#unfinished star scream

[ipegchangbin]

Imagine this: Changbin hiding the fact he tried to masturbate thinking his lover was out for too long..forgot to take out the vibrator in him and he tries to lie while holding back the noises..the whole night it's in him moving around and he keeps holding back..but when they are about to sleep his lover asks him if he's hiding anything..this has been in my head and it turns me on

anon. oh my god.

🏷️ sub!changbin. dom!gn!reader. established relationship. sex toys.

it’s so good. way too good to stop. changbin keeps the vibrator inside him while he fists his cock for what seems like forever.

he wishes that the vibrator was being controlled by you, so he recreates your cruelty — and sweetness — by hiding the remote under his pillow while he uses yours between his legs.

but before he could hump the pillow, hell seeps through the crack between the door frame once changbin realizes you’re at the door.

knock, knock, knock.

“binnie, i’m back,” you yawn, stretching your arm as you swing the door open.

oh fucking shit.

changbin isn’t quick enough despite your slow movements. he pulls up his shorts but forgets to turn the vibrator off, so he simply clamps his legs shut with your pillow instead. he looks all sorts of weird, face fully flushed and sweaty, his body covering more than half the bed, curly hair tousled although he hasn’t slept, face shocked as if he didn’t expect you home — though he should have, it’s just that he didn’t check the time.

so much for jerking off. rather, so much for thinking about you.

“how’ve you been?” you tilt your head, curious at your suspiciously flushed boyfriend.

thank god that the vibrator that you got for changbin is silent, but why did it have to be so strong? changbin

“i just…worked out a bit,” he huffs, “uhh, did some cooling down exercises here.”

“didn’t you just come from the gym?”

“i did! and…i was bored, so i did jumping jacks…” changbin cuts you off a little too excitedly.

there’s a star in changbin’s eye when he winks at you as a distraction from the fact that the little toy is fucking him on the highest setting. he struggles not to whine, so he coughs a bit after shooting you a reassuring smile.

you’re not really buying it though, but nothing shows on your face. he mistakes it for the coast being clear. he kind of hopes you’d briefly get out of the room, though.

“oh well. i also have some unfinished work.” you sit down on the edge of the bed beside his legs, reaching for your laptop from your bag. “mind if i just finish this?”

he minds. a lot.

firstly, you look way too hot. you’re just in everyday semiformal, but that’s the exact type of clothing changbin imagined you in while he was abusing his cock earlier. secondly, you’re right there and way too close. it makes the butterflies pool in his stomach, but the butterflies fly in tornadoes until they burst into flames. he figures it’s from both from the close proximity and from the sickeningly unforgiving vibrator.

and thirdly, the said vibrator found its way through changbin’s sweet spot, giving him a full body shiver. you could feel him quivering through the comforters.

“is my binnie okay?”

“i’m f-fine. just tired.”

you silently question whether muscle spasms can cause vibrations as big as that. they could, but not like that. in fact, he shakes eerily similar to the time you tried that vibrator for the first time.

he was a screaming mess. his ass was moving on its own, in the air and quivering from the sensations inside him. he kept begging for you, unclear with what he desired specifically, but you knew that he just wanted you. all of you. he wanted more of what you were doing, whining your name with no aim of a demand, drooling onto the bedsheets while his fists grabbed helplessly onto the pillows as you put the vibrator into the highest setting for seconds on end, making him cum.

it’s too bad he can’t do any of that now.

so he stares. he stares at you and what you’re working on while awkwardly trying to shift positions on the bed. he tries helplessly to stop the vibrator from hitting the spot that gets him cumming the hardest, but it only goes further in. his walls clench and tighten around the toy while he watches your fingers. he catches your reflection in the laptop screen.

he’s so fucked, literally and figuratively.

you look back at your pitiful boyfriend.

the poor pillow between changbin’s thighs and the vibrator is suspiciously wrinkled, but you think nothing of it as your boyfriend shifts his position slightly again. you think he’s just acting naturally cute like this, thighs squeezed against the fabric while the curvature of his ass peeks from behind his hips.

it looks delicious. so plump that not even the facade of his body can cover it. it looks especially full, and you know this even if you’re unaware that it’s literally filled.

you can’t help the urge, and so you slap changbin’s ass.

what a fucking mistake.

the boy’s eyes widen as he successfully bites back a supposedly loud whine. that’s what he thinks, as a little whimper betrays his lips in the process.

but you try to think nothing of it, smirking at him instead.

“so cute,” you coo.

if only he could run to the bathroom without cumming in his shorts. everything affects him to such a high degree that he’s red, warm to the touch, and sweating buckets. he merely digs his head into his pillow and clenches his ass instinctively, hopelessly looped back into the never-ending cycle of suffering that he got himself into.

then you get up from your spot. you slam the laptop down and stretch, putting the device lazily on the bedside table without a second thought. you toss your accessories off and simply stretch your back until it hits the bed, lying down beside changbin.

shit, shit, shit.

“i had a long day,” you start. “can we cuddle?”

“ah, uhm, sure, b-but i’m…a little sweaty and sore, yeah.” changbin fails to keep his cool.

“but we always hug even if you’re sweaty and sore.” you pout and squeeze his bicep. “we even fuck like that.”

god, if you don’t stop talking to him like this.

changbin lets out a small whine, attempting to hide his face in the pillow again. that’s when your suspicion ticks. you could feel a strong vibration against the bed and you’re not sure if it’s your boyfriend or your overheating laptop by the bedside table.

“are you sick?”

“no…”

“then what’s up?”

he looks away and that’s when you notice how watery his eyes are. his face is fully flushed, his ears are red. sweat gets his bangs sticking to his forehead. he looks like he’s quite literally heated up.

and he is. the vibrations of the machine inside his ass heats him up, which doesn’t help his already warming walls. his plush ass keeps it in and the more he involuntarily clenches, the more that he feels it whirring and hitting his insides. it almost hurts but it’s so good, and you’ve been at this for so long but he can’t blame you.

he wants to just admit it.

“are you hiding something?”

but he can’t.

“n-no…”

“binnie, you’re stuttering. you don’t look okay. is anything bothering you?”

he could cry. from the pain, from the pleasure, from the fact that you care so much about him that his heart swells as much as his sweet spot is swelling at this point. he can’t help this insane amount of love but fuck, if he could just turn it off.

but a part of him doesn’t want to.

and when you find out, you don’t either.

you yank your pillow out of changbin’s thighs and the vibrator slips out from the force.

you’ve been thinking about it since earlier: your pillow was sitting between his legs for seemingly no reason. though, you know him better than he does, and you know that’s a sign that he’s horny. he always masturbates with your pillow between his legs. you could only guess why, but your intuition serves you right as changbin stares in horror at the vibrator whirring outside of him.

for some reason, the emptiness of his ass hurts, but your reassuring smile cuts through it as he stares at your face.

“if you wanted me to help, you should’ve asked, binnie.”

#sub!skz #skz smut #sub!changbin #changbin smut #dom!reader #💌 ipeginbox #<3 a lovely anon #💬 z is writimg

[lisired]

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yani, 22, she/they

⤷ 18+ blog primarily for long nct fics. masterlist below. no requests.

⤷ revehae is my side blog where i write evil little stories that normal people will find off-putting.

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[caramelcleopatraa]

TALK IT OUT

word count: 1100~

x: Presented to you by: The Bank: A short piece of fiction starring Roman & Aaliyah (got this done in a couple of hours, so excuse the errors you see. thinking of doing a part two for this one. feel free to comment... i'm a whore for comments)

content: Roman Reigns x Aahliyah, suggestive themes (ofc)

She was in no mood to argue. Today has already been a long day, but things never go as planned. Her quick paces were not enough to escape him chasing after her, but their bedroom door would. She slammed the bedroom door just for him to bust through seconds later, and the infuriating bickering started once again.

“What is your problem Aahliyah?”

“I just told you what my problem is.” She quickly disappeared into their shared bathroom with her silk robe in hand. “I'm tired of arguing with you, I'm tired, Roman.” Roman lets out a weighted sigh and wipes his hand over his face. “So that's it? You wanna leave this conversation unfinished?” She reached to turn the cold silver knob to her desired temperature. She finally turned to face him for the first time in minutes. “I'm gonna need you to get out.” Roman walks closer to her, towering over her 5’7 frame. “Nah, that’s not gonna work for me. You gon’ calm the hell down and we gon’ talk this shit out,” he huffs, standing tall in front of her, staring into her brown eyes.

“Since you wanna talk shit out, go talk it out with her.” She didn’t know that the conversation would drag out this long, especially over some random girl. Sabrina Smith. She's been throwing herself at Roman for as long as they’ve been in a relationship. It never bothered her before, but she started to get bolder with her attempts. Scandalously flirting with him right in front of her, wearing more revealing clothing, referring to Roman as her future husband. It screamed fan behavior, but as much as that woman irked her nerves, her problem isn't with her this time. Everytime she approaches him, he minds his business, but doesn’t bother telling her off or telling her to simply get lost. He sits there and ignores her, letting her make a fool of herself, but somehow never tells her to back up. That was her problem.

“You act like I'm entertaining the damn woman.” She faced the wide mirror that reflected anger radiating from both of their bodies. The shower had already been running for a minute, so she started to speedily undress to run away from the escalating discussion. “You might as well be. You don't tell her to stop or back up, anything! You just let her do whatever.”

“Because I dont give a fuck about her, Liyah.” He leans on the cream marble counter and crosses his muscular arms over his chest. “Yeah, whatever. I’m done.” She hears Roman scoff, but she doesn't pay much attention to it. He knew that when she said she’s done, she’s done. Aahliyah doesn't like to prolong arguments, and with this argument that they were having, She could already tell that they were on opposite sides of the spectrum. She stepped into the steaming shower in an attempt to calm herself down from the rush of emotions, when Aahliyah felt a rush of cold air hit her side. The glass door quickly shuts and a pair of hands snake around her waist. “You should know better than to run away from me,” Roman whispers in her ear. ‘Well there goes my plan for relaxation for the rest of the night.’ She knew how Roman was when they had arguments. He never liked leaving her angry or unhappy, he preferred to talk it out, no matter how long it took. “Are you at least going to let me shower?” He grins at her and replies, “Of course, but you’re still gonna tell me what the hell is going o-”

“Do you like her or something?” She turns to face him in the spacious shower. He was already focused on her before she turned around. His hair was pulled back into his standard man-bun, and of course, stark naked, with occasional water droplets decorating his broad frame. Confusion was written all over his face when that question escaped her mouth. “Why the hell would I like her? I come home to you every night, don't I?” She interlocked her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. Directing her eyes to look anywhere but him. “I know that, it’s just that… if you don't tell her to stop when she openly flirts with you, it makes me think that you like her giving you attention. That's all.”

His right hand lowers her interlocked fingers and replaces them with his hand, lifting her head to get a clear look at her. “Why didn't you tell me at first?” She bit her lip in deep thought, reflecting on her attitude and approach at the start of the argument. “I don't know, I just thought you knew that already.” His thumb rubs side to side against her soft caramel skin, logging and observing each reaction she made. “Well i didn't think of it like that, thank you for telling me.” He closed the space between them by feathering small kisses on her cheek. In no time, his lips collided with hers, letting his right hand disconnect from her chin and drag down her curves. It was second nature for him to fill his hands with her beautiful assets, and she never complained. Their lips clashed in passionate kisses, feeling each other’s bodies and letting themselves get lost in the moment. She pulled away from their heated makeout session, chest heaving, clinging onto her lover. “This doesn't mean I'm not mad at you still.” He worked down her jaw to her neck, still planting kisses on her skin. “How can I make it up to you, mama?” She gasps at the sudden pinch to her neck, followed by a cycle of kissing and sucking, which already fogged her mind better than the steam could fog the huge glass doors. “By getting out and letting me shower in peace,” She joked, gently massaging both his shoulders. “Hah, hell no. I got a better idea” He pulls away from the crook of her neck and pulls her arms around his neck tightly. He chuckles at her surprised yelp when she is hoisted into the air, quickly locking her legs around his waist. Her sumptuous thighs were overflowing in his hands, and the position that she was in, made her forget why she was even mad in the first place.

“Let me show you that you’re the only one I'm entertaining, baby.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

Welcome to your new addiction

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #carmenreigns #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x you #roman x aahliyah [oc] #[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]

[tangylemonade]

Worth It

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Wonwoo Drabble

Smut

No idea how many words. I didn’t even proofread this. I’m trying to slowly get back into writing with a few drabbles but idk. I wrote this after the Wonwoo live where he talked about breaking his glasses. My dirty mind wrote this right away but I only just got around to posting it.

Wonwoo’s hands frantically squeezed every curve of your body.

His lips were hot against skin.

Frantically he wanted all of you.

Your shirt lifted above your head allowed the cold air to perk your nipples while his gentle fingers left buzzing along your bare skin.

Careful not to break another pair of glasses today, you took a moment to gently take off Wonwoo glasses and place them on the vanity behind you.

The vanity was scattered with the makeup you were supposed to be putting on him for his live schedule later but the idea of ravishing each other behind a hopefully locked door was more tempting.

You missed each other too much to wait.

Wonwoo pulled your legs around his waist lifting you against his body. You felt his arousal pressing deliciously into your heat.

Moaning into the kiss was all you could do as your mind spun frantically in anticipation.

The warmth of your supple bare skin against him was al consuming for Wonwoo. Without a thought he placed you on the vanity nocking a few of the things to the ground and crushing a few others.

His strong hand on the small of our back kept you pressed into him as he slid up your skirt before unbuttoning his pants.

“Won..”

His name rested unfinished on your lips as he pushed into you. You threw your head back, forgetting yourself in the pleasure.

“Shhhh…” he said, reminding you that you two weren’t the only people in this building. Normally Wonwoo would love to hear you screaming for him but for the sake of the quicky, silence was unfortunately required.

“Fuuuck…” you moaned through gritted teeth as his rhythmic strokes already had you seeing stars.

Your slick cunt was tight around his throbbing cock, both of you only just realizing how long it’d been.

He said his own selection of curses into your neck as he peppered your skin with hot kisses.

“Mhhh…Wonwoo…” was all you could say as pleasure ripped through your body leaving you thoughtless and out of breath. Wonwoo followed soon after with a grunt before resting his tired head on your shoulder.

After catching your breath and reorganizing your clothes on your body you begin to clean the mess Wonwoo had tossed to the floor.

“Oh this palette is totaled.” You said with a laugh.

“Thankfully I think that’s all that’s bro-“ you gasped, cutting your sentence off as you kneeled down to pick up Wonwoo’s glasses. Well, one of the pieces of his glasses. The other piece had somehow slid to the other side of the room.

You held out both pieces to him with apologetic eyes.

He threw his head back in gorgeous laughter.

“So fucking worth it.” He said taking the two pieces from you and examining them.

“Got any tape?”

CURIOUS ABOUT MORE OF MY WORK?

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#🍋’s thoughts #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo drabble #seventeen drabbles #by drabbles #inspired by recent events 😂 #🍋’s recommendations #🍋’s creations

[hwajin]

#! — 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 | hh

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: fem!reader x hyunjin

wc: 1.1k

warnings/ contents: established relationship, unprotexted sex, coming inside, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, very very soft tho enjoyy <3

req!

"No wait... let's try it- without it today."

Your voice had been desperate, whining almost as Hyunjin had pried above you, ready to glove over the condom he had ripped open impatiently prior. Sweat lacing your bodies, dripping to create a pool of mutual wetness on sheets beneath you. Eyes glowing light in the dark of the room, stars on nightly sky, and breath left your mouths in huffs of apprehension. You laid with your hair a mess on Hyunjin's pillow, supporting your head, his scent all around lulling you into depths nothing but alluring. His touch on your skin an addicting one, his kiss on your flesh as passionate as ever — you'd swear your life to had died the moment his lips had clashed yours, had come back when they'd travelled down a path from your shoulder to your navel.

And then he had bent his body over your own and towards the nightstand beside his bed, clattered with pencils and unfinished sketches of your body, and had opened the top drawer to fish for a remaining condom — and your thoughts had short circuited. You wanted to feel him closer, in absence of layers separating your bodies. With no need of protection if passion utterly great coursed your very veins, if adoration and love was the sole thing you felt — you needed to feel him nearer, and you weren’t shy to let him know of it.

Hyunjin’s eyes doubled in size, halting in his movements when you had uttered the words. Blinking at you for seconds in disbelief before cheeks painted pink and eyes became hurried, mouth opening like fish in wish to say something. Only after cocking his head and huffing out in amusement he seemed to be ready, though.

“What if you—… you’ll get pregnant baby.”

