#<- punch in the face in the most light hearted positive way ever

[bettertwin1]

Also I broke my Bi friend yesterday using Cowboy PeePaw and I have no regrets >:3

Yes I made the picture rainbow for a reason :3

I love gay people!!!!!!!!!

[izvmimi]

Katsuki handles you extremely gently for the most part, which is why when you find yourself at the tail end of play-wrestling in the midday on Saturday, wrists bound together in a firm, one-handed grasp and a leg locked against him at the hip, you’re a bit surprised. Your lips form into a soft ‘o’ as you let out a pant; conversely, his breathing is still, having not exerted very much effort, but you can practically feel his heart pound in his chest.

Or possibly it’s wishful thinking, given the way your own heart races.

Katsuki pauses for a moment, then dips in close, kissing your forehead.

“Had enough?” he asks.

“What if I said no?” you quip. In reply, his face buries in the crook of your neck and he snorts softly.

“Why don’t we make love, not war?” 

You’d admonish him on the cheesiness of the statement, but you don’t have the energy to. By now, Katsuki has relaxed his hold on your wrists and your leg, but you let your thighs and calves find new positioning wrapped around his waist as he lowers his weight onto you. He’s heavy, but it’s a familiar, comfortable heaviness that keeps you warm.

“Don’t like roughhousing with you,” he murmurs softly, still unmoving. Your bodies breathe in and out together, and you let yourself hold him even closer, hooking your left arm around his neck gently and running your right through his hair. 

Perhaps somewhere this is another form of a wrestling lock, but you’re decidedly loving, letting fingers trace between the blonde spikes to scratch his scalp.

Katsuki appreciates your softness just as much as your feistiness at times, and perhaps the former he needs a little more at this time.

You lay together for a moment, remembering when you sparred for real once years ago while at UA, and how quickly he folded.

Perhaps you cheated, you think as you conjure up the memory.

…

Paired together for sparring despite your friends’ apprehensive looks, you take up the challenge gladly. Light on your feet, the two of you move in concert towards and away from each other quickly as you trade blows - a narrow dodge of a punch with a sidestep. You grab his hand, and Katsuki’s surprise emboldens you as you plant your foot firmly on the ground and use your momentum to throw him over your shoulder.

Collective gasps abound from your watching classmates as Katsuki hits the ground, hard. You smile once he’s quick to jump back to his feet, wider still as he grumbles out loud.

“You’re so goddamn sneaky.”

He resumes a fighting stance. The ring is relatively small, a chalky circle about 8 bodies in diameter, but he still hasn’t fallen out of bounds. Red-faced, he’s lunged at you again (Izuku in the crowd comments that he must be more upset that he can’t use his quirk than the fight itself) and you sidestep him once more before tripping him. He loses his balance just for a moment, but jumps back into a back handstand then rights himself. 

He does look like he’s getting his ass kicked, but your friend heckles him first with the truth.

“He’s blinded by love, go easy on him!”

Aizawa shoots her a disapproving look, and your cheeks warm, but you don’t let yourself get distracted. You won’t know how right she is until later, anyway.

Time elapses - you block another heavy roundhouse kick that causes you to skid but you stay standing as you brace for impact, your heels digging into soft ground.

“I told you I won’t ever go easy on you,” Katsuki hisses. 

He follows this up with a leg sweep that has you tumble over him, and you somersault to regain control, but Katsuki has your leg by the ankle, pulling until you dangle for a moment, but you land a punch straight into his gut despite your upside down position.

Your friend screams again to ‘get his ass!’ amongst your classmates and gets another look from Aizawa. 

But Katsuki has let go with the force of the shock and you shoot backwards and prepare for an axe kick. He blocks, but for a split second he loses his resolve - the look on your face is fierce, and he remembers exactly why he has a crush on you.

The two of you jump back and separate to the opposite sides of the ring.

“If you don’t get serious, you’ll lose,” you tease.

“I’m going easy on you,” he finally claims, gruffly.

“You literally said otherwise 15 seconds ago.”

An ooooooo runs through the crowd that makes him scowl, and he takes off again with another lunge. You block, a move that makes Shoto shake his head at the bad choice, and you skid backwards from the sheer power behind the punch, making it almost closer to the borders of the ring. The subsequent onslaught is hard and you’re about to make it out of bounds.

Until you try a desperate move.

Leaning forward suddenly as if you were to kiss him, red blooms on his face, and he immediately backs off.

Izuku cups his face in his palms.

A leapfrog jump over him and a slight push, and he’s out of the ring, having fallen flat on his ass.

Denki, Sero and Kirishima don’t let him live it down for hours.

…

You definitely did cheat.

And perhaps in a way you are now, because he’s putty in your hands as he melts into you. 

But you’re no longer fighting, whether playful or not - teeth, tongue, lips don’t clash but rather dance and glide together; fingers and palms caress and worship each other in your joint embrace.

No power struggle between you two to be found anywhere - if anything perhaps in a way, you’ve always had the upper hand, being fully adored by him.

Regardless of how much stronger he is than you, whether it is in physical ability or will or resolve, he’d still very easily and consistently succumb to your love.

[minus-plus-zer0]

One Good Grovel

♡ Genre: Fluff (trust me), little crack ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Established relationships

You and Katsuki had your biggest fight in a while.

Both sides fought like they were out for blood. You two said things you shouldn't have, things that were hard to take back. It ended with Bakugou storming out of your shared apartment.

The moment he did, he regretted it. But he didn't know how to go back inside and say it.

Hours later after he came home from doing errands, Bakugou found you on the couch. You hadn't answered any of his texts, and Bakugou never felt so helpless before. He was already losing you fast, and he couldn't dawdle now. Bakugou dumped his groceries on the kitchen counter and then approached you. Neither of you said anything.

You still looked torn up about your earlier argument, your hair a little messy in a way that Bakugou liked. He'd prefer to be the one messing it up himself, but he knew he didn't deserve that privilege now. Bakugou threw an extra blanket over you, because you looked like you needed one.

"Yo," Bakugou said, sitting down beside you on the couch. "How've you been holding up?"

"...I don't wanna talk about it. Not with you."

Your voice was frail, quiet. It broke Bakugou's heart, knowing that he put you in this position.

He had to make it right.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou said. "For everything I said. I wouldn't be surprised if ya never wanted to talk to me ever again after this." You looked at him suspiciously. "It'd kill me if you did, but that's fine. 'Cause I value your feelings over mine. When I was out today, all I could think about was you and what I said to you. So I bought you some gifts and I really hope you'll love 'em."

Bakugou reached out to stroke your hair. "And I promise you, I'll never say that demeaning shit to you ever again. You mean more to me than winning that stupid argument, and I don't know where I'd be in my life without you by my side. I was wrong, okay? I was dead wrong for treating you like that, like anything less than the best. Most of all, I just want ya to take me back and love me. But I won't force ya to do anything. I can walk out that door again and leave you alone if you asked. And if you hate me forever... I understand."

You smiled at him. "...Okay, I hear you."

"...So do ya hate me now?"

You still smiled. "Only a whole bunch. You monster." You playfully punched him in the face.

"Sorry," Bakugou said, matching your sweet expression. "I deserved that. Punch me all ya want. Won't even stop ya."

You gave him several more feather-light punches. "You're soooo dead."

"Ya gonna call the cops on me too? Make sure I never do that shit again? Make sure I learn my lesson instead of forgiving me too easily?"

"Yes." You fluffed his hair. "They're already on their way. The conviction of a famous Pro Hero is gonna be the scandal of a century!"

Bakugou fixed his hair. "Well I'll still love ya, even while in jail."

You crossed your arms. "Only after you've served your 10-year sentence and repent through hours and hours of community service will I finally forgive you. Then you'll be free, we'll start all over, and we'll fall in love again."

"Deal," Bakugou said, kissing your forehead. "But I wanna skip to the end."

"No, that's the easy way out!"

"The hell? You're not actually gonna send me to jail for saying it was wrong to like Pepsi over Coca-Cola, are ya?"

"That's how the roleplay is going!"

"It ain't that serious! I said I was sorry babe! I'm sorry!"

You recalled what you originally fought about quite easily...

"Alright," Bakugou said. "I'm gonna head out for groceries. Any last minute changes to the shopping list?"

"Oh yes!" You rushed out to meet him in the entrance. "Could you get me some Pepsi? Pretty please?"

"What the fuck?" Bakugou looked at you like you grew two heads. "'Pepsi'? You want freaking 'Pepsi'?!"

You shrugged. "...Is that so bad? It'd be nice to have something besides Coca-Cola for once..."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed into slits. He shut the front door and approached you. "I didn't realize we had a freaking problem here. You're telling me I've been buying the wrong soda for you this entire time?!"

"Well... It's just not as good as Pepsi. It's not the same. I'm sorry... but I've always felt this way."

"Since fucking when?! When did things change?" Bakugou slapped a hand over his eyes. "What the hell did I miss?!"

Bakugou couldn't believe this. He thought he knew you better than anyone, just like how you knew him better than anyone. You two were the tightest couple ever. Bakugou had an engagement ring hidden in his dresser because he had already long since decided that what he wanted in life was you.

But now, he didn't feel like he knew you at all.

He'd still marry you though.

You remained silent. Bakugou couldn't stand it. He shook his head, then walked back to the front door, opening it. He stopped before he left, turning to you.

"Coca-Cola is better than Pepsi. That's just a fact."

Then he turned, and left. Instant regret washed over him, but he continued down to the front lobby. As Bakugou looked down upon his cursed shopping list, he couldn't in good conscious buy Coca-Cola anymore. Not when you hated it so much. He had to make things right.

He was getting Dr. Pepper instead.

"This is fucking disgusting, Katsuki," you said, halfway through your delicious can of Dr. Pepper at your dinner table.

"It was on sale, alright?!"

(I've read that a lot of people are unsatisfied with grovels in romance novels because they don't feel that the love interest apologizes well enough, so I wrote this just in case anybody needs one good quick grovel with none of the baggage attached. Btw, my favorite is Coke and it's not even close)

[irisintheafterglow]

has rockstar!gojo been done yet because i have some things to say

"whatcha drinking there?" a second weight sinks onto the couch and you eye the figure warily from the corner of your vision. you can't see his face well but you think it's a guy; he's got bright white hair, round-rimmed sunglasses, and a half-closed black button up.

"not sure; it was ordered for me. something sweet and dangerous, fruity enough that you can't taste the booze," you answer, crossing one leg over another and propping an elbow on the back of the couch. your body was buzzing with warmth in the stale air of the house, and you'd lost sight of your cousin who begged you to come to the party with her. it was a wealthy colleague's 20something-eth birthday and she wanted to pretend to be in a higher tax bracket for the night. though most of the other people at the party radiated predatory vibes, the other occupant of the couch didn't, keeping a respectful distance from you as you continued to try to make out his face.

"i know a little something about being sweet and dangerous," he drawls and you catch the corner of his mouth turn up in a smug grin. despite the cheesy line, he still keeps a polite space between you two. you scoff at the contrast between the flirty words and the chivalrous body language, taking another sip.

"oh, goodie, another perv ready to slip something into my drink and take me god knows where until i'm a tragedy on the local news," you deadpan and, to your surprise, he laughs. his laugh is boyish and light; it sounds like sunshine. your heart and mind are at odds with each other, one telling you that he might be a good one and the other cautioning against sweet-talking men at parties.

"have people actually tried that on you tonight?" when his laughter dies back, his voice drops its teasing lilt for something almost...concerned? you shrug, leaning your head in your hand. he mirrors your position and you unconsciously scoot a little closer to him. to hear him better, you reason.

"eh, you know how it is."

"say the word and i'll have them out of here before you can blink." it's your turn to laugh at his pretentious arrogance, but you lock eyes with him over the rims of his glasses. they're electrically bright and calculatingly lethal, like clear blue water during high tide.

