scrutinizes you. Fury puts a contemplative hand on his chin and stares at you. Despite the eye patch covering his left eye, his menacing gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Fury remarks vaguely. You nod. “I need you to do something for me.” You raise an eyebrow. When he continues, any confidence you gained from the notion of him requesting something of you promptly fades from existence. He tells you about a god with a penchant for mischief that borders on cruelty—about a devastating attack on New York City that left thousands injured and hundreds dead. You had heard about the attack on the news, but you had too much going on to truly process what you were seeing. Fury tells you that this trickster, a Norse god by the name of Loki, is currently in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most secure containment. It’s clear S.H.I.E.L.D. is desperate for information, otherwise they wouldn’t be bringing you in for something like this—this is far above your pay grade. Norse gods were never mentioned in your training at Quantico.

“Loki has been largely uncooperative,” Fury continues, immune to the emotional whiplash you’re currently experiencing. “We needed to try a different approach.” He looks at you after that. “And we need more information. Can I count on you to do this?” You take a slow breath in. Do you really have a choice? 

“Yes, sir,” you respond. Fury regards you for another second, before evidently deciding that your answer is satisfactory. He then hands you a device, which appears to be a pass that allows you entrance into the high-security cells. It’s an effective dismissal. You take it and murmur a word of thanks, before stepping out of the room. With the security guard’s guidance, you’re able to learn the location of the high-security prison and you take another elevator ride. When the doors ding, a giant metronome sounds off in your head. You can’t go back now, you think to yourself as you cross the threshold of the elevator and step towards the reinforced metal door with a fingerprint and retinal scanner. You glance at the guard, who nods and urges you to continue. Somehow, in the brief time that you spoke with Fury, your information must've been registered in the system—as your name appears on screen after it scans your finger. You then lean down and allow the machine to scan your retina, before a blue light flashes once. You frown at the door, before seeing a screen flashing on the left side. You press the pad Fury gave you to the screen and the door clicks, swinging open ominously.  

You take a step forward and leave the door open, expecting for the guard to follow you. They shoot you a disbelieving look and take a step backwards, letting the door fall shut. You’re left alone in a hallway reminiscent of a steel prison. As you slowly walk down the narrow path between iron bars, you feel hard gazes boring into your very skin. Someone jeers at you. You keep walking until you reach the solitary cell at the end of the hall. For the first time since entering the space, you allow yourself to look up—only to look into the glimmering green eyes of Loki Laufeyson. 

Safe to say, Fury neglected to mention that Loki would be the single most intimidating individual you’ve ever had the misfortune and displeasure to meet. Staring at him through the thick walls of glass, you’re suffocated with a sudden, intense dread. Even if Fury hadn’t given you any background on him, you’re sure you still would’ve been able to surmise this man’s maleficence and cruelty. He has long dark hair, sharp features, and a positively malevolent grin on his face. 

“Hello,” you murmur guardedly. The thick walls of glass aren’t enough to ensure you of your safety—that attentive gaze cuts straight through your skin and sinks deep into the bone. The god raises an eyebrow at you, pausing for a moment to allow you the opportunity to turn tail and run away. You very nearly take the gifted opportunity, before you remember that information on the invasion could save lives.

“Are you lost?” Loki asks, regarding you with as much respect as someone regards a pebble beneath their feet. Your hands are ever so slightly trembling from your sides and you stuff your hands in your pockets, suddenly feeling the need to keep yourself occupied. 

“No,” You eventually reply. You decide to introduce yourself, before raising your eyebrows at the god in return. You resist the urge to ask him to introduce himself. You know who he is, and you would likely end up insulting him with the question anyway. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to be very careful around him. The slightest word or provocation would lose the information for good. Why are you being called in for this, again?

“What could possibly have possessed Fury to send a mere agent such as yourself to speak with me?” The god questions, echoing your very own thoughts. You take a deep breath and try to steel your nerves. 

“I’m a criminal investigator,” you respond, once your tongue is no longer ironed to the roof of your mouth. “I’ve spent most of my life studying how criminal types think and what motivates them. I want to ask you a few questions.”

“Interesting,” Loki hums. He doesn’t seem the least bit intrigued; rather, he appears incredibly bored. “And you think this Midgardian experience is enough to grant you a conversation with me? You know nothing of who I am and what I am capable of.” 

You want to be surprised, but you expected something along those lines. A brief white-hot fury overtakes you as you remember the tension in Fury’s shoulders, the withdrawn tone in his voice, how he seemed to expect you to fail. Everyone is expecting you to fail. “I know enough,” you respond, before you can contemplate the consequences of doing so.  In truth, Fury had given you Loki’s file earlier. He also left you with a few words of warning. You manage to tear yourself away from your conversation with Fury and focus on what you viewed in Loki’s file. The information comes to mind within seconds. “You caused quite the scene in Germany. I suspect that was the intention.” There is no acknowledgement that he’s even listening to you, save for the intense gaze that seems to be dissecting you for his own amusement. 

The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. “You’re the adopted son of Odin and Frigga, and the brother of Thor. Your real father is Laufey, the Frost Giant King. You’re the God of Mischief. And you’re a constant thorn in the side of the Avengers and Nick Fury.”

“Those are just the facts,” you conclude. You’re met with nothing but silence. There’s an undercurrent of expectation in the air, as if he’s waiting for you to continue. You grit your teeth. Somehow, you have his attention now. It would be best if you didn’t lose it. “As for my first impressions… You’re manipulative, obviously. Cunning and clever. Selfish, extremely controlling. You derive pleasure from other people’s pain. You enjoy being the chessmaster—manipulating your pawns and discarding them the moment they’ve fulfilled their purpose.”

“Beneath all that, you’re frighteningly human. Jealousy, envy, a visceral desire for Odin’s approval, and a thirst for power… You delight in your darkest urges and scorn any of the ones that come close to resembling even a hint of genuine emotion.”

“Now will you answer my questions?” You finish. 

Loki’s head is down now. His shoulders are shaking and for a second, you think he’s crying. Then he raises his head, revealing a twisted grin on his face. “No one has possessed the courage to talk to me in such a manner in millenia,” the god remarks, his hands clasped behind his back. He takes a step forward and inspects you through the glass. You remember your fear from earlier. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I’ve already told you,” you answer. You’ve done this song and dance before, and you have enough experience to know nothing good comes from giving a criminal your name. In the few rare instances in which it seemed that they simply wouldn’t give in, you would give a fake name. You weren't foolish enough to try that with the God of Mischief, though. “Besides, that doesn’t matter. I’m here for information.” You repeat for what feels like the umpteenth time. 

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Loki says, studying you with scrutiny. Your skin crawls. Everything about this feels like a horrible idea. Not for the first time, you question why you were called in for this assignment. “I’m not allowed visitors otherwise—on account of the last one being found in his home with his throat slit.” There’s another flash of amusement in his eyes. 

“Fun,” you remark flatly. Your heart is racing out of your chest, but you know not to show your apprehension. Fear is Loki’s game. “Seriously, though. I assume you want to get out of here in the next millennium.” You remark. 

“Au contraire,” Loki replies. It takes you a few seconds to process what he says, and several more seconds to recall the translation: ‘On the contrary.’ You wait patiently for the god to continue.  “You don’t really think I’ll be released, do you? And don’t bother pretending otherwise—you don’t have the power or authority to make promises here.”

“I’m not sure why you’re entertaining conversation with me in the first place, then,” you reason. You feel lost in this conversation, admittedly. It’s taking an unhealthy amount of mental energy to keep yourself afloat in these verbal traps.

“Maybe I’m bored,” Loki drawls. In the fluorescent lighting beaming down on him, he looks every bit as royal as he is rumored to be. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to let your guard down, for your mental defenses to fade away and corrode into nothingness before my control slips into your psyche, forcing you to be a spectator as I pilot your body and mind.”

You stare at him for a moment, heart hammering away in your chest. Somehow, it’s that sentiment that cements the reality of the situation. You’re not qualified enough for whatever the hell this is. You’ve interrogated loads of criminals before, but they’ve never posed a legitimate physical and mental threat to you in the same manner that Loki does. You find yourself genuinely fearing for your safety as you stare at Loki’s glittering green eyes. 