Hyunjin’s voice quiet, scared and shy almost, though within it laid anticipation. Excitement, maybe, something deeper, possibly — his pupils blown out like you’ve never seen before, body nearly trembling above your own. Breath scattered momentarily and lips quivering — his whole screamed lust if anything, need and desperation. It got to you in an instant, infected your own being and your body heated up, felt like fire burning beneath your skin. Fire ignited by him, ignited by his fervour.

“I don’t care if I do, just need to feel you.”

Words hushed, spat out in manners quick because you were growing impatient. Your hands explored the expanse of Hyunjin’s body, hot fingertips against hotter skin, playing with the dips and highs of tummy and thighs. His flesh growing bumps with every touch of you, his eyes searching for a sign of nervousness, of discomfort in your face — he couldn’t find one. His excitement mimicking your own, your longing for nearer contact, for your bodies to feel as flush as ever mirroring his. Your touch electrifying his every muscle, his every nerve, occasional squeezing of his arms or shoulders daring to take his very last breath.

He lined up with your slit, shaking hands against your core and you felt his bare tip brush against your wetness — a sensation by it’s own, and you anticipated what was to come. You felt his precum against your cunt, felt his preparing sliding, his every curve when he entered you in nature more intense — your head threw back against his pillows, your back arching to have him deeper. A feeling you wished to bask in for as long as humanly possible, discarding any other need if this was the exchange.

Hyunjin’s state not better than yours, the man panting and hips stuttering against your body, your warmth engulfing him intoxicatingly, your voice in whines and sighs pure music to his ear. His hands found their place on your body at all times, travelling around or fixating on your hips, to stabilize himself or to keep you down, he wasn’t too sure. And he couldn’t take off his eyes; not from you nor from the point where your bodies collided, where they merged into a body of one, eyes fixed on your cores or your distorted face in sheer painful desperation. Your own eyes were closed, struggling to keep them open though if you did, Hyunjin was the only sight before you — his scrunched nose and agape mouth collecting sweat, his dyed hair falling in locks and messes framing his face. His eyes travelling up and down to meet yours or to watch his ever moving hips meet yours in a dance addicting. Occasionally his head lowered in exhaustion, and he never missed the opportunity to leave wet kisses on the expanse of your neck, or to whisper affirmations of love against the lobe of your ear — antics that only drove you closer to where you needed the two of you to be, closer to a state of mere insanity.

Stuttering hips and increasing volume of skin against skin and pathetic voices indicated said state was in arms reach, ready to grab and bask in for the rest of the night. Your nails dug into the skin of Hyunjin’s shoulders, leaving traces of crescent moons on the pale canvas. Locking eyes and whining out in unison, and Hyunjin managed to pant a question.

“You sure? I’m gonna cum baby, tell me you’re sure.”

Heart melting at his care, stomach throbbing at the building tension and the raspiness of his voice, the depth and emotion it carried. His gaze fixating yours and holding until a word of confirmation left your lips, your eyes rolling back in purified ecstasy, your body trembling against his. Your walls fluttered against him and Hyunjin’s head hung low, big palm finding your lower tummy before he reached his own orgasm, broken voice and shut eyes, groping hands and wanting gaze revealing that he’s been dreaming of this moment for a long time. That he’d been waiting for you to make a first move because he wouldn’t dare have the confidence to utter such wishes, that the satisfaction of being good for you got his heart pump more blood, that the feeling of his relief within you, the way it oozed out against the sides of your cunt was everything he’d ever wanted — that the very thought of said relief would turn your belly round got Hyunjin lightheaded. You would tease him later on, when he had long pulled out to watch the white pool at your slit, when he had cleaned you up and laid beside for you to rest atop his chest — you would tease him knowing well of the look in his eyes, of the hidden wish for this one time to be enough, for his seed to put down roots. And maybe it was your unsaid wish, too.

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @etheralsung @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts @bokjaz @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus

#hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut

[doubleddenden]

The topic of Palworld is pretty charged, but often times I see people be shamed for liking it because the CEO tweeted stuff about NFTs and the company using AI art in a separate game. Acting as if that's the most damning thing ever for a gaming company in an industry filled with similar people.

Make no mistake, I dislike both AI art and nfts, but do you realize how many gaming companies have involvement with that?

To begin with, Pokémon used AI art in a promotional piece for Pokémon Go in September, and nobody gave a shit because uwu Pikachu. The Pokémon Company also put a job listing some months back seeking an expert in NFTs. That's not quite damning evidence, but if I were a betting man, no "NFT expert" will willingly say "yeah nfts suck are bad for the environment, man, I'll take my paycheck and fuck off now." There's also a strong argument to be made that Pokémon has stolen ideas from fakemon artists (Finizen and Palafin, Scovillain, Dipplin, etc) and other franchises (kaiju movies, Dragon Quest, Megaman, final fantasy, western cartoons and food mascots, etc), a dubious legal statement that claims they own all fan art from the remixes and fakemon made on youtube to the pikachu your kid drew at breakfast; they have yet to apologize for the state of Scarlet and Violet while charging full price to millions of paying customers for a clearly unfinished and barely functioning game (which i did enjoy, but you can't tell me it was finished baking when it struggles not to shit itself just to run), and a bunch of other things people shit on Palworld for, but A. It's Pokémon so people don't care and think it's fine, and B. That's not the point of this post.

You know who else does NFTs and AI art? (Yes I heard Muscle Man from Regular Show in my head just now, too, moving along)

Square Enix sold several of their IPs for NFTs and claims to have used AI art "a minimum amount" in Foam Stars, yet I see nobody yelling for boycotts of Final Fantasy 14, 16, Kingdom Hearts, Dragon Quest, Life is Strange, etc etc etc.

Sony has invested in both, they want to implement AI into gaming, and has a patent for nfts to be used in games and consoles, yet there's no movement to throw out your playstations.

Bandai Namco- you know, that company with a hand in pretty much most anime games on the market and popular games such as the Dark Souls games? They have a game called RYU that's essentially a virtual pet game that uses the blockchain, and its AI driven, among other projects. Yet there's no outcry to stop playing the many, MANY games they brand with. This also includes quite a few Nintendo games (btw they just partnered together to form a special studio quite recently) like Smash Wii U/3ds and New Pokémon Snap. Nobody gives a shit though.

Android, Microsoft, Google, Apple- I don't even need to explain those, they have whole teams dedicated to both. Even popular VPN companies accept crypto.

I'm just saying an awful lot of you guys that scream and shit bloody murder about Palworld's company being involved with that shit are either the biggest "It's okay when my favs do it" type of hypocrites, or you're sorely ignorant to just how evil and greedy most corporations are. You'll be hard pressed to find a game company with popular AND fun games that DOESN'T have some interest in either, let alone movie and show studios. That's the awful reality we live in.

You have 2 options

1. You basically stop doing anything involving most modern tech, including throwing out your pc and smart phone. You could probably live a comfortable life with tech circa 2010, but you have to be aware that any thing you buy may go towards a cause you don't like.

2. You accept that people can enjoy a product while not necessarily agreeing with the CEO of said product. Most CEOs tend to be jackasses anyway, that's kind of the shared trait they all have. You can also discourage companies from using them while understanding it is everywhere.

Palworld at the end of the day is just a toy, that's it. From the looks of it, it's not even actually hurting anyone, and it seems like the company at least treats their employees pretty decently- at least according to a few things I've seen here and there that seems rather progressive for a Japanese studio (with room for doubt obviously, it's a company after all and as we've established, they're all evil). At the least its not like when people supported Hogwarts Legacy and directly put money into JKR's wallet so she can openly hurt more Trans women. In fact, the only people seemingly hurt in all of this Palworld drama are obsessed Pokémon stans that can't accept a parody, or the Pokémon Company themselves, who rightly deserve some punching up tbh.

You can just say you dislike the game, that's fine, I totally get that. Even though I personally think The Pokémon Company deserves a few nut shots after the way they've treated fans these last few years with the state of their games (and you know, stealing ideas from fans without credit), I can see why someone would be turned away from a parody that's literally meant to be Pokémon with guns. I can totally understand all of that, personally I'd prefer if the game was MORE like Pokémon with turn based combat.

But if you're going to defend Pokémon because you think its perfectly innocent because of Wooloo or something like that, just be sure you're aware you're defending the World's Richest Franchise and their own attempts at AI and NFTs while calling out an indie company (a real one thats learning as they go, not the fake "We're totally indie" franchise that hasn't been indie since gen 3) for having a ceo that also seems interested in the same stuff. And remember, you don't become number 1 without hurting people somehow (we could dig up receipts about certain partners Pokémon has teamed up with, such as Tencent with Unite, but I'd rather not right now.)

Just saying. I don't think you're an irredeemable person for still liking Pikachu, cuz I do too believe it or not. I've been a life long fan and still have fun with the games despite the clear scummy business practices towards their paying customers. Just maybe extend that courtesy to the millions of players just trying to have fun in this awful, putrid, shithole planet that just keeps getting worse and worse with each passing day.

Plus... you know, think about it. Do you think Pokémon would ever get around to making a gunless Palworld? Probably not. Do you think Palworld would exist if The Pokémon Company and Nintendo were the slightest bit chill about Pokémon fan projects like SEGA is with Sonic? Also probably not. From what I've read, the devs just wanted to make a fun game that happens to mostly be ARK with Pokémon adjacent monsters. That's not really a bad thing, all things considered, and it seems like the worst they've done is reference official Pokémon when making their own models.

Palworld being successful is actually beneficial to Pokémon fans, as well. It'll never really truly compete, but it has outsold Legends Arceus in terms of units sold (not as much financially because Palworld was only $30 plus a sale recently, but still impressive), and it is enough that Game Freak is aware of its existence. Let Palworld light a fire under their ass, and maybe GF will actually finish their next game before releasing it for full price (and no, we're not bringing up the tired imaginary ball and chain game devs, game freak owns 1/3rd lf the franchise and can easily take methods to get more dev time, they just haven't because money). Just saying, at least the Paldevs were honest enough to sell it in early access for half the price.

#palworld

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part three

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: just angst

author's note: so sorry for the short hiatus for this chapter, i've legit been decaying for days with strep throat and all i've been able to do is sleep. anyways, now that i'm back here is a new chapter! enjoy! or maybe scream idk

The evening breeze carried the scent of saltwater as Rafe led you onto the deserted golf course, the fading light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. You couldn't help but smile as you walked hand in hand with him, the anticipation of what he had planned filling you with excitement.

As you rounded a bend in the path, you gasped in surprise at the sight before you. Spread out on a patch of soft grass was a blanket adorned with flickering candles and an array of delicious treats. Rafe had truly outdone himself, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for the effort he had put into planning this romantic evening.

"Rafe, this is incredible," you exclaimed, turning to him with a wide smile.

He grinned back at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "I wanted tonight to be special," he said softly, squeezing your hand affectionately.

Together, you settled onto the blanket, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As the stars began to appear in the night sky, you found yourself lost in the magic of the moment, grateful for the chance to share this intimate experience with Rafe.

As you shared stories and laughter, the bond between you grew stronger with each passing moment. And as the night wore on, you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope blossoming within you, a belief that perhaps this was just the beginning of something beautiful between you and Rafe.

Rafe carefully unpacked the tote of food and drinks he had brought, revealing an assortment of delectable treats. From artisan cheeses to freshly baked bread, everything looked absolutely mouthwatering. But it was the sight of the sangria he had prepared that made your eyes light up with delight.

With a charming grin, Rafe poured out glasses of the ruby-red concoction, the sweet aroma of fruit and wine filling the air. He handed you a glass, his gaze lingering on your face as he waited for your reaction. And when he saw the sheer joy in your eyes, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

"Sangria?" he asked with a playful wink, knowing full well that it was your favorite.

You nodded eagerly, taking a sip of the refreshing drink and savoring the burst of flavors on your tongue. It was absolutely delicious, and you couldn't help but marvel at Rafe's thoughtfulness in preparing something so perfect for the occasion.

"This is amazing," you exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across your face.

He grinned back at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Anything for you," he replied, his voice soft and sincere. And as you clinked your glasses together in a silent toast, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was the start of something truly special between you and Rafe.

As you sat on your knees in your light pink sundress, the soft fabric billowing around you in the gentle ocean breeze, Rafe couldn't help but admire the sight before him. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the landscape, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and you seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty that took his breath away.

Your tanned skin glistened in the golden light, and the strands of your hair danced around your face as if they were trying to mimic the waves crashing against the shore. There was something utterly captivating about the way you looked in that moment, something so pure and serene that it left Rafe completely spellbound.

He watched you in silence, his heart swelling with affection as he took in every detail of your appearance. From the way the sunlight illuminated your features to the way your eyes sparkled with joy, you were nothing short of mesmerizing.

As you turned to look at him with a smile, Rafe felt a surge of warmth spread through him. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the company of the person he cared for most in the world, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the simple moments like this, when everything seemed to fall into place and the world felt like a perfect, harmonious place to be.

As Rafe's gaze lingered on you, basking in the beauty of the moment, he felt an overwhelming surge of emotion welling up inside him. Unable to contain his feelings any longer, he blurted out the words that had been weighing on his heart for so long.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity and conviction.

You turned to look at him, your eyes widening in surprise at his unexpected confession. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you shook your head, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Come on, Rafe," you teased gently, a hint of disbelief in your voice. "You're just saying that because of the wine and the romantic setting."

But Rafe shook his head, his expression serious as he reached out to take your hand in his. "No, I mean it," he insisted, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Y/N."

As you searched his eyes for any hint of doubt or hesitation, all you found was unwavering sincerity and a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. And in that moment, you knew without a doubt that his words were true.

With a soft smile, you reached out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently against his stubbled jawline. "I love you too, Rafe," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves. "More than anything in this world."

And as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, you knew that this moment, this feeling of pure, unadulterated love, was something you would cherish forever.

As Rafe stood on the familiar golf course, memories of that magical evening with you flooded his mind. The scent of freshly cut grass and the sound of the ocean in the distance brought back vivid images of the picnic you two shared under the starlit sky.

But now, the atmosphere was different. Instead of a romantic rendezvous, Rafe found himself surrounded by his friends, engaged in a casual game of golf. Topper, Kelce, and a few others were there, their laughter and banter filling the air as they took turns teeing off.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Rafe couldn't shake the sense of longing that gnawed at his heart. He missed you more than he cared to admit, and being in this familiar setting only served as a painful reminder of the love he had lost.

As he lined up his shot, Rafe couldn't help but steal a glance at the spot where you two had shared that intimate moment. The memories were still fresh in his mind, each detail etched into his memory like a scene from a movie.

But as much as he longed to go back to that night, to relive the magic of being with you, he knew that it was nothing more than a distant memory now. And as he swung his club and watched the ball soar through the air, he tried to push aside the ache in his heart and focus on the game at hand.

As Topper and Kelce bantered with their friends, their playful banter managed to snap Rafe out of his trance. He forced a smile and joined in the conversation, trying to push aside the melancholy that weighed heavily on his heart.

"Come on, Rafe, you're up next!" Topper called out, nudging Rafe with his elbow as he handed him a golf club.

Rafe nodded, taking the club and stepping up to the tee. He focused on the task at hand, trying to block out the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. With a deep breath, he swung the club, sending the ball flying down the fairway.

His friends cheered and clapped him on the back, their enthusiasm infectious as they moved on to the next hole. And as Rafe fell into step with them, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness that lingered within him.

As they made their way through the golf course, Topper couldn't resist teasing Rafe about his apparent hangover from the party the night before.

"Hey, Rafe, feeling a little rough today?" Topper quipped, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Rafe chuckled weakly, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the pounding headache. "You have no idea, man. That party got out of hand."

Topper raised an eyebrow, shooting Rafe a knowing look. "Oh, I heard. Especially about that girl you were flirting with. Sofia might not be too happy about that."

Rafe's expression faltered, a pang of guilt washing over him at the mention of Sofia. Despite his attempts to brush it off, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Rafe rolled his eyes and let out a dry chuckle, a hint of irritation still evident in his tone. "Yeah, sure," he said dismissively, as if brushing off the topic. "No one's gonna tell her anyway."

Topper laughed, slapping Rafe on the back playfully. "Ah, living dangerously, I see. Just be careful, man. You know how Sofia can be."

Rafe nodded, his expression serious for a moment before he forced a smile. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Top."

As they continued their game, Rafe couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of his mind. Thoughts of Sofia and the potential consequences of his actions weighed heavily on him, clouding his enjoyment of the day. While he contemplated the potential fallout if Sofia were to discover his indiscretions, his thoughts inevitably turned to you. You had always been a steady presence in his life, someone he could rely on and confide in without fear of judgment. The mere idea of betraying your trust filled him with a sense of dread and remorse that he couldn't shake.

Despite the challenges they were facing in their relationship, Rafe knew deep down that he would never have acted in such a reckless manner if it were you in Sofia's place. Your unwavering support and understanding had always been a source of strength for him, grounding him in moments of uncertainty.