"what, you gonna tell your security team to kick them out?" you joke, continuing to nurse the remaining alcohol in your hand. you don't expect him to hum and raise his eyebrows thoughtfully; something in your head whispers that he might not actually be kidding. he was an enigma compared to the others that approached you. he hadn't tried to touch you, get your number, or look down your shirt. odd, yes, and admittedly intriguing.

"i could do that, if you want me to. i don't like it when creeps bother pretty people." he flashes another sly grin and his hair falls to the side as he tilts his head. he was pretty cute, but you were still skeptical.

enough. get down to the nitty gritty. "what do you want?"

"hmm?" his sharp eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what do you want, if you're gonna call me pretty? you want my number, or my socials, or to take me home or something?" you stare at him expectantly and his eyes narrow ever so slightly like he was offended. maybe he wasn't used to people outwardly asking him if he was going to toy with them.

"truthfully, all i really want is to try your drink, and possibly get your name."

"oh," is all you're able to manage after any more biting words disappear from your vocabulary at his honesty. it was off-putting how nice he was, but you decide to humor him and hold out your glass. there's barely any liquid left in it, but he downs it in a blink.

"oh, shit. that's really good."

"right? i wish i got the order because i wanna be able to get that wherever."

"if you do get the order, send it my way too because that is delicious." from what you could tell, it was mostly vodka, with a little bit of strawberry or cherry punch on ice. there was another flavor you couldn't place, something fresh and earthy. maybe mint?

"i'll ask my cousin, then. hopefully she isn't too shit-faced to relay what she told the bartender." he laughs again, that breathy chuckle that made your heart skip a few beats. "how do you know the birthday girl?"

"friend of a friend of a friend."

"i see. this place not really your scene?"

"it is, sometimes. depends on the people present."

"what's your usual scene, then?"

"concerts, mostly." he runs a slender hand through his hair and you fight the urge to stare at its elegance. his voice was smooth and melodic and you leaned closer to him until it was the only thing you focused on. you're close enough to see his fingernails, painted alternating shades of red, blue, and purple. he looks at you like you're the best thing at the party and the rest of the noise fades into the background. "i like when music connects people. it's the closest thing we have to invisible strings tying everyone together, you know?" so he's the poetic type.

"mhmm. do you play any instruments?"

"i sing, sometimes. my band plays in this area."

before you can ask his name or give him yours, a tall man with his hair pulled back and a woman with a short bob steals the stranger away. he glances back at you apologetically, murmuring something about it being a pleasure to meet you. at the end of the conversation, you were left with an empty glass and an unshakable feeling of disappointment.

the subtle ache in your chest whenever you thought of him lasted several more days than you would have liked it to. you texted your friends about it numerous times for cathartic reasons but nothing worked. you wanted to figure out the mystery behind his identity and it was driving you out of your mind. the unrelenting feeling of restlessness was replaced by dread when your cousin dragged you to a concert in some underground venue, insisting standing as close to the stage as possible. you agreed on the condition that she order you another glass of the drink you had during the party.

despite the loud screams echoing through the chamber and the bodies knocking against your arms, the music wasn't terrible, especially when you had a few more drinks. as the night progressed, you found yourself constantly drawn to the lead singer. intuition said you'd met him before, even though it was impossible considering that he was one of the most popular musical artists on the planet. music officials called his innate talent and musicianship the most powerful of the time, earning him the nickname of "honored one." he had a reputation for being a rulebreaker, constantly voicing very blunt opinions regarding the older, more conservative artists of his genre. he was also rumored to be a player, always hopping around from lover to lover and never staying with one too long. it drove the fan accounts on twitter absolutely mad.

even if he was a heartbreaker, he was a professional nonetheless. he certainly knew how to put on a show, sweat dripping from his spotlight-shining hair and licking his lips enticingly while he sang sweet nothings to the audience of swooning fans. his crowd work was admirable and you found your face heating up when he crouched down in front of you between songs. his voice was raspy and overtly flirtatious, but it still bothered you that you'd heard it before the show and couldn't pinpoint where.

"hey there, pretty. you likin' the show?"

"mhmm, the 'drenched in sweat' look is really doing it for me."

"well, i used the last of my water to uh, baptize those ladies over there," he remarks, gesturing with the mic to a group of teenage girls that were shrieking at the top of their lungs. "mind if i get a sip of what you're having?"

"as long as you don't turn it into a super soaker."

inches away from you, you realize his eyes are a vibrant shade of blue and they crinkle at the corners from your joke. he laughs, boyishly happy and contagiously bubbly. you'd seen those eyes and heard that laugh weeks ago, on the night your cousin brought you to that party. in that moment, the realization collides with your body like a semitruck and your legs nearly give out. everything makes sense instantly: his voice, his hair, the way he called you "pretty."

you'd been flirting with gojo satoru.

and he was right in front of you, asking for your drink again in front of hundreds of people.

after a tense moment of stunned hesitation, you carefully hand him your glass and watch his face wash over in realization when he takes a sip. despite the screams from the crowd at the intimate interaction, all you could hear is his voice.

"oh, shit." he stares at you so intensely your heart does a backflip before slamming into your eardrums. the way he's looking at you tells you all that you need to know, all that you wanted to know ever since the night of the party. "that's...that's really good." he observes you for half a moment longer before he remembers what the hell he was doing. he stands to continue the show, but he flashes a knowing grin like he was telling you a secret.

"welcome to my usual scene, pretty."

your cousin is shocked, to say the least, when a security guard finds you after the show and requests your presence backstage.

how did this turn into 1.6k words i meant for this to be a drabble lol but anyways hope you enjoyed it

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[twstfanblog]

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 3

A/N: Third part ready and served! Yes I passed out writing this at least twice. So you can probably see it but at this point it's just gonna have to be. I have plans to do what I'm gonna call 'Winter Cleaning' since I wont be doing a Christmas fic this year. So lots of time to look back at all of my posted fics to fix typos and the such XD Word Count: 3.3K Pairings: Ruggie/Leona, Cater/Idia, Vil/Rook, Trey/Jade, Riddle/Floyd, Epel/Ace/Deuce/Jack Warnings: Swearing, Trans-headcanons, Drug mentions, Lying about pregnancy

Prev

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant. It was a possibility, Trein knew that. His students, if push came to shove, could act civilly to each other for extended periods of time. It still made his heart soften seeing them all around the table engaged in conversations. If he craned his head a little to the left he could see Lucius seated at the ‘Kids Table’. Demeaning? Possibly. But he knew his familiar wouldn't complain if he was receiving human food, not to mention the small tumbler of cream he had in place of the fruit punch the other children and Grim were given.

Looking to his right, Trein watched Cater take photo after photo of his plate. It was filled to the brim, a little tasteful piece from the most colorful dishes. But seeing him only pick at the food, Trein realized that was only his ‘Photo Plate’. The redhead was routinely picking off of Idia’s plate who was to Caters right. 

Thinking over the conversation he had with Yuu earlier that week, Trein placed his utensils down. Dabbing at his mouth to make sure no food was on his face, he cleared his throat, “Cater?”

The redhead in question snapped his head up, the flash of his camera flickering as it took a photo, “Yes? Sorry, is the flash bothering you, sir? I'm trying to see what lighting is better.”

"Nothing is the matter Cater, I wish to speak to you on other matters.”

“Oh?” Cater leaned his arm on the table, “Spill the tea.”

Trein linked his hands together, leveling Cater with a steady gaze, “You were given the a title as a task I believe?”

“Lol, yeah. Yuu says I'm ‘Gay Cousin’. Wont really tell me what I'm supposed to be doing though.”

“Oh, well this works out perfectly. Yuu alerted me as ‘Grandpa’, it was my task to ask you certain questions.”

“Oh, thank the Seven. Actual direction…”

Trein pulled his phone from his inner robe pocket along with his reading glasses. Putting his glasses on, he opened the notes app, “Now, I've heard you children say a few terms that I'm not aware of…would you tell me what a…’Gyatt’ is?”

Cater turned to Idia, grabbing his attention from his tablet, “Switch seats with me.”

“There's two T's.”

“Switch with me right the fuck now.”

Leona ate as much from his plate in big bites as possible. Ruggie was no better, the hyena basically shoveling food down his throat without even closing his mouth. Looking to his other side, he had to hold back the urge to smirk.

Malleus Draconia, the bane of his existence and the most aggravating thorn to ever find its way to his side.

When he had visited Ramshackle to offer more monetary support, Yuu had given him a second task. They had revealed to him that they told Malleus Thanksgiving was a holiday of compromise and togetherness, meaning you weren't allowed to fight on the day. They then told him to do everything in his power to piss Malleus off.

Taking a sip of his beer, Leona glanced at Malleus from the corner of his eyes, “So, gargoyles…”

It almost made him feel bad seeing how quickly Malleus perked up, green eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes? what did you wish to discuss about them?”

“What's your favored style? I can admit to having a soft spot for animal pieces, but the Savanna uses more geometric and plant designs.”

Malleus could have vibrated out of his seat and into the sun from how excited he became. He quickly launched into a lecture, noting the various styles and the positives of each one. Leona spoke up at points, giving actual opinions and thoughtful insights on the topic.

“I will say Kingscholar, I didn't expect you to have such knowledge on gargoyles! You must come to my club at a later date to speak on them farther.”

“I just might. Talking about grotesques is enjoyable-”

“Gargoyles.”

Leona raised an eyebrow, humming as he took another sip of his beer.

Malleus was still smiling, though his pupils had dilated into slits, “Gargoyles. We are speaking on gargoyles.’

Shrugging, Leona could barely hide his smirk from behind his glass, “Same thing.”

Leona watched in hidden elation as Malleus’s face slowly dropped the longer he talked. It was worth the days of learning gargoyle architecture just to give wrong definitions and terms, each new avenue of knowledge torturing Malleus in his urge to argue and correct him.

Soon Malleus was leaned on the table, head resting on his hands to give himself support while Leona kept talking.

Leona smiled, leaning closer to Malleus, “And you know what really gargles my goyles?”

Malleus gags hard and quick, managing to cover his mouth and steel himself.

“...Did you almost throw up?”

“I did. A little…”

The laugh Leona let out could only make Malleus more frustrated. 

Kalim had completely forgotten about the conversation topic Yuu recommended he try. He remembered as the plate of grilled and buttered corn made its second pass in front of him. Grabbing a cob, he looked across the table, “Hey, Azul. What's your opinion on The stalk market right now?”

Azul paused, closing the note app on his phone to give Kalim his full attention, “Kalim, have you been taking note of the stock market?”

“Yeah. I've only started checking on it the past week or so, but man! It's pretty wild, huh?”

Smiling, Azul moved to place another scoop of pasta salad onto his plate along with a third slice of turkey, “True. The stock market can be a bit of a wild west to the untrained. Do you have any predictions for the new year? My stepfather and I love to place bets on which company will have the worst spring quarter.”

"Hmmm. I don't know. I can't remember the companies by name still. But man, I read about one that lost half of their product due to outside issues. I'm just worried that prices will increase since they had such a bad production period. Other companies deal in their certain type of stalk, but this company was the biggest provider…”

“...” Azul placed his utensils down, giving Kalim his complete attention, “Kalim what sources are you getting this information from?” Azul doesn’t watch the stock market obsessively but he’d at least notice something so severe.

“Oh, I just Miraed ‘Stalk Market’ and started reading. You should really look up some stuff…”

“Jamil-”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his plate, grabbing a second helping of food, “Don’t involve me with this.”

Sighing, Azul turns back to Kalim, “There is no way, such a large shift happened without me noticing. Plus, if only one company is affected in production, then it wouldn’t raise prices if there are other competitors. What is this stock in?”

