#( my mind is blanking for writing. )

[b1mbodoll]

Okay but stepdad!jake convincing your mom to let him bring you to a work related “business trip” but in reality he’s bringing you on vacation for a week and fucks you the whole time <\3

pairings: jake sim x f! reader

warnings: stepcest + pregnancy + daddy kink + exhibitionism + breeding + infidelity

💌: im normal im normal im normal im normal (trying to gaslight myself bc this ask made me insane!!!! burn me at the stake plz im crazy)

jake is absolutely infatuated w you :( calls u his pretty girl n spoils you with gifts (and cum) sweet talks ur mom into letting him take you on a daddy/daughter trip, says it’s to makes you feel better cus youve been upset lately (the reason being the fact that you cant publicly claim jake cus he’s ur stepdad) when he gets the okay from ur mom he takes you to a hotel far from your hometown, plans romantic dates and kisses you without worrying about anyone you know catching you two <3

late at night the two of u make ur way into the hot tub, jake untying your bikini top and palming your tits. you’re so desperate to feel him inside you free his cock from the confines of his swim trunks, whining as he bottoms out. the only thing on jake’s mind when he’s balls deep in your pussy is knocking you up. he knows it’d ruin not only his reputation but yours as well, but the thought of his stepdaughter proudly carrying his child n making you a mommy makes his cock twitch inside of you. “fill me up daddy, want you t’get me pregnant. i’ll be so good for you please, jus’ breed me.” if he was in his right mind he’d pull out, knows he shouldn’t dump his cum in your womb but he can’t stop himself, not when your pussy is clenching around his dick, trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

[domesticated-feral]

deer!scott collage for scott week!!!!!

[the-inner-musings-of-a-worm]

in honor of july 7th being ap score release day, i’d like to share how i wrote my entire synthesis essay about neil josten and managed to get a 5. i had to describe the scene where andrew and neil were making out and neil got a countdown text that he ignored. some poor english teacher had to sit down and read my essay yapping about neil jostens psyche and still gave me a 5. i didn’t want to write making out so i described what they were doing as “engaging in romantic activities”. i got away with analysing smut. absolute legends

[laswells-ashtray]

What if weapon!Price did get loaned out to another team to help with a mission and comes back more violent and snappy?

It takes work to locate him, when John doesn't want to be found you've got a snowball's chance in Hell finding him. But if there's one weakness they share, it's standing out in the cold with a fag in their mouth.

So, when he has an inkling that John is smoking, he's quick to appear out in John's typical hideyhole. One spot that's hidden from view that most people don't tend to notice unless it's pointed out to them.

John doesn't even blink at his sudden appearance, focused on his lighter as he lets out a string of curses trying to get the poor, abused thing to work.

So, he resigns himself to leaning against the wall and ignoring how the cold brick decimates his shirt in the fight to keep his body at a normal temperature as he crosses his arms and watches the angry sergeant in front of him.

The failing attempts to intimidate his lighter into working would be comedic if it didn't lead to John dropping the thing and stamping on the cheap plastic until it cracks, leaking lighter fluid over the concrete below his boots.

He had made the mistake of trusting another captain, allowing him to drag John onto a mission with a team of strangers who were all thrilled at the knowledge of working with their best weapon of war. The mission had been a success and John had returned back to him in one piece but the younger man had been prone to sporadic bursts of directionless anger.

The machinery that he had so carefully deconstructed with his hands, guiding him into the shape of a young man who made his own choices and fired a gun of his own accord. Only to be wrenched and shaken back into submission at the hands of someone MacMillan trusted with rusty tools and force.

He may as well have cut the wires with his own hands.

"Fuck did that lighter ever dae tae ye?" He utters, watching the Englishman with barely concealed concern.

John looks up at him with a blank expression that sends him years back in time, to meeting a young man who knocked him on his arse because the only thing he was trained to be was an attack dog in a muzzle. An expression he hadn't worn in months.

Mac doesn't comment on it, God knows John doesn't want to hear it. Instead, he uncrosses his arms and digs his obnoxious Barbie pink lighter out of his pocket, tossing it over to the sergeant. John only grunts in response.

"Heard ye almost ripped the face aff ae Miller."