As Rafe delved deeper into his thoughts about you, he couldn't shake the bitter taste of betrayal that lingered in the recesses of his mind. The memory of your departure weighed heavily on his heart, stirring up feelings of resentment and anger that he had buried deep within himself.

Despite the love and affection he had once felt for you, Rafe couldn't help but question the very notion of love itself. If someone as important to him as you could leave without a second thought, what did that say about the validity of love? Was it merely an illusion, a temporary mirage that disappeared when faced with the harsh realities of life?

The more he dwelled on these questions, the more Rafe felt himself retreating into a shell of cynicism and doubt. He had believed in the power of love, in the idea that it could conquer all obstacles and withstand the test of time. But now, faced with the painful reality of your absence, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been fooling himself all along.

In that moment of introspection, Rafe felt a profound sense of loneliness wash over him, a feeling of emptiness that threatened to consume him whole. If love was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, then what hope did he have of ever finding happiness again?

But even amidst the darkness of his doubts, a small glimmer of hope flickered within Rafe's heart. Despite the pain of your departure and the uncertainty surrounding the nature of love, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still beauty to be found in the world. Perhaps love wasn't as simple or straightforward as he had once believed, but that didn't mean it was any less real.

Rafe's friend threw his arm around Rafe's shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he teased, "Rafe, my man! You were on fire at that party last night! Sofia's a lucky girl to have someone like you."

Rafe managed a weak smile, but his friend's words only added to the weight of guilt that was already burdening him. He took another gulp of his beer, trying to push aside his inner turmoil.

"Yeah, well, you know how it goes," Rafe replied with a forced chuckle. "Just trying to have a good time."

His friend laughed, nudging him playfully. "Exactly! And hey, what Sofia doesn't know won't hurt her, right? Live a little, man!"

Rafe's smile wavered, a pang of guilt stabbing at his conscience. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Topper, overhearing the conversation, interjected with his usual boisterous tone, "Ah, come on, guys! You know Rafe's just a free spirit. Sofia's gotta learn to loosen up a bit, right, Rafe?"

Rafe shifted uncomfortably under Topper's gaze, feeling the weight of his friend's words bearing down on him. He forced a smile, though it felt strained.

"Sure, Top," Rafe replied, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

Rafe's other friend, catching wind of the conversation, chimed in with a smirk, "Yeah, Rafe, maybe these girls don't deserve to be treated so well after what you've been through. They should count themselves lucky!"

Rafe furrowed his brows, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

His friend shrugged casually. "Oh, come on, Rafe. You know what I mean," he replied, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "After what Y/N did to you, maybe it's time you stopped worrying so much about making things right."

Rafe's body tensed at the mention of you, his mind flooded with memories and emotions he had been trying so hard to suppress. He felt as if a weight had been placed upon his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Let's not go there," Rafe said tersely, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

Another friend, trying to diffuse the tension with a teasing tone, chimed in, "Hey, ease up, guys! Who knows, Y/N's probably Maybank's bitch now!"

Rafe's jaw clenched at the mention of JJ's name, a surge of frustration coursing through him. He fought to keep his emotions in check, but the mention of you with someone else stung more than he cared to admit.

Rafe's jaw clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white as anger surged through him like a raging storm. His friend's disrespectful comment about you cut through him like a knife, igniting a firestorm of fury within him. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension as he struggled to contain his rising rage.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes flashing with intensity.

His friends exchanged uneasy glances, taken aback by the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor. They had expected him to brush off the comment like he usually did, not realizing the depth of his feelings for you and the protective instinct that now surged within him.

"Come on, Rafe, we were just joking," one of them said nervously, attempting to defuse the situation.

But Rafe wasn't having it. The insult hurled at you had crossed a line, and he refused to let it slide. With a steely glare, he turned to his friend, his voice icy with contempt.

"That's not funny," he said, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. "You don't talk about her like that."

Topper's smirk widened, and he tilted his head, his tone mocking. "Come on, Rafe, let's be real here," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "We all know you're still head over heels for Y/N. Sofia's just your backup plan, right?"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts as Topper's words hit him like a sucker punch. His friend's casual dismissal of Sofia and insinuation about his feelings for you sent a surge of frustration coursing through him.

"That's enough, Topper," Rafe snapped, his voice tinged with barely contained fury. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Topper's smirk only widened, clearly enjoying getting under Rafe's skin. "Come on, Rafe, we're just messing around," he said, his tone taunting. "But we all know the truth, don't we?"

Rafe's temper flared, his patience wearing thin. He took a step forward, his gaze locked with Topper's, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he repeated, his words dripping with disdain.

His friends exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they had pushed Rafe too far. The air crackled with tension as Rafe stood his ground, his resolve unyielding. He refused to let anyone belittle his feelings or disrespect you in such a callous manner.

Topper's scoff echoed through the tense atmosphere, his amused smirk never faltering as he stared back at Rafe defiantly. "Oh, please," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We all know you wouldn't have pulled that shit with Sofia if it was Y/N. That says enough, doesn't it?"

Rafe's jaw clenched tighter, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. He felt as if Topper's words were a direct attack on his character, a challenge to his integrity and the values he held dear. The weight of his friend's accusation hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the mistakes he had made and the consequences he now faced.

For a moment, Rafe was at a loss for words, his mind racing as he struggled to process Topper's harsh judgment. But then, a steely resolve washed over him, fueling his determination to prove his friend wrong.

With a deep breath, Rafe squared his shoulders, his gaze unwavering as he met Topper's challenging stare. "You don't know anything," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "And if you can't see that, then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Turning on his heel, Rafe walked away, leaving Topper's words hanging in the air like a bitter aftertaste. He knew he had to confront his mistakes and make things right with Sofia, but he refused to let anyone question his character or the depth of his feelings for you. As he disappeared into the distance, Rafe vowed to prove them all wrong, to show them that he was capable of redemption and deserving of a second chance.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The mid-day sun beat down relentlessly as you and JJ geared up for your motorcycle ride through the vibrant streets of Barbados. Despite the scorching heat, the promise of adventure and the thrill of the open road filled you with excitement.

As you straddled the back of JJ's motorcycle, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. The rumble of the engine beneath you and the promise of freedom in the wind filled you with a sense of exhilaration that was hard to ignore.

But much to your dismay, JJ insisted that you wear a helmet before setting off, citing safety concerns. You protested, arguing that it ruined the aesthetic of the ride and that you would be fine without it, but JJ remained adamant.

"Sorry, babe, but safety first," JJ said with a lopsided grin as he handed you the helmet. "I can't have anything happening to you on my watch."

Reluctantly, you accepted the helmet, securing it in place with a sigh. As much as you hated to admit it, JJ had a point, and you knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

With one last glance at each other, JJ revved the engine, and you set off into the bustling streets of Barbados, the wind whipping through your hair and the sun kissing your skin as you embarked on your adventure together. Despite the annoyance of the helmet, you couldn't help but feel grateful to be by JJ's side, sharing in this exhilarating experience with the person you cared for most in the world.

As JJ expertly maneuvered the motorcycle around the curves of the road, you couldn't help but grip onto his shirt tightly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The wind whipped past you, tugging at your clothes and tousling your hair as you held onto him as if holding on for dear life.

JJ chuckled at your tight grip, his laughter mingling with the roar of the engine as he leaned into the next turn. "Easy there, Y/N," he called out over the noise, a playful grin on his face. "I promise I'm not gonna throw you off!"

Despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, you couldn't help but laugh along with him, the thrill of the ride infectious. With each twist and turn of the road, you felt a sense of exhilaration wash over you, grateful for the chance to experience this moment of freedom and adventure with JJ by your side. As you leaned into the curves together, the world around you blurred into a whirlwind of color and motion, the worries and cares of everyday life fading into the background.

As JJ unexpectedly popped a wheelie, you couldn't help but let out a squeal of surprise, your heart leaping into your throat as you braced yourself behind his back. "JJ!" you screamed, a mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through you.

But JJ only chuckled in response to your reaction, the sound mixing with the roar of the engine as he effortlessly balanced the motorcycle on one wheel. "Relax, Y/N!" he called out over the noise, his voice filled with amusement. "I've got this!"

Despite your initial panic, you couldn't help but laugh along with him, the rush of adrenaline leaving you feeling alive and exhilarated. With each passing moment, you felt a sense of trust and camaraderie growing between you, strengthened by the shared experience of this wild ride.

As JJ smoothly brought the motorcycle back down to the ground, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, your heart still racing with the thrill of the moment. Gripping onto him tightly, you leaned in close, a wide grin spreading across your face.

"You're insane, JJ," you said with a mixture of awe and affection, your voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine.

But JJ only flashed you a mischievous grin in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just keeping things interesting," he replied with a wink, before revving the engine and speeding off down the road, leaving behind nothing but the echo of laughter.

As JJ parked the motorcycle at the entrance of the secluded pier, he turned off the engine and carefully helped you hop off the bike. With a gentle touch, he removed the helmet from your head and placed it onto the back of his bike, ensuring it was secure before turning his attention back to you.

You stood beside him, taking in the breathtaking scenery around you with awe. The pier stretched out into the crystal-clear waters of the ocean, the gentle waves lapping against the wooden planks below. The air was filled with the salty tang of the sea and the soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze.

"This place is incredible," you murmured, your voice filled with wonder as you gazed out at the tranquil expanse of water before you.

JJ nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you take in the beauty of your surroundings. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots on the island," he said, his tone tinged with fondness.

As you and JJ walked together towards the edge of the pier, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore and seagulls chirping in the distance filled the air with a symphony of nature's melodies. The salty breeze ruffled your hair and carried with it the scent of the ocean, enveloping you in a sense of tranquility.

But while the beauty of the surroundings captivated your senses, JJ's gaze remained fixed on you. As you glanced over at him, you couldn't help but notice the intensity in his eyes, the way they seemed to drink in every detail of your face as if committing it to memory.

"Something on your mind?" you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

JJ's lips curved into a tender smile, his expression filled with a mixture of affection and admiration. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you," he replied, his voice warm with sincerity.

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you at the depth of emotion in his gaze. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the serenity of the ocean, you felt a deep connection with JJ that transcended words.

You found a secluded spot to sit at the end of the pier, the wooden planks creaking softly beneath you as you settled down, giving you a full view of the vast expanse of the ocean before you. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, creating a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

Turning to JJ with a smile on your face, happiness radiating from your expression, you couldn't help but express your love for this place. "JJ, I love it here," you said, your voice filled with genuine affection. "It's so peaceful, so serene. I could spend hours just sitting here, taking it all in."

JJ's gaze softened as he looked at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad you like it," he replied, his voice soft and sincere. "It's always been a special place for me, and sharing it with you makes it even more meaningful."

As the comfortable silence stretched between you and JJ, broken only by the soothing sounds of the ocean, JJ cleared his throat, a subtle gesture to break the quiet. You turned to look at him, noticing the slight furrow of your brows as you met his gaze.

"Can I ask you something?" With a softness in his eyes, JJ leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering as he asked if he could pose a question. Your curiosity piqued, you nodded gently, a sense of anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak.

"Of course, JJ," you replied, your voice gentle yet encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, JJ's expression softened even further, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. "Y/N," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've been meaning to ask you… How do you feel about us? About where we stand?"

His question hung in the air between you, the weight of it palpable as you processed his words. Your heart skipped a beat at the raw honesty in his question, and you found yourself gazing into his eyes, searching for the truth in his gaze.

As JJ's question hung in the air, your mind drifted back to that fateful night when you and JJ had hooked up after your fallout with Rafe. The memory used to make you wince with guilt, knowing the pain it had caused Rafe. But now, free from the burden of that guilt, you found yourself reflecting on the moment with a newfound clarity.

There had been something undeniably comforting about being with JJ that night, a sense of safety and ease that had washed over you in his presence. Despite the chaos and turmoil surrounding your emotions at the time, revealing that vulnerable side to him had felt surprisingly effortless.

In that moment of reflection, you realized that your feelings for JJ ran deeper than you had initially acknowledged. There was a connection between you that went beyond mere attraction, a bond forged in shared experiences and mutual understanding.

Turning to JJ, you met his gaze with unwavering honesty, your heart beating steadily in your chest as you prepared to lay bare your true feelings.

"JJ," you began, your voice soft but resolute, "of course there's always been something there between us."

You watched as understanding dawned in JJ's eyes, a flicker of emotion crossing his features as he listened intently to your words.

"But," you continued, a note of vulnerability creeping into your tone, "I think I was scared to embrace it before. Scared of what it might mean for our friendship, for everything we've built together."

As you spoke, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, the words tumbling forth with a sense of liberation. It was as if by acknowledging the truth of your feelings, you were finally setting yourself free from the constraints of doubt and uncertainty.

"But now," you added, your voice growing stronger with each word, "I realize that hiding from those feelings won't change them. And if there's a chance for us to explore what's between us, to see where it leads, I want to take it."

With your confession laid bare, you held your breath, waiting for JJ's response, hoping against hope that he felt the same way.

As JJ listened to your heartfelt confession, a wave of relief washed over him, lifting the weight of uncertainty from his shoulders. With a soft smile, he reached out, placing his hand gently on your thigh and rubbing it in a comforting gesture.

"Y/N," he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, "I've always loved you."

As JJ's words hung in the air, your breath hitched in your throat, a sudden surge of emotion welling up within you. Sure, you and JJ had always exchanged "I love yous" in the past, but the depth of sincerity in his confession caught you off guard.

Your eyes flickered back and forth between his, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you found was unwavering sincerity and affection. In that moment, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love that you shared, a love that had been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged and embraced.

But as you processed JJ's confession, you were suddenly brought back to a different moment in time, a memory that now felt like a distant echo of the present. It was the morning at Rafe's house in his kitchen, the sun filtering through the curtains as you stood together, sharing a quiet moment amidst the chaos of the world around you. In that moment, Rafe had looked at you with the same sincerity and love that JJ now displayed, his words a declaration of the depth of his feelings for you.

As JJ's hand rested gently on your thigh, a furrow creased your brow as you gazed at his touch, your mind swirling with a myriad of emotions. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, leaving you grappling with the implications of his words.

"JJ," you began, your voice soft but tinged with uncertainty, "what does this mean for us?"

Your heart raced as you awaited his response, hoping for clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions that swept through you. With every beat, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon you, a sense of urgency propelling you forward as you sought to understand the path that lay ahead for the two of you.

As you looked into JJ's eyes, searching for the answers you so desperately sought, you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to speak, to offer reassurance and guidance in the midst of the uncertainty that surrounded you.

As JJ took in a deep breath and laughed nervously, you sensed the tension in the air. Your heart fluttered with anticipation as you waited for his next words. His laughter broke the tension slightly, but the nervous energy still crackled between you.

Finally, he looked at you with a sheepish smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft and hesitant, "I… I was wondering if… well, if you'd want to be my girlfriend?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with the promise of possibility. You felt your heart swell with emotion, a rush of warmth flooding through you at the realization of what he was asking. Despite the nerves and uncertainty, there was an undeniable sense of rightness in his words, a feeling that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

A smile spread across your face as you reached out to take his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining with his as you gazed into his eyes with unwavering affection. "Yes, JJ," you replied, your voice filled with certainty and love, "I'd love to be your girlfriend."

JJ breathed out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he heard your response. "Yeah?" he repeated breathlessly, a hint of disbelief and elation in his voice.

Before he could fully process your answer, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. The warmth of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle lapping of the waves and the soft caress of the breeze, everything else faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms, sharing a moment of pure joy and connection.

JJ held you close, as though afraid that if he let go, you might slip through his fingers like grains of sand. In his embrace, you felt safe and cherished, the weight of his arms a comforting anchor in the sea of emotions swirling around you.

As you leaned into him, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, a reassuring reminder that you were here, together, in this moment. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, chasing away any lingering doubts or fears.

For JJ, holding you in his arms felt like a dream come true, a moment he had longed for but never dared to hope would actually happen. Yet here you were, wrapped up in each other's embrace, sharing a bond that felt stronger and more profound than anything he had ever experienced before.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Rafe sat in Barry's dimly lit trailer, the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air as he leaned over the small table, meticulously arranging lines of cocaine. His hands trembled slightly as he prepared another hit, the familiar sting of the drug offering a temporary escape from the chaos of his thoughts.

Barry watched him from across the table, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he took a drag from his cigarette. "What brings you in this time, Rafe?" he asked, his voice laced with an air of knowing. "I can tell something's eating at you."

Rafe's jaw clenched as he snorted another line, the rush of euphoria momentarily numbing the ache in his heart. He avoided Barry's gaze, his fingers tracing the edge of the table as he struggled to find the words to articulate the turmoil churning inside him.