“Stalks.”

“Yes…Which stock? Do you remember if this company was in electronics? Services? What ddi this company do?”

“Stalks! Azul, do you know what the stalk market is?”

“Kalim, let’s not start that conversation. Tell me, in plain words, what kind of stock you were researching.”

“Corn stalks.”

“...”

Jamil had turned to them, looking at Kalim across the table, “Are you fucking serious?”

Cater had his head in his hands, Trein still beside him listing off old and newer slang that he wanted definitions of. The professor growing more and more disapproving with every new term he learned. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

“And…’boofing’, do you know what boofing is?”

WHO WAS BOOFING- “Pregnant. I’m pregnant.” Cater nodded to himself, using the trap card Yuu had given him to shift any conversation in his favor.

Trein raised a brow, “Is that what boofing is?”

Idia had locked in the second Cater said pregnant, looking at him in terrified confusion, “How are you pregnant?”

“...” Cater played with his hair, looking away from his boyfriend, “It’s not yours.”

Ortho quickly leaned over to narrow his eyes at Cater, Idia still stunned in silence, “Who’s the father?”

“...” Cater shifted his eyes across the table, silently watching as Trey contently ate his food.

Jade took notice, his own amused smile slowly falling from his face as he realized Cater was focused on Trey.

Feeling more and more eyes on him, Trey looked up mid-bite, “...What?”

Cater sighed, fully committing to his bit, “Trey, I’m pregnant.”

“...” Trey made the mistake of looking to his side, catching the unblinking stare of Jade’s barely contained emotions before looking back at Cater, “Why are you telling me?”

“It’s yours.”

Trey quickly reached his hand out, pinning Jade’s wrist to the table just as the mer tightened his grip on his knife, “Cater, we have…never slept together.”

Rook spoke up from Trein’s left, pouting at Cater, “Monsieur Magicam, how are you not sure it’s mine?”

Vil lost every ounce of amusement, glaring at Rook as though he was poisoning him with his eyes alone, “Why would it be yours?”

“Oh, mon amor. Love is a flighty and fickle predator, it hunts and snatches its prey with little to no warning.” Turning back to Cater, he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you sure it’s not mine?”

Cater could barely keep his face start, nodding as he watched Trey start struggling to hold Jade down from stabbing either of them, “I’m pretty sure. I’ve been craving violets and worrying about the teeth of children-”

Jade hissed under his breath, glaring at Trey and trying to grab his knife with his other hand, “How dare you impregnate someone else!?” 

“I didn’t!?”

Vil said nothing, glaring at Rook as the wine in his hand slowly started to bubble and turn black. His eye twitched as his boyfriend continued to lament and plea for Cater to tell him he was the father of his child.

Idia, breaking out of his spiral of despair and confusion, mumbling out, “Wait, you don’t even like vaginal sex. How’d you get pregnant?”

“...”

Trein spoke up, turning to Rook beside him, “Do you know what boofing is?”

Four glasses deep in the wine he brought, Crewel swirled his glass and picked at the ham on his plate. Eyes roaming the table for someone to target.

“Oi, Beakfish, hand me the red sludge.”

Riddle sighed, glaring at Floyd, “Don’t be rude to our professor and it’s cranberry sauce. Red sludge is very unappealing…Plus, it’s more of a burgundy color.”

“Eh? It’s a sludge though? It’s got chunks and everything.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, pouring more gravy onto his food, “It looks more like a jelly to me.”

While the three students were debating on what to call the condiment, Crewel grabbed the small platter but kept it close to himself, “I’ll pass it if you can tell me the boiling point of a frost potion, Floyd.”

“That’s a trick question. Frost potions don’t boil but they heat to temp.”

“Hmmm. Odd you know that but left it blank on your last test. Along with a number of other questions.”

Floyd groaned, rolling his eyes and moving to reach across the table and grab the platter in Crewel’s hand, “I didn’t wanna! Tests are so annoying, be happy I even wrote on it this time…”

Riddle glared at his boyfriend, “Honestly Floyd. You have to learn to put in more effort in your schoolwork. Your grades would be better for it.”

Crewel turned his eyes to Riddle, raising an eyebrow, “Like how you should be doing more cardio and strength training outside of Physical Education?”

“...”

“You can’t do five pull-ups, Riddle.”

Silver spoke around the spoonfuls of mashed potato in his mouth, “Riddle is able to lift a saddle during club.”

“By himself?”

“...” Silver looked back to his plate, poking at his side of vegetables, “The horses are much taller than him…”

Lilia laughed, his glass full of sangria having been drained for a third time already, “Oh come now Crewel! Children tend to try to avoid difficult things like schoolwork or exercise. We’re having a lovely meal, let’s drop the topic.”

“You have two essays you’ve yet to turn in.”

“...Um-”

“You’re aware that your Mistcord* status is public and shows you play Mortus Behind* for hours on end every night?”

“Well-”

Yuu spoke up, looking over as Deuce went back for a third helping of mac and cheese, “Slow down there, Deuce. Leave some for the rest of us.”

The spade soldier blushed, stopping from getting a second scoop before passing the dish over to Ace, “Sorry. It’s just really good, how many cheeses did you use in this?”

“Four. I call it Mac n Coma for a reason.”

“...You call it what?”

Epel hummed, biting into a deviled egg topped with a piece of ham, “Yur deviled eggs are really good, Deuce! Ah’ve never had them with chili powder before.”

Deuce smiled, “Thanks! My mom always made them with chili powder instead of cayenne. Cater confused me so much when I was making them…”

Taking another two eggs, Epel started to load his plate up again, making sure to refill his glass of apple juice, “This was a great idea. Ah’ve been meaning to get y'all together. Plus, Ah get ta really chow down without Vil bothering me about manners.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, watching Epel pile his plate high, “Eating is important, but you’re kind of…eating a lot. You know we can take leftovers back with us right?”

Ace looked from the side of his eyes, watching Ruggie eat without so much as stopping to breathe, “I mean, if there’s anything left…”

Epel had patted a hand on his stomach, “Well, you know. Eatin’ for two and all.”

Jack hacked and choked, an aborted spit take going down his windpipe. Sebek had dropped his fork onto his plate, looking at Epel with wide and terrified eyes, while Deuce seemed to buffer.

Ace sputtered, his half-chewed food falling out of his mouth, “You’re what!?”

“Oh, it ain’ yours.”

“Thank the Seven…”

Deuce held his head in his hands, staring at the table, “My mom is gonna kill me…”

“It ain’ yurs neither, Deuce. It’s Sebek or Jack’s but Ah’m not sure which…”

Jack still looked horrified, hitting his chest to clear his airway, “E-either way. I’ll step up to be there for you and the baby…”

“...” Sebek glares at Jack, “Why do you assume I wouldn’t be stepping up as the child’s father?”

“Why do you assume you’re the father?”

Slowly, Jack and Sebek’s tension escalated into an argument, the two larger freshmen moving to stand from their chairs or just leap across the table at each other. Both loudly proclaiming they’d be a proper provider for Epel and the child, unknowingly insinuating the other would not be.

While the two of them bickered back and forth, Yuu slipped Epel a twenty note bill under the table.

Sam finished off his second plate, looking around the the table. His task wasn't truly something he had to do, it was more of a get out of jail card for when the table was too rowdy for him. With two separate conversations at each end of the table dealing with possible pregnancies, a debate on if the production of corn counted as the stalk/stock market, and Draconia slowly coming to terms with the idea of manslaughter Sam decided he needed a little air.

He elbowed Crewel, stopping the wine drunk man from verbally dragging his students through the trenches, “I'm gonna go for a walk, you wanna come with?”

“To what? Have sex?”

“...” Sam shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, I was going to just…walk but we'll see how we feel afterwards?”

“...Yeah, ok.”

Floyd perks up, “Ah! Wait, shrimpy told me what your job was. I wanna come too!”

Lilia smiled, finally free from Crewel's judgemental glare, “Oh, a walk? May we join you? I even have my own…walk enhancers.”

Sam shrugged again, already standing from his seat, “Might as well.”

Their small group was barely noticed leaving, only Riddle and Silver taking account. Riddle raised an eyebrow, watching them walk out of the dining room without a goodbye.

“Where do you suppose they're going?”

Silver took the time to grab the cranberry sauce from Crewel's table space, “A walk. They should be back in about ten or fifteen minutes…”

“Why in the Seven would they go for a mid-meal walk? Once they were done eating I could understand, but Floyd's barely touched his second plate…”

“...” Silver looked over to Riddle, brows creased in confusion, “Riddle, They're going to do drugs. That's what taking a ‘walk’ means.”

The gasp Riddle gave was small but clearly horrified.

Dinner had ended, while a handful returned to their dorms (Idia of course, leaving the second Cater asked if he was ready to go, and Vil who finished his plate and dragged Rook out with him) most had decided to stick around Ramshackle.

The only reason he had stayed was the fact he did not have his phone for some reason. He tried to retrace his steps, checking around the now empty dinner table he found nothing but the nearly empty serving platters all covered again. The stray fairy watching him from little spaces, waiting for him to leave so they could pick at the food left improperly covered.

He checked the kitchen, finding only Crewel and Trein standing at the Island both nursing glasses of wine. Pouting, seated at the smaller dining table across from Vargas was Crowley. The headmaster begrudgingly eating from a plate, no doubt cursing Yuu under his breath for not actually inviting him to their massive friends and family dinner.

“Apologies for interrupting, professors. But have any of you seen my phone? White case with a rose popstand on the back?”

While most of the teachers shook their heads, Varga hummed before snapping his fingers, “The lounge! I think one of the kids had it.”

“Oh no…”

Walking into the lounge, Riddle had to hold in a snicker. Yuu had told him their family recipe for macaroni and cheese was known as ‘Mac n Coma’ and he could see why. Leona was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly face down in the cushions. Wedged between the back of the couch and Leona’s side was Ruggie. The hyena silent but sleeping just as hard with an arm draped over the back of Leona’s head.

The children were asleep too, each of them piled on top of Leona and Ruggie in a mass of limbs. Jack’s twin siblings squishing Cheka between them, the grey tipped twin sleepily gnawing on the lion cub’s tail. Deuce was also in the lounge, unfortunately unable to reach a couch or chair as he slept on the floor using a throw pillow as a blanket.

Looking around, he couldn’t see his phone anywhere. Groaning under his breath, he walked out to the back and to the patio. He quickly walked by Trey and Jade, the third-year quietly trying to calm his boyfriend who kept glaring at him. Walking around the garden, he finally saw his familiar white case.

The downside was that it was in Yuu’s hands, Floyd squished tight beside her in the pillow filled hammock swing. The two were whispering to themselves, giggling and pointing at the screen. 

He stood in front of them, hands on his hips and already tapping his foot in annoyance, “I would like my phone back, if you two delinquients wouldn’t mind.”

Floyd looked up, his eyes still rimmed in red from his ‘walk’ earlier, “In a minute, Goldfishie~. We gotta do something real fast.”

“What could you two possibly need my phone for?”

Yuu giggled, tapping on the phone and moving to place it against their ear, “We’re callin' your mom and seeing who can make her say a slur fastest.” “GIVE ME MY PHONE THIS INSTANT!”

*Twist version of Discord

*Twist version of Left 4 Dead

[viviennevermillion]

to rise from the wreckage

✧ notes: day 4 of my "autumn remedies" event! if you liked this fic, consider reblogging and commenting! 💕 this was a lot more introspection rather than interaction but i like how it turned out!

✧ synopsis: dan heng loves a reader who has trauma from bullying. 1.3k words

✧ now playing: praying - kesha

✧ warnings: past trauma

It was late at night and you had woken up from another nightmare about your past; thankfully, this time, without stirring your sleeping boyfriend awake. Dan Heng was snuggled up to your chest and despite the terrors of the past haunting you, you couldn't help but smile at his soft expression as he instinctively pulled you closer when you shifted your position. You ran a hand through his hair as if to remind him that you didn't intend on going anywhere, even though you doubted that he would actually notice. He just seemed to let out a satisfied sigh upon feeling your touch.