As your heart races and you take a few steps backwards, you catch a sudden blur in your peripheral vision, before you’re struck with white-hot pain that flares up the left side of your face. You blink dazedly and bring a hand up to your left cheek, only to find blood splattered across your skin. There’s a jagged fragment resting on the floor near your foot—evidently the cause of the wound. You turn to the left, only to find the man from before clutching at the bars of his cell with ferocity—a crazed look in his eyes as he stares at you. Your gaze then falls to the porcelain toilet in the corner of his cell, with a notable chunk missing. That must’ve been where he got the shard. The side of your face is burning, hot blood trickling down your cheek. You press the back of your hand to the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Unsurprisingly, the wound doesn’t magically heal or stop bleeding. You grimace and set off down the hallway, intending to leave and find a first-aid kit. Just as your palm flattens on the door, Loki says your name. 

You pause, your cheek stinging. You feel Loki’s gaze at your back and you know you probably don’t have the luxury to continue walking away. Yet… you can’t bear to turn around. You open the door and walk away, unaware of the furious expression on Loki’s face. The security guard’s eyebrows climb up their face as they see the blood trickling down your face, but you simply hand them the keypad and walk away. 

You have nothing in lieu of information and a fresh, jagged cut on your cheek. You don’t expect to be called to the high-security cells again any time soon—not after that complete and utter failure. You leave S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters that day with a bandage on your cheek and wounded pride. The conversation with Loki keeps you up that night in your hotel room, as you turn over every statement in your head. There’s a notable disconnect between Loki’s words and his actions. Furthermore, if he’s truly so powerful, then why is he still contained? You know S.H.I.E.L.D. is well-equipped to handle villains, but Loki is a Norse god. Surely he could snap his fingers and transport himself somewhere else? If that’s the case, you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t escaped yet. 

You avoid work the next few days to fully recover from the physical and mental injuries acquired that day. It’s nice to have some free time, but it is still somewhat dampened by the knowledge that you didn’t get any information from Loki. Fury is going to be, well, furious. 

Safe to say, you don’t expect to see Nick Fury on your doorstep one morning, a troubled expression on his face. You greet him and try to invite him in, but he remains outside. His dissecting gaze flits about your face, searching for something. “It’s been an interesting day, Agent,” he evidently decides to say.  

“How so?” You ask. Fury glances to his left and right, before taking a small step forward and leaning closer. 

“A prisoner in the high security area was murdered,” he murmurs, “He was found in his cell. It seems he was fed his own tongue before he choked and suffocated to death. Miggs. Awful guy, but… we had intended on getting more information from him.” Fury shakes his head. Meanwhile, you’re reeling. There’s no way the victim was the same prisoner who assaulted you earlier. That would be a truly troubling occurrence—one you’re not quite sure you could put down to coincidence. 

“Anyway…  I need you to speak with Loki again.” Fury continues, his expression serious. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the slight shock that must be showing on your face. “You seem surprised.”

You nod. “I was under the impression that our conversation didn’t go well,” you decide to respond honestly. Fury seems to appreciate the truthfulness, although his eyebrows furrow and he takes a deep breath. 

There’s a beat of silence. “He’s refused to speak with anyone else we’ve sent,” Fury explains, “Since your last visit, he’s been exceptionally…Well. He asked for you specifically.”

What was Fury going to say just then? And, more importantly, did you even hear him correctly? Did Loki really ask to speak with you, even after the tense conversation you had? You’re immediately suspicious. 

“Listen,” Fury breaks off, looking conflicted and resolved all at once. “For whatever reason, he’s different with you. I’m not sure why, but whatever the reason, we need to take advantage. Loki has valuable information about the attack on New York.” 

“In reality, he asked for you a few days ago,” Fury continues, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. You look over to him in surprise. “I refused. But… since then, he’s been extremely disagreeable—and we’re running out of time.”

“I’ll try to speak with him,” you answer. That’s the best you can promise. You certainly can’t promise that it’ll be a productive conversation, or that you’ll get any information from him. Indeed, the last discussion you had with Loki, it felt as if you were disclosing more information than he was. Still, the prospect seems to be good enough for Fury. 

“Thank you, Agent,” he nods, returning the keycard that grants access to the high security area. You take a deep breath and follow him back to his car, steeling your nerves as the city buildings pass before your vision. Once you reach the headquarters, you walk down the halls and head to the elevators. Fury and you part ways as he gets off the elevator, and he leaves you with a brief nod. 

It only takes a few steps in the hallway of the high-security cells for you to notice that something’s missing. A cell is empty—the same one that Miggs had occupied before. You feel dread coiling in your chest, yet you can’t stop yourself from taking a step closer and getting a better look at the empty cell. There’s blood splattered all across the ground—although it appears as if someone tried to clean it, since it bears a closer resemblance to dark brown than red. The sheets of the mattress are clean and the cell looks entirely untouched, save for the stains across the floor and the noticeable chunk missing from the toilet. 

Your attention is captured by the cell—so much so that you forget your company. “Ah, what a pleasant surprise,” Loki remarks, sending your heart racing as you remember his presence. You take a deep breath and tear your eyes away from the evidence of Miggs’s death. As you break the distance between Loki’s enclosure and you, you can’t help but shake the feeling that he had something to do with the death of Miggs. You don’t have any proof, but the awful feeling stirring in your gut certainly makes you question what you thought you knew. 

Loki clears his throat pointedly and you remember yourself. “You asked for me,” you then answer cautiously. 

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if Fury would oblige,” Loki drawls, regarding you with mild amusement. You’re not sure what he thinks is entertaining, so you just pretend not to have noticed his smug grin. “He doesn’t seem to care for me much.”

“I’d argue most of us don’t,” you hear yourself blurt out. You really need a better filter, especially in a conversation as important as this one. If you want information from Loki, you’ll have to be nicer to him. Despite that thought, Loki is staring at you with the same amusement as before. There’s no sense that the insult even registered. 

“And yourself?” The god asks, once again reminding you that you’re the one at the mercy of the conversation. You grit your teeth and try to remain calm, despite the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy that threaten to send you down the hall. 

“What about me?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“You said most of us,” Loki says, “Does that include you?”

You don’t bother to dignify that question with a response. “What do you want?” He doesn’t respond and you resist the urge to exhibit any signs of your growing impatience. “You asked to speak with me—I’m assuming you want something.”

“I have information you want,” Loki states, his eyes boring into yours and sending a prickling sensation down your skin. His intense gaze is unnerving, and you feel as if you’re being intensely scrutinized. “You have information I want. I propose a trade.”

You’re not surprised by the remark, save for the idea that you have something he wants. “I’m not quite sure what information I could give you,” you frown, shifting your balance slightly to keep your body occupied. You cross your arms over your chest and pretend you don’t feel entirely vulnerable in front of Loki. 

“I’ll be the one to determine that,” the god says. His next statement is entirely unexpected. “Now, tell me about yourself, your childhood.”

“What?” You choke out. “About myself? I don’t see how that’s relevant.” You break off. Loki’s gaze is focused on you with burning intensity. You take a shuddering breath in and try to summon some information that isn’t dangerous for you to disclose. “I’m a criminal investigator—have been for years. I’m from around here, grew up here.” You end up settling for a mix of ambiguity and omission. Loki seems to pick up on it regardless. 

“Don’t lie to me.” His gaze is dark and dangerous. It suddenly feels as if the temperature dropped in the space around you. You’re pinned under the god’s watchful eyes. “I think I deserve more than that, don’t you?” You can’t find the words to answer. You have, once again, severely underestimated Loki’s capabilities. 

“Very well, then,” Loki murmurs some time later, after it’s clear that you’re unwilling to give him more information. His posture is effortlessly casual, but you know it’s just a façade. “I can start for you. You worked as a criminal investigator for years in your hometown, until you decided to become an FBI agent. With more responsibility came more criminals, and closer calls. Even so, you began to gain notoriety for your cases. Your name appears in more and more press coverage. Meanwhile, Nick Fury grows increasingly frustrated with me, with the lack of information. He sees you on the morning news and finds his perfect solution. He calls you here to New York, tells you that he needs you for this pivotal role. An exaggeration, of course.”