Barry leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he prodded Rafe further. "It's about that girl, isn't it?" he said, his tone blunt and direct. "The one who got away."

Rafe's breath caught in his throat at the mention of you, his chest tightening with a pang of longing. He took another hit of cocaine, the bitterness of the powder a stark contrast to the bitterness in his heart.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "It's about her."

As the drugs coursed through his veins, Rafe found himself succumbing to the overwhelming weight of his emotions. In that moment, surrounded by the haze of addiction and regret, he couldn't help but wonder if he had lost you for good, if there was any chance of redemption left for him in the wake of his mistakes. But deep down, he knew that no amount of cocaine could ever fill the void left by your absence, or numb the ache of his shattered heart.

Barry sighed deeply, the weariness etched into the lines of his face as he took another long drag from his cigarette. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he pointed at Rafe with a sense of solemnity.

"You ain't been the same since she left," Barry stated matter-of-factly, his words cutting through the haze of Rafe's thoughts.

Rafe's gaze flickered up to meet Barry's, his eyes clouded with a mixture of pain and resignation. He knew Barry was right; ever since you had walked out of his life, leaving behind a trail of shattered dreams and broken promises, Rafe had been adrift in a sea of self-destruction.

"Yeah," Rafe murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I messed up, Barry. I messed up real bad."

Barry leaned back in his chair, his expression softening with a hint of sympathy as he regarded Rafe. Despite their differences, Barry had always been there for him, a constant presence in his life amidst the chaos and turmoil.

"You gotta let her go, Rafe," Barry said gently, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency. "You can't keep living in the past, chasing after something that's gone."

But Rafe shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he reached for another line of cocaine. "I can't, Barry," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "She's all I've ever wanted, all I've ever needed. Without her, I'm nothing."

Barry watched in silence as Rafe continued to spiral deeper into the abyss of his addiction, a sense of helplessness gnawing at his conscience. He knew that Rafe was on a dangerous path, one that could lead to destruction if he didn't find a way to pull himself back from the edge.

Barry sighed heavily, the weight of Rafe's words settling heavily on his shoulders as he shook his head in disbelief. "What about that girl, Sofia, you've got?" he asked, his tone tinged with a mix of concern and frustration.

Rafe's hands stilled momentarily as he glanced up at Barry, his eyes clouded with a hint of guilt. Sofia had been a constant presence in his life, a steady anchor amidst the storm of his emotions. And yet, despite her unwavering loyalty and love, Rafe couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, that he was simply going through the motions without truly being present.

"She deserves better than me," Rafe muttered, his voice tinged with self-loathing. "I can't give her what she needs, not when I'm still stuck in the past, chasing after something that's gone."

Barry regarded Rafe with a mixture of sympathy and frustration, knowing that he was treading on dangerous ground. Sofia deserved better than to be a mere placeholder in Rafe's life, a temporary fix for the void left by your absence.

"You gotta make a choice, Rafe," Barry said firmly, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with his troubled friend. "Either you let her go and figure out what you really want, or you commit to being the man she needs. But you can't keep stringing her along while you're stuck in limbo."

Rafe's jaw clenched as he absorbed Barry's words, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. He knew that Barry was right; he couldn't continue down this path of self-destruction, dragging Sofia along with him as he struggled to find his footing.

But as he stared into the abyss of his own uncertainty, Rafe couldn't help but wonder if he was capable of making the right choice, of breaking free from the chains that bound him and embracing a future filled with hope and possibility. Only time would tell if he had the strength to rise above his demons and forge a new path forward, one that led him towards redemption and true love.

Rafe slumped down on the couch, his hands resting heavily on his knees as he let out a heavy sigh. "I thought I loved Sofia," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "But everything keeps bringing me back to her."

Barry rolled his eyes in response, a hint of exasperation evident in his demeanor. He wasn't one for sentimental conversations or matters of the heart, but even he could see that Rafe was struggling with something deeper than he cared to admit.

"Look Country club," Barry said gruffly, his tone softened with a touch of sympathy. "I ain't good with all this lovey-dovey stuff, but I can see you're torn up about it."

Rafe nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor as he wrestled with his emotions. He had thought that Sofia was the one for him, the one who could help him move on from the pain of losing you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of you, the feelings that lingered in the depths of his heart.

Barry leaned back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke in his usual nonchalant manner. "Why don't you just let Sofia down gently?" he suggested, his tone casual despite the weight of his words. "Tell her you want to be friends and make up some excuse about having family stuff going on."

Rafe regarded Barry with a mix of surprise and relief, grateful for his friend's straightforward advice. It was the push he needed to finally confront the truth and take control of his own destiny.

"Yeah, you're right," Rafe said, a sense of determination coursing through him. "I'll talk to Sofia and be honest with her. It's the least I can do."

Barry nodded in approval, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good man," he replied, his tone gruff but genuine. "Just remember, Rafe, sometimes you gotta let go of the past to make room for the future."

With Barry's words echoing in his mind, Rafe felt a newfound sense of clarity and purpose. He knew that letting go of Sofia would be difficult, but it was the first step towards finding true happiness and peace within himself.

As he prepared to face the difficult conversation ahead, Rafe couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within him. Perhaps, with time, he would finally be able to let go of the pain of the past.

taglist: @rrosiitas, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87,

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#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x pogue!reader

[svnflower-writes]

i could never give you peace

description: James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

or

in which James comforts Regulus after a particularly bad fight with his parents.

relationship: bodyguard!james potter x regulus black

warnings: mentions of child abuse, secret/forbidden relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, james may be slightly out of character but idk maybe he's just sad 😭

requested: yes!! @allyeardepression requested this about 4 months ago and i am SO sorry for taking so long writer's block has been kicking my ass omg i started writing as soon as you requested it but it sat there unfinished for far too long. anyway i hope you like it!!!

note: uh ok hi. this is the first thing i've posted in MONTHS and i wrote most of it in class so it's not great but fuck it i had to post something. also... sorry. the first thing i write in five months and it's heartwrenching angst, which is very typical of me. also based off a taylor swift song which is also very typical of me

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54453148

marauders taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @lovefolder @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

James had to pretend that it didn’t affect him, seeing Orion and Walburga treat their children like they did. After all, he was there to work for all of them. But Merlin, he felt bad. The looks that flashed across the younger brother’s face were subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it, but James didn’t miss any small details—especially when they were to do with the little star.

This was one of these moments, James was positioned outside the closed door as he heard the screaming match going on directly behind him. He heard snippets of conversation, words such as ‘useless’ and ‘pathetic’ making their way to his ears and crushing a little bit of his heart. He supposed he was lucky not to be in the room while it was happening, but all he wanted was to rush in and protect Regulus from the harsh words and actions of his parents.

James allowed his head to rest against the wall, exhaling slowly as his eyes trailed over the dark tiles on the ceilings. The decor on the house was not to James’ personal taste, a combination of dark brown, green, cream, and black. He glanced down to the floor, the extravagant geometric tiles making him feel claustrophobic and sick to the stomach. Harsh black wallpaper covered the wall, the dull gold picture frames making a pathetic attempt to soften the unharmonious glare. The paintings in the frames were judging him, the upturned noses and narrowed eyes made that obvious enough.

James and Regulus had been quick to subtly remove the paintings in the hallway outside Reg’s room—Orion and Walburga didn’t tend to go up there, so no one noticed. Sirius had given them a knowing smirk when he’d caught them sneaking down a hall with a covered portrait of one of Regulus’ great aunts, but he had said nothing. Sirius held an undeniable feeling of respect for James, he could see how much he cared for his little brother, and for that he was eternally grateful.

A sharp, high pitched shout broke James out of his trance, and he glanced at the door with a grimace.

Walburga Black was his least favourite person in the whole world. He couldn’t clearly hear what followed the shout, but he had a few ideas of what it could be. He had been in the room when this had happened a few times before, and Sirius had always seemed indifferent to his parents actions—James knew he wasn’t, of course.

It was all just an act in the Black family, everyone simply pretending to be okay and pushing their feelings to the back of their minds. Regulus was less numb to the pain, and while Sirius just sat there sprawled out on the couch, ignoring his parents, Regulus always looked unnaturally stiff. He was trying to copy Sirius, that much was obvious. But it was clear that the words got to Regulus, the way his brows furrowed and he blinked quickly or looked away with fiddling hands.

Then again, maybe there was a reason that James noticed these things—not that he could take much notice of whatever underlying feelings there were anyway, since Regulus might as well be his employer. He knew Regulus felt the same, of course. There were signs, there had been since a mere two months after James started the job. Fleeting glances, brief touching of fingers as James passed him something to eat, waiting for him in the halls— the list could go on and on.

Regulus knew that James liked him too, as James wasn’t exactly subtle. He tended to forget himself when they were around others, such as Sirius or Pandora—which made for a lot of teasing from the two. Barty and Evan couldn’t say much, as they were in much the same situation.

So the two had kept up the secret whispers and hidden gazes, neither boy making any more to further the relationship, even behind closed doors. There was only so much they could get away with, and they were not embarrassed to admit that they were terrified. They were terrified of the nature of their world, the judgements and the prejudice that came with merely trying to exist. They would prefer to be open with each other about their relationship, but they would take whatever they could get at this point.

The door next to him flew open and Walburga stormed out, not even sparing James the slightest glance as she walked past him. Orion followed close behind, the harsh glare painting his face giving James an idea of the severity of the fight. After the brother’s exchanged short hushed whispers, Sirius walked through the door, offering James a small, polite smile. He walked past and James stopped him quietly. Sirius’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is there anything I can do?” At James’ words, Sirius’ expression softened.

“Talk to him. I’ve done as much as I can, but I think we both know that you’re better at this stuff.” Sirius pulled James into a quick hug, “and thank you. It means a lot that you try, seriously. It’s not exactly part of your job description.” Sirius being Sirius, he laughed, but it was obvious that he wasn’t actually amused. James had known Sirius for three years, and if there was one thing he had learnt about him, it was his use of humour as a coping mechanism.

“You go sneak out to Remus, I’ll take care of him.”

Sirius grinned slightly, reaching out to ruffle James’ hair, “aw, you know me too well.”

James groaned at his now messy hair—as if his hair wasn’t always a mess—pushing Sirius away and waving him towards the door, “go find your lover, Pads.”

Sirius was out the door without another word.

James glanced down the hallway to ensure it was empty and walked into the room the fight had just taken place in. Regulus was sitting on the ground and had his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and head leaning against the cushion of the couch. He didn’t look up when James entered, nor when the older boy crouched down in front of him. His face wasn’t betraying what emotions he was feeling, but James knew.

James always knew.

James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

Regulus nodded, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before looking up. “Good idea.” he took James’ outstretched hand to help him up off the ground. Even well after he had stood up, he kept his hand in James’, determined not to let go.

Regulus clearly had something he wanted to say, but his brain was not connected to the rest of his body, still in autopilot from the fight. His eyes were empty and his hands were clasped together in front of him as James gently rested his palm on his lower back to guide him up the stairs. Regulus subtly leaned into the touch, his heartbeat slowly calming and the goosebumps littering his skin beginning to fade.

Merely being near James brought him an unparalleled sense of peace.

James let his hand rub up and down his lower back comfortingly, and for a brief second he considered taking Regulus’ hand in his own but he decided against it. His brain was plagued with guilt, wishing he could rescue Regulus from the cruel reality that was his family. But no matter what James wanted, it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

James could never give Regulus peace.

Regulus stopped walking and James looked up from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor in confusion. He soon noticed that they were in fact directly outside the door to Regulus’ room. Regulus seemed to take notice of the fact that James was lost in his head and he squeezed his hand reassuringly.

After checking if the hallway was clear, James quickly opened the door. He wasn’t really supposed to enter any of the private rooms in the house, but Regulus had insisted many times that it was alright. No matter how safe Regulus felt around him, he couldn’t risk Orion and Walburga spotting him. He really was Regulus’ only source of comfort.

Regulus sat down on his bed with a blank expression on his face. James sat down next to him and pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. He handed it to Regulus with no words spoken, because the pair didn’t need words. This routine was very familiar to the two of them now, it was almost a second nature.

James quickly checked for any injuries—he hadn’t heard anything to make him suspect that there could’ve been a physical nature to the fight, but he had seen enough bruises on the Black siblings to make double checking an automatic part of the procedure. There was one on the side of Regulus’ cheek, and James pulled out the healing ointment from his bag and carefully put a little bit on the bruise.

James pushed the guilt at being unable to protect Regulus from his parents aside, knowing that this was not about him.

Once Regulus had finished, he slowly leaned into James’ side, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. The crook of James’ neck was like a puzzle piece that was made perfectly for Regulus’ head, and as the two slowly relaxed into each other's presence, James let his hands drift up to Regulus’ hair. His fingers slowly entangled themselves into the dark curls as he comfortingly stroked Regulus’ forehead.

It was clear to James that the support Regulus needed right now was not someone to tend to his wounds, but someone to hold him. So hold him he did. James’ right hand moved slowly up and down the small of Regulus’ back soothingly, showing an undeniable caution not to startle the younger boy with any quick movements.

He cared more about the little star than was possible to admit, and he prioritised his safety over everything else. The two lay in each other’s arms for what felt like (and probably was) hours. Suddenly, Regulus shifted in his arms, mumbling something under his breath.

James tilted his head like a confused puppy, gesturing for Regulus to repeat himself. Regulus cleared his throat and glanced away.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…” Regulus trailed off, and James was about to let it go—he wasn’t going to push for him to open up more than he was willing to do.

“...for keeping me safe.”

The dark haired boy’s voice was merely a whisper, head buried into James’ shoulder as he refused to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed, James realised. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

James thought that the two were about to fall back into their silence, when Regulus spoke. “It’s peaceful.”

Giving him an inquisitive look, James turned to face Regulus.

“Being here with you. You’re peaceful.”

James stiffened slightly before slowly nodding, “yeah, I know what you mean. You’re peaceful too, little star.”

You deserve more peace than I can give you.

Regulus smiled up at him, entwining their fingers reassuringly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace than I am when I lie here with you.”

Merlin, it’s like he can hear my thoughts.

Finally, James responded. “You mean more to me than anyone else ever has, little star.”

There was a raw honesty in his tone. He may not love their situation, but he loved the boy in front of him with his whole heart.

No matter where this road was leading, James knew it was where he wanted to go. Whatever the roadworks along the way, he was in this for good.

#luc posts #luc writes #jegulus #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #i'm so sorry this took so long #also its unneceseraly sad so uh #angst #hurt/comfort #marauders #sirius black #wolfstar mention #james potter x regulus black #marauders era #harry potter marauders #harry potter

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt. 5

WOOOHOOO I did it besties. College has been kicking my you know what but I managed to write another chapterrrrr.

Forgive any grammar errors please, most of this was written at 1am and I don't have an editor.

Hope you liiiiiiiiiike

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

Word count: 5.2k

Color bleeds into peaceful darkness like ink spilled in water. The transition from unconsciousness to lucid dream happens so seamlessly you barely register the shift. The world around you focuses and sharpens until you are once again standing in a desolate purple sky. Levitating chunks of rock are scattered as far as you can see. Some are massive, some are as small as river rocks. You realize, as you creep up to the edge of the floating island you’re standing on, that each one hovers above a terrifying void full of swirling dust and shining constellations. The stars look close enough to touch. You kick some loose pebbles off the side of your rock and watch them descend until they fade out of existence, having fallen farther than your eyes can see. A heavy feeling weighs on your stomach. There’s something off about this place. Your head is quiet, your chest hollow. You feel empty.

“Finally.”

You swing around, your hands raising on instinct to cast a defense spell. For the first time in your life you feel nothing when you reach for the weave. That hum of magic that has lived in your chest since you were too small to remember is missing somehow. 

You drop your useless hands to your side and brace yourself to run instead as a figure approaches you. Their expression is placating, their hands raised in a calming gesture one would approach frightened animals with. 

You try to look them over, but by the time your gaze makes it to their plain black boots and back up you realize they look nothing like you thought they did a second ago. 

Their eyes are a different color, their hair lighter, and the shape of their jaw is different. You start over, determined to memorize every detail. You stop at their hands this time. Was their skin always purple?

That thought is yanked from your head with a lurch. You know there is something missing, but not what. Your chest tightens, your throat burns, your body reacts to some horrifying revelation that you can’t remember. The tadpole in your head squirms.

“Relax.” The creature says in a dozen different voices. 

“I apologize for my unfinished appearance. You’re early, I haven’t had time to work on this form yet. I was trying to perfect one that would comfort you, or at least help you to trust me.”

You meet their gaze and watch their pupils widen and swallow the whites of their eyes. Bones shift subtly under their skin, their joints move and bulge. They grow a foot taller. Their bones audibly grind. 