John doesn't attempt to feign guilt, it would be an insult to the both of them. "He was running his mouth."

"He does that a lot, it's never really been an issue wae ye before."

He's yet again met with silence that has guilt churning in his gut as he closes the distance between them. John's attention has not so subtly drifted back to his cigarette as he lights it, the closest to a fuck off he'll offer Mac.

"Ye ken talk aboot it if ye want, unlikely but the offers there. Or ye can spar it oot wae me and batter someone as ye so desperately want tae dae." It's the closest to a proper apology that he'll offer John.

He might've helped mould John into the finger on the trigger instead of the barrel on the gun but you can't shape a weapon into a human capable of proper communication skills if you haven't mastered them yourself.

"I'll think about it."

"That's aw a'll ask of ye."

[goodlucktai]

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

x

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there. 

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”  

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 

“Now.” 

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dmitri: *jokingly* If only you knew what your new husband and I did to keep each other warm while we were locked up.

Joyce: Oh, yeah? Why don't you show me?

Dmitri: Is she serious?

Hopper: *already taking off his clothes* Oh, yeah.

[kaizokunoyume]

Listen carefully.

(processing)

[dhs-in-disguise]

Ever since I went to Austria (against my will) I can‘t stop thinking about that one guy König from CoD. More specifically I can‘t stop thinking about how people write his German dialogue in fics (don‘t even get me started on the grammar, I have examples…).

Like, I know it‘s not a bog deal and silly, but Austrian German and German German are not the same, and I knew that before going to Austria, but now I can‘t read anything without immediately thinking „he would not fucking talk like that“. It‘s amusing though, to think about how, if he were to actually speak his native language, it would sound less like „Hallo, wie geht es Ihnen?“ and more like „SERVUS, wos mochT‘s Läb’n so boai düir m‘n Fræunt?“

[sushi-attacks]

Prompt: Sakura and Sasuke are attacked at night, in their respective apartments by a impersonator/shapeshifter. Sakura was attacked first, where the Sasuke lookalike made a visit on her balcony, but he fled when she recognised that he wasn't the real Sasuke. Then it attacked Sasuke, in his room, disguised as a Sakura trying to seduce him. Sasuke was the one to capture the shapeshifter. This scene is after they went to the Interrogation Room where they had to face together this person/entity and make sense of what transpired between them this particular night.

This is a snippet of many scenarios I have in my mind daily. It won't be a full story. Be free to use it if you'd like. Thank you for reading it!

Sasuke was looking at her with a smirk or something like a sneer, proud of himself while being strapped to the chair in front of her. He is so unlike him. She doesn't even know how she could have mistaken him for the real Sasuke-kun.

"I knew he wasn't Sasuke-kun because I know that he wouldn't do that." Because he doesn't see me that way. He doesn't love me. The words hung up in the air around them. Her voice has been perfectly steady, like stating today's weather. Like an universal truth.

Naruto and Kakashi looked with worry at her. They could only imagine what this night's events meant for Sakura, opening old wounds that they never quite healed.

"Sakura-chan. Would you like to continue what we did on the balcony? What? Now you're holding back? " the fake Sasuke provoked her.

Sakura looked to the side. She was angry. How could he? Dare to use Sasuke's body and face just like that. Taunting her. Making a fool of herself. She clenched her fists, but she wasn't ready to punch him, fake Sasuke or not. She couldn't. For it was still Sasuke's face.

In truth, nothing happened. His words are just there to provoke her. Her attacker didn't succeed in tricking her because she recognised it as a mirage from the beginning. It was a misstep to show up suddenly like that, and at night, when there was no emergency to wake her up for. Sasuke was a practical person. He didn't do visits. Not to her, not like that. The impersonator assumed too much, when he thought Sasuke was in love with her. That's when he failed.

Suddenly, his head whiplashed with a force of a punch. But it wasn't her.

"Hn. Maybe she will. But I will not." She turned to see Sasuke droping his arm back to his side.

