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#like i didn’t know what i was getting into but also it was still familiar enough to be comforting
hbyrde36 · 2 days
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STWG Daily Prompt 04/28/24
as chosen by our own @penny00dreadful
Fairytale✨
He was never going to find her.
Steve sighed heavily, letting his lunch tray drop to the table as he plopped down into his seat next to Nancy and Jonathan, the spot he’d been occupying ever since he’d had some sense knocked into him and dumped Tommy and Carol as friends for good. 
He’d gotten a lot of funny looks for that move, not only because he’d nuked his popularity along with his friendships, but because Nancy had dumped him for Jonathan, or so the rumor mill said, and yet here he was beside them. The truth was that their uncoupling had been a mutual decision, they just didn’t care enough to correct the narrative. 
But, back to Steve’s lament. 
It’d been almost a week since he saw her, the mystery girl that he’d spent almost the entire Halloween Ball with. They hadn’t spoken at all, the music had been too loud for that, but they’d stuck close to each other all night, danced, shared a few laughs as they pointed out their classmates' costumes–both good and bad– and shared a brief, but earth shattering kiss in a dark corner of the gym.
Now normally, Steve wouldn’t have been caught dead at one of the school’s dances, but his high school career was rapidly coming to a close, and honestly he was just trying to get himself out there, make some better memories before he was forced to grow up and enter the adult world.
Also… Nancy and Jonathan had made him.
Then they’d ditched him to go make out in the darkroom, but that was fine, It’d all been worth it to meet—her.
Steve only stepped away for a moment to get them a couple drinks, but when he returned to their spot by the bleachers, she was gone, the only evidence that she’d ever been there at all was a ring left behind on the floor. He picked it up, remembering how she’d fiddled with them a lot, her many rings, and must have dropped this one without realizing. 
He pocketed it, knowing it would be the key to finding her again.
Because, and this was his dilemma, on top of not knowing his mystery girl’s name, he also had no idea what she really looked like. While his Indiana Jones costume had left no question as to his own identity, she’d been dressed as a mummy, wrapped up in layers of gauzy fabric, only showing off her long dark curly hair, the biggest most gorgeous brown eyes he’d ever seen, and perfect pink pouty lips.
After spending the last several days combing the school, asking every brunette he came across if the ring was hers—to no avail—Steve had all but given up, assuming the girl had been someone’s friend or cousin visiting from out of town.
“What’s all this?” Steve asked, finally noticing the stack of photos Jonathan had spread out on the table around them. 
Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich, answering with his mouth still half full. “group shots of all the clubs for the yearbook, I just got them developed.”
Steve pushed his own lunch away, not hungry, and pulled a few of the pictures closer to him. He wasn’t really looking, looking, there wouldn’t be anyone in those pictures he hadn’t already seem roaming the halls, or so he thought. Then he spotted a familiar piece of jewelry on the finger of someone entirely unexpected. 
Eddie Munson, head of the Hellfire Club. 
He reached into his pocket and pulled the ring out, keeping it hidden under the table as he looked between it and the one in the photo. Same band, same stone, same black nail polish on the hand’s fingers too.
Dark curly hair, check. 
Big beautiful brown eyes, check. 
Soft pouty pink lips, double check.
Okay, so, the mystery girl wasn’t a girl at all. It explained why he’d had so much trouble finding her at least.
Steve sat with that fact throughout the rest of the lunch period, and by the time the bell rang had decided that it didn’t change a thing. He wasn’t freaked out that he’d kissed a boy, he didn’t even care that it was Munson, certified freak and D&D nerd. He was a little embarrassed that he’d assumed his special someone was a girl just because he had long hair and pretty eyes, but moving past that—
Now Steve just had to woo his man.
“Hey, Munson?” Steve called out as he jogged down the hallway, approaching the other boy from behind just as he was closing his locker. 
Eddie startled, his eyes going wide as he turned to see who had snuck up on him, but recovered quickly.
“Steeeeeeeve Harrington, what can I do for his former-royal-highness?”
Steve stepped in close, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them before he took Eddie’s hand, gently turning it over, and placed the ring in the center of his palm.  
“I think you dropped this.”
Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers
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rebelliousstories · 20 hours
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Toxic as Rads
Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader
Fandom: Fallout
Request: Yes by @silverose365
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Strong Language, Suggestive Themes
Word Count: 1,307
Main Masterlist: Here
Fallout Masterlist: Here
Summary: They had not been alright for a long time. They would breakup, and then make up. A vicious cycle with no foreseeable end.
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“Damnit Coop! I am so sick and tired of running in these damn circles.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be chasin’ your own bullshit.”
This had been going on for hours now. The couple had holed up in an abandoned facility that was still somehow standing after all the years, and bombs. Neither one could remember what this argument was about this time, but that is how they worked. They would fight. They would make up. And they would do it all again the next day.
It did not used to be like this though. They used to be happy, and in love.
~
“Listen, I just need someone to show me the ropes. I was thrown out here and I don’t wanna die.” A feminine voice pleaded with a cowboy that was busy walking away.
“Don’t do charity cases, darlin’. Not even if they’re cute like you, Vaultie.” His voice was growing more and more distant.
“Hey! Ghoul, you want this back?” Turning back around, Cooper found that she was holding a gun, and a box of chems. Patting himself down, he found that he was missing one of his guns, and his box of chems. He marched right up to the girl with a low growl.
“Gimme that, little girl. You don’t know what that’s gonna do.” He tried to get his effects back, but what unsuccessful. Cooper tried again, and finally got them back, but she just swiped his hat off of his head while his hands were full.
“Listen here, I don’t do no damn charity cases.” The Ghoul grabbed his hat back once he had stashed his gun and chems.
“Please. I’m really good at stealing. I can get you anything you want.” She begged once more, looking close to getting on her knees.
“Anything I want?” He pressed, watching in amusement as her head nodded up and down fast.
“Alright, Vaultie. Let’s see what you’re made of.” He turned on his heel and left, smirking as the vault dweller was hot on them to follow.
~
“Coop, I am tired of this shit. Can you just trust me to do a job, or do fuckin’ anything?” She screamed, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Well then maybe you should make it easy and go. Not like I expected a damn vault dweller to stay around me like a lost puppy.” He thought to himself, but did not realize that he had actually said it aloud. Cooper watched as the horror morphed into melancholy on her face. With her face, he finally realized his mistake.
“Darlin’, now I didn’t mean that. Come here.” Cooper tried to gather her in his arms, but she slipped out faster than him. She ran around the room and collected her items that were strewn about, trying to get them on faster than Cooper could get to her.
“Sweetheart, you know that’s not what I meant. I was just upset. Please let’s talk this through. No need to do anything rash.” But she had bolted out the front door before he ever got there, and ran into the night. Howard tried to follow her, but there was a reason she was good at stealing; she was also amazing at not being found. Looking out into the night sky, Cooper screamed to the heavens, although he knew no one would hear his call of despair. Retreating back into the building, he threw, kicked, and hit anything he could get his hands on. Once his rage had been exhausted, Cooper made sure he had all of his gear with him, before he set out into the night.
By day three, he was pissed. Cooper should be proud; he had trained her on how to survive in the Wasteland and avoid detection. But this was him, using his own tracking skills to track down on someone he had personally trained. The fact that she was staying a step a head was impressive and infuriating. He had followed her near a settlement; a very familiar settlement. This was the same town that he had gotten her from all those years ago. It was a little more rundown, but the structures still stood as strong as they could.
“God damnit woman.” Cooper knelt down to collect a familiar pouch that held a vintage camera with a little bit of film left. They had found it together their first year traveling together and she took every opportunity to get pictures together. He knew the negatives on that film were all of him, or of them together. Why she dropped it, he did not know. But it could not have been a good reason. Strapping it into his own pouch on his saddle bag, Cooper made his way around the town. People moved out of his way as he moved, but he could not find her there. If she came all the way back here, why was she still avoiding him?
That is when a thought came into his head. Leaving the designated town, Howard stalked along the sides, and found a house on the outskirts. This house had remained abandoned the entire time he had been coming here for some reason or another. He did not particularly care to remember why it remained empty. There was a shift of fabric that he could hear from the front door. Making his way into the house, Cooper heard the soft sniffles and quiet cries of his woman as he grew closer and closer to the bedroom.
The door was halfway open, which meant he could not have snuck up on her even if he wanted to. And the sight inside made his heart hurt. She was curled up on the bed with blankets and pillows. It looked more like a nest than a bed, but she found herself in the middle of it all.
“Go away.” Her voice was hoarse as it tried to spit out and sound meaner than she actually sounded.
“Now, I think you don’t really want that darlin’.” Cooper replied, placing his hat on the bedpost at the foot of the bed/nest situation.
“You don’t know what I want. Besides, I’m just some stupid vault dweller who follows you around like a lost puppy. Figured you’d be having a damn party with me gone.” Turning further and further away, the scratch to her voice almost made it like a growl. Howard shrugged off his duster and threw the rest of his guns, belts, and bags into a chair in the corner before encroaching upon her space. She tried to push him off, but he kept wrapping his arms around her to pull her into his chest.
“I’m sorry for what I said, darlin’. Didn’t mean what I said.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, and squeezed her closer while her arms dropped in defeat.
“I just don’t understand why you would say that if you didn’t mean it.” She lamented.
“Was just angry darlin’. Not at you. Just- we’ve been fightin’ a lot. We never used to and it seems every day we’re findin’ somethin’ to get pissed off about.” He replied, settling into the comfortable bed.
“I know. ‘M sorry for running. Just didn’t know how to deal with it all.” Rolling over, she tucked her face into Cooper’s chest and smushed them closer together.
“No need to apologize sweetheart,” came his response. He pressed another kiss, this time to her forehead, and started to stroke her hair.
“Oughta redden your ass though. Makin’ me chase you all over this damn desert.” Cooper teased, his gloved hand reaching down to give her rear a teasing squeeze.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ghoul.” She teased back, snuggling in closer. They were not perfect, that was for certain. But from that point forward, they would be doing better.
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sixosix · 2 days
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5k event request :P
Kazuha, light stick, and fluff please
a/n hi anon! when i saw light stick, i instantly interpreted it as those kpop light sticks,, im not sure if u meant something else like those glow sticks, so i am hoping this was what u meant HAHA
wc 700, idol!kazuha/fan!reader, im sure u guys have heard of the 6REEZE group somewhere, meet-cute; disclaimer i only know how auction works from my classmates roleplaying them so ignore accuracies for fic’s sake. bless.
