#I have very mixed feelings about the place I come from but drawing this made me realize how unique it is at least :'>

[bare1ythere]

YAHOO!

I'm a little late to the trend, I'm blaming the start of Uni for that. Alberta/Calgary!Miku- Summer and Winter variants!

[whimsyeo]

perfect for you

જ⁀➴ jeong yunho x fem!reader (ft. seonghwa)

༄ yunho prepares the perfect date to finally pop the question to you. absolutely nothing goes as planned.

wc; 2.7k

cw; failed marriage proposal, established relationship, absolute pure fluff, minor injury (reader), slight mention of blood, yunho’s trying his best okay</3

notes; on a writing kick here lately, and i had to write something sweet to make up for my last angsty yunho fic! small spoiler: he cries this time haha :,)

🎧 sunlight by hozier & 18 by one direction

Yunho had been planning this night for weeks. With the help of resident hopeless romantic, his close friend Seonghwa, he was certain the preparations couldn't of gone any better.

A romantic dinner followed by a walk in the park to a decided upon clearing, where you two could watch the stars together. Then, while you were distracted by the constellations, he would get down on one knee and ask you the question that's been weighing on his mind and even heavier on his heart for as long as he's known you.

Truly, he's known all along. Blurted it out, too, before he could stop himself on what was just your very second date together. That he could imagine himself marrying you. He had turned red in the face from the blunder while you only giggled. He was relieved his declaration hadn't bothered you at all, and spurred on by the sound of your unabashed joy, he felt all the more assured of his feelings.

Seonghwa had suggested not doing anything too out of the ordinary from your regular date nights to not draw any suspicion. Yunho agreed with this, as difficult as it was not to pounce on you from sheer excitement after finally seeing you in the dress he had bought you just for this evening. You both occasionally coordinated the other for your respective planned date nights, so you'd had no qualms about wearing what he had picked out for you. You looked a dream in the dark red fabric, the color suiting you perfectly and the fit even better than Yunho could've imagined (women's sizing was a complete mystery to him, and so he felt once again grateful to have had Seonghwa's help).

He finds himself staring at the expanse of your bare shoulders when you call him on it, his gaze snapping to meet your's with what can only be a blinding smile. He can't hide his enthusiasm in the slightest, but given your past comparisons of him to that of a hyperactive puppy on just any regular day, he's hopeful that his demeanor comes as no surprise to you. The star gazing would be new for you both, but otherwise, you didn't seem the slightest bit privy to his actual plans. He feels positive that the night is already going so well.

Until it doesn't.

"Sunday?" Yunho asked, brows pulled together in confusion. "Are you sure? I'm positive I made the reservation for Saturday."

Yunho pats down his pants, the weight of the ring in his front pocket suddenly feeling so much heavier, and sighs when he can't find the familiar imprint of his phone. Of course, he'd left it in his car.

"I'm sorry, sir," the hostess says, tapping on the screen in front of her. "Your reservation was made for the 21st."

"Today's the 20th?" He mumbles to himself. He had prepared for everything so thoroughly, how could he have gotten the actual date wrong?

"It happens, love," you reassure from beside him. He glances over as you rub his arm, an unwavering smile still present on your face. "There's an Italian place across the street. I'm pretty sure they're reservation optional."

Yunho relaxes at your quick thinking. He had felt himself begin to spiral, already believing the whole night was ruined because he somehow messed up this one little thing. He realizes he shouldn't let a small mix up change the entire course of the night, so he nods, giving you an appreciative grin as he agrees.

The place you mentioned is, in fact, directly across from your usual date spot. Yunho never paid it much mind, as you two only ever came to this side of town for the same restaurant every time. But standing outside of it now, the building is just as inviting. Warm lighting shining through the iron windows and then the door when he holds it open for you. The blend of aromas from where you enter is pleasant, and he almost feels silly for nearly panicking over something so honestly small. It was a shame the same restaurant he'd officially asked you out in wouldn't be apart of your proposal story now, but while you appreciated those kinds of sentimental attachments as much as he did, he knew better than to think it would actually change anything for you.

(Yunho had asked you before about what your dream proposal might look like. He had imagined something like a ferris wheel ride, or watching the fireworks together on a warm summer night. A customary dish from your dream travel destination or maybe a home cooked picnic.

"You could propose to me with a paper ring and I'd still say yes," you told him so easily. As if your words didn't make his heart nearly leap entirely out of his chest and run home to you, it's true holder, from the deep affection that floods him.

The topic of marriage wasn't uncharted territories for you both. You talked about it before as something you would equally want whenever the timing is right. Yunho only ever held out for your sake, really. In his heart of hearts he'd always known it belonged with you.

Unable to contain the love he feels any longer, he pressed a firm kiss onto your cheek, "I just want it to be perfect for you. All you've ever dreamed of."

Yunho means it with his whole being. You could ask for the world and he'd find a way to give it to you, or at least run to the very ends of the Earth trying. Never giving up on his search unless you were the one to then tell him to.

You sit up suddenly, him pouting at the loss of warmth by his side while you turn to him seriously. Cupping either side of his face as your eyes pour into his, you make absolute sure that your words are heard loud and clear.

"You are everything I've ever dreamed of, Yunho.")

You're sat comfortably in a booth meant for two when the waiter brings your food, you both having settled for variations of the same pasta dish. The smell is just as inviting as when you first walked it.

As Yunho always does, he waits for you to begin eating first. It's only after you take a bite that he then picks up his own fork, and as he's bringing it to his mouth, he notices your gaze fixed on him.

"What?" He asks, nonchalant. He takes the bite off the fork while your shoulder shake with barley contained laughter. His chewing slows to a stop as the realization dawns on him. He looks down at his plate, a frown creasing between his brows. "Oh. This tastes horrible."

Your giggles break through at that, his head shooting up at the sound and a grin taking over his face on it's own accord.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling despite your words. "It does."

Yunho can't help but chuckle as well, and before long you're both unable to contain your equally loud laughter. Yunho can't find it in himself to be upset at yet another unexpected bump in the road when you just find it so funny.

It's a while before you two are able to look at each other again without laughing, and once you can, Yunho suggests taking your chances on the food vendors you had passed coming inside. Street skewers sound like fine dining compared to the over salted yet still bland pasta in front of you, so you agree.

The chicken skewers are in fact a lot tastier. You and Yunho share your respective two before your walking down the same street as before, interlaced hands swinging between you.

Dinner was unfortunate, but the second half at least was completely out of Yunho's control. He feels better because of that and your easy going reaction to it all. In the future, he imagines you too cracking up over it again, about how the night he proposed was so far from perfect but ended as happily as ever. He can't physically smile any wider at the thought of what's to come, so he squeezes your hand in barley contained excitement.

He can no longer deny the nerves twisting in his stomach once more. The actual proposal was the one thing that could absolutely not go wrong. He couldn't picture in any way that it could - you were a few minutes walk away from the park it was meant to happen, and he could still feel the weight of the ring that he had no way of forgetting in his pocket. Surely it would be smooth sailing from here.

Yunho's steps stutter as he recognizes what sounds suspiciously like thunder rumbling overhead. He huffs a laugh, because there's no way - he must be just so on edge that he's imagining things now. The weather was the one thing he had worried about the most and planned carefully around from the beginning, constantly checking the forecast all morning just to reassure himself. It'd read as a zero percent chance for rain the whole day. No signs of a drizzle at any point this week, even.

But then the first drop falls, and Yunho swears this must be a joke. He tilts his head up as the rain starts, picking up momentum a lot quicker with every passing second. You come to the realization just as he does, shoulders rising as a surprised gasp leaves your lips.

"Let's get you inside," he says, glancing around for any kind of overhang. The closest one he sees is just up ahead, a little further into your walk and closer to the parking lot his car is in.

Determined to at least get you out of the rain before deciding his next course of action, he tugs on your arm. The rain only falls harder with every hurried step you both take, and even if your positively soaked already, Yunho tries to pull you along quickly. Belatedly taking into account how damp the sidewalk has already gotten too, until you almost entirely slip out of his hold and onto your knees on the concrete.

He manages to stop you from completely face planting, but doesn't miss your slight wince as he helps you back to your feet. Yunho decides the overhang is a lost cause and you're better off going straight to the car instead. So, with hurried but more cautious steps, he takes you straight there.

You're both equally drenched by the time he helps you into the passenger seat, and rounds the car to his driver's side. He breathes a sigh of relief once he's finally out of the frigid rain, and quickly cranks up the car to get the heat started before you get sick. He flicks on the overhead lights as he turns to check on you.

"Are you-" Yunho starts to ask, but his gaze falls onto you knee that presumably had hit the ground after your fall. The other came out unscathed, luckily, but he doesn't feel the least bit better when your left knee is scrapped enough to have small droplets of blood forming. "Oh, love, you're bleeding..."

"I'm okay," you reassure, a smile on your lips despite the angry redness of your knee. "It's just a little scratch."

Yunho still feels terrible, even as your sat on the bathroom sink while he dabs at the scrapes with feather like touches. The cotton ball in his hand hardly makes any contact with the wounds, and you can't help but laugh softly at his overly careful antics.

"I don't know if that's doing much of anything," you tease lightheartedly, hoping to ease some of the crease between his brows.

It does no such thing, "I don't want to hurt you even more."

You sigh, "Yunho, baby..." His frown is still fixated on your wounded knee, so you gently cup his chin to encourage his attention back to you. "Look at me. I'm okay, I promise."

You bring your right hand to hold the other side of his jaw, holding firm eye contact to ensure your words stick. Presumably they do, but you don't anticipate Yunho's own filling with tears in matter of seconds.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, attempting to blink away the wetness clouding his vision. It doesn't work, and the first tear makes a pitiful trail down cheek, tugging on your heart as it goes.

"What?" You register his words, mirroring his frown. "Baby, you did nothing wrong."

Yunho stands up straight, running a hand through his damp hair as he begins to ramble, "Tonight was supposed to be perfect for you. Hyung helped me plan everything and it all seemed so nice but then absolutely everything that could've went wrong did and then I made you trip and - and I just want marry you but now you're hurt because of me and I-"

"Yun," you cut him off with a careful hand on his shoulder. "You want to marry me?"

Yunho freezes, his brain catching up to his mouth and he groans, "I really did ruin everything."

You sigh, lifting your hands back up to hold Yunho's shoulders firmly in place.

"Ask me," you simply say.

Yunho sputters for a moment, searching your expression for any hint of upset or disappointment. He doesn't know how to feel that he finds none, only the slight quirk at the end of your lips, pushing an all knowing grin.

"What?" He asks, the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks causing a painful twist in your chest. You reach up to gently dab the wetness away, directing him a warm smile.

"Do you have the ring on you?" You ask instead.

Stunned, Yunho scrambles to pat down his pockets. The one thing that hadn't gone completely wrong all night - he didn't forget the ring. He pulls the velvet black box out of his back pocket. He holds it in his hand, staring blankly at you.

"Well?" You probe, crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you going to ask me?"

Yunho blinks dumbly as he comes to understand. He feels himself wanting to cry again for an entirely different reason. Biting back his own grin, he lowers himself to one knee - not an easy feat given your compact apartment bathroom. His back foot hits the wall and he's nearly in your lap by the end of it, but you're both too giddy to care.