Dan Heng was the one thing keeping you grounded during nights like this. Without him, you knew it would be much harder to quiet down the voices in your head; the sneers and laughter that seemed so threatening and yet so distant from you that you wondered whether these things even happened to you. Yet, your dreams were proof of it. They'd often replay scenes that seemed all too familiar; albeit under different circumstances. You'd close your eyes in some nights and you'd be back in the dark; chained to the whims of someone else, a punching bag for the hatred in their heart; longing for a taste of the winds that would carry you to a faraway future.

You'd fight back desperately each time. Every time you found yourself back where you started, whether it had been back then or in the dreams you saw, you were slowly but steadily fighting your way to the surface; to a place you belonged and a future you knew you had long since earned. Progress was slow, but it was there. You knew Dan Heng was struggling with a similar fate. Your circumstances had been different; yet he was also plagued by dreams he didn't connect to, memories that had been hidden from him for his own good. Like you, the past was trying to drag him back to the depth of helplessness and a fate that sometimes felt like he couldn't escape it. And like you, he was fighting up his way back to the surface and although he was struggling, things looked so effortless when you watched him. You wondered whether he thought the same about you.

Seeing Dan Heng fight for a new life, a future which he could call his own and a freedom that he could never take for granted, had kindled the flame in your heart even more. It made you long for that place in the sun; one that seemed so filled with that light and warmth that Dan Heng gave you, and once you had a taste of it you knew you'd be fighting for it for however long it might take or die trying. Both of you longed for a future in which there was no longer such a divide between what people saw and who you knew you were with every fiber of your being. Most of the fight was internal; your bravery only applauded by those who could see your journey for what it truly was, like Dan Heng did.

Few understood the loneliness that followed a childhood that had been scarred by false expectations, abuse and punishment for reasons you didn't understand. Few understood the struggle to step into the light and show what had been in your heart all along nor the bravery it took to look in the mirror every morning and telling yourself that your time would come despite. That people would see one day and the climb would get easier. That you'd catch up to the people around you who seemed so much further ahead. But Dan Heng did. You could feel that day closer than ever, almost in reach, in those evenings you spent with him by the water under the setting sun with a peaceful smile on your face. Making peace with what happened was easier on some days than others. But when it felt like you couldn't go on anymore, Dan Heng was there to pull you along until you had regained your strength. And you were ready to do the same.

You both carried a dream in your heart like a slumbering flame that was ready to ignite into an inferno and as you grew closer, they merged and became stronger, festering in the light of your love. You knew that after all that time your soul was lost in infinite space, you had someone you could count on to take your hand and walk those scary next steps with you. A net to catch you, should you ever fall.

Sometimes the things that took the most bravery for you were things that seemed so simple to others. Approaching new friends, opening up, asserting your will... But you wouldn't be a member of the Astral Express Crew if there wasn't something inside you ready to blaze a trail without looking back. To dare, despite everything, over and over again. Your past and those who hurt you had thrown rocks onto your path than seemed like they'd burn the soles of your feet if you dared walk across them but Dan Heng took your hand and encouraged you to try anyway. To push through and find, to your surprise, that a lot of them didn't hurt as much as you thought they would.

He didn't need a lot of words to convey that he was celebrating your achievements, whether they were big or small.

Imbibitor Lunae. Dan Heng had told you it meant "drinker of the moon". But to you, the one you loved had always been the sun for you, casting a shadow on you that challenged you to step out of it and walk the rest of the way by his side.

There was power to be found once you moved past the pain. A transformation much like his own, that would enable you to make things happen that felt like a miracle to you now. Dan Heng gave you a glimpse at a future version of yourself that watched over you like an older sibling, conscious of every new step they took in order to make you proud. One whose voice you could almost hear when you felt safe within Dan Heng's embrace, as if they were telling you that things were going to be okay. Both of you carried two dragons within your heart; one of the past who was steadily swallowed by the darkness of bygone times and the weight of new memories and one of the future looking back at you as though you were a child taking their very first steps. You were hardly at peace with either of them, but you knew deep down they both were telling you one thing. "Go. And don't look back."

You were pulled from your thoughts as Dan Heng eventually woke up beside you. He opened his eyes and you were reminded of all the times those eyes were the first thing you saw when you woke up in the morning. They carried so much love in them; as did the memories you made together that seemed to slowly drive away the horrors of the past. The days you had spent fooling around with the rest of your friends from the Astral Express. The afternoon you had spent exploring the Xianzhou Luofu with Dan Heng, forgetting all about Imbibitor Lunae and just talking about the history and food of Dan Heng's world of origin. The kisses you had exchanged and the gifts you had given each other. You had expected Dan Heng to ask you whether everything was alright when he woke up, as he had always noticed when you had another nightmare about the past. Instead, while you were looking into his eyes, he simply requested to know what made you smile. You hadn't even noticed your expression had changed from one of fear to one of peace just now. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, smiling against his soft skin.

"I'm just reminiscing."

[gilverrwrites]

Not What It Looks Like

Black Mask/Reader, 1.7K words

AN: This is an updated version of a fic, I originally wrote and published about 9ish years ago. Please enjoy, and if you've read them both please let me know which you prefer, or if you noticed any differences, I'm just curious.

Roman finds you in a pretty precarious position with one of his men. Obviously he won't stand for this, you'll both need to be taught very different lessons. Rating: 18+

CWs: Non-con touching, general crudeness, violence, yelling, swearing, slut shaming, spanking. Reader is GN but has long hair.

Please remember: to rest when you need to.

You heard it before you felt it, a familiar THWACK sound as a gloved hand meets your behind, making you yelp at both the sound and the sting. Instantly, you spun around, furrowing your brows at the faceless thug waving his guilty hand.

“A donkey mask, how appropriate.” You remarked, before spinning back around, arms folded. As much as you were dying to give the primitive creep a mouthful, you had far more important things to be getting on with. Most immediately, Roman was expecting you on the top floor for a very important business meeting in less than five minutes.

“Hung like a one too! Why’d ya think I chose this mask?” His meaty hand wrapping around your wrist, preventing you from going anywhere. He spun you back to face him and you catch a whiff of his cheap plastic mask. Instinctively, you try to pull away again, with no luck. His grip on your arm is like a vice. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Is that so?” You smile, feigning as much interest as you can muster. Time to change tactics. Slowly, you placed your hand on his chest, inching it down over his stomach, ever to slowly, until your hand hovers inches away from the growing bulge in his pants, you were ready to draw back and give it a straight punch when the sound of a deliberate cough catches your attention.

Heart sinking as you spun your head around, your eyes locking onto Black Mask himself. He leans in the doorway, radiating authority, control. The way the light hit his mask might fool someone into thinking he’s smiling, but you could only imagine the terrifying look of rage that most likely hid behind the layer of dark wood.

“I- It’s not what it looks like.” Was all you managed to squeak out before he strode over, not even stopping to look at you. Hook, line, and sinker… Roman slammed his fist into the man’s face, the donkey mask caved in on itself before the thug plummeted to the floor. His grip around your wrist never wavering, forcing you to topple down with him. As soon as he let go you quickly rolled away, using the closest wall as leverage to aid you in getting back on your feet.

You know better than to interfere, so you watch on, fascinated, as Black Mask delivers kick after kick to the man on the ground. Screaming obscenities to make a sailor blush, until his throat is red and veiny. There is no point in trying anything until he’s done letting of that steam, he’ll come back down to earth eventually, and you’ll face the music then.

When the time comes, your mule friend lays on the ground, silent and unmoving. Black Mask turns slowly to face you, giving you his now undivided attention. You could imagine a raised brow lurking beneath the Mask as he contemplates his next step. You remain silent as he grabs your upper arm, dragging you over to his private elevator.

Hastily, you gesture to the receptionist, silently telling her to check that the mule is still breathing.

With no grace at all, you’re forced into the elevator, the moment its metal doors close, Roman has you pressed to the wall. His breath on your neck, his hands patting and stroking at your skin.

“Are you hurt?” He questioned quickly; voice still laced with anger. “I didn’t mean to take you down too. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m okay, don’t worry.” You reassured him, reaching to place a hand on his shoulder only for him to shrug it off.

“Good.” He grunts between clenched teeth, plating a kiss on your shoulder before drawing away, turning his back to you. He paces around the small space before his fist makes contact with the solid metal wall. Your lips part, but you’re silenced by Roman wagging a finger in your face. “You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ explainin’ to do.”

Before you can say another word, the elevator dings, alerting that you’ve reach the top floor, Roman’s office. Two suited men stand from their seats before Roman’s desk as the door opens up. Presumably they’re the men you had business plans with. Both smile, reaching their hands for you to shake but Roman reached them first.

“Forgive me fellas, but we’re going to have to cut this meeting short.” He insists, walking straight past them, one arm pointed at his door.

“But Mr Sionis,” One of them spoke up, “We only just got here.”

“If you’d like to talk to Stephanie outside, Mr Sionis’ secretary, she’ll be more than happy to reschedule for you.” You smile apologetically, walking them to the door. “We hope to see you again soon.”

Before the door had even closed Roman’s hand are on you, pulling you towards the head of his office. You’re already slightly sore butt meets the cold glass of Roman’s desk with a thud, and you rearrange yourself until you’re seated more comfortably. Your hands wrapping around your chest as you wait for Roman to start yelling. It wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself at the brunt of his anger… and hopefully it won’t be the last.  

You watched him taking a deep breath, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he faced you, he almost looks like he’s trying calm himself, you know better.

“What the fuck? Where do I even start?” He begins, and you instinctively shrink away from his voice. “Tell me you ain’t fucking cheating on me doll. Tell me now. Tell me you’re not spending your spare time fucking that ingrate.”

“Of course I’m not cheating on you.” You respond quickly, fighting the urge to reach out for him, to beg for his comfort. He’ll touch you when he’s ready, anything sooner will result in a harsher punishment. “I would never do that, you’re all I could ever need.”

“Then why are you downstairs actin like a slut, rubbin’ up against my men, makin’ me look like a fool, while I’m up here workin’ my ass off?”

“That’s not what happened!” You exclaim, hoping to sound assertive without raising your voice too much. “He started coming onto me and I was about to push him away w-”

“That’s not what it looked like from my angle.” He snaps back at you, arms folding over his broad chest as he slowly begins to close the distance between you.

“I know but I swear, I was half a second away from punching him the dick.” You attempted to reassure. Trying not to let his closeness distract you from your point. Even as his hands met the glass either side of you. “I’d die before I did something so s-”

He cuts you off, hard lips push against yours with so much force it feels like hitting your face on a brick wall. His hands quickly begin tugging at the roots of your hair. He gives your scalp a sharp pull, and predictably you open your mouth to gasp, allowing him to shove his hot tongue into your mouth, licking up whatever he can reach. You close your lips around his tongue and suck, just how he likes it.

The kiss the permission you’ve been waiting for to touch him. Cautiously, your hands travel his chest, fingers fiddling with the lapels of his jacket. In return, his fingers run the length of your back, nails raking at your skin even through the thin fabric of your shirt, until finally resting on your already aching ass. Using your cheeks as leverage, he pulls you into a standing position, forcing your chest to chest and allowing him complete access to your body.

You knew exactly what was coming. His hand draws back before slapping straight back down on your asscheeks, with aim that’s far more precise and force that’s twice as hard as the man in the donkey mask.

Even with Roman’s tongue firmly in your mouth and acting as a muffler, you can’t help the loud yelp that escapes your mouth. Romans chest shakes against yours as he chuckles at your reaction, winding his hand back he spanks you again, and again, and again.