5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST
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Kazuha, to be frank, felt a little embarrassed.
His features stood out too much, his friends told him. To go out and enjoy the fresh air of the day, he had to not enjoy the fresh air with a face mask, conceal his red streak of hair by clipping it back and burying it under a cap, and wear green-tinted sunglasses (also to disguise the red of his eyes) that he was struggling to get used to.
In his defense, His friends weren’t any better. Aether’s braid could be recognized with only that, Venti’s glowing braids weren’t any better, Heizou’s shade of hair and green eyes would stand out—if not his unique voice, and everyone knew Xiao even if he were to shave all his hair off. Scaramouche could be salvageable, but one word from his mouth and his fans would fall to their knees—it could be his voice, but it would be the attitude.
Kazuha felt a little too hot with his disguise, but he wanted this, so he would go through with it. He tugged his mask under his nose, relaxing at the scent of the open air. The mall had an open area with trees all over; the leaves fell to the ground, and the wind brushed past. Kazuha couldn’t feel it, having been stuffed under layers, but he was satisfied.
Although it felt embarrassing to be clothed in this disguise, he couldn’t go outside this freely before. He was going to make the most of it.
And then he passed by a stall that had him doing a double take. Kazuha took a few steps back, lighting up with recognition. He couldn’t be mistaken, not with that familiar symbol of Anemo. The stall displayed a light stick of their group, released only a few days ago.
His friends would have a blast if he came back with it, most likely, Kazuha mused. Maybe he could bring it back as a gift.
A hand shot out from the side, blocking his view of the light stick. Kazuha blinked, a little surprised. He followed the arm's stretch and came face-to-face with an angry stranger.
“Hey, you!” you said. Kazuha felt like he needed to stand straighter at the tone. “I had my eye on this one first, ‘kay? Whatever number you have in mind—keep it. I finally get my hands on one of these; I’m not letting it go!”
“Oh, this was an auction?” he asked curiously. The stall didn’t seem to be being run by anyone at the moment, and no one else was there.
“Well, no,” you sniffed, “but I would win. I already told the seller I called dibs on this one—wait until she gets back.”
Charmed, Kazuha smiled. “Two thousand.”
“Three.”
“Three-thousand, five hundred?”
“Five-thousand, three hundred.”
Kazuha had to wonder: “How much do these usually cost?”
“Five thousand, if you’re lucky. I’ll make it ten thousand, easy. Are you still not backing down?”
Kazuha laughed under his breath. Were you serious? Were you actually willing to drop that much for this? “Alright, I cede. I apologize for attempting to defeat you.”
You grinned, eyes sparkling quite literally as your gaze slid back to the lightstick. You were very pretty. “Yeah, I thought so.” You eyed him curiously; Kazuha suddenly felt a little shy. “Are you a fan as well?”
Kazuha nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from your genuine smile for a few moments. His eyes drifted down to your shirt, which had the same Vision of the lightstick—but there was something else. “You could say that.”
Your shirt had maple leaves swirling around the logo, and Kazuha could recognize it all too well because he was asked to sit down and draw it for their merchandise—something personal for each member. Did Kazuha have the right to suspect what it meant that you were wearing his?
Emboldened, Kazuha gestured at the lightstick. “As a fellow enthusiast, may I extend my offer to cover this purchase?”
You blinked and stuttered. “W-What— You don’t have to! I literally stole it from you!”
“So you confess that you pried it off of me?” Kazuha teased.
“That’s not—Listen—” You stared at him, then got flustered. “Hold on, are you hitting on me?”
“Yes.” He took off his sunglasses and tugged down his mask, flashing a sweet smile that he knew was utterly unfair. Your face bluescreened out of pure shock. Without the mask muffling his voice, it was clear as day. “So, will you let me?”
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comradekatara · 2 hours
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On the topic of Sokka and failure and suicide: I think that it is probably rooted in the possibility that his failures, as a hunter and as a protector, COULD (and maybe did???) lead to deaths in his village. If he failed to bring home food or furs then people died, if HE failed to properly train the toddlers or watch over them properly during training then they could also get hurt or die, or themselves fail to bring home food or keep their people safe (which is to him obviously his fault as their trainer) and HE was the one who was meant to lead and protect and keep everyone safe.... It's so easy to see how that could spiral out into his severe deterioration after real failures during ATLA. Like, he is unique among the early Gaang that he is intimately familiar with the link between his actions and death, whether it's of people he cares about, animals, or eventually enemies. He's so painfully aware of it.
And speculatively, those toddlers would've all been born within a year of the men leaving! Which also means Sokka The Protector and Provider would've had no men (BC he wouldn't believe anyone else, they'd just be trying to make him feel better about being a failure) to reassure him that any pregnancies or newborns who didn't make it WEREN'T his fault and that he DID provide enough to keep mother and babe healthy. Or worse, he actually didn't do a good enough job and it did lead to close calls or difficult pregnancies or deaths. Either scenario would've fucked him up So Deeply.
yeah i talked about sokka’s perfectionist complex recently and also the fact that sokka is very much implied to be a good hunter, so like. yes. the stakes for any kind of failure are very high due to the nature of his responsibilities and what he believes he must excel in. he considers himself a provider and protector above all else. if he fails to provide for others, people starve. if he fails to protect others, people die. to fail to fulfill that role in any way is to be culpable for causing harm. and sokka never once considers whether putting that burden on a 13 year old was kind of unfair, actually, because he’s always been capable of excelling and thus it’s squarely his fault if he falls short in any way. but presumably, he doesn’t fail??
like, we really have no way of knowing, because so much of their childhoods and life before finding aang is framed exclusively from katara’s pov (she’s the narrator), but even what we do see is sokka holding the lantern for katara, sokka and kanna functioning as a unit when making decisions for the village, kanna trusting sokka more and telling katara to listen to her brother, sokka preparing to die a martyr. even the kind of “goofier” stuff, like katara soaking sokka with her “magic water,” or sokka trying to train a bunch of toddlers, or sokka’s watchtower getting destroyed, are all indicative of who sokka is and how he sees the world, in really fascinating ways.
obviously sokka’s reaction to katara waterbending is a complex one that we cannot fully understand when the show begins because we don’t actually know why and how waterbenders were targeted, so it reads as simple disrespect for something sokka doesn’t understand. and maybe it’s also jealousy, because i think literally anyone would be jealous if their little sibling had magic powers and you didn’t. but there’s definitely also fear there, fear that whoever informed the fire nation of there being one last waterbender left is still out there, that katara is still a target. it’s a fear informed by trauma, by sokka’s need to protect katara, to “keep his promise to dad.” it’s never outright spoken (unless you’re live action shein go girl give us nothing katara, of course), but it’s pretty obvious in retrospect.
there’s also the fact that katara is there with him in the first place. there’s never any indication one way or another whether katara and sokka going fishing together is a common occurrence, but i tend towards thinking it’s uncommon simply because sokka seems particularly pissed off by her presence, like she’s disrupting his peace. and i bet kanna is just sitting at home like “maybe i shouldn’t have let katara go fishing…” and then of course she comes home with a ghost and his flying bison, and kanna’s just like “goddammit. i knew this would happen. …..sort of.”
and sokka trying to train a bunch of toddlers seems funny at first, but is actually incredibly tragic, because sokka never actually questions the idea that the notion of childhood innocence does not exist, that from the moment you are born you must be prepared to die. it looks silly because he’s wrong, but it’s also heartbreaking because it’s all he knows. that scene is very explicitly establishing him as a foil to aang, setting up that deeper tension that underpins their relationship. katara immediately aligns herself with aang, recognizes the value of fun and the value of retaining one’s childhood, while sokka is positioned in opposition to this values from the get go. and sokka does eventually come around and embraces the value of fun, but he also embodies the burden (both material and psychological) that aang carries, and he functions as a sort of warning to aang to maintain his values, untouched by war, before it is too late. before aang lets his own burden overtake him and becomes what sokka already is.
and his watchtower is something i think about a lot too. it’s literally his only enrichment in his enclosure… sokka only lets himself practice what he thinks is useful, despite his love for all different forms of art and knowledge. so he can perfectly apply warpaint without so much as a mirror, and he can build a fucking functioning watchtower out of snow, but only because it serves a practical function. like, katara calls it “playing soldier,” because there is something sort of aesthetically childish about sokka building a watchtower out of snow like a glorified snowman and thinking that this makes him some kind of hardened general (we all start somewhere i suppose), but also, he is doing the best he has with the tools at his disposal, and he is in a war, and he is right to constantly be preparing for existential threats to his people, even if it does admittedly make him look kinda pathetic simply because his resources are so limited and he lacks the necessary experience to actually be successful in his mission. but also, that fact in itself is deeply tragic. this is what their once flourishing tribe has been reduced to; this child who thinks himself an adult is the first and last line of defense in their tiny, decimated village.
he thinks his purpose on this planet is so protect his people and his sister from a genocidal empire with basically no support and no resources at his disposal, and then he feels actively guilty when that situation is understandably difficult for him. so he probably always has been a proficient hunter (even as a 13 year old?? maybe he had help, but idk) because his reaction to that kind of failure (to protect & to provide) is so catastrophic during the show whenever it happens (most notably in the boiling rock arc) that there’s no way he has any sort of prior experience with that kind of consequentially devastating failure.
and not for nothing, but i do think the reason katara assumes that he’s fucking around and not doing real work is because unlike katara, he never actually complains about it, doesn’t struggle to do it, and in fact takes pride in it, is even a little smug about it. to the point that katara is like “why do i have to be stuck here doing tedious domestic labor while sokka gets to have fun hunting and fishing???” even though obviously sokka has never had fun a day in his life and deep down katara also clearly knows that.
but like, he really enjoys hunting because it’s the most literal realization of his role as provider. he loves being “the meat guy” because it’s a symbol of how he is able to embody this ideal of manliness through a practice he is actually good at (unlike a lot of other standards of masculinity he otherwise struggles to embody). he likes being the provider, caring for others in concrete, tangible ways, protecting the people he cares about. “oh sokka you really do have a heart,” katara exclaims, meanwhile his heart is and has always been the thing that defines his entire identity at the deepest, most fundamental level: his desire to put other people before himself every time, his need to be needed, the love he has for humanity that is so different from katara’s but in no way less significant. sokka will care for people, or die trying.