"My love," he starts, feeling unsure. "Tonight did not go how I envisioned. At all. But it did reaffirm everything I already knew. I've always known, and right now I believe. In us and our future, more than anything. Will you-"

"Yes," you cut him off, unable to wait another second. "Yes, Yunho, God, yes."

You throw your arms around his neck, laughing and shaking and feeling the happiest you've ever felt. Yunho laughs as well, encircling his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder.

"Can you let me finish?" He teases easily, feeling a thousand times lighter and happier himself. You nod against his shoulder and huff a laugh of your own.

"Right, sorry," you pull back with a sniffle, wiping under your wet eyes. "Please continue."

Yunho laughs, his eyes filling with tears of joy as he opens the box back between you, "Will you marry me?"

A swarm of butterflies erupt inside of you, a feeling you haven't stopped experiencing since meeting Yunho all those years ago, and you nods hurriedly, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Yunho."

His face nearly splits in two with the grin that takes over his features. He wastes no time pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto your finger, heart warming at the perfect fit.

It's beautiful, practically glimmering under your overhead bathroom lighting, but all you want right now is to be in Yunho's arms once more.

So you toss yourself back into his embrace, holding on like your life and mind and heart depends on it. He clutches onto you just as tightly, pressing kiss after kiss into your still damp hair.

Yunho needs to finish cleaning your knee. He also wants to make you take a shower and strip of your wet clothes before a cold really sets in and so he can proper bandage the wound after. But for now, this is all he wants. To be holding the love of his life and now fiancée at the end of a long day that, despite everything, had turned out even more perfect than he could've ever imagined.

Yunho knew he could look forward to even more bad days, so long as he always had you to come home to at the end of it all.

[kimsunos]

IM SO HAPPY UR INTO HYBRIDS OMFGGWHSI

gawd ok it's cliche but idc, bunny!reader and fox!sunoo, horny x horny lmao

going at it for hours on the regular all while being loud asf and not giving a shit abt anything, sooo many quickies and heats go even crazier dare i say it'd make satan blush, a match made in hell for others lmao.

hii baby! dont even know if youre into it still because i made you wait too much for it and for that i apologize 😢 but nonetheless i LOVE rambling about hybrids so here goes nothing.. Also this is very long for no reason

cw: female reader, fox!sunoo, bunny!reader, dom!sunoo, sub!reader, primal play, kinda perv!sunoo (gasp), biting kink, degradation, dacryphillia, dumbification, breeding kink, name calling (bunny, bitch, etc), spit play? (sunoo licks her lmao), sunoo is a sly fox 🧐 also he says "bunny" a lot.

your parents, since you were little, warned about the precautions needed to take as a prey. and as a family of rabbit hybrids, you were, of course, a bunny with big, fuzzy ears on top of your head and a toothy, cute, happy smile.

you always thought this judgement your parents and all the older rabbits had towards predators was stupid. "don't go near wolves", "don't talk to lions", "bears can smell you from miles away", "never trust foxes". this is modern times, we are not savages anymore! oh, if you had just listened to their advice.

"you can't imagine how long i've been dreaming about this." said sunoo, the gentle fox hybrid that every day ordered a drink at the coffee shop you worked, now, not as gentle, as he pushes your head on the mattress and thrusts mercilessly into your pussy from behind. you'd never have imagined that the date and the shy kiss you shared at the end of your work hours would end this way.

"bunny... my bunny," he said, voice intoxicated with desire, and slowed down his movements, lowered himself to rest his bare chest against your back and slowly dragged his nose from your cheek to your neck, sniffing in your scent gland, absorbing it like a hungry man. "oh, god, your scent..." another big sniff, "always drove me crazy, bunny. did you know that?"

with your face on the mattress, you could only whine and wiggle your fluffy tail, voice muffled by the pillow, falling into the pleasure of his cock making you feel so full. sunoo laughed, his movements now at a quicker pace.

"you're so fucking innocent, baby," another laugh, his breath unsteady, going deep at you, hips doing wonders to reach your most sensitive spots. "you really thought i was just a nice guy, huh? coming everyday at your job, sitting at that table in the back... such a nice costumer, big tips too." you could hear the smirk in his voice, condescending tone, his sharp nails drawing circles on your back, gracious movements contrasting with the mess he's making of you. "the truth is, i could barely contain myself in that small cafe, bunny." his scratches would for sure be visible the next day. "so ready to please and so naive. bet you didn't even notice the way my hands would always find yours, the way i watched your movements... or did you?" you whined as he talked. "remember when i offered a bite of that brownie to you? and you sucked on the plastic spoon like a bitch in heat, hungry eyes on mine and shit?"

no verbal response from you but a clench, embarrassed to be caught red-handed. such unwise actions, bunny. a rabbit flirting with a fox? really? and you still had the audacity to think you were in control.

"fucking answer me, bitch." sunoo yanked you by your furry ears, hard enough to lift your body off the mattress, placing your back against his chest again, making you moan loudly. his movements getting faster, skin on skin noises mixing with the red-haired boy's animalistic grunts and your cries.

"s-sun, slow d-down, ple-"

"oh, bunny," he laughs. "you want me to slow down? hm?~" hand still with a firm grip on your ears, causing you to bend your neck in an almost uncomfortable position, if it wasn't for the pleasure washing over all your other emotions. "p-poor bunny, can't handle big dick? this is what you're made for, can't you even do that?" and there you were, crying, overwhelmed by the degradation and how it made your insides even more wet.

"oh, god," his hips hitting even faster now, you could feel him losing all his control. "god, f-fuck- bunny, don't do this to me~" he said, releasing your ears to grip your hips, you could only cry. turning your head sideways, you meet his foxy eyes and vertical pupils now blown out in complete insanity, seeing you cry, your most prey-like state, ears down in submission and everything, it made the predator in him fucking crazy. "bunny- b-bunny, my bunny-" he started licking your tears away, chanting your name like in a trance. "b-bunny, i'll make you m-mine, 'mmkay? will y-you let me?" he kissed your neck, stopping to paint your skin with hickeys then and there. "s-stuff you full of me, baby, knock you up real good, hm?~" his voice was whiny and loud as he bit you, sharp fangs poking at your neck, and another bite, and another, almost like trying to literally eat you alive.

"nnngh- oh, s-sunoo, s'deep, f-full." you mutter, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"shhh, baby- i know, r-right?~ don't worry, turn off your brain, l-let me do the thinking for you."

[theowritesstuff]

Yours No More

Nikolai Lantsov x gn!healer!reader

Summary: Hiding an almost-relationship with the Prince of Ravka is hard enough, but it gets even harder to navigate feelings when he’s engaged to a Saint

Prompts: “are you really so oblivious?” & “it hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

A/N: What can I say? I love writing healer!reader. Also once again I’m mixing book canon and show canon

Sobachka - puppy

Moi tsarevich - my prince

Moi tsar - my king

SHADOW & BONE S2 SPOILERS

When thinking about your life, the young prince of Ravka seemed to be a prominent feature. There was before Nikolai, the life you lived before the palace, then there was after Nikolai, the life surrounded by other Grisha, serving the royal family.

You were offered up to the Lantsovs as somewhat of a personal healer, ready to tend to them whenever needed. The king and queen didn’t really have a need for a healer most of the time, and the older prince was often far from the palace. They younger prince however, the sobachka, had a tendency to dive headfirst into danger whenever he liked.

While this very well could have made Nikolai a thorn in your side, you’d quickly grown fond of him. It was impossible not to, what with his crystalline blue eyes, the blonde waves that adorned his head, and his charming, carefree spirit.

You’d been given an easy role. You’ve seen how other Grisha are treated amongst the other royals, sometimes even the soldiers from the First Army. Your poor friend Genya was dealt a terrible hand when it came to the roll she played in the palace, so you were grateful for the young prince’s kindness.

He became just as infatuated with you as you did with him just as quickly though. Whenever you ran to him healing a scraped knee, or when his parents sent you with him when he joined the First Army specifically to tend to him, you stole his heart little by little, until he could no longer call it his own. He almost looked forward to getting hurt, because it meant he could call upon you.

If asked he’d deny it, but he begged his parents to let him take you with him whilst he studied for his apprenticeship. They were hesitant to send you away, to lose their best healer, but Nikolai was persuasive.

He asked you to tailor him, just enough that no one would recognize the prince of Ravka on a ship. You reluctantly agreed, slowly waving your hands over his face, changing the features you’d grown to find comfort in. His blonde waves now a bright red, stark against his pale skin. His once sparkling blue eyes were now a muddy green color. The only thing that really remained of your prince was the ever present smirk he had.

“How do I look?” He asked you.

“Different.” You nodded.

“Good. No one will be able to pick me out of a crowd.” He looks over himself in a mirror.

“I could.” You stand behind him. “I think it’d be quite easy to pick you out.”

He smiles, but furrows his brows. “How so?”

“Well, let’s start with your posture. You’re still too regal. Relax your shoulders a bit. You’re no longer carrying the weight of a prince.” You place your hands on his shoulders, using your thumbs to massage the muscles. “Then there’s your charm-”

He quickly turns his head to face you, a bold smirk resting on his face. “You think I’m charming?”

You laugh. “I think you’re confident, sometimes overly so. I think you have this air about you that draws others to you.”

“Are you?” He asks, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Am I what?”

“Drawn to me?” He leans closer to you, his eyes shifting down to your lips.

Before he could press his lips to yours a sharp knock sounded from the door. You pulled away from each other quickly, both trying to hide your flustered states.

“Come in.” Nikolai called.

Tamar opened the door and poked her head in. “Love the new look captain.” She laughed. “Ready to go?”

Sailing the seas with Sturmhond took some getting used to. The few Grisha you knew helped you settle into this new life, while others in the crew wondered why their captain kept a healer so close.

You shared a bunk with a few of the other crew mates, but more often than not, Nikolai pulled you away to the captain’s quarters. He wanted to keep you close to him.

“What if someone breaks into my room and stabs me?” He asked, shrugging.

You shook your head. “Then you’d probably want the Bataar twins here to protect you.”

“Here I’d be. Laying on the floor, blood pooling out of my chest.” He collapses to the floor with a loud thud, a hand over his chest. “Slowly letting the life drain from my body.” He closes his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t be so dramatic sobachka. I know you wouldn’t take death laying down. You’d fight it until your very last moment.” You roll your eyes at him, but can’t help your smile from growing. “Even then, you’d probably drag your corpse to me.”

“I would.”

Occasionally, in the quiet night, he’ll allow you to wipe away the tailored face you’ve created for him, and bring back his softer Lantsov features. You brush a hand through his gold locks, pushing them away from his face.

He lets you admire him in silence. A clever quip waiting on the tip of his tongue, but he never allows it to escape in fear that it will ruin these moments with you.

“Moi tsarevich.” You sigh as your fingertips travel from his hair down the side of his face, tracing over his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to call me that.” He whispers to you. His eyes remain locked on yours as yours travel around his face, memorizing every detail of him.

“Nikolai then.” You give him a soft smile.