“Mine. This is mine.” He barks, not bothering to with draw from you long enough to make his words fully discernible. Unable to think straight, let alone speak, you respond by nodding, affirming his statement. You are his.

All to soon a strong hand crawls up your back once more, fingers thread into your hair again, jerking you back and forcing you to detach yourself from Roman’s tongue with a whine. Amused eyes burn into yours, soaking in your already heavy lids and parted lips, before dipping down.

You frown, but your objections are quickly silenced when you feel Roman licking his way up your throat. Hands grip either side of your shirt and pull it apart, allowing him more access. You make a mental note to pick the played buttons up later.

Impatiently he yanked your shirt down your arms, not bothering to completely remove it before latching onto your shoulder, nipping and biting at the skin. The hard lips of his mask leaving deeper marks than his teeth could manage. The tenderness of each indent soothed by the warm mix of your blood and his spit.

“Mine.” He repeats, the cool wood of his face brushed over your skin, making you shiver. “Who do you belong to? Who touches you like this? Who?”

“You.” You pant without hesitation. “You do. Yours, Roman.”

“That’s right…” He grunts, letting go of your hair and gently pushing you back against his desk. “Me.”

You watch with bated breath as he removes his jacket, reaching out to assist in undoing his tie, planting chaste kisses to his throat as you work.

“It really didn’t mean anything.” Now is not the time to reaffirm, to distract, but you can’t help it. You want your innocence abundantly clear; you would never betray him. “He had a hold of me, I was about to make him regret it.”

He chuckles again, brushing a stray hair away from your face. “I believe you.”

Smiling, relieved, you place his tie on the desk behind you before starting on the buttons of his shirt, placing kisses to the sections of his chest that aren’t concealed by his vest.

“But you still let him put his hands on you.” He remarks, a playfulness in his voice that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. His hands wrap firmly on each of your arms, turning you around and bending you over his desk. “I’m gonna have to punish you for that, how else will you learn?”

Request Info || Prompts || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

[pe0ple3ater]

also in your inbox to BEG for bloodhounds content. i think they would wrestlefuck for dominance and it would be brutal and hot and they would tear each other apart trying to dom one another, taking advantage of each other’s guards dropping and using it as openings to fuck each other and dominate one another.

alternatively. roier domming the fuck out of etoiles and taming the french beast, being absolutely downright cruel to him and laughing as he wrings orgasms out of etoiles. especially spider hybrid roier pinning etoiles… orgh. yeah.

- ✒️

YES you understand me. I am #1 bloodhounds fan ever. This ask made me so excited that I got dizzy. I love you requesting dom Roier because you will never catch me writing top Etoiles, I'm sorry that man is not a top in my head. He's the most eager to please sub ever. This in particular is a major w for me.

Naturally, they fall into bed together the same way they fall into anything together, competitively and aggressively.

Etoiles laughs and reaches down to help Roier up off the ground. Both of them have been restless, and the natural solution was obviously to beat the shit out of each other until they're too exhausted to move or think. Roier takes his hand and lets Etoiles pull him up and steady him.

"You are shit, man; I feel bad for you," Etoiles teases, playful, happy. Fighting with Roier gets his heart pounding. He's a good fighter. He fights like Etoiles, aggressive. He throws all of that hybrid strength into every blow. He makes Etoiles work for every win. It's good.

“No no no pendejo, shut the fuck up. You're so toxic," Roier complains, brushing dirt and grass off himself. Etoiles can't wipe the grin off his face. His hands are still resting on Roier's shoulders while they both catch their breath.

"Me? No, my bro, I am chill. Zero enemies." Etoiles' words trail on a giddy laugh; he pushes Roier lightly and stretches his arms above his head. He can feel how Roier's eyes trail down his body, but he says nothing about it.

"Fuck you, man," Roier says and punches his shoulder hard; it makes Etoiles grin wider.

"If you fuck like you fight, I would fall asleep in the middle, my bro," he's quick to reply, eyes cutting to Roier and watching his reaction. Roier stiffens, and all four eyes narrow in on Etoiles, head tilting. Etoiles pulls his eyes away and opens his inventory, checking his armor and weapons.

Etoiles' head is pulled back, hard, by a hand tangled in the strands. An involuntary groan rips itself from his throat at the feeling, the pain sending lighting down his spine and pooling heat in his stomach. Roier is behind him, one hand fisted in his hand and the other going to rest on Etoile's waist and squeezing hard.

"You think, culo? You want to find out?" Roier mumbles, voice low and close to Etoile's ear. Etoiles' body relaxes, and his grin returns full force, so it's like that, huh? He tilts his head back further into Roier's hand and exposes his neck.

"I think, yes," Etoiles laughs, voice already a bit breathy. Roier releases him and takes a step back. Etoiles shakes his head and turns to face Roier just in time to dodge a punch aimed at his face. Etoiles slips into a defensive position quickly. The promise of a good fight mixes with the lingering arousal from Roier's hand in his hair, and Etoiles' heart is pounding in his chest.

With renewed energy, Roier is fighting to win now, fast and aggressive. The way Etoiles likes him. He focuses mainly on defending, with no desire to really win this. He lands a few good punches and manages to block Roier most of the time, but Roier is determined, and Etoile's head isn't in the fight.

Roier gets him to the ground and Etoiles' brain kicks back into reality, the two of them grapple on the ground. Etoiles manages to get Roier off him and lands a hard kick to his chest, knocking him on his ass. Etoiles lunges towards him like an animal, but Roier is ready for him and gets a hard punch to the side of Etoiles' face. He yelps and rolls, spitting the blood welling up in his mouth to the side. Roier is over him, panting and intimidating.

Etoiles is hard. His vision is a little blurry from the punch. He pants and scrambles to get his bearings; Roier is quicker. He grabs Etoiles by the hair and forces his head against the ground, hard. Etoiles' head slams against the ground, and he groans, reaching up to scratch at Roier's face to get him to let go. Roier grabs his wrists in his other hand and forces them to the ground as well.

“Still bored, pendejo?” Roier growls, tone making his dick twitch in his pants. Roier laughs at him and releases his head, holding Etoile's wrists in one hand and bearing his full weight down to keep him.

Etoiles stops fighting and just stares at Roier.

He grins, forces a yawn, and stretches out languidly like a cat sunbathing. Roier's eyes flash, and he smashes their lips together, biting Etoile's lip hard enough to bleed and forcing his tongue down his throat. Etoiles moans into the kiss, and Roier grinds down hard against him. Roier kisses him like he's trying to prove something; he tastes like blood, and the smell of sweat is overwhelming between the two of them. All of these things only make Etoiles harder.

"I'm going to make you cry, Elotes," Roier mumbles, pressing his face against Etoile's neck and sinking his fangs into the skin. Etoile's breath catches, and his back arches a bit, eyes fluttering closed at the mix of pleasure-pain.

Etoiles laughs, rests his head back, and keeps his eyes closed. Focusing on Roier's hands slipping under his shirt, the way his nails dig into his skin. Etoiles' hips twitch up against Roier.

"Do it," Etoiles mumbles, barely resisting the urge to beg.

[thewitcheslibrary]

Grounding 101

Grounding and centering are two of the most important things a witch should know, especially because they often work with energy. The purpose of grounding and centering is to stabilise your energy, draw energy from the Earth, and produce a positive state of being.

Your energy reflects your emotions. It's your "vibe", where your mind has strayed, when you get goosebumps, frightened sweats, or happy tears.

I am sure you can feel your vitality if you concentrate hard enough. Unground energy might feel "fluttery": a racing heart, butterflies in the stomach, and stray thoughts. Noticing your energy is the first step towards grounding, and the more you practise it, the better you will get at tuning in.

Your energy is the first line of protection for how you move through the world: do you recall the proverb "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me"? Words have the potential to injure or heal, depending on your energy level. Have you ever felt that someone's words punched you in the gut? They basically pummelling your energies (particularly your solar plexus). Sometimes the punch continues to strike even after the person who delivered it has left. Anyone who follows the news knows this for certain! But it's not only about the "bad" stuff; when we're very excited about something, it may be tough to stay in the moment as we wait.

Even if you don't receive one of those gut-punches, you might sometimes lose your energy. Have you ever felt like you arrived home but your thoughts was still in the grocery store? Grounding your energy in your area can help you set clear limits for who gets your energy and when. It might make you feel comfortable and supported rather than unbound. Grounding may help those who don't have a secure physical spot to call home, as well as anybody dealing through trauma and facing triggers, discover a safe place within themselves while they manage the issue.

How to ground yourself-

Take a deep, deep inhalation through your nostrils and hold for a second. Exhale through your mouth until all of your breath is out. Repeat as many times as necessary to feel present.

Position both feet or hands firmly on the ground and concentrate on the four corners of your palms or soles in succession. Focus on your base to feel as stable as possible.

Take a bath or shower and cleanse yourself from the top down. Focus on sending unnecessary or unbalanced energy down with the water.

Take a few deep breaths while picturing a ball of light at the base of your spine. Use your mental skills to imagine it spinning and spinning, catching any loose energy (like spinning cotton candy into a bundle), and then pushing it down into the earth. For a more in-depth ritual, repeat this process for each of your energy centres, beginning at the top and working your way down.

To anchor yourself in your environment, sprinkle salt on the floor and spend a few seconds visualising it shining with rainbow light, connecting with your own light and bringing down any unwanted energy. Then sweep up the salt and discard it.

Make any activity that needs your focus into a grounding ritual: making coffee, combing your hair, writing, gardening, cooking, or anything else that speaks to your spirit and keeps you in the present now.

Light a candle and focus your attention on the flame. Firegazing has been psychologically proved to help focus your mind and relax your energies. If you're using a scented candle, take deep breathes and enjoy the aroma and warmth.

Hold a grounding crystal or use a grounding essence during any of these tasks to summon extra help. Darker-colored stones tend to be the most grounding, although even rock from outside works (and may even work best).

[laufyko]

— this song is for you.

// fluff, guitarist reader, modern au. 0.8k words.

kaeya hums softly as he and his guitarist lover sit together on their shared bed—with you on his lap and your guitar on your lap, smiling at your concentrated expression.

squinted eyes, sticked out tongue that rested on your top left lip, and the gentle, adorable hum when you play the right notes. archons, he couldn’t help to smile even wider.

and he’d whisper you a small praise, kissing the nape of your neck gently whenever you get the right notes, his grasp tightening around your waist as well. he was being sooo sweet—it didn’t only make your heart melt, he made your whole body melt.

“what song is this, by the way?” he asks, his warm breath and the soft pair of his lips tickling your nape, making you giggle quietly at the sensation. “pasilyo, by sunkissed lola. have you ever heard of it?”

“not really.” your lover shook his head, his lips still pressed against your nape, though he eventually moved his head to see the sheet music you have on the side of your lap. you’d make sure the head of your guitar didn’t hit his face too, which he appreciates a lot since he accidentally did this a lot.

“it has such a beautiful melody… what’s the song about?”

“marriage, i guess?”

“marriage, huh. i guess that’s why it sounds pretty lulling.” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder. “i wonder if this song could be played one day at our wedding…” he smiles at the thought, but quickly regained his composure.

“is it difficult?” he continues to ask, shifting his body and pulling you closer by the waist to get an even more comfortable position. his light blue eyes lingering on the music sheet as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“not really…” you began, pressing your guitar closer to your chest, testing the notes again. “i mean, it’s kinda hard, but i think i’m doing fine.” you explain proudly, turning your head back to facing him—only to give a small, quick peck on his cheeks, grinning softly.

the navy-blue haired man was surprised by your sudden antics. his eyes widened slightly, but he chuckled and brushed it off eventually. “really? that’s great then.”

despite not having a wide knowledge about music, he always felt so proud whenever you could play a song without much trouble. his mind constantly telling him that you’re the most talented and professional guitarist ever.