“You agree with his offer—surely, you don’t have any other choice. Meanwhile, Fury promptly forgets your existence, until he needs you once more. A tool in a toolbox is all you are to him. Why else would he send you to me? He doesn’t have faith in your abilities, Agent—he just needs bait.”

You know it’s true, but it still hurts. Truthfully, you had suspected the same thing; something about the Norse god speaking on your thoughts cements them in reality. Indeed, why else would Fury have called you in? There are plenty of high-ranking officials that would’ve been better suited for such a task. 

“You come in here and provoke me,” Loki continues, as if you aren’t even there. He seems entirely in his element as he paces about his cell. “I attack you, then break out of captivity. A group of agents lurks outside to interrupt my eventual escape. The whole thing is laughably predictable, really.” Your eyes widen as you realize just why the security guard lingered outside the door. They aren’t guarding the door—it’s secure enough on its own. They’re guarding you, waiting for you to fail and for Loki to escape. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. 

“And, of course, you have a visceral desire for Fury’s approval,” he continues, repeating what you said to him mere days ago. You feel as if a bucket of ice cold water was just dumped all over you, making you shiver and question everything you thought you knew. Are you really so formulaic? Have you been lured into a false sense of confidence these past few years? You try to grapple with these questions, while the god stares at you. “Am I ‘in the ballpark,’ as you mortals say?” There’s a sharp grin on Loki’s face that deeply unsettles you. 

It takes you several moments to collect your composure and find the words to say. “I think you know you are,” you respond, ignoring your heart pounding out of your chest. It’s unnerving that Loki could glean that much about you in such a short time span. Despite his obvious attempt at mockery, you know that you need to answer his questions if you want information. You keep silent and wait for Loki to continue. 

“Now, you still haven’t given me anything,” Loki reminds you, dispelling any hope that he may have forgotten. You feel extremely restless and steadily avoid his gaze, even when you feel his eyes practically tearing holes through your form. “So, I ask once more: what was your childhood like?”

You can’t afford to argue this time—not if you want information. The glint in Loki’s eyes grows brighter with each tidbit you give him. At his request, you tell him about your past—everything from your childhood home to the relationships you have with your family. Time becomes fickle and you don’t realize you’re oversharing until you glance down at your watch and see that far too much time has passed.  “That’s more than enough,” you interject some time later. You don’t feel as if you can truly grasp the severity of your actions just now. Even so, you know that you’ve given him too much ammunition. You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache developing. “It’s your turn.”

“Very well,” Loki responds, his lips parting to reveal a crooked smirk. The expression on his face confirms your suspicions that he was planning on continuing the conversation until you stopped him. “I will answer two of your questions.” You feel your heart drop. 

“Two?” You exclaim in disbelief, “You must’ve asked me a hundred just now-”

“I didn’t force you to answer any of my questions,” Loki reasons. Unfortunately, he’s correct in that regard—you should’ve been more wary. You let your guard down and he was content to take advantage of it. “Now, do you want information or not?”

You grit your teeth. Damn it. Two questions is a very insignificant number. You try to remember what Fury told you mere minutes before. “He’s been extremely disagreeable… and we’re running out of time.” You can’t afford to slip up here. 

“Fine,” you say. The look on Loki’s face doesn’t change, but you can still sense arrogance radiating off of him. “Why?” You decide to ask. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Loki drawls, continuing to pace about. He looks completely and utterly bored. “Why does one do anything?” You resist an eye roll. 

“Why did you do it?” You rephrase. You don’t need to specify for Loki to understand what you’re referring to: the attack on New York, the Chitauri invasion. Surely, knowing his motivations would help S.H.I.E.L.D. prevent instances like it from happening in the future. Besides, you’re not sure what else to ask. As has been established, you don’t think you’re the best fit for this task of vital importance. 

“I was seeking revenge,” Loki answers without hesitation. His unblinking gaze is beginning to unnerve you. “Is that what you’d like me to say?”

“I’d like you to tell the truth,” you assert, unable to hide some of your irritation. The god picks up on it and smiles infuriatingly, as if your annoyance is entertaining. Perhaps it is entertaining to him. You take a deep breath and remind yourself to keep calm. It would do you no good to get riled up. You have one job: collecting information. 

“The truth,” Loki remarks languidly, tearing you from your thoughts. His answer comes without hesitation. “I was bored.” Boredom. Boredom pushed him to wreak havoc on the city, causing hundreds of casualties and inordinate bloodshed. Loki was motivated by a lack of fulfillment. The thought is extremely disconcerting. On the one hand, you’re not sure what you were expecting. On the other, you had been looking for a more clear-cut, legitimate reason to contextualize his actions. You weren’t planning on excusing his crimes, but if he provided something that seemed to somewhat justify his reaction, you would’ve been able to get more information and also deduce a clear motive to these kinds of attacks. Perhaps that was your error in thinking, though: Loki can’t be a predictor of a pattern. He is wildly unpredictable, and trying to predict him will both waste your time and result in more frustration.

“One more question,” Loki reminds you tauntingly. You grit your teeth, pushing past your irritation. The god seems to enjoy emphasizing the differences between you and him—your mortality, your weakness.  

You try to think a little harder. Admittedly, a particular question has been weighing on your mind throughout most of your interactions, burrowing into your subconscious and refusing to let go. After a few moments, you decide to verbalize it. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

The god laughs. “Haven’t I?” Loki asks in response. A shiver rolls down your spine. You watch warily as he takes one step forward, then another. From what you’ve seen, the god will often pace about his cell. However, his current movements make it seem as if he has a purpose, an endgame. Loki’s eyes flash. He takes another step forward and his foot crosses the threshold where the glass is supposed to be. Loki grins and crosses the entirety of the boundary, before looking at you with a truly malicious smile. He’s free from captivity.  

You can’t even take a step backwards before the god is there, extending a hand to your temple and pressing his fingertips past your skin, into your very being. And suddenly, you’re a child again. Everything you told Loki is rushing through your head all at once. You’re trapped in vivid memories. The world around you is blurred with childlike joy and hope. Your surroundings all seem to fall away; despite your knowledge that you aren’t a child anymore, you can’t escape this onslaught of memory that Loki seemed to force on you. 

When Loki removes his hand from your temple, you nearly choke on your breath. There’s an excruciating pain running through your head—strong enough to make you lose your balance. Despite the fact that you’re horribly outmatched, you still try to get away from him. You’re not sure what the God of Mischief wants, but you doubt it’s anything good. This interest—as Fury said—that he’s cultivated in you… It’s dangerous. 

You should be dead right now. Surely, were you any other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, your corpse would be slowly decaying on the ground in front of you. You heard whispers of what Loki did to some of the agents that spoke to him before you. One of them was directly admitted to a mental hospital—unable to ground themself in reality. The thought shakes you to your core. 

You take another step backwards, only for him to match your retreat with a step forward. Your balance is growing more and more unsteady as you try to fight against the vertigo threatening to send you tumbling. Your vision is oscillating between painful sharpness and indiscernible blurriness. “What do you want from me?” You manage to spit out through the pained haze. 

“Everything.” Loki answers. Before you can push him away, he’s bringing a hand to your temple again. Your mind explodes with energy and you feel your eyelids fluttering shut of their own accord. You try your hardest to remain conscious and you manage to catch glimpses: Loki’s hand slipping from your temple as you fall to the ground, Loki carrying you out of the building. You’re stuck in the recesses of your own mind, with no hope for escape. Eventually, you’re forced to succumb to the darkness lurking in the corners of your vision.

It may strike you all as strange that Loki stays in captivity rather than escaping, but I think I can justify that with a multitude of reasons. First of all, he's immortal—time passes differently for him. While a mortal may agonize at the thought of being trapped in a capsule for an indefinite time, Loki is entirely unbothered by it. He knows that he has the ability to escape; the question then becomes when he will escape, not if he will escape. Second, Loki has a reason to stay: the reader. He is interested in the reader [the nature of this interest is up to you]. He enjoys the conversations they have, especially when they’re under the false guise of him being trapped and in a position of need. The God of Mischief isn’t one to rush things. Anyway, that’s how I justified these choices to myself. *shrugs*

I desperately wanted to add something like this, but I couldn’t find an authentic moment for it… It may seem a little out of character, too… So I’ll throw it here and walk away:

“You should put some ointment on that,” Loki suggests, looking pointedly at the scar on your face. “Don’t Midgardians care about that sort of thing? Quite foolish, in my opinion.” “How is that foolish?” You ask. “Scars are proof of conquest,” Loki responds. “Of course,” you sigh.