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furuyalover · 12 hours
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taking care of him at a party
— ft. atsumu miya
AN: just a lil sum while i work my music event drabbles 🤍 also this was soo fun to write so pls request any other characters i should do this for !
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your roommate was throwing a party in your shared house, and it was fun at first. however your social battery was running kind of low, and you felt like taking a break anyways. “hey im a little beat, but if you need anything i’ll be in my room” you tell your friend and then you make your way to your room.
you lie down on your bed, and decide to maybe take a small nap to help you feel better. but not even 15 minutes into your nap you hear a soft knock on your door. “come in” you groan, as you readjust yourself so that you can sit up and see whoever’s at your door, expecting your roommate needing assistance with something for the party. but to your surprise, your greeting by three familiar faces, one being a very drunk atsumu miya.
being practically held him by his twin brother and good friend suna, the former embarrassingly says “y/n im so sorry for barging in, but is it ok if we let atsumu take a break here? every other room was occupied and your roommate told us to try here” atsumu was smashed, you could tell that he was shitfaced and it was more like osamu & suna who needed the break.
“what? ok sure yeah whatever. just lay him down over there i guess.” too tired to really even refute their request, you instruct the two to carry their drunken friend on the side of your bed opposite of you. this is where you decide it’s probably time for you to turn in for the night.
you leave atsumu to rest on your bed, and head into your bathroom to change, shower, and what not to get ready for bed. by the time you’re done you chuckle to yourself when you see atsumu is still knocked out on your bed. admittedly, you found it kind of cute to see him like this. peacefully asleep, in his natural state, a change of pace from his usual loud and brash personality, it didn’t help that he was in your bed as well. after placing a glass of water and some tylenol and advil on the nightstand next to him, you sit on your side of your bed and start mindlessly scrolling on your phone.
you text your roommate, updating them on the wild situation you found yourself in. “y/n are u fr rn? this is like the perfect chance for u to confess to him hello??” a smile forms on your face after reading that text, “bro what hell no. that’s so awkward 😭” “ur trippin, worst case scenario u can tell him u we’re js drunk” rolling your eyes at that suggestion, you exit your texts and go back to your scrolling.
a few minutes go by and you feel atsumu shifting in your bed, followed by a slight groan. “oh god where am i” he groans as he rolls over, rubbing his eyes, to face this mysterious figure sat beside him.
“well you’re not downstairs getting shitfaced that’s for sure” you snark with a small chuckle, slightly admiring how cute he looks with his messy hair and flushed face. “oh shit! y/n! is this your room? oh my god did we..?” amused by his slight panic you reassured him that nothing happened, “no no don’t worry, you were absolutely plastered so suna and your brother dropped you off here so you could rest. there’s some tylenol next to you, you should really take some”
she’s such an angel wow, he thought to himself as he took the pain relievers you so kindly prepared for him. “god those assholes, sorry you had to deal with that” he quietly, almost embarrassingly apologizes. giggling at his annoyance you assure him it’s fine and that it’s not a big deal. but then the gears start turning in your head a bit, as you start to develop a lil plan to semi-confess to him.
“the party isn’t probably gonna end for another few hours, so if you want you can just crash here if you want. i can just sleep on the couch or something” almost immediately, a grin plasters on atsumus face, and his usually cocky self is back just like that. “i mean that’s rather rude ya know? i wouldn’t want such an angel who had to take care of a drunken asshole to sleep on the couch. you should probably just sleep in your own bed” he grins as he runs his hands through his messy blonde hair, this bitch knows exactly what he’s doing, you think to yourself.
despite a very obvious blush creeping up on your face you respond, “yeah well i’d feel bad if you had to stay on the couch” scoffing, faking offense to your comment “who said anything about me on the couch? plus i heard cuddling is good for hangovers.” OH HOW I HATE HIM. rolling your eyes you playfully act annoyed, but you couldn’t be any happier
“hm well i always wanted to cuddle with that dumbass from the volleyball team who i have a crush on” you retort with a light laugh. now it’s his turn to blush, already flushed from the alcohol he is now redder than before. “when exactly were you planning on tellling this handsome and talented dumbass?” despite the confident demeanor he was definitely screaming on the inside.
“i figured now would be a good time, but who said anything about handsome and talented.” you reply as you side eye him, but he just can’t help but smile right at you. “so we’re definitely cuddling right?” he asks with a heartful, genuine smile. not being able to deny this lover boy’s smile or even him in general, i mean you’ve liked him for months now, you roll your eyes and respond “ok fine i guess whatever, but find some clothes to change into and take a shower” you laugh as you playfully hit him on his shoulder.
“on it.” he gets up heading downstairs to see if any of his friends have extra clothes they can get him, and to of course tell them about his crush on you. “shit finally, it’s about time you told her you liked her, osamu you owe me $10 and some food” “ok fine suna whatever, but you owe me $5 since he did it while he was drunk.” yes these mfs placed bets on you guys confessing to each other.
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reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა
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dark-elf-writes · 1 day
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Master of death Harry at UA who accidentally summons Oboro’s ghost and doesn’t get why Shota and Hizashi are crying but doesn’t say anything as they cry
I read this as MoD Harry as a student doing this which makes this funnier and also more heartbreaking.
Like Harry leaving after the battle and needing to do something different, something that doesn’t involve a castle of ghosts and the memory of blood on his hands and screams in his ears, he ends up, through a letter sent to him at exactly the right moment courtesy of Nezu (and how he managed to get a letter delivered to an unplayable address Harry isn’t sure he wants to know), as the oldest member of 1-A.
He doesn’t really know what to claim as a quirk because his magic is fucked and telling people is illegal but then he summons a ghost (the previous tenant of his apartment who had a heart attack and Merlin he is going to have words with his realtor) literally the night before and decides “Necromancer” is close enough. Besides the dead flock to him now (had they always?) whether he wants them to or not, it’s only fair that he gets something out of it other than a terrible sleep schedule and the world’s first anti-ghost ward outside his bathroom.
And UA has no shortage of ghosts. Students, alumni, and former teachers alike follow Harry’s every step from the moment he enters the gates a day before everyone else (for a meeting with his new teachers to “see where he places due to his unique circumstances” which sounded like kind way to say “we know you have a year four education in non magical subjects”) but one in particular shoos the others away with a smile and whisper of… something herding them off. He doesn’t fully manifest, invisible to everyone but Harry, as he follows his steps.
“Hey, kid, you’re the transfer right?”
If Harry was less used to ghosts he would be a little offended about being called “kid” by someone who looked the same age as him, but Ghosts were frozen as how they were when they died. For better or worse.
At least when around Harry they didn’t show their death wounds. Instead appearing whole and unblemished.
The meeting room was full when Harry entered, the ghost at his shoulder, and he fought the urge to check for exits. He didn’t need a window to get away with his magic, didn’t think any of the people here were strong enough to stop him if he wanted to leave, quirks or no, not since he had collected the hallows and everything changed.
“Er, hello.”
Well, maybe not everything changed.
Several of the teachers smile, one with the most ridiculous hairstyle he has ever seen beaming particularly brightly, but it was Nezu that drew his eye.
Nezu who smiled at him and gestured to where a steaming cup of tea waited at the empty space on the table. “Potter-kun. How lovely it is to meet you in person.��
Harry had barely made it to table when he felt the familiar yank of his power slipping the leash — less common now but always at the worst moments — and a moment later the ghost still following him gasped as color flooded him.
Huh. His hair was blue. Teddy would like that.
The blond teacher stood so quickly their chair flipped behind them followed by two others wide eyed and disbelieving as they stared at the ghost. The ghost who watched them with eyes just as wide, wiggling his fingers and gasping when their eyes followed the movement.
“You can see me?!”
Harry froze, not daring to breathe. Fuck this was bad, but the question was how bad.
Then one of the teachers, the woman who Harry was very careful to not look below her shoulders, sobbed.
Right… this was… not a great way to start a new school. “Traumatize your professors” was usually a term four activity for him not before school had officially started. Still it couldn’t hurt to let them talk for a while. He could always send the ghost away if things went south… probably… maybe… eventually.
Harry sank into his seat and drained his tea in one long swallow. This was going to be along day.
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mysterymeatmunchr · 21 hours
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Barkback Mountain By The MeatMunchr
Authors notes:
3.3k words, one shot, FTM MLM
This is basically my “If Brokeback Mountain was two trans male cowboys fucking raw and nasty in the woods” fantasy. Oh, and also they’re both into pet play.
Content Warnings:
Consensual Fighting/Impact play, Struggling/Struggle Fucking, Blood, Spit, Knives, Cutting, Degradation, Pet Play, Brief light CNC
Character Descriptions:
I didn’t name the characters because I want readers to be able to think of whoever they want, BUT I did picture what they look like to me. You can picture them differently if you would like to.
The Narrator:
FTM, bear, butch, short and stout, broad shouldered, muscular but not toned, beer bellied, full dark thick and curly body hair, full trimmed beard, chest length loose dark curls, wide calloused hands, dark hooded eyes, broad browed, and strong featured.
He wears a black cattleman hat, a dark denim shirt, dark denim pants, brown boots, and a silver bolo tie.
The Lover:
FTM, otter/cub, butch, short, muscular and toned, broad shouldered, full thick dark curly body hair, full overgrown stubble, brow length loose brown curls, brown soft downturned eyes, and soft featured.
He wears a tan cattleman hat, a blue denim shirt, blue denim pants, and tan boots.
————
As I stand in the clearing waiting for him to arrive, I wonder if he’s gotten lost again. I was sure to give him plenty of markers to look out for on the way, and it isn’t all that hard once you reach the creek, but for a cowhand he sure is poor at finding his way. I’ve waited this long to see him again, I’m sure I can wait moments longer until he stumbles upon the clearing. I find a stump to rest on while I wait with my thoughts to keep me company. The excitement and nerves tangle up my insides, but I can manage a stoic front.