You reluctantly pull yourself away from him after a while, ready to tailor him back into his privateer persona. “It’s probably time for Sturmhond to return.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” now you smirk at him. “I think the prince is decidedly more handsome than the pirate.”

“Privateer. It’s an-”

“Important distinction. Yes, I know.” You laugh as you slowly tailor him back into Sturmhond.

Once finished you walk over to the other side of the room, where he’s added a bunk specifically for you. You blow out the few candles that were lit, and climb into your bunk.

“Y/n?” Nikolai calls from the other side of the room.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” You can hear his grin.

“Good night Nik.” You roll your eyes affectionately, rolling over to face the wall.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, your new nickname for him floating around in his head.

You’d fallen into an easy routine with Nikolai aboard the Volkvony. You spent time with the crew during the day, tending to injuries, sometimes even practicing the heartrender specialties with Tolya or Tamar. Then the evenings you’d spend with Nikolai. You keep him company as he makes plans for where the ship is going and why, you show him what the twins have taught you.

“Watch this, I can adjust your heartbeat a little bit!”

He watches as you do the heartrender motions in front of his chest. He can feel his heartbeat quicken just a little bit, but whether it’s from your powers or your close proximity he’s unsure.

“You don’t need to use your powers to make my heart speed up.” He takes your hands in his and holds them to his chest. You feel his heartbeat through the thick blue coat he’s got on, and sure enough it’s beating faster than usual.

He’s smirking down at you, proud of how flustered he’s seemed to make you as you pull your hands away from his chest. You excuse yourself, and quickly leave him there, wondering whether or not he holds the same power over your heart that you do his.

Evenings are spent sharing moments with Nikolai, both of you teetering on the line that divides friendship and more. Quiet moments shared where you both wonder what would happen if you crossed that line. If you just leaned into each other, and took what your hearts most desired.

When Nikolai had taken in Alina Starkov and Mal Oretsev you were nervous. You knew Nikolai had a penchant for adventure, but harboring the sun summoner and a deserted First Army soldier was an entirely new venture.

You knew that he wanted to take them back to Ravka, to regroup with the First and Second Army there to find a way to destroy the Fold and take down Kirigan. He helped them find and kill the sea whip, giving Alina another amplifier to use, while you stayed behind on the ship, away from the danger.

Nikolai grew closer and closer to Alina as time went on, well after she learned who he actually was then punched him out of frustration. It was clear he was trying to create some sort of relationship with her, a type of alliance between the Ravkan royals and the living Saint.

Whilst Alina became closer with the prince, you started to form a bond with Mal. He was a bit hesitant about you at first, having a hand in keeping Nikolai’s identity a secret was a little hard to forgive, but he found you were a nice change from the air that Nikolai brought with him wherever he went.

“You spend practically every minute with him. You must find him insufferable.” Mal scoffs, watching Nikolai attempt to win over Alina.

It breaks your heart a little, watching him with her. It almost feels like you’ve been pushed to the side in his life. What was once a life long friendship has now turned into a mere partnership. He’s replaced you in his heart with a new Grisha, one much more powerful than you.

“No.” You shake your head. “His company means the world to me.” You tell Mal, quiet enough so he’s the only one that hears you. “You know what that’s like though. To spend so much of your life with someone that you form what you think is an unbreakable bond with one another.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. He feels the same way. He knows Alina loves him, he’s sure of it, but like you, he fears that something could pull her away from him.

Being back in the palace separates you even more from Nikolai. Instead of sharing a room with him, you now occupy a room at the other end of a hallway from him. You both long for one another in the quiet night. His room is far too empty, and his bed far too large for just himself.

You think that maybe he’ll ask you to stay with him, like on the Volkvony. That you’ll share a space with him again and you’ll have that little bit of peace you once shared. But he never comes to your door, and you never go to his.

Nikolai doesn’t fail to notice your relationship with Mal starting to grow. While you once sat by his side during meals, Alina now occupies your seat, and you sit with Mal, laughing with each other about something only the two of you can hear.

He feels something in his chest, a sharp pain to his heart. This is something even you, the best healer he’s ever known, couldn’t fix.

You feel the same pain when he announces his engagement to the sun summoner. Unlike Nikolai, it takes a moment. He announces it at dinner, while the First and Second armies are gathered together, that their marriage will help heal Ravka. You’re frozen, too shocked to move. It’s Mal that pulls you back to reality, his hand on yours.

You feel the pain in your chest, a twisting sensation in your stomach, as you turn away from Mal to look back at Nikolai. He’s looking around at the cheering soldiers, but his eyes catch yours for a moment. He sees the red that begins to outline them, and the tears welling up. He looks like he might go to you, to assure you that you have his heart, and not Alina. But he straightens himself out, then sits back down.

He desperately wants to follow you as you quickly exit the room, no doubt heading back to yours. He wants to chase you down the halls, to wrap you up in his arms and wipe away the tears he’s the cause of, to whisper words of love against your lips. But he can’t. He must marry Alina for the sake of his country.

He keeps an eye on you at the engagement party his mother threw for him. You’re talking with other Grisha. You look breathtaking. The only thing missing from your ensemble is the Lantsov emerald. You don’t spare him one glance at all that night. That is, until chaos ensues.

Shadow monsters destroy everything in sight, and take the lives of so many. You search for Nikolai in the bustling crowd, but a hand grabs your arm, pulling you away. Zoya drags you away from the scene before you, tugging you through numerous hallways.

She leads you to a series of tunnels underground, all while you try to pull away from her.

“You won’t be of any use if you die trying to save the prince.” She grumbles at you. “You’re one of the few healers here, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

You hate to admit it, but as usual she’s right. There are dozens injured, some worse than others. You’re about to get to work when someone calls out your name.

You look down to the other end of the hall to see Nikolai. He looks fine, no visible injuries, but he does look distraught. He practically sprints to you, and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I couldn’t find you. You weren’t there, and I thought-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine Nik.” You pull away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

His scan over you, searching for injuries, until you lift his chin so he’s looking at your face again.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

He nods and takes a deep breath.

“Besides, shouldn’t I be the one worried about you? I am your healer after all.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Right.”

Alina pulls Nikolai away, asking if he’d seen Mal anywhere. You take that as your cue to leave. You start going from person to person, helping heal them in any way you can.

When it comes time to make a plan for Ravka’s next move, and Nikolai and Alina suggest finding the Neshyenyer, your mind starts to wonder. He’s sending Tolya and Zoya to go to Ketterdam and recruit the Crows to find it.

You think selfishly for a moment. It would be a way to get away from the soon to be king and queen of Ravka. A way to alleviate your heart of the pain you feel when you’re around them.

“I’d like to accompany Tolya and Zoya.” You tell him.

He looks surprised to say the least. “Why?”

“Well, there will be seven people looking for a mystical weapon, danger is bound to arise, they may need a healer.” You attempt to convince yourself and him that this is the reason you’d like to go.

“No. You’ll stay here.” He shakes his head. He can’t fathom so much space between you. “You’re my healer.” He puts emphasis on the word my, you don’t know if he notices it, but you do.

You listen intently for his heartbeat. It’s pace slowly accelerates as he starts to pace around the room.

You step in front of him, blocking his continuous path, and take his hands in yours. He closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of having you so near. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I think we both know, I am yours no more sobachka.” You murmur.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes. You can see tears slowly start to build up. “If you insist that you must go, take this.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his gold compass. “So you can always find your way back home.” Back to me.

The trip to Shu Han was definitely an eventful one. Tolya kept a watchful eye on you after being told explicitly by Nikolai to protect you at all costs. The Crows were an eclectic bunch, no one quite like the other.

Seeing Nina again was nice. She was still the same witty friend you remembered her to be.

“What? The prince let you off your leash?” She laughs when she first sees you.

“The king.” Zoya corrects her.

“Yes, he’s tending to his country, and his soon to be wife at the moment.” You tell her.

Her face falls slightly as she looks between you and Zoya. “Oh. My apologies, I didn’t-”

“It’s alright Nina. I’m really here to help forget about him.” You lower your voice. “Besides, he was never mine to lose.”

You stayed with Tolya through the heist, getting nearly killed by poisonous gas, and choking down a butterfly to save yourself.

Other than the poison slowly making its way through your body, the gas didn’t harm you physically. It lulled you to sleep, pulling you into a sweet dream.

You were with Nikolai, of course, in the palace. Light shone into his room from the large window, making the gold in his unkempt hair shine. His arms were wrapped tightly around you as you both lay the soft sheets of his bed.

“Hello my love.” His voice is deep, still strained from sleep.

“Moi tsar-”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing soft kisses against the column of your throat. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You can feel him smiling against you.

“Pirate Prince then.” You smirk.

He scoffs, then pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He says, moving to cup your face with one of his hands.

You reach a hand up onto his bare chest, just over his heart. You listen, searching for the all too familiar rhythm, but you don’t hear anything. You give him a sad smile and shake your head. “Me too Nik. But I know this isn’t real.”

He pouts. “Promise me you’ll come back. Back to the palace. That you won’t find a new life in Shu Han, or Ketterdam.”

You know he isn’t real, that he isn’t actually asking you to come home to him, that it’s just what you wish he’d do. Even so, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.”

You wake with a burning sensation in your throat, in the dark temple. Tolya and the Crows are with you, some in a coughing fit, others completely silent.

Tolya comes over to you, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

His eyes scan your face. “What did you see?”

You know he can hear your heartbeat spike. He glances down at your hand as you subconsciously reach for the compass that hangs around your neck, hidden under you clothes. You know you won’t get away with lying to him, but you do it anyways. “Nothing.”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t push for an answer.

After retrieving the blade, you all head back to Ravka together. The Fold has now expanded, nearly covering the entirety of the Spinning Wheel.

“Stay with Zoya.” Tolya tells you. “You’ll be able to help Alina.”

Your heart yearns to go with the other group, to find Nikolai, but you know saving the sun summoner takes precedence over anything at the moment.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Nina tries to assure you. “He was always headstrong.”

Kaz glances at you as you wring your hands, about to follow Zoya, Nina, and Inej.

“Y/n.” He calls to you. He walks over to you and speaks lowly. “Watch over my wraith, and I’ll keep an eye on your king.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

The journey into the Fold was terrifying. You kept yourself as silent as possible as the four of you searched for Alina. She and Mal were near the edge of the fold, fighting what looked to be a volcra. It had a hold of Alina’s hair, pulling her further into the darkness.

Inej slashed the monster with the Neshyenyer, killing it. They both looked grateful to see your little group.

“We need to get further into the Fold to destroy it.” Alina nods her head towards what looks to be nothing but pitch black.

You check over Alina for any injuries as you head further into the darkness. You heal any small cuts or scrapes you find on her, quietly watching her skin mend back together.

“There. In perfect condition to destroy the Fold and save Ravka.”

She snorts out a laugh. “No pressure, right?” She creates a small bundle of light in her hand and stares at it.

You smile at her. You want to dislike her, but you can’t. The living Saint who has stolen Nikolai’s attention from you is actually amiable. She’s kind, very brave, and willing to do anything to end this war.

“You’re going to make the perfect queen when this is all over.” You tell her.

She looks up at you and shakes her head. “I never wanted this. Nikolai thinks this engagement will strengthen Ravka, but I know my heart belongs to another.” She glances to Mal. “Just as his does too.” She turns back to you with a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t love me. I don’t think he could love anyone the way he loves you.”