You take a panicked step back. The shapeshifting creature lunges for you, but it’s too late. Your foot comes down on nothing but empty space, and you lose your balance with a gasp. Gravity sucks you into the void below. 

You don’t even have time to scream before it swallows you whole.

You startle awake, wrestling with the blanket that might as well be tied around you until you manage to kick free of it and sit up, your chest heaving with huge gulping breaths that somehow don’t provide you with any oxygen. The sweat that slicks your clothes to your skin cools in the night air and you hug your knees to your chest. The darkness of the night feels unnatural. Alive even. The large campfire set up in the middle of your bedrolls works valiantly to fight it off. 

You see that your companions are set up in a circle around it. Astarion, Gale, and Lae’zel are all accounted for. Flickering shadows dance over each of their sleeping faces. Strangely, you notice there’s a fifth bedroll occupied on the opposite side of the fire. You squint to try and make out any details but darkness completely obscures the figure. Did one of your companions invite another traveler to join your group? 

You roll to your feet and creep closer to the sleeping stranger, a vague outline of a body under blankets. They’re almost unnaturally still. As far as you can tell their chest doesn’t rise and fall with breath. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s almost as if the light of the fire deliberately avoids them. The flickering orange light only touches the ground a hand's width from either side of their bedroll. You take another step, and then another, until the light of the fire abandons you too. The shadows here have weight. They lie on your skin and whisper in your ear. Hushed voices beg you to turn around, to go back to sleep, to forget. 

You shake them off and hold up your hand, casting an orb of light. The shadows scream as they’re dispelled, and a thick silence befalls the grove. There is no crackling fire, or leaves shaking in the breeze, there is only the blood rushing in your ears and your pounding heartbeat. 

There’s a human girl lying on her back under a fur blanket, pale and unmoving. She looks peaceful. Something about her seems so familiar. You kneel down to study her face, and wince when the leg of your pants soaks with something warm and wet. You hold the light over the bedroll and realize it’s drenched in a dark liquid. It reeks of rot and iron. 

You’re kneeling in a puddle of blood. 

Startled, you glance back up at the girl’s face. 

Her eyes are open. 

They’re clouded with death, but you remember them. The druid from the grove you couldn’t save.

A single tear falls from her eye.

The light in your hand winks out.

The shadows laugh.

You wake up with a gasp in your camp once more, tangled in your bedroll. The sky is decorated in the red and orange rays of the setting sun. Like before, the cold air all but freezes the sweat on your skin and wracks your body with shivers. The temperature drop from day to night was startling out here in the wilds. 

“I think I’m in hell” You hiss through chattering teeth.

“I never imagined the nine hells of Baator to be so frigid, but I suppose considering our luck it is a possibility.” A familiar voice responds.

You turn to find that Gale is tossing chunks of meat into a cauldron of boiling stew over the fire you’re lying next to. The smell of it is so sinfully good you almost start drooling. You don’t trust it. You stand on shaky legs and lean forward, poking Gale in the cheek.

Gale regards you with concern, his brow furrowed. He makes no move to push you away, but he looks deeply confused.

“I will admit, I haven’t exactly been a paragon of sociality these past few years, but I think I would have noticed if it suddenly became appropriate to greet someone by way of- whatever it is you’re currently doing.”

“As a paragon of sociality I must disagree, keep up the good work Tav.” Astarion calls from somewhere behind you. 

Gale glares at the vampire over your shoulder, but you pay no mind to their squabbling. Gale’s skin is warm under your finger.

“You feel so lifelike.” 

You grab him by the chin and tilt his head in every direction, looking for the flaw that will prove you’re still dreaming. 

He swats your hand away and leans as far back as he can away from your grasping fingers.

“Ooookay. I think the whole stabbing situation may have had more negative consequences than we originally thought. You should sit down.”

That’s a good idea. You can just wait here. You’ll have to wake up eventually.

You nod and unceremoniously plop back down on your bedroll. Your eyes are stuck unfocused and staring at nothing at all. Your mind is curiously empty. You think you should be feeling something, but honestly you’re just numb. 

A few moments later Astarion drops gracefully into a crouch in front of you, leaning down to catch your eyes.

“Hey Tav? What’s goin on?”

“I’m waiting to wake up.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he strikes, bluntly flicking you between the eyes.

You rear back in shock and rub your stinging skin.

“This wouldn't be the first time someone's looked at me and assumed they were dreaming but you’re not asleep Tav.”

“What the fuck Astarion!?”

He smiles, eyes alight with smug satisfaction.

“There she is. You’ve been out of commission for far too long, hero. If I have to hear one more story about Gale’s glory days I’m going to beg you to kill me.”

Gale scoffs.

“Keep making comments like that and you’ll go to bed hungry.”

“He won’t be able to eat what you’re making anyway.” You attempt to remind Gale before you realize he doesn’t know about Astarion’s… special diet.

The vampire holds up his hand as if to flick you again, an evil glint in his eye.

You flinch back in genuine fear. Your forehead still stings, you’d like to avoid a repeat.

“Ah,” Gale nods in solemn understanding. “Allergies?” 

“Something like that” Astarion agrees, glaring at you.

You clear your throat nervously and glance around.

“Where is Lae’zel?” You change the subject.

“Just listen” Gale responds and tilts his head toward the trees just outside your encampment.

Sure enough you can hear the rhythmic thwack of steel on wood. 

“What is she doing?”

“We needed firewood, the Githyanki needed to violently take her anger out on a tree, everyone wins” Astarion shrugs.

“Didn’t she have a concussion?” You ask. Gale nods.

“I wouldn’t mention it if I were you. She’s rather put out about it. She’s fine though. The Druidic healers were most competent. All four of us have been thoroughly examined and healed of all ailments. Well, other than the tadpoles of course. We still have those. Other than that, any remaining injuries are purely psychological.”  

You nod, reminded of your nightmares.

“And how do I fix those?” 

Astarion reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask, tilting it toward you in offering.

You frown and shake your head, the idea of drinking on such an empty stomach makes you nauseous.

“You asked” he shrugs and tips the remaining contents of the flask into his mouth. He stands and offers you a hand, which you take, and pulls you easily to your feet. Your shoulder throbs in protest, and you start to wonder how “healed” it really is.

Gale loudly announces that the food is ready, prompting Lae’zel to trudge out of the forest a few moments later dragging a small tree behind her. It wrenches the plants from the earth and leaves a deep trench in the ground. 

Maybe you’ll avoid Lae’zel for the night. 

She seems a little upset in a way you’re not equipped to deal with. 

Astarion turns and strides into the forest, presumably to look for his own meal.

You serve yourself a massive portion and eat in appreciative silence, scarfing down the only food you’ve had since being kidnapped. 

When you’ve scraped the bottom of the bowl for every last drop, you turn to Gale, a question you’ve been dying to ask on the tip of your tongue. 

“Gale, you seem to know a bit about cera-“ you trail off as the name of your condition eludes you.

“Ceremorphosis?” Gale finishes for you, and you snap your fingers. 

“Yes! Ceremorphosis. I was wondering if you knew how long we have to… well- live?”

Gale’s expression sobers. He reaches down and grabs a few dry twigs, tossing them into the fire. 

“I only know what I’ve read, I have no first hand experience, but I’ve found the general consensus is seven days.” 

You nod, placing your bowl on the ground next to you as the food sours in your stomach.

“Six days to find a cure then. Surely more has been done with less” you mutter.

Gale nods and leans back on his elbows, studying the night sky.

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t die this way. I refuse to.” 

His conviction is almost strong enough that you believe him. Almost.

When the conversation dies out Gale retires to his tent to learn the spells etched into the scrolls he took from the grove merchant. Lae’zel pulls out her greatsword and begins hacking away at a wooden dummy, presumably left by one of the druids.

You turn your gaze to the crossbow haphazardly tossed to the ground near your bedroll. You had slept for hours after the battle, and Gale’s surprisingly good stew had energized you. There was no way you’d be able to sleep now. Out here on the sword coast the stars were bright enough to cast the grove in a soft blue light. Now was as good a time as any to learn a new skill. Besides, if you sit around wallowing in your impending doom for a moment longer you may take yourself out before the tadpole gets its chance to. You pick up the hefty weapon and stride into the forest, away from any potentially judgemental eyes. You walk for a long time. The dense forest is far too compact for you to practice with a ranged weapon in, so you hike until you stumble upon a small clearing.

You ready yourself and pull the bowstring back until you hear something click. So far so good. You load the bow with one of the five bolts that came with it and aim for the knot of a rather large oak tree. You pull the trigger and watch the bolt sail into the dark woods, far from the tree you were aiming for.

You shake it off, it’s your first attempt after all. You reload the crossbow, take aim, and once again watch as it disappears into the darkness. Maybe doing this at night in the forest wasn’t the best idea. Imagining digging through the bramble bushes to retrieve your missing bolts makes you wonder how bad ceremorphosis could actually be. As much as you don’t want to admit it, it rankles you that you’re terrible at this.

You lean against the nearest tree and slide down it, rubbing at your aching chest. You swear you can hear a clock ticking faintly in your ears. You have six days to live. The cold nights will give rise to the winter solstice in a month or two. If you had known last year’s celebration had been your last, maybe you would have actually celebrated it instead of locking yourself in your office and pouring over the mountains of paperwork your boss had asked you to look over. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, taking a deep breath through your nose. You allow the rustling leaves and the scent of the cool earth to calm you.

A twig snaps.

You freeze.

After a few moments of tense silence, you release the breath you’d been holding. You’re being paranoid. The most dangerous creatures in these woods are bears, and the druids seem to have befriended most of them. You’re safe.

You take a few more deep breaths when you hear it again, a branch snapping along with heavy breathing, from a rather large creature as far as you can tell.

You scramble to arm the bow with a bolt and hold it defensively in front of you. 

You haven’t managed to hit a target once, but whatever roams these woods doesn’t need to know that.

The breathing gets louder as the creature draws closer, snapping branches and crunching leaves under its heavy feet.

You watch as a snout emerges from the bushes in front of you, followed by tusks. A boar shoves its way through brambles and into your little clearing. It spots you, then your crossbow. Its eyes widen with a recognition you didn’t realize boars were capable of. It squeals and whips around, its legs scrambling beneath it as it flees back into the dark forest. You breathe a sigh of relief and lower the crossbow, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll need instruction if you ever hope to use it. 

“What are you doing?” Someone asks so close to you, you feel their breath caress the shell of your ear.

You yelp in shock and drop the crossbow on your foot, letting out a slew of curses a sailor from the pirate isles would blush over.

Astarion is crouched behind you, one hand on the tree you’re leaning against, an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face.

“If I were a monster you’d be dead right now.”

“You’re an undead vampire, I think you qualify, and yet-” You pause to press two fingers to the pulse point in your neck, 

“Yep. Still alive!” You shout.

The boar squeals in the woods somewhere, startling you. Astarion grips his stomach and laughs from somewhere deep in his chest.

“What is it with you and pigs?” You hiss. 

“You’re lucky the wilds are full of those boars you know. I go long enough without feeding and our friends' necks start looking very appetizing.”

You sigh and throw your head back in exasperation, perhaps slightly too hard. Acting on reflex, Astarion catches the back of your head before it can slam into the bark of the tree behind you.

“You’re welcome” 

“I don’t have the energy to banter with you Astarion. Leave.”

He promptly does the opposite and takes a seat next to you, leaning against your tree.

“What’s gotten into you?”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Mind flayer larvae.”

“Ah. So all this moping is about the illithid.”

“I’m not moping.” 

“Yes, you are, and you have every reason to.”

“So do you. According to Gale the tadpoles kill their hosts within a week's time. It doesn’t bother you that we might die soon?”

“My circumstances are… different.”

The response confuses you. The way you see it, everyone that survived the nautiloid is in the exact same situation.

“How so?”

Astarion presses the heel of his hand into his chin and cracks his neck on either side, stalling for time as he thinks of an answer. He sighs.

“If we fail, and I die in the wilderness somewhere a few days from now, I will have traded an eternity of darkness and starvation for a week of sunlight and freedom. Obviously I’d rather not die. I’d give just about anything to live long enough to give Cazador the brutal death I’ve been fantasizing about for oh- a couple hundred years now. But if I don’t get that chance, at least I will die as Astarion, not Cazador’s pet.”

You place a hand over your chest, genuinely moved and only slightly disturbed by that explanation.

“Astarion that was beautiful'' You turn and press your lips together in suppressed laughter at the regretful look on his face.

“No no no, you keep moping, your life has gotten dramatically worse. Continue being sad about it.”

“Well that was the plan but now I’m all inspired by your optimism in the face of imminent death.”

Astarion groans and pushes off the tree.

“That’s disgusting. I’m not an optimist.”

Your answering smile shows all your teeth.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I thought you weren’t in the mood to banter.”

“What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

He sighs, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. His face lights up with some epiphany, and he yanks two crossbow bolts out of his belt to wave them in front of your face.

“Missing something?”

You snatch the bolts from his hand with a grumbled thank you.

His expression remains passive but his eyes fill with mischief. 

“How did you get these?” 

“I was on my way back from my meal when I almost lost an eye to one of them.” He taps his finger against the razor sharp tip of one of the bolts in your hand. 

“It’s how I found you in the first place.”

He motions toward the crossbow resting on the ground by your feet. 

“I can show you how to use that. If you’d like.”

You were just thinking about how you needed someone to show you how to properly shoot the thing. Maybe a distraction is exactly what you need.

“I would.”

He leans down and picks up the crossbow. He loads and fires it within seconds, pinning a falling leaf to the trunk of a nearby tree.

You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“Just making sure it works.”

You expect Astarion to teach the way he does everything else, by flirting with you in a way that makes you wonder if he’s trying to seduce you or eat you. You brace yourself, but the witty remarks don’t come. Astarion simply shows you how pulling back the bowstrings unevenly can make it hard to aim, the timing of when to pull the trigger, and how to account for the wind. He’s a fantastic tudor, and he whistles loudly when you hit your target for the first time. You go from being unable to hit anything to being able to hit within the general vicinity of your chosen mark most of the time within an hour or so. 

“That’s all the basics. Your aim isn’t exactly spot on but that’s not something I can teach you. You need to trust your instincts more.”

“My instincts are broken” You sigh.

“I’ve noticed,” he says darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve spent the last hour or so alone in the dark woods with someone you know would eat you alive given half a chance.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, that would completely negate the whole saving me from the goblin thing earlier. Besides, you just had your fill of boar blood, you can’t still be hungry.”

“You adorable, naive little thing. I wasn’t talking about drinking your blood.”

You shove at his shoulder as hard as you can and he stumbles a step to the side, chuckling like the deviant he is. You’re almost relieved to have the relentless flirt back. The patient encouraging version of Astarion that taught you how to shoot a crossbow was harder to wrap your brain around.

He sobers quickly.

“Does it scare you?” He asks suddenly, as if he couldn’t hold back the words anymore.

“What?” You ask.

“What I am.”

Oh.

“Honestly?”

“Well I didn’t ask you to test your deception skills.”

“Yes.” You answer plainly, and Astarion nods, his expression intentionally neutral.

“Your instincts may not be so broken after all.”

As you gather the scattered bolts from the trunks of surrounding trees, an odd sensation builds in the center of you. You feel… guilty? Astarion both defended you and taught you how to defend yourself in one evening, and you hadn’t done a single thing for him. You feel like you owe him, and you hate owing people.

You know he despises being thanked, but maybe he wouldn’t mind exchanging one favor for another.

You place the bolts in your quiver and return to Astarion.

“I have something for you.”

His blank expression flickers with an emotion you can’t pinpoint.

“Should I be nervous?”

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the amulet you procured from the druid merchant. You hold it between you, watching the pendant sway instead of meeting his eyes.

“It’s a magical item. It allows a person, even someone not versed in magic, to use the spell contained within it. This one holds misty step. It’s a short-distance teleportation spell. You’re our archer, so I thought you could use it to find high ground in a fight faster than if you had to climb for it.” You brave a glance up.

Astarion reaches for the amulet, then drops his hand back down to his side. He looks almost scared of it.

“It won’t bite you.” You joke- an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“I just- I haven’t been given a gift in over two hundred years.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t surprise you.

“I’d like to change that, if you’ll let me.”

He holds out a hand and you drop the pendant into it. He examines it for a moment.

“I have no idea how to use this.” 

You smile.