"Oh, I bet you won't. Isn't it, Sasuke-kun?" In front of them now stood Sakura, in sexy lingerie, the same robe she wore when she came into his room and straddled his torso with her legs while pressing kisses on his face down his neck. He has been asleep, having one of those dreams which always happened to be filled with pink silky strands of hair and forest green eyes filled with lust and rosy lips, when he saw the exact same Sakura materialised in front of him. In his defense, he was still fighting the after-effects of his dream, he could swore that he was imagining things. And he wanted so bad to be real that he let his guard down. He pressed his hand on her waist and gave in her touches. A moment of vulnerability, to be honest. But then something changed and he activated his sharingan to lock her in place and then made a run for his katana across the room. Then they ended up in this room, in the Intelligence and Interrogation Headquarters. Of course. And he was pissed.

----------------

Now they are walking side by side, in the growing sun, their night disturbed.

She doesn't know what to make of this night's events. She feels shame. It reminded her of her clingy past-self. Had she always looked like that in front of him? Especially when she knew that Sasuke didn't like her back. Her Sasuke-lookalike surprised her, even just a little. Even though she knew it wasn't him for real. Couldn't be. Maybe there was still a part of her that she hoped that he will show up to her doorstep like that.

"It's just..it was so real. It was you in so many ways and at the same time, it wasn't." Sakura looked away, pursuing her lips, trying to make sense of this night like solving a difficult puzzle. She tries not to let the sadness and the feeling of dejection show on her face. She feels cold. Her arms wrapped around her sides.

"I can only imagine what you had to witness. I...it throwing himself at you."

"Sakura."

She feels her skin prickle with excitement at him saying her name, the way her name rolls off his tongue turns into something smooth and velvety, calming even, that washes over her body.

She looks up and at him. She recognizes something soft in his eyes and at the same time determined, the same look he gets in the battlefield when his eyes lock on his target, with a single purpose.

He usually is a man of few words. Wherever he went to, he only needed his sword and his fists. He is action oriented, he shows up by doing. But this time it's different and he knows it. Her slacked shoulders and the way she keeps avoiding his eyes since they left the Interogation Room let him know that she is indeed affected by this night's affair. He was too. So that is why he would do that for her, he will do different. His eyes are determined and focused because he wants to make sure that what is he about to say reaches her and his words express what he actually feels and thinks and means to say.

"I knew it wasn't you. I guess I am always attuned to you, to your presence, to all the little things you do. That make you. The way you smile, your soothing hands, your freckles, your eyes." Her viridian eyes that pierce his soul and make him weak in the knee.

He doesn't wait for her reply, but takes ahead on the path to her house, making sure that she is safe and sound before returning to the Interrogation Room. There are things that have to be taken care of.

He won't tell her about the kiss. That he knew instantly in his dream-haze state that it wasn't she who kissed him this time. Even though he wanted to. To be her.

His dreams are filled with her. Her mesmerising eyes, her hands drawing on his back, her rosy lips opened in a lustful, breathy exhale. He is ashamed really to admit the kind of dreams he has of her, of doing to her. The way he, most of the times, wakes up sweating and something pressing below his navel - demanding to be taken care of.

And in that vulnerable state, which happened to be this unfortunate night, he couldn't differentiate between dream state and reality. But then he knew, for when the shapeshfter touched his lips, he recognised immediately that it wasn't her.

Sakura looks at him with a blush that kisses her cheeks. The dim light hides it. Shyness overwhelms her. She doesn't know what to do with this information. A hopeful kind of feeling fills her heart. She follows Sasuke's steps.

The first rays of the sun appear from behind the Hokage Mountain bringing in with it a new day.

Note: This take place in the blank period, after Sasuke returns from his redemption journey and they have to face their feelings for one another (or more like Sasuke has to). I have to add that before this night, Sasuke has felt Sakura's lips in the past. Sasuke and Sakura take on a mission when she has to use her Byakugou to heal and transfer her chakra to Sasuke so that he could save them both from there. It's just that it is more effective when she shares it by lips (indulge me please). Insipired from Chiyo-sama's Jutsu, but invented by her. So, he recognizes her by the way her lips feel (because he is so in love with her).