It isn’t too long before a rustling comes from the trees and a familiar form appears. A man close to my height, a little more on the slender side compared to my burly stout build and beer fattened stomach, but still stocky enough to keep up with the other cattlemen. Unlike the others, we both hold the same secret. We knew from the day we set eyes on each other we were different from the others. It was an unspoken kinship, something in our eyes that screamed out to each other, ‘I know what you are.’ It wasn’t long before we started having our little… meetings…
As the other man approaches I stand to greet him, “Took you long enough,” His dark unkempt curls are spilling out from under his hat and his blue denim fit him well, starched like a gentleman for a special occasion. “You know I’ve never met a cowhand as directionless as you. It’s damn near shameful.”
“It’s nice to see you too,” he says with a smile.
“I wasn’t lost this time, I saw something a ways back by the creek and stopped for it.”
The man sets down his pack next to mine, then lifts his tan hat up revealing a white handkerchief tied up into a sack, peppered with deep dark stains. He hands me the parcel from atop his head. I untie the knots revealing blackberries bursting with juice.
“Well, this is mighty kind of you, thank you. I apologize for my comments.” I bit into a berry and he did the same, the dark juice pooling between his teeth like a beautiful premonition of what’s to come. “It’s nice to see you too.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me. His brown eyes glowing gold in the tree filtered sunlight.
“Of course I do, the hardest part is deciding whether or not I’m letting you throw the first punch,” I said, trying and failing to wipe a smirk off my face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”
“I’m not,” his tone was serious. “I want this, and this time, I’m gonna win.”
“It’s cute that you think that pretty boy, we’ll see.” I take off my bolo tie and denim shirt, fold up the shirt and place it on top of my pack along with my black cattlemen hat. My partner does similarly and we head to the center of the clearing.
Blow after blow, noses and mouths bloodied, the metallic taste on our teeth fuels something deeply primal and terrifying within us as we spit and growl and scream at each other. The sweat, blood, and dirt on him fills my lungs. The smell is sickeningly sweet. He socks me square in my jaw. I roar before spitting out the blood. ‘Enough,’ I think to myself. I shove the smaller man to the ground, eyes aflame, no longer recognizing the beautiful boy I’ve bloodied, bruised, and beaten. My muscles ache, wrestling him into submission, our bodies woven together in a desperate battle for dominance. I finally pin him down on his back, straddling his hips, gripping both his wrists hard enough to bruise. He’s banging his head into the earth, thrashing his arms and legs, trying and failing to free himself from the heavy strength and weight of me. He howls out a deep, defeated, guttural scream. His teeth bared and snarling, with strings of bloody spit weaving through his hateful mouth.
I smile as he spits on my face. I look him in the eyes smug as I lick his spit off the side of my mouth.
“You’re disgusting,” he hisses through gritted teeth, knowing I’d won, knowing he wants me to dominate him and he hates me for it.
I hold him there still for a moment to take in my work. I need to see it, the hate and lust and defeat. Angry tears well up in his eyes as the blood rushes in and swells up my already leaky tcock.
I crash into his lips devouring him while he lets out little curses between each breath, he breaks my desperation with a bite to my lip. He gives me all the spite in his body until he draws blood. I smile, lip still caught between his teeth, as I grab his jaw digging my fingers into his bruised cheeks to release myself. I’m thankful for it, he just gave me a reason to pull away and strike his face hard with an open hand. I spit on his pitiful, beautiful, beaten face and strike him once more. I lap it up off his cheek along with the blood and dirt like a ravenous dog, unable to stop myself from grinding against his struggling hips. The degradation of him is burning up something hateful and angry and shameful inside me.
I move his wrists into one of my hands, keeping him pinned as I reach for my hunting knife. Savoring the fear in his eyes, I hold the blade to his throat.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” I whisper into his ear.
Keeping him at knife point I get up and hastily kick off my boots and tear off my jeans and drawers. I know I already have him, he’ll be good and stay put for me, but I’m just too impatient, I want to defile him so badly.
I crash back down to the earth to rip off his jeans. I can hear his ragged breaths through the leaves singing in the wind. I slash through his drawers with my knife, before tracing down his stomach with the blunt side of the blade. He knows what’s coming next. I press the tip of my knife into his thigh and drag slowly, his body tenses and he whimpers. The sound sends blood rushing to my pulsing heat. I’ve marked him with another tally, another loss, permanently scarred next to seven previous defeats. I don’t know when this part of the ritual began but I fell in love with how humiliating this is, especially for him, knowing my thigh bears only three marks and his now holds eight. A tear rolls down his soiled cheek as I force open his legs, pinning up one of his thighs before holding my knife back up at his throat. I look into his eyes hazed with fear and lust, without words, I’m commanding him, not asking, yet still he nods his head. It’s more permission than I needed to mount him. Dripping and hungry, I grind my boycunt against his. His defiance and anger is melting into submission, as he begins to match my movements. We rut into each other like dogs in heat.
One of his hands claws into my forearm just barely holding the knife at bay, and the other clutches the forest floor tight as we frot. Our cum soaks the earth beneath us. He desperately grinds his hips into mine, he can’t bite back his moans anymore.
“Please,” he whimpers like a dog, “Please, use your mouth, I need your tongue,” begging through gasps. He’s mine. He knows he’s mine. I dig my nails into the soft, hairy skin of his thighs, and he winces.
“How badly do you want me?” I challenge, my voice deep and rasped with breathlessness, “Show me,” I command.
Slowly his hand releases my forearm, leaving behind bloodied crescent moons and the beginnings of bruises where his nails were once buried. My nails embedded in his thigh follow suit, and I toss away my knife.
“Please,” he whispers, beginning to prop himself up. I nod and allow him to sit up, he brings his face close to mine and kisses me gently, then pulls away. “I want you so badly” he whines.
I feel the heat of his hand radiate down my big hairy stomach as he makes his way towards my swollen heat. He lays his head on my shoulder and I clutch his shaggy brown curls forcefully. A moan escapes his lips. His fingers begin to stroke my throbbing aching cock, and I can feel the cum dripping from my boycunt. I let a moan slip out, and he hesitates.
“Don’t stop, show me how badly you want me, how badly you want me to suck you off,” I say, my breath becoming uneven, “Show me you’re my pet now.”
He glides a finger against my messy hole, tracing back up to my cock rubbing against my throbbing heat in tight circles, pulling back and forth on my foreskin with each stroke. I buck against his fingers, and start to claw deeply into his back. His hand feels so good, I asked for this but I want to draw his blood for reminding me his touch can weaken me. He slides a finger down towards my cunt.
“Enough,” I release him, and pull his hand away from my crotch before he can enter me.
I push him to the forest floor and pry apart his legs, revealing his soaked pulsing tcock and cunt. I can’t hold back anymore. I’m starving for him. I look him in his eyes, and place my hand against his cheek streaked with dirt, blood, sweat, and spit. With lips barely parted, I kiss him, I drink deep the taste of his lips, his spit, his blood. I bite his lip before I move to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, biting, kissing, licking, I take in the soft sweet skin of his neck. I savor its flavor and scent as I leave behind a mark to tell him he’s mine, to tell the world he’s mine. I rip apart his undershirt so I can devour him in his entirety, as I make my way down towards his warm, throbbing boycunt. I want to consume him whole, and stain him with my hunger. My pet yelps and whines with each marking and cries out from each ravenous bite I inflict.
I pin down his thighs as I hover over his tcock. I can feel his heat on my face. I embed my nails into the tender skin of his thighs. My hot breath lands in his dark curly pubic hair. I press my lips against his inner thigh, nipping him lightly, a few warning shots, before biting down hard. He cries out to the treetops as he squirms underneath me, but I hold him down steady. I lick the bite mark and blow cool air over the tender spot, making him shiver. A hot insatiable feeling wells up from deep within my stomach and my cock aches and throbs. Finally, I envelop his cock in my mouth, sucking and stroking his pulsating bundle of nerves with my lips and tongue, drowning in the taste of him as he ruts into my face and clutches fistfuls of my long dark curls.
I release him from my mouth before sucking and teasing the swollen lips of his cunt. I want to taste all of him. My good boy grinds into me, begging for more with his puppy whimpers. I lap up his tcock with long broad strokes before quickening my pace, swirling my tongue around his raging growth. I dip my tongue down plunging into his cunt as he slams down his hips, fucking himself on my tongue. I switch between his cock and cunt, savoring both the taste of him, and the sound of his cries echoing through the forest.
I pull myself up to meet his face, and kiss him. I want him to taste himself on my lips. He looks up at me with his brown puppy eyes, and opens his mouth for me, tongue out, panting like a dog. I spit in his mouth and he takes it, swallowing and sticking his tongue out once more. I cup his face, letting him suck my thumb. I pull out and raise my hand to strike him, he flinches and I laugh. He wears such a sweet humiliated expression.
“How pitiful, be a good boy and wait here for me,” I say, petting his cheek before getting up, “and touch yourself while I’m gone mutt.”
I retrieve and don my prosthetic from my pack, as well as another piece of my leather work, a leather collar and lead. Making my way back to my pet, I take in the sight of him panting and arching his back as he strokes himself, and heat rushes through me. Filtered sunlight speckles his body. ‘My dog has spots,’ I think to myself, chuckling. His legs are open and ready for me. ‘What a pathetic mutt.’
I kneel between his legs, moving away his ‘paw’ and grind my prosthetic on his cock.
“Lift your head and stick out your tongue,” I order, buckling on his collar and lead. “You’re my dog now, my pet, my plaything. Never once were you anything but this.”
I place a finger on his tongue and pull his lead. He needn’t be told, he takes in my finger sucking and moaning, rutting himself on my prosthetic, and coating my finger with spit.
“Stroke yourself.”
I press my finger against the slick entrance of his cunt. I don’t even press in before he’s bucking his hips, fucking himself on my finger and panting. I curl my finger upwards and slowly fuck his hole, still pulling his lead. His hips are rustling the leaves beneath us, moving against my rhythm, trying to get more from me as he strokes himself faster.
“P-pl-please,” he stutters out, “another.” I cover his mouth with my hand, the lead worn around my wrist.
‘Dogs can’t speak.’
I thrust another finger in him, massaging the tender rippled flesh inside, rough and hard. I can feel his muffled moans vibrating under my rough palm. I want to hear him. I remove my hand and glide down his body until I grasp his hip. His cunt tightens on me, pulsating, milking my fingers for all the pleasure his greedy hole can get. He cries out, and I feel his warmth spray out from him onto my stomach and thighs.