“can i hear the full version once you’re done?”

“sure, darlin’,” you muse, sticking out your tongue again as you continue to strum your guitar while looking at the sheet music, trying to get a suitable “nice sounding” note.

kaeya continues to rest his chin on your shoulder, pressing your body closer to him, watching intently at how your fingers move and play the guitar string. it might seem simple to you, but archons, he was so in love with your fingers. the way they moved is just mesmerizing, he swore he could just watch your fingers playing the guitar for hours.

after you finished, you let out a satisfied hum and another proud grin. his awestruck gaze now landed on you—clearly admiring your developed guitar skill.

“i think that’s all for tonight, i’ll ask xinyan about the chorus part next morning and—”

sensing a sudden quiet kaeya, you turn your head quickly to meet his pretty face, only to find his foolish awestruck gaze solely focused on you. as your eyes met his gaze, his eyes softened even more, as if he’s staring at the most precious thing that exists only once in the world.

you can’t help yourself to laugh at seeing this side of him, which looked so dumb and cute. “... what’s with that gaze?”

he laughs along with you, his hand making its way to hold your hand and squeezing it gently, before stealing a kiss on your lips. “you’re so gorgeous when you play the guitar, and— archons, your playstyle is really cool…!”

you felt your cheeks become hot and red at the kiss and the praise, punching kaeya’s lap playfully with your fist right after he praised you. “thank you,” you reply, smiling sheepishly. your fingertips brushing against his harsh palms.

but suddenly, you felt your guitar taken by him and placed right next to the bed, his muscular arms then started to lift you up, pinning you against the soft mattress. his quick yet unpredictable action surely caught you off-guard.

“but enough about your guitar practice, don’t forget about our deal earlier.” he smirks dumbly, nuzzling his head on your neck as he pressed his body against you hardly, making it almost hard to breathe properly.

such a sneaky bastard, isn’t he? but it would be a big ass lie if you say you didn’t like it.

with a defeated sigh, you wrap your arms around kaeya’s body, letting him clinging to you for the rest of the night.

[the-fifth-rascal]

Not your typical happily ever after

Chapter 1

In the desert kingdom of King Deshret, they say that it is impossible to ever dream. People simply weren’t allowed to have wills of their own. Because their very own king was a power-hungry, blood-thirsty tyrant who made sure that every citizen in his kingdom that was under his thumb FEARED him. Well… almost every citizen.

A peculiar figure, masked by the shadows of the night for his own advantage, held a can of purple spray paint in his hand and leapt across the roofs of multiple buildings gracefully without a sound as he sprinted across the kingdom.

He didn’t stop until he got to the heart of their kingdom, where a not-so-flattering portrait of the king was hung up.

Purely for the purpose of a narcissistic reminder for the citizens of their place. This strange figure landed softly in front of the portrait, a twisted grin stretched across his face as he uncovered his hood, allowing his white hair to flow with the breeze and his red snake-like eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight. The boy shook the spray can a few times before spraying the most vulgar things that came to his mind.

Unfortunately for him, he was caught sight of by a few of the king's guards on their usual daily patrol. Of any unruly law-breaking citizens they needed to slay for treason.

Out of the corner of one's eye, they immediately noticed the bright purple streaks on their majesty’s picture, and then the culprit with his head covered before anybody could recognize him.

"Vandal!" the royal guard bellowed, pointing towards the perpetrator. All they saw was a shit-eating grin before he escaped into the night.

"Guard 0718 to all forces, we've got the infamous vandal on the loose! I repeat, the infamous vandal is on the loose!"

The vandal felt giddy as a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead when the adrenaline pumped in his veins. He had always loved a good chase after all.

He dashed into the alleyways when the purple lining of his hoodie sizzled to light, becoming seemingly electric as his eyes glowed similarly. With the guards hot on his tail, he somersaulted between the space in the 2 narrow walls and managed to clamber on the ceiling before the guards could even process what was going on.

But a few of them were already patrolling the rooftops, looking for the criminal. He had no choice but to deal with them directly. He pulled out a few strange-looking objects from his pocket and threw them. Upon impact, the items exploded with a spectacle of purple and gold glitters. "Shit," the guy muttered and cursed under his breath, "must’ve accidentally packed the glitter bombs."

He used the dazzling disasters (alliteration!) to use this chance to escape. But it didn’t deter them for long.

Multiple guards threw polearms at him, which he managed to avoid easily as he landed on the ground flawlessly.

He even fought a guard hand-to-hand, or hand-to-leg and hand and electric shocks in this case, it being obvious the criminal didn’t intend to play fair. He gripped either their necks or their arms and administered electric shocks from his glowing gloves and hands before punching them square in the nose or kicking them where it really hurt.

Finally, when he was sure that all of them were out of his way and absolutely no one was tailing him, he made his way to a more secluded corner of the kingdom and let himself breathe again.

He was satisfied he had his fun for the night and did the king a favour by painting over that ugly-ass portrait. So what was his course of action now? Suddenly, the angry exclamations of the royal guards seemed to be getting way closer. The vandal prepared himself for a fight, unbeknownst to him that a metal tube was positioned over his head.

Before he could even realize what was happening, the vacuum of the tube had sucked him in. He sped through the smooth, cold metal tube with a gust of wind (totally not screaming the entire time, no way) before landing in a heap.

When he got up, he recognized the room he was now in; flasks of strange alchemy materials and humongous shelves, stacked with books of all kinds and a giant wooden desk with papers scattered all over it.

When he felt a firm tap on his shoulder, he turned back to see a gray-haired boy with his arms crossed and beautiful bright turquoise eyes gazed into his and his lips curled slightly in an annoyed frown.

"And just what the HELL do you think you’re doing, Cyno?"

[radical-sky]

just a little bored, i'm feeling crummy ilsa/ethan one-shot. post dead reckoning part 2. nothing explicit, but very much so implied. no beta, just something i punched out quickly on my computer.

UPDATE: edited and posted on ao3 here

Ethan isn't sure what woke him up, but he's not complaining. Ilsa is warm and soft, tucked against him, face peaceful and relaxed in sleep. A strand of hair pulled from the braid she never took out has fallen across her face, breaking the line of her jaw, the soft curve of her cheek. He pulls an arm from where they're wrapped around her and tucks the hair behind her ear. She dyed it dark auburn, nearly the same shade as when they first met, before they settled at this safe house almost three weeks ago. His hand lingers on her face, fingers brushing over her cheek before moving to her neck, settling on her pulse point. He focuses on the steady beat under his fingers, the easy thrum of her heart pumping blood through her veins. He counts the beats, each one a visceral reminder that Ilsa is alive, here with him. The year of his life when he thought she was dead nothing more than bad memories now. He forgave her the moment she revealed herself to him, pulling him from the proverbial cliff and saving his life in more ways than one. They’d beaten The Entity, defeated the machine together, and killed Gabriel along with it. 

It’s been six months and Ethan is the most peaceful he’s ever felt. He’d been weary after Venice, exhausted in a way that settled deep in his bones and didn’t lift no matter how much he slept - or tried to. The grief of Ilsa’s death had weighed on him, haunted him in a way he never could’ve imagined. After the Entity, all he wanted was rest. Peace. Slow mornings, easy days, evenings wrapped up with Ilsa. A future without the fate of the world on his shoulders.

The safehouse they’re in now is remote, completely off grid. A cabin Ilsa set up early in her MI6 career, deep in Northern Sweden, nestled amongst steep mountains and well hidden in a dense forest. There’s no electricity except for a small diesel generator that powers the water pump and some lights if they need them. The single room is heated by a wood burning stove. It’s cozy, intimate, and domestic in a way he hasn’t experienced in almost 20 years. This is what freedom feels like. 

Ilsa is warm against him, bare skin pressed against his where they’re still wrapped together, touching everywhere they can. Even in sleep they both want the reminder that the other is there. The blankets trap their heat and keep them comfortable, but he can feel the chill of the air in the room on his face. They’d gotten distracted the previous evening and forgotten to fill the stove before losing themselves in each other. Ethan tightens his grip around Ilsa, pulling her impossibly closer and tucking his face into space between her shoulder and neck, kissing, tasting, always imprinting every bit of her to memory. 

As carefully as he can, Ethan extracts himself from her, slipping out of bed silently. He collects clothes as he makes his way across the cabin; soft sweatpants, wool socks, and an even softer flannel before he shrugs into his jacket, shoves his feet into leather boots and steps outside to grab wood and kindling for the stove. The air outside the cabin is cold enough to knock the breath from his lungs, and he quickly fills the canvas log carrier, the moon bright in the sky, forest around him muted and muffled under more snow. He slips inside, stepping out of his boots before making his way to the stove. It doesn’t take him long to fill the small stove, the little blaze warming the interior and quickly brightening the room with warm and soft light. He’s stacking the rest of the wood into the small rack next to the stove when he feels arms wrap around him from behind. In the past, he’d be raising into a defensive position, taking ahold of his attacker. His body doesn’t even tense, long relaxed, defenses shut down knowing Ilsa is the only one near him. Ethan smiles, looking up at her, and pressing back into her as she steps up and meets his body with hers. 

“I distracted you last night and the stove went out, didn’t it?” She asks, voice soft as she grins down at him. 

He brushes the bits of wood from his hands and brings them up to clasp her arms. She also picked up clothing as she made her way across the cabin and he rubs his hands across the sleeves of his own sweater she’s wearing before he pushes it up her arm. Gently, he kisses the inside of her wrist, finding her pulse yet again before he trails kisses up to her palm. 

“I’ll let you distract me anytime.” He stands and turns as he says it, slow as his knees and bad leg complain. She’s there as he rises, expression soft, happy. Ilsa takes his face in her hands, fingers already cold against his skin. He meets her halfway. The kiss is slow, gentle. Passion behind it but no urgency. They have all the time in the world. Ethan’s hand tangles in her hair, further messes up the braid, then other pulls her close, needing her body against his. 

“Come back to bed, darling, warm me up.” She’s barely pulled away from him, and her lips brush his still as she speaks. 

Ethan nods against her, hands still roaming, tucking under the borrowed sweater, fitting themselves around her waist. She works at the jacket he never took off, and he lets go of her only long enough to shrug out of it. It’s several minutes before they make it back the bed, lost and distracted in each other. 

They tuck together again, lips flushed but bodies still freezing, arms wrapped around the other, holding. Her face is tucked into his chest, and Ethan can feel her gentle smile as they settle against one another. Idly, he traces patterns on her back, working his way around her chest, and resting on the sweater where he knows the scar on her left shoulder is. 

“Ethan…” she begins, knowing where his head his going, a conversation they’ve already had many times. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died Ilsa. I can’t imagine this without you. I don’t know if I would’ve walked away from the Sevastopol if you hadn’t been there.” 

Ilsa takes his hand, and moves it down, pressing it over her heart. 

“It’s in the past, Ethan. It’s not worth thinking about. I’m right here, I’ll always be here.”

Ethan leans down, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“This is all I want Ilsa. Life with you, whatever that means. I never want to wake up without you.”

She shifts against him, this isn’t the way this conversation usually goes. Normally he starts talking about the mission, blaming himself. Saying he should’ve gotten to the bridge faster, planned differently.

“Ethan, you know that’s what I want too, life together. Just us.” Ilsa pulls pushes her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling into the still too-long strands. 

“I love you Ethan.”

He pulls her closer to him. How did he get this? How did he almost lose this?

“I love you too Ilsa, more than you’ll ever know.” 

They hardly need to move to press their lips together, slowly opening up to one another, touch tender and revenant as they undress each other. Ethan is smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges but happy. Ilsa grins back.