#loki x reader #loki x gn reader #loki laufeyson #loki x male reader #male reader #gn reader #x male reader #nb reader #etc

[lizziecanrailme]

『First Love/Late Spring』

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda is renewing her feelings of past events.

Warning: Insecurities | grieving | westview mentions | Wanda is a sad girl |

A/N: The title is inspired by “First Love/Late Spring” by Mitski.

―☆―

Wanda let out a shaky breath, turning on her side. Her body shuttered as she woke up from anything nightmare, a memory.

A memory of westview.

Where she hurt so many people.

Where she lost her family.

It’s been years since westview, since the horrific incident took place.

It was suppose to be a town where she and vision grew old together. Where they’d have a happy life as a couple, as parents, maybe even grandparents.

But of course that didn’t happen. It was taken away from her.

For once she wished she could have something for herself. She wished she could just be happy.

She tried to push those feelings down, because she’s moved on. She has you.

So why couldn’t she let go?

Why couldn’t she just forget about it. Actually move on and be happy with what she has.

She’d never understand

▂▂▂▂▂

You sighed as you entered you & wanda’s home. You both moved in together a couple months back. Wanda has been distant recently, which you didn’t judge her for. Everyone needed space sometimes, especially her. After all she’s went through, she needed her times of thinking.

When you heard complete silence, you weren’t exactly worried. You were just a little uneasy, so you put your stuff down and went to the bedroom. As you watched through the corridor, you heard little sniffles and muffled sobs. Eyebrows immediately furrowing, you put a pep in your step.

Once you reached the door that was cracked open, you peeked inside. Your face forming a sympathetic look. You lightly knocked on the door, so she was aware of your presence.

Her body froze, her breathing making an attempt to slow down. You entered the room, slowly making your way to her.

The bed creaked when you sat on it. You just sat there, looking at her with uncertainty. A few minutes passed before she turned to you. Her eyes were puffy and red, along with her face. Tears tracks are dried on her face.

It was a heartbreaking sight, seeing her so vulnerable. Even after all the times you’ve seen her emotions exposed, it always made your heart break. Soon her voice broke the silence, “I miss them.” It was a clear statement.

Her boys, oh, how precious they sounded. From all the stories she told of them, they must’ve been amazing kids.

She didn’t talk of vision much, unless you asked. You never felt jealous when she spoke of him. He was her first love, even if he was a synthezoid. He made her feel loved and important, he was and still is a major part of her life.

“All I wanted was him, all I wanted was a family.” she said. You didn’t say anything, wanting her to continue. “That’s all I wanted, but I was hurting people in the process.”

Shes talked about westview before, about how the accident changed a lot in her life. About how she hurt people, how she was hated by them. She has hurt people, but you still loved her.

It was complicated for Wanda, she wondered how you could love her. After all the pain she caused.

“Yes you’ve hurt people, but you tried to fix the situation. You’ve made mistakes, but who hasn’t? And besides, in the end you let them go, because you knew it was wrong.”

That’s what you said the last time you both had this conversation. It gave her some reassurance, but she wasn’t so sure now.

“Wanda, I know I can’t convince you to love yourself. But I want you to know that I love you. No matter how many mistakes you’ve made, I will always be by your side. You’re my whole world, and I hope you know that.”

Wanda was speechless, her eyes burning with tears. Her green eyes stared at you with so many mixed emotions. Much of the despair disappeared from her body, but some remained.

She’s hurt so many people around her, she’s afraid she’ll hurt you. Like she hurt vision, how she hurt the people in Lagos and in westview.

She was dangerous, just like Tony said.

But she loved you so much, how could she hurt you? She’d never hurt you on purpose and she’d never want to on accident. She’d do absolutely anything for you.

She was silent for a while as your words sunk in. She eventually fell forward and buried herself into your stomach. You smiled slightly, bringing your lips down to her forehead, giving her multiple kisses. This action wasn’t much, but to her it was everything.

Vision might’ve been her first love.

But you’re her late spring.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #hurt/comfort #wanda maximoff hurt/comfort #tiny angst #nvm I take that back #Wanda misses vision #and her boys #wandavision

[jeongonion]

I Will

Pairing: Alexandra Cabot/Casey Novak

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 5090

Note: this is my first time writing a fic so please tell me how to improve and enjoy! (title and story are both inspired by Mitski's song)

Alex had profusely denied Casey's invitation for dinners the longer she's gotten into the sex crimes bureau. Alex also hadn't noticed the absence of Casey simply because of the pending cases she's about to prosecute, it would be unfair if each of them didn't have her dedicated attention. Could you blame a gal if she has this unhealthy behavior of sticking her nose to the far end until she loses herself? And besides, the people of New York could really be cutting her some slack if they could only keep their hands to themselves.

She keeps going back and forth into Casey's last message that she left on read a week ago, asking for lunch together. It was already in the middle of the night when she noticed she stayed too long in her office, only noticed the metal, that's barely as long as her thumb, in the corner of her pocket when she was looking for the key card of her own apartment. Uttered a curse when it dawned who would slip the key in her formal attire. It was the same royal blue blazer she wore after spending the night at Casey's two weeks ago.

Knowing it was an ungodly hour and Casey's probably far too deep in her sleep hadn't crossed her mind until she was slipping the same key she held onto on her long walk to the said woman's door. She was already too far gone when she even realized she should've at least changed into flats before she came down to see her girlfrie—is that what we are to each other?

Alex asks herself as she stares at Casey's sleeping form, taking her time, just appreciating the favors softball does to one's body.

Casey developed being a light sleeper after incidents with an ex, but that kind of topic was not something she would open up in this stage of their relationship, at least, not yet. "Al?" Too awake to go back to sleep now but too sleepy to even form the full two syllables the name of the person she was calling out to.

Casey wonders if Alex knew why she was laying there, unmoved like a log when she held her from behind, hopes that Alex was some kind of psychic that can get through the depths of her mind and know that she was afraid that a single nudge would make her disappear into thin air, as if she was having delusions like Charlie had been experiencing because admittedly, her time with homicide cases are driving her a bit insane.

The said woman wondered why she didn't like how others refer to her by just a syllable alone, but with Casey, it'll suffice.  "Just me." Alex whispered, her guilt resurfacing to the thought of leaving her hanging. The last thing she wants to do is make Casey think she'd only want her for the benefits of her company, yet her actions prove the opposite.

Alex heard her hum, knowing it was to let her know Casey acknowledges her existence. "I'm sorry..."

Casey's system jolted mainly for hearing Alexandra Cabot apologizing, a quarter of it was because of the cold lips pressed on her nape, but she remained unwaveringly placid when she replied. "Whatever for?"

Alex mumbled her apologies, the younger latter wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or if she was lulling her back to sleep. "I should've at least let you know why I wasn't able to go out with you..." Or maybe she was just as exhausted as she. Casey blindly reached behind to pat Alex's hair to let her know she appreciates the exhibited honesty of her words.

"I understand." And truly, she does. Still, they weren't in a fully committed relationship, Casey couldn't ask her of such a thing. But even so, she wanted to let Alex know her actions had made her feel, no matter how unintentional, abandoned. Her thoughts came to a halt when she felt her nape getting wet.

With her new case, it wasn't easy to ignore that her life might truly be in danger this time. "I was scared that if people saw me with you," Alex released a shuddering breath. "they'd come for you to get through me." She managed to finish off her rambling mess of an excuse as she tried to shrug off the images of seeing Casey appearing in the missing persons' reports or handling a newly staged case with Casey as the victim or television broadcasting an attack in Casey's apartment or her cold body laying at Melinda's table or—

"Oh Alex..." The blaring noise in her head blocked out any possible sound of Casey turning to face her, her fingernails digging into the duvet protecting her beloved from freezing from the night breeze. Casey untangled them from the material ever so gently, guiding her now flat hand to the left side of her chest. "I'm right here..." She's here, she's right here in front of you Alex. You can feel her. "with you." With you, she's right here with you. Alive and well.