“Don’t stop!” he begs, and I tug his lead sharply. He does not command me.
I pull out, spit into my hand, and coat my prosthetic with his cum and my spit. I plunge deep into him and he screams from the stretch. I slam into his cunt thrusting slow and hard, with no rest or reprieve for him to adjust to the size. His eyes roll back into his skull. He’s losing focus. ‘What a stupid dog,’ I think as I strike him with the back of my hand.
“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I growl. His hand speeds up again.
As I tug on his lead with every thrust, breathy moans escape him. I have him hold up one of his legs for me with his free hand, and the wetness spraying from his cunt soaks the harness of my prosthetic, and my stomach. I wipe it from my belly and slap him with it to punish my pet for the mess he’s made. He’s too fucked out to even wince. He moans for me at the impact. I’ve broken in my pet nicely.
The expression on his face, the sound of his cries, the sight of his throbbing swollen cock, the smell and taste of our blood staining my senses, and the base of the prosthetic grinding on my cock with each thrust lights a fire in me. I crash down on him, wrapping my arms under his shoulders and digging my nails into him. The weight of my body is pressed into his as I mercilessly fuck into him. He claws into my back and wraps his legs around my waist driving his hips into me as we howl like wild dogs.
I kiss and bite his neck as he gasps and pants in my ear. His nails in my back sting fiercely. He’s undoubtedly drawn blood. I cry out, but my pace is unwavering. My cock throbs and aches for release with every thrust. I can’t tell if the cum running down my thighs is his or mine. I use all the strength left in my body to lift him up off the forest floor. His legs still wrap around my waist and he clutches my shoulders. My ragged breaths and grunts pour from my mouth for the whole forest to hear. Hands gripping his ass, slamming him down on my prosthetic, I’m plowing up into him as he cries out. I feel his body tense and shake, his cries getting louder and louder, until he collapses onto me. I know he’s finished but I do not stop. My body aches, but I can’t stop. Pleading and sore he grasps me tightly once more.
“Please! Stop! I came! Please!” he begs, but dogs can’t speak.
I keep slamming my prosthetic into his cunt, grinding my cock against the prosthetic desperate to finish. My core tightens as I thrust into him faster, using his cunt as I please. My blood rushes to my head and cock, my heart pounds in my ears, my vision darkens, my body shakes, until suddenly, finally, I cum.
My legs buckle but I steady myself, laying my partner gently to the ground, and kissing his forehead before collapsing to the ground beside him. We’re breathless, sweat and cum soaked, and soiled with dirt and blood, but the breeze blowing through the trees cools us. I wince, noticing the sweat rolling down my face and soaking my back stinging all of my cuts and bruises. I turn to face my lover, and pull him to me. I cup his bruised face and wipe a tear stain with my thumb.
“Are you alright? Was it too much? How bad does it hurt?” The questions spill from me too quickly. How could I do all those awful things? How could I like all those awful things? He places a finger gently up to my lips silencing me.
“Yes. No. Could be worse.” He laughs, smiling at me, “It was good. You’re good.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask. My disregard for him from before is melting away into concern and shame.
“Just lay here a spell with me, then maybe you can roll me a smoke after we fix each other up.” He reassures me. He’s taken my shame and casted it away. I press him tighter to me.
“As you wish, you did so good for me. Thank you. Thank you.” I whisper to my lover. A tear stings my busted cheek.
I press my lips to his gently. We’re both bruised and aching with lips busted, but this gentleness and tenderness for each other overwhelms all else.
I hold him to my chest, petting and kissing his head, while he strokes my chest. We listen to the trees rustling, and a faint babbling whispering from the creek, and the steadily slowing beating in our chests. I don’t think of how long it will be before I can see him in this light, and in this clearing, or how long it will be before, in these secluded moments, I can scream to heaven he’s mine, the way I wish I could scream it to the world. In this moment time stands still, and we can stay here forever.
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luce-speaks · 22 hours
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kliff and the friends
last minute submission for day two of @fe-aspec-week 2024!! this one is a little thrown together because i had an idea at the last minute but! here goes!!
Kliff has never been particularly fond of other people.
He used to think he just got unlucky, stuck in a tiny village where no one understood the concept of personal space. He dreamed of the day he’d escape them, get out, go anywhere but here, and meet people who were actually decent.
Then he started going to school in the next town over, and with each new person he met, that dream died in front of him. Each and every one of them—over-familiar like Gray, clumsy like Tobin, naive like Alm, or disgustingly romantic like Faye. He hated it. He came back to Ram Village with a disappointed letter from his teacher and a new will to tolerate these idiots so he could safely ignore the rest. He might not fit in, but at least they know him well enough to leave him alone while he’s reading.
The war comes on suddenly, like a storm rolling in overnight, and things change. Kliff learns what fire spells can do to a human being, and Gray stops joking about hitting Tobin with his sword, and Faye picks up a lance for the first time, insisting she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her friends. Tolerable acquaintances become battle-allies, people you can trust to have your back. People who could die beside you, any day. There’s no room out here for petty bickering, but sometimes it also feels like there’s no room to get attached. When the war is over, Kliff thinks, they’ll go their separate ways. He probably won’t even miss them.
Tobin flags him down at camp one day. “Hey, Kliff!”
He rolls his eyes. “Tobin. I thought you knew not to interrupt me while I’m studying.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have questions about magic! That counts as study time, right?”
Now Kliff is intrigued, though he refuses to give Tobin the satisfaction. “Since when do you care about magic? I thought it was too complicated for you.”
Tobin settles beside him, keeping a safe distance, but not bothering to ask whether he minds the company. “Well, I don’t really get it. But I want to learn. You know—for the war.”
He sighs. “I don’t know what Alm or Gray did this time, but you’re better with a bow than you’re ever going to be with magic. Focus on getting better at that.”
“Healing magic,” Tobin corrects. “I want to learn healing.”
“What? Why?”
“C’mon, seriously? I’m worried about you guys! I want us to go back to Ram when this is all over—all of us, together. Even if we’re not all planning to stay.”
“…All right, then. I can try to teach you.” Kliff grins. “Though I wouldn’t count on your ability to learn it.”
Faye catches him off guard in the middle of an overcrowded mess hall. She’s saying something, but he can’t understand her over the din of too many hungry soldiers. Eventually, she gives up and beckons to the door.
Kliff follows her, plate in hand, out to the cool night air. “What was that for?”
She shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to go outside.”
“I—” He pauses. Mess hall never used to bother him more than any other time around camp, but now that they’ve been getting more recruits, it has been getting louder and louder. He’s never liked loud noises, either. “I guess I did.”
Faye walks a little farther away from the tent, towards the woods. He follows her, and they settle together at the forest’s edge—still in earshot of the camp, but safely away from the clamor of the mess hall.
“I miss Ram,” Faye says quietly, after they’ve been eating for a bit. “Seeing this many people in one place reminds me how far we are from home.”
Kliff snorts. “It just reminds me of school. They always crammed too many people into the common areas for lunch.”
“So you didn’t like leaving then, either?”
“I liked going to school,” he answers. “I didn’t like the people there.”
“What kind of people do you like?”
He thinks on this. “The quiet kind.”
Faye smiles and nods. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.
Gray looks out for him during fights.
At first he’s convinced Gray is just showing off, jumping in dramatically and kicking down a mage in mid-chant before they can fire another spell at Kliff. But then it happens a second time, and a third time, and Kliff is more than certain that it’s intentional.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Kliff says, the next time Gray takes a blow for him.
“Do what?” Gray asks. “Look super cool while I’m saving the day?”
Kliff regrets that Gray is too focused on the battle to see him roll his eyes. “Protect me. I can look out for myself.”
“Oh, that? I’m just practicing for next time one of the girls needs saving.” Gray pauses to skewer another incoming mage. “Gotta keep my skills sharp and all that!”
“Gray, I’m serious. Can you stop joking around?” Kliff fires off another spell, stopping an approaching cavalier in their tracks. Now there are no more distractions—Gray will have to talk to him.
Gray turns to face him. “Look, I know you can take it, okay? But that’s not your job. If you’re up in the front lines taking hits, you won’t have the energy to cast your spells. So you do your job, and I’ll do mine, yeah?”
He sighs. “Fine.”
“Great! Now how about a ‘thank you’ for saving your ass?”
“In your dreams.”
Alm brings him a book from town.
“Here,” he says, unloading it off a pile of rations and weapons. “They had this on sale at one of the booths. I thought you might get some use out of it.”
Kliff inspects it. It’s a neatly-bound red tome, with gold embossing on the front. It looks well-used, but it’s holding together nevertheless. He flips it open, skimming the table of contents, and frowns.
“I hate to break it to you, but this is a book on magical theory. It’s not going to teach me anything I don’t already know about battle casting.”
Alm looks a little offended. “I know,” he says. “I just figured you would like it. You liked learning about magic at school, didn’t you?”
“I did, but—” He frowns again, turning the book over anxiously in his hands. “We’re in the middle of a war. Did you spend army funds on this?”
“Don’t worry, I spent my own money on it. No funds wasted.”
“But—” Kliff stammers. “Why? What’s the point? What do you get out of this?”
Alm sighs. “It’s just a gift. We may be at war, but we’re still people. I want you guys to be happy—at least, when we’re not having to kill people.”
“Oh,” Kliff says. “Uh. Thanks.”
Alm smiles, bright as ever. “Any time.”
The war continues, and Kliff keeps dreaming about the places he’ll go once he’s free to travel as he pleases. He’s not sure what kind of people he’ll meet out there, but—he thinks—if they’re anything like the ones he met in Ram Village, he hasn’t got anything to worry about. Other people may be unpleasant—clumsy, naive, romantic, and over-familiar—but they’re still worth knowing, every once in a while.