God he loves her. He loves this. He is hers, she is his. He never could have dreamed of a future so complete, filled with so much joy. He doesn’t hurry, hands slow as he explores her body, they have their whole future together, and he intends to enjoy it.

[xbalayage]

Last Night

Silvio/Reader Angst WC: 1,107 A/N: From the perspective that Silvio didn't change from the initial way we were introduced to him as but still fell for the charm he held anyways. It's tame while he's sober but during nights of drinking when things are supposed to be fun, he's drank way too much and it comes out with a force. Inspired by a song I listened too - pretty sure anyone could potentially guess what song it is.

[ - - . - - - . - - - . - - ]

Frivolous parties were what this kingdom was known for; constant music, extravagant sights, the liveliness was unparalleled to any other kingdom in comparison. But when they swam in untold fortunes and had a flourishing economy of frequent trade, why wouldn't they? Last night was no different - they'd spend it together under the glittering lights of a balcony, indulging in the finest wines and liqueur but food went untouched as she stared blankly off into the distance, no longer even listening to the words coming from his mouth. He was feeling it a bit more than her and that was saying something for once.

Incredibly insensitive and rude comments escaped past in his drunken haze all while wrapped around his smug smile, not even realizing the damage he'd be creating. She told him time and time again, yet she kept her rage to herself, focusing on the dazzling glow of lights with her hand cupping to support her chin. Radiant eyes refused to look his way. Now wasn't the time to stem out in that kind of talk, but she couldn't help the underlying resentment that whispered past her lips. "--I wish you were somebody I never met."

He heard it, of course he did. But, surely, she didn't mean that. Just like tonight's affairs, it was just the alcohol talking. She loved him. It was just one mistake he'd apologize for and wouldn't do again.

Right?

Just earlier that night when the mood was right, they both had their cheeks flushed with the passion they shared as she gripped the sea of sheets to their bed, crying out his name that he drank up like the sweetest song he's ever heard. Settled in what felt like miles of robes, she sat in his lap, fingers curved into his hair as they gaze lovingly into each others eyes. No one would know the wiser that they'd ever fight. Splitting a drink shared between kiss bruised lips, promising futures they'd hope to keep and sharing secrets of life that'd been left unspoken.

How did it come to this?

Their regular banter now turned into a verbal sword fight of who's right or wrong, positioning their sharpened words into the most vulnerable spots to hurt. He yells over her, she yells over him - neither of them were listening. The verbal warfare leaves a lasting scar forever etched into her mind, while he simply forgets like it never happened; like the wine wasn't laced with poison and shifted their tongues into pitchforks of hate. She couldn't bare another night like tonight.

Tonight was no different from other nights - she just refused to indulge in a fruitless endeavor after fighting. He's completely hammered and not listening to reason, or paying attention to those nasty comments he keeps spewing. Rio was right, and she should've listened sooner but that damn heart of hers always tried to see it through. 'Just let him go. He'll grow a pair and see how much of an asshole he's been once you finally leave him' his words rang fresh in her mind, trying to blink away the tears by the thought of the truth.

Silence beat in her ears for a few moments before her gaze turned back to him, curious to know why everything all at once seemed to stop. Like time had frozen in the moment to give her a reprieve to run. Her eyes met a passed out figure, snoring as he laid lazily in his chair. The urge to punch him square in the jaw but kiss his stupid face at the same time was too strong - she had to shake her head and stand, heading inside to pack her most treasured things.

Finally, she had enough. This would be the last night she would endure this. But she couldn't leave, not like this. Scrambling to find a pen and paper, her letter stated words intertwined with both love and sorrow; when their love was great, it was great - but when it was bad, it was like inhaling water with a ball and chain strapped around the ankle, pulling her down to the depths of her death. She undone the collar around her neck that she both hated and adored for multiple reasons, looking over once more at his slumped body on the balcony before resting the item with the note on the bed covers.

And almost as if he'd been listening in, Rio was at the door once she opened it, staring deep into her tear stained eyes that ran past her cheeks. His eyes gazed down at her luggage in hand before reaching her face again. No words were spoken, just a simple nob and Rio knew. He knew it was finally time. Her eyes turned once more for the last time at the man she loved the most, her heart ached - but she had to put a mental foot down; she couldn't change a man that didn't want to change. Or didn't know how to, even with her gentle guidance.

With her resolve strong, she slammed the door as she left, her resentment staying to linger in the absent room. He was too out of it, a simple action like that wouldn't have awoken him. She left, to never return.

Morning broke as he woke up, his body sore and mind swirling with no recollection of the previous night. He found himself on the floor, chair sprawled off to the side, empty wine bottle littered the floor. He lifted his head to find the food untouched on the table. His first thought was her, but he couldn't find her anywhere even when calling her name. As he got up slowly, he scratched at his head and groaned. Finally able to stand on his feet, he noticed a note and her collar placed on the bedding.

He read the note with a heavy heart; had he gone too far last night? What had he done? What had he said for her to have to write a note, leave behind the present he got her and vacate all her belongings as well, to leave in the middle of the night? For her to finally leave him. He gritted his teeth and held the note close to his chest, his other hand thumbing the beautiful collar that glittered in the sunlight. His eyebrows furrowed as hurt ridden eyes stare at the rising sun longingly.

Something told him that this wasn't the end of them, he held onto the hope that she'd forgive him. That she would come back to his side. This couldn't be. There's no way... that this was their last night.

taglist; @nightghoul381, @yvelk, @celiciaa, @drachonia, @alvieeru, @aquagirl1978, @here-for-gilbert, @widowbunny, @exhausted-courtroom-mom, @randonauticrap, @maries-gallery, @violettduchess, @strawberry-scum

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: You Take Me Higher Than Heaven

Fandom: Nikita

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: Light R (much is heavily implied)

Spoilers: For 3 x 13, canon divergent.

Summary: Nikita goes to speak to Ari, which leads to quiet, intimate moments between the pair.

Author's Note: Just *how* many times can I have these two fall into each other's arms nonsensically? Many.

On AO3

You Take Me Higher Than Heaven

            “I heard you had a day.”

            Ari Tasarov shifted into a sitting position on the bunk provided in the room where he was staying so he could face Nikita Mears properly. “I heard that yours was no better.”

            The beautiful operative scoffed, unfolding her arms from the crossed position they had been in, and moved fully into his temporary quarters. “At least the collective goal was reached, right? Your son is safe and with his guardian.”

            “True. However, I will never see Stefan again,” there was a detectable trace of melancholy in his tone that he couldn’t fully mask. 

            It was evident by the look of pity he received that his companion had caught it. 

            Though it was late enough that there were no guards, she shut the door so they could speak candidly. “It’s tough, I know, but you made the right decision.”

            He sighed and rubbed over the back of his neck. “That’s exactly what makes it difficult. Losing someone you love is never easy, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

            She tilted her head, studying him and noticing that the only alteration to his appearance was that he had removed his shoes. “You know: if you’re uncomfortable and need something else to wear, you just have to ask.”

            “You should have stopped by yesterday and offered. I was wandering around in my underwear while I washed the rest of this.” He laughed wryly.

            Despite her best efforts to refrain, the mental image of a mostly naked Ari wormed his way into Nikita’s thoughts.

            She flushed considerably. “I’m just saying…if you need anything.”

            “I know. You’re being hospitable, which is more than I deserve, honestly,” he managed a small, yet grateful smile.

            Her heart jumped. “It’s not that! I want you to feel at home here. After all – it’s where you’re going to be staying for the foreseeable future.”

            He blinked, confused. “I thought I was heading to prison?”

            Nikita went to sit beside him. “Ryan and I came to a joint decision that you would be far more use to us here at Division. Your history and expertise are just too great of a benefit to go without, and the truth is: we’re struggling. As you know, we’re no longer funded by the government. We need your help so we’re willing to make a deal.”

            It was silent as Ari processed the information. She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but there was also visible relief on his striking, angular features. “What kind of deal are we talking about?”

            “You become part of Division, and, more specifically, my partner.”

            He whirled towards her, genuinely surprised. “Your partner? What about Michael?”

            She bristled slightly at the mention of her ex. “Michael refuses to go back out in the field, even with his new hand,” she confessed. “And while Alex and Owen are great backup, they often get caught up in their own issues, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

            “Where Mr. Elliot is concerned, most definitely,” he rolled his eyes, and then winced as the motion hurt thanks to the visible bruising around his left. 

            Her brow furrowed in sympathy. “He made it worse, didn’t he?”

            “Well, while he might have had good reason to punch me, I would have appreciated it if he hadn’t aimed for the same spot you did.”

            Gingerly, she touched his cheek, and then trailed her fingers ever-so-lightly along the wounded area. “I shouldn’t have gone so hard on you in the first place. I’m sorry.”

            He hissed, which she interpreted as discomfort despite how cautious she was being. Instantly, she withdrew her hand, only for his to curl around it and pause the motion. “It’s all right. I forgave that almost directly after it happened.”

            “At least one of us has,” she murmured. 

            He cupped her chin, tilting her head back just enough so they could look into each other’s eyes. “I should think it’s evident by now that I regard you quite highly, Nikita.” He then pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, a gentle affirmation of the emotion he did not need to express verbally.

            With the message clearly conveyed, Nikita threw caution to the wind – grasping Ari’s shirt collar to tug him forward and their lips could meet. 

            While it wasn’t the ideal circumstance for a kiss, the passion that quickly erupted was undeniable. 

            In mere seconds, she was enveloped completely in his deceptively strong arms, his mouth insistent upon hers. 

            Instinctively, she coiled her legs around his waist, keeping their bodies close as the embrace escalated, and then nibbled playfully at his lower lip while he twisted and bore her beneath him.

            Her grip tightened on the fabric covering his chest, a wanton moan escaping when his mouth strayed to trace slowly over her jawline.

            Clever fingers managed to sneak past the hem of her sweater, stroking a nonsensical pattern along her abdomen before skimming upwards. 

            She arched into his touch when he thumbed over the lace covering her breast, a delicious heat pooling right at the base of her stomach at the contact. Determined to return the favor, she reached for the buttons to his shirt. 

            One by one, they popped loose, until the garment hung open and revealed a thin tank top that she immediately began to push up his stomach. 

            Ari sat back for a moment, yanking his arms free from the button-down before he rapidly whisked the undershirt over his head. 

            Nikita happily took in the sight of his uncovered, beautifully muscled torso, raking her nails along his chest and then curling her fingers around his belt.

             The unravelling thread of his resolve snapped in a heartbeat. The former Gogol agent lunged, yanking his companion’s sweater away before tackling her bra, which was flung aside recklessly so they could work at getting each other naked as quickly as possible. 

            Skin to skin, they toppled back on the bed, limbs entangling and exchanging heated kisses while they explored each other.

            “It just occurred to me,” he rumbled, the resonant timbre of his voice making her quiver with want. “That we might be giving Division a bit of a show here if there are cameras.” He bit provocatively at her earlobe.

            She slid her leg along his. “Actually, Birkoff deactivated them for this level. We’re safe. Unless you want to be seen.”

            His response was a low, very alluring chuckle, “Fun as that could be in the right circumstances,” he settled comfortably in her arms, gazing down at her tenderly. “Some things are meant to shared only with one other person.”

            Nikita’s heart cartwheeled. There was such warmth and sincerity reflected in the ocean of clear blue that she was losing herself in. 

            She reached out to sweep an errant strand of dark hair away from where it fell along his forehead. “You’re right. Some things should remain private.”

            “Well, that’s a first,” Ari remarked.

            “What is?”

            “Agreeing with me. I think I like it,” he grinned.

            Her pulse hummed thanks to how attractive an image he made. “What? No. Surely I’ve agreed with you on something before this.”

            He tapped at his chin with a thoughtful expression for a second before shaking his head, the smile returning full force. “Not that I can recall.”