[sweetieviktor]

"can i?", feat. steb.

summary: you miss him, so why not pay him a little visit?

word count: 805.

content warning: minor spoilers of arcane, season 2, maybe a little ooc steb, established relationship, maddie appears two times (if that counts as a cw lol. btw its just for the narrative okay, i dont like her too) and fluffiness!! :)

author notes: TEHRE HAS BEEN 6 MONTHS WHERE I COULDN'T WRITE DOWN A DAMN THING, BUT FUK IT WE ARE SO BACK NOW YEEEY!!! but for real now, im really sorry over the fact that i didn't post anything for this long. life's is kinda shitty and my job is killing me but wtvr!! at least im alive and writing again! hope you like it!! :D

today is that kind of day were you knew steb would be working nonstop. starting the job when the first rays of sun shine through the dense clouds, and finishing it when the sun sets again. but duty calls, as the enforcers say.

as the hours passed, you missed him more and more, the feeling almost unbearable. oh, you would commit a crime just to see him now. but he shouldn't be this far, it was meant to be a normal patrol around the most crowded areas in piltover, the only difference from a common workday being the fact that he needed to cover his friend shift.

so you walked out the door, heading to the center of the city, to the academy's direction, passing by some familiar faces, even managing to catch a glimpse of the signature smile of piltover’s golden boy in between the crowd, where a bunch of people greeted and cherished him because of his newest achievement based on hextech. maybe this was the reason why the enforcers got called to work till so late. not that far away, you could see steb in his full uniform and, by his side, a red haired girl, maddie, an bubbly and young enforcer assigned to work with him while on her first few months, that's what he told you.

it was pretty obvious that she was new giving the way the smile on her face never faded. she talked with such enthusiasm that her hands couldn't barely match how fast the words came out of her mouth. maddie didn't even noticed when you started approaching them, how you watched them, searching for steb's eyes, wishing for him to look at you.

when his gaze finally fell on you, his ears started flapping. one, two times before stopping the closest as possible to his skull. he turned to maddie but you couldn't identify what he was mouthing and signing to her, but he looked apologetic as he pointed to the side, to a dark alley, where no one was. he soon left her, taking wide but composed steps to it's direction while his eyes searched for yours in the crowd, and locking again, almost as if asking you to follow him, close and stealthy. it would be quite a gossip if an enforcer was seen with a citizen in any... uncommon setting.

when you couldn't see him anymore, you followed his steps, walking between all the people, whether from piltover or not, damn weekends when everyone wanted to go out. once you reached that said alley, his hand soon found yours, guiding you deeper in there, where almost no light could reach your silhouettes, not wanting a single pair of eyes landing on you both.

he had a gentle smile on his face, a different sparkle on his eyes, something you couldn't quite place what it was, maybe it could be the thrill to do something this risky while on duty, but, janna, you couldn't care less if this caused any trouble for you. his other hand was placed in your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, getting closer and closer to you. he licked his lips, his ears pointing up and the scales on below his eyes moving quickly, almost as if he was scared of doing what he was planning just minutes ago. his eyes trailed back to the streets, then to you, falling to your lips and getting back to your eyes. “can i?”, that was the only thing he mouthed at you before your lips were on his.

the kiss shared was so full of emotions yet so quick that he couldn't help but steal a peck after it ended, smiling at you. he closed his eyes, bringing both of your foreheads together – a gesture of loving in zaun –, letting his hand travel from your cheek to the back of your neck. steb kissed your lips again, and again, alternating between this and some stolen little kisses, earning giggles from you.

when none of you couldn't barely breathe piltover’s fresh air anymore, he decided it was enough, his hands slowly letting go of you, gesturing for you to leave the alley first, so you wouldn't draw any suspicion from any of the enforcers nearby or from the population. and you followed his orders.

after sometime, you see him getting out of there too, walking quickly towards maddie. she looked mad over the fact that she was left alone for a bit of time, and you could see the sides of steb's lips quirking up, trying to maintain an stoic face while the girl kept on ranting about how she felt abandoned. you left, smiling and with an sweet memory to cherish through the day. and the best thing: you didn't had to commit any crime to see your partner!

[puppetmaster13u]

I love this Au so much and I love the idea of the league thinking that Alfred is the one who built/created the batfam thanks to misunderstandings.

Alfred is unimpressed with the time that Bruce has brought Dick back- and brought guests back!- on a school night.

Au belongs to my mutual @phoenixcatch7 and you deserve to check them out <3

[faerie0fdeceit]

It was cold. Unusually so, especially for that part of Beast-Yeast. Sure, it was chilly most of the time, and the endless nights of the Faerie Kingdom did nothing to give off the illusion of warmth. Yet it did offer safety, and this place didn’t. The low fog, obscuring the average cookie’s field of vision. Luckily, Blossoming Dewsong Cookie wasn’t quite the average cookie. Yet, she might as well have been, considering the shivers running down her back weren’t helping her concentration, trying to make sure she won’t step in some hole in the ground. Yet, as she approached, she felt no fear. The Spire of Deceit wasn’t intimidating. The stench of Lies had been something she’d grown used to from her dearest friend, the North. But she wasn’t here for that. After…after Elder Faerie’s death, everything had been colder. A new guardian was appointed, yes, but it wasn’t the same. She’d heard of other cookies’ burdens, and now it was time to ease her own. It was time for a confrontation. She doesn’t knock, she doesn’t yell. Because she knows they know somebody is there.

—— @thecharactersthatnevermet

(vee you are a meanbean)

*Passion Fruit Cookie happened to be close by the entrance at the time, and as we all know, with one bad sense, another is enhanced, and footsteps could be heard on the other side. Odd. It wouldn't be anyone who lives in the Spire... Have those fools Lord Shadow Milk Cookie told them about come back for round two? How silly. They gently rolled their eyes and approached the door. After a second of attempting to locate the handle, they finally found it and opened up. Hm, only appears to be one cookie around, and they certainly don't recognise the colour scheme immediately. But, no matter who it is, the same welcoming and calm façade goes on almost instantly. And with a friendly smile, they greeted the mystery visitor*

"Hello there... The Spire doesn't often get visitors, how may I help you?"

[bananaguyboi]

I wasted my time writing a scene only to realize that I won't use that scene at ALL

FUCK ME, AND MY LIFE

[ultimatebassist]

I really need to start writing again I've been way to lazy and procrastinating ugh

People gotta say 'go write bassist' I need the encouragement to write tomorrow 🙏

[reddamselette]

Jason was resting against the headboard of his bed, his glasses low on his nose as he read with a book pressed on his thigh. The dim lighting from his lamp provided illumination, a fuzzy warm glow like the sun was peeking through the blinds of his window during sunrise.

It was well past midnight. His room was the only window barely lit up, the city was asleep as was every other person within the apartment he resided in. Jason assumed Thalia had already gone to bed, no longer able to hear the muffled talking and shouts of laughter each time they’d been on the phone with a friend.

He sighed as he threw his legs over the edge of his bed, closing the book along with him as he stood up and made his way over to his desk sitting in the corner near the window. Jason took off his glasses to rub at his eyes, he finished the book but he had a five page book report left that was due the next morning before lunch. He didn’t know when time was lost on him, he might’ve been busy but at the moment, sleep was all he could think about.

Just before he would leave his room to wash his face and make a cup of tea, he heard a thud.

It was a fleeting thing and he would’ve thought it was a mere figment of his imagination had it not happened again.

Jason turned around and stepped closer to his window, pushing the curtains apart only to reveal someone on the other side of the glass. Someone who was known on the news and the talk of the public, a hero with a spider front and center on his chest, never one to stay too long and was always one to keep an identity hidden.

Against his better judgment, he unlocked the latch to his window and pulled it up, allowing the hero to stumble in with a muffled grunt that quickly turned into a wince.

Jason closed the window and shut the curtains, carefully directing the other to sit at the chair of his desk.

He had never seen Spiderman up close before. However seeing the real thing compared to what he had seen on the media was always a different experience. Others think he was old enough to be in his twenties but to Jason, the hero couldn’t have been younger than he is.

“Why in the world,” Jason started in a whisper, “would you randomly ask someone who you don’t even know for help?”

Spiderman laughed, a breathless sort of sound that reminded Jason all too much of someone who stole his heart. His body shivered involuntarily like he was shocked. He might’ve been.

“Why in the world would you let someone—ah, shit—let someone you don’t know in your room?” The hero asked in turn, a lazy tilt of his head to the side as he pressed a gloved hand to his torso. “I..I think I can trust you.”

Jason huffed and he left the room. Only to come back minutes later with a few things, a first aid kit and rubbing alcohol.

His information on first aid and injuries were only built on what Will would mention, what he’d share from the medical program he was enrolled in. As he knelt down beside the hero, gently pulling away his hand to check the wound, Jason knew it wasn’t fatal but it was nasty under the fabric of his suit.

“Lift up your shirt,” Jason muttered as he set the things beside his knees, opening the lid to the alcohol and used the washcloth to absorb some of the stinging liquid.

“Usually you would have to—“ The hero hissed as he slowly peeled his shirt up and over his side, revealing warm and tan skin covered in blood. “Take me out on a date first before asking me that.”

“Hold still, you’re bleeding everywhere.” Jason could only imagine the questions and concerns if he left his room unattended for Thalia to see. They’d think he was related in life threatening situations, might’ve gotten mugged or something other that wouldn’t have been possible unless he left the safety of his room that late. Thalia always did have the talent of stressing themself out.

Although, Jason had a feeling that if they knew he opened his window to a stranger—nevermind that they’re a hero—they would explode.

Those thoughts were quickly drowned out, a flash of lightning to something that had struck out in Jason’s mind. “What did you mean by you think you can trust me? I could’ve been a bad guy for all you know.”

The hero curled his fingers into a fist as he released a strained breath of air and Jason murmured an apology, carefully dabbing the washcloth laced with rubbing alcohol around the wound. Will would’ve been proud, really. “I-Is it safe to say that I doubt it? I’ve had my—my fair share of bad guys and none of them read Wuthering Heights before bed.”

“What if I happen to be an extinguished criminal then? Get inspiration on my wrongdoings or whatever from whatever I read?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing this isn’t a comic book, otherwise I think—I think I would’ve had to deal with the Joker or something.”

Jason huffed under his breath, shaking it head as he cleaned up the last bit of blood around the wound, hoping he disinfected thoroughly yet he felt like even the slightest of it went a long way. He set the washcloth down and grabbed a gauze pad, pulling off the thin sheet of paper as he stuck it to the hero’s side, doing it in such a way to avoid anything suddenly getting into the gash.

“My best friend says the same thing,” Jason said after he began unrolling the bandage around the hero’s torso.

Spiderman lifted his head to look at Jason through his mask but the blond was concentrated. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed in the way that no one but him would notice. “Do they?”

Jason didn’t answer for a moment as he tidied everything up, packing away the bandages and such into the first aid kit then closed the lid to the bottle of rubbing alcohol. His knees ached by the time he stood and he placed it onto his desk next to his book. “Mm. My older sister says he’s a bad influence though.”

“I am not a bad influence—“ He paused and he coughed weakly, then he sighed just as Jason nodded to himself and took a seat on his bed directly across. He hesitantly raised his hand, hooking his fingers around the material of his mask to pull it off.

Brown curls popped and fell around his face, frizzy and hardly taken care of, some strands stuck to his forehead due to sweat. It was a rough fight Leo went through, he didn’t know how he managed to escape.

He had several small cuts to his cheek, his lip, his jawline. A bruise forming high on his cheekbone near his eye but hazel irises remained the same and he was otherwise unscathed and embarrassed. “How did you know?”

Jason had guessed. He had his suspicions for a long while, since their sophomore year. They were halfway through junior year now, events and trips piled one after the other and they were busy as ever. He vaguely recalled the sudden absences of his best friend—his tia needed something or he left something at home—with rushed apologies as he ran like his life depended on it.

And it had.

And it seemed to make Jason fall in love with him more. The boy he loved since middle school. The hero he looked at like he decorated the sky in stars, pulled the very reins of the chariot holding the sun.

Jason couldn’t help it. There were dangers of him knowing yet he wouldn’t mind at all of being Icarus. He would always fly too close to the sun if it meant spending his entire life with Leo, he thought.

“Your excuses aren’t very convincing, Leo.”

[olteacup]

trying to cook but i share a room AND i have school tmrw </3

just tell me you hate me 😔😔 (i can continue working in the morning but knowing me i'll be napping)

little sneak peak though! yay at least i got SOMETHING done and i have a very small brief idea of what im doing (no i dont im winging it)