“He doesn’t-”

“Oh, I assure you. He does.” She scoffs. “When I accepted his proposal I thought that maybe we could learn to love each other, but I see the way he looks at you. I hear the way he talks about you. I may be the sun summoner, but to him you’re the brightest. You’re the shining light in his life.”

You feel warmth spread across your face. Did Nikolai really feel that way about you?

“If we succeed today, the crown may be mine, but I promise you, the heart of the king will be yours.”

You understood just how strong shared love could be when you saw Alina light the fold. Combined with Mal’s power she was able to cast an immense light into the darkness. Flashes of gold and pink spread around you.

Kirigan arrived not long after, ready to fight Alina, but she was able to assail him. You rushed to Mal’s side when he collapsed, trying your hardest to help him. Kirigan had delivered a near fatal blow. In all your years of healing Nikolai, you’ve never had to heal something this large.

Alina falls to her knees next to you, taking his hand in hers. You do everything you can for him, focusing all of your power on keeping him alive.

Streaks of light flew from Alina. Reds, purples, and golds flashed through the sky, breaking apart the Fold. She takes a dagger from Mal’s side, and plunges it into his chest, screaming out as bright blue lights surrounds you. You shield your eyes, but can still see the blue behind your eyelids.

When you open your eyes again, the Fold has dissipated.

“Can you heal him?” Alina asks you, with tears down her cheeks.

“I’ll try.” You nod at her, then turn your attention back to the now unconscious boy.

Kirigan slowly rises up, and walks towards you. Alina stands up, taking a protective step in front of you and Mal.

“Now, you know sacrifice.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” Alina tilts her head up at him. “And look what it did.”

“Indeed. Look what it did.”

You try to start Mal’s heart again, but can’t seem to get it. Nina kneels down next to you, lifting her hand to his chest.

“I’ll get his heart started again. You focus on the wound.”

You take a deep breath, then pull the knife out of him, quickly moving your hands to sew his skin back together.

You’re so focused on saving Mal, that you don’t realize Alina has knelt down next to you again.

“He’s putting up a good fight, this one. Like something’s holding him on the other side. Give him a reminder then, of what matters over here.” Nina tells her.

After a few moments Mal wakes up, gasping for air. You sigh in relief, leaning back to check over the rest of the group. Inej and Zoya are both unharmed, staring down at Kirigan’s body.

Zoya stays with the body, while the other five of you start the hike back to the Spinning Wheel. Your spirits lift as you get closer and closer, and enter through one of the walls.

There are bodies strewn about on the ground, and groups of people gathered with hushed conversations. Their attention all turns towards your group as you enter though. Most of them are watching Alina, giving her silent thanks for finally destroying the Fold. Kaz’s eyes are locked on Inej, only briefly scanning over her, before he looks to you and gives you a slight nod.

You look past him to see Nikolai sitting with Tolya and Tamar. He’s got blood smeared on the side of his head, and he struggles to rise to his feet. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you, slowly limping in your direction. You rush to him, holding his waist with one hand, and the other pressed against his chest.

“Nik, what happened? I leave you alone for a few days and you nearly get yourself killed.” Your words are teasing, but your tone doesn’t quite match.

“I’m okay.” He smiles at you.

“Let’s go sit down so I can heal you, alright?” You guide him away from the group to a more private area. He sits down on a crate, groaning at the pain in his leg.

You heal his leg, then sit next to him, with your hand hovering over the wound on his head. He’ll have to wash the dried blood off, but you’ve closed the wound.

His eyes wander over your face as you heal him. He feels whole, complete with you here next to him.

“I should go see if anyone else needs any help.” You say quietly, rising to your feet.

He grabs your hand in his, softly pulling you down next to him again. “Allow me to be selfish for a moment, and keep you here all for myself.”

You reach into your top, and pull the compass out from underneath it. You lift the chain up over your head and hold it out for him.

“It seems you need it more than I do.”

“No.” He closes your hands over it. “It kept you safe. And it brought you back to me.” He whispers.

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back into your eyes. It looks like he’s having an internal battle with himself. A battle that only ends when he leans forward and brushes his lips against yours. You lift your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself. He pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Everything comes rushing back to you in that moment. You softly push him away, breaking the kiss, and turn your head from him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching for your hand again.

You pull your hand away from his reach quickly. “This isn’t right Nikolai.” You stand up and take a step away from him. “We can’t do this, not when you’re engaged to Alina. I can’t-”

He’s quick to get up and move to stand in front of you. “Y/n, I assure you, my heart belongs to you.”

“You can’t say that Nikolai. You can’t just play around with my feelings.” You shake your head and wipe away the tears started to form in your eyes.

“Play with your feelings? Are you really so oblivious?” He scoffs. He takes your hands and holds them to his chest. “Listen to my heart. Hear the way it beats for you, just for you.” He takes a tentative step closer, so close to you that his nose brushes against the tip of yours. “It hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

“But Alina-”

“Was just a political move. I thought that an alliance with the sun summoner would strengthen Ravka.” He takes a deep breath. “But a marriage with her wouldn’t mean anything to me, not when I could’ve had you.”

“Nik…” You trail off, attempting to gather your thoughts.

He lets go of your hands, and moves to hold your face. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again, that you’re going to leave and live in Ketterdam, and I promise you, you won’t ever have to deal with me ever again.”

You can’t fathom doing any of that.

“Or, tell me that you’ll stay here with me, and that we’ll work this out. Tell me that you feel the same way I do. Because I will find a way to rule Ravka with you by my side, I swear to you.”

A smile starts to spread across your face. “You always have been stubborn sobachka.”

Before he can retort you pull him into a kiss, sealing your own promise to him, that your heart does in fact belong to him.

[selineram3421]

*stumbles in and door slams into the wall* Ding-dong💘

Soft Love

Alastor X Chubby Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ food mention-desserts and strawberries, hurt/comfort, italics=thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, mention of cannibalism, slight implied/suggestive ⚠

Life in Hell was hectic.

Love in Hell? Nearly impossible to find.

Especially if its real.

Alastor knew you as the kind, soft demon that everyone got along with in the hotel staff.

Kind even to him.

Your work at the hotel was mostly in the arts. The Princess has you in the therapy area to help sinners express their emotions with different mediums.

Such an interesting demon you were with many hobbies. Painting, singing, dancing, baking, designing, cooking, knitting, photography, drawing. The list could go on possibly for a while, you haven't shared all of them.

He was curious, wondering exactly what damned you to Hell.

"Alastor!"

Speak of the devil, you called.

"Yes dear?", he looked up from his book.

He sat on the lobby couch that was just across the bar, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"Could you try something for me? I made some lava cake for desert but I want to make sure yours is the right amount of bitter."

Yes, you were also very considerate and attentive.

"Of course dear!", he stood from the couch and whisked his book away into the shadows. "You know I always look forward to your baking."

He followed behind you, smiling a little wider at the pep in your step.

The Radio Demon knew that he had feelings for you. It took him a while to come to terms with it but let it happen anyway.

You were also the only person that he touched (respectfully) often. Holding your hand, linking your arms together, squishing your cheeks, holding you close for a dance. All excuses just to feel your warmth and softness.

Sure, he's let his friend Rosie touch him but she knew that he didn't like physical contact too often unless it was needed for dancing.

"I made your cake less sweet too!", you turned to look back at him with a smile.

"I appreciate it."

Once both of you entered the kitchen, you showed him the cakes and got out two different chocolate mixes.

"The lighter one is the sweetest, and the darker one is quite bitter.", you placed the bowls on the counter. "I actually want to try it with strawberries too.."

"Sounds appetizing!", he stepped closer and placed his hand on your lower back, leaning forward. "I wouldn't mind having a bite."

You blushed and avoided his gaze.

How adorable.

"I'll get a spoon for you to try the chocolate.", you said before walking out of his hold and over to the drawers near the door.

One thing he noticed was that when it came to his touch, you'd shy away. When he gave you compliments regarding your appearance, you would brush him off or put yourself down.

It upset him greatly.

Somewhat impatient, he swiped up some of the dark chocolate with his finger and tasted it.

"Alastor!"

Like a child, he quickly held his hands behind his back as if to hide something.

"Yes?"

You sighed and got a napkin before walking up to the red man.

"No use in hiding what you did.", you held out your hand.

"But I'm not hiding anything.", he shows you his hands by placing them on yours. "See?"

You hum and pull him down by his hands. "You've got chocolate on the side of your lip deer.", you point out and laugh.

He let's you clean him up with the napkin.

When you pull back, he stops you by taking a hold of your hand with the napkin. Calling your name, the Radio Demon looks you in the eye.

"I have a question for you"

"What is it?", you ask.

"Why is it that whenever I give you a compliment, you disregard it?"

In a second you stiffened and stared at him wide eyed.

"W-what? I don't do that..", you tried to pull away.

Alastor places a kiss on your fingers, still not letting go of your hand.

"Don't lie to me my dear, I always remember everything about you."

You look away with a sigh.

The frown on your face makes his unbeating heart ache.

"I don't like to talk about it.", you say and pull away.

Instead of leaving, you move the bowls and hop onto the counter to sit. Then you take a moment before speaking.

"I wasn't always treated right because of how big I looked.", you said with a sad smile. "I wasn't beauty standard perfect, or had a body that someone could ogle."

The red demon listened.

"When I did get into a relationship, it wasn't good. I was belittled, abused, and cheated on. But I still loved with my whole being..", you moved your hands onto your lap. "I was stabbed to death by them."

Alastor had to hold back his anger.

He wanted to find the person who dared treat you like nothing. To torture and rip them apart. To eat them alive.

"Silly, isn't it?", you smiled sadly, staring down at your hands. "Its what got me killed in the first place but yet I'm still chasing after it."

The Radio Demon slowly took your hands and gently rubbed them.

"You just put your heart in the wrong hands.", he said and lifted your hands to kiss your knuckles. "If I was the one who you loved, you wouldn't have to worry about any affairs."

He kissed the inside of your wrist.

"I'd compliment you everyday."

You were blushing madly at this point, too shocked and flustered to stop him.

He kissed your shoulder.

"I would never hurt you.", he says and kisses your cheek before whispering. "Unless you asked me to."

"Alastor-", you got one of your hands out of his hold to cover your mouth and some of your red face.

He leans back a bit to get a good look at you.

"I don't know how they couldn't see you for who you are. You're absolutely divine and worth so much more than anything anyone else could offer me."

You were tearing up at this point, still covering your mouth.

Carefully, the deer demon moved your hand away and caressed the side of your face. Wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you."

You start tearing up more and he sees them start running down, some wetting his hand.

"I love all of you.", he smiles genuinely. "And if anyone dared try to insult or belittle you again, I'll make sure to torture them a million times over until you ask me to stop."

You've begun to quietly sob, wiping your tears as best as you could with your free hand.

"May I kiss you?"

You laugh at that.

"I'm a mess!", you say with a breathy laugh before sniffling.

"No, you're adorable.", he kisses the top of your head.

He let's you take a minute to calm down and helps you wipe your tears and snot away.

"Can you ask again?", you give him a shy smile.