Alex couldn't stop her burst of sobs in time, they indicated the fears she hadn't fully disclosed to the woman that pulled her right away and cooed at her as if she was a mother cradling her child for comfort. Alex bit her bottom lip, swallowing her cries and apprehensive "what ifs" as she lets herself be rocked like how her nanny used to when she was upset. She pushes away her thoughts down the very deep end the human mind would let—because what matters is Casey, her Casey who rubs her thumb to ease the sting from the moon shaped crescents on the palm of her hand. Her Casey who stares lovingly at her to remind her that what matters is now. Her Casey who keeps her grounded before she could even dig deeper into the cruel future. Her Casey who kisses her tears away so that any trace of evident weakness from counselor Cabot stays concealed, kept from everyone to witness what was once there.

Casey closes her eyes and held her a little tighter than she ever did, she didn't fully understand the reason for Alex to refrain the truth from her nor still put on a facade to voice out her fears, but she knows better than to pry out the answers for her curiosity.

And so she stares out at the window pane of her room, the night hearing Casey's silent oath to never let people get through Alex. Oh Alex, her Alex—a woman of juxtapositions; relentless yet kind, cold yet warm, beautiful yet deadly.

And she had figured, she'd embrace death just as so if it was just as beautiful.

For now, Casey lets herself succumb into her own thoughts so when Alex wakes up, she'll be able to face her fears for her.

#alex cabot #casey novak #calex #svu #law and order svu

[inlocusmads]

"one word from you and I would..." ~ emma x trystan

.. or how Trystan and Emma's lives melt into each other after they move in together.

wc: 1.6k | general audiences

a/n: So basically I got talking with @thosehallowedhalls about a recent drabble she'd written and Caro wanted me to write something for T and E. So.. I hope I did them justice lmao. Once again please excuse any glaring grammar errors. I didn't have a chance to edit it properly because I was too excited to share.

title inspired by 'first love/late spring' by mitski

Changes took time.

Trying to get luggage up two floors in spite of elevator assistance also took time.

You would call the first few days the honeymoon period. Emma and Trystan shared many slow morning breakfasts. It was an easier commute to work. The bags weren't unpacked just yet - there was still time for that. Theatre date nights- first class seats only to come back home and talk about it late into the night.

A few pieces of clothing were unpacked but for the most part, the bags stayed near the doorway. No. There were more important things to focus on. Mainly a relationship with cohabitation. Mornings with the sun gently caressing their face. Evenings spent curled up for warmth, until somebody woke up in the middle of the night to turn off the lamps.

There was always this certain amount of life that welcomed Emma into her new home. Whether it be Trystan talking loudly into his phone or soft “mmhmm” when she came back after a particularly long work day, there was something special about this. Trystan also had a skip to his step, as if he couldn't believe the penthouse could finally permanently echo the sounds of Emma's voice and the way she moved, a water's rushing pace but enough to make loud footsteps that he had etched in memory.

And yet the bags collected dust.

“You know, we should probably do something about it.”

“Where do we start?”

Trystan made her space for a closet. It all felt too much all too soon for Emma, of course. To get used to the height of luxury and have her requirements taken care of was such a whiplash from the survival game she spent playing even whilst asleep, in her apartment. A waltz, almost. Trying to get her things fit into Trystan's apartment without stepping on his toes. She quickly realised Try

stan played a similar game. He was careful to accommodate her with this certain deftness as of a gymnast. Constantly sandwiching his things on top of other things to make more space. Giving her enough room on the bed and almost falling off the ledge. It felt so new, so raw to him that it didn't occur till the third or fourth week that there was still this distinct divide between his life and Emma's.

Emma took her breakfasts at seven or eight in the morning. She consumed things that didn't need refrigeration and hence they all sat idly in a forgotten corner. Her clothes were shades of red, black and grey and stood so far away from Trystan's, nearest to the closet door almost. As if they were trying to imply to their hardest of abilities that they belonged to a stranger, almost. Emma's coffee mugs were open on the counter whereas Trystan's sat proudly on their little designated racks.

There was still a very distinct divide.

“You know, we should do something about it. You can have the fridge- you can - put things up on it-”

“But you know I am already feeling much at home.”

“-- make yourself at home. And I would like to have something up there. Something of yours”

“okay. Okay. Sure. Upon your request.”

Trystan was good with words. Sometimes. Emma could only laugh at how flustered he became at how direct and awfully poignant he was being. He wanted to do a good job, as if he were some sort of party host. Nevertheless to ease his concerns, Emma pasted a little picture of the earliest photo of their partnership from her camera roll. It was one of them both taken by Uncle Tommy in front of the Drunk Tank. Both a little loopy in their heads following Emma's discharge. It felt good to put that up. Ensure Trystan was as included in her life as he took initiative for her. She would have gone with a Shakespeare quote but it didn't hit the same way.

Mornings went by great. Waking up to grab her mug from the countertop and milk from the fridge, a small smile whenever she saw the picture. And yet somehow there was this sense of emptiness to it. A little unsettling when she would watch the sun rise, baking the buildings in the New York City skyline from Trystan's balcony. It didn't feel quite at home yet. Perhaps Trystan was right. She'd checked off all the boxes, yes, but it was a lull period. The slowing down of the enthusiasm of moving in, coupled with the anxiety of locking horns with each other over accommodating each other's habits.

Changes took time.

Emma tended to wake up a little early. When Trystan reached for his cup of coffee, the milk wouldn't be near the fridge as it always would have been. Emma left her phone to charge in the study which would clash with Trystan if he'd ever been in the mood to get some reading done - a hundred missed calls and a hundred more. Trystan took longer showers, which greatly annoyed Emma. He had certain blanket preferences which would leave her cold and dry or too warm for comfort.

But perhaps they would leave each other a kiss goodnight everyday, knowing they'd learned a little more about the other than the day before.

Trystan now knew Emma got up early to enjoy some sunrise. She took her coffee in a specific way. She left her phone charge facedown, perhaps a little concerned about the sheer number of notifications from Ticketmaster and other apps about new theatrical adaptations near her area. Emma learned Trystan took longer showers due to its therapeutic value. He took the blankets to find a source of comfort; self-assurance and safety contained in the enclosure of a weighted blanket.

Changes took time.

“You know we should do something about it.”

“We are not going to IKEA at the crack of dawn in the morning.” Emma groaned. “I think we can tackle it if we just sort things out.”

“It’s -- everything is everywhere. And you said no to getting a shelf.”

“No shelves. We're tackling this from the ground up.”

“And I am assuming we cannot avail our penthouse’s cleaning services either?”

“Trystan. It's our stuff. And it isn't going to take too long.”

Every relationship has its own twist in the road. A turning point. Something pivotal. For Trystan and Emma, there had been a number of them. Never had they expected one such culmination of change to occur during something simple as a closet reorganisation. Suddenly the house had shredded its old skin behind to adapt something entirely different. Things were moved around, so one could find Emma's legal pad on the kitchen countertop conveniently next to Trystan's charging port. Mugs were no longer designated by ownership. Emma, under earlier circumstances would have never forgiven herself had she taken one of Trystan's mugs and yet there she was, on a bright Sunday morning, drinking hot beverage from a cup that no longer bore a name. That no longer needed to.

The desk she had from Trystan's study had a shiny new plaque on it. A gift. Emma. It said, in bright letters, almost informal. Away from the constraints of Rose. Mails were few and sparse and mostly went to Trystan, addressed simply as Trystan. Packages came by - addressed to them both and Emma's heart leapt everytime it bore her name followed by her address. Her address now. Their things.

And yet of course as well as things blended in together, they were still distinct on their own. Not so much of a divide that is, rather the simplest acknowledgement of their differences. Food arranged neatly in cabinets with one more person's dietary needs to take into account. Their regular cutlery and utensils sat on opposite ends of the same rack, optimal for a quick meal or two. Detergents in the laundry room came in two different colours and fragrances, specifically catered to Trystan's blazers and Emma's leather jackets.