“I could teach you, if you’d like.”

~~~

“I’m beginning to think there is no magic in this necklace and you’re just testing how long I’ll fall for your tricks.” Astarion growls several minutes later from his meditative position on the ground. 

You sit next to him, your legs crossed in an identical position, your head tipped back. 

“As I said, magic casting isn’t a physical skill, it's a metaphysical one. If you can’t reach for the amulet you won’t move an inch.”

Astarion opens one eye to make sure you’re not looking and reaches for the necklace.

“With your soul not your hand.” 

He drops his hand back into his lap.

“I don’t have one of those darling.”

“It’s a figure of speech darling.” 

He opens one eye again and smirks.

“Careful” He warns in an eerily hypnotic voice, and the hair on the back of your neck rises.

You rub the tingling skin and fix your companion with an admonishing look. 

“Keep your vampire mojo to yourself and focus.”

He closes his eyes and bows his head. His mess of curly white hair immediately falls over his face. He looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

“The magic in the amulet can be felt. It’s full of unreleased energy. It wants to connect with you. All you have to do is allow it. Imagine your consciousness can move independently of your body and reach out to it.”

Astarion’s face scrunches in concentration, and you wait patiently as he tries to connect with the amulet.

A twinge in your skull makes you wince, distracting you. It feels different from the tadpole’s usual antics. Something clicks into place, and you feel a new presence slide into your already crowded mind. Astarion had linked you two somehow.

You feel the exact moment he realizes he’s not alone in his own head. His eyes shoot open and the connection snaps as quickly as it formed.

“What was that?” You whisper.

“I think I reached too far.”

“I wanted you to use the amulet not possess me!”

“You possessed me back!”

“Okay, it’s fine, just- try again. Aim for the amulet this time.”

Astarion closes his eyes again and you stare up at the stars, praying to whatever god was listening for patience.

His gasp brings you back down to reality, and when you face Astarion again his eyes are swirling with silver light.

You scramble to your feet and hastily back up several paces.

“We only get one shot at this until your next rest so make it count. Focus on the ground in front of me and just take a step. You should end up exactly where you want to be.”

He stands slowly, and stares pointedly at the ground at your feet. He lifts his foot, and disappears.

He apparates again no more than an inch away from you, and you lurch back in surprise, stumbling over your own feet. You reach out for something to grab to slow your fall, the closest thing happening to be Astarion, and you take him down with you.

He lands sprawled on top of you with a groan, and you wheeze as the breath is knocked out of you.

Astarion pushes himself up on his elbows, your noses an inch apart. His eyes still glow, the after effects of the spell he cast. He looks almost like a normal elven man in the moments before his usual red bleeds back in, crowding out the silver. You think about his question from earlier, does it scare you- what I am? A vision of a non-vampiric Astarion fills your mind. His eyes metallic, his skin tone warmer, his canines short and dull. This version is in no way preternaturally graceful. His gait is hurried, even clumsy at times. The sharpest thing he ever handles is a letter opener, and occasionally, he slips up and slices his finger when he’s rushing to get done with his work. The sight of the red blood that drips onto the white paper makes him woozy, so he rushes for a bandage, hastily wrapping the wound while refusing to look at it. He isn’t the most observant, but he’s whip smart, and a talented orator. He’s a little cocky but with the bright future ahead of him he has every right to be. He ascends to the role of magistrate in no time. He makes mostly fair judgments, but the lower city of Baldur’s Gate is cut throat, and one night on his way back home from a long night, he turns down the wrong street. 

For better or worse that elf died that night. The man you know is someone else entirely, and has been for centuries. It was the vampire, not the mortal, that saved your life earlier in the day.

Your shoulder throbs when your thoughts shift to earlier in the day. You see in your mind the goblin that sunk its jagged blade into your shoulder, and the murderous look in its dull yellow eyes. The arrow that pierced its neck had spared you a dreadful end.

As if he can sense your thoughts, Astarion’s eyes cut to your shoulder. His smirk fades, and he pulls down the collar of your shirt just enough to reveal your new scar. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, he traces the raised red line with his thumb. His cool skin feels amazing against the still-healing angry scar, and you can’t help the shudder that moves through you. Astarion’s gaze returns to yours, and you’re surprised to find his expression is absolutely wrathful.

“I killed that wretched creature far too quickly,”

“Personally I thought your timing was spot on.”

“Hmm.” Is his only response.

In a moment you become hyper-aware of every place his body touches yours. He’s settled on top of you, one leg between yours, most of his weight propped on his elbow, his other hand still stroking that damn scar. It’s becoming hard for you to think clearly. He on the other hand seems wholly unaffected, lost in his murderous thoughts. You clear your throat to get his attention.

“You can get up now.”

He seems to realize as you did the rather intimate position you two landed in, and a smile slowly creeps onto his face.

“I’m rather comfortable where I’m at”

You know he’s instigating, but the bait is too tempting. 

“Move or I’ll move you.”

His smile turns devious.

“You think you can?”

There’s a challenge in that question. One you’re not entirely sure you can meet. Still, you lift your chin defiantly.

“I do”

He leans in, his jaw brushing your cheek as he brings his mouth to your ear.

“Very convincing.” He whispers, “I’d believe you if I couldn’t hear how fast your heart is racing.” 

You can’t think of a witty retort. 

You can’t think at all.

He leans back with a self satisfied look you desperately want to wipe off his smug face.

So, you reach up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and do the only thing you know will surprise him.

You bring his mouth to yours.

~~~~

Gettin shpoicy

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[lou-struck]

Winning Streak

Katskui Bakugou x reader Part 1

College! AU

~You have hidden your crush on Katsuki Bakugou for a while now, but when he shows up at your door wearing nothing but a pizza box everything changes.

Warnings- swearing, nudity, but everything important is covered, the reader being a bit flustered by it, Football Player Katsuki, eavesdropping.

The dorms at your University are always quiet on a Friday Night, the carpeted hallways abandoned for the bright lights of the football field. Checking your social media you can see that all your friends are there watching your university's Football Team try to conquer their enemies and secure themselves a spot in this season's playoffs.

Usually, you would be right there with them cheering on your team and staring wistfully at the helmeted head of Katsuki Bakugou, the star running back with an explosive temper.

You've had a few classes with the Blond and he lives on the floor below you with all of the other football players, they are a loud group but they never fail to put a smile on your face when you pass them by or run into one of them in the kitchen. Everyone is friendly except Bakugou, you barely see him out and about and he doesn't really socialize with those outside of his team.

But he does seem to tolerate you more than others. If you are in the common area working on homework he sometimes will join you at your table to do his own work, The two of you would sit there for hours without saying a word to each other. until he finishes his assignment and leaves.

The encounters are strange but you can't seem to shake the crush that you have on him at all, something about this insanely smart, grumpy man who sits with you has made a home in your heart has persuaded you to stand out in the cold rain to watch him run into endzone after endzone. Tonight would be no exception.

But you sadly have other things to do...

It's supposed to be one of the biggest games of the year and the after-parties are supposed to be legendary.

Looking down at your unfinished essay with a sigh you think about all the fun your friends will be having tonight while you stay home collecting dust over your notebook. Through your open window, the lights of the stadium shine in the distance able to be seen and the cheers of the crowd reach your ears through the glass to signal the start of the game.

You erase the first few words you had written down before with a groan, it's going to be a long night.

~

Your phone has been flung onto your bed for your own sake, you kept wanting to check the score of the game whenever you heard an increase in the steady volume of cheering from outside. By the time the cheering has stopped and the game is over you are nearly down with your paper. The muscles in your hand seize and ache and your pencil sharpener is full of fresh shavings from how many times you have had to happen your utensil.

The full sharpener and multiple completed pages scream at you to take a break and so you do. Your legs feel stiff as you get up out of your seat and walk to where you chucked your phone.

Right away you can see all of the celebratory videos your friends have posted from within the mob of celebrating students and players.

'They won,' you say to yourself with a smile as you hear a commotion coming from the outside. Curiously you peek and see the dyed head of Eijiroru Kirishima getting out of his car leading a pack of sweaty but energetic Football players. Katsuki gets out from the passenger seat behind them.

You know it's impolite to eavesdrop but you can't help it, cracking open your window just a bit you are able to listen to their conversation.

"Bakubro, are you sure you don't want to go with us to the party?" Kirishima says yelling back to his Bestfriend.

The blond shakes his head "Nah, that shits gonna be lame. I have better things to do than to Drink with a bunch of freshmen."

The other players make it into the building but Kiri walks back and slings an arm around Bakugou...Lucky Bastard.

"Are you sure you don't wanna go? They might be there." He says with a grin that blinds you from where you are standing.

Bakugou thrashes his arms and tries to wiggle out of Kirishima's Grasp, "what the hell shitty hair?" he yells before quieting down a bit and turning his head as if he is nervous about someone hearing him. "I never should've told you that."

"ha, you really shouldn't of." he teases. "So are you going?"

"No Shuttdup," Katsuki grumbles walking out of your field of view "I'm gonna shower and get to bed, it's exhuastin having to carry your asses all game."

"Ouch, I know you don't mean that Buddy," Kiri says with a chuckle. He raises his head and looks around, you really don't want to be caught eavesdropping. With urgency, you didn't know you possess you hit the ground to avoid the Red Heads' gaze.

By the time you get up the man is gone and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

'This is what I get for eavesdropping.' you mumble thinking back to what Eijirou said to his friend. '20,000 people go to this school, of course, Katsuki Bakugou likes someone.'

With a huff you turn your attention to your paper, hoping that if you get done you still could make it to someone's party and forget about the fact that your crush is basically off the market.

~

It's been forty minutes or so of writing and erasing when you hear the roaring laughter from downstairs. It's not anything unusual but it's enough to make you look back out the window at the much cleaner-looking Athletes running toward Kirishima's van, the redhead pulls out of his spot and out of the lot.

With the absence of Kirishima and his teammates, the dorms are once again quiet. With everyone else out having the time of their lives partying you feel more motivated than ever to get to work on your essay. You plop down in your chair and prepare to finish it as soon as you can.

Raising your pen you prepare to start the next paragraph. Just as you begin to write you hear a string of curses and the sound of thumping footsteps, the sound shocks you enough to make you jerk your arm and send a streak of black ink across your paper.\

Now you're the one who's cursing.

The footsteps outside only get louder. With a huff, you scoot back from the desktop and stomp to your room door, ready to chew out whoever is making all this noise when you are trying to concentrate.

Gripping the doorknob you fling it open and come face-to-face with Katsuki Bakugou, He has a look of embarrassment on his cheeks. Immediately you understand why. Droplets of water cling to his hair and down his bare chest. With the exception of a conveniently placed pizza box from a place on campus, the Man is completely nude.

Your eyes meet his crimson ones in shock.

"Kat-" you start to say but he cuts you off.

"Those Idiots took my clothes and my keys when I was in the shower," he says.

You blink stupidly at the specimen in front of you unable to find the part of your brain that makes speech possible.

"Well, are ya gonna let me in?" he says irritably glancing back at the hallway he just came from.

You step aside for him to come inside and you try your best not to catch a glimpse of his backside as he walks past you. "I can get you a towel... and some clothes." you finally say in a hushed tone. You grab one of your folded towels and some worn sweatpants and a sleepshirt from your closet and toss it to him fearing that if you looked at him too closely you may just combust.

He takes the clothes and examines them carefully, "Are these your boyfriend's or something?" he says with a disinterested tone.

"N-no," you say "They’re pajamas. Now can you please just put them on?"

He turns around and gives you the biggest smirk you have ever seen. "What? you don't like what ya see?"

Normally you are even-tempered but there is just something about having the school's star athlete naked in your bedroom that just makes you lose it for a second.

"No, I want you to put them on so you stop getting my carpet wet and you don't sit on my bed with your bare ass, Katsuki." you snap at him.

Katsuki chuckles at your display but takes the clothes. "Cute."

You turn around with your arms crossed as you hear the sound of shuffling clothes and the pizza box hitting the floor. "Are you done yet?" you ask.

"Yea, don't worry Princess, I'm modest now." he jeers. Hoping you arent being punked, you turn around. The clothes fit him well, The faded sweats and stretched-out T-shirt look way better on him than they ever did no you, it's a bit unfair that Katsuki looks so good without even trying.

"You weren't at the game," he says matter o factly. as he walks over to your desk and begins to pick up the little trinkets on your desk.

"Nope, I had things to do," you say gesturing to your essay.

he glances down at it, "This for Aizawa's class? You know that's not due for a while."

"No the deadline says it's due the 17th." you protest.

"Yeah, the 17th of November, he laughs.

"You're joking," you groan feeling a deep set feeling of uncomfortableness in your temples. Did you really spend the last five hours writing like a madman for a paper that is due in over a month?

Did you really have to look this stupid in front of your crush?

"Maybe I like being ahead," you say defensively crossing your arms. "At least I'm not streaking through the dorms like a pervert, why did you even come up the stairs anyway, a RA could've unlocked your door for you?"

A pink tint covers his cheeks as he kicks the now discarded pizza box toward your trash can. "There is no way I'm letting that damn idiot see me like this, I knew that you were here so I came up. here once those extras took my shit."

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, seeing him embarrassed fills you with confidence. This is the longest conversation the two of you have ever had and he's never been to your dorm room before.

"Shitty Hair told me he saw you earlier," he tells you. Taking a deep breath he starts towards the door. “ I’ll bring your stuff back tomorrow, I’ll just chill in the hall till they get back.“

”Wait, you can stay here if you’d like.“ you say a little too quickly to be subtle. “You guys won a big game today, they probably are going to be out all night, and nowhere else is open.”

There is a soft sincerity in his gaze as he looks back at you. "Are you okay if I stay?" his voice has a softness to it that you have never heard before, it almost sounds nervous.

"I don't mind," you smile at him "I'm not really in the mood to go anywhere tonight."

His shoulders drop and a switch seems to flip inside of him.

"Good, those parties are lame," he smiles flopping down on your bed like it's his room, not yours."You shouldn't waste your time with those extras."

"Extras? Really?" you tease "How would you know? You never go out."

"What, are you looking for me now?" he says with a grin.

It’s so unfair, how does he get to fluster you like that? You don’t get him at all. 

It’s almost as if he’s flirting with you. But why would he? 

Katsuki Bakugou can have anyone he wants, why should he bother with you?

“ It's not like that, “you say clenching your fist into balls. He’s right though, it’s exactly like that. Any party that you have gone to on campus no matter how much you’ve had to drink your eyes scan the room looking for only him. 

“Are you sure?“ He says calling your bluff immediately.

Your voice comes out so small, one wouldn't dare to call it a whisper. But his ears pick up the syllable as it leaves your lips. 

"No.”

#Bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha fluff #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo fluff

[cherrybeartoast]

Bleached Hair and Blue Ink Stars - Jeongin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Drabble ୨୧ inspired by retro teen movies

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: A bit of angst, fluff, pining, friends to lovers

Warnings: Don't think there are any?

Listen to: Ditto by NewJeans

Author's Note: I was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how my mum wants me to marry Jeongin (for the record, my mum is a skz stan and refers to them as her sons, but recently she swapped from a Chan bias to a Jeongin bias, recently as in yesterday lmao) and I found this drabble which was unfinished sitting in my docs! I edited a bit and finished it up...its pretty short, but gosh it made me feel things!

Friendship that lasted for decades came with many bonuses.

The bonuses outweighed the consequences in almost each and every way, yet so many still loomed heavily above you.

You hadn't been able to stop yourself.

Why couldn't you have just remained a normal friend, his best friend?

Why were you spending hours, analysing the simplest things that he did, things that made your heart flutter, scream, and slingshot all the way to the moon and back?

The way he ate the strawberry liquorice he loved so much; his pink tongue pointed and sticking out occasionally to brush his lower lip as he savoured the candy.

The way he'd drag you home with him almost each night after school, hand you a cherry cola, and you'd spend hours playing video games and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Jisung would join you, but those evenings you got Jeongin all to yourself were something you treasured. And sometimes, those nights would end with more than just you kissing him on the cheek goodbye. Some mornings, you’d wake up, sprawled across his chest, the ghost of his lips on your neck, and the aching feeling of missing something. The feeling that even if he held your hand all the way to school, where you’d enter class together and apologise in unison for being late, he could slip away oh so easily.

The way he had made a habit of sketching little stars in a blue ballpoint pen around the few freckles that dotted your arm.

You looked down at your skin. There were still faded sketches dotting your arm, blue ink melting into your skin. Ghosts of the drawings he’d done yesterday; disappearing but still very much so there.

Of course there were other girls. Girls who’d message him day after day, ask for his Snapchat, stick post-it notes onto his locker and cling to his arm in the hallway.

He tried not to pay too much attention to them; the occasional smile and ‘hey’, but never responding to their affection, to their endless babble.

Jeongin was made to be a high school crush. He had  bleached hair with the slightest hint of pink to it, sharp, fox-like features, contrasting wildly with his soft, dimpled cheeks, frequently flushed with a peach tinge.