"May I kiss you?", his smile widens.

"Yes please."

Both of you share a soft but long kiss.

I found the merch!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

None for right now until I can fix how to add more tags.

ML for Alastor🎙

Extra:

You confess to Alastor that you've had a crush on him for quite a while.

"How long?", he asks, deer ears perked up.

"Uh..haha.", you look away with a blush. "After a week of joining the hotel.."

Doing the math, he realized that you've fancied him four months before he started growing feelings for you.

"Is that why you would ask what my favorite meals are? And how much sweetness I could tolerate?"

You nod.

"I can't believe how oblivious I've been. You've been gifting and making things for me.", his deer ears droop down and his brows furrow. "I must make up for all the time you spent on me."

"It's alright love.", you smiled.

"No, you can't change my mind.", he says and steals a kiss. "I'm going to spoil you."

🫀

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Let's Fill Our Home with Warmth (part 12)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

Later Jason and Danny lay sprawled out in bed together, the last of the bruises fading from Danny’s skin as Jason traced absent little patterns over Danny’s back. Danny was purring softly between little sniffles, finally calm but still recovering. Jason kissed Danny’s shoulder and he purred louder, giving Jason a soft, tired smile. 

Jason smiled back and reached over to the bedside table for his phone, he was pretty sure there had been a notification while they had been fucking. Ya, one from Dick saying he had stopped by to check on them but heard… noises, so he’s left the takeout on the balcony. Imagining Dick’s reaction made Jason snort, at least Dick wasn’t a prude so he probably wouldn’t be too traumatized by hearing his little brother having sex. Danny gave a questioning little trill and Jason shook his head, putting his phone back down. 

“Dick left take out for us on the fire escape. I’m gonna go grab it. You have a shower, okay Moonlight? I’ll join you in a minute and then we can have dinner. We’ll both feel better once we’re clean and we’ve had something to eat,” Jason promised.

“Alright, don’t take too long,” Danny sighed, propping himself up and kissing Jason before sliding out of bed and heading to the washroom without bothering to grab any clothes. Jason lingered on the bed to admire Danny as he walked away before he got up and grabbed a pair of PJ pants so he could go grab the food. 

He smiled when he saw the bag, from a Thai place they’d been to with Dick so he knew what they might want, it was pretty damn thoughtful really. He put the bag down on the table and locked up again before going to join Danny in the shower, sliding under the water behind him. Jason wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist, and the other man immediately started purring. He leaned back against Jason and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat to Jason, who took the invitation to kiss along the graceful column of Danny’s throat drawing out a soft sigh of pleasure.

“How are you feeling now, Beloved?” Jason asked softly, it was a pet name he’d picked up from Talia. Ya she had been a mixed bag, but he’d spent a lot of time with her, and he respected her.

“Much better,” Danny assured with a little smile. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

“No, of course not,” Jason agreed, giving Danny a squeeze before letting go and reaching for the soap. “You were very brave doing all that, and ya, it could have gone better, but I don’t blame you. Besides, we handled it didn’t we? Nothing to worry about.” 

Danny nodded and stole the shampoo from Jason, pressing against his chest and starting to wash his hair for him. Jason chuckled softly but tilted his head into Danny’s hands and let him pamper Jason a little. 

They washed each other, and once they were both clean they grabbed some comfortable clothes and ate together, snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. There would be no patrol for either of them tonight, they were too tired after the meeting, and still recovering. Their haunt would just have to look after itself for one night, they would get back to it tomorrow and fix whatever small problems managed to go wrong during their day off.

They fell asleep on the couch, tangled together with the TV still playing. Jason woke up when the movie ended and turned off the tv, carrying Danny to bed instead of waking him up. Jason lay down with Danny curled up half on top of him, his cool breath tickling Jason’s throat. He shifted and got comfortable again and didn’t wake up. 

Jason was awake though, and was having just a little trouble going back to sleep. He was sure in the days to come they would be checked on by their friends, maybe even some of the members of the Justice League. He tried not to hope one of them would be Wonder Woman. He had idolized her as a child, and he wanted her to understand him. But if she did come and she was disappointed with him too, he thought it might break his heart, which was why he was trying not to hope she’d come.

Though now that the heroes knew he was back, and they knew Danny was powerful he wondered how long it would be before they reached out for help with something, and what it would be. Actually something from Danny’s other world, or something like Trigon? It didn’t really matter, they still had to live in this world and they didn’t want it to end, so they might as well help right? 

Maybe once they saved the world once or twice everyone would get off their backs and stop calling them villains. Jason didn’t like it, being a villain. He didn’t feel like a villain, he was still trying to do the right thing, make the world a better place, in his own way. And Danny had always been a hero, he lived to serve. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought about him besides Jason, and Ellie now, but Jason couldn’t help but think that somewhere deep down it bothered him too.

Jason stroked his thumb over Danny’s cheek gently, he gave a soft chirp in his sleep and shifted closer, it made Jason smile, his heart feeling warm in his chest. Things were fine the way they were, but they could be better. He hoped this was the start of things getting better. He wanted Danny to get the recognition he deserved, that he’d never gotten when he was an actual hero. Whether he would get it or not, he deserved it.

With Danny tucked safe in Jason’s arms and his mind full of pleasant fantasies about the future they deserved, Jason finally drifted off to sleep.

-------

Danny woke up first the next day, it happened rarely but when it did it meant Jason hadn’t slept well so Danny carefully phased out of Jason’s arms without waking him and went to put coffee to go. He would start to make breakfast for them, but he knew he wasn’t good at it and Jason had gently but firmly banned him from the kitchen. He considered ducking out to get them breakfast sandwiches from the nearest deli but he didn’t want to be that far away from Hood yet. After how yesterday had gone, if Jason woke up and found Danny was gone he might freak out, and Danny didn’t want that. 

So instead he just made coffee and went back to the bedroom, waking Jason with a gentle kiss. Jason hummed and stretched, opening his eyes halfway and smiling a little when he saw Danny. Early on, when they’d just moved in together, it was about a 50/50 shot that Jason would lash out at Danny for waking him before he processed who it was and that he was safe. Now he almost never did unless he had a nightmare, he had fully internalized that he was safe in their home, something that made Danny so happy he felt like he might burst. Instead he handed Jason his cup of coffee, fixed just the way he liked it, and curled up next to him with a contented little chirp.

Jason took a sip of his coffee and sighed contentedly, leaning his head against Danny’s hair. “No nightmares?” He asked in a sleepy mumble. 

“No, I was too tired I think,” Danny replied with a subtle shrug. “You?”

“No, Stayed up for a bit worrying about shit, but no nightmares.”

“You should have woken me.”

“Nah, I was fine and you needed your sleep. Besides, being able to hold you and have your weight on me was all I really needed anyway,” Jason assured Danny before he could get in his head about it. 

“Fair enough. Talk to me about it when you’re ready too, okay?” Danny compromised and Jason nodded.

They drank their coffee in silence, easing into the day before even getting up for breakfast. Finally they got up and headed to the kitchen, deciding to just have cereal for breakfast because Jason was too tired to cook. Danny was fine with that, he really liked cereal! Though his enjoyment was nothing compared to Tim, who they had learned was borderline obsessed with the stuff. 

Jason’s phone kept dinging through breakfast but he ignored the texts at first. If it was really important someone would call, and it was too early for business otherwise. After the fifth notification he gave in and checked it with a groan.

“The Teen Titans are texting us. Big Bird too. They want to know how we’re doing and if we can meet up today to sort of debrief about the meeting. They’re also asking about a number for you,” Jason said, glancing up at Danny, who groaned as well. He didn’t really have a phone, he had modified necessary tech like the coms to work around him, but given how tech fritzed around him, and Jason was the only one he really needed to contact, he hadn’t bothered with an actual phone.

“I should probably do that huh?” Danny said ruefully. “I’m not carrying it on patrol though!It’s going to have to be built like a fucking brick to work and it would ruin my figure!” He exclaimed with a dramatic pout, making Jason laugh and shake his head. 

“Whatever you want Danny, they can use coms to contact you on patrol anyway.” Jason agreed, even though he knew damn well Danny could literally store things inside his own body when needed. Maybe doing that with the phone would break it no matter how well fortified it was? It didn’t really matter. “What about visiting them today?”

“I’m not sure,” Danny hesitated, fidgeting with his spoon. “We’ve never left the Alley for two days in a row. Maybe we should meet tomorrow after making sure that everything is alright?” 

“Danny, it’s not a child, we don’t have to supervise it constantly. I’m damn sure if anything went really wrong someone would have called us. We can spend some time with our family. After that shit show yesterday it might do us some good.” Jason put his phone down and gave Danny his full attention again, there was something more behind this hesitance. 

“You’re right, of course you’re right. It’s just… Nevermind, it’s silly. Of course we can go if you want to.”

“No, it’s not nothing. Please tell me what’s bothering you Sweetheart,” Jason encouraged sweetly. 

Danny sighed, hesitated, opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. He shook his head and took a deep breath, biting his lip like he did when he was trying not to cry. Jason pushed his chair back and walked around the table, resting his hands on Danny’s shoulders bracingly. 

“I just don’t want to lose another home,” Danny finally managed to choke out and Jason’s heart dropped.

“You’re not,” He promised, leaning down to hug Danny from behind. He pressed his face into Jason’s strong bicep and sniffled, taking deep breaths that shuddered with the effort of keeping himself together. “You know, we haven’t wanted them to visit us here much because of our reputation, but I’ve decided I don’t care. Hey, maybe knowing we have powerful allies will make people even more intimidated by us. Let’s invite them to come to us so we don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to coddle me,” Danny said, his voice damp but stubborn.

“Of course, we’ve already had Nightwing and Robin coming and going anyway, I don’t think this’ll make much difference. We can check on everything to make sure nothing is about to blow up before they get here. And if anything does go wrong while we’re distracted we’ll have backup,” Jason decided. If anyone decided to question their allegiances Jason and Danny could make an example of them and remind everyone it wasn’t their place to question Crime Alley’s lords and protectors, even if they were still relatively new.

“Ya, you’re right. That sounds perfect,” Danny agreed, nuzzling against Jason before pushing him gently away. “I’m okay I promise, I’m just a little raw after thinking so much about the past recently.”

“Ya I get that,” Jason sighed, slipping back into his own chair while Danny went to get more coffee. 

“We’re doing well though,” Danny told Jason, gesturing for his mug, Jason handed it over so Danny could get him a fresh coffee as well. “My big sister wanted to be a psychiatrist and therapist and I internalized enough of her rants to know how healing works. We’ve built ourselves a safe place for our outbursts and our healing. You’re lashing out less and I’m dissociating less and facing my feelings more. I know I’m still bad about putting you first and ignoring my needs, but you call me on it and get the truth out of me. We’re getting better.”

“Ya, we are,” Jason agreed. It was helpful to both of them to have things laid out straight like that. Otherwise it was way too easy to focus on how things are now and forget how far they’ve come, and then it could feel like they’re not making any progress at all. “We’re not isolating ourselves anymore either, we have some support outside of just each other.”

Danny nodded and handed Jason his now full coffee mug. “We’re still pretty damn codependent though,” He said with a wry little smile as he sat down across from Jason again.