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goldensunset · 4 months
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nobody has the relationship i do to the sinnoh games. no one else on this earth has had my particular specific experience
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tariah23 · 1 month
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Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)
#I’m also not usually one to get annoyed whenever ppl shit on the things I like#like I’m an adult sorry idc 😵‍💫#but it’s always annoying seeing ppl who know nothing about the story complaining about it#even just as recently with the Gojo being racist shit 😭..#like he’s a really great character despite all of that and even though Gege’s#execution of that could’ve been better or didn’t need to happen at all#because idk what gege was doing even though I do strongly believe that he used a moment like this to showcase Gojo’s ignorance and#that how he’s also human and makes mistakes since if you’re familiar with the series Gojo isn’t really treated like person at all#more like a deity and he doesn’t like that#but he’s never been one to voice his personal feelings and talk about his trauma ever#he gets treated like a god and because of this he’s never felt like he could truly connect with other people#so that’s why he puts on that whole act of being overly friendly/ playing with others and even rude to shut others out because of his#aversion to opening his traumatized self To other ppl like he’s so cool#and when he’s friendly he gives the others just enough of his affection so that he wouldn’t be worried about and not have others pry#but he’s incredibly flawed as well#I feel like gege could’ve showed Gojo being ‘humbled’ some other kind of way over the racism tho 😭. But it’s fine lmfao#I’m still so grateful that he had Gojo actually apologize instead of waving Miguel off like he didn’t matter because like I’ve said before#he literally never apologizes (this is probably the first time that I’ve ever seen gojo apologize to anyone in canon I’m so serious 🗿)#that’s literally not part of him#like he feels regret but he never apologies or shows that he actually cares about what others are expressing to him when they’re upset with#him. like this is crazy. but it shows that he did care about the mistake that he made which I appreciate…. like idk how I would’ve felt#about his character if he showed that he could care less when hurting someone like this🗿…..#I adore him so much sorry sorry for taking about anime I’m just 😭…. ❤️❤️❤️#rambling#I’m glad that everyone is fucking with Miguel now because he is a really interesting character even though we haven’t seen much of him#he’s one of the few ppl who Gojo trusted enough to look after someone who he cared about despite the horrors#because he knew that Miguel would protect yuuta and do right by him#it’s very 😭❤️…
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wavygrayvy · 2 years
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Just finished Under the Banner of Heaven and I gotta say a) watching the lady 3 episodes in one day was emotionally way too much and probably a mistake. b) this is gonna live in my head for a long while and *not* in a fun blorbo way and c) I never want to hear my dad make fun of my taste in media again because there was nothing cute, childish, or comedic about this one.
Oh and bonus thought: very glad they let Jeb say fuck. Poor guy deserved it.
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tender-rosiey · 5 months
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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤
strain — gojo satoru x f!reader
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a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)
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you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.
however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.
but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.
you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.
the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!
so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.
after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.
a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.
not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.
your husband has an abundance of energy.
but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.
his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.
he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.
but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.
he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.
he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.
he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”
you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”
while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”
you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.
then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”
he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.
you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.
but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.
he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.
instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”
you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”
he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”
perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.
you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.
reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.
he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.
you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.
satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.
you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.
he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”
“I know…”
“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”
you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“
“you could’ve died.”
you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.
your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”
your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”
a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”
“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.
“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”
his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.
a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”
“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.
“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.
you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”
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hybridirl · 3 months
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i’ve never done this before…
18 + only, please!
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ellie x f!loser!reader
a/n: so basically i was on janitor ai because i’m genuinely an addicted freak and this was inspired by a chat i had :3 im also replaying tlou2 bc i cant stop i need it i need it i need it. also i think a LOT more things make sense now, so i think you should replay after u play it.
brief summary: ellie is ur big sister’s best friend! but, unfortunately you’re dubbed an “annoying little sister,” your sister’s not home, ellie’s high when she comes over, and ur a loser nerd who can’t deal with confrontation :(. (au if it wasn’t obvious!)
tw / DUBCON?, ellie is very mean, degrading, praise, pet names, reader is a virgin, small age gap if you really squint, porn without a plot, rushed sex, scissoring (tribbling?), use of y/n i think…
⋆ ˚。⋆ ꪆৎ ˚
with a grunt, you pulled your pajama pants up the rest of the way. you were headed to the door after hearing seven hard knocks on the door.
“hello—“ you began, cutting yourself off when you see ellie, your sister’s best friend. “ellie?” you glanced behind her, then behind yourself. “she’s not home right now.”
“yeah, yeah,” she slurred, and your lips went into a thin line from her state, so obviously intoxicated. “she told me come ‘n wait. she’s gettin’ her shit rocked, ‘r whatever. she dropped me off ‘ya know? said you wouldn’t mind. you don’ mind, do you?”
being such a caring person had its ups and downs. you weren’t fond of ellie, and she wasn’t fond of you. she had been your biggest bully throughout the entirety of middle and high school. but, you couldn’t deny her entry. she could get hurt or worse, and you didn’t want that. or to be responsible of it.
you adjusted your glasses, eyeing her with a thoughtful look. her eyes were halflidded, red, and she smelled disgusting. she eyed you right back, her stare almost intimidating.
“no, ellie. i don’t mind,” you said begrudgingly, stepping aside to allow her in. you watched her make her way around the all-too-familiar home while you shut the door. you mentally prepared yourself for tending to her needs; you knew she’d tell if you hadn’t. you also prepared for the anger she would inevitably feel. she was an angry person when intoxicated. you leaned against the door and watched her opened the fridge.
“what do you got?” ellie asked, shutting the refrigerator and looking at you. “what’re you gonna make?”
“i don’t know,” you responded and took a glance at the stove. you hadn’t noticed what she took from the fridge, only gasping when you heard the familiar sound of a beer opening. “hey, hey, hey! that’s my dad’s!” you watched ellie shrug and give you a “so what?” look. “stop it, that’s not good for you!” you rushed over, reaching for the beer, but her rough hand kept you in place as she chugged it down. “ellie, stop! you’re already high, that’s gonna make it worse; ellie, stop!”
“and what the fuck do you know?” she asked as she slammed the beer bottle of the counter, “you stupid fuckin’ loser, what the fuck is wrong with you? i’ll do what-the-fuck-ever i want. you’re such a fucking lame-ass, you won’t even take a lil sip o’ this thing,” she stuck the beer can up to your mouth, which you turned away from, “that’s what i thought, you stupid bitch. you’re probably a virgin, too, huh? you don’t even try- nobody even tries for you. no man, no woman, no whatever. never been in a relationship, never been in fuckin’ nothing. you are such a fucking loser.”
your jaw was slack, almost looking like a fish out of water as it tried to shut and open.
“you’re too high for this,” you said slowly, still shocked at her words. you took a step back, your back pressing against the island counter.
“you don’t know the first thing about ‘too high,’ jackass. bet you never had a dick in you before. too busy studyin’ your stupid fucking books to be the good girl you are. can’t even do this because you’re always bein’ a teacher’s pet, always bein’ a goody-two-shoes, know it all, fucking bitch. probably got a few toys like the desperate freak you are. maybe a dildo? nah, you want that pussy t’stay tight, huh?” you thought it couldn’t get worse than the insults before, but this was insane. your eyes were wide, shock filling your features.
“ellie!” you gasped in horror and embarrassment, “i— i’m calling my sister!”
“you’re a fucking snitch!” she giggled, pointing at you. “she doesn’t care what the fuck i’m saying to you. she’s too busy slutting herself out to give a fuck about your pathetic ass, baby.”
“go away, ellie,” you whimpered out, eyes at the ground. you attempted to push past her, but her hands gripped your wrists. “please.”
“you’re not getting rid of me,” she growled, her beer-breath filling your nostrils, “you’re a goddamn joke. i’m not going anywhere ‘til i’m good ‘n ready. you just know i’m right.” she leaned in, her lips brushing your cheek as she whispered deep into your ear, “you just want my hands all over you, don’t you, y/n? i’ve seen how you watched me. you want a real woman’s hands on ‘ya. all of over your pretty body, hm?”
“no,” you whispered right back, your brows furrowed. this was your sister’s best friend. this was just… wrong; you couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t right. and she was high! she didn’t know what she was doing, what she was saying, but her touch felt so…
“don’t you lie to me,” she huffed her breath hot in your ear, “you wanna get touched bad. you know you do. you want my hands slidin’ down your pretty panties and touchin’ that clit. make you cum all on my hand. you want that, don’t you?”
“ellie,” you almost moaned out at her dirty talk, your brows knitted together in conflict. your hand went to cover your mouth as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pjs and simultaneously your underwear.
“let it out, baby,” she told as your hand muffled a broken moan, “you’re already so, so wet for me. this pussy’s just beggin’ for my touch, huh?” her finger-pad ran across your clit and your knees buckled. she giggled in response, a lazy grin plastered on her face. “mm, ya feel that? this’s what y’ve been missin’ out on with all that nerdy bullshit you do.” her fingers slipped easily inside you, making your eyes roll with pleasure; another moan escaped your throat. “y’so tight. just like i thought.” she pulled her fingers out, quickly giving them a lick before tugging your bottoms down. “oh, baby…” she moaned at the sight, licking her lips as she took you in. “look at that pretty pussy. mhm, ‘n all f’r me, huh?” she knelt down, getting face to face with your cunt. “answer me.” she kissed at your inner thighs. all you could do was watch, trembling under her dominating touch.
you yelped, jumping in surprise as she bit your thigh harshly.
“i said answer.”
“y-yes! all for you, ‘s all for you,” you whimpered, whining as her mouth finally met with your drooling pussy. your resolve had slipped away, only thinking about that needy, touch-starved vulva of yours. “oh, ellie…” she grinned as she watching you come undone, your fingers slipping into her hair and tugging at it. she lapped and lapped at your clit, tongue running circles around the sensitive bud. she gave it a last kiss before she pulled away, smirking at your distress.
“preview, baby. all that was. go to your room, m’followin’ you.”
you were anxious to walk, taking just a moment before giddily rushing to your room. the masculine woman easily followed your direction, shutting the door hard behind her as she pulled you down to the bed with her. her hands were immediately on you as you lay atop her, caressing and running down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing.
“you’re so ready for me baby, aren’t you?” she asked with a small smirk playing at her lips. “you wanna grind that pretty pussy on mine, don’t you?”
“i-i’ve never done this before, i-i don’t know what to do,” you admitted, although she already knew your circumstance.