You sometimes wondered why he gave you the time of day. Jeongin, although he wasn’t necessarily the most popular guy, was known across your grade and even the years above. He was older than almost everyone in the year level; an early birthday had originally granted him a move up to twelfth grade, but he’d opted against it. His friends were all in the year above, and whilst he still sometimes sat with them at break times, he’d decided to go for you.

“He hardly sits with us anymore,” Jisung mumbled to you, after Jeongin had passed out on the couch, head in your lap, arms around your waist. 

“I know. I keep asking him why. He says he sees you guys enough.”

Jisung looked down at Jeongin’s babyish expression as he slept, face pressed against your stomach. “Or he’s in love with you,” Jisung had reasoned, ruffling your hair and giving Jeongin’s arm a pinch before leaving.

You’d looked down at the pile of Jeongin lying before you; sleepy, clingy and oh so angelic. His features looked softer in the dim light, and his eyelashes fluttered every few seconds.

Every soft breath against your stomach made your heart swell, and you wished, just for a moment, that he’d say it out loud. Admit to it. 

You looked down at your arms, admiring the faded stars again. There was one in particular, a little larger than the rest. It wasn’t really a star anymore. His hand must have slipped. You craned your neck a little closer, getting a better look at the smudge of blue ink.

A heart.

You breathed out a little, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open.

You stroked his hair softly, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but he sat up, looking into your eyes. 

You felt so overwhelmed by him, but in the most beautiful way possible. By his sparkling eyes and his sweet face, the soft scent of his skin, and finally,

His lips on yours.

#cherrybeartoast #cherrybearwrites #cherry writes #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz #skz imagines #stray kids fic #skz fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids kpop #stray kids oneshot #straykids #seungmin x reader #hyunjin x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #felix x reader #jeongin x reader #bangchan x reader #lee know #minho #changbin #seo changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #felix #yongbok #bangchan

[tonystarktogo]

PLEASE continue As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration. I’m missing 2012 avengers with 2023 shenanigans so bad

Natasha would like to say that she notices something is off immediately—and if anyone asks that is what she will claim and good luck trying to prove otherwise—but the truth is it’s not until a good five minutes after Clint has woken up, heavily concussed and beat up but himself, in the back of their not-quite-stolen getaway car that she realizes it.

Which is a solid two hours after Stark catches on. Stark.

Granted, Natasha has had other things on her mind. Like the alien capable of mind-control getting a hold of the one person she might actually one day admit to count as a real friend without lying, should the stars align and the confession suit her purpose. Or the invading army that followed on said alien’s heels.

But that is no excuse to discard the many, many inconsistencies she’s observed but ignored or brushed off instead of questioned like her instincts have insisted with increasing alarm ever since she has watched Rogers and Banner hover over Stark like he might disappear the second they take their eyes off of him.

There’d been speculation in Rogers file that he might be positively inclined towards Stark on the grounds of his familiarity with Howard Stark but even if SHIELD’s attempt to discourage a connection with such a volatile asset had failed that still wouldn’t explain the depth of Roger’s emotional reaction to Stark.

Don’t even get her started on Banner.

Stark stands for everything Bruce Banner has done his best to avoid since he got his monstrous green personality addition. The way he has actively sought Tony Stark at his most sarcastic out makes no sense whatsoever. Nor does the tension between Banner and Rogers, that screams of frustration born out of long-held disagreements stretched out over years, not a twenty minutes long acquaintance.

And all that doesn’t touch on the fact that the Asgardian crown prince Thor has treated all of them—Stark and Natasha included—like long lost friends.

Not just in the way he’s greeted Stark with an actual hug either. Big, boisterous statements are easier to fake, though what aim such a pretense would serve Natasha doesn’t know, but it’s the little things that made her pause, almost succeeded in distracting her from her primary goal of getting Clint back.

The loaded glances. The unfinished sentences that were understood nonetheless. They way they stepped into formation reflexively the moment the explosion shook the helicarrier, like they knew where everyone else would stand. Like they’d been in that position before.

She set it aside because she needed to focus on Clint. So that is what she did.

Natasha doesn’t regret that because Clint needed her and now he’s alright. Bloodied and fucked-up but himself.

But she does regret letting all those hints go, just a little, because Clint may be himself but it only takes her five minutes in his company to know for sure that he’s not the same.

He tackles her in a hug that almost gets them killed the moment he regains consciousness—which is actually the most in-character thing she has seen him do so far—but he doesn’t tap their agreed upon all-clear signal out against her shoulder. He doesn’t flinch or tense when he catches sight of Loki—and yeah, the guy might be a victim too, but how would Clint know that? And even if he does, that still doesn’t mean no reaction to his presence at all.

Most damning though is that moment in Stark’s elevator, just before the doors open and they step out onto the roof and it’s a lightening quick motion someone else might have missed but Natasha is watching for it and she knows exactly what she’s seeing. Mere seconds before stepping into a potentially life-threatening situation, Clint doesn’t look to her. Instead his gaze flicks to Rogers, to Banner, to Thor, and he takes his cue from them.

He’s subtle about it and he does clock her and Stark too, as is only expected, but that first reflex doesn’t lie.

So while it might have taken Natasha longer to catch on than she’d prefer, she knows. The question now is what she’s going to do with that knowledge.

Natasha leans back in her seat, a position that reinforces the relaxed air she’s been so carefully feigning ever since they’ve stepped into this slightly run-down local restaurant whose staff has been handling their unexpected and strange customers surprisingly well so far, lets her gaze roam over their curious group—takes in the way Thor pushes more food onto Loki’s plate every time their wannabe conqueror finishes, how Clint keeps shooting looks at her, not so much like he’s trying to communicate and more like he’s checking if she’s still there, while Rogers and Banner throw unexpectedly cutting barbs at each other when they aren’t trying to pull Stark into a conversation—and does what she does best: she plots.

Let's be real, nothing good can come from this.

#ReRe answers #ReRe writes #oops my hand slipped #MCU #fic #as subtle as cognitive recalibration #probably not what you had in mind anon #but here have some natascha #natasha romanoff #anon

[randomwriteronline]

One night, when all is over, when all can rest; when Kiina sleeps listening to the waves, Berix nursing the newest still unfinished project, Gresh not having any new scars to count, Click barely batting a wing; Ackar hears the voice of Mata Nui smile with such infinite love, and wakes up.

He sits up and listens again: if he strains his ears, if he forces himself to shut down the frantic beating of his heart, he thinks he can hear that voice again. He could swear he is talking, maybe humming, so close and yet so impossibly far away, even further than the resting place of the Ignika but somehow right next to him, tone filled with mournful joy, with an affection that brings one to tears.

Someone is out there, outside.

Someone is singing, outside.

He leaves.

One night, when all is over, Ackar forces himself to stumble out of town and into the cold, into the slowly receding desert which is giving way to life once more; he follows beneath the starlit sky barren of blue or green moons the sound, the song, the voice, an enthralled sleepwalker chasing desperately after a lucid dream he knows cannot be and yet so desperately wants to find, a spellbound seaman bewitched by a cannibal siren's serenade dragging his ship against the jagged cliffs upon which the object of his desire perches with monstrous arms outstretched so lovingly towards him.

He chases after the sound, the song, the voice: he could swear it's the same, the same deep and comforting sound upon whom he once laid his hand on to call 'friend'; he could swear it's the same, so sweet and so heartbroken, and his throat twists tight into a knot as he knows he will not see what he wants, yet he wants so badly.

He chases after the sound, the song, the voice: it splits but does not shatter. Like the hairs of a braid its pieces join together, tangle gently, form a harmony that no mouth can replicate.

He stops.

He looks.

One night, when all is over, Ackar watches and listens.

He knows them, he recognizes them: the twelve of them arranged in two concentric circles, only six of them singing, only six of them silent, their language so far beyond what his anatomy could comprehend or hope to produce, and yet he understands.

He understands from the inner circle's tight fists, their shaking shoulders, their shuddering chests as they struggle to breathe. He understands from the outer circle's solemn pronounciation, the anguish in their shining eyes, their longing and trembling voices.

He understands and hushes, and listens to their mourning song.

One night, when all is over, the Toa Mata mourn who they were fated to protect and instead failed.

One night, when all is over, the Toa Mahri mourn who they could not hold back from the choice of fate.

One night, when all is over, Toa Takanuva mourns all who he will never accept he could not die in the stead of.

Six voices raise, six lights like an aurora across the sky - two figures, mighty and wise and yet so powerless, dancing in their dirge with bodies composed of mourning songs harmonizing together - warriors burying a king, a peer, a friend, a stranger. Six more join, louder to the point of wailing, no composure, burning stars bursting as violently as their destructive end allows, children crying inconsolable the death of a hero, a peer, a friend, a sibling.

The Toa howl like wild hounds into the empty desert night in which no bloody star shines, in the heartbroken artificial language of their manufactured living people.

One night, when all is over, Ackar looks and listens.

In their twelve voices he hears yet another, at once earth and sky, enormously strong yet as light as the birdsong.

In their thirteen voices he hears Mata Nui.

In their thirteen voices Mata Nui smiles.

He smiles with such infinite love.

One night, when all is over, Ackar whispers: I love you.

One night, when all is over, the Toa scream: I love you.

One night, when all is over, Matoro booms: I love you.

One night, when all is over, Mata Nui smiles: I love you.

Ackar cries.

#bionicle #ackar #toa mata #toa mahri #takanuva #matoro #mata nui #random writing #grief tw #based on the song 'cosmic love' by florence and the machine #watch me apply this song to bionicle in like 6577 different ways mostly platonic #its about the mata and mata nui but also ackar and mata nui but also matoro and the mahri but also takanuva and every character ever #but also about 2015 pohatu and kopaka but also vakama and lhikan but also the metru and metru nui but also the metru and each other but als #the mata and each other but also the mahri and each other but also the metru and the mata/the mata and the mahri/the mahri and the metru #but also mata nui and teridax but also brutaka and axonn but also krahka and the metru but also matoro and mata nui but also the ignika and #matoro but also the rahaga and the mask of light but also the rahaga and teridax but also the rahaga and vakama hordika but also nuju and #whenua but also onewa and krahka but also the av matoran and the mata but also the voya/mahri matoran and fate as a whole but also macku #and hewkii but also the chroniclers and each other but also takua and jaller but also jaller and hahli but also kiina and mata nui but also #berix and kiina but also the makuta and the universe but also the great beings and mata nui but also the great beings and spherus magna #feel free to add onto it honestly #anyways YEA. THIS. TAKE IT.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, abuse, police brutality, hints of ptsd, cursing.

Words: 1957

Chapter four: If only we weren't strangers.

Taglist: @xoxobabe @lavndrluv @whatamidoing89 @theboyrisingfromstardust

There are moments in life that simply cannot be forgotten. When you least expect them, they repeat in your head like a catchy tune. Or at least, that's what good times sound like, like a day with your parents at the park, eating ice cream, laughing and playing, having the sun warm up your skin nicely.

But in moments of peace, my mind wanders over my decisions, entwined in infinite designs of a pattern that forms an image. It's blurry and incomplete, but each thread glows brightly, almost alive.

God knows I made bad decisions, some worse than others, like sneaking out to a party and getting my stubborn ass dragged to the police station was one of the worst, but for the sake of just going. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have drunk, or let myself be carried away by the music, much less let one of the guys make me take a walk to get some air.

Because they didn't process me as a teenager, but as an adult.

An adult who had drunk like never before in her life, a minor, defenseless, with zero reasoning power.

The policeman who handcuffed me didn't read my rights, he just pushed my head into the car and drove to the station. He was suspiciously heavily armed, I must say.

He didn't put me in a cell, it was more of a room with a desk and pictures of a bald white guy with a loving family. I remember that desk well, especially the smooth, cold surface.

The officer just told me to wait quietly, that if I made a single sound he would break my knees, or so I think, I just remember laughing.

The rest is history... medical history.

It's funny how much you can miss after a few drinks, but at least they kept me from remembering what was important. My body and the photographs that the detectives took spoke for themselves.

During my time in the hospital room, a doctor came to me with news, supposedly to improve my mood, he told me that two policemen had entered the hospital with me, one of them blind in one eye and the other with a piece of his ear missing.

He was the typical adult who thought himself young and cool, trying to ease my pain with more or less happy news, something like "You look like crap, but you should see the others, champ!", but I doubt they were starring in their own version of the mummy.

Although of course, it was curious that when I woke up, I was missing several of my acrylic nails. Back then I did what it took to fit in, we've all been there.

My case was left unfinished, for a change. The policemen had no legal repercussions and remained intact in their jobs. It was never made public since I lived in a town in the middle of nowhere, and the detective in charge just gave me a taser in case it happens again.

I fucking hate the system.

My dad went crazy for it, who wouldn't be? That led him to call an old friend who had recently made a name for himself in the big city, in a political position.

I thought that justice would be done through human means and that the system would finally work, but unfortunately that dinner was the beginning of a terrible decision.

It was also the last time that Norman Osborn sat at our table looking completely human.

From that experience I was left with an omen, a voice, that screamed heartbreaking pleas for me to get away from the police, especially if it was V.E.N.O.M.

It has me sweating cold most of my nights.

That night I listened to it again and like an instinct I jumped out of my seat and started running. I spotted the emergency exit, I didn't think twice, I kicked it and ran in the opposite direction of the blue and red glow.

But it was as if it was getting louder, ferocious voices were yelling at me to stop, that I was under arrest, I was not going to let them take me away again, ever, over my corpse.

The burning tires, the smell of gasoline, everything led me to that night. I felt my heart in my ears, from the tears I could hardly see where I was going, and I only knew that I was moving through the cold air hitting my face, I could no longer feel my legs or my body in general. I just needed to run away.

The only time I stopped was when something grabbed me by the waist and stuck my back to his chest, looking up I realized it was Spider-punk. He lifted his finger to where I figured his mouth was, signaling for me to be quiet, but between my agitated hyperventilation, I just couldn't.

"I'm here, I won't let 'em take you" he whispered, getting a tigher hold of my body. A warm feeling grounded me a little when he hugged me, the rest of my body was so cold, I yearned for more warmth.

A loud bang resonated though the air, before the police sirens started to fade in the distance. We stayed a few minutes like that, even long after the silence settled among city's normal noise.

"They're gone now" he patted my head slightly, reassuring me. It felt nice to be held again, to feel safe for a minute.

"Looks like I owe you that kiss, huh?" I rolled my eyes, it's true that the danger was far away now, but it wasn't the right time to joke around.

"For all wrong reasons" I wanted to move, but I guess I took it too far with the escape run, it felt as if my feet were asleep. It was like the cold air built stalactites on the insides of my lungs, every breath brought a painful pang on my side.

"I don't mind settling that, but maybe I should leave you an excuse" he smiled, using my own words, "Perhaps you should".

Stepping a few times seemed to make the trick, I could feel my feet again, but the burning sensation in my chest remained, so I just walked at an old lady's speed.

"I get it, you were scared, the adrenaline is wearin' off, but you don't have to be so cold" he kept himself close, no quite beside me, but close.

I didn't respond to any of his callings, honestly I was far too tired and fed up with myself to handle anything external, except than silence, which was the last thing following me.

"Hey, 's goin on?" He stopped me by grabbing my arm, not making any pressure on it, he just hooked his hand on my elbow and stopped walking, making me almost lose my balance and curse under my breath.

"Fuck sake, why are you so fixated on the kiss thing? It was a joke, I thought I would never see you again, so it didn't mattered what I said", janking away from his hand, I managed to regain my posture and my walk.

"Well, it did to me" he muttered.

"I'm sorry, picture this for a fucking second. Normal female citizen about to be beaten up by a corrupt cop gets saved by a random dude with superpowers, among them abnormal strength. Then gets dropped off at her apartment, and the creep expects a kiss, so she jokes as to not make the mutant mad, and he keeps being flirty and pushy about the damn thing!" I lost my breath at the last sentence, and it broke me to realize how much it really hit me.

Perhaps I was being too hard on him, but pushing the issue in the first place, and in a situation of extreme stress was kind of the last drop.

"Now I was chased by cops, my heart is in the back of my mouth as well as the pie and my lunch, I'm tired, it's been a long fucking day, and guess what, the stranger keeps being pushy about a fucking kiss" then I went silent, having almost nothing else on my chest to vomit at all. Perhaps it wasn't how I wanted to say it, but I had a limit, and I couldn't find another way to draw it.

He backed up a little, raising his open palms to his chest level, "Hey, 'm sorry, I was just joking around" His voice was low and apologetic, it was like his presence shrunk from the tall and intimidating Spider-Punk, to just a guy that realized he fucked up.

I took a big breath, the burning sensation calming down a little, "Look I'm sorry, I have a bad history with cops, and men in general, the stress is all over me...I should've minded my words" down the weather was an understatement of my mood.