“Ya. Any plans of changing that?” Jason asked with dry humour.

“Hell no,” Danny laughed, nudging Jason’s foot with his own and smiling at him. “I’d drag you out of Tartarus Hercules style.”

Jason laughed and shook his head again, and refused to think about how Danny had mentioned being functionally immortal, and how frustratingly human Jason remained in comparison. 

----------

They decided not to let the Teen Titans into their nest, that was still just for family, but their largest safehouse would have room for everyone. Jason and Danny had worked together to haul in a bunch of chairs and make the place comfortable and clean. Then they split up and Danny went on patrol as Hyena while Jason bought and made snacks and made sure they had enough plates and cups. 

Danny had better senses than Jason, and with his increased strength and durability he was more likely to make it out of a scuffle unscathed even if he was alone. And since Danny couldn’t cook for shit this was the best division of labor. Jason did a fair amount of cooking, but he bought a lot too, because he knew that Impulse would be coming and there was no way that he could make enough food for both a member of the flash family and Danny on such short notice. Stuff from the local bakery and grocery store would have to do for the most part, and some home made cookies and snacks, which would have to be guarded from the two big eaters.

Danny had returned home safe of course, helping Jason with the finishing touches and mixing up some punch. Jason told Danny they didn’t need it, the canned drinks they had would be enough with the people they were having over. But Danny insisted that punch was good! And they shouldn’t pass up an excuse to make some, so Jason let him do it. And it turned out that he wasn’t alone in thinking that judging by how excited Dick got about the punch, only dimmed slightly when Jason informed him it was not alcoholic. 

The entire Teen Titans team had shown up, and Nightwing, none of them were in costume though. It surprised Jason and Danny and Jason felt a little silly that he was wearing his helmet at first, and he took it off quickly. This was just a gathering of friends, and it was lovely. At first he and Danny had been busy darting around playing host, making sure everyone had what they needed, and soon their apartment was full of joyful noise. 

Now that everyone was settled Danny was sitting in a chair and Jason was sitting on the floor with his head propped against Danny’s knee, with Danny running his fingers through Jason’s hair. Kon had stared at them for a long moment before he went and flopped down at Tim’s feet. Whatever Tim had been saying trailed off into spluttering and he blushed deeply when Kon leaned back against his leg, grinning up at Tim impishly. Tim scowled at him, but despite his attempt at looking reproachful he hesitantly carded his fingers through Kon’s hair as well. 

When he looked up and caught both Jason and Danny smirking at them, Tim flipped them off with his free hand, blushing all the way to his ears. This was… really nice, next time they should host the party at their nest. It would feel good to fill their own home with this sort of warmth. They weren’t really talking to anyone right now, Danny was speaking softly with Ellie next to him off and on, but mostly they were just basking in the company. This was something neither of them thought they’d have again after the losses of their previous families, it was nice, and Danny thought it would make him cry later.

 “Hyena?” Kon asked suddenly, underneath the noise of the general chatter, but with both their enhanced hearing Danny heard it no problem. He looked up, giving a questioning hum. “What does Kon mean?” 

Danny choked and sat back in his chair suddenly, his expression almost panicked as the noise in the room stopped. Even if they hadn’t heard Kon’s question, they had seen Danny’s response, as he stared back at Kon.

“What does my name mean?” He asked again, just as softly, but this time everyone heard. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” Danny asked softly. “It’s not nice. You like your name well enough don’t you? Why not just… keep it that way? And it probably should be Superman you ask about it, he named you right?”

“He did, but I think that he would lie. If I’m going to confront him about it I want to already know what it means.”

The logic was sound, Danny nodded slowly, considering.

“Maybe not tonight Kon,” Tim said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re really here for them aren’t we,” he gestured at Jason, Danny, and Ellie. “Maybe we should try to keep things light.”

“No, it’s alright,” Danny said, shaking his head. “If you’re sure?” He confirmed, and when Kon nodded he sighed. “Kon means… abomination. I’m sorry, it means abomination in the house of El.”

“Oh,” Kon said softly, and Danny saw Tim’s grip tighten on Kon’s shoulders. “Ya… Ya that’s not good, but I can see why he-”

“NO!” Ellie snapped, sitting forward in her chair and glaring at him. “Don’t make excuses for them! For either of them. Even if Superman didn’t agree to be cloned, that is no excuse to treat a living, feeling being like he’s treated you! You deserve better, and if you want to name yourself you should.

“My creator named me, literally the feminine version of his name,” She said, gesturing at Danny. “And considered me a failure because I ended up being female, I named myself Ellie, and Phantasm. You are your own person, You choose your identity! You choose your family, and you have good people around you. You decide what your name means.”

“Ya… I was mostly fine with Kon because it already worked as a short form for Connor, which is what you called me,” He said, smiling a little up at Tim, who smiled back bashfully. “But still… He could have told me any time. Or offered me a new name, I would have accepted. But he still… After all this time that’s still what he thinks of me?”

“Who cares what he thinks of you,” Ellie scoffed.

“Ellie stop, you’re being insensitive! You’re letting your anger speak, you remember how devastated you were when Vlad rejected you, and you still had me to love you,” Danny scolded her gently. 

“It’s okay, to care what he thinks about you,” Jason spoke up, looking Kon in the eye levelly. “It’s okay if you always want something from him that he can’t give. I may not be a clone, but I know what it’s like to have shitty parents. It gets easier, especially once you’ve learned everything you wish they had taught you, on your own or with your friends.” 

Kon mulled that over, and then nodded, leaning back against Tim’s lap. “Ya…” He sighed before shaking his head, probably filing all that angst away to process at a more conveniently time. “Hey Hyena? How do you speak Kryptonian?” He asked, and the abrupt change of subject startled a laugh out of Danny. 

“I speak every dead language, or at least understand them,” Danny explained with a little smile and Tim whistled softly. 

“Seriously? How many is that? What counts as a dead language?” He asked, and as he started quizzing Danny slowly conversation picked back up, though Kon stayed quiet, Danny stepped up to fill the gap in the conversation and they let Kon and Jason just… think, and process, surrounded by friends.

[angelinpiink]

thinking about... mikasa finding your number in her serial cheater boyfriend's (eren) phone. her jealousy of you immediately morphing into that for her boyfriend for getting access to you first. Upon seeing the nudes you’ve sent him, she’d scoff at disgust as to how he even got lucky enough to get your attention in the first place. her feelings for him subsiding upon seeing you—literal perfection. the sight of your plump ass and dripping cunt turning her on along with those sweet sweet moans in the video of you humping your pillow you’d sent.

not being able to control herself, she’d send the pics and videos to herself just to lock herself in the bedroom, fluttering her eyes shut and grind onto her own pillow. imagining she was rubbing her cunt against yours, your cries echoing in her ears as the video played aloud. she only wished she knew what name to cry out as she came, squirting all over the pillow (something eren had never made her do) but unfortunately he never saved your number or mentioned it in the conversations you had.

during the times where eren invites you over to the apartment when she’s away, mikasa will come back to find your panties under the bed. the only reasons she knows they are yours is because she’s seen them in the pictures you’ve sent eren. she steals them before eren even notices you left them behind and keeps them for herself. she’ll slip them on to toy with her clit through the thin fabric, her arousal only increasing upon noting that her juices have mixed with yours.

eventually poor mikasa gets fed up with fantasizing about having you and chooses to take initiative to set things in motion so that she finally does get a taste of that sweet cunt that she hears eren mention when having phone sex with you. so, mikasa steals your number from his phone. She texts you and plays the role of the heartbroken girl asking for answers about her boyfriends cheating.

“hey, so sorry to bother you. I was wondering how you knew eren? I found your number in his phone and.. well I have a few questions.”

“is it possible for us to meet up?”

she invites you to a cafe nearby and though hesitant to join her you oblige when she reassures you that she has no anger towards you and just wants clarity in the situation. things go smooth and the two of you meet up a few times after that, just for the sake of getting to know one another and eren becomes a forgotten topic.

one thing leads to another, with flirtatious words like pretty girl and babe, glances being passed back and forth the two of you end up back at the very apartment you’d hooked up with eren in. her hands gripping at your ass, the very ass she’s been dying to get her hands on as your lips are locked with hers. the two of you struggle to make it to the bed the pooling heat in both your cores becoming unbearable. you end up on the couch. she wastes no time, sliding your panties off and burying her face into your cunt, sucking away at your clit. “oh..my..more..please..” your hips bucking against her face as she slides her fingers through your folds, she tries her best to slurp up your juices dripping beneath you but you're making such a mess it’s hard for her to keep up.

“like that, baby?” “erens been neglecting this pretty pussy, he doesn’t know how to take care of you does he?” her thumb drawing circles into your clit. you shake your head too dizzy to form a response you let out moans, your thighs entrapping her face in your cunt with your hand to her head. speak of the devil, eren enters the apartment, with his new hook up on his arm that he had (your replacement due to you blowing him off to hang with mikasa )..not expecting mikasa to be home at this time— let alone be faced with the sight of his side chick being devoured by his girlfriend . he brings a hand to his forehead and sighs.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me..”

my masterlist!

[crows-in-the-house]

Disillusioned

Summary : (this statement by @/exodusin) / Mabel finds you in Bills penthause but instead of escaping with her, you show her your true colors. And your new husband, Bill.

pairing: Bill Cipher x gn! evil! reader

tw: none, tell me if i should add

Mabel couldn't find Dipper. For twenty minutes she's been running around Bills piramid only to get the demon further away from her Grunkles. That worked out. Kinda. Now she couldn't find a way back and had him running after her and her brother. And now she lost him! She really hoped he was fine. Hearing a booming sound she turned to another corridor. This one was looking... different?

It was smaller and narrow, as if the walls were about to crush her trying to protect something further. On the end of it, she found grand traingle doors. She really hoped whatever was inside would be harmless enough to let her rest a second. She opened them, coming into a big luxurious room. It looked like some sort of a penthouse with an expensive cauch, a fireplace, chandelier and a-

"Oh! Mabel, hi!" - Wait, what? It was you! Y/N her cool older friend, the one who helped her out in numerous adventures, and the one who vanished, just some time before the start of Weirdmaggedon! She could't belive her own eyes!

"Y/N? What are you doing here! Has Bill kidnapped you and inprisoned? We were so worried!" The girl rushed to hug you. "We need to go! Bill is-"

"Go? Oh Mabes, why would we go anywhere?"

She took a step back. You looked the same as always. Just maybe more elegant? Her tired mind desperately searched for the explanation for the weird feeling she had right now.

"Y/N... what... what have you been doing since the start of Weirdmaggedon?"

"Oh, well, I was sitting here " you gestured around the luxurious room. You didn't seem to be panicked at all. Have you get used to the situation? " I've been quite bored, but overall I'm fine, really! I'm glad you're here to visit!"

"Visit? No! I'm here to defeat Bill! Have you seen what he did to the town? To the people?!"

Despite your face being frozen on a smile something in your eyes changed. You didn't answer immiediately, stepping back to a table nearby, pouring yourself a drink. You talked slowly, as if you were soothing a panicked animal cought in a trap.

"Oh yes. Trully a work of art. It took time to design all of this you know? Do you have a favorite part?"

She felt her stomach drop. She misheard you right? O-or you're just acting! Or under some weird demonic enchantment, you wouldn't say such a thing, right?

You smirked tilting your head. " Well... in my opinion, the top three things would be... hmm, the walking water tower - I know, I know, a boring choice, but it walks very funny and-

"Y/N, listen-" you ignored her, continuing as she wasn't even there "- the second would be bubbles, very creative, colorful and fun, you know? Especially yours, it was so cute it made me a bit jealous! It's a shame I didn't get to visit tho. Yes I know, sorry, don't look at me like that, I will do that next time ok? Now! Drumrolls! the first place goes toooo-"

You looked at her as if wanting her to guess. In response she gave you a mixed look. It seemed like you clearly needed some help, but there was no time to sit around.

"I dont know, what is it?"

" ME " she jumped quickly pointing a grappling hook at the intruder. It was Bill, again in his yellow tamer form, standing awfuly close to you and holing-

" Dipper!"

"Nu-uh Shooting star! You're not playing with that toy anymore!"

At the snap of his fingers her weapon dissapeared. He grabbed her and before Mabel could move she found herself in the same hand where Dipper was trapped in. But you? You just stood there.

"Y/N! Help us!" her brother shauted. You only responded with a piting look in your eyes. Until your attention moved over to the demon getting closer.

"Hey toots! Check this out - a pegasus dropped it off today!" he handed you a card. From where the twins where placed they could see a drawing of the pyramid and a short text which Bill read out laud:

"It's a "I missed you, B.", and yes, it's me, I'm the B, also there was no pegasus, also there was me."

He blinked at you.

You gasped and smiled, your cheeks got darker and your hands tauched where your heart was supposed to be.

"Oh Billy! You're such a romantic!"

Dipper looked at you with disdtain "You just didn't say that."

"Oh but they did! That's my spouse after all!" you both laughed at shocked faces of the children. It was funny how none of the Pines realised they had a traitor among them. Now everything started to make sense. How you claimed to love spending time in the shack. How your face always lingered on Dippers journal. How you never smiled at Stanford but was always calming him down after a fight with his broher. How they all could always count on you, to take care of the kids on their silly adventures.

"How could you!" Mabel felt her eyes getting watery. She really liked you. She trusted you!

You shrugged lightly smiling. " Oh dear, don't be sad, it was always the plan. I'm sorry you have to be entangled in all of this"

"No you're not."

"Ha. True, I'm not. You know me so well kid."

"Why. Why did you do all of this? We were friends-"

"Oh HA HA HA, they already have friends kid! And money, fame, riches, infinite power! And the handsome ol' me! What else would they need?"

"An entire world to rule?" - You kissed Bills eye while handing him a drink "Oh, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way, you know? But i hate you. I thought I could get over it. But I feel sooo tired. And it's just the time to split up! I mean, honestly, you and your grunkles had lot's of chances to get to the right side of history but you decided not to. Now you pay. Tell my thanks to Ford, I would never meet the love of my life, if not for his stupidity." your smile dropped.

"Y/N you can still fix this!"

"As if!" Bills form grew larger while he opened the door "See you sweetcheeks, I will get that equasion in no time! Gotta disassemble some kids molecules!"

You stayed there smiling, waving back at Bill.

That was the last time they saw you.

[lovelybucky1]

The Doctor is In

Kinktober Day 11- Threesome

warnings: AFAB!Reader, student/teacher relationship, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, snowballing, dirty talk, smoking, alcohol consumption, robert x lawrence, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

When Lawrence confided in Robert about his recent dry spell, he was never expecting this to come from that conversation. Robert had told him he has a mistress, one Robert is certain his wife knows about but has yet to confront him about. She's young, pretty, bright, and has an interest in physics- or at least is attracted enough to Robert to pretend to care about his ramblings.

Lawrence was skeptical. He doesn't know many men who are eager to share their woman, but Robert has never been like most men. Maybe it's a kink for him to have another man fuck his mistress. Robert was open about what the two of you get up to, and it's safe to say that neither of you are very reserved in the bedroom.

After thinking about the offer for a day or two, Lawrence agreed. Robert already had a time and place in mind. Seven o'clock on Friday at his house for dinner. His wife would be away with the kids until Sunday, giving them the perfect opportunity to explore.

Friday came quickly and Lawrence found himself standing on Robert's door step with a bottle of wine in hand. Robert came to the door and greeted Lawrence with a smile, then lead him into the kitchen. Once there, he saw your behind bent over in front of the oven.

You take the chicken out of the oven and place it on top of the stove. Lawrence thought it was a bit odd to have a mistress cook in the wife's kitchen, but he supposed you and Robert were playing house for the weekend.

You turn around and saw both men standing at the kitchen table. Your face lit up when you saw Lawrence, but his stomach dropped when he saw you.

"Dr. Lawrence!" you say excitedly, coming over to both men. Lawrence stares down at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"You two know each other?" Robert asks.

"Oh, yes, he's one of my professors," you grin. "When you said you had a friend from work joining us, I was afraid it was gonna be one of those weird old guys."

Lawrence snaps out of his shock and looks over at Robert. "I didn't know your..." he feels it's inappropriate to call you a mistress to your face, "was a student."

"I didn't think it mattered," Robert counters.

"Please come sit, I made chicken," you say, drawing both men's attention.

Robert sits down at the head of the table with Lawrence to his right, leaving the seat to his left for you. The table is already set neatly and you bring over the tray with the chicken on it. The meat is steaming and the herbs are fragrant. There's mashed potatoes, a salad, and enough wine to leave the three of you drunk.

You make polite conversation over dinner, and Lawrence can't help but find it a bit humorous that you're making a date out of an arranged hookup. He is enjoying himself, though, so he can't complain too much.

The conversation revolves around work, and each time you speak, Lawrence is reminded that you're his student. His kind, polite, curious student who always brings him an apple and sits in the first row. You are a brilliant student and your work is always impressive. He never thought you would be the type to get mixed up in an extramarital affair with Dr. Oppenheimer, but Lawrence supposes he doesn't really know the true you.

Your food is delicious, the best Lawrence has had in a while. He thinks to himself that you would make a good wife, then chastises himself for thinking that way about a student.

"What's the matter, Lawrence?" Robert asks, breaking Lawrence's train of thought.

Lawrence looks between the two of you. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he says. There's a blush rising to his cheeks and he feels shy under your attention.

"Don't be nervous, Doctor. We'll take good care of you," you smile reassuringly.

You reach over and grab his hand. Your fingers are delicate and your hand is small compared to his. His heart races and he suddenly has the urge for more wine.

"I suppose since we're on the topic, we should discuss how the rest of the night is going to go," Robert says.

"That's a good idea," Lawrence agrees.

"To get the awkward question out of the way," Robert starts, as if this won't all be awkward. "Do you fuck men?"

Luckily Lawrence's mouth was clear of food because it would have been lodged in his airway after hearing the question. Lawrence clears his throat and looks between you and Robert.

"I... haven't."

"Are you interested?"

"In you?" Robert nods. "I don't know... I haven't really thought of it."

"We'll start off slow, then."

Lawrence's head is spinning. His coworker just asked him if he wanted to have sex and now he has to continue on living his life as if that's normal. As if he's not intrigued.

"What kinds of things do you like, Doctor?" you ask.

"Um..." Lawrence says as his mind races to find an answer.

"Any particular turn-ons you have?" Robert asks.

When he still doesn't answer, you speak up. "Well, I can tell you what I like and you can tell me what you think about them."

"Yeah," Lawrence nods. "That sounds good."

You scoot closer to him and rest your chin on your hand, somehow making yourself look even cuter.

"I like older men who have experience. They know what they like and aren't afraid to take it. I like a strong hand to guide and to please me. And I want to be worshipped." Lawrence listens intently with wide eyes. "How do you feel about that?"

"I, um," he clears his throat, "I like it. All of that. Sounds good to me."

You smile widely and look over at Robert. "How about Dr. Lawrence and I take turns on you, dear?" he says. You agree excitedly.

"You don't have to call me that," Lawrence says, feeling unusually timid.

"Call you what?" you ask.

"Doctor."

You stand up from your chair and push Lawrence's plate back so you can perch yourself on the table in front of him. Your legs are crossed but your skirt still shows a fair amount of thigh. It's nothing Lawrence hasn't seen before, but now he's allowed to look. Your feet hang between his parted legs and he traces the seam of your stockings with his eyes.

"But I like calling you that," you say, batting your eyelashes. "But I could call you professor if you'd prefer."

Lawrence's eyes flick over to Roberts, searching for signs of discomfort or objection, but only found a smirk.

"This is... inappropriate," he says. "You're my student."

There is a slight pout to your bottom lip. "Doesn't that make it better? I've seen the way you look at me in class, Doctor. I bet you've thought about what would happen if I came to your office and asked for extra credit."

Lawrence shouldn't be surprised. Robert wouldn't spend time with a girl if she wasn't a firecracker. You just look so sweet and innocent, it's difficult to fathom these dirty words are coming out of your mouth.

You uncross your legs and part your thighs, giving him a peak of your delicate panties. "No one has to know, Doctor."

You're a seductress disguised as an angel. You're the snake tempting him to take a bite of the apple and let the delicious juice drip down his chin.

Lawrence slides his chair back to make space in front of the table, then drops to his knees in front of you. He's staring directly at your clothed cunt and he can practically smell your desire from there.

"What are you doing, Lawrence?" Robert asks.

Lawrence looks over at him and expects him to be angry, but he is smirking. "You're not going to fuck my woman on the dinner table. You'll take her to the bedroom like a gentleman."

It's a bit ironic that Robert wants Lawrence to be a gentleman and fuck his mistress in his wife's bed, but he's the guest here, he's in no position to argue.

Lawrence nods and rises to his feet. He holds out his hand to help you down from the table, which you eagerly accept. You lead him through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, Robert following close behind.

You turn the lamp on and turn to the two men standing in the center of the room and sit at the foot of the bed. "Daddy?" you ask, voice sweet as honey.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you take my shoes and stockings off please?"

Everything about this situation surprises Lawrence. You call Robert Daddy? He is eager to kneel at your feet and take off your shoes and stockings when you are perfectly capable of doing so yourself?

Once your pantyhose is balled up next to your shoes on the floor, Robert begins to kiss up your legs. You hum with contentment as he does so, but you don't look down at him, no. You're looking at Lawrence.

"Come here, Doctor," you say, beckoning him forward.

He crosses the room to stand next to you. You reach out to grasp his tie and you pull him down to your level. His breath hitches in his throat at the display of dominance, eyes glued to your lips.

"I like when Daddy's in charge, but I always get what I want. He spoils me rotten, but that's the way I like it. Daddy knows what happens when he denies me, doesn't he?" you ask.

Robert peaks up from underneath your skirt. "I've learned my lesson," he says before resuming his exploration of your thighs.

"Are you going to give me what I want?" you ask, turning your attention back to Lawrence.

He swallows thickly. "Yes."

You grin. "Wonderful. Now, take off your shirt."

You let him go and he stands up straight. Lawrence is surprised that you're so demanding, almost entitled, but he's working open the buttons on his shirt anyway.

He reveals his pale chest dusted with light hair. His pink nipples are peaked from the cool air in the room and he feels a flush rise to his chest under your gaze. As he opens his shirt further, you can see the happy trail that leads underneath the waistband of his pants, and your desire for him grows.

While you watch Lawrence, Robert pushes your panties to the side to touch your pussy. He gently strokes your clit with his finger and tongue, caresses your folds with slow licks, and dips his fingers just the slightest bit inside you. He's teasing you, but you're not worked up enough to complain about it yet.

"Now the pants," you order.

Lawrence slips off his shoes and undoes his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. You lick your lips at the sight of him standing in his briefs.

"Daddy," you say, pulling him away from your cunt by his hair.

"Yes, dear?"

"Take your clothes off too."

Robert does as he's told and undresses. You watch Lawrence trying not to watch Robert and it amuses you. Once both men are left in their underwear, you pull down your skirt and take off your blouse, leaving you in your own undergarments.

You stand up and step between the two men. You place a hand on both of their chests and urge them closer. Lawrence hesitantly puts his hands on your waist and Robert grabs your hips from behind. Both of them explore your body with your hands, and when they touch, Lawrence gasps.

"No need to be so shy, Doctor," you say while looking into his eyes. "Daddy doesn't bite."

Robert tucks his face into the crook of your neck and does just that; he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and you gasp. Your back arches and your chest presses against Lawrence's.

The man in front of you looks down at your breasts, almost entranced by them. You notice, of course.

"You can touch them if you want," you say.

Lawrence studies your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he sees is you batting your doe eyes at him. He slides his hands up your torso and cups your breasts in his large hands. You hear him let out a shaky breath and both you and Robert chuckle.

"He's so easy, Daddy," you giggle.

Robert wraps his arms around your waist and presses his chest against your back. "It's been a while for him, honey. Don't be mean."

Lawrence's cheeks are a delicious pink and it makes you want to tease him even more. You run your hand down his chest, stomach, over the fuzz under his navel, and over the bulge in his briefs. His body jolts at the contact, so you do it again.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"That's a naughty word, Doctor. I didn't think someone like you would do something like this."

Your hand slips underneath the waistband and you grasp his cock. You give it one firm stroke and when he lets out a groan, you grin.

"Haven't you tortured Dr. Lawrence enough for one night, dear?" Robert asks. He's phrasing it to sound like he's trying to benefit Lawrence, but you know he's getting impatient.

"I just want one more thing, Daddy," you say, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Anything for you," he smiles.

You have a devilish twinkle in your eye, one Robert knows well. "I want you and Dr. Lawrence to kiss."

Lawrence gawks, his eyes flicking up to Robert's to see if he's also shocked. To his surprise, Robert looks as if you've just asked him the weather.

“You’re a scientist, Ernie. Do it in the name of research,” Robert suggests. “Or in the name of getting your dick wet. Whatever works for you.”

"Okay," Lawrence says hesitantly.

Robert moves from behind you to stand next to Lawrence. He gently places his hand on the taller man's hip and leans close. You watch eagerly as Robert reaches up to press his lips to Lawrence's. Lawrence is stiff, but he's not rejecting the kiss. He's pliant for Robert, allowing him to take control.

The kiss doesn't last long and there's no tongue, but it was enough to satisfy you. When the two men part, they both look over at you. Robert's pupils are lust-blown and Lawrence looks like he could pass out.

"Was that what you wanted?" Robert asks.

"It was perfect, Daddy," you smile. "Now Dr. Lawrence has earned my pussy."

You scamper off to the bed and lay down on your stomach. Your feet hang over the edge of the bed a bit so there's enough room for Robert by the pillows.

Robert walks around the bed, taking off his underwear before climbing onto the mattress and sitting in front of you. His cock is hard and leaking, and you bite your lip in anticipation of what's to come.

"You tell him what to do, Daddy," you say while looking up at Robert through your lashes.

With Robert's legs positioned on either side of your head, you open your mouth and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. He lets out a groan when you suck gently.

"Why don't you come give our good girl what she wants," Robert says over your head to Lawrence.

Wordlessly, Lawrence steps forward and gently grasps the waistband of your panties. You move your legs to make it easier to take them off and Lawrence is met with the sight of your dripping cunt.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself.

Lawrence takes off his own underwear and begins to stroke his dick while looking at your ass. Robert watches him with a raised eyebrow, wondering when he'll get to it.

"Eat her out first. You can't fuck her dry," Robert says.

"She certainly isn't dry," Lawrence says as he kneels behind you and spreads your legs apart.

You squirm a bit when he leans in, his hot breath tickling your inner thighs. He starts by licking up your pussy, vaguely aware that Robert did this earlier. He can't tell if he's tasting your juices, Robert's spit, or a mixture of the two, but it's intoxicating.

He teases your clit with his tongue while you do the same to Robert's cock. You can't help the moan that escapes your mouth when Lawrence works his tongue into you. His hands grip your thighs as he buries his face deeper into you, making his glasses dig into your skin.

It's good, too good, but you know getting fucked by him will be better. You pull off of Robert and look up at him with a pout. "Make him stop, Daddy. I wanna cum on his dick, not his face."

The idea of you soaking his face makes Lawrence groan into your pussy and he is reluctant to stop. You're clearly impatient because before he has the change to remove his tongue, you're reaching back and pulling him away by his hair.

Lawrence whines at the tug on his roots. It's an accident, an entirely involuntary reaction and one you will file away for later.

"You heard her," Robert says, giving Lawrence the green light.

You work your way farther down Robert's cock as Lawrence kneels on the bed behind you, positioning himself properly. The tip of the cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. Robert looks down at you sympathetically and cups your jaw, stroking it soothingly.

"Take it all, gorgeous. Don't choke on it, I know you can do it."

Lawrence would be lying if he said Robert's dirty talk to you wasn't also affecting him. His cock drips as he nears your entrance and he is certain he won't last long. His tip bumps against your folds and you tense up at first, but then relax.

"Go ahead, Doctor," Robert says with a teasing lilt. "Fuck her."

Taking directions from Robert makes Lawrence's cock throb, but he pointedly ignores the implications of that in favor of relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt as he pushes into you.

He goes slow as to not hurt you, but your hole swallows him up greedily so he figures he doesn't have to worry about that. Once he's seated fully inside of you, he lets out the breath he was holding.

He braces himself on his hands and knees and begins to rock his hips. After so long with only his hand, your cunt feels like heaven. Even the friction of his lower stomach on your ass makes him dizzy.

At the head of the bed, your lips are pressed around the base of Robert's cock and you're focusing on trying not to choke. He's praising you like he always does, but it's hard to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

Your lipstick stains his cock, marking him in a way that makes Robert's possessive hindbrain go wild. He tries to be considerate when you suck him off like this, but it's so difficult to stop himself from bucking into your mouth and making you take him.

Pretty soon, you're getting fucked from both ends. Lawrence is pounding into your cunt, dick dragging along that sweet spot inside of you that fuels the flame inside of you. Robert instructed you to relax your throat so he could grab your hair and work you over his cock at his pace.

This is always your favorite part of the scene, when your bossy, bratty demeanor is replaced by a needy, submissive one. You're still getting what you want, but the punishing strokes of both men make it feel like they're the ones calling the shots.

Your whines and moans are muffled by Robert's cock, but both he and Lawrence are making noise freely.

"You feel so good," Robert praises. "My pretty little girl."

Lawrence doesn't do any talking, save for the occasional swear. There's mostly heavy breathing and small moans coming from behind you, and that just won't do.

"Spank her, Ernie. Makes her even tighter," Robert says.

"Can't get much tighter," he says, breathless. He brings his hand back and delivers a slap to your outer thigh. You choke on a cry and like Robert said you would, you got tighter. "Shit."

"Her cunt feel good?" Robert asks. He knows how hot it makes you when he talks about you like you're not there.

"So fucking good."

"You like sticking your dick in students, Doctor?" Lawrence moans low and long. He drapes himself over your back to rut into you with a newfound desperation. "You're never going to look at her the same."

Robert's right. The two of you have ruined Lawrence's life. He won't be able to teach or even think about physics without thinking of his student with the tightest pussy he's ever fucked.

"I'm gonna cum," Lawrence says. He's embarrassed that he was so quick, but he held it off for as long as he could.

"You better pull out," Robert says, still forcing you down on his cock. "You wouldn't want to knock her up, would you?"

Lawrence curses and quickly sits up to jerk himself off over top of you. Robert watches intently, ignoring you while Lawrence squirts his cum on your lower back. He groans and his head lolls back, the fatigue and relief hitting him once he's ridden through his orgasm.

Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed to catch his breath, watching the scene in front of him. "You're not finished," Robert says, his voice noticeably more airy now. "You're not done until she cums for you."

Resuming his earlier position, Lawrence eats you out with the intent of having you soak his face. He rubs your clit with his thumb, fucks you with his tongue, and moans into your cunt, all while you get face fucked at the head of the bed.

"Good fucking girl. You're gonna make me cum," Robert says to you. "Where do you want it? On your face?" You try to shake your head but Robert's hand on the back on your neck makes it difficult. "You want to swallow it, don't you?"

You moan loudly and nod the best you can. Robert smirks down at you and his body relaxes as he prepares to cum down your throat. You allow yourself to be used and focus on the pleasure of Lawrence's tongue inside you.

Like the last time he got you close, it didn't take much time at all. Before you know it, your cunt gushes all over his face and you cry out. Lawrence's mouth floods with your cum and he drinks it down eagerly.

With one particularly deep thrust, the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You're helpless to do anything but take it, though you don't swallow yet. You know Daddy likes to see it in your mouth.

Distracted by Robert's orgasm, you don't realize that Lawrence is still working your pussy until it becomes painfully sensitive. Robert pulls out of your mouth and lets go of your neck and your body jolts, trying to escape the stimulation.

"Stop," you whine, but its muddled by the puddle of cum on your tongue.

Lawrence immediately pulls away and you look at him from over your shoulder. He's sweaty: hair wet, chest glistening, and glasses foggy. He looks absolutely wrecked, but you don't get to admire him for long because Robert pulls your attention back to him.

"Hasn't anyone told you not to talk with your mouth full, little girl?" he asks, holding your jaw. "Open up, let me see."

You do as you're told and stick out your tongue so he can see the pearly liquid. He smiles, satisfied, but it morphs into something wicked.

"Why don't you go give Dr. Lawrence a kiss, dear? Thank him for making you cum."

Robert gives you a look that screams don't question me. You sit up, legs shaking, and turn to where Lawrence stands at the foot of the bed. You don't say a word, but you look up at him with wide, tantalizing eyes.

This time, Lawrence doesn't look to Robert before making his move. He ducks down and cups your jaw with his large hand before slotting his lips against yours. You escalate the kiss by pressing your tongue to the seam of his lips and when he allows you entrance, you let the cum flow from your mouth to his.

Lawrence whimpers, surely disliking the bitter taste, but swallows it quickly to get it out of his mouth. Despite that, he keeps kissing you for a second longer.

"Did you like it, Doctor?" you ask once you part.

Lawrence isn't certain if you're asking about the sex or the cum.

"Yes," he breathes