“makin’ me do all the work, you pretty lil pillow princess?” she teased, that same lazy grin on her face. she easily flipped you over, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “god, how are you so perfect…” she moaned softly to herself, her hands running down your sides, down your legs, and down your calves. she reached her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging them down quickly. you gulped as you eyed her pubic mound, her dark hair trimmed finely.. she lifted your hips up, appreciating your vulva once more. she used her thumb to lift up your clitoral hood, bending down to meet the pearl with her tongue. “mm, god, i can’t get enough of you. pull your shirt up, wanna see those tits ‘ve been wantin’ to see.” you did as you were told, quickly pulling your nightshirt up and showing her your breasts. a groan left her throat as her hands reached out to touch them, tweaking and rolling your nipples between her fingers.
“please,” you whined, your head tilted back. “please, ellie…”
“oh, i know you’re so needy, huh? never done this before? never been touched so good by another girl b’fore, huh?” ellie teased once more, and all you could do was nod. it was all true. “say it, baby. tell me how much of a loser you are.”
with an embarrassed grimace, you obliged, “i-i’m a big loser. ‘ve never, ever gotten laid ‘n i wanna… oh!” you gasped as you felt the sensation of her pussy meet yours. “ellie…” her hips ground against yours, your clits bumping and running across each other.
“you like this? my pussy all over yours?” she growled, rolling her hips to meet your cunt. “fuck, you’re so wet.” you moaned out, your hands trying to find a place to stay as they flailed. they gripped the sheets and you watched above as her pussy slid across yours. you both glistened with a thin layer of sweat, your bodies becoming hot with arousal. “you feel so fucking good.”
“yes,” you cried, “more.” and she gave you more, her hips rolling with fervor while you writhed in pleasure. “p-please— ellie!”
“yeah, scream my name you little slut,” she purred, her auburn hair sticking to her sweaty face. “let ‘em know— let the neighbors know you’re finally getting laid.”
you continued to moan her name, completely drunk on this feeling. she let out small little ‘just like that’s’ as your voice echoed off the walls of your room.
it was intense, your bodies moving together and so perfectly in sync. sweat dripped from her forehead onto your belly, slightly coating your skin. her hands gripped your chest as she ground against you, the position slightly awkward, but pleasing nonetheless as your heats mushed together in symphony. sloppy squelches filled your ears, almost drowned out by your moans and cries as she took you.
“i’m gonna,” you began, tears welling up in your pretty eyes, “i’m gonna cum, ellie!”
“yeah? right on my pussy? cum right on my pussy, baby,” she moaned, her hands reaching her cup her own breast. you moaned, following her command like a dog as your canal contracting around nothing, costing her slick folds in all your essence. your body convulsed as you came, and the sight forced a moan out of her throat. “yeah, that’s it, my good girl, fu—ck… i’m cumming!” with her orgasm following in suit, she gripped your leg hard, riding out her orgasm as you tried to come down from your own. you whined from the overstimulation, feeling her arousal spread out on your flesh. she shushed you, her index finger on your lips as she calmed her breathing. she dropped your leg, plopping beside you with a grunt.
“t-that was good,” you said to her, your eyes lingering on her glistening face.
“mhm, now you get to brag to a—ll your nerdy, little virgin friends that you,” she jabbed a finger, “got laid.”
“you’re mean,” you huffed, a little pout on your face. she smirked, bringing a hand to the back of your neck and bringing you in to kiss.
“yeah?” she chuckled, “but you like it.”
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neo-nomatrix · 11 months
Text
Hate the AM, Hate the PM, But love you
Hobie Brown x reader
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word count: 969
find the mini series here
tags: @maxjesty @marshallowy @sh-tposter2021 @ilovebhna @ladyagagaslefttoe
synopsis: Hobie is still a slightly infuriating neighbor, but there’s something about that jacket and guitar that are all too familiar.
a/n: DRUNK CONFESSIONS!! Part two of this fic. I wasn’t going to write another part to it but i caved 😔
You stood him up. You fucking stood him up. Hobie spent the entire show looking out into the crowd, ignoring the blinding stage lights, to try and find you. But you were nowhere to be found. He asked so nicely too! Despite his nonchalant attitude it took him so long to build up the courage to ask you out. He had dinner reservations planned, which he has obviously never done, looked up places to get a Mr.Whippy and even found a small secluded area where he could play his guitar for you.
The worst part is how it made him feel. He genuinely liked you and it hurt him to think you didn’t feel the same when he thought you did. So what was his solution? Go out with his mates to a pub until 3 am to drink his feelings. Hobie was a bold drunk, bolder than he usually is. He’s also a sloppy drunk, tripping when he walks and slurring his speech like it’s all one word.
You’re peacefully sleeping in your bed with your spiderman eye mask cuddling with your Spider-Punk plushie. It’s not a random occurrence to hear Hobie stomping his boots late at night but it was different today. You heard his boot buckles dragging across the floor and a loud bang against your door. Not necessarily a knock, more of a body slumped against the wood.
“Love! You in there?!” You hear him yell.
You try your hardest to ignore him but as he keeps yelling and pounding against the wood you start to feel sorry for everyone else on your floor. You force yourself out of bed and towards the front door. As you reluctantly open it a drunken Hobie falls into your flat.
“Hobie get your arse up,” you roll your very tired eyes.
He surprisingly agrees and makes his way to your bed.
Great, you think
He tosses his guitar to your couch and gets into your bed like it’s his. Conveniently throwing the spider-punk plush off the bed. He cuddles up with your blanket and closes his eyes. You cannot let him fall asleep.
“Hobie! Hello? That is my bed. Get out!” You yell at him.
“Why’d you do it?” He whispers.
“What,” you ask, still annoyed.
“You stood me up. I asked you to come to my show and you didn’t. Why,” he asked less of a question and more of a statement.
You sigh, of course you knew that was tonight. In all honesty you don’t quite know why you didn’t go. You weren’t doing anything special and it probably would’ve been nice. But you were scared. Scared of what? You also didn’t know that, you just were.
“I… I don’t know,” you admit.
“Really hurt me, Love. I wanted to see you and take you out on a nice date,” he looked away from you.
Your heart shattered. You knew Hobie liked you but not to that extent. You thought he was just playing around with you and didn’t mean anything by it.
“I’m really sorry, Hobie. We should go out some other time, okay? My treat,” you promise.
“Nah, don’t think i’ll have the time,” He says, clearly less sad than he was a few moments ago.
“Oh yeah? Busy with what? Trying to tear down the government from the inside?” You laugh.
“Of course not, that’s for the first saturday of every month. I’ll be busy being Spiderman,” he says, cuddling closer to your blanket.
You stop immediately. Your mind goes blank, the world around you stops. You’re suddenly much more awake than you have ever been. Hobie is… no you can’t even say it. The man you’ve hated ever since you had moved in was the person you loved more than anything else? That can’t be right, he’s having a laugh. That’s gotta be it.
“I don’t believe in comedy,” you remember him saying.
Fuck. He’s not joking, is he?
“What?” you manage to get out.
“I’ll be busy, being spiderman and all. Yknow who that is right? Don’t know if you noticed but he’s- i mean I’m kinda all over your room,” he lets out a drunk giggle.
He pulls out his mask from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to you.
“See?”
You grab it in disbelief. You run your hand over the spandex in awe. Spiderman is right in front of you, you realize.
Oh. My. God. SPIDERMAN IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
You just can’t believe the man you’ve idolized for years was in your bed. YOUR BED.
Hobie takes the blanket off of him, lifting up his shirt to reveal his suit. Blue and fucking red material.
“I don’t believe in the labels though. It’s stupid,” He says in the most Hobie way possible.
“You’re a superhero,” you say, still a little shocked.
“No. No, don't say that. I'm not a hero, because calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologising, narcissistic autocrat,” He says. God even drunk he’s still a smart ass.
“So you still wanna go out?” He asks.
“What? I just found out you’re fucking Spiderman and that’s what you’re asking me? If I want to go out with you?” You respond.
“I mean what else is there to say? I already know you love me,” he nods to the spiderman memorabilia.
Even in this state he still leaves you speechless.
“Well- yeah I guess. We can go out,” you say slowly.
“Cool,” he nods.
He lifts up the blanket and scoots over, inviting you into your bed with him. You roll your eyes and get in with him. He wraps his arms around you and smiles.
“I knew you wanted to snog me from the start,” he laughs.
Hobie is still pretty infuriating, but that is slowly becoming one of your favorite things about him.
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ozzgin · 25 days
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Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons
I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.
Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere
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You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”
Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”
He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.
The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."
Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.
"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."
As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.
"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"
He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.
The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.
He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.
"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."
He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.
He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.
Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.
The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.
He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.
After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.
His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.
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indecisivemuch · 2 months
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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: A certain hospital equipment exposed Luke's feelings for you (funny, fluff, friends to lovers, banter dynamic, minor injuries, happy ending).
Note: I’m sorry if this is not as good as my other works, writers block + being sick has been killing me.
Word count: 2.7k
It was somewhat strange at first to see Luke in normal clothing rather than that bright orange camp shirt that you’ve grown so familiar with. But after spending four days outside of camp and on a quest together, you’ve actually somewhat grown fond of the sight. You could still vividly remember the moment he picked you as his quest companion without an ounce of hesitation. It wasn’t surprising, considering you two have always made a good team, a likely result of training with each other for three years straight. Nevertheless, it warmed your heart that you were his first pick. 
“Are you okay?” You asked inspecting Luke's wound as he sat against a tree and sighed in relief when you realized the cut was not too deep. 
Just a couple of minutes back, you two were walking through the forest and on your way to the nearest bus stop that could take you back to camp. However, the universe must have thought the long journey was not enough of suffering because somehow, you two came across a chimera that managed to claw your arm and Luke in the abdomen. 
“It’s not too bad. I think we can still make it to the last bus if we just quickly wrap your wounds up,” you noted. 
Meanwhile, all Luke could do was watch you. He knew he should be listening, but how could he when you were so attentive to him at that moment? He hungrily took in the way you were taking care of him in such a worried manner as if you were his personal guardian angel. Part of him wanted to soothe your worries, but he selfishly wanted to enjoy it this time because it was for him. 
“Hey, did you hear what I said?” you asked when you didn’t hear a reply. You turned towards Luke, but was quickly caught off guard. 