Walls had their emptiness replaced with pictures. The ones Emma took had a distinct blur across the edges while the ones Trystan took had saturation. The refrigerator didn't just end with one piece of artwork on it, rather a collection of things they'd seen and pocketed. A takeout menu from a shop they really liked. Trystan's very first photograph of the New York City skyline matched with Emma's picture of the skyline from the balcony of her new home. Sunrises to look forward to. Sunsets to sleep soundly to. The pictures brought it to life, along with solid-colour throwaway pillows on the couch complementary to beautiful embroidery work on the couches themselves. A warm fireplace fed into, with a mantle on top with Emma's private eye licence.

It took eight weeks. Eight weeks for Trystan to convince himself he knew everything about Emma only to get thwarted with new information on how she preferred her vegetables. Eight weeks for Emma to convince herself there could not be more of a mystery to Trystan, only for her to want to keep solving for clues over and over again- at the slightest hint of his signature perfume.

“I’ll be honest - I cannot believe it took me such a short time to get used to this.” Emma confessed.

“Short time? If I can be honest, it took me longer to adjust to this. I felt like I had to somehow study your behaviour - to kind of understand what you like and what you don't.”

“It's been easy for me. You're kind of an open book.”

“I seem to be an open book but - perhaps it was just easier for you-- given you can see a part of me from my home.”

“That is probably it. I don't know - it's - it's nice seeing you in your natural habitat. It's so strange- you know? Seeing you here. I am almost convinced you walk out with a mask on.”

“Don't we all?”

“Well - I'm just - y'know - thankful and-”

“Oh shut it.” Trystan refused to accept her thanks, adding a little milk to her coffee just the way she liked it.

Changes took time.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! I really hope I did Trystan and Emma's characters some justice if not none lmao.

Tagging my list here:

perma: @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @dutifullynuttywitch

crimes only: @trappedinfanfiction @moominofthevalley

#trystan x emma #w:inlocusmads #gifts for friends #crimes of passion

[rodlaveraryna]

giving music to the atp top ten minus that one person! inspired by @faeryaester :)

01. novak djokovic ★ apex predator — barrett wilbert weed, erika henningsen ☆ octet in e-flat major: iv. presto — felix mendelssohn ★ first — everglow

02. carlos alcaraz ☆ non-stop — original broadway cast of hamilton ★ take me home — ateez ☆ violin concerto no. 1: i. allegro maestoso–tempo giusto — niccolo paganini ★ promise — everglow ☆ liebesfreud — fritz kreisler

03. daniil medvedev ★ champagne problems — taylor swift ☆ la di da — everglow ★ the great mermaid — le sserafim ☆ the voyevoda, op. 78 — pyotr ilych tchaikovsky ★ chill kill — red velvet

04. jannik sinner ☆ violin concerto in d minor: i. allegro moderato — jean sibelius ★ first love/late spring — mitski ☆ veni vidi vici — cravity ★ wait for it — leslie odom jr., original broadway cast of hamilton ☆ i just — red velvet ★ liebesleid — fritz kreisler

05. andrey rublev ☆ pink in the night — mitski ★ nouvelle vague — wave to earth ☆ this is me trying — taylor swift ★ kingdom come — red velvet

06. holger rune ☆ tzigane, m. 76 — maurice ravel ★ maniac — conan gray ☆ i got a boy — girls’ generation ★ pirate — everglow

07. hubert hurkacz ☆ dance with you tonight — laufey ★ slut! — taylor swift ☆ ditto — newjeans

08. taylor fritz ★ satisfied — renee elise goldsberry, original broadway cast of hamilton ☆ midnight driver — fromm ★ island — youha ☆ francis forever — mitski

09. stefanos tsitsipas ★ nobody — mitski ☆ questions for the universe — laufey ★ anywhere but home — seulgi

most of these were chosen based on vibes/sound, not titles or lyrics haha

#tennis #novak djokovic #carlos alcaraz #daniil medvedev #jannik sinner #andrey rublev #holger rune #hubert hurkacz #taylor fritz #stefanos tsitsipas #sorry if my taste is basic lmao

[mitskinaturalbang]

Title: all i ever wanted (is here)

Author: averysoftno (purgaytorysupremacy on Tumblr)

Artist: e-mio

Song: I Will 

Posting date: April 25, 2024

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Any archive warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Top 10 main tags: Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural), Not Canon Compliant with Episode: s15e20 Carry On (Supernatural), as in it didn’t happen okay?, Comfort No Hurt, Angst and Feels, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Inspired by a Mitski Song

Summary: After Castiel confessed his love for Dean Winchester and was condemned to The Empty for eternity. After Sam and Dean Winchester save the whole damn world. (Again.) After all the people who were snapped came back, getting back to their lives never knowing the world ended. After Sam and Eileen got together and Dean spent the required amount of time drinking himself stupid. After all that, Dean pulled Castiel back to Earth.

They may be covered in thick black ooze and years of Almosts and Maybes, but that’s all over now. They’re in the After, and in the After, they don’t have to be brave. They can save each other instead.

#submission #mitskinatural #supernatural #mitskinaturalbang23

[cruelsuhmer]

unraveling velvet

This is a repost of one of the fics from my previous blog. I am the original author of this fic and thus have full permission to post it here. Minor revisions have been made.

word count: 2.9k

pairings: jaehyun x reader 

genre & au: angst w/ a happy ending, university au

warnings: none

a/n: originally for @/flirtyhyuck (now deactivated). inspired by mitski’s “lonesome love” and “washing machine heart.” the title sounds kind of smutty, but this fic is rated g, i prommy.

You don’t expect to see Jaehyun much after a chance encounter on the roof, but he’s everywhere, and it’s not long before all you can think about is him: his smile, his eyes, his dimples, and the way a simple hello from him feels like velvet against your ears.

For you, Jung Jaehyun is becoming a problem—a very big, very beautiful one.

“You know, they usually lock the doors here.”

The voice startles you, your shoes scraping across the tiles of the roof, producing an ungodly noise that breaks the quiet of the night more than the voice ever could. You look over to see Jung Jaehyun, moonlight illuminating his profile, a silver halo around his head and starlight in his hair. Your breath catches.

Jaehyun continues, “Surprised they left it unlocked tonight.”

After your embarrassing scramble, you tuck your legs against your chest, crossing your arms over your knees. “Really?” Jaehyun nods, and you look out across campus, seeing a lone night jogger crossing the street and two friends stumbling across the commons. “Safety reasons?”

Jaehyun laughs, shrugging. “More or less. Ghosts, too.”

Your legs tense, and your nails dig into the tiles. Jaehyun gives another chuckle, and you turn to glare at him. Relaxed, he’s stretched back, arms out behind him, a smile on his lips. He looks over to you, a slight tilt of the head. When you speak, your voice shakes. “What do you mean?”

“What else can I mean?” Jaehyun lifts his chin, eyes on the stars. “Apparently it happened back in the ‘70s. I don’t know. A senior hasn’t told you this already?”

You shake your head.

Jaehyun sighs. “Let me think. I’ve heard the full thing, just been awhile.”

You nod, and a minute passes of you staring at Jaehyun with wide eyes, heart pounding in your chest, him humming quietly to himself as he tries to remember the full story.

After another few seconds, he sits up, angling himself so he can look at you properly. You readjust, too, getting as comfortable as you can, knowing the story you’re about to hear won’t be a happy one. Jaehyun smiles before he begins, like that’ll help—it only makes you feel sick, an explosion in your chest. When he tells the story, he leaves in all the gory details, and after an explicit description on the student’s mangled fingers, you’re starting to wonder if he’s adding to the lore himself. Despite this, you find yourself enthralled. The night passes quickly after that, and when you realize the time, you’re rushing to head back inside the dorm, class in less than an hour.

You don’t expect to see Jaehyun much after that, him a year above you and the night on the roof a chance encounter, with you stressed about upcoming midterms and Jaehyun apparently one to frequent the roof. But you do see him. Often.

You see him on your way to class, you see him in the cafeteria, in the library, in the computer lab—you even see him in one of your block courses, though you’ve never noticed him before (and that was the hardest part to believe, especially now, with the way your eyes are drawn to him like clockwork).

And every time you look, he looks too, greeting you with a bright smile on his face, dimples ever so charming. It almost makes you dislike him. The reality, however, is that he quickly becomes the only thing on your mind, midterms a mere worry shoved to the back, completely covered by thoughts of his smile, his eyes, his dimples, and the way a simple hello from him feels like velvet against your ears.