            She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Oh, you’re enjoying this way too much.”

            “Who wouldn’t?” He stretched deliberately, the velvet texture of his skin against her own causing goosebumps to erupt and a startled sound to escape her throat. “I have you exactly where I want you, unable to escape,” he leaned in close enough so that their lips were centimeters apart. “You’re completely and irrevocably mine.”

            “That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” she murmured. 

            “Yes,” he lovingly caressed her cheek, emotion glittering in his eyes. “If I’m honest, I’ve wanted you since the moment we met. But that’s beside the point. See, my heart became yours not long after.”

            She placed her hand on his chest at the admission, reveling in the steady heartbeat beneath her palm before she dipped her head to press her lips there.

            “I like that – that you’re mine as much as I’m yours,” her words were slightly muffled against his skin, but judging by the quiet yet delighted laughter that served as his reply, she knew that he agreed with the sentiment. 

            “I also think that this discussion has lasted long enough, don’t you?” he hissed sharply when her mouth began to coast down.

            “Definitely,” she mumbled, continuing her trek, amused when she discovered that he was ticklish around the navel. “What’s this? A weak spot?”

            “Oh, don’t you dare,” his warning arrived too late, and the next few minutes were spent with her taking full advantage of this priceless information. 

            “Just so you know, I am actively planning revenge and it will come when you least expect it.” Ari knew that the ultimatum would sound more effective if he wasn’t struggling to regain his breath after the onslaught of what had started as a tickle fight, then escalated into something else. 

            “An interesting choice of words.” For her part, Nikita was content to stay right where she was: curled halfway on top of him and stroking idle patterns through the hair that dusted his chest. 

            “…I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”  

            She smirked and kissed his neck. “Sorry.”

            “No, you’re not.” 

            “No, I’m not,” the smirk morphed into a grin. “I could go on like this for hours.”

            He groaned, tilting his head back in the process which granted her better access to the column of his throat. “Have some mercy, please.”

            “Aww, did I wear you out already?” she pulled back.

            “I just need a breather.” He wrapped his arms around her securely, basking in the intimacy of their entwined forms. “Have you always been this insatiable?”

            “No, you’re merely benefiting from our long-standing UST,” she joked.

            He looked suitably perplexed. “Our what?”

            “It means unresolved sexual tension,” she giggled, bright and airy. “Okay, that one I’m actually sorry about. I’ve spent way too much time with Birkoff for my own good.”

            “That man should come with a dictionary in order to understand him,” he remarked dryly, ducking a kiss to her forehead.

            “He should. He also has a point, though.” She nuzzled him affectionately. “This chemistry we’ve been building since we met was bound to explode eventually. Frankly, the fantasies all pale in comparison.”

            “You’ve fantasized about me?”

            She peered over at him, showing no hint of embarrassment. “Are you saying you haven’t fantasized about me?”

            “Oh, I’ve had my share,” despite their nudity, he appeared slightly flustered. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around being the one desired here. It hasn’t happened often.”

            She abruptly sat up, stunned. “I’m sorry, but how?! With your eyes and your voice?! Not to mention,” she gestured wildly, “the body I was definitely not expecting to be hidden beneath your clothes. If others can’t see how gorgeous and amazing and perfect –

            He cut her off with a kiss that was equal parts passion and gratitude, his hands moving up to frame her face tenderly, their forms entangling further while he reclined her back onto the mattress.

            Nikita reluctantly parted for air first. “What was that for?”

            Ari smiled. “For being remarkable,” he leaned in again, brushing his mouth lightly over hers before whispering: “And for letting me catch my breath right before you stole it back.”

            “Fair’s fair, since you stole mine first,” she muttered, thoughts losing cohesion when he pushed her hair away from her shoulder so he could nip at sensitive flesh. She was unable to stop a mewl from emerging and firmly gripped at his back. “Please tell me we’re done resting.”

            His face loomed into her vision. “That revenge I mentioned a little while ago? I’m just getting started.”

            Ari managed to prove two very specific things to Nikita over the course of their love making. One – he was thorough. Not a visible patch of skin had gone without proper worship, and he had nearly drawn her to the brink through simple touch alone multiple times. The other was that his stamina was downright impressive. 

            Once the haze of lust managed to die down long enough for the pair to rest, they cuddled together: a hopeless tangle of skin and white sheets. 

            Nikita sighed, completely sated and languid in her lover’s embrace. “You know, I think you might be the actual insatiable one here, not me.”

            “I confess, I got a little carried away,” Ari rubbed soothing circles along her back, his lips grazing her temple. 

            “There’s carried away and there’s whatever we just did, if it has a name,” she stretched, cat-like, in his arms and dropped several kisses to his chest in gratitude. 

            After a few more minutes, he twisted onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow and gazing at her with concern. “You sure you’re all right? It wasn’t too intense?”

            She shook her head. “No. Though I admit that it might be some time before I regain feeling in my legs.”

            “Nikita…”

            “I’m joking. Mostly.” Her expression turned serious, and she ran her thumb gingerly along his still-healing eye. “When the infirmary opens back up, I’m getting you something to soothe this.”

            He slung an arm across her waist, drawing them close together. “Is that your way of implying that you’ll sleep here with me?”

            “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she curled up against him. 

            “Even if Birkoff or Alex comes barging in here and we’re caught?”

            “They’ll just have to get used to it. You’re my partner now,” she yawned, exhaustion beginning to take hold.

            “Rest, my love,” he tipped her chin. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

            She merely smiled and kissed him, confident in the knowledge that he would keep to that promise. 

The End

[littlerabbittarot]

What We Can Learn From ‘The Devil’ — Tarot

As one of the most popularly misunderstood tarot card in pop-culture and in the general population, ‘The Devil’ card showcases a frightening image of a demonic monster (the Devil, of course, or Baphomet) looming over chained, nude and exposed human figures, with a dark black background and unsettling symbols. It’s easy to see how this card has the reputation it has.

But is this card only what we see on the surface? Or is there more going on than what we see at first glance?

Well, as you can probably assume, yes, ‘The Devil’ isn’t all that it seems. Let’s take a dive into my perspective on the card, and give it more of the love it deserves.

To start, ‘The Devil’, even among tarot readers, is more often than not, viewed as a negative card. When it pops up in a spread, oh boy is there trouble afoot.

Our vices, addictions, shame, and unhealthy habits are all out on display here. For as simple as eating that extra spoonful of ice cream when you’re working on your diet, succumbing to feverish shopping trips and buying more clothes than you can ever wear — or more complex and dark, spiraling from a lack of control over your addictions, feeling trapped and manipulated by those around you, or blinded by obsession.

Quite the powerful card, with equally powerful imagery, seeing this can feel intimidating at best, and like a punch to the gut at worst. No one likes their dark sides exposed, and ‘The Devil’ loves to bring it into the light for all to see. Just as the figures in the card are nude, so to do we feel exposed and vulnerable when this card appears.

But ‘The Devil’ is also a trickster, making you think you’re bound to their whim with no way out — but it’s an illusion. The figures in the RWS deck’s traditional imagery have an important detail, the chains around their necks are loose. At any time, they are free to release themselves from temptation, to escape back to the light, but they choose not to. It’s their choice to stay, their decision to live with their vices.

Of course, that’s a very simple way to describe it. Not every vice is so easily escapable, but I think it’s still important to acknowledge that it is possible. Perhaps the chains are loose, but heavy. Maybe they’ll take more than just one’s own strength to remove them. But don’t feel as if they can never be removed.

But…should you always want to remove them? Perhaps let’s now discuss the positives of what ‘The Devil’ brings. After all this, you may be surprised to hear me describe good things about ‘The Devil’, but I hope I can convince you that this card is more than looking at one’s shadow or attempting to have hope. I, instead, want you to be able to embrace your shadow, put hope aside, live in the moment, and find joy and pleasure with what ‘The Devil’ has to teach us. ;)

We all have our guilty pleasures. That movie you love to hate. Having a random fling or doing something new in the bedroom. (This card can be quite sexual! It’s all about humans in our raw form.) There are times and places where it can be enjoyable — if not exhilarating — to dip your toes into the taboo. Playing hard to get or living life on the edge. Booking a flight to a country on a whim where you had never been, or never even considered going to, all because you can. The thrill of adventure. Staying up late and watching a horror movie to get your heart racing.

‘The Devil’ has a lot to teach us about our shadow side. There are hardships and pain there, but also pleasure too. And always plenty to learn and grow from. It tells us to face failure without fear, to find a healthy balance, accept ourselves for who we are, feel liberated, and set boundaries in our life. While it is important to not always stay down in the dark alley of the Underworld, it’s also okay to enjoy yourself while you’re there.

While at face value, this card can seem dark and unnerving, but it actually has a lot to offer. I hope you give it more of a chance the next time it makes an appearance in a reading. ;)

How do you feel about ‘The Devil’? What do you think you can learn from it?

If you enjoyed this article, you might enjoy my discussion of ‘The Tower’, and what we can learn from the destruction it brings it its wake.

— 

Thank you for reading! I hope to continue to blog about tarot, mental health, and similar topics. Feel free to follow, or support me on Ko-Fi.

-LR🐇

[theataerravoltartist]

Within an instant he found himself in a dark room. As Knuckles eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he remembered his father speaking of an extremely secretive place in the heart of Angel Island. Surely this had to be it. To his left was a hallway. From what he could tell this was the only path forward. Someone needed to know what he recently discovered.

Down the poorly lit hall someone stood stoically. Knuckles took a long pause. A pair of beady red eyes continued to stare unblinkingly at him; quite unapologetically at that. The other finally took a step into the light. He casually swirled a piping hot beverage as if this were a normal Tuesday for him. Knuckles wanted to shout, to assert some form of dominance, but the air had quickly been sucked from his lungs. This terrifying blend of a humble elder and a formidable foe made him hesitate to even speak. The man finally sighed,"I am sorry the circumstances of our first meeting is so... grim. I had planned for something with more grandeur, but fate has a way of doing its thing."

  He stuffed his left hand into a pocket on his sweater,"since you unfortunately know the truth, I will give you two options for moving forward."

   "What makes you think I would ever agree to something on your terms?" Knuckles crossed his arms.

    "Oh, dear child," he sardonically laughed,"because you have no choice. See," he glanced down at his drink in a contemplative manner,"I orchestrated your arrival. I made sure you would be here at this time while no one would be available to save you."

  Knuckles' chest tightened. His instincts were sounding off every alarm in his mind. He kept his arms crossed in a vain hope that he appeared confident in his skills.

    "Your first, and most preferable option, is that we take this somewhere else and converse as not adversaries, but two men of equal footing. Your second option," he paused, deliberately eyeing Knuckles fists,"which would occur if you start throwing punches, is that your father's life would be at quite the risk."

  Knuckles cocked his head, releasing his arms from their original position,"He... he's alive?!"

    "Well, that is up to you," a wry grin grew across his face.

  Knuckles stared at him. Why trust this impostor? This sociopath? But then again, why would he use an empty threat?

    "Fine," Knuckles shook his head slightly, disappointed that he would even entertain this monster.  

   "Good," Mortori warmly smiled,"follow me. We have so much to discuss."

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Notes:

Knuckles is 14, about to be 15 in this timeline.

This is a overhaul of KTE #20.

Mortori's Tobor disguise is my own redesign from years ago with some minor updates -

Context:

Knuckles has discovered Tobor and took him to E.S.T. for safekeeping since he cannot find where his mother lives. He traveled through the snowstorm to the edge of the island in hopes of finding help.

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I've had this idea bounding around in my head of how things could(should) have gone down for quite some time. The impostor sub-plot is such a great idea, especially with Mortori Rex being an absolute gaslighting menace.

Mock covers are a fun exercise. 10/10; will do again!