There was something sincere and sweet about the way he was staring at you. However, somewhere along three years of knowing him, you have concluded that Luke Castellan must have made it one of his life missions to annoy you because he has never passed up on any opportunities for flirty antics just to see you grow flustered. Hence, you ignored how he was gazing at you, though you scowled at yourself internally upon feeling your cheeks warm up. 
“Stop looking at me like that,” you forced out. 
“Like what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Luke almost chuckled at how you started blushing from just the way he was watching you. Oh, if only you knew. Luke loved getting your attention on him. He would snatch up any chance just to have your eyes on him or to have you care for him. The boy loved just seeing you blush over his little teasings. It was also fascinating to him how you never realized the true intentions behind his actions. Luke knew that half the camp probably knew that he was absolutely dotted on you from the way he was acting like a five-year-old boy chasing after his crush. Though, you always deemed his words and gestures as playful and jokes rather than genuine.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. However, the cheeky grin on his face told you otherwise, and you hit his arm in retaliation. “Ouch, is that the way to treat an injured person?” Luke joked.
“You’re barely injured. The wound is not even that deep.” 
“Well…surely, if it’s not that bad, you can just kiss it better, right?” Your cheeks tinted a more evident shade of pink at his words, and you let out a deep sigh before giving Luke a playful glare. He only smirked at this, and Gods, you found that annoying yet endearing at the same time. Meanwhile, the boy was proudly relishing the idea that he was the cause of the blush that was adorning your cheeks.
“Okay, I say, let’s find somewhere safer, and then I’ll disinfect and wrap your wound up, yeah?” You suggested, purposefully deciding to ignore Luke’s previous words.
“Yes, ma’am.” Luke breathed out. 
However, before you could help Luke up and relocate, two hikers spotted the both of you. It was a middle-aged married couple, and you slightly cursed under your breath. As you predicted, they started panicking at the sight of Luke’s bleeding wound and asked if you both needed help.
“Oh no, we’re fine,” you tried saying, though you could see the husband already calling 911. “Seriously, we have this handled,” you tried to reassure them, reaching out to the husband so he’d put the phone down, but the wife touched one of your shoulders.
“How did this happen?” the over-caring strangers asked.
“It was…a bear,” you settled on saying, grimacing when you realized you were less convincing than you wanted. You hoped the woman would not ask for further elaborations because that would require the impromptu level you were not ready to play at.
“The ambulance should be here soon,” the husband informed while keeping 911 on the line, and you abruptly turned to him. Now, your mind started panicking. You two were meant to keep a low profile.
“What? No, he’s really fine. It’s just a minor injury. Look! He’s practically like he always is. Right, Luke?” You turned back to Luke, hoping he’d attest to your words against these strangers. However, you were caught off-guard by the sight of him with his eyes closed instead. “Luke?” you called again, this time louder. Yet, you were met with the same response - utter silence.
Then came the sound of sirens, and the next thing you knew, you were sitting on a chair next to a hospital bed where Luke was lying still. You’ve been sitting there for two hours, calmly waiting for the boy to wake up after recovering from the initial panic over the thought of something seriously wrong with him. The only noise in the room was from the ticking clock on the opposite wall to you, as well as the occasional sound of magazine pages being turned.
“Y-Y/N…?” The quiet sound of Luke calling out your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up from the magazine in your hand. “Where are we?”
“The hospital,” you answered promptly. You watched as the Hermes cabin counselor looked down at the item in your hand, then back up at your face again. 
“Well, you seem awfully calm. Not even worried at all about me?” You almost chuckled at his words, slightly in disbelief that even after getting knocked out, Luke somehow still had the energy to joke.
“Nah, the doctor told me you were going to be fine. Apparently, it was the mild concussion from knocking your head against the tree that made you pass out. Said you’d be up in like three hours or so.” Luke nodded as he remembered the chimera shoving him, causing him to bash his head against a tree. The boy sat up on the hospital bed, and you helped him by adjusting his pillow so he could lean against it.
“So you would have cared otherwise?” He gave you a teasing grin. Things like that had you thinking sometimes if he was just being playfully flirty or if he meant more. Luke does not seem to do this with anybody else at camp. But once again, you ruled out the theory of him having feelings for you in that way. 
“Only because I would not have anybody else to harass if you die,” You poured Luke a glass of water and handed it to him. He only smiled at your witty reply and took a sip of water. However, you took the opportunity to be honest, just so he’d at least know that you do care about him, despite the sarcastic remarks before.
“On a serious note, though… I’m glad you’re okay, Luke,” you sent Luke a sweet smile. Though there it was again — that look. However, for some reason, he didn’t whip up a clever, flirty line to joke around, which made you wonder what was on his mind.
Meanwhile, Luke felt as if his lungs had lost half its capacity. Gods, under the moonlight, you looked ethereal. It made him wonder for a second whether he was in a coma because you felt too good to exist in this ever-so-cruel world. Don’t even get him started on the way you were smiling at him, so sweet like caramel that his eyes were tracing to forever remember. He internally sighed, wondering how many more signs must he give out before you would get that he was genuinely interested in you.
You misinterpreted Luke’s look as one of vulnerability. Your brain theorized that maybe he was shaken from the chimera attack, so you slowly but surely grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. However, you didn’t notice the slight hitch in Luke’s breath as soon as you did this. His eyes almost fluttered shut at how nice it was to have your hand around his. If he could hold your hand every day, he absolutely would. You started rubbing your thumb on his knuckles as well. Oh, to be somebody you found worth worrying about and caring for. Luke thought maybe he did win the lottery after all. He could feel his heart wanting to crack his ribcage open to jump out of—
Unexpectedly, you heard a sudden continuous beeping from one of the equipment nearby and looked at it. Luke followed your gaze, and his face immediately started flushing over the drastic change in the heart monitor’s graphic representation of his heartbeat. The beeping still continued when you looked back at him with evident concern on your face.
“Woah, are you alright?” Luke tried muttering an affirmative answer but froze when you leaned closer and lightly graced his forehead with your hand. The boy gulped while you were cluelessly trying to see if he was coming down with a fever or not — which you assumed he was due to the way his face seemed to have warmed up. However, you were greeted with a normal body temperature and the sound of the heart monitor beeping even faster.
Suddenly, everything clicked. You cast your gaze on Luke again, tilting your head in amusement.
“Am I making you flustered?” Luke’s cheeks flared even more at your words. The Hermes cabin counselor looked away from you, taking his hand out of yours now as he attempted to slow down his heartbeat. However, you immediately took hold of his face and moved it back towards you. A mischievous grin grew on your face as you took in Luke’s blushing. How could you pass up the opportunity to finally torment him and get him flustered, especially when he has been doing the same thing to you for the past years?
Luke watched as you had him wrapped around your fingers both figuratively and literally, smirking as if you knew you had entire control over him. But he knew you only knew the surface level of it because even he doesn’t know the extent to which he would go for you. The only thing he knew was that he was in deep, deep trouble. He knew whatever part of him that was logical would perish as soon as you let him be yours. Yet he did not seem to mind discarding all his senses and submitting to whatever these feelings were.
“Careful there, Castellan, keep looking at me like that, and I might just have to believe you’re secretly obsessed with me.” You were only joking, but the way his eyes fluttered when you said that made you gulp. 
“And what if I tell you I am?” At his words and the sound of his heartbeat speeding up on the heart monitor, you froze. 
It was as if all the clues had come crashing down at once. It finally sunk in for you that perhaps you were wrong this whole time for thinking Luke was not into you. Because now, this hospital room had somehow become a crime scene filled with evidence of his feelings for you - the way he was intensely looking at you with dilated pupils, the uncontrollable speed of his heartbeat that you could feel where your fingers lay near his neck and pulse point, his shallow and nervous breathing, the beeping sound from the heart monitor that would make others think it has gone haywire, and most of all, the earnest and resigned look on his face as if he had already embraced the fact that his feelings for you would not change whether or not they would be reciprocated.
Your hand left his face to brush his dark curls. Your eyes cast down at his lips quickly before looking back up. You noticed the yearning in his eyes and how he copied your actions. 
“...Can I?” Luke uttered breathlessly as if all the air in his lungs had been replaced with pure, relentless wanting. Even as a victim of heavy longing and subjected to desire, Luke still awaited the green light. His eyebrows slightly scrunched as if silently asking for permission, and you knew exactly what he wanted when he glanced down at your lips again. 
One tiny nod from you, and he pulled you in. His hands delicately held the sides of your face as your lips clashed. Almost instantly, Luke felt as if he might flatline soon from the way your kiss was seemingly sending him into a cardiac arrest. He practically melted as you giggled into the kiss when the heart monitor started beeping even more frequently, indicating Luke’s increasingly erratic heartbeat. Something about this moment felt so urgent yet endearing like a long-awaited wish come true.  
Slowly but surely, he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you up onto his hospital bed effortlessly, as if desperately needing you to just be closer to him. You both somewhat laughed at this before you wrapped both arms around his shoulders without breaking the kiss. 
One of your hands started playing with his hair. You were not sure why but you pulled it and almost instantly, Luke had to break away from the kiss as a raspy groan escaped his lips. Your other hand on the side of his face and neck could feel the way it echoed as a hum in his throat, and you gulped at your effect on him.
Luke licked his lips as he stared at you again. He came to the conclusion that after that kiss, you were wrong that he was obsessed with you. Instead, he was everything above that - devoted, fervently fixated, infatuated, an addict who shamelessly wanted and needed you. Gods, maybe he was a madman when it came to you.
Your eyes flickered to the clock nearby and noticed it was 4:41am, realizing there was just enough time for the two of you to leave the hospital and catch the next bus back to camp. That prompted you to whisper, “I think we should leave now. If we do, we’ll be on time for the next bus.” Luke groaned at your words while you hopped off the hospital bed and grabbed your jacket. The boy unhooked himself from the heart monitor, though his eyes lingered on it for a bit while a smile grew on his face. 
“Why the rush?” He asked, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door for you.
“Cause as lovely as that was, I don’t want to make out again in a hospital,” Luke froze before grinning at your words.
“Oh, does that mean it might happen again? Us making out?” He asked, watching as a cheeky smile grew on your face despite you opting to just shrug at his question. You fanned your hand out before him, smiling even more when he put his hand in yours. 
With that, you led him out of the hospital hand in hand while he grinned like a fool behind you.
Honestly, Luke would blindly go anywhere you lead him.
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