It gets to the point of an intervention. On your way out of a Jaehyun-less class, the professor calls your name. You about-face, brows raised in a silent question, and your professor smiles, polite.

“Are you alright?” she asks, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your forearm.

You fight the urge to shrug it off.

“You seem distracted,” she continues.

You realize then that Jung Jaehyun is becoming a problem—a very big, very beautiful one.

When Tuesday rolls around, you stride into your block course—a power-walk if your classmates have ever seen one—barely giving your professor a nod before your eyes lock on Jaehyun. Like every other time, he’s already looking at you, and, like every other time, that dumb smile lights up his face. You come to a stop right in front of his desk.

“Hi,” he greets. His smile stretches the tiniest bit wider, making his dimples pop and his eyes disappear into crescents. The worst part is the new set of dimples that appear, like whiskers around his nose. They’re precious, and he looks precious, and despite your best efforts, your heart stutters in your chest. Great.

You glare for another second before pivoting and dropping your things on the desk next to his. Begrudgingly, you take a seat. “Hi,” you finally reply. Then, Dr. Han rises from his chair, turning on the projector and starting the class. The lesson is an important one—in fact, it will be on the final; Dr. Han takes great care in saying this, pausing every couple of equations to repeat it. Jaehyun never looks away from your face.

When class ends, you gather your things, the fight having left you, your drive to rid yourself of your Jaehyun-shaped problem gone without a trace, but Jaehyun stops you with a hand on your wrist. You look down, and he immediately lets go, an apology falling from his lips.

“Sorry,” he says again, “I was just wondering,” and a smile, smaller this time, makes a brief appearance on his face, “if you’d maybe want to get coffee or something. Tomorrow. With me?”

You have classes most of tomorrow. You really don’t have time. You need to water your dog and walk your plants. You should tell him this.

“Sounds good,” you say instead.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen like he expected you to say no—and you blanch at the memory of your attitude at the start of class; if he had asked then, you would have said no—before he smiles, dimples flashing. “Great. Is two okay?”

You have a class at two.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Jaehyun’s smile only grows, and you find yourself smiling back, even as unease settles low in your stomach. “That’s really great.” When Jaehyun’s tongue swipes just barely at his lower lip, your eyes take in the movement like a man starved. “Meet outside the dorm?”

You nod, and your smile stays for another second, before you turn to go, ducking your head at Jaehyun’s delayed great, and you’re about to leave, finally, when Jaehyun makes a small noise.

“Wait.”

You freeze, then turn back around. In an outstretched hand, Jaehyun holds your pencil case.

“It fell out of your bag,” he says, lips curled at the corners. “Probably not good to lose.”

“No,” you reply, “it’s not.” When you take it, your fingers brush his. The air conditioning has started; goosebumps spread on your skin. You look at him from under your lashes. He’s already looking at you. You snatch your hand back, deciding to just hold onto the case rather than putting it up. A stuttered thanks falls from your lips before you finally spin precariously on your heel and hurry to your next class.

Tomorrow comes before you’re ready, and you find yourself rushing across the commons with your backpack hitting you uncomfortably in your lower back, a steady thump, thump, thump that will ache for the days. You keep moving.

Until you see Jaehyun. Your heels dig into the soft earth and your backpack makes one final jab into you. The pain doesn’t register. Jaehyun’s head is tossed back, laughter bubbling from his lips, while his arm wraps tighter around a stranger’s shoulders. He doesn’t see you. His laugh follows you on the way to class, where you scroll through your phone before realizing you never got his number. You pocket your phone and think about your 2pm. He doesn’t have your number either. You’ve never skipped a class before. It’d be dumb to start now.

Thursday, you return to your usual seat. It doesn’t take long before you feel Jaehyun’s gaze weighing on you. You don’t look back, even when minutes pass and he hasn’t turned away. Class ends, and he still hasn’t let up, so you make a quick escape, slipping through the door before he can reach you. By the time you collapse into your seat two buildings over, your chest is tight, exertion and want putting a strain on you—want, especially.

It’s your own fault—you could have gone to the cafe, you could have talked to him—but you arrange your pencil and pens and highlighters on your desk and you keep your head down and you ignore the ache that’s replaced the heartburn. Most of all, you ignore any and all thoughts of Jaehyun, just like you did to the man himself.

The end of the semester has given up on creeping towards you, opting instead for a full-blown sprint, yet the only thing that has changed are the trees, leaves scattered on the ground for you to kick at and crush. Jaehyun’s heavy gaze is a constant companion, following you wherever you go. Sometimes you slip up and search him out too, as if by instinct, but whenever you happen to catch his eyes, you’re quick to look elsewhere.

Despite these looks, despite the crushing pressure of Jaehyun’s stare, the two of you leave words unsaid. After a week of failed attempts to talk to you following the abandoned coffee date, Jaehyun hasn’t tried to stop you from leaving since. You can’t say you prefer it that way, but it’s better than swallowing your pride and the jumbled ball of feelings that Jaehyun has created in you and facing him, but this acceptance only lasts for so long. Soon, you’re overwhelmed, finals no longer looming over you because they have instead taken you into their claws and are about to swallow you whole. You escape to the roof.

Someone else has escaped there, too.

“Jaehyun,” you breathe. In your stress, you had forgotten his habit, and now Jaehyun is staring you right in the eyes, and you can’t look away. He cuts a lonely figure against the night sky, hair once again threaded with stars. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

“Y/N,” he says. “Hi.”

You make your slow way over to him, unsure how close to sit. You clutch at the tiles. “Hi,” you reply. “It’s been awhile.”

Jaehyun hums, turning back to the sky. You bite your tongue. Your teeth clamp down too tight, but you don’t let up. Jaehyun glances over at you, and you let go. “Exams,” you say.

He tilts his head.

“Good luck.” You look away, out at the sky then down towards the commons. Someone is out there alone, their laptop giving their face a bluish glow. You swallow. “I’m nervous.”

Besides you, Jaehyun huffs out a laugh. You look over. “Me too,” he says.

There’s a second, then, where you see beyond this moment and beyond yourself, and, for that one second, the mess inside you sorts itself into something coherent, but it’s gone in a flash, and all you can do then is bump your shoulder against his. “You’re smart,” you say. “You’ll do fine.”

“Keeping tabs on me?” he asks. A smile curls on his lips and he makes it look so easy.

You duck your head. “Not that hard to find out you’re seen as the smartest student on campus. Not hard to realize it’s true.”

Jaehyun hums, looking down, and, if it weren’t so dark, you’d have noticed the redness of his ears, but you don’t. “Ah,” he gives a soft laugh, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Don’t act shy,” you nudge him again. “It’s not a good look on you.”

The conversation continues, and it actually is easy. You unravel next to Jaehyun, slipping further down the roof, reclining back more and more, tension leaving your body with every word. Jaehyun’s a warm presence at your side, and you swathe yourself in the velvet of his voice. The bitter cold that snaps at your nose is nothing. You close your eyes and smile. It isn’t until the dark gets a bit darker that your eyes snap open and you realize the sun has started to creep over the horizon. Blocking your view, Jaehyun’s arm hovers awkwardly in the air. It falls back to the roof. You look over at him.

“About what I said earlier,” he starts, and you can feel the calm drain from your body.

“What,” you ask, “did you say earlier?” You push yourself up, scooting back up the roof until you can properly meet his eyes.

“I’m not the smartest student on campus,” Jaehyun says. “There’s just something—some things, really—that I can’t figure out.” He looks away first, and the crisp light of morning seems to take the color from his body. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself.

“It might be an exaggeration,” you blink, gaze dropping to your lap, “but it’s not like you’re not smart.” You glance over to see Jaehyun shaking his head, looking out at the horizon. You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut. “Okay,” you try again, tilting your head, “what’s the thing that you can’t figure out?”

Jaehyun smiles, but you don’t feel better at all. “You didn’t show up for coffee,” he says. “I waited an hour for you, by the way. But you never showed.”

There’s a lot of things you could say. You work your lip between your teeth before you answer, “My 2pm is an hour and fifteen minutes.”