He hesitated, but in a slow motion, very carefully, he brushed a strand of lose hair off my face, brushing my cheek sweetly along the way.

"Forgive me luv, I pushed it" I nodded, his hand lingered on my cheek for a couple more seconds before withdrawing his touch, leaving me with a fluttery sensation.

He patted his jacket for a second before pulling a wrinkled piece of paper, which he handed to me, "Y'know, you can call this number, he's always around, 's a good pal o' mine, he'll help you if you need it" it had a phone number and a name that seemed to be a joke by now.

"Hobie Brown, the guitarrist? Met him already" he turned around to see me, "Really?" It was as if I could see his eyebrows rising.

"He pulled me out of the crowd mid anxiety attack, we didn't spoke much, but I apreciated it" he was so considerate for that, and I don't think I ever thank him for it.

"Intrestin', what do you think of him? First impresions only" I was taken aback by his question, but I didn't minded much, "He seemed nice, intimidating and surreal, but nice. My friend and her boyfriend supposedly set us up in order to date, but I don't see it happening" more like a failed ambush by cupid.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know, I guess...I guess we're too different, we don't even like the same music, and he's so..." so handsome but too much at this moment,

"So?"

"Rebel, he seems like trouble"

"What's life without a lil' trouble?"

"Are you also trying to set me up with that friend of yours? He can't be that dreamy, besides I don't know if I'm ready to jump in a relationship just yet"

"I understand"

He opened his arm to me, I thought he was going to swing us back to my place. Instead, he hugged me, his arm circulated my waist, and the other caressed my hair, "May I?" I looked up, his face was only inches from mine, "Fine, just do it" He chucked while using a finger to make me face the alley, then I felt his lips on my cheek.

When I turned to face him, his mask was fully covering his face, got to say I was a little disappointed. "We're settled then?" He chuckled again, "On my end only, can't wait for your kiss" this dude was making me crazy, "You're insufferable" this time he did wrap me with his arms and took off, "Indeed darling" was the last thing he did before dropping me off back at my place and then leaving again.

Funny, I found the crisps he promised right on my bed when I came back.

#hobie x reader #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #hobie brown smut #hobie smut #hobie spiderverse #atsv hobie #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #spiderman

[arathain]

Gift of Oblivion

Five thousand, four hundred, and fifty-three

The Mason watched from the Perch's unfinished tower as the little light flittered around the great stone bridge, gradually creating a perfect facsimile of ruination. In the afternoon light, the arches of the bridge cast shadows onto the walkway proper, leading up to the great hole, an artificial equivalent of Bonesburrow's natural location, that was Luxintrus's home. The Mason's old heart, ever more a cage than container, sank once more as they looked at the black mist that enveloped their very hands and face, pain welling as the eternal innocence below gathered yet another bucket of river water. As it should. Standing up, the Mason went back to their work, further erecting the decorational tower to overlook their grave's surroundings.

'Perhaps, one day, another will give them the love in kind they so deserve.' A cold murmur escaped the lifeless lips.

Between three thousand five hundred and three thousand eight hundred and fifteen

The lonely shadow looked over at the sleeping child, night falling on the lifeless lands around them. It has been months since the last incident - while their memory took a toll each time, it was an understandable price for the mind to take. Putting away the wooden training swords, the Mason tidied the little light's drab blankets, and dimmed the lantern that lit up the cliffside cave. Looking at the stars above, the all-too-old yet all-too-young idiot sage was too tired to pray for forgiveness, especially given knowing none would grant it. No, it was the Mason's burden, and theirs alone, to leave their voice, those hues that once illuminated their life so, behind. He looked over once more, at the tiny, radiant being.

'Do you see who I want to be for you, or who I am?'

The Mason scoffed.

'As if you wouldn't run away the second you found out. As you should.'

The Mason looked at their lifeless hands, as if waiting for the first cracks to show in the brickwork.

Twelve-Eight-Elevens

The Mason briefly panicked as the fire under the makeshift metal bowl roared, quickly raising the pot so as not overcook the ingredients. The makeshift 'house', made of great, perfect blocks of stone, contained the covered wound and the woundless light, protecting them from the wind and rain outside. Turning from the campfire, they turned to look at little Lux, rummaging through their belongings. A mixture of tired and cautious words exit their mouth.

'What are you looking for?'

Luxintrus looked back at him, an innocent expression on their face.

'Just looking through your stuff, mister.' She raised a cold, volcanic-glass knife, the Mason's eyes widening, if they could. 'I found this thing in your bags, what do-'

She suddenly stopped, her eyes slowly widening as the Mason approached, defeatedly. The little light screamed and bent over, staring at the approaching figure in overwhelming fear. The Mason grabbed the fleeing moth, taking the knife out of their hand. Before they could scream again, the knife stabbed firmly, once, extinguishing the little light, who would awaken in an hour or two, memoryless. Crushing the knife in their palm, the Mason went back to the stew.

'Three days.'

The Mason sat, alone, wandering in agony through the cold depths of their own existence. As they should.

Zero

The Wheel-Bearer entered the room, white fire burning as their comrades descended onto the town. Quickly evading the fumbled attack of their opponent, they pierced them through the chest with their stone greatsword, and then used it to stab the other, charging at them with a knife. Sword plunging through the ground, thousands of spikes pierced the two lifeless, but soon-to-live bodies, dragging them into the ground for an eternity of imprisonment, until the cold flames consume them all. Going further into the house, the Mason extracted another sword out of the stone ground as a small child approached them. Puzzled, the fool sage paused.

The little light beamed a smile at the murderer in front, both hands extending a cloth doll, vaguely resembling a wizard. They were blissfully unaware of the two dead in the room next door, or the blood on the Mason's hands, embracing the figure in front of them with earnest, blind love.

After a second, an hour, a century, the Mason fell to their knees, legs giving in under the burden of the Wheel. Screaming, they stabbed their sword into their head, black liquid flowing out and enveloping their body. As the child walked forward, it saw behind the crouched, ink-black mess, and the twin figure that slowly sunk into the earth before them. Eyes widening, they looked back at the inky figure that moments ago was but yet another friend, their fading hair now turned completely white, just as the fires that crept along the floor. Before they could react, however, the tiny being was snatched by the bitter, inky shadow, passing out from shock as the dark figure leapt from street to street, disappearing into the fiery night. As he should.

Five thousand, four hundred, and fifty-four

The shackled hands close upon the diary, returning the article back to the shelf it rightfully belongs to. A sharp, roiling sneer forms upon the dark, transparent face, savouring the tranquility of it all. 'Well, or so the stories say.'

#content smp #arathain #mouthpiece the fettered #take that masonheads

[dearbraus]

On the Phoenix' Perch | Prologue.

D. Ragnvindr.

General Series Warnings: 18+ only minors dni, gn afab reader, historical au, canonical character death, parental loss, grief, angst, familial bonding, ragbros, courtship, class differences, some references to canon typical gender stereotypes, slow burn, eventual smut, several minor side ships, unfinished multi-chapter fic.

Wc. 2.0k

❝For the first time in the five years following his fathers' death, Diluc Ragnvindr returns home. After the terrible affair that had been his seventeenth birthday, Diluc re-enters society and claims his rightful place as the head of his family. Bound by duty and haunted by the ghost of his father, Diluc strives to uphold the Ragnvindr legacy while also navigating the dreaded social season. Vowing to find love and continue the Ragnvindr line, Diluc chases the coattails of the man he thinks his father wished for him to become.

Failed love affairs and blunders drive him right back out of society, but in retracing the footsteps of another lifetime, Diluc might just find what he is looking for❞

[See future updates on ao3 @ dearbraus]

The day Viscount Ragnvindr died was not meant to be a tragic one.

Diluc, the young master and heir to the Ragnvindr clan had just turned seventeen. Though still cherubic and shrouded in the essence of boyhood, Diluc had stepped into society that day. Celebrations of grandeur crept around the corner with each passing day until April thirtieth had finally arrived after an arduous winter, he couldn’t wait to finally relish in the frivolities and luxuries his father saved only for the most special of occasions.

His younger brother, Kaeya had been so excited too. He could hardly sleep and rose before the sun to wish Diluc the happiest of days. Kaeya loved parties, the theatricality of it all but he was only fifteen, still too young to spend more than a few precious moments soaking up the festivities before Adelinde, their governess, helped him to bed. That day though, he was allowed to dance to his heart's content and sip on sweet lemonade until his tongue grew tart. 

It was all the two boys could have ever wanted, and their father, Crepus could feel his heart swell thrice its size, adoration and pride filling every fibre of his being. There truly could never be a father quite so proud of his sons in all of Dulcis, so overwrought with love that he’d pluck the sun, the moon, and all of the stars in the sky if they so wished for it.

How unfortunate it was that as the hours bleed late into the night that tragedy would befall the Ragnvindr family. In the span of a few short minutes, Diluc and Kaeya’s world went from that of a dream to a nightmare.

A chill drifted into the ballroom, ice biting through the warmth that collected amongst the throngs of bodies spinning around the room in a waltz. Diluc, ever the dutiful son, slipped between cheerful embraces in search of the miscreant so his father wouldn’t have to but all he found was broken glass and his father's crumpled figure. Silky strands of hair spun by scarlet lay splayed across the carpet, dampened by streaks of metallic crimson. It stained Diluc’s shirt, the new one the modiste embroider as a gift to the family, and seeped into the cream-coloured flowers of his mother's favourite carpet as Diluc gathered Crepus into his arms.

Diluc didn’t realise he had screamed until others came rushing in, a stampede of prying busybodies who traded gossip like children traded marbles. His father's blood bubbled from the gaping wound that tore through his chest, his hands not enough to quell the bleeding no matter how he tried. Tears hot and angry stung his eyes, a frustrated cry clawing at his throat, fervently willing Diluc to feel the anguish that had struck him. But, Diluc felt nothing, too numbed with panic to do anything other than compress the wound, until Kaeya’s desperate plea reached his ears.

It was caught between a haggard breath and a flurry of sniffles, hardly coherent for anyone but Diluc.

He doesn’t remember much from that night, but Diluc remembers how raw his chest felt when he barked out an order for Kaeya, willing him to stay back and close his eyes. Kaeya didn’t need to watch another father die. He had already lost too much at such a young age, his heart would break. Diluc could not bear the thought of it.

That night, minutes before the clock struck midnight, Crepus took his last breath. His two sons' names lingered on his tongue as the light faded from his eyes— his dying breath lost on the eager ears which desperately sought out those last few words.

Diluc was gone the morning after Crepus had been laid to rest, the only evidence of his departure was an empty armoire and Crepus’ timepiece having gone missing. His bedroom in the Aquilae Estate had been largely untouched, to the naked eye it’d have seemed like an ordinary living quarter but the life that had once occupied had been swiftly snuffed out and the servants knew it the moment they had gone to refresh his linens. The young master had deserted his newly acquired postage, swiftly slipping into obscurity.

He was meant to attend the Akademiya, Alicante’s most prestigious post-secondary school, come fall. Elzer, Crepus’ steward, contacted the institute every few weeks in the hopes of hearing any news in regards to Diluc’s welfare but no matter how often the man sent word, he never learned anything more of his status. Until he was slated to begin classes and a notice of prolonged absence was sent to the estate, along with a hefty fine for overdue tuition fees– Kaeya who was still but a boy had to foot the bill now that he had assumed the position of head of the Raginvindr clan. There was no amount of money or tutors or governesses that could have prepared him for losing an entire family for the second time.

Even with Elzer’s guiding hand, Kaeya’s nimble knees buckled beneath the weight of aristocracy. At nights when he felt lost and that familiar feeling of loneliness began to creep in with the self-doubt, all Kaeya could find himself wishing for was his big brother. In his eyes, he knew everything; Diluc was the smartest person Kaeya had ever met, even smarter than their father. But, Diluc was gone. He’d disappeared faster than the moon and the stars did when morning sat on the horizon, though he never reappeared when evening came as they did.

When Diluc did return, Kaeya was nearly a man grown.

Though, society with all its barbs did not see it that way.

Kaeya had been a man since the mere age of fifteen and now, at twenty he was everything that Diluc should have been. College-educated, knowledgeable about the Ragnvindr business, and ready for marriage. Diluc was none of those things, he was no more grown than he had been at eighteen though now he sported reddish stubble on his jaw, his features weathered from whatever travels he embarked on. He looked every bit the man Crepus had been at his age, a ghost occupying a fleshy body. It terrified the staff when he returned one winter's night. The sun had long since been laid to rest and snow fell from the sky in big white clumps. Diluc appeared on the veranda of the Aquilae Estate with nothing but the singular case he had taken within him so long ago.

Anyone could have mistaken him for his father.

But, Crepus too had long since laid to rest and the young master was all that remained of him. The plains of Diluc’s face were but a map of their late master, a mirror image that forced a bleak reminder into their hearts when he stepped through his childhood home for the first time in five years. A stranger now, no longer the joyful young man they knew him to be. He wandered the halls like a well-worn memory that had begun to fray at the edges. Whatever sadness was felt by the servants, was swallowed by a far greater melancholy that tugged at Diluc’s heartstrings like a long-lost melody.

They tugged at Kaeya’s too.

For he too was a stranger in the eyes of a man who was once his brother.

He wore the face of familiarity well, but when Diluc gazed upon his features, ones that he once knew so well, neither man could feel anything but estranged.

Estranged by distance, time, and loss.

It all hung in the air between them, unspoken, neither willing to be the first to bare his soul or tear open the newly healed wounds that throbbed with each passing second.

It would hurt too much, to hash out the feelings both had worked so diligently to bury deep within their souls. They harboured two lifetimes worth of sadness and heartache, and somehow it would hurt even more.

Diluc longed too, though. He longed to pour his heart and every fibre of his being before his brother. To speak the words that he should have long ago, they sat heavily on his chest and danced upon the tip of his tongue, taunting him as his throat swallowed itself up until he choked on his guilt. That’s what kept him truly silent, the guilt of it all. Diluc was selfish, that much he had accepted but to speak it into the air and allow it to settle, he could never do. To admit it, was to admit that he was everything his father had not raised him to be, and to be a disappointment to Crepus was all that he had feared.

So, brothers turned to strangers.

One silent, a frown permanently etched onto his once cherubic features; the other boisterous, he filled the gaps of silence with well-crafted paragraphs that spoke too much but revealed far too little.

It was strangely befitting for the brothers to play such a balancing act. Two sides of the same coin, aching to be melted and returned to the earth once more. 

As days turned into weeks, and then months into years, no warmth had yet to fill the hearth of the place they called home. A layer of frost prickled their skin and kept their feet pressed firmly in place so they remained five feet apart, always. Diluc would muse to himself that it was better to keep the distance because the grief might hurt less in the end. How sweet, naiveté could be 

It was a tragedy to see all that Kaeya had lost in a matter of minutes.

The relief that should have filled him the moment he saw his brother's face once more did not fill him, instead, it was dread. Dulcis, like all of Alicante, was built around the egos of eldest sons. They may as well have put all the stars and the moon into the night skies with how they were cradled like young gods, always deserving, forever in want. It mattered nought that Kaeya is the son who stayed and strived to carry his father's legacy upon his narrow shoulders despite being no less of an unknowledgeable boy than he had been the night before Crepus died. He knew little of the family business, as a second son there was no need for him to learn more than how to assist his brother's pursuits. A lifetime of lessons was compressed into mere months and as years with no family became more familiar than it was strange, all that Kaeya had built for himself, for the Ragnvindr name, was to be ripped from between his bare fingers.

Diluc was home. 

The title of Viscount Ragnvindr was his, Kaeya was simply keeping it warm for the day that Diluc finally felt strong enough to bear the burden that was noble society.

It would have been cruel of Kaeya to resent Diluc for returning home. He spent countless, sleepless nights praying to whomever would listen, to return Diluc home safely, or even for a letter detailing his wellbeing. For years, Kaeya wished for nothing more than to see his brother again, but when he stood before him in an ill-fitting wool coat, Kaeya wished that no one had listened.

Kaeya knew what it made him, an awful brother and an even worse person– but, was it fair? If you’d ask Kaeya while he lay spread bare, chest heaved and sweat dabbled he’d confess that he did not think it was. As much as he loved Diluc, the closet remnant of his own flesh and blood, why should he be so entitled to a title he never longed for? Kaeya did, he spent many balmy summer days dreaming of when the King or Queen would be so gracious as to bestow a title to him. 

Lord Alberich sounded divine, far better than sir.

If Kaeya had been a worse man he may have fought it. His fathers raised him to be good and kind. Kaeya could never hurt Diluc, he could not bare for him to feel as hollow as he did. It was the respectable thing to do, to step down as Viscount and shepherd Diluc into society and into the Ragnvindr clan. 

It’s what Crepus would have wanted.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc ragnvindr smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader