#...anyway; just more nonsense thoughts that have crossed my mind

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 4) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Lille was going to be tough on Thursday, but Trent's mind wasn't on tactics. His thumb hovered over his Raya profile - all those matches, all those posh girls with their perfect smiles and calculated moves.

Delete.

Some girl from Chelsea had been messaging him about drinks. Block.

That Instagram model who kept sending eye emojis. Block.

His phone buzzed.

April: Getting checked today.

April: Better not keep me waiting too long.

His stomach did that flip thing again.

April: And I hope you followed my command last night.

April: Would hate to start our arrangement with a punishment.

Christ. She was already getting in his head and they hadn't even started yet.

Trent: Got my appointment at 2

Trent: And yes, I behaved

April: Good boy.

Those two words shouldn't affect him like that. But here he was, grinning at his phone like some simp.

"Someone's in a good mood."

Mo dropped his lunch tray next to him, Virgil sliding in across the table. The canteen was busy, everyone loading up before afternoon training.

"Just having a good day innit?"

"Nah." Virgil pointed his fork at Trent. "This is different. You've been weird lately - all quiet. Now you're sitting here grinning at your phone like it's Christmas."

"Maybe I'm just happy?"

"The old Trent's back then?" Mo's smile was proper infectious. "No more moping about?"

Was he back though? Felt different this time. With April... it was like she wanted him to be more himself. Even if that self liked things a bit... different.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Been thinking about what I'm going to do to you.

April: Once you're cleared of course.

Fucking hell. In the middle of lunch?

"Earth to Trent!" Mo was waving his hand. "You're gone mate."

"Just..." he shrugged, trying to hide his grin. "Feel better, you know? Like I can be myself again."

"Good." Virgil nodded. "Was getting tired of that posh act anyway. Didn't suit you."

Mo clapped him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into his pasta. "Whatever it is, I'm happy for you bruv. Just don't go getting distracted before Lille yeah?"

Another buzz.

April: First lesson when you're cleared - teaching you how to kneel properly.

April: Been thinking about those footballer legs of yours...

Distracted? Him?

Too late for that, wasn't it?

"You sure you're alright?" Virgil was giving him that look. "Looking flushed."

"Never better," Trent grinned. And for once, he actually meant it.

Lunch with Mo and Virgil felt normal again - like before all this image reinvention nonsense started. Before Sophie and her posh friends and trying to be someone he wasn't.

Back on the training pitch, they were running shooting drills, but Trent's mind kept drifting to last night - to leather outfits and spiced vanilla and promises that made his head spin. Tyler's text didn't help his concentration either.

Tyler: Just seen the raw shots from April

Tyler: These are INSANE bruv

Tyler: Proper art these

Tyler: Even Virgil's gonna be jealous

"Trent!" Slot's voice cut through his thoughts. "That cross was nowhere near Darwin. Focus!"

The afternoon session dragged on, his mind a mess of tactical instructions and April's text messages. By the time they hit the showers, he was ready to bolt.

"Oi Trent!" Dom called over the noise of the changing room. Robbo was telling some mad story about his kid's hamster while everyone rinsed Darwin's new haircut. "Few of us heading to that new spot in town. You in?"

"Can't, got plans."

"Plans?" Dom's eyebrows shot up. "You feeling alright mate?"

"Just busy innit."

In his car, he pulled up Google, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Female dominatrix. BDSM basics.

He should probably know what he was getting into, right? But just seeing those words made his face heat up.

He closed the browser.

The private clinic was one of those discrete places footballers used when they needed things handled quietly. He pulled his hood up, slipped his sunglasses on despite the grey sky threatening snow.

The waiting room was dead quiet - just him and some girl staring at her phone like it held the secrets of the universe. The paperwork they handed him felt like an interrogation:

Last sexual encounter? 5 weeks ago. Sophie. Just head though - does that even count? Better write it down just in case.

Number of partners in last 6 months? Sophie mostly. Plus that one night with some random during their "break"...so 2?

Previous STI tests? Team physical, but... yeah, him and Sophie weren't exactly careful those last few times. When she'd show up at his place at 2am talking about "missing him"...

Speaking of Sophie - better block her now. She always came sniffing around when she was bored, wanting to "talk things through." Couldn't have her messing up whatever this thing with April might be.

His thumb hovered over Sophie's profile. All those couple photos, playing perfect power couple for the cameras. Delete. Block.

What even was this thing with April? She still had his photo contract to finish - at least one more shoot. Then this... arrangement. But would they be properly dating? Did dominatrixes even do relationships?

The thought of her with other guys made his jaw clench. Having them kneel for her, call her Madam, letting her mark them up like she'd done to him...

"Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

The nurse's voice yanked him back. She handed him a plastic cup once they arrived at his examination room. "Just need a sample. Then change into the gown - opens at the back."

Fucking hell. These paper gowns were proper violation. Might as well be naked.

His phone lit up as he struggled with the paper gown ties.

April: Can't wait to ruin you properly.

His hands weren't exactly steady as he typed back.

Trent: Just you though yeah?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

April: Jealous already?

April: Don't worry pretty boy.

April: You'll be more than enough to handle.

Something in his chest loosened. Before he could reply, there was a knock.

"Ready Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: Besides...

April: When I’m done with you, you won't want anyone else.

Thank god for paper gowns hiding what that message did to him.

The doctor was middle-aged with kind eyes that probably seen everything. She went through her questions quick while Trent tried not to die of embarrassment.

"Sexually active?"

"Yeah."

"Multiple partners?"

"Not recently."

"Any symptoms?"

"No."

"Using protection?"

"Usually." His face burned thinking about April's no-condom rule.

Blood drawn, swabs taken, more questions that had him squirming in that paper gown. The doctor didn't even blink when he mentioned getting tested for a new partner.

"Results in 48 hours," she said, already typing in her computer. "We'll send them directly to your phone. Any questions?"

About a million, but none he wanted to ask a doctor old enough to be his mother.

His phone buzzed as he changed back into his clothes.

April: All done with my tests.

April: Been a while since I've had someone new to train.

He nearly dropped his phone.

Trent: Train?

Trent: Like a dog?

April: More like a pet project 😈

April: But if you're into puppy play...

What the actual fuck was puppy play?

No, don't Google that. Some things you can't unsee.

April: Just teasing.

April: Though you would look good in a collar.

His brain short-circuited completely.

The drive home was a blur of overthinking. What had he gotten himself into? This was fucking crazy - him, Trent Alexander-Arnold, about to let some photographer he barely knew take complete control of him. Do things to him he'd only seen in dodgy porn videos late at night when he couldn't sleep.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? He did know her, in a way that felt deeper than knowing someone's favorite color or what they did on weekends. She saw right through him from that first night at the bar. Saw past the footballer façade, past the scouse wonderkid image, right to the part of him that wanted... this.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: Having second thoughts?

April: We can always keep things professional.

April: Though that would be such a waste...

Trent: No second thoughts.

Trent: Just nervous I guess.

April: Good.

April: A little fear makes things interesting.

April: But remember...

April: I'll never do anything you don't want.

April: You just might not know you want it yet.

Christ.

By the time he got home, his head was spinning with possibilities. Things he'd never even considered before. Never allowed himself to think about.

April: Sweet dreams pretty boy.

April: 48 hours.

April: Then the real fun begins.

He fell into bed still fully dressed, mind racing with what exactly April had planned for him.

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: And remember...

April: No touching.

April: I'll know if you do.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours.

The results hit his phone during morning training. All clear. He couldn't send them to April fast enough.

Her results came through minutes later - a screenshot showing her own clean bill of health. His eyes caught on her details at the top of the form:

GOODPLENTY, APRIL TANISHA-MARLEY

DOB: 14/11/1997

Scorpio. Of course she was a fucking Scorpio. That explained... well, everything really. Most freaky sign in the zodiac, according to that astrology stuff his sister-in-law was always on about.

April: Dinner tonight? Need to chat.

April: I'm in Manchester seeing a friend but I'll be around after.

His stomach twisted. What friend in Manchester?

Trent: Yeah sounds good.

Was this it then? Would tonight be when they... His mind wandered to leather outfits and commands and that room on the third floor.

Training couldn't end fast enough. He was walking out with Ibou and Virgil, both of them cracking up at a video of Virgil's youngest "terrorizing" their German Shepherd, when a whistle cut through the air.

All three men stopped dead.

There she was, leaning against a red Ferrari like some Sons of Anarchy fantasy come to life. Leather motorcycle jacket, skin-tight pants that should've been illegal, and Doc Martens. Her curls were going mental in the January wind.

"Is that you, T?" Ibou's voice was shaking with barely contained laughter as he pointed at April.

"Yeah." He couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

Virgil smiled - actually smiled. "I like her."

Coming from his captain, that was massive. Virgil hadn't rated any girl Trent had been seeing lately.

"Come on you scouse! We're gonna be late!" April called out, smacking her gum like she owned the place.

"Oh I like her a lot," Virgil nodded. "This why you've been smiling lately?"

Well yeah, that... and other things.

"Uh..."

"Look at him, he cannot talk!" Ibou laughed, nudging Virgil's shoulder. "Let's say hi to her."

Before Trent could stop them, they were practically sprinting over to April. He watched, frozen, as she shook their hands with that easy confidence of hers, somehow making his teammates look like excited puppies.

By the time he made his way over, they were chatting like old mates. He cleared his throat, but Virgil and Ibou's dopey grins told him the whole team would know about this by tonight. Their group chat was probably already blowing up.

April shot him a look that made his stomach drop.

Oh fuck.

Was he in trouble?

"Bout time," she said, voice carrying that edge he was starting to recognize. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah."

"Good. What about Almost Famous?"

"Sounds good." His eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. The fuck was wrong with him?

"I could use a milkshake too actually," April said, turning back to Virgil and Ibou. "Nice meeting you guys. Thank you for making me feel so welcomed."

"Of course, April," Virgil said, smile genuine. "You should stop by for a match."

"Oh well–"

"You should come watch us kick Lille's ass!" Ibou practically bounced.

Trent shot him a 'what the hell' look, but April just flashed that devil's grin of hers.

"I would love to, but I have to check my schedule."

Ibou actually cheered - proper full-volume celebration - before they headed off to their cars, leaving Trent and April alone.

"I like your teammates, they're sweet."

"Listen, you don't have to–"

"You want to drive it?" She interrupted, dangling the Ferrari keys. His hand reached out automatically because fuck yeah, who wouldn't want to drive that?

She pulled them back. "You haven't been touching yourself, have you?"

"No."

Her eyebrows raised. "No...?"

"Ma'am... madam," he spluttered.

"Ma'am works too, you know." She chuckled. "Good boy. You get your reward."

The keys dropped into his palm, and Trent had never felt happier.

Though something told him this was just the start of April's rewards... and her punishments.

His Range Rover could stay in the Anfield parking lot - he'd grab it later. Right now, all he could think about was the Ferrari's engine purring to life under his hands.

"She likes to be handled firmly," April said as he pulled out onto the main road. Her hand found his thigh as he hit the accelerator, testing what this thing could do.

The engine growled as he shifted gears, probably breaking about six traffic laws. But with April's hand on his thigh and that much power under him? Worth it.

"You like it?" she asked, watching his face as he revved the engine.

"Yeah–" His answer dissolved into something embarrassingly close to a squeak as her hand squeezed his inner thigh, coming dangerously close to touching his hardening dick.

"It's the power, huh? Does things to you. Endorphins. Adrenaline." Her voice had gone low and dangerous. "Makes you feel alive."

He focused on the road, desperately trying to ignore how the rest of him was feeling. The Ferrari responded to every touch like it was made for him, but April's hand on his thigh was making it hard to keep it together.

"Have you ever gotten head while driving?"

Jesus motherfucking Christ.

"No ma'am." His voice came out steadier than he felt.

"Interesting." She removed her hand and he could finally breathe again. "Something to think about."

The rest of the drive was torture - April alternating between casual chat about football and comments that made his brain short-circuit. By the time they pulled into Almost Famous, he wasn't sure if he was hungry for food or... something else.

The hostess led them to a corner booth, April sliding in, her leather jacket came off, revealing a crop top that had his mouth going dry.

"So," she said once they were settled. "Ground rules."

He nearly choked on his water. "Here?"

"Where better?" That devil's smile again. "Nobody's paying attention to us. We can talk freely."

She wasn't wrong. The place was busy, music playing, everyone focused on their own conversations.

"First rule - honesty. Always. If something's too much, you tell me. If you want something, you ask for it."

He nodded, trying to look like they were having a normal dinner conversation.

"Second - you follow my commands without question. In and out of the bedroom."

His face felt hot. "Like the no touching thing?"

"Exactly. Good boy for following that, by the way." The praise shouldn't have affected him like it did. "Third - you're mine. Exclusively. No other girls, no hookups, nothing without my permission."

Something in his chest tightened. "What about you?"

"Jealous again?" She smirked. "Don't worry pretty boy. I won’t have other toys to play with."

Christ.

"Questions?"

About a million, but their waitress chose that moment to appear. April ordered for both of them - some fancy burger for him that wasn't even on the menu, two cookies and cream milkshakes, and sweet potato fries that she said they'd share.

Once the waitress left, April leaned forward. "You're thinking too hard. I can see it on your face."

"Just... what are we? Like, outside of all this?"

"We're whatever we want to be. The dom/sub thing? That's just one part."

"You'll be coming to my matches?"

"If you want me there." She tilted her head. "Though I might make you earn it."

His imagination went wild with possibilities.

"Focus," she smirked. "Food first. Then maybe... if you're good... we can find out what that Ferrari can really do."

The look she gave him promised all sorts of trouble.

And fuck him if he wasn't ready for all of it.

Their food arrived - his burger looking like something that should be in a museum, milkshakes piled high with whipped cream, and her sweet potato fries arranged in a basket. She pushed the fries between them, a clear invitation to share.

"So like," he started, trying to sound casual, "what more should we do? Outside of... you know."

April's eyes lit up with amusement. "You really want the girlfriend experience, don't you?”

He took a long sip of his milkshake instead of answering.

"You have to answer me." Her voice carried that edge again.

"Just feels weird, doesn't it? Doing all this freaky stuff behind closed doors but nothing outside of it. Doesn't feel right."

April rolled her eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck. "I usually don't date my toys. More of the have fun then go our separate ways type of girl."

"What if I'm a real good boy?" He reached for her hand, giving her his best pleading look - the one that usually got him out of extra training. "I'll do anything you want, ma'am."

"Oh... look at you acting like a sub."

"Is it working?"

She pulled her hand away, but he caught the hint of a smile. "You made my heart soften a little, I'll give you that. But I still need convincing."

"I can be proper convincing." He ate one of the fries.

"Eat your burger before it gets cold."

The burger was actually delicious - whatever she'd ordered for him was perfect. They fell into easy conversation between bites, talking about everything and nothing.

"So what friend were you seeing in Manchester?" He tried to sound casual.

"Jealous again?" She took a fry from the basket. "Old uni mate. She's a photographer too."

"Just a friend?"

"Getting possessive already?" But her eyes softened slightly. "Yes, just a friend. Though..." that devilish smile returned, "she did teach me a few interesting techniques back in the day."

His brain short-circuited again.

"You're too easy to wind up," she laughed. "But seriously - this thing between us? It only works with trust. Complete trust."

"I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I know a lot to trust you on." He met her eyes. "Know you see me. The real me, not just..." he gestured vaguely at himself.

"TAA, Liverpool's golden boy?" She reached over, wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth. The gesture felt strangely intimate. "Yeah, I see you. That's what makes this interesting."

"So..."

"So maybe," she sighed dramatically, "we can do normal stuff too. But don't think that means I'll go soft on you."

His whole body felt warm. "Wouldn't want that."

"No?" She leaned forward, voice dropping low. "What do you want then?"

Everything. Anything. Whatever she was willing to give him.

"Want to be yours." The words came out before he could stop them. "Properly yours."

Something flashed in her eyes - something that made his heart race. "Careful what you wish for, pretty boy. Once I properly claim something... I don't let go easily."

"Good."

They finished their food in charged silence, both aware of the shift that had just happened. This wasn't just about sex anymore. This was... something else entirely.

"Should get you back to your car," she said finally, but her eyes promised more. "Early training tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah but..." He hesitated. "When will I see you again?"

"Miss me already?" She stood up, sliding her leather jacket back on. "Thursday night, after the match. My place. Pack a bag - you're staying over."

His stomach did about sixteen flips.

"And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear something... accessible."

Christ.

As they walked back to the Ferrari, her hand found the small of his back. A casual touch that somehow felt more possessive than anything they'd done before.

He was so fucked.

And he couldn't wait.

The bench at Anfield was freezing, but Trent barely felt it. Ibou kept nudging him every time he checked his phone, teasing him about his "hot date" later. The rest of the lads had been giving him knowing looks all day - seems like the Ferrari incident had made its way through the group chat faster than Mo on a counter-attack.

When Mandi got sent off for that mental tackle on Darwin in the 23rd minute, the whole stadium erupted. Mo's goal in the 34th minute was pure poetry, the kind of finish that reminded everyone why he was still the king. The way he sent their keeper the wrong way before kicking it in the bottom corner? Magic.

Harvey's goal in the 67th was just showing off really, leaving three Lille players for dead before curling it in. Kid was having the season of his life, and Trent couldn't help but grin watching him celebrate with the Kop. Reminded him of himself at that age - all raw talent and pure joy.

Slot finally called him over in the 80th minute, just as the "We are Liverpool" chants started rolling through the stadium. "Quick touches, control the game," was all he said before sending Trent on.

Fifteen minutes of football had never gone by so fast. Every touch, every pass felt automatic - his mind already somewhere else, in a flat in East London with a girl who'd scrambled his brain.

He was out of the stadium like his ass was on fire, barely stopping to high five the kids by the tunnel. A few of the lads tried calling him back for post-match analysis, but he was gone before they could finish saying his name.

His bag was already packed - had been since morning if he was honest - but he triple-checked everything anyway. Clothes for tomorrow, training kit, toiletries. Felt weird packing an overnight bag for… whatever this was going to be.

Train was quicker than driving, even if it meant going full 'mandem' with the Moncler puffer, boots, and balaclava. The platform at Lime Street was packed with match-day crowds heading home, but not one person recognized him. Amazing what a bit of roadman fashion could do.

April kept sending him pictures that had his face burning behind the balaclava. Each one more suggestive than the last - close-ups of leather straps, silk ties, things that made his imagination run wild.

April: Hope you're ready for tonight. April: Been shopping. April: Got some new toys to try out.

Christ.

He tried to focus on anything else - the landscape flying past the window, the couple arguing about pizza toppings across the aisle, the kid playing some game with the volume too high. But his mind kept wandering to what was waiting for him in London.

April: Almost here? April: Getting impatient… April: Don't make me start without you.

The tube to her place felt endless. Had to change twice, studying the map like some tourist. East London looked different at night - all neon lights and people heading to bars, different vibe than Liverpool. More edge to it, like everyone was playing a part in some urban drama.

Her building looked the same though, all exposed brick and industrial lighting. The converted warehouse vibe felt fitting somehow - like April herself, a mix of rough edges and expensive taste.

The doorman - different one from last time, younger with a knowing smile - held the door open without asking for ID. Guess he was expected. Trent yanked off his balaclava in the lift, trying to sort his hair out in the reflection. The concrete floors echoed his footsteps as he walked down that familiar hallway.

His knuckles had barely touched her door when it swung open.

There she was, holding that cat like some Bond villain. Pussy Galore gave him what felt like a judgmental meow, like she remembered him from last time and wasn't impressed.

"Look who finally made it," April smirked, looking him up and down like she was deciding where to start. Her curls were wilder than usual, like she'd been running her hands through them. "Ready to earn your reward?"

Something in her tone made his stomach flip. Whatever was about to happen in this flat - whatever she had planned for him - there was no going back after tonight.

The flat looked the same as last time - art everywhere, books stacked on surfaces, that vintage record player spinning something low and jazzy. But now there were… additions on the dining table. Things that made his throat go dry - leather cuffs in different sizes, silk ties in black and red, something that looked expensive and slightly terrifying that he couldn't quite identify.

"Sit," she nodded toward the sofa.

He sat. She settled next to him, and he finally properly looked at her outfit. No leather dominatrix gear tonight - instead, she wore this soft-looking robe with lace details at the sleeves and hem. Proper feminine. Different. The silk looked expensive, catching the light when she moved.

"Cute, isn't it?" she caught his stare. "Not my usual thing, but I thought something to ease you in."

"I-I love it."

She chuckled at his stammering. Pussy Galore chose that moment to insert herself between them, tail wrapping around her body as she fixed Trent with those unsettling yellow eyes. Like she was judging his worthiness or something.

"I've emailed you something," April said casually, reaching out to scratch behind Pussy's ears.

"What?"

"Well, it's from my lawyer." She gestured to his phone like this was completely normal. "Have a look."

Sure enough, there it was in his inbox. A legal document titled "Arrangement Agreement and Terms" with real letterhead and everything. Mad how official it looked.

His eyes scanned the contents, face getting hotter with each section. Under "Dominant's Preferences" was a list that made his imagination run wild:

Bondage (rope, silk, leather)

Impact play

Marking/biting

Sensory deprivation

Temperature play

Edging/Orgasm control

Discipline/punishment

Creampies/Breeding

Under "Submissive's Interests" were things he'd mentioned, plus some he'd only hinted at:

Choking

Being marked

Light bondage

Following commands

Praise/reward

Being controlled

Light pain play

Breeding

Edging/Orgasm Control

Voyeurism

Light cock and ball torture (CBT)

Light degradation

There was a whole section about their mutual kinks and boundaries, with a note about only exploring new territory after explicit discussion and consent. Everything was laid out in legal language, like some mad corporate merger.

Then came their promises to each other. Hers as a dom - to always respect limits, provide aftercare, maintain open communication, ensure safe play, check in regularly about comfort levels. His as a sub - to be honest about his needs, follow her rules, use their agreed safe word if needed, communicate any discomfort or concerns immediately.

But it was the appendix titled "The Girlfriend Experience" that almost made him laugh out loud. Trust April to turn dating into a proper contract.

TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT:

Match attendance: Maximum 10 per season (choose wisely)

Holidays: 2 annual trips (Alexander-Arnold responsible for all expenses including accommodation, flights, meals, and excursions)

Social engagements: 6 meetings/hangouts with friends (recent Virgil/Ibou encounter not included)

PDA: Only with mutual consent and within established boundaries

Family/loved ones meetings: 2 maximum (if required/requested)

Public appearances: Subject to prior discussion and approval

Social media: No obligation to appear in or acknowledge posts

Media coverage: No comment on relationship status if asked

Duration: One year from signing, unless terminated early due to:

Loss of interest from either party

Infidelity

Breach of contract terms

Violation of established boundaries

Mutual agreement to end arrangement

Additional notes:

All activities to remain private and confidential

Both parties retain right to terminate at any time

Regular review of terms/boundaries every 3 months

Modification of terms requires mutual written agreement

Professional relationship takes precedence over personal

"Well?" April's voice cut through his reading. "Questions?"

The overachiever in him wanted to read every clause. The footballer in him wanted to know how she'd calculated exactly 10 matches for the entire season, did this include international breaks? But mostly, he just wanted to know…

"Did you really get a lawyer to draw this up?"

"Of course." She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Everything I do is professional."

"Even this?" He gestured between them.

"Especially this." Her voice dropped lower. "I take very good care of my toys, Trent. But I also make sure everyone knows exactly what they're getting into."

After reading through every clause twice, Trent clicked the signature box and signed his name. His phone made that little whoosh sound of an email sending, like he'd just signed for a transfer instead of a sexual arrangement.

April's phone pinged. She clapped her hands together, face lighting up. Then something shifted in her expression - her whole demeanor changing in an instant.

"Great." Her voice dropped into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Now we can get started. Strip to your boxers."

His hands moved before his brain could catch up, tugging off his clothes until he stood there in just his Calvin Kleins, feeling more exposed than he did in just a towel in the locker room.

"Kneel." She demonstrated the position with fluid grace - back straight, hands resting palms down on thighs, head bowed slightly. "Like this. Shoulders back, chin down."

He copied her, surprised by how natural it felt. Like his body had been waiting for these instructions all along.

"Perfect," she murmured, and something in his chest warmed at the praise. "We need a safe word," she continued, circling him slowly. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor. "Something you'll remember even when you're… distracted."

"Anfield?"

She laughed - a real laugh, not her dom voice. "Of course that's what you'd pick. Proper footballer through and through." Her fingers brushed his shoulder, feather-light. "Anfield it is. Use it anytime you need to stop or slow down. No questions asked, no judgment."

His knees were starting to ache against the hardwood floor, but something about the position, about following her commands… it settled something in him he hadn't known needed settling. Like finally exhaling after holding his breath too long.

"Come to the bedroom."

He started to stand.

"Did I tell you to walk?"

His stomach flipped. "No ma'am."

"Good. Crawl."

He followed her down the hallway on hands and knees, feeling slightly mental but also… right? Weird how good it felt, taking orders from someone nearly a foot shorter than him. Like his body knew something his brain was still figuring out.

Maybe this was what he'd been looking for all along - someone to take the weight of control off his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

Her bedroom was a bit different too - candles everywhere, giving everything a soft glow. The sheets were changed - black silk instead of the white cotton from New Year's. Some of those toys from the dining room table had made their way here, arranged neatly on her dresser.

"Stop there," she commanded when he reached the foot of the bed. "Kneel up, hands behind your back."

His body responded automatically. Mental how quickly he was learning.

"Good boy." Her fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her eyes. "You're a natural at this."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Already so polite." She circled him slowly, fingertips trailing across his shoulders. "Sure you've never done this before?"

"Never."

"Mmm." She stopped behind him, so close he could smell that spiced vanilla. "Tell me how it feels."

"Different," he managed. "But good. Really good."

"Using your words like a good boy." Her hand found the nape of his neck, gripping just tight enough to make him gasp. "But I think you can do better than that."

"Makes me feel… free?" The words tumbled out. "Like I don't have to be in control all the time."

"There it is." She released his neck, moving back into his line of sight. "That's what I saw in you that first night. All that pressure, all that control… sometimes you just need to let it go, don't you?"

He nodded, throat tight.

"Words, pretty boy."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She smiled - that dangerous smile that had his heart racing. "Now… let's see just how well you follow instructions."

April moved to the dresser, picking up one of the silk ties. "Close your eyes."

The silk was cool against his skin as she wrapped it around his eyes, tying it with practiced ease.

"Can't have you thinking too much," she murmured. "You footballers are always in your heads."

Without sight, everything felt heightened - the brush of her fingers, the sound of her movements, that spiced vanilla scent growing stronger as she leaned close.

"What's your safe word?"

"Anfield, ma'am."

"Good boy." Her voice came from behind him now. "Hands out in front."

Something soft - another silk tie - wrapped around his wrists. Not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in control.

"How does that feel?"

"Good." His voice sounded different to his own ears. Rougher.

"Tell me properly."

"Good, ma'am."

"Better." Her hand found his neck again, sending shivers down his spine.

The next hour was a blur of sensations - silk against skin, April's voice guiding him through positions, praising him when he followed perfectly, correcting him when he didn't. Nothing too intense, nothing that pushed too far, but enough to leave him breathless.

"You're a natural submissive," she said later, removing the blindfold. "Like you were made for this."

Maybe he was. Maybe all those years of being in control, of carrying everyone's expectations… maybe this was what he'd needed all along.

April placed the silk ties back on her dresser with that same precision she brought to everything. Each movement deliberate, calculated.

"Want to continue?" Her voice had that edge again, the one that made his skin tingle.

"Yes ma'am."

"On the bed then." Not a request - a command.

He moved his body to the center of her bed, those black silk sheets cool against his heated skin. His heart was hammering now, watching as she shed that lace robe to reveal her naked body. She was way more beautiful than what he'd imagined - soft toffee-colored skin, heavy breasts that will fit perfectly in his hands, stomach taut, and wide hips leading to a bare vagina. Her clitoris peeked out between her labia lips and he was in awe at how wet she already was.

The mattress dipped as she crawled toward him with that predatory grace of hers. When she straddled him, the world narrowed to just this - April above him, curls wild, eyes dangerous.

April’s nails dragged lightly over his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Trent’s breath hitched, the anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. She sat back on his thighs, her hips pressing down just enough to remind him of her authority.

"You like what you see, Trent?" Her voice was low, teasing, a challenge in every syllable.

"Yes, ma’am." His response came without hesitation, his voice husky with need.

"Good." Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made his pulse race.

April leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as her fingers traced the waistband of his boxers. She didn’t rush. Instead, she took her time, savoring his reactions — the way his body tensed, the way his hands clenched into the sheets, the way his eyes stayed locked on hers.

"You’ll learn something tonight," she murmured, her lips hovering near his ear. "Every touch, every sound, every movement — it's mine to give. Understood?"

"Yes, ma’am."

She kissed him then, soft at first, before her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. The sharpness made him gasp, and she took advantage, deepening the kiss, her tongue slithering inside his mouth. Her hands explored his chest, her nails scraping lightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Her lips left his mouth, trailing down his jawline to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He shivered, her name tumbling from his lips in a whisper.

She pulled back, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Good boy," she murmured, her approval making his chest swell.

April’s hands moved lower, her fingers teasing his nipples. She shifted her hips, her bare skin brushing against him, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.

"You’re doing so well for me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But we’re just getting started."

Trent swallowed hard, his entire focus on the woman before him. The world outside faded away. There was only April, and her deliberate, intoxicating control.

Her nails danced down his abdomen, and Trent’s breath came in shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her and the maddeningly slow path she was taking. She paused at the waistband of his boxers again, her fingers slipping just beneath the fabric.

"You’re trembling," she observed, her lips quirking into that dangerous smirk.

"You’re making it hard not to," he admitted, his voice rough with restrained need.

"Good." She tugged at his boxers, but not enough to pull them down. Instead, she let them snap back into place, her laugh low and sultry when he groaned in frustration.

"Do you want these off, Trent?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, almost a plea.

She arched a brow, sitting back slightly, her hands still resting on his hips. "You’ll need to ask properly."

"Please," he said, meeting her gaze. "Please take them off."

The corner of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. "That’s better."

Finally, she slid the fabric down, exposing him inch by excruciating inch. Her eyes never left his face, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed it — anticipation, nervousness, pure want.

When the boxers were gone, she took her time, running her fingers along his thighs and deliberately avoiding where he wanted her touch most. His hips jerked involuntarily, and she pressed them back down with firm hands.

"Patience," she chided, her voice smooth as silk.

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stomach, just below his navel. Then another, lower this time. Her lips were soft, teasing, a contrast to the sharpness of her nails grazing his skin. Trent’s fingers twisted in the sheets, every nerve in his body lighting up under her touch.

"April," he breathed, his voice strained.

"Shh," she murmured against his skin. "I’m enjoying myself."

Her kisses trailed further, her breath warm against him, but she stopped just shy of where he ached for her. Her tongue flicked out, tracing lazy patterns along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh instead.

"Do you like this?" she asked, her voice a mix of sweet and sinful.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his voice a rough whisper.

She hummed in satisfaction, her nails scraping lightly along his hipbones. "You’re doing so well for me, Trent," she murmured, her words washing over him like a reward.

April’s control was absolute, her teasing calculated, and Trent was helpless against the storm she was creating. Every touch, every kiss was a well thought move, driving him further toward the edge while keeping him firmly in her grasp.

Her lips and tongue worked him into a frenzy that felt almost otherworldly. Every time he thought she would give him the relief he so desperately craved, she pulled back, her chuckle low and devastating. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails scraping lightly against sensitive skin, grounding him in the moment even as he floated further away from reason.

When her lips finally wrapped around him to take him fully, Trent’s head fell back, his own lips parting in a silent gasp of gratitude. But his reverie was short-lived. His gaze flicked forward, and that’s when he saw it.

The mirror.

He hadn’t noticed it before, perfectly placed in front of the bed like it had been waiting for this moment. From his vantage point, the reflection offered a full, unfiltered view of April — bent over him, her curls wild, her body a vision of soft, supple curves. And below, her bare pussy glistening with her arousal, catching the dim light like a beacon. Her clitoris was engorged and directly in his view. It was pretty – just like the rest of her and he wanted a taste so badly.

"Ma’am…" he whimpered, his voice breaking.

She didn’t stop. If anything, his reaction seemed to spur her on. Her hands gripped his testicles, firm but careful, the pressure igniting something primal within him.

"You like seeing how my pussy looks, Trent?" she asked, her voice sultry, tinged with just the right amount of mockery to make his face burn.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his breath hitching. "You’re so beautiful."

"I know I am," she replied, her confidence rolling over him like a tidal wave. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, her gaze locking him in place. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, the words tumbling out of him without hesitation.

"Do you want to be buried deep inside of me?"

"Y-yes, ma’am."

"What about cumming, Trent?" Her tone was almost sweet now, like she was asking about his favorite dessert. "Are you going to cum inside me?"

Holy. Hell. On. Earth.

His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought to find his voice. "Y-yes, ma’am," he stammered, his whole body trembling under her touch.

April’s smirk deepened, her satisfaction evident. "Good," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "Because I plan to take everything you’ve got. Every. Single. Drop."

She moved away from him, leaving him to catch his breath — or so he thought. The cool air brushing over his heated skin was the briefest of reprieves before she swung a leg over him, straddling his waist.

Trent barely had time to react before she reached down, gripping him at the base with practiced ease. His dick throbbed in her hand, her touch enough to make his hips jerk instinctively. She lined herself up, teasing him with her warmth, and then she sank down, taking him inch by inch.

He let out a guttural groan, the sensation of her tight, wet heat engulfing him nearly overwhelming. She was so snug, so perfect, that for a moment, he wondered if this was some kind of divine punishment for sins he hadn’t even committed yet.

April didn’t wait for him to adjust. She started to move, her hips rolling with deliberate precision, the bed creaking beneath them in time with her thrusts. Trent’s hands hovered uselessly at his sides. Usually, he’d hold a woman’s waist, guide her movements, but with April, he hesitated. She was in charge, and he wasn’t about to ruin this. Not now.

Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through him, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself in check. He was already so pent-up from her rules, from not touching himself for a week, that every second felt like torture and bliss all rolled into one.

"Open your eyes," April commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of his pleasure.

He obeyed immediately, lifting his gaze to meet hers. She looked devastating — wild curls framing her flushed face, lips parted as she rode him with unrelenting purpose.

"You feel so good, you know that?" she asked, her voice low and almost tender.

He nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

"Use your fucking words," she said, slowing her movements to an infuriating crawl.

"Thank you, ma’am," he breathed. "You feel good too."

"I do?"

"Yes, ma’am."

Her smirk widened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Then let me know how good this pussy feels."

He stumbled over his words at first, but the more he spoke, the easier it got. He listed everything — how tight she was, how warm, how wet. How he’d dreamed about this moment, and now that it was happening, it was better than he’d ever imagined. How badly he wanted to cum inside her.

April’s movements grew erratic, her nails digging into his chest as she ground against him with reckless abandon. Trent was right there on the edge, the familiar coil in his stomach tightening with every thrust.

"Look at that," she teased, her voice breathy. "You’re gonna cum?"

"Yes, ma’am," he choked out, his body twitching beneath her.

"Hold it," she said sharply, her hips still rolling. "I’m not done with you yet."

Fucking hell.

"Please, ma’am," he begged, his voice raw. It had been too long, and he was still new to this. How could she expect him to hold back when she was doing everything in her power to drive him insane?

And then it happened. His body betrayed him, the coil snapping as he spilled into her with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

April slowed to a stop, her expression shifting as she looked down at him. The pleasure that had softened her features just moments ago was replaced with a look of utter disdain.

"I told you not to cum," she said, her tone icy.

"I’m sorry, ma’am," Trent whispered, letting out a shaky exhale as he felt some of his cum leak out of her pussy to trail down his length. "I’m so sorry."

Her face hardened, her voice cutting through his apology. "No more apologies, Trent," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she added, "Now, you get to have your first punishment."

Training felt different with April's marks hidden under his kit. Every movement reminded him of last night - how she'd punished him for cumming without permission in round one ("Bad boys need to learn control," she'd purred before denying him release in round two), the way she'd marked him as hers with teeth and nails. His "homework assignment" was still ringing in his ears: practice edging, get better at control, earn his next reward.

His skin was a map of their night - bite marks scattered across his chest, scratches down his back from when he'd finally earned his release, bruises from her grip when he'd tried to rush things. Each mark a reminder of how she'd taken him apart piece by piece, only putting him back together when he'd properly begged for it.

He kept checking his phone between drills. Nothing from April yet. Was she disappointed? Had his lack of control put her off?

Tyler's texts were going mental though:

Tyler: Bruv these photos are INSANE Tyler: Timeline's gone crazy Tyler: Look at these quotes 😭

The thirst tweets were something else: "Trent Alexander-Arnold looking like a SNACK" "Whoever suggested this shoot deserves a raise" "Those EYES though 👀"

When Slot called time on training, every muscle in Trent's body was aching - and not just from football. April hadn't exactly been gentle after he'd disobeyed her first command about waiting for permission.

The changing room was rowdy as usual, everyone taking the piss about his photos. He tried stripping off carefully, but winced as the fabric caught on the deeper scratches - the ones she'd left when he'd earned his third release after what felt like hours of teasing.

"Yo what the FUCK?" Ibou's voice carried across the room. "Your back brother!"

Too late to hide the evidence - bite marks, nail tracks, proper artwork of them. Some still angry red, others already turning purple.

"Shit bruv," Darwin whistled. "She's wild!"

"Proper freaky one you've got there!"

"Lucky bastard!"

"Trent's finally found someone to put him in his place!" Robbo called out, cackling.

"Nah but for real," Curtis grinned, "she must be something special. Man's got a proper glow about him."

"More like proper marks about him," Joe added, making everyone howl.

"Oi," Trent cut in, something protective flaring up. "Show some respect yeah?"

"Aww, look at him defending his girl's honor," Robbo teased. "She got you proper whipped already?"

You have no idea, Trent thought, but said nothing.

"Please tell me she's coming to the PSV match," Ibou said. "Need to see the woman who's turned our Trent into a lovesick puppy."

"I'm not–"

"Mate," Mo cut in with that knowing smile of his, "you've been checking your phone every two minutes waiting for her text."

More laughter, more jokes of exaggerated cat noises and pretending to scratch each other. Even Virgil was grinning, which was rare enough to make Trent's face heat up more.

In the shower, hot water stinging his marked skin, Trent couldn't help grinning. Let them joke. They had no idea what April was really like - how she could switch from dominatrix to soft girl in seconds, how she'd held him after everything, whispering praise until he fell asleep.

His phone buzzed as he was getting dressed.

April: Been practicing your edging? April: Good boys get rewards… April: Bad boys get denied again.

Fucking hell.

.................tbd

[hitomisuzuya]

Sleepy Sex with Aventurine… 🙏

I love him so much I think he would enjoy that kind of thing, early mornings, on a day when both you and him aren’t busy.. just laying together in basking in the light glow of the morning sunlight and what a better way to wake up than having morning sex…

If that makes any sense LOL

Anyways I love your writing and I hope you’re doing well reading this!!! 🩵

aventurine x fem!reader. soft smut. morning sex. fluffy.

i was smiling the whole time i wrote this.❤️ i love the way this request was worded🥺

when you opened your eyes in morning, you were quite sure you were waking up next to an angel. but even as that thought crossed your mind, you knew that aventurine would put even the most beautiful angel to shame with just one look.

at some point during the night, he'd rolled over onto his back, an arm still around you tucking you against him. both of you were still very much naked from the night before, your body littered with aventurine's bite marks of frenzied passion.

you adjusted yourself so you could lean up and place a few soft kisses on his neck. a few moments later, aventurine's hypnotic multicolored eyes opened. smiling sleepily, he put a hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair idly.

you returned his smile as the sun beam filtered further into the room. "morning," you greeted, "the sun beam decided to come further into the room because you woke up. it wanted to bask you in it's warmth."

aventurine's soft laugh sounded sleepy as he turned over on his side, bringing your forehead to rest against his. "the sun beam was telling me to move out of your light."

you gently nuzzled your forehead on his. "no, there is no way it was telling you that. besides, my hair is probably a real mess," you giggled.

"nonsense," he replied, kissing you once before continuing, putting a hand on your cheek and skimming his thumb gently across it, "you look more beautiful than even lady luck is," he stole away any other words of praise you would've had for him with another kiss.

you opened your mouth for his tongue, sighing softly into his mouth. soft silk sheets brushed on your skin, moving closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

the intimacy of kissing always made aventurine hard. the soft feeling of your lips on his, the noises you were making from the pleasure of having his lips against yours, his fingers combing through your hair as he explored your mouth.

you blushed feeling his growing erection poking against your thigh. you reached under the blankets, brushing your knuckles up and down his cock before wrapping your hand around it. aventurine let out shaky sighs, rutting into your hand as you pumped and stroked his cock.

you massaged your thumb around his cockhead, drawing soft, sleepy moans from him as he pulled away, his lips hovering over yours. he rested his forehead against yours again, his body trembling a little, enjoying the pumping sensation of your hand on his cock.

"i need to be inside of you now," he murmured, kissing you again. you rolled over so he could move on top of, spreading your legs to accommodate him. he chuckled sleepily feeling your juices immediately wet his cock. "wet already for me," he stole your lips into another passionate kiss, marveling at the sweet way you melted into him.

you wrapped your arms around him, deepening the kiss as you grinded against him. his cock pulsed between your folds. his teasing was true. jacking him off, watching his beautiful face contort with pleasure, listening to him sleepily moan. all of it made you very wet.

aventurine didn't believe in wasting a winning hand when it was dealt. caging you in with his hands at the sides of your head, he slowly pushed his cock inside. your pussy stretched tight and perfect, like it was made to take his cock.

his teeth nipped at your lower lip with a sleepy, satisfied groan as his cock sank into the warmth of your cunt. pulling away, he let you breathe for only a few moments to hear your moan of pleasure as he bottomed out before stealing your lips up in another deep, open mouthed kiss.

the way your pussy clenched on his cock made his whole body quake with pleasure. the long, slow, languid thrusts of his cock nudged deep and accurate into your sweet spot, rubbing against every sensitive part between your walls.

you writhed underneath him, clinging to him as you rocked your hips up. putting a shaky hand on his cheek, you pulled away as you caressed his cheek. "don't stop, please," you encouraged behind what he thought were the sweetest sounding moans.

aventurine is always driven to make you cum first. there was nothing better than your pussy squeezing his cock before he cums. "you sound so, so cute," he smirked hearing your shy squeak against his lips.

he adjusted his position so he could reach down and rub your clit. you always told him he is an angel. but to him, you sounded more angelic coming undone on his cock. you whimpered, soft and high pitched as your body twitched with the signs of cumming. "shh, cum for me, sweetheart. i've got you," you gasped in pleasure as his thumb circled your clit.

you were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but here he is, taking care of you instead.

you kissed him again, the knot of your orgasm breaking apart, your arms tightening around him as you shook from your orgasm. aventurine pulled away, he couldn't possibly bring himself to muffle your moans while you were cumming.

on the cusps of his own orgasm, aventurine increased his pace, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his high. his head dropped down into your neck, nuzzling against it as his cock pulsed.

you stroked his hair, hooking a leg over his hip so he could thrust deeper inside you. the comforting sense of intimacy, coupled with your pussy squeezing his cock made cum ribbon inside of you. aventurine shook in pleasure on top of you, nuzzling into your neck again.

after a few long moments, he pulled out, remaining on top of you. "how about today, we just stay in bed. order room service and some drinks and just," he chuckled sleepily, grinning down at you, "fuck all day."

the ideal day off, in your humble opinion.

[aethes-bookshelf]

let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

[onlyseokmins]

mischief maker • y.j.h.

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, priestess!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting ����🏻 jeonghan is an absolute FILTHY menace, light slapping, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? WC: 4.2k A/N: also another thing rotting in my drafts </3 anyways kinda proud of this one but it's also obscene and hard to follow so sorry </3 let me know if you have any theories hahah!!! this goes hand-in-hand with Ashes and Cinders, so definitely recommend to read that one if you haven't already

"Look at how heavenly you are. The lengths you'd go, so dedicated to prove your servitude."

Droplets of perspiration turn into diamonds, littering the bare skin of your back that's exposed more than usual due to the disheveled state of your robes. Neither the dewy sheen coating your skin nor the cold stone you're pressed against causes the chill that sets off tiny bumps decorating your sweat-soaked figure. It is from the sensation of a plethora of tiny gems crystalizing against your heated body before they slide to the floor. 

Each precious jewel that falls creates a tinkling melody. Echoing the sound of the ones wrapped around your neck and sewn into the fabrics that were once draped elegantly over your curves as you moved through the temple.

It's difficult to focus when your eyes are nearly crossed. Your elegant, upright visage is beyond recognition. Instead, a depraved image is reflected in the pristine water of the blessed fountain that flows out into a shimmering pool encased by polished marble. You were always quite meticulous about upholding the beauty of the temple you oversee.

Yet, who's the one sullying all the hard labor the maidens endure under your watchful guidance?

Drool dribbles past your lips, sore and swollen from how many times teeth have bitten into and at them. Now, they have no choice but to stay open and release a series of successive, sultry moans being drawn out of you and resonating throughout the chamber. Head lolling and vision starting to swim, losing count of how many times you've been brought to and over the overwhelming peak of pleasure.

"How does it feel?" Sweeping back long, flaxen bangs out of his glowing gaze with the finesse a mortal man could only dream to possess after hours upon hours of fucking, Jeonghan smirks. Miniscule encrusted diamonds grow, glisten, and gleam, bestowing a dazzling glitter on his forehead before they drop. "How does it feel for your god to bury his cock inside this tiny blessed cunt, my precious priestess?" 

If a verbal answer was needed, the both of you would be shit out of luck. Fortunately, as a sentient being, he can hear the innermost thoughts of many. Usually a low murmur in the back of his mind unless he focuses on them or they are an extremely devout believer in prayer. 

And you just happen to be the high priestess of Yoon. The model of devotion. Possibly the only mortal capable of handling the god of the temple in his true, divine form. 

By now, he has to chuckle at how your little head is only full of nonsensical thoughts. More, more, more, and Jeonghan, god, Jeonghan are the only comprehensive things that cry out to him. Even within the physical tremor of your body beneath him and the fluttering squeezes of your pussy. So much pleasure writhes throughout your very being that it races like electricity in a wire and surges inside his own, erupting into unadulterated waves of even more bliss for the both of you.

He leers in victory. Bringing you to your knees was a lot harder than expected, especially for someone who was supposed to serve the people in his name. To be completely honest, he was the one who ended up on his knees first — cleaning up the tantalizing slick gathered between your legs with his tongue. It was after you had spread them teasingly upon his arrival, accidentally summoned to your bedchambers at the seductive cry of his name. Cock-throbbing whimpers that had fallen from your lips while pleasurably climaxing from your fingers dipping in and out of the wet warmth between your legs. Eager to let go after playing for quite some time with such sweet, pooling arousal.

That was the day he found out just how much more delicious you were than the frothy nectar of the gods overflowing from their goblets during festivities. 

And he had become addicted. 

But now, look at you.

Your saintly garments are an unholy mess. Saturated by a mixture of both of your releases, the pure white colors practically become transparent. Especially following an… unfortunate tumble into the holy spring.

Normally, it would be a punishable offense to defile the holy waters. But when it's a priestess capable of the most powerful purification skills being encouraged to ride the cock of the temple's worshiped being who very much doesn't give a damn — well…

It's why you're splayed across the pool's ledge, lower body on full display for the god to use. Not entirely the most comfortable of positions. But it's somewhat of a respite for your tender breasts that are littered with sore bites and nips from Jeonghan while he muttered praises bards might be inspired to repeat as songs if they weren't so filthy.

You're unable to think a single thought in that pretty head of yours. His hips snap rapidly at such a pace to bully his dick deep within your cunt and with the force that would've broken a human of the same stature's bones otherwise. Lanky, sinewy muscles buzz with a faint glow to match the radiance of his irises.

"What would the maidens that look up to you in awe think if they saw you like this? Your loyal priestesses that respect you? The followers that worship the ground you tread on almost more than how strongly they pray to me?"

You were an influential figurehead of society. Ever since you walked in the steps fate laid out for you by a grand oracle's prophecy, you became the pinnacle of holiness in the surrounding lands. Virginity as a requirement was only practiced in the days of the old texts, and though your romps with the handsome and beautiful people of the citadel were not fully behind you, Jeonghan would make sure no one else could ever satisfy you like he can.

Besides, who could ever fuck a human as well as only a god can?

His stamina is on a whole other level. Unthinkable for a divine being well known for his laziness in the so-called dignified parables spun by the mortal tongue for generations. Maybe it's fueled by the intricate bond formed between the two of you, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't by far the best dicking down you have ever received. Jeonghan's not the thickest cock you've taken, but he sure is the longest and knows exactly how to use it.

"Dirty little priestess, the way this sopping pussy clings around me like a vice." He scoffs at the realization. "No wonder even the mightiest of gods bows down and lays with his mortal queen every chance he gets."

The distraught huff torn from your lungs paired with filthy wet noises when he pulls out of your sloppy hole is music to his ears. Akin to the harps and flutes the muses and their delicate fingers pluck and play to grace the court of deities present among the clouds.

His palm splays out, flying across your ass cheeks with a resounding crack visually reflected by the responsive jiggle and wiggle of your hips following the cruel motion. Scratch that. He bites his bottom lip with glee, the same hand fingering your cunt to scoop up the mixtures of his multiple releases and yours from earlier. The delightful squelching is much better than the heavenly harps of the gods.

Jeonghan figures that's where you'll end up one day, sitting all pretty. Whether or not you'll be a divine being — he refuses to use his wily brain to think harder about that. Though with the way the two of you continue to defile one another, a trip to the underworld may be in your future cards instead.

He reckons you'd love the delightful heat of the lava baths and the cute little boiling bubbles that pop at the surface. Especially if you decided to sink down on his cock… the god shivers delightfully at the thought.

"Vices. How fitting for you mortals."

Tugging the back of your ear with his unsoiled hand so you can turn your head, squishing a cheek against the marble and blearily struggle to look at him through unfocused pupils. Still, you're able to make out the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger — and even the clear strands of arousal stretched between them — before he sticks his tongue out to lick up. All while maintaining eye contact with a smirk, continuing his venomous words.

"Silly brother of mine, wasting time to concoct a drink for the gods who have no need for refreshments. Stupid humans who attempt to brew it with their measly tools as an homage." His thumb returns to circle your sore clit, drawing out more garbled moans. "All those efforts when this," another swipe and he's slurping it up again and tossing his head back with a throaty groan of pleasure, "this is the real ambrosia."

Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, cries your body, your mind, and your soul.

So much that your very being resonates and calls out his true name, causing the god's aura to glow brighter. Dozens of rubies, crystals, jades, and emeralds spill out from his pores at the effort and exertion of his dick slamming back inside of you. It's more thrilling and stimulating than participating in the senseless wars his brothers like to lure him into.

Strength fills him like never before. No one would think the god of mischief would have many believers but humans were petty. They may pretend to walk the righteous path yet they thrive on the downfall of even those close to them. You delivered messages from the god with little thought, for greater forces spiraled his playfulness into much more ominous threats if they chose to — swallowing up his domain for their own brutal goals.

"Why do you not wish for more power?" you'd dared to ask him on the rare days he appeared at the temple. Lounging about on the architecture's high peaks without a care in the world. "Surely you could have greater control."

"My dear high priestess," Jeonghan chides. He's not completely unaware of the effect his acknowledgment of your existence and title has. "The strenuous move of my pinky finger is enough effort asked of me for the next millennium. That alone could cause a child's village to go up in flames just because of a little prank gone wrong."

Your posture remains as refined and poised as always, yet your eyes wistfully trace his features — wishing it could be your hands instead. "I see."

"I imagine the creator molded me the way I am for the benefit of the world. Think of the havoc I could wreak if I was motivated to do so?"

Unbeknownst, the creator did take it into account. Though they made no concerted effort to intervene in the consensual exploitation the mischievous god took of the beautiful priestess. Or maybe it was the other way around? Fully aware of the unspoken thread weaving through the temple of Yoon, content to watch the god become more interested in life as he whispered in your ear. This time, bold words that were definitely not meant to be relayed to his followers. 

The creator let fate be, for the current gods can only fall for a new world to rise.

"Ambrosia that would bring a transgressor due enlightenment and a savior," Jeonghan continues with a dark chuckle, "or a god to their knees. All for this sinful, perfect little cunt."

Moan after moan leaves your mouth, shamefulness long gone the minute the god saw your spread legs, and his azure eyes were immediately drawn to what was in between them. His cock continued its brutal assault, pistoning in and out of what he deemed the world's finest treasure.

"But no one will ever get a taste of this one. It's mine. Mine!"

His slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck. Surprisingly, he lifts your head up gently — just enough for you to nod your head at his growl of "Isn't that right?", though when only more drool drips out of your mouth, Jeonghan shakes your head roughly in a "yes" motion.

"I could break you," he hisses as if he hasn't already nearly done so. "You are as fragile as a blade of grass in my hands." Another harsh slap lands on your backside. "Yet so resilient to my wrath, this hole of yours is always so welcoming. Why?"

Yours, yours, yours.

Jeonghan agrees with a feral growl, one not of this realm. Like a sounding bell and beckoning call from the vast unknown, it sends a vision flashing across your eyes. The sun freezes in the sky with its brilliant, harsh glow yet the world turns eerily cold and not into dust and ashes as expected. Then the sky turns black, a terrifying darkness, and a howling moan of despair. 

The moon joins its counterpart like two eyes glaring at the universe. They shudder in tandem, vibrating at a shaking frequency until you realize. They are staring right at you, unwavering. Like a face. Like a reflection.

A crash and a boom and a roar — then you're coming undone on Jeonghan's cock for an unbelievable amount and length of time. Shuddering as the world falls apart inside your brain, screaming and writhing though not quite in actual pain as the god kindly fucks you through your climax.

"Turn you into one of us, then you would no longer have such a weak mortal body. But even that's not possible… unless it's the creator. Perhaps even then…"

You don't register his words and maybe it's good you don't. He refuses to bare the heart he doesn't have. An ultimate weakness. Not like his foolish brothers. 

And yet…

While waiting for the shaking of your body to subside, his hands ghost over your form as if to ease the trembling. Listening to your heart rate until it no longer beats as crazily as you find rest in lean arms that cradle your body without sexual intention for the first time since the god's descent. After placing your weary body in the fountain, you're soon lulled into a dreamless doze by the soothing lap of the tiniest of waves against your skin and Jeonghan's gentle caresses.

You awaken much later. Feeling a lot more refreshed by some well-deserved rest and your innate healing powers aided by the holy spring's rejuvenation. Flowers in varying shades matching the luminescent color of Jeonghan's eyes litter the bed. Surrounding you with the same sweet scent when in his embrace. Picking one up, you thumb at glossy petals that remind you of the god's silken hair and smooth skin. 

Truly a symbol of his likeness.

"Priestess."

Your head jerks up when the subject of your thoughts silently materializes. A scratchy throat turns even drier and makes it hard to swallow upon spying a glint of silver pinning up Jeonghan's long locks. Another symbol — this one of the god's chilling wrath — is a spear disguised as a fragile hairpin. 

Carved from the bones of an ancient beast slayed by a hero of legends, the shining spear was crafted and embellished by the hands of a talented blacksmith gifted it in the name of his fellow brother and deity. The one that stands before you now, Jeonghan, the god of mischief. 

Tales of the legendary weapon thrown from his slender fingers and whistling through the battlefields to mercilessly strike down foes and enemies alike are documented on ancient scrolls in the oracle's grand library. As the only other one with access to such rare treasures, you'd poured over the delicate artifacts for days to learn more about the god you serve, eyeing the tiny circlet that hangs around his neck, certain it's the powerful aegis that supposedly wields the ability to turn those into stone.

"Drink." A chalice disrupts your view of the god and you take it, grateful at least for something to soothe how parched you feel. If he even notices your anxiety, he stays quiet and sits on the edge of the bed. Playing with a flower stem until you finish, the representative plant somehow looks both foreign yet perfect in his hands. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"Some sort of vision. One that was quite… frightening." 

"Describe it to me."

"Th-the gods. I think, my goodness, I am certain that they were at war."

As you explain in greater detail, weaving your tale of the bleak sun into it, Jeonghan's sapphire irises grow darker. Colder. By the time you've finished, the stem he'd been twirling in his hands has snapped in half and you no longer dare to look him in the eye even when he hums.

"The sun… hm? How interesting."

"Yes." 

You nod knowingly, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. There's a shing! noise and the god stands, a visible aura radiating around his form as the fearful spear elongates, revealing itself. It looks less deadly than described in stories, though you suppose no one who has been pierced by its shaft has lived to tell the story of its killing nature. Delicate and thin with a beautiful glow around it in this peaceful moment. But you know better than to trust what the eye — even one as perceptive as yours — can see and shudder.

"Is it the holy war you fear? Doubt that you'll receive a divine blessing of protection?"

A wry smile graces your lips. "I don't need to worry about being protected. It is my duty to defend the temple no matter what."

Jeonghan snickers, remembering the sharpened tip that almost grazed him. Caught off guard on his first visit when a priestess greeted him with a nocked arrow rather than a subservient bow of respect. And who knew he'd end up bedding that very same priestess, addicted to your body and all that it offered him. 

"Nothing will strip away the divine barrier encasing us so easily," you also point out and he nods, eyes lifting to the sky displayed through the high, open arches of your sleeping quarters. 

"I suppose you're correct. Though I do not know if you'd be able to fend off all my brothers…" The god lets out an undignified snort. "I do not believe they are planning an uprising so I must see what this vision of yours could be about." Jeonghan stretches, sending a lazy grin your way. "Do you trust me?"

You think back to gentle touches after a rough session. Whispers of sweet nothings and meaningless pledges when he thought you had drifted asleep. Waking up clothed in gossamer silk — a gift each time — and various reminders of his touch in the aches of your body that had yet to recover, visual ones scattered about the bed you rested upon each time. 

You recall what your purpose is. The oath you must uphold is proven by your namesake. Your destiny. And more. It is something you cannot forget. Ever.

"Of course," you assure him and Jeonghan laughs carefreely. Like he can't believe your faith in him himself. Neither can you.

He shakes his head, strands of hair shining like gold threads. Taking the chalice from you and lifting your freed hand to place a chaste yet flirty kiss to your knuckles. "Don't forget about me, my priestess. I'll return soon."

Another empty promise. Though you don't refute, playing along with his teasing remarks of you welcoming him back with open legs. Bidding the god a rather casual farewell before he disappears — but not with a wink followed by a bright flash and loud thunderclap.

Once you've sensed his presence is truly gone, you rise from the bed. A lyre sits in the corner and you run your fingers melodically across the taut strings while refining your appearance. You have a job to do after all.

The shrill cry of a raven draws your gaze to the open window where the black bird lands. It hops around, tilting its head curiously and rustling feathers expectantly. You smile, laying out a collection of gems on the ledge for it to inspect and play with. Summoning the maidens of Yoon, you speak to your confidante, stroking its midnight plumage while waiting for them to make the journey up to your chambers.

"Foolish gods, always underestimating. Jeonghan may have forgotten… everyone must have cast it from their minds." Your avian companion lets out a low croaking noise, nuzzling your palm with its beak as if to comfort. "But I… I will never forget." 

Do not. Forget.

Don't you. Dare. Forget

"I won't. I can't."

The voices in your head would never let you. And they will only get louder as time marches on, especially without Jeonghan by your side. But that is neither here nor there. You can't do anything about it except the one thing you — and only you — can do. 

By the time the eldest maiden has ascended the steps, you are alone again. Dressed in the purest of white robes and not a hair, jewel, or garment out of place. There are no black feathers, radiant jewels, or azure petals found in the humble and barren chambers of the high priestess. Just you, with your hands clasped together, and a fixed smile on your face.

"It is time." None of them notice the empty look in your eyes as they bow before you, heeding the declaration that comes from your lips. "It is time to spread the prophecy to the world. The real one."

"Yes, Mother," comes the obedient chorus.

The young women's eyes remain cast downward out of respect and the ambience of power emanating from you. For though they loyally represent the god of mischief, there could be no higher honor than serving a greater goddess such as yourself.

Jeonghan is clever. Wily. Smarter than he lets on which can be a true asset to those unsuspecting. But by no means is he ambitious. He is young too, and though the shell you reside in was destined to be his high priestess, the ancient bind to your soul has a stronger pull.

"He is coming," you murmur to yourself as the maidens set about the command you've ordered.

There's a warm glow bursting from the horizon, a fiery heat swathed in a tender caress making those erratic flames calmer. Softer. You're accustomed to what should be a sweltering wrath full of rage and the indicative hint to the tempered nature makes you smile. But the fuzzy feelings are tainted by a bitter tang of what is to come after the god of the sun's visit.

And so you prepare yourself for Seokmin to bring his eager request in your private chambers, stroking the head of your elusive feathered companion at your side while you wait. Watching as the sun rises higher and higher and an auburn-haired figure makes his way closer and closer.

Meanwhile, a flaxen-haired god's grip might nearly snap the spear he's holding in half. He stares at his eldest brother, aghast.

"You're lying."

"I am many things, Han, but I am not a liar."

"Brother —"

The king of the gods holds up a hand. "You don't have to believe me but it is the truth."

And though Jeonghan wants to fervently deny it, the dragged-down weight of his mortal shell's bones fight against what his godly head refuses to acknowledge.

He's brought back to what he was envisioning while bored out of his mind at his brother's lengthy counsel session. You — touching yourself, needy and forlorn without him there to fill you up — and him — returning to find such a scene and punishing you in the most salacious way possible.

But it's warped by his prophetic powers, proving his brother to be correct. Instead, you call him to bed and of course he follows, seduced by the way your body moves and everything else he wouldn't dare admit. And just as he finishes painting the inside of your cunt with all that he's worth and more, heavily spent from the throes of passion — you strike. Like a cobra lying in wait for its prey.

"Why?" is what he pathetically says as golden ichor drips from the corner of his mouth. The dagger you'd struck into his chest hurting a lot less than the actual damage truly dealt to what no human should ever be able to touch — his heart.

Blinking out of the painful vision, Jeonghan scowls at his brother. "You didn't know we've had an enraged primordial goddess on our hands?"

"Don't turn this on me when you've been fraternizing with said goddess."

Just as he's about to retort, the sudden darkness below the heaven's distracts both gods. The sun slips from the skies and a wail of grief so loud and chilling echoes, the harkening sign to the beginning of an apocalypse. The end. And for the first time ever, they feel a rush of emotion they've never felt in their whole immortal lifespan.

Fear.

As if that's not the worst of it all, he hears your voice. You're slyly drawing on that mental connection between the two of you, so that the phrase can be heard so crystal clear that his knees almost give out at the damnation you've orchestrated.

"And so… let the gods pay as they fall."

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[greg-montgomery]

hi hi!! can i maybe request a rly cute and fluffy one shot of aaron just comforting and taking care of the reader 🥹

like maybe there was a thunderstorm in the middle of the night and reader subconsciously just runs to hotch’s room and he comforts her udhaidbsjanxb

also maybe a cute lil age gap to feed my daddy issues pls pls pls

ANYWAYS ILYSM NEVER STOP WRITING, I LIVE FOR UR STORIES BB

hiiii!!! <3333 thank you for the cute request and your sweet words!!!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Nothing would ever beat sleeping in your own bed. Nothing could beat the comfort that the fresh scent of your sheets brought you, or the little light you always left on the entire night since you were a child.

Being away for a case meant you had to learn to sleep without those comforts. And you were really good at it; but the thing you could not get yourself to adjust to, were the unfamiliar sounds of a new place. Sometimes it was the sound of a passing car, and others some annoyingly loud neighbor.

That night it was the sound of a thunderstorm. And the hotel you and the team were staying at was definitely not soundproof enough to let you sleep in peace.  

You had been tossing and turning for more than an hour, unable to calm your heart down. It wasn’t just the thunders that scared you; the rain was pouring like crazy and the wind was almost whistling. Suddenly you felt like a little kid again, afraid that the walls weren’t thick enough to protect you from the strength of that storm.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and gave trying to fall asleep one last shot. But at the sound of another thunder, the face of a certain man appeared on your mind.

Hotch.

The truth was when you thought of “safe”, you thought of him: your boss who always had all the answers. Maybe it was his older age or his intimidating appearance but he made you feel like no matter what the problem was, he would fix it. Hotch always made it better.

Without thinking about it twice, you got out of bed and ran to his room. Well, you didn’t have to run much anyway, since his room was right across from yours. He’s definitely awake, you thought; always staying up most of the night to work on the case while everyone else rested.

That was why you were surprised to see Hotch wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants answering his knocking door. But the thing that made you the biggest impression was his disheveled appearance. Sleepy Hotch was the cutest thing you had ever laid eyes on.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“Hotch,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep. I’m gonna go back to my room.”

You made a move to turn around but Aaron was faster and grabbed your elbow, gently pulling you into his room.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said closing the door once you were both inside.

“I was scared,” you admitted. Seeing him raising his eyebrow in question you continued. “Of the storm...”

You were relieved to see a little smirk on his face. You guessed he was relieved too after finding out that the thing that scared you wasn’t something actually dangerous.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“It’s okay.” As tough as Hotch looked, he was the most gentle man you had ever got to know. “You can always come to me about anything.”

And you had the audacity to wonder why he was your safe place?

“I know.”

He sat on the edge of his bed and patted at the spot right next to him, signaling you to take a seat; so you did. You were close enough that you could smell his after shave. It made you dizzy.

“Have you slept at all?” he asked.

 “No. And I’m tired.” You let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should just pull an all nighter.”

“Nonsense.”

“But-”

“What if you sleep in my room? Will you still be scared if I’m right here?”

Your stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies.

“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” you asked.

“I won’t tell if you don’t” he said, and offered you his pinky finger to cross yours with.

You did it with a huge grin. "Deal."

“Come on now,” he said playfully while getting under the covers. Without any hesitation, you did the same, finding your place at the other side of his bed.

It was almost perfect; almost, because his arms weren’t around you, but instead were resting on his stomach.

“Hotch?”

“Hm?”

“Does the offer come with cuddles too?”

“You wanna cuddle with your boss, honey?” he smirked, and reached out his arm so you could curl up in his embrace.

“Yes, please,” you said, and the two of you ended up in each other’s arms. Being around Aaron had always felt safe, but being in his arms? That was a whole new level of safety and comfort.

“Good night, Hotch.”

And just like that the sound of his beating heart made it hard to focus on the rain hitting on his window.

His lips on your forehead and the words “Good night, sweetheart,” were the things that finally lulled you to sleep.

[gotham-daydreams]

The Dawn

Day 5 {Challenge Masterlist}

Has come, but of course, not every day is meant to go as planned.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader(?)]

[Warnings: Gore-esc descriptions (a lot of mentions of flesh, flesh moving, muscle, teeth, growth like that and being described being where they shouldn't be), eldritch horror sort of description, ooc characters (?), implied death, alien reader, monster reader, confusing and vague description, obsessive behavior (at least implied), hardly a sprinkle of possessiveness but it's there if you squint, an almost-end-of-the-world scenario. Suicide in the form of self-sacrifice, there is fighting but nothing in detail, harm is done to the reader, body horror.] (Note: If I missed any, I apologize but I think you get the gist. This one is a doozy. Might be a little confusing, and isn't my best work, but I tried my best and once again apologize for the delay. For all those reading this, I hope you enjoy and this has been an interesting short series to try and write with you.)

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

Of a new day has come, and all the residents of the Earth could feel it. Before the sun showed itself, the skies seemed to lose their blue undertones for one half of the world, and the other could see the effects as people – imitators and humans alike – with patches of stars etched into their skin, offered themselves to the sun when it shined down on them, all just to join the vessel who had given promises it never intended to keep. With their essence going into the ground of the Earth, slipping into every crack and crevice, dropping into the near boiling waters as brown, near reddish undertones overtake the atmosphere.

You don’t wait until morning, not with everything in place and nearly everything prepared.

The detective that came with you from Metropolis was lost, but a few miniscule organisms being lost compared to the large amount of other lifeforms on this planet meant little. He served his purpose, just as the rest had – and of their own volition no less. All for the chance to get closer to whatever their heart and mind desired most, a promise you never made but they believed in anyway. It was a funny thing, how something like that worked, but it’s something you’ve come to expect and have worked with numerous times. It’s helped you before, especially with the last few planets, and a little planet such as Earth didn’t seem to change that. Not that such a silly little thought had ever crossed your mind.

Even if the effects seemed to differ, and your encounter with this world’s strange anomalies seemed to only prove that further – you can’t say it wasn’t… enlightening in a way you hadn’t considered before. Which was saying a lot since you’ve had this ‘effect’ on living things for a long time, and yet you still learn more about it as it helps you feed and grow all the more. Admittedly, you didn’t notice it much at first – but after that day, you haven’t forgotten about it. You couldn’t. Not when it held the potential to finally satiate your unending, painful, excruciating appetite.

The memory is a fond one, and you can’t help but recall it each and every time you’re able to feast once again. After all, it’s done you so much good – and without it, you never would’ve been able to even fathom being where you are now. Let alone imagine how utterly satisfying a good meal could really feel. Not with how your own people treated such things, and certainly not with their inability to move from such idiotic customs and traditions – always looking towards a future they never truly worked towards. Though, you had no such problems, and if there was anything you had to thank them for – it would be that one fond, meaningful memory you hold that’s allowed you to see the error of their ways, and be the one to break the cycle of such foolish nonsense. They were lazy, almost arrogant with how confident they were that a good meal large enough to fulfill all of them would come someday and fall right into their laps. It was honestly embarrassing that you were supposed to be the same as them.

However, unlike them you have drive, ambition, and the will to actually try and achieve what they so desperately wished for. To say you had a ‘good meal’ was putting it lightly – as you’ve heard humans put it, in their terminology, you feasted like a king that day. Although the price was high, it was to be expected as food such as that didn’t come easy, nor did it simply grow from the ground. No, such a thing didn’t even exist on your planet.

The results alone were worth it, that much you knew – and it was enough for you to do it again, and again, and again.

One tradition from your species did stick, for it was the only thing that actually made your meals feel better with time. Especially as each and every feast made it easier to endure such things, and this own ‘habit’ of yours became more than just a means to an end. More than just a way to fill your gut and move onto the next planet – no, no, no. It was about feeling the rewards of your efforts, and being able to truly take it all in. You’ve heard a few humans refer to it as ‘chasing a high’, and you can certainly agree that it feels similar to that, just on a much larger scale.

Hence why now, your excitement knew no bounds. You could feel the sun just about to rise, but could feel all those already under its haze begin to fall rapidly, and that alone sent tingles down the spine of your current form. If there was one thing you appreciated about humans, it was their need to please – something that, in a moment like this, certainly changed things enough to where you would surely remember them after this. Their planet may have been small, but you could feel the thrill of the coming feast edging you on. These were certainly the most confusing, annoying, and impatient species you’ve ever worked with – but you couldn’t deny how helpful and fascinating they’ve been. You’ve learned a lot from this little preparation of yours, but now? Oh, now you’re able to finally relish in the reward for your efforts.

The small group of officers you came in with from Metropolis await outside the door for you, and line the hall in straight, parallel lines with their backs to the walls, and after them are the devout members of your little gathering you’ve had placed in Gotham a long time ago. You’ve honestly forgotten most of their names by now, but none of that mattered, and they didn’t seem to mind regardless.

A more natural smile rests on your face, and as you take one step out of the door, their bodies unravel right before your eyes. The very essence that made you, the thing your planet was mostly made out of, replaced the very humans who had followed you so diligently until this day. Most of them had described it as a sort of red dust, but you’d compare it more to the pollen plants on this planet produced, the ends of dandelions – but you could see the comparison, especially when it was more condensed. Something you had to figure out in order to even have them touch it or interact with it in any meaningful way. That was annoying at best, but once it was all figured out… well, you could appreciate humans for at least one other thing. Nevertheless, this was your reward to them, and they all took it with such ease that all you could do was smile wider and continue on with the rest.

The particles begin to swarm you, not one touching the ground as you breathe them in. Even tasting it on your tongue as you pass by more organisms, and they add to the growing haze around you.

By the time you step out of the apartment, it's hard for any other human to see you amongst the storm that seems to be forming around you, but you just continue to walk calmly. Each and every particle sinks into every pore of your body, and as much as you liked this vessel – since it was from one of your most devout followers, and you honestly had a bit of favoritism for it – you knew you’d have to let it go. Human bodies weren’t made to hold you, and could hardly withstand a fraction of your shifting abilities as it is. Like this, you knew it would only be moments until you shred this body to pieces with the mass you’re going to accumulate. Hm. Maybe as a true sign of respect for being such a wonderful host, and offering a body that could actually withstand the transfer while being able to last so long, perhaps you could save them last. For ‘dessert’, as humans called it.

You personally didn’t understand it fully, but it seemed like a good thing. So it’d have to do for now, and seemed honorable enough.

Licking your lips, the sun peaked above the horizon, and while it was still mostly white – the ring around it was a faint red, and the once blue skies were stained and tainted with murk, looking no better than the waters of the Earth. The clouds almost looked dirty from down below, and the world flooded with an odd silence it was never capable of before.

No screams sounded, but as you made your way to the heart of Gotham, many humans approached you to become part of the swirling particles around you that were growing into a sort of cyclone. All in an attempt to feed you, to give or gain whatever your mere ‘presence’ had told them. Their eyes began to leak with water, and they bore their teeth at you in such an odd way – with the corners of their lips still turned up, as if trying to smile with the bone underneath revealed. Something akin to ‘cheering’ filled the streets, and even if you didn’t fully understand the sound itself, you knew what it was supposed to convey.

Joy.

It was then that you knew this planet would truly be one to remember, as it too would relish this day – just as you were going to relish it. 

Before you could risk more damage happening to this vessel of yours, you stripped yourself from it – tucking it away in a nook between buildings before letting the swarm fully attach itself to you with no barriers left in between.

Finally, you could eat to your hearts content. 

— — — — — — — — — —

In full honesty, they should’ve anticipated that you’d be excited for this. That the very moment the first person decided to jump ship, you’d be itching to start, and get things going early – but they had hoped they’d have more time regardless. Your little countdown said as much, but clearly you were impatient, or simply just hungry – but those two things weren’t mutually exclusive, and it was sort of cute how excited you seemed to be. Even if the cost itself was great, and only growing steeper.

They were so close to finishing, and just on time too, but they’d just have to work with this. They didn’t have much of a choice, and even if they could hear the siren’s song from here, could feel the temptation in the very marrow of their bones as it practically ached to be released – they knew what awaited them would be much greater if they resisted and played this right. They’ve gathered as much help as they could, and with your effect washing over everyone on the planet at full force… well, if no one wanted what they did, they were useless anyway.

Getting started was easy – they had begun that part hours ago, and while you were taking your little ‘nap’ no less. A little over half of them were working on little to no sleep, but whatever you did…? It gave them just the energy boost they needed to continue regardless. As if their bodies have been freed of their limitations – or they just couldn’t feel the repercussions as strongly. Regardless of what it was, they weren’t complaining, and took full advantage of this. Barbara was even able to stand from her wheelchair, and even as her legs shook, she could nearly run like this despite still being unable to feel them entirely. Almost.

Those who were most needed on the finishing touches stayed, and the others went to greet you properly.

Finding you wasn’t the hard part – especially not when civilians were practically running in your direction, and all organic matter slowly seemed to fade away, and float towards where you were as well. Like just you revealing yourself made life corrode and rot away at the seems, almost like you had an amplified version of death’s touch, or perhaps were the manifestation of death itself – not that they believed such silly nonsense. You were a hungry little thing! You just needed a bit of discipline, and a very good teacher.

Luckily for you, they were many things – and they’d help you. Just as you’re going to help them.

The swarm looked mesmerizing from afar, and really matched the more earthy and dirty undertones the whole city seemed to take. Like roots from the ground, moss on walls, or vines hanging down from any high point they could reach – masses of flesh and veins seemed to form and grow. Latching onto buildings, and coming from the ground and every crack in the pavement below. Any other life that wasn't close enough to you, such as pets and so on… well, the crawling, writing masses from the ground and various buildings seemed to take care of it, and consumed what you immediately could not. Stemming from the very soil of the city that was once a dark brown, and now seemed oddly red – as did everything else the others seemed to touch before this day.

Small bits of vein and thin bones formed in food, with small pieces left in coffee beans, flour, and similar things having small spots of red in them. No one had to touch any of the baked goods to know the rot forming inside, and it's almost curious how all these small pieces writhe and wiggle, trying to reach one another in order to grow and form a larger mass. As if, even like this, such tiny pieces knew where other small fragments were. How to recognize each other, and had a natural need to be close. To fulfill its purpose.

Reaching the center of the city was easy, the lack of distractions was helpful – not that anything could take their eyes off of the spire forming right before their eyes.

Rising above the skyline, and as if trying to touch the sky and grow closer to the warmth the star it held, provided, was a sculpture in the making – and almost felt inappropriate to see it now, incomplete, unpolished, flawed in a way nothing human could be. Like strings of life, twisting in a braid, flesh from the ground began to rise up and formed something that was shaped like the top half of a human but lacked all the necessary features of one. Various rows of teeth, arteries, muscle, tendons, bone, and so on appeared all over the spire, with it growing much bigger the closer to the ground it was – where most of the feeding was done, as various mass of flesh dragged themselves across the ground and flung themselves to the center piece, allowing it to grow, and for the particles around you to take on a much brighter shade of red. The storm forming around you from the sheer amount of feeding you were doing all at once was nothing short of fascinating, but also made it easier to spot you, even if said ‘storm’ drew more dense around your form.

They couldn’t do much with the storm acting as a sort of barrier between you and them, and they knew the moment they crossed… well, their bodies would make the choice for them – and they couldn’t have that, so they started to cut off your supply from the outside.

Soon, smoke joined the clouds as fires began to spark, and nearly everything was set ablaze — something that immediately caught your attention. To say you weren’t happy was putting it mildly, but your actions afterwards were predictable.

You immediately went in for the attack, and chaos spawned from there. Noises never meant for human ears sounded, and it only further confirmed how alien you truly were – even if your most pure form tried to shape itself as a human at the top. Tendrils and other masses from buildings close to you shot out, and began attacking outside of the swarm of particles. Little to no thought was put behind the attacks, just simply charging forward, and trying to either grab ahold of or take out whoever was being attacked. All with the intent to kill, to consume no matter what – that much was obvious, and so was the fact that despite such smaller organisms holding no brain, they didn’t attack or run into each other. Working in tandem, acting as smaller parts that worked to keep the bigger, much larger and complex machine running.

The fight that broke out was messy, but thanks to you, the family was able to work in sync much better as well – and still being connected to you was very helpful in this instance. For once, the amount of damage they’d cause to the city was of little concern to them, as the flames roared on, and they used their most destructive methods yet. Others were extra messy with it compared to the rest, but there was a certain delicacy in their actions as the swarm slowly grew smaller and more dense, but ultimately got them closer to the center.

Naturally, your temper and mood was only worsening. Making you rage all the more and still try to consume as much as possible, but also growing more petty as you destroyed building, streets, and so on with your roots as an attempt to kill them, get them away from you, and or just rid of them entirely – but also to see something they had cultivated and tried to shape over their short lifespans, destroyed.

If they were all human, perhaps it would’ve worked – but they weren’t, and at least had partially expected this. After all, you were more akin to a child or wild animal when it came to these things. They didn’t exactly know how many times you’ve done this, or where, but had a good enough idea to suspect you didn’t expect much to begin with. Maybe this sort of thing had come easy to you before, and they didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing, but that also meant your defenses were down, and they fully intended to use that.

Eventually, the few left at the manor had come back to join the battle, with a note being made to Bruce, and some things being discussed as majority of the action was kept elsewhere. After, was when the real plan began.

They started at your roots, which you immediately tried to defend, but you had to focus on all other things as you couldn’t sacrifice the organisms closest to you for growth you could get back quickly. Food was the most important thing to you at the moment, everything else was secondary. Yet, it seemed like these damn Wayne’s knew that as they deliberately went after your food, and also burned your defenses.

This was supposed to be the easiest city to handle, the one that would allow you to pass the first stage with ease – and move in more food without anyone catching on too quickly. They had no powers, they were at the disadvantage besides a few flimsy contacts, and had only noticed anything was wrong during their final moments – but they somehow managed to learn of your greatest and most shameful weakness, knew where to attack, and were still able to coordinate and think clearly enough to form plans?! It wasn’t fair!! It isn’t FAIR!

Another loud shriek fills the air, and when you begin to feel a tingling ache – you finally take things a little more seriously, and more of your mass forms into muscle and bone. Yet, you swear you hear the smallest sounds of amusement from below through the smaller piece that had yet to reach you, coming from various members of this little, pathetic excuse of a so-called ‘family’. Something akin to anger sparks again, and you target all who dared to find anything about this ‘funny’.

You were so focused on targeting anyone who insulted you with such pathetic noises that you hardly noticed when you were low enough to swipe at some individuals – but eventually, you tire of this game.

“ENOUGH!” You shout, voice booming and loud as it echoes down the overwise quiet streets. Taking all the mass you could, you place yourself atop the spire of flesh, bone, and writhing life again. Forgetting your reasons for even doing this, you take in all of the particles that swarm around you, with them swirling around you in a whirlwind before it all stops, and you finally let out a sigh. Having to remind you that these foolish little creatures that dare stop you are made of only a fraction of what you have, that they are merely human, weak, and nothing more. A language without scripture falls from the countless mouths etched and stitched across the beautifully erotic form you call a body, but whatever you said, it makes the small pieces that were left in even the furthest parts of Gotham bolt towards you, and help grow the mass. There, much better.

Looking down at the pathetic life forms that tried to strike you down, you curse them in the only way you know how, and all the windows of the buildings around you shatter into fragments of glass. Whatever mass was able to grow in them. Formed together in large tendrils, and slammed down on the concrete below – beginning their own attacks, and rooting in the building they overtook. Like a parasite clinging onto its host long after death.

Anger itself wasn’t something you were entirely familiar with. You yourself didn’t seem to realize it, but they could tell – something like that is easy to pick up on in their usual line of work, and especially when one of them can read body language as easily as she can. It didn’t seem like an important detail, and it certainly didn’t make your attempts any less ruthless, but it made way for them to have the confidence that you’ve had all this time up until now.

Unfamiliarity can make one messy, uncoordinated, and unable to notice things they wouldn’t miss otherwise. Naturally, they should’ve been that way with you, but because of your very… ‘presence’ – it was nearly impossible for them to feel that way.

The air becomes harder to breathe as smoke continues to fill the air, and the smell of chemicals is mixed in. You hardly notice, not having such senses in a form like this, but you can feel the heat, and it only makes you more agitated – and thus more violent in your attempts to snuff out such insulting efforts to interrupt your feeding.

Your roots move further into the ground, and spread – parts of the braid that make up the lower half of your body untangle themselves and provide whatever defense and offense they can. More of your body hardens, and from down below, you look like a tree that’s slotted itself into the earth and just uncovered the fleshy, bone-like structure inside. People keep trying to run towards you, and fewer are succeeding, but those that do turn to particles for a brief moment before their immediate consumption. It’s clear you're taking this a little more seriously, and the family responds by doubling their efforts.

Then, the strangest thing happens as an oddly familiar shape moves in the sky, and soon blocks out the sun. Illuminating the pulsating, red mass that is your true and most captivating form. Yet, as much as they’d like to stand around and simply stare in awe, they take this opportunity while you’re disconnected from the sun.

Sounds of gunfire, roaring flames, indescribable shrieks, and occasional communication from the remaining heroes increase in volume as you only seem to grow bigger and bigger – yet clearly more agitated as well. Who knows what exactly is getting on your nerves, but it’s enough for you to swoop down and swipe at them. Something akin to animalistic growls escape the countless misshaped ‘mouths’ on your form, and your so focused on attacking and getting these pesky bugs away from you that you fail to realize a few areas on your roots begin to secrete a substance they aren’t supposed to. Though, when you finally do and are about to pull away – one of the younger ones, an anomaly you notice too late that is dressed like the pathetic family pulls you closer to them with a force you can hardly account for, and just as you try to retaliate, you realize you can’t right away.

The bottom half has been severed from you, and you only come to realize what, exactly, that substance may have been as an explosion ruptures throughout the city.

Of course, you try to over take the body of the being that grabbed you – only to get pulled off once again, and flung away from any nearby bodies. Only screams leave the body they severed you from, and all you can do is scramble as each part of you that’s left tries to latch onto something, anything, and that desperation nearly splits up the upper body you have left.

Some of it does split off, and as you lose multiple senses, you form very grotesque eyes on the neck of your form, and they move – trying to look in every direction possible for something to latch onto – and then you spot it.

Not a single question runs through your mind, as you rush and latch onto the body of the human form you had worn all this time. Which now laid out in the open, looked deprived and like it was nearly about to rot away at the seams – but as the smallest of tendrils from your body touch it, life returns to the corpse.

Of course, some damage is done to it, but you have no time to think about that as the sun begins to peek through the moon once more – only for it to get cut off once more. You can barely feel the warmth of its rays over the cold metal that both binds and burns you, but despite it all you try to fight it, and call to the pieces of you that remain.

Reaching out to the sun, you’re dragged across the rough concrete as you try to claw toward the sun. It’s harder than they expected to move you, but with enough effort, they’re able to pull you away.

At the sacrifice of some of your form, you try to shape whatever defenses you can and fight against whoever is dragging you and lash out against them – but more chains are formed as a response, and their grip on you is anything but kind and tender. They feel as if they’re about to rip you apart and melt away whatever’s left over, but nothing grants you that mercy.

Your sensations are dulled with the dark cloak that surrounds you, and you can hardly even register as you're thrown into a box that’s air tight. There is no telling where you’re going, if anywhere at all, but you can feel the call and connection to the pieces of you in Gotham City beginning to sever. Not once do you stop struggling and screaming. An endless stream of your own curses – both foreign and familiar to this planet accompany you until you're roughly tossed into a dark space you can hardly make out, but it feels as comfortable as the pavement in the human city.

The cloak falls, and you can only glare at the sight that greets you – but they can hardly focus on that, not when majority of the color in your iris has taken on a light shade of pink that surrounds your pupil in the shape of a large star, with the gaps in between each corner being filled with your original eye color. Mass of muscle is stuck to half of your face and around one of your eyes, as if the tendons themselves are attached to the skin and grew out of it. It trails down to your arm – with your hand being similar to Greenwood’s after his little ‘reveal’, only smaller and reduced to the same size as your human hand. It's clear the transition from your true form to a human one has come with its downsides and its own flaws, and even if at least one of them was sorry, a few weren’t and almost preferred you this way. It felt like the best of both worlds, and at least this way you were more comprehensible, and easier to understand. Less of a headache to look at – not that they had minded, you were utterly breathtaking regardless.

Still, with you down here, they had a lot of cleaning to do upstairs, and as right as it felt to be down here with you, they couldn’t let you get to their heads too much just yet. There would be time for that later.

“LET ME OUT!” You demand, and honestly it almost works – as did all of your commands prior to this, but just as all those previous moments, they’re able to resist. Their own drive and will trumping yours. Their need to have what’s been promised to them taking over any and all sense.

So, those that brought you in begin to leave, moving to the elevator they had used to come down and head back up to the batcave. However, the last of them stops for a moment, and turns to glance at you. “Just sit tight, and we’ll be right with you. Don’t try anything too drastic- I’d hate to return to nothing but a puddle of goop- and the others too, I guess.” He didn’t seem too thrilled on the subject, as if the concept of sharing with the rest upset him somehow. “But, go ahead and knock yourself out. Because you’re going to be staying with us for the rest of your time here on Earth. So, if you’ve got any other space buddies?”

He turns to face you better, though only by one additional step. “I hope your last memories of them were good enough.”

When he turns and leaves, another shriek tears through your throat, but by the time they all reach the bat cave, it’s hardly even audible. They can sense it more than they can actually hear it, which is an odd sensation but one they’re willing to adapt to. The payoff already feels more than worth it, and just knowing you're around makes them feel so good they don’t know how they’ve been able to survive without you until this point in their lives. Like they’ve all been missing something, and whatever it is, you have it, and are the key to gaining it.

So even as you scratch at the damp, cool walls – deprived of a meal you were so close to fully devouring, and your senses can hardly pick up on anything as the sun's rays are far, and all other extensions of yourself are being dealt with, you scream until you can no longer afford to sacrifice the amount of energy you were able to consume.

Earth will regret this. They will regret this, and you will do everything in your power to ensure that each waking moment of theirs is nothing but utter torture…

However, in spite of all the dark promises you make and vow to see through, your glorious feast is cut short, and life on Earth is allowed another day to flourish.

[weirdsht]

LOL HI I HAVE A THOUGHT AGAINNN HEHEHE

Cale and the gang with someone who's a mermaid? They're scared shitless because of the insanity their fellow merfolk are expressing towards creatures that haven't done them anything too big. They can be transmigrated or just simply too self aware of what kind of people they are going to face if they keep meddling with other creatures' affairs with no reasonable explanation.

I love mermaids lol 😞

It can be platonic or romantic. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE 🔥🔥🔥

Out of Their Minds - LoTCF & Mermaid! Reader

notes: thank you for enjoying my fics! I wrote something more lighthearted this time because I'm realised I kept writing angst. Low-key wanna do a pt.2 of this ngl. Also I know betta fishes live in shallow water but they are the most magnificent fish I have laid my eyes on so I wanted to use them

tags: mermaid reader, male reader (it wasn't planned, i was addressing to reader as a man before I could realise it lol), set after cale heals paseton, paseton/reader if you squint, i made a bunch of bullshit information about mermaids since there isn't much known about them anyways

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist Out of My Mind (pt. 2)

Sigh 

“This is what you get for working with shady people…”

You stare at the three mermaid corpses on top of a big rock. It was the middle of the night making the sight more eery. It makes you nauseous. Especially as you notice how one of them is armless.

However, you didn’t pity them.

“Serves you right to be honest.”

You whispered in the corpse’s ear as you sat on top of the boulder. Your mermaid tail swaying against a part of the rock that has no mermaid on it.

“How did you lose your arm though? Did you anger the Whale Tribe so much that they took your arm as a souvenir?”

Looking at the sea you wondered who killed them.

“Maybe it was that ruffian called Archie? But I heard rumours from the fishes that the Whale King will beat him to a pulp if he goes too far.”

Humming in disbelief, you continued talking to the corpse as though they were still alive.

“Hmm, but you guys crossed the line first so I guess doing this much to your bodies is nothing.”

You started thinking about what happened to the mermaid tribe as of late. Some shady organizations came and made a deal with them. You didn’t know much but you heard the organization called Arm was asking for a sea route.

“Wait, it’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? You’re working for something called Arm and you lost your arm when you died.” 

With your index finger pointing out, you tried to poke the cheek of the armless mermaid. But alas you couldn’t do it. Too disgusted at their mummified looks.

“Eww, you all look so gross. Why am I even sitting on top of you all? I’m gonna go back now before that weirdo magic spearman who keeps calling himself my hyung looks for me.”

Grimacing at the thought of the guy who insisted you’re his family now, you tried to get off the boulder you were sitting on. You may be an orphan, but you aren’t desperate to acquire new family members.

Shaaaa

As you try to climb down, you hear a soft splashing sound from behind. It sounds like water being manifested out of thin air.

Wait… Water out of thin air?

That could only mean the Whale Tribe. Not just ordinary ones, but one of the Shickler’s children.

Panicking, you tried to turn around while climbing down. Which only resulted in you falling off the boulder and landing hard on your butt.

“Wait wait wait! Is that a sword? Oh my god, it’s Paseton. Wait no should I call you his highness Paseton?”

Teary eyes and mouth spouting a bunch of nonsense because of panic made the half-blood whale stop in his tracks. Usually, when he encounters a mermaid they would spare no time attacking him.

“Are you about to discard those bodies in the water?”

“What? No way! If I did that those weird people would find me sooner.”

“Weird… People?”

Paseton lowered his sword and you relaxed a little. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand before addressing the whale’s confusion.

“Yeah! You should know about it already. I heard the turtles talking about how the mermaids are haunting you because you found out they were working with humans! Oh, but you don’t seem hurt, good for you!”

You gave him a thumbs-up as if you weren’t on the verge of crying because you fell earlier.

The half-blood whale finds you weird. It looks like you have no intentions of hurting him. In fact, it looks like you’re supporting him?

“...You’re that rumoured eccentric mermaid. Son of the previous mermaid leader.”

“No need to make it sound good. I know the rumours actually call me crazy and not eccentric. But yes that’s me, the crazy orphan whose parents got assassinated by mermaids. They're the real lunatics if you ask me.”

Paseton hesitantly shook the hand you offered.

“But why are you here? I heard you’ve gone missing and the mermaid tribe are worried sick looking everywhere for you?”

“You’re one to talk, I heard your sister is going crazy looking for you too.”

Letting go of his hand, you began to explain what happened.

“You already know about it but the merpeople are getting help from above ground. That was also why they assassinated my mother, the previous mermaid leader. She wanted to straighten out the relationship between our tribe and yours. She also initially refused the offer that the humans made. Look where that got her.“

Because of that you became wanted by the merpeople too. They framed it as looking for the lost heir but what they really want is to capture you to exploit your abilities.

As thanks for not killing you, you explained your special abilities to Paseton. Your poison is three times stronger than normal mermaids. You also possess the ability to heal any poison that comes from water and it’s creatures in it. Another special ability of yours is transforming into a fish. A secret ability that only the direct blood of the true mermaid leader can possess.

“My poison is strong enough to do this.”

Stretching your arms, you demonstrated your poison to Paseton by letting it out on the mermaid beside you. This rendered the already armless mermaid tailless.

“The sight is disgusting each time. Not pretty at all.”

You gag as you watch the mermaid’s tail turn into green goo before it sizzles, leaving no trace behind.

“So what do you think? I was planning on leaving these bodies but I can get rid of them for you. In exchange, you’ll let me be on my merry way.” 

Paseton nodded and you took that as a cue to start disintegrating the corpses with your poison.

“Where do plan to go now?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. The mermaids have gone crazy, I’m too scared to even look at them. Both the whales and the whale tribe won’t leave me alone if they see me because they’ll think I’m one of those lunatics. Maybe I’ll forever transform into a fish and create a fantasy nation and call it Lemuria or something.”

You said it in a joking manner but Paseton can see the fear in your eyes as you talk about the merpeople. At that moment the whale tribe prince pitied you. You have essentially become an outsider with nowhere to run to.

He was about to make an offer when a water whip struck beside you.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about, now a water whip is out to kill me. Wait waterwhip? Witira?!” 

You desperately looked at the man in front of you.

“Hey, I helped you get rid of the bodies right? You said you’ll let me go right? So please explain to your sister I didn’t do anything.”

“What are you doing to my brother?!”

Witira’s angry voice from behind made you look at his brother more desperately. Paseton nodded as he walked towards his sister.

“Noona stop, he doesn’t mean any harm. We were just having a chat.”

“With a mermaid?”

Paseton begins explaining what happened to Witira. From how he gets help from a noble to you helping him get rid of the mermaids. He also explained how you’re on the run from the mermaids and the people working with them.

As Paeston speaks you tried to use their distracted state as an opportunity to go back to the sea.

Keyword being “try”.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You feel the humpback whale half-blood scoop your fish form from the shore. 

“A betta fish huh? You’re quite pretty.”

Good thing you’re a fish so the siblings wouldn’t be able to see you blush. Your fins did shine a little brighter though. Light blue with a red and white undertone that makes you look purple glistened under the moonlight. 

But there’s no way they’ll know that’s how you show being flustered in fish form so it’s good.

“What do you want with me? I already did my end of the deal~”

You whined and flopped around Paseton’s hands, throwing a tantrum. The man only chuckled while his sister watched in amusement.

“Yes, yes. But I want to make another deal.”

That made you stop flailing around.

“Turn back first. The water in my hands is running out, you already splashed most of it out.”

Obeying, you transformed back into your mermaid form. You expected Paseton to put you down then. However, he didn’t and decided to carry your bridal style instead.

He may be the weakest of the whale tribe but his still stronger than most humans.

“So what do you want?”

You crossed your arms, pouting because you lost your chance to make a getaway.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you back with us. You have nowhere to go right? You can just live with us.”

Both you and Witira looked at him quizzically. 

“What’s in it for you?”

“We’ll use your abilities when fighting the mermaids. You also have an information network that consists of sea creatures right? We’ll use that too.”

“Those are my friends, not a measly information network thank you very much. Also, didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m scared of mermaids now. I can’t even look at them.”

“Who says you have to look at them?”

You questioned what Paseton was saying. Meanwhile, Witira observes his brother. She agrees with his plan. After hearing what happened to you and your abilities, she knows you’ll be a useful card.

However, she knows her brother. And she knows that the way he's looking at you means more than what his entailing. He also seems confident that he’ll get you to go home with them before the sun rises.

Hmm, maybe that’s her fault for spoiling him too much…

“You don’t have to face them yourself. You don’t even have to leave the Whale Tribe village if you want. You’ll just have to use your abilities from far away and help us defeat the mermaid tribe.”

“...”

You mulled about it for a few seconds. It’s not like you have anything else to lose as you already lost everything. It is also true that you have nowhere to go. Your sea creature friends can only hide you for so long before you have to run away again. It also doesn’t seem like the humpback whale is lying.

Plus Paseton is pretty cute.

Wait what?

“So I don’t have to face them?”

“No.”

“Will I have my own house?”

“Hmm, not yet but I have a house that’s separate from our family residence. You can live there with me”

“Not bad… You promise I won’t meet them right? Including those crazy people that keep calling themself my new family.���

“I promise.”

“Can you buy me a large fish tank that’s installed in my house?”

“Making demands already? I’ll have a custom-made fish tank and pool, just for you.”

“Okay, deal!”

You raised your arms in celebration, already thinking just how beneficial this whole ordeal was for you. You’ll just have to provide them with your assistance that’s being used for the greater good and you’ll be spoiled as a compensation? Sweet.

Witira only shook her head at your conversation. She could already tell she had a lot to explain to her father once the three of you go home.

Oh well, as long as her brother is happy.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter three

wutiwant saraunh0ly

❝More awake inside of my dreams, was that really you next to me?

Gimme what I want, who am I supposed to please?

Who am I supposed to please?❞

previous chapter next chapter

You couldn't help but to get absolutely fucking frustrated with Kenma. After so long, the little petty act from him had gotten so deep under your skin. You weren't one to tolerate something so stupid and childish, especially when you were nothing but courteous.

Kenma had somehow caused you to stop refraining from your usual nice manner and instead seemed to have brought a hateful part of you out.

It had all started when you had changed your seat in a class, seemingly nothing right? Wrong.

Apparently, the universe hates you because as you roamed the seating options, choosing once further in the back before class started, you had dangerously realized that Kenma had this class too.

The burning hatred on his face was more than known when you also apparently took his exact same seat. He stood there with his books in hand, now a bored expression on his face as if he was waiting for you to automatically get up.

"There's no assigned seats, find another one." You side eyed him, a cold tone encasing your words. A scrunch of his face was duly noted when he walked across the room, avoiding a seat near you as much as possible.

Somehow, that filled you with excitement, giving the exact same energy back to him as he had been doing to you.

That's what his mean ass gets, you smirked to yourself. However, you couldn't help the hot and cold shiver of excitement that coursed through you. Suddenly, it was extremely hot in the light brown sweater you had picked out today.

Kenma on the other hand, knew that you had this class with him on the first day. From that day forward, he watched you like a hawk. Every movement, every sip from your pink water bottle, every single interaction you'd have with a classmate.

He'd be in the back watching you, unable to take his eyes off the way you were just... you.

He couldn't help but to act like this towards you. You messed his life up from the beginning, knowing who you were even before you guys had properly met. The crosswalk incident never seemed to have crossed your mind when you saw him. It had been in his mind ever since he saw how absolutely beautiful you looked, listening to a song he knew which made you even more attractive in his eyes.

Anyways, deep down you knew that this eventually would not solve anything between you two. You actually had to talk with Kuroo about this now, before it really got too far. That's not something you really wanted to do though.

Class had blown by in a breeze, you couldn't stop staring at the back of Kenma's head as he wrote down notes, doodled a bit in his notebook, and even stretched to avoid cramping.

You were so enthralled with him; you could sense it. You shoved that down to only wanting to be friends and not wanting to fight with your roommate.

"Kuroo, I just feel like Kenma doesn't really like me." You confessed, sitting on the couch at home, wrapped in a blanket.

"Nonsense, Kenma can be ... something, but I'm sure he just hasn't warmed up to you yet." He spoke so surely that maybe you just have imagined the past few interactions with Kenma.

Except... you haven't. Kenma truly was being a dickhead to you, you knew that much.

Kenma on the other hand, knew he was too. He couldn't stand that you actually live with them. Your presence –your scent– was everywhere even if you weren't there at all.

He couldn't bare it anymore. The lustrous thoughts of you filled his mind and he loathed it. He loathed you. But he couldn't help himself when you and Kuroo were out of the apartment, and he took a peek into your room.

He found it girlish and utterly weird to say the least, however, that didn't stop from taking an article of clothing from your dirty hamper. Kenma felt so dirty, so invasive, but he was getting unbelievably hard at the fact you might have worn these the night before.

Your pink and white dotted panties with a pretty bow on them taken by Kenma as a trophy. The dirty act of doing it sent an electrical shock down his spine, he hated you so much, to the point where he craved you so badly.

His hard cock had strained against his underwear and sweatpants he had so often worn. Seeing a dried wet stain on them was the straw that broke the camel's back for him. Kenma's eyes were lidded with lust, knowing that he didn't have nearly enough time to fully please himself with this article of clothing till you or Kuroo came back to the apartment.

You didn't have a clue of any of this, of course, only focused on telling Kuroo to talk to Kenma for you – not wanting him to hate you anymore.

And you definitely left out the bits where you've cussed back at Kenma or sarcastically responded back just because he decided to be an extra asshole like. A recurring memory strikes especially during the Saturday nights where you had made dinner for everyone on the weekends, but he insisted that he was sure it would kill him if he ate it.

"If you say so," You responded, picking at your nails, not having anything else to say or better to do.

"How about you come with me? I was going to go meet up with some friends from high school and I'm pretty sure you'd like to meet them." Kuroo says with a smile, if you hadn't known any better you would think that he was trying to cheer you up from the nonsense that Kenma was on.

"I guess." you sighed, deciding that you'd use this opportunity to make some friends outside of class and get your mind off of Kenma's antics towards you.

It was a brisk walk that you and Kuroo took, catching up on his classes and how he was doing lately since it felt like you both haven't really talked a lot lately.

He was going on about how he has been staying after lectures to help some of his classmates with work they were troubled on. In Kuroo's head, it just seemed like the perfect excuse to help you, and Kenma got along better when he wasn't around. Clearly, so far it has been backfiring.

No matter how many times Kuroo tried to talk some sense into Kenma, obviously knowing how you feel when he acts like such a dickhead to you, he just wouldn't budge. He'd claim that you're the one who is always provoking him.

"Oh, so that's why you've been wearing those so much? I thought you finally realized how well they suit your face but no, you got a compliment from a girl." You rolled your eyes, giggling at how silly Kuroo was sometimes.

"She was cute, okay?" He tried defending himself, knocking on the white apartment door you guys arrived at, blushing ever so slightly at this girl he had class with and occasionally helped her with her work.

Luckily his escape from this conversation was when a man opened the door. He was tall, broad shoulders, and had a funny spiky updo of white-gray hair that had black streaks in it – it didn't look half bad.

However, the most peculiar feature about him wasn't his build, or his hair, not even his clothes, it was eyes. Those eyes... were strange to say the least. Round, stark golden-colored eyes watched you like a hawk – no, like an owl. It was almost eerie how similar you could compare the two together.

He looked attractive and magnetic to be around, you understood why Kuroo was friends with him after all.

"Hey, hey, hey! Kubro!" The man interrupted your thoughts, embracing Kuroo into a man hug.

"Sup bro! How have you and Akaashi been?" Kuroo asked as they broke from the 'bro hug' and the man opened the door wider so you both could enter.

"We're great! Who's this little thing here?" He peered down at you, a wide smile on his face which suited him a lot.

"Hi, I'm Kuroo's roommate. Y/n." You returned a smile back at him, his joyous grin becoming infectious.

"Ah, I remember now. I'm Bokuto, this is my apartment that I share with my boyfriend!" He announced to you, which you nodded to, not really sure what to respond with.

"Kaashi! Come meet Y/n," The man loudly called for, who you were guessing, his lover.

A man emerged from around the corner of the living room, you assumed that's what it was. He was wearing a sweater that suited him nicely matched with a pair of black slacks. He had glasses on, which flattered his angled face very well. If Bokuto was handsome and magnetic then Akaashi was pretty and elegant.

"Kou, you don't have to shout. I can hear. Hello, I'm Keiji Akaashi," He extended his hand to shake yours – something Bokuto hadn't done.

"Hi, nice to meet you." You shook it, being polite and offering a smile.

"Would you like some tea?" You answered yes to the offering, turning away from what Tetsu and Bokuto were talking about and followed Akaashi into the kitchen. It was very homey here, and even smelled great. He put a kettle on and let you choose which kind of tea bag you'd prefer.

You let out a gasp, seeing your favorite tea in the mix, which was cinnamon apple spice. "This one please, I love it so much!" You couldn't help but to gush.

That caught Akaashi's attention, and he immediately turned toward you, a newfound friend he could speak to about tea.

"Tell me about it, I love the after spice it gives." He smiled; it was alluring. It made your mind wander to Kenma and how he'd look when he smiled, not his usual grimace that covered his face when you were around.

After a few mindless minutes of comparing favorite teas and even going so far to discuss different brands the topic switched to something else – or someone else. And that twisted your stomach in knots, however, you weren't too sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"So, you're rooming with Kuroo and Kenma? How has that been?" He sat across from you at the glass table, both holding and sipping the teas.

"Well..." You trailed a bit, slightly chewing the membrane off the inside of your cheek. You didn't really know how to phrase how it was going.

Eventually, you went with your gut and began, "Honestly, living with Kuroo has been a breeze. I've known him since I was in primary school so there are no bumps in the road with him." Not even bringing up Kenma until he just had to ask.

"And Kenma?" He questioned, finding it weird that you had only mentioned Kuroo and not the other roommate you were also living with.

“Uh, it’s been fine, I guess.” You were going to leave it there but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, he’s been really fucking mean. Ever since the day I moved in, it feels like he’s hated my presence and I don’t even know what I did to him.”

“He’s just so infuriating sometimes and can't even bear a simple ‘thank you’ when I try to include him in things or get him his favorite coffee.” You grumbled, letting out more and more of a rant to Akaashi who was just sitting there, looking at you so intently while you spoke. It was as if he was silently urging you to continue.

“Don’t even get me started on the sassy ass remarks he loves to give me on the off chance he’s not trying so hard to avoid me. I’ve tried everything to be his friend and he’s just not budging and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed, finally out with all of the mess that’s been troubling you for the past weeks.

You knew it had to be quite some time that you’ve held all that in since it was the end of September.

“Hm, would you like advice?” He peered down at his now half empty cup, the tea delicious.

You peered up to him, surprised.

“You’d give me advice on how to deal with him?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, yeah. I’ve known Kenma since high school so I ought to at least give you some advice on his antics.” Akaashi explained as if it was desperately obvious.

To you, though, it wasn’t. However, you still nodded him along to tell you what you should do.

“It’s simple, just keep being nice when you can. Kenma can get under peoples skin sometimes but I guess we all have known him so long that it doesn’t really affect us anymore.” He spoke with intent, getting up to put his cup in the sink.

Keep being nice? It sounded like a load of garbage to be completely honest, but Akaashi had known Kenma for a while, along with Bokuto and Kuroo. So, you guess you had no other choice but to follow it. 

Soon, the hang out was over and you exchanged numbers with Bokuto and Akaashi. You enjoyed that you had a nice advocate for you if you needed it – meaning Akaashi, or Keiji as he asked for you to call him.

You felt better about your hardy relationship with Kenma and planned to fix it too. Plus, it was nice to rant about your troubles to someone who listens very well.

They make a great couple; you thought as you and Kuroo walked on the way back to the apartment. The evening chill, flickering lights of streetlamps, and tugging your sweater close to your skin was so dulcetly ephemeral to you.

Your eyes started to lid, yearning for your bed as you couldn't keep up with the conversation of Kuroo telling you about how he and Bokuto met.

"You know, I'm really grateful for you," You suddenly felt sentimental when that left your mouth. Memories of Kuroo and you since you were young fleeted through the front of your mind.

Kuroo turned towards you with a curious look, "I'm exceptionally grateful for you, Y/n."

There wasn't any more talking till you both arrived at the apartment. You wondered in another universe if you and Kuroo had ever been actual siblings instead of found family siblings.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire multi-chapter fic came from @deftrow !! i made the banner

[doumadono]

hey I hate to bother you but I have an emergency request. Could you write a Bakugou x Reader short where he talks the reader through some big decisions regarding the reader’s possible career path where they’re having to chose between going off and having a 9-5 job or going to continue their family farm? I’m about to graduate in the next year and my parents have been shaming me for wanting to help restart our family farm while I’m off in college.

( we had to sell most of our animals after bad droughts five years back to back, so it’s been incredibly bare as of recent and I’m going to college for Agriculture anyways, so in my mind everything makes sense).

I don’t necessarily want a big fancy job, and honestly nothing makes me happier than working animals and it’s just been hard on me to try and please my parents while also still trying to go out and do what I want.

Harvest of choices - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: please stay true to your goals, and trust that with your dedication and education, you can make a significant impact!

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The city skyline stretched out before you, a dazzling array of lights and towering buildings that promised endless possibilities. The air was crisp, a stark contrast to the earthy, familiar scent of the farm you had grown up on.

You stood on the balcony of your temporary apartment located in Musutafu, clutching the job offer letter in your hands. This could be your future - a stable 9-to-5 job in a reputable company, the kind of career you had always dreamed of. But the thought of leaving the farm, your family, and everything you had known was a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your contemplation.

The screen lit up with a message from Katsuki Bakugo: "I'm outside. Let me in."

You sighed. Bakugo was never one to mince words, and you knew he would force you to confront the decision you had been avoiding.

Opening the door, you were greeted by his intense, crimson gaze, eyes blazing with the determination you had come to rely on. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What’s going on with you? You've been super off for a few past days, nerd.”

You held up the letter, the official seal of the company catching the light. “I got the job offer. They want me to start next month.”

Bakugo’s eyes flicked to the letter, then back to you. “And you’re freaking out because…?”

“It’s not that simple, Katsuki!” You grunted, your voice trembling slightly. “Taking this job means leaving the farm, leaving my family and everything I am familiar with behind... They need me there, and I don’t know if I can just abandon them.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a stern expression after he entered your apartment. “So, you’re stuck between the fancy city job and staying on the farm. Let’s break it down.”

He motioned for you to sit on the couch, and you obliged, grateful for his no-nonsense approach.

Bakugou took a seat next to you. “First off, this city job. What’s so great about it?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s a stable career, good pay, and I’d get to use my degree. It’s something new, a chance to grow and prove myself in a different environment.”

Bakugo nodded. “Sounds solid. Now, what about the farm? What’s it mean to you?”

“It’s home,” you replied softly. “It’s where I grew up, where I learned the value of hard work and family. It’s a part of me, and I don’t want to let my family down. They’ve sacrificed so much to keep this place running.”

Bakugo’s expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense as he ran his calloused hand through his messy hair. “Alright, so you’ve got strong ties to the farm. But what’s really stopping you from making a decision?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m afraid of making the wrong choice. If I leave, what if the farm fails? And if I stay, what if I’m giving up a chance to do something more with my life?”

Bakugo placed a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing you there with his thumb. “Listen, you’re not gonna know for sure if you’re making the right choice until you make it. That’s just how life is. But here’s the thing: you’re strong, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re not the type to let things fall apart, no matter which path you choose.”

His words, though blunt, held a truth that resonated with you.

“But what if I fail?” You whined, shaking your head.

“You won’t,” he said confidently. “And even if things get tough, you’ll figure it out. You’ve got people who care about you, who will support you no matter what. And if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll blast ‘em to pieces.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. “Thanks, Kats. That actually helps.”

He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor shining through. “Damn right it does. Now, let’s talk strategy. If you take the city job, how can you make sure the farm’s in good hands?”

“Well, I could hire someone to help out, maybe even a manager. I could also come back on weekends to check on things and help out where I can.”

“Sounds like a plan. And if you stay on the farm, what’s your strategy for making it more successful?”

“I could look into new farming techniques, maybe diversify our crops or start a small agritourism business. There are a lot of possibilities if I really put my mind to it.”

Bakugo nodded approvingly. “There you go. Either way, you’ve got options and a plan. You’re not going into this blind.”

You felt a surge of determination, the fog of uncertainty beginning to clear. “You’re right. I just need to commit and give it my all, no matter what I choose.”

“Exactly,” Bakugo agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back, and so does everyone else who cares about ya. So stop doubting yourself and make the damn decision.”

With those words, you felt a renewed sense of confidence. “Thanks,” you chuckled softly, leaning forward and giving him a hug. “I needed that. Thank you for always having my back."

He hugged you back, his grip strong. “Whether it’s the farm or the city, you’re gonna kick ass. I am sure about that.”

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 11

Had a few days off from watching anything while I attended the Up All Night asian drama convention. Ironically I talked a bit about this drama on a panel about time travel in dramas, even though I haven't actually finished it yet 😅

Anyway, now I'm ready to resume. I think I can more or less remember how the last episode ended...

What does renting an adult movie have to do with him kissing his girlfriend in public? Is that frowned upon in Korea?

Sunjae has just found out that Im Sol is from the future, and in that future he dies when he's barely into his 30s. All he is concerned about is that Im Sol's mother saw him kissing a girl on the street and might not like him now.

God, I have missed these idiots.

Sunjae doesn't know how he dies but what he does know is that there's no way it could possibly be Im Sol's fault

Oh shit I totally forgot Sunjae's dad currently thinks he's on a plane to the US. This is not going to go well when he finds out...

He is so gone for her. I love him.

Oh, yeah, he missed the audition for the band so he's no longer on the path to becoming an idol now. That means no expensive skincare products for free because looking good is your job

Oh my god all his stuff is on a plane to the US even if he isn't

Hehe! Well, at least the reveal was mostly comedic

Wait, I thought she didn't want him to become an idol to keep him safe

Oh no are we going to end up with another totally different version of the future where Sunjae isn't an idol and her brother and bestie don't end up married.

And now a bag full of condoms intended as a joke wedding gift has ended up in Sunjae's bag by mistake. I'm glad we've eased up on the angst for a bit to do some more lighthearted nonsense

Oh my god he bought them matching phone charms. He is such a loser (affectionate)

I know something terrible is going to happen soon. They're all happy and in love and there's still another 5 episodes to go. I'm glad they get this for a little bit at least.

I am getting so much secondhand embarassment from this whole scene, but also I can't stop laughing. IT'S RAINING CONDOMS 🤣

I am crying I'm laughing so hard. Two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a shower of condoms

He just went into his mind palace to figure out how the condoms got into his bag. This might be my favourite episode so far, as much as I'm enjoying all the time travel and the angst.

I love that grandma is heading up this whole intervention

Well, after that delightful little subplot we are now back to the serial killer who may or may not end up killing Sunjae

Did his dad really get him to go and update Im Sol on the case and tell her that she's in danger. THAT IS LITERALLY THE JOB OF THE POLICE NOT THE FASHION HOUSE SON OF A DETECTIVE. The cops in this really do suck even by k-drama standards.

He is honestly the most sensible character in this whole drama

Uh...you haven't even tried though? The first time he got you it's because you went outside to stop Sunjae getting rained on in the park. Take Sunjae and find a cabin in the woods or something. Or go to America with him.

Okay, dude, you need to dial that back a bit

Taesung is like 'we spent the night together we're bros now'

Aww now they're both drunk and pouring their hearts out to each other

Well if they were buddies after Taesung slept on Sunjae's couch I don't know what snuggling in the same bed like this makes them

Ooh is Sunjae going to sing at their last gig and get back on the idol path?

Ooh they caught him! Except there's still another 5 episodes to go so clearly it's not over yet

Aww there we go he's back on stage

Oh sweetie...

Yep, there we go. Of course he escaped.

But, hey, we got through a whole episode without the sad Jongho song playing even once.

[byrdstrolls]

As You Wish

(teehee, this features a lot of guys! tythus from @moonlit-trolls, the lady of the lake from @celestialtrolls, and finala from @roetrolls!)

(Also please be so nicey to me I haven't managed to write anything in three months)

Dear Diary, 

Five perigees into my leave from the fleet, a strange calm has overtaken me. I’ve found the eye of the hurricane, or some layer of insanity that hurts less than the first. I’ve started to have lunches in the cafe down the street, on the patio. Dangerous, I know. But I am a pack animal, by nature. I could lock myself in this apartment only for so long without breaking. Sitting there, it’s like being surrounded by people while being alone. Even if I talk to no one but my waiter, it’s better than nothing. There have been close calls, inconsequential ones. 

But still too many. I do not think the worker at the place suspects a thing, or would even know what to suspect, how to suspect correctly. I feel like an open wound. But enduring in my silence, none of them can tell. Of all people to have this affliction, it could kill me most surely. I do not trust my fellow troll as far as I could throw one. Now every stranger I meet holds my soul in the palm of their hand. I could die tomorrow. I could not die for sweeps. But what kind of living am I even doing anymore? I am so bored. 

The terror has become second nature to me. I learn quickly around fear. I touch a burning stove, I pull back my hand. My only guiding light, relief, is my research. It would be so easy to fail. But I would try a hundred thousand times on the off chance I could have back my life. Even so things move…

…torturously slow. I need to understand what happened to know how to fix it. But I don’t even know where to start. I have wiled away so many hours reading, finding books to read in the bibliographies of other books. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how to discern esoterica from nonsense, skill from parlor tricks, grifters from sages. 

The uniform does not help. One can hardly poke around the city dressed like a fleet officer asking around for magic trolls before those very people start climbing out the back window! It’s too hot for it anyways, even in the cold season. Curse this thing. I will wear it to my funeral. But as I said at the beginning of this entry. Things are just as bad as they have ever been, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I woke up early yesterday, and watched the sun set from the window, sky dancing in fragments through this tiny place. And I felt a certain stillness, and a strange gratitude, that no matter how humbly I lived now, how much I missed other people and my hive and ship and privileges, things could have been worse. I made it nearly half a sweep. 

I have been very lucky. 

I just need a little more luck now.

.

.

.

.

.

Midway through their lunch break, Leftie peaks over the desk of their stand at a figure who has fixed themselves at the front of the alleyway. At first they thought they were exceptionally huge, but on a second glance, they are just significantly huge, and have on an absolute monster of a coat. Probably fleet. They glance at their own signs, the sandwich in their hand, and then pointedly scot over their chair to face the opposite direction. 

“Excuse me-” The cerulean says, taking a step forward. 

“Excuse me” Leftie retorts. “What does this say?” They say, pointing at the sign on their stand. 

“It says closed, back in thirty minutes, but-” 

“Exactly” The purple replies. “Leave me alone” They order.  

“Nonononono” Viscos mutters under their breath, immediately turning away, walking down the street, they throw up their hands in frustration. 

“G-dammit” They mutter, pulling out their journal and crossing Lefties name off a list. All that poking around, and they had failed so quickly, decisively, and immediately. 

.

.

.

.

.

I shouldn’t have come here, Viscos thinks, but the same protestation entered their mind in a variety of places, from gas stations to libraries to restaurants. So it’s a little more difficult to take it seriously now, even with its precedent. An entire church sect is something more dramatic than some small time magic user. But maybe it was time to be more dramatic, it’s nearly been a half sweep after all, maybe they are this desperate. They can always leave, until they can’t. 

“I understand you are not willing to share the details of your affliction with me.” The hulking mass of the purpleblood says, his plague doctor’s mask tilted ever so slightly downward to stare at the fleet troll. 

“But is there anything you could deluge… anything at all? How does it affect the body? What organs? How did it begin?” Tythus asks. 

Viscos stares up at him for some time. 

“No,” They say. “I can’t tell you that.” 

“As… impossible a task as you have proposed” The man pauses. “To cure a curse without being told what it is, I would try for you.” He says, templing his hands, then pointing them downward. “All I would ask is you stay some time on our commune, working, to repay your debt to me”

“...here” Viscos mutters vaguely, glancing out the apothecaries window. With all these other trolls? 

“Could I serve my time after I’ve been cured?” The cerulean proposes. 

“I… need some kind of assurance you would not run off and take advantage of my kindness. Besides, to figure out your, interesting little puzzle, it’s best for the two of us to get to know each other, right?” 

Viscos stares into the dark black eye holes of the mask, thinking. They had made it this far, farther than they had with other witches. Maybe it was the time to throw caution to the wind. But the reasonable, paranoid voice in their mind that clutches caution so close to their chest their knuckles whiten, calls it here. 

“Then” They say. “I do not think we can work together.” They say, taking one last inhale of their cigarette holder, and leaving the room.

.

.

.

.

.

The next visit is also frustratingly short, or, as it was with Leftie, never really starts in the first place. They are trying to find the domain of the lady of the lake. They can see the peaking lights of hives in the distance, hidden near the water through the flurry of snow, but everytime they try to walk towards them they lose their way, and find themselves back where they started. Ever the pragmatist, they had tried to map the area, on a notepad. With leather gloves and shaking fingers, they marked down monuments and turns as they could, but even the most astute of their markings made no sense. It was as if the landscape itself was changing every time Viscos turned their back. Eventually, it became too cold even for them, and their mother of all coats, to endure, and they went back to the apartment, defeated.  . . .

. .

When they found a witch who was travelling, they thought meticulously on where to meet her. The apartment was out of the question, obviously. They did not want to easily be found again if things went horribly wrong. They could meet at a cafe, but they didn’t want to be overheard. Somewhere public enough to instill a safety that came with being out in the open, but private enough to dissuade curious listeners. They toiled over this for nights before resolving to reserve a study room at the public library. 

They’re sitting there now, foot tapping at the floor with a restless impatience. Their coat propped up on the chair. Every one of these meetings feels like russian roulette. The woman's first words upon entering feel like the sound of a bullet clicking into the chamber. 

Finala opens the door to the room gently, offering a friendly wave and smile, but it’s not long after she steps into the room that she pauses, a brief concern welling up in her eyes. 

“Oh…” She exhales. “I see. You’re cursed.” 

Viscos stands up immediately, having prepared to dance around the subject of their affliction, and unsettled by how quickly and seamlessly Finala had noticed. 

“How did you know that?” They say, guarded. 

“I have a sense for such things.” She says, raising her arms in surrender. “If it eases you, I don’t know the specifics, but I might be able to help you were you to fill me in”

Viscos stares into her eyes, unsure what they’re searching for. Their paranoia battling with their desperation, and the paranoia wins out in the end. The cerulean picks up their coat, scrambling for the door. 

“Please don’t leave” She says gently, not even knowing what she’s just done. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

And just like that, they stiffen, rooted to the spot, cursing their luck and their foolishness, turning back to glare at the woman as if she had just done something horrible to them. 

Finala traces the look in their eyes for a moment, thinking. 

“I see. It’s something to do with speech then.” She deduces. “Then I won’t speak until you tell me how to avoid it. If you’d rather simply take your leave, feel free. But know that I will not say another word to you without your permission.” 

If only it were that simple, for them to be released with a ‘feel free’. Viscos once again wills their feet forward, but their body doesn’t listen to them. They stand there, time dragging on. Trying to think their way out. It’s only after the first minute or so they begin to realize Finala is serious about not speaking. She’s still standing across the room, mouth shut, waiting. Was there some way to tell her without telling her? Viscos eventually sighs, walking over and sitting back down in the chair. 

“I can’t… be given orders” The cerulean says, gesturing vaguely. But it’s enough to piece the puzzle together regardless. The realization hits Finala all at once, and works its way backwards through the conversation that preceded it. They had not had a change of heart, she realizes. They had literally been unable to leave from the moment she told them not too. She stares at the cerulean, eyebrow raising as if asking if this was permission to speak. 

“You can speak,” They say. “If you don’t tell me to do things.” They add, as a condition. 

“Poor thing… I can only imagine the strife this has brought you” She says, taking a step closer. She pauses, thinking for a moment, and begins to speak slowly. “I’ll consider my words carefully- wouldn’t want to trigger the effect.” She turns to the side. 

“If… I told you to rest assured that I have no desire to abuse your curse, would that force your hand?” 

“Yes” They answer. 

“Well. Then if you so please, you may choose to rest assured that is the case. Is me telling you not to leave, still in effect?” 

They’re in this deep, Viscos thinks. If they’re fucked, they are already fucked. Might as well not mince words. 

“Yes,” They say. “It can only be cancelled out by another, contradictory direct order.” 

“Then, I order you to leave when you see fit.” She says. 

Viscos pauses. Surely, something like all this had been what they wanted to hear, yes? Was this not the best way this could have gone? They had not made it this far with any of the other witches. But there is no relief in it, all they continue to feel is frustrated with their own vulnerability. They stare at the ground for a long moment, before sighing, rolling up the sleeve of their uniform, to reveal a sigil, that almost looks tattooed onto the skin, a symbol of four wings, a crown, and esoteric scribbling, that had appeared, immovable, on their forearm since the moment they were touched by magic. 

“Do you know how to fix it?” They say, fighting to keep the waver from their voice. 

Finala pauses, delicately taking the arm in her hands, stepping closer to look at the sigil. 

“I’m not entirely familiar with this.” She says. “But… this mark is… it seems like someone worked hard to tie this spell specifically to its caster. You’d likely need that witch to remove it” She admits, knowing that’s likely not what they want to hear. 

Viscos gives a long sigh. Why’d they pick a meeting place where they couldn’t smoke? Their fists open and close around a lack of cigarettes. 

“I hoped you wouldn’t say that.” They exhale. 

“I’m sorry. I assume you and who made it are still on uneven terms?” 

“Worse” Viscos sighs. “She’s dead.”

[moodymisty]

Hiya! Could I request some Magnus / GN! Reader shenanigans? Like the reader is trying to learn a spell (to impress Magnus), does it by "The books are just guidelines anyways", and it works. Then they go to show Magnus and confusion hell breaks loose Blease and thankyou <3<3<3

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Magnus time! I was actually working on something just like this, so this gave me the motivation to really spruce it up and finish it. But I really apologize because when I reread your request I realized I might've gone a bit less silly than you might've wanted. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationship: Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None apart from this being my first time writing Magnus so please forgive me figuring him out I'm sorry if he feels off

Word Count: 1220

Sorcery is by it's very nature, finicky.

It has no solid answer, no yes or no. It's not as if it's a machine you can turn on or off, or a star you can see is alive or dead. It's an ebb and flow- something you feel.

But how do you feel something you've never felt before?

These tomes are largely nonsensical to you; The scribblings of madmen, words with no translation and sentences backwards.

You'd once again today attempted to make sense of it all, to tempt your better judgement that kept saying it maybe wasn't your most intelligent idea, but nothing has happened yet. So now you sit in bed, flicking through pages of tomes scattered across the blankets; Attempting to perhaps make enough sense of it and not bring anymore embarrassment to yourself than you already have.

In your fussiness you've already given yourself two different paper cuts, licking your wounds both physical and mental. You should probably be sleeping, the stars are out bright, and the wind gently raps against the windows as you study.

Magnus' tower is so ethereal, you look towards the window for a moment and see nothing but the midnight sky illuminating everything underneath it.

After thinking, you look back towards the oversized tome in your lap, lying on your thighs over top of a blanket. You'd picked many of the books not necessarily at random, but attempting to find the most basic of starting places from a collection that puts most others to shame. Magnus has many shelves up here, filled with his personal collection of tomes and scrolls. You sort've wish he was here to help guide you, but at the same time, you wish to surprise him to some degree.

You try just one more time, attempting to light a small ember in your palm. You follow every word exactly as the instructions- if you could call them that, and mange to hold it for only a few moments before it flickers away as if blown out by breath.

"Ugh!"

You drop your head, it coming quite close to hitting the pages of the tome.

"What is this?"

Your head suddenly whips upright, seeing Magnus himself standing in the doorway across the room. You don't know how you hadn't heard his footsteps, though you suppose you were far too distracted for your ears to prick to any other sound than what was right next to you.

Entering the room and closing the massive door behind him, Magnus takes in the scenery he's missed while aboard Photep, traveling the stars. After his quick glances he focuses on you cross legged in his bed, surrounded by opened and unopened books.

"Magnus!" He slowly walks closer to the beside, one finger brushes a tome he's clearly familiar with and opening it to a particular page; Glossing over it before he lets it gently fall back shut.

"Now, what are you concocting in that little mind of yours that requires so many spell tomes?"

Magnus watches amused as you close the book in your lap, legs cross underneath it and look at your slightly burned palm.

"I was trying to call fire. But it seems it's a bit harder than I thought." His smile fades a bit softer, watching your expression. The fabric of his robes is weaved with gold string that shines in the soft candle light.

"You seem to have had it, from what I saw."

You can feel his long red hair brush against your arm as he sits beside you, his massive height and weight difference forcing the appropriately massive bed to dip heavily to his side. It almost makes you roll, but you quickly adjust to prevent that. Now in your atmosphere it's a bit easier to look him in the eye, but you still have to crane your next a decent bit.

"I was following the tomes exactly like they said, and the best I can do is a little baby kindling. I'd have trouble even setting a letter alight."

You look up towards him, hands playing with the edges and filigree of the old, worn tome in your lap. Magnus speaks up, his tone curious and a bit surprised.

"Exactly?"

His eye glances down to the front cover of the tome in your hand, and recognizes that one instantly. With one hand, he gently reaches underneath the covers and gently clamps the tome shut, the top of his hand laying against your thighs before he pulls the tome towards his chest.

"Then you are taking it all far too literally." Perhaps the book shouldn't be written so literally then, you rebelliously think. He lays the tome aside, and uses the same hand to gently cup your jaw between his fingers and look up at him.

"it's far more of a feeling that anything, my love. If you keep just following the tomes, you might end up burning something down. Or as you've noticed, burning nothing at all." He lets out a laugh, feeling your cheeks move under his finger tips.

"I never thought you to be so studious in following directions. Perhaps you'd prefer Primarch Guilliman to myself?" You let out a harsh puff of air through your closed lips, making an insulting noise. Your hand grips his wrist and tries to pull it away, but to no avail, and instead you just grip the massive muscles of his arm and scowl.

"Funny."

He smiles wider. How you speak to him so casually now, compared to months ago. Perhaps his teasing makes it easier for you to forget who he is. He doesn't mind it.

A testament to your determination, you'd been able to cast something despite a lack of knowledge; But you could do well in having someone set you on the right path. Afterall, Magnus knows simply treating something with such an ebb and flow as sorcery as rules you can memorize will never bear any fruit.

Magnus can guide you, and truthfully, he would love for nothing more than to.

His sons don't need to be taught. They learn from his actions, and most are more than capable of progressing on their own and honing their own skills. To be able to teach his beloved something that is such a core part of himself, to guide your hand and your mind to touch something greater- he finds himself almost, dare he say excited.

He's rough on his sons, he knows they can take it. That they're built for sorceries and touching the warp. But with you he'll have to be gentle. The thought of it, to sit with you and show you wondrous things that your home planet kept from your eyes, he would start right now if not for one thing.

Magnus lets go of your jaw. He leans down and gently brushes a kiss against your temple, his fire red hair brushing against your skin again.

"Now, as much as I don't wish to part you from your reading, I have returned from Terra at my absolute wits end and desiring some rest." He smiles and vaguely gestures to the mess you've made of his bed during his absence. He can see other little messes throughout his chambers, as well.

"So my love, perhaps you could move your research, off the bed?"

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Finally went through my following page and saw Lorain requests? I’m going to be here so much. Anyway I have an idea of like a soft fluffy lorcan bedtime routine thing. Soft lorcan is my weakness.

Right I need a strong scary fea worrier today

Tender evenings

Walking through the city streets you pulled your cloak tighter around your body. Today was a lot. You usually were able to go through the day with ease even with almost nothing going your way. It was rare for you to slip up or fail to flash someone a fake smile but today you just couldn't do it.

You wanted to blame the colder weather at first. Who truly liked the weather getting more bitter? Well, it was fun at first, sure, but now not even two weeks into the colder months, you were missing the sunshine. The lack of it only added to your cranky mood and not only yours it seemed.

You loved working for Aelin. You were just as aware of the necessity of political arrangements, meetings, visits, and other courtly nonsense. At times it was even fun to be able to have control over things like this. And finishing it off with a drink in a pub with Lysandra while you two laughed over how pathetic some of the males in the meetings that day had been would be more than enough to recharge your battery.

Today was a completely different story. You attended the meetings alone. There had been some unsettling decisions made by some members of different courts. Decisions that threatened your people. Decisions that threatened you queen and king and even if Rowan and Aelin were more than capable of defending themselves you still had your duties to carry out.

Just nothing had gone right. All you had all day were people shouting at your face. Throwing names and insults left and right. At first, you smiled through them. Smiled till the words began to sting and your mind had started to work against you. When you finally managed to get everything settled and make everyone agree on one thing it was way past the time you were supposed to have been back.

You didn't even bother to walk past the dining hall. The thought of seeing another breathing creature made your bones ache within. Plus, you knew that no owner would check the reports you had today anyways. So you slipped up the stairs to the chambers that you shared with your lover. Counting the steps till the mixed scent of both of you would feel your senses.

Lorcan. He was utterly unhappy this morning to part ways. He, Gavriel, and Fenrys were sent on their little adventure. If you could call that. Some people had to be watched and while the other two were brilliant fea worriers no one slipped through shadows more quietly than Lorcan.

"Don't miss me too much", you teased, flicking his nose playfully as you stood outside still waiting for the other two to show up. Lorcan's arms were loosely wrapped around your torso. "I give you an hour before you'll be tugging on the bond asking me to tell you that I love you", he chirped back happily, knowing from the way your mouth fell open that he was right. "Fine, fine I see how it is", you were about to cross your arms over your chest but Lorcan caught both of them in his hands. Bringing each of your plans to his lips before pulling you closer to him, so he could kiss you.

Truth be told you've been missing him ever since you two parented. It was hard not to. Lorcan was a part of you. His absence was hard to miss and you couldn't blame your heart for aching just a little. And it ached even more as you walked through the door realizing that your lover wasn't indeed back home yet.

With a deep sigh, you light the fire in the fireplace. Moving to the bathing chamber to fill up the huge tub with hot water. Knowing well that Lorcan would be as desperate for a hot bath as you were. Just maybe not as cold as you were. Considering that he was never cold, while your bones hover throbbed within you. It truly felt that the dampness of the day had settled deeper into your body than you had wanted to.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you felt a familiar tinge in your chest. Turning your head to the side just as the door to your bedroom opened. Lorcan always did this. If he loved threatening people with his silent arrivals, breathing onto their backs, and squeezing that fear of anticipation out of them, he never came to you without announcing it first. He had made you jump multiple times beforehand. The second time results in you dropping the kettle with water in it. Luckily not boiling one but it was enough of a threat to Lorcan. Meaning that now anytime he was close you would feel this rush of warmth bubbling inside your chest.

His face was stone cold like it always was. No one could read his expression except for you. To you even his blank face had different emotions lingering somewhere and now you could tell that he was tired. Tired and annoyed. Meaning that something also hadn't gone the way it was supposed to.

"Talk to me", Lorcan threw his jacket over the armchair carelessly. Undoing a couple of buttons of his shirt as he walked closer to you. "I'm fine", you started but Lorcan knew this was a lie. He knew you better than you knew yourself most of the time and even if he failed to acknowledge that, his senses screamed at him that something was wrong. Not to mention that even if you closed off your side of the bond for better concentration his years of experience still managed to slip through.

"Maybe you can trick them, it won't work on me", the warrior stated firmly, letting his much bigger palms rest on your dainty shoulders. Fingers moving to work through the painful knots that had formed in your shoulders. You let your eyes fall shut. Welcoming the warmth that your lover's hands carried and the tender touch it never failed to provide you.

"Lorcan", you muttered, reaching for his palm. You couldn't let him do this. Because this would break through the wall you had built in need to survive today. Too many emotions were pusshed behind it. Letting them out would most definitely mean tears and crying was the last thing you wanted to do. Yet Lorcan didn't care. Even with your hands placed on his he still worked his fingers into your back. Slowly but surely feeling your muscles ease.

"I don't want to talk about it", admitting it felt weird but once you met your lover's eyes as you tilted your head back you knew that he understood. Lorcan gave you a light smile that in his true fashion was more of a grin, "You don't have to but when you do I will listen". Leaning in he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before returning to his previous position.

You always loved how easy it was with him. How for the most part you didn't even need words. How much love he carried into little things that he did. He knew how you liked your tea, or how some foods mixing on your plate would weird you out. He knew how you needed silence sometimes just like Lorcan did. Being mated didn't mean that there were no boundaries. Yes, you two were one. But you had been two very independent and strong-minded individuals for decades. And as fun and fulfilling as it was to find your other half, your soulmate the desire to still be yourself and be able to find time to be with yourself still stayed a priority.

Your bottom lip quivered and Lorcan kneeled beside you instantly. He didn't say anything and in all honesty, he didn't need to. His hands rested on your thighs as he waited. If you wanted to be alone and dismissed him - Lorcan would go. Even if he wished to stay. But you didn't. Instead, you stretched your arms out, wrapping them around your lover's broad shoulders.

"Hold me...", you muttered out. Lorcan nodded. Pulling your body closer to his, arms looping around your back, putting pressure on your tensed back. To let your body know that he was there. To let your brain know that you weren't alone. Your fingers slipped up into Lorcan's thick black hair. Carefully undoing the tie holdings his hair away from his face. Just so you could run your fingers through it. Just so you can have that one more asset of him grounding you.

"I've got you, dove", he whispered into your hair. Placing delicate kisses onto your shoulder. One after the other. Each is followed by tender words of reassurance. "Just need...", you started, "I know and you got me. I'm right here with you", Lercan was quick to reassure you. Tugging onto your body a bit more so you would sit on his lap. It wasn't very lord-like to sit on the floor of your bedroom but Lorcan was far from caring as he wrapped you up in his arms, making sure you were comfortable in his embrace.

It had been so long till he had given instead of taken before he had met you. Lorcan didn't know the power of true loving until he realized that the spirits above have woven you just for him. Oh, how he tried to fight the odds of loving you. No way, there was no way that someone like you could ever love someone like him but here you were in his arms. Craving nothing more but to keep you safe and happy. Lorcan pressed yet another kiss against your temple letting his lips linger there a bit longer this time. Letting the calmness from within him flow through your body.

The fire was near to going out when you looked back up at your mate. "Hey, gorgeous", Lorcan said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your hair. You only smiled up at him, going back to nuzzling into his chest. "I suggest a bath and then I'll grab you a plate from downstairs", humming at your mate's words, holding onto his shoulders as he stood up with no struggle, still holding you up in his arms.

[nikethestatue]

I’m starting to genuinely worry about the upcoming elriel book (if it ever comes out). SJM and Bloomsbury are taking way too long and refusing to give us a single a crumb, and the fandom is spiraling every day because of it. While I love Elriel’s quiet and understanding relationship, it’s getting harder and harder to keep rampant interest in them because of the lack of new content, which is genuinely a shame since I found this lovely part of the fandom because of them.

My biggest fear is that even after this never-ending wait. SJM will fail to deliver. CC3 was a dumpster fire and ACOSF was all over the place, and both were highly anticipated within her following. Plus, now SJM has to juggle two extremely loved characters (Azriel and Lucien) and fully flesh out Elain, who’s been pretty mysterious throughout the books. I feel like too many smut scenes (like in ACOSF) will be jarring (especially if she includes any BDSM, which I’m a little against), and elriel honestly deserves more than just having sex in secret and calling it a day. I think that above all, I really just want SJM to tune the book to their personalities and give us all what we’ve been hoping for: a romantic, hot, magical book that puts to rest the nonsensical debates within the fandom and elevates Elain and Azriel’s characters even more.

I don’t want her to try please parts of the fandom, or give any attention to E*ucien/Gw*nriel, or even prove all of our theories right. I just want a good book.

Anyway, I’m so sorry for the rant. What are your thoughts on SJM’s silence and where the book might go? You’re always very clear and rational with your take on things. 💜

Thank you! And feels free to rant, because I think you aren't the only one and we are all in the same boat.

I think I am on a different spectrum now. I used to be very worried about the content of the book. And now ...I am not even sure there will be a book within the time frame of my interest. Meaning, by the time it comes out, will I even truly care?

Beyond that, we don't even know who the MCs will be. And that's always been my biggest problem. My biggest fear. What if the book isn't even Elain's?

And no, I am not even worried about GA or Elucien. I don't believe that SJM would ever write GA or that it even crossed her mind. What I fear is that SJM is going to do something utterly strange--like another Nesta book. 'The Adventures of Nesta in Erilea'!--something like that.

Because her inability to ever clearly say, Elain is the next FMC lives rent free in my mind.

Like I still remember the absolutely catastrophic sense of dejection when she casually announced that the book following HOSAB would be HOFAS. That was a massive mindfuck.

So I suppose to me, at this point, and with the complete silence that's coming from her and BB, I am not even thinking about what the book will be ABOUT. I am just thinking will the book be Elain's?

It's been Elain-silence pre-HOFAS, it's been complete silence about anything and everything post HOFAS.

I don't even understand what happened to the HOFAS paperback. Not that anyone needs it, but at least it's some news?

I genuinely cannot explain the complete silence and the utter disengagement from the readers. It's baffling.

[btnclmrttn]

I rewatched with my younger cousin Carmen sandiego and was thinking....

What if reader was an infamous theft criminal (cheeky little shit) and then there's saitama who is likely annoyed or just has pure excitement and determination because he keeps letting her slip from his grasp like bitchbsiwjke-

This is literally a Batman Catwoman and enemies to lovers sort of vibe

- ❤️

(omg the idea of Saitama letting shit like this slide is like him totally edging himself fr asdfghjkl I'm so into it. I hope the wait for this was worth it for you! Sorry I took so long. I really need to write more enemies to lovers fr 🤧)

Brief Encounter (Saitama/Criminal!Reader)

Saitama thought today was a good day to get his grocery shopping done to get it out of the way. Who knows how busy the week is going to be? There are always monsters, and crime, and ridiculous prices on fresh vegetables. It's sort of consistent...chaotic, but consistent.

It's nice having sunsets to look at on a walk, between the colors in the sky and what it makes everything else look like in its light. Sometimes that blue sky can be a bit of an eyesore. Just too bright sometimes. The buildings above cast large shadows that make everything less obnoxious and more calming.

Beside him, he notices a small moment in the shadow of a building that just catches his eye by instinct. He follows the shadow with his eyes up to where it's coming from. Is it a cat? He wouldn't mind seeing one right now.

"Oh, seriously?" Saitama groans, realizing it's a familiar figure creeping around subtly on top of the building.

There's you too. You mean trouble. Someone he thought was just a petty criminal at first that the police could manage has made a real name for herself. In such a short time as well. He can't deny that's rather impressive.

He really doesn't get you. All this skill and potential you have is just going to waste on dumb things. The way you act towards him, too. Well, it makes him feel weird, is the best he can describe. You're really weird...and persistent about it...

He sighs to himself as he makes his way to the building you're likely going to cross, scaling it with one jump and blocking your path.

"Hey! Don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing."

The sudden unexpected appearance of him surprises you, making you stop dead in your tracks. He isn't wearing his hero suit today, though, he's rather casual. A rare sight for you since your encounters are typically "professional" in nature. You straighten up with a smile as you take in his nice look.

"...Well if you must know, I haven't even done anything, yet! What, were you spying on me?" You tease.

"Yet? It's kinda early in the week for your nonsense, isn't it?" he replies, ignoring your question.

"And you're keeping tabs on my habits?" you laugh as you place a hand on your hip, "Saitama, am I really on your mind that much?"

It crosses Saitama's mind how casual he's gotten with this criminal. They even know each other's names now, along with, well, yeah, he's gotten pretty familiar with her habits.

"Don't get the wrong idea here. You might just be getting predictable."

"Oh, predictable? Is that it? Could you explain to me, then, why a hero goes out of his way to chase me down but not catch me? Really, if I'm so predictable I'd be easy to ignore and avoid. Or maybe...tattle and get me caught?"

Getting called out like that makes his face break its poker expression for a more irritated one. His eyes can't decide whether to stay on yours, or the sway of your hips as you make your way to him, but he remains grounded.

"I'm not gonna go out of my way to do the police's job. It's not worth wasting my time on, anyway. Like I said before, though, you should really sit and consider your potential to be a hero if you're this good at what you do."

He does flinch a bit when your face slowly leans in closer to his, with his cheeks dusting a shade of pink.

"Then why "waste" your time following me like this, hm?" you purr, "You just that nice of a guy? Trying to be everyone's hero?"

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, with his brows setting a bit lower as his pupils dance from side to side, taking in the color of your eyes, and down to your lips.

"Seriously, ____? This is getting pretty cheesy," he dodges the question. His whole body now draws back a bit as you close in more, trying to keep space so your lips don't brush.

You reach up and grab his blushing cheeks to stop him from going any further, letting your eyes fall to his lips before looking back up. You can't feel the warmth of any breath from him. He's holding it.

"Mm, I like the way my name sounds when you say it~"

There's a darker shade that tints his cheeks hearing that. He lets a silence draw out before he shakes his head from your grasp then steps away, pushing you back with his hand to your shoulder and looking to his side.

"...Now you quit that," he mumbles.

"You know as much as I love to sit and chat with you, I really do have somewhere to be," you say as you side step around him, "I would hate to be late."

"You really get on my nerves...," He grumbles to himself, now trying to just avoid being close by letting you get around him.

"So I do have an effect on you?" You ask, turning your head back to him.

Saitama stares you down as he looks at the corners of your mouth tugging up. He points a finger at you, his face unchanging.

"You need to get your act cleaned up...and your attitude. It's gonna all come back to you one day. I don't think you can handle the taste of your own medicine."

"Well, if you ever have a day where you're more free, I can show you exactly what I can handle~"

The sultry sound of your voice sent with a wink makes the hand that pointed at you clench into a fist, redness sinking into Saitama's face deeper, "Will you- will you quit that!?"

"Enjoy your day off, Saitama!"

"Now wait a seco-"

A loud pop rings out before smoke fills his field of vision.

"Smoke Bomb?! THAT WAS REALLY CLICHE!" He shouts as his eyes navigate through the thick smoke. It wasn't hard to catch your location again, watching you run off. To him it's almost baffling. He could easily catch you. Hell, he could snatch you up and have you thrown in jail by lunchtime.

Yet he watches you make your escape, his eyes following the movement of your legs, up to your behind, your back, until you're out of his line of sight completely.

Saitama let's out a long sigh while he pinches the bridge of his nose, "This lady...I swear...why do I keep letting this slide?"

He rubs the tingling parts of his cheeks where you touched him as he starts walking off, grumbling to himself.

[brighttears]

Bond

Joel Miller x f!reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: you and Joel rest in bed in the QZ. 

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: very brief mentions of violence, pet names (baby girl, darling)

A/n: put some pieces and parts together… lets get some teeth rotting sweetness up in heeyuuu. wrote this to the lullaby version of where is my mind btw. (also the only reason this is f! is bc of babygirl)

—

The QZ near midnight is silent. With the window closed, it’s almost as if you’re not even there at all. All there is is you and Joel, the bed you lay on, and the golden bedside light, gifting you the sight of him leaned above you, your shoulder resting against his bicep with your legs tangled. 

You watch your hands move like ocean waves, knitting your fingers, slipping your palms around his hand, his fingertips over your knuckles, thumb brushing up and down the side of your hand, kneading your palm, you dragging your fingertips from his own to the heel. With the rest of the world quiet, a string hooking your minds together allows you to just listen to the silent melody of each other. The bedside lamp ignites Joel’s skin in a golden glow, dark eyes awakened into the richness of their brown. 

“I wish the world would just stop right now.” You whisper. 

“Me too.” 

“I don’t want to have anything to do with anything else.”

“Me neither.” Joel mumbles, closing his eyes as he brings your hand to his lips, letting your palm rest in his as he plants small kisses along your knuckles. When he opens his eyes, he raises your hands to pet his cheek with the back of your hand. You watch his eyelashes, then trail your gaze to the empty veins of crow's feet, down to the little silver heart by the corner of his mouth, then along his lips, slightly pouted in their relaxation, back up to the scar hiding in his hairline. 

“What’chu thinkin’ about?” Joel mumbles, shifting your palms back together and lazily twining your fingers. 

“Too much.” You smile lightly. 

“Wull, tell me. I like listenin’ t’you.”

You sigh a chuckle, then turn your head to look out the window. It’s dark and still outside. Breathing in deeply, you flip your gaze back at Joel. Watching his wander around you, you have to catch back up with your trail of thought. 

“It’s a lot.” You chuckle lightly again. 

Letting his eyes continue to wander, Joel mumbles again, almost absentmindedly, “I wanna hear all of it.”

You take a deep breath before you begin, voice languidly quiet, “It’s just… you know, I’ve done so fucking much to… survive, lost so much, killed so much… et cetra, et cetra… to do what? Survive some more. Starve some more. Lose more. Yada yada yada yada.” You take a deep, contemplating breath before continuing, “I was just thinking… it never crossed my mind that I could do something more than losing. I never thought about making something. Someone. Something. ‘Creating a life with someone’, they used to say. So many phrases that sound like nonsense now.” You shake your head. “Anyways. I don’t know, it’s just like, there’s all this shit—garbage to sift through and sit in and just fucking rot in… but… I don’t know. It’s like…” you huff, losing confidence. When you glance up at him, his expression makes you stay, caught in his soft eyes, comforting ones that look right into you and settle in, eyes that look like home. They remind you that there’s nothing to be afraid of, that Joel cares and wants to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want to say. “It’s like, we’ve made something. You know? I feel like we’ve made something. Even if it’s just… out of some crazy bullshit, I don’t know, out of some garbage, I guess.”

Joel pauses, then says, “‘Garbage’ isn’t the wrong word,” he smirks, eyes still with you, “but I… I feel like there’s somethin’ else to it. Like… yeah, I’d say it’s…” he shrugs, “pretty much all garbage, but there’s still… humanness to it,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know if that’s the right word. What I mean is, there’s still… love in the garbage. It’s more like… it’s part of the mess. You know?”

Joel has never been much of talker, always preferring to keep his thoughts locked inside, but in moments like this, when you’re simply suspended in a bubble, they flow out of him like gummy, pink blood, real and raw and beautiful. You can’t help a wide smile. 

“‘Part of the mess.’ Yeah, I like that.”

Joel smiles lightly. “So, yeah, you’re right. I just wanted to…” his voice down to a whisper, “I don’t know, I just thoughta that.”

“Yeah. I really like that, Joel.” You press your smile into his shoulder.

He continues and your eyes close on their own, like a spell cast by his warmth, “Yeah, I like that. ‘Part of the mess.’ I like bein’... part of the mess with you. I guess you make it seem more like a mess than just garbage. Yeah. I feel like we made somethin’. I didn’t think about it either until you said it. I feel it, though. I feel it.” Joel gently releases your hand, leaving it free in the air, and slivers his over your chest, resting on your collarbone. “I feel it.” The weight of his touch makes you sigh, pushing a deep, full breath from your lungs. 

“My baby girl.” Joel whispers, and you turn your head and open your eyes to meet his, half lidded, deeply relaxed, fully here. You reach your hand up to stroke your fingers along his beard, and he leans into your touch. 

All you do is look at each other for a while, simply beholding, before he slowly leans into your lips. 

The kiss is slow, sedated, earnest. Easy. 

It’s so easy to be with Joel, truly be. You never thought you would ever feel this way again, but laying here with him makes everything feel ok. No reason to run or hide, hurt or kill, fight or flight, nothing. You and Joel rest in your own cosmos, the only two beings in the universe, nothing else but being with each other. 

Pulling his lips away slowly, staying close enough that you both keep your eyes closed, the whisper he speaks in is almost only into your parted lips, “I would burn the whole world down for you.”

“You don’t have to.” You whisper back, “I don’t care about the world. Fuck the world. All there is is you and me. In this bed. In our empire.”

“Empire.” Joel chuckles breathily, and you can see his tilted smile even with your eyes closed. 

“You and me. King and queen of this bed.”

“The air is ours.” Joel smiles into your lips, smooching noisily and messily before parting the seam again. “Look at me, darlin’.”

You do, finding a curve between his brows. “What is it?”

“Nothin’. Just missed you.”

“I’m right here.” You let your mouth curve sluggishly, once again subdued in his gaze, hand landing in his soft hair. 

“I know. Missed you anyways.” 

“I’ll never leave.” You assure him quietly. 

“Me neither.” He says, quieter. 

“We can just stay here, in our messy, quiet empire.”

Joel smiles, then lets it go in a sigh, finding your hand with his again. “I love you.” 

Watching their slow dance, “I love you,” you reply.