It’s grim, the face Jaehyun makes, lips pressed into a straight line and eyes narrowed. He nods, propping an arm up on his knees. “Fair enough.” He takes a breath. “Can I ask why?”

You don’t reply. Jaehyun turns to you. Still, you are quiet. Another heartbeat passes. Jaehyun waits, studying you. Even with the light of the sun, his eyes are unreadable. You huff. You want to snark about attendance being mandatory and how your grades aren’t good enough in that class for you to be risking it, but Jaehyun is stubborn and can play the game. You know that. You give another rough exhale before speaking. “I saw you that morning.”

Jaehyun continues to wait.

“Don’t laugh,” you say, but you don’t give him time to promise he won’t. “I saw you with someone.”

Jaehyun’s brows disappear into his hairline. His lips twitch. “With someone,” he echoes. You bite your lip. His eyes flit to the library. You hold your breath. “Okay.”

Your stomach churns. “You’re making fun of me,” you say. You can see the glint in his eyes now, and it makes you sick, in a way you haven’t felt in awhile. It’s pure bubbles, threatening to burst from your throat in the form of sweet words and whispered confessions. You swallow it down.

“No,” Jaehyun replies, but the word is colored with a laugh. Still, Jaehyun continues: “I’m not. I just… think it’s funny.” He turns to you, then, one foot out to stop him from slipping. His gaze presses into yours. “There isn’t anyone,” he swears. “There hasn’t been. You just… should have said something, alright?” He shakes his head. “After, I mean. I can take being stood up once or twice, but being totally ignored? Ouch.”

A lump has grown in your throat. Saying you don’t have his number will mean nothing. You look away, head dropping.

“I could’ve waited,” Jaehyun continues, “or we could’ve picked a different day. And don’t skip class for me.” When your mouth opens to argue, Jaehyun’s lips stretch, leaving his dimples to indent his face. “You would’ve.”

You look away.

“So give me a time,” Jaehyun finally proposes. “One that works for you. When you don’t have class—or a final, now.”

“I didn’t want to stand you up,” you admit. Jaehyun’s lips twist. You chew your own before deciding. “My first final is tomorrow. When it’s over, I won’t want to think about it at all. It ends at one.”

When you look over, Jaehyun’s smiling, a proper one, illuminating his face quicker than the sun ever could. You smile back. Jaehyun turns away. “Alright.”

You hesitate, but it’s more out of courtesy over anything. When you poke Jaehyun’s shoulder, he looks back at you. You stumble towards him. In the fall, your lips meet his. It’s not the best first kiss, your mouth having gone stale and his teeth clacking against yours, but—your heart squeezes in your chest—it’s not like this kiss will also be the last. You pull away. “I wouldn’t skip a final for you,” you say, “just… by the way. Maybe class—which I didn’t—but not a final.”

Jaehyun’s laugh is vibrant. His hand is warm against your back, where it had slipped just slightly beneath your sweater. “Of course,” he says. “Of course.”

The smile that’s threatened to blossom on your face finally blooms, and you duck your head, tucking it against Jaehyun’s shoulder. You plan to sit back up, maybe even get in another kiss, but Jaehyun’s fingers have started to thread through your hair, and your body finally feels the strain of twenty-four hours awake. You yawn. Jaehyun’s chuckle vibrates through you. It’s a comforting rumble. You fall further into him, and he lets you—sleep comes easy.

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider giving it a reblog!

#jaehyun x reader #nct fanfic #nct oneshots #nct 127 oneshots #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun au #my writing

[the-phantom-author]

Ok one last popstar!gf 😅😅

She writes Me and My Husband by Mitski and ppl think that Hasan got married but it’s literally just a song 😂

She does the same thing as last time! She gets him to listen to it before it’s released and he’s just 😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

Then it gets to the part of the song where she’s like “and I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space, but when he walks in I am loved I am loooved”😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 (if you haven’t listened to the song please do it’s so beautiful especially that part😭)

And he gets goosebumps and is just 😍😭 at his girlfriend because it sound so good and he’s so happy that she feels that way😭😭😭

When the album is released and Hasan films Fear& everyone’s like 👀👀👀 but QT is the only one with guts (and because she’s a huge fan too) to be like “how does it feel to have something so beautiful to be written about you bitch?”

-🥮

As soon as Me and My Husband is released people are looking looking for any sign hat you got married because that's a bold title.

Hasan is the first person that any and all your music gets ran by, he might not understand the specifics of what makes a song good in technicalities, but he can't hide his true feelings about your music, so you know he's a trustworthy source.

I feel like he's always close to tears anytime he hears your music, especially when it's not in a setting where your performing. Like you in your pj's showing him the first finished version of a song just feels so intimate to him. It's a level of vulnerability that he never thought he could achieve.

QT is straight up "You're a bitch, that song is so beautiful and for it to be written about you is insane." Hasan doesn't know how to respond, because he also thinks it's insane that it was inspired by him.

#hasanabi #hasanabi x reader #hasan x reader #🥮 #singer!gf

[daanilion]

LEPacy Challenge ♡

Hi everyone, I know that I said I would refresh my Mitski Legacy Challenge but I got inspired to make my own version of the LEPacy Challenge. If you don't know what this is, it is a legacy challenge where every generation is centered around an expansion pack. This was originally created for The Sims 3 by @simpishly and has been converted to The Sims 4 by the original creator and @anneliesembsims. However, I wanted to make a version of the challenge that is strictly Expansion Packs (with some optional inclusions of other packs).

So, I did. Every generation has 2-5 options of gameplay that come with background stories, goals and requirements. So far it only has 10 generations, which consist of the first 10 Expansion Packs (Get to Work through Snowy Escape). I decided to only do these packs as it creates the perfect number 10 and I do not have the two newest EPs and have not played with Cottage Living yet!

There are also some general rules to the challenge, which are:

No cheats unless the Goals/Requirements say otherwise! (Can use freerealestate for the first home of the first generation but for no generation after)

You must complete every Goal before the next heir is a Young Adult and/or your current heir dies

Can play on any lifespan (normal is recommended)

If the Goals/Requirements do not mention kids, marriage, traits, aspirations, careers, what world to live in etc., that is all up to you

You do not have to follow my background stories and can create your own

The order in which you do the challenge is optional; you can start with Generation 10 and make your ways to Generation 1, mix and match, etc. The whole point is to complete 1 option of each generation, therefore the order does not matter.

Goals/Requirements with options separated by OR simply mean to choose 1 of the options and any that say OPTIONAL are not required and can be added to create more challenge

Anywaysssss... it is way too long for me to type here so I have the Google Doc that I wrote everything on linked in the title and in a link down below. Please tell me if any of the goals/requirements I have created are impossible, incorrect or just extremely difficult to do! Any feedback would be appreciated and if you do not like my version, please follow the versions created by @simpishly and @anneliesembsims! They include other types of packs, not just EPs! Thank you so much and also check out my Mitski Legacy Challenge!

Enjoy :) -> LEPacy Challenge Rules

#legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #simblr #sims #ts4 lepacy #lepacy challenge #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 simblr #challenge #ts4 challenge

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Vanilla Baby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50742040 by Pigeondiie “Pepper and I…. are having a baby!”   God, did those words strike Peter harder than ever. or Your regular forgotten Peter trope where he feels neglected and that Pepper and Tony are going to leave him when Morgan is born. Oopsie. Words: 12577, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Harley Keener, Wade Wilson, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Happy Hogan Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Happy Hogan/Aunt May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Wade Wilson Additional Tags: Happy and May aren’t in the story but they are together, this is important, Kinda, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker listens to Lana Del Rey, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs Therapy, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Parent Tony Stark, Asshole Tony Stark, But only for a bit, he redeems himself, Parent Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark are Siblings (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Well - Freeform, not yet, I Wrote This While Listening to Mitski's Music, Inspired by Lana Del Rey Songs, The title is also a song, Anger, Autumn, Depression, Overthinking, Peter is a D1 overthinker, Cuddling & Snuggling, Running Away, Forgotten Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Whump, Whumptober, Whump, Peter Parker-centric, teenage angst, Not Beta Read, Vanilla, a lot of it, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Ideation, A little, barely any, Surprisingly, How Do I Tag, Betrayal, not really - Freeform, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Tony Stark Lives read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50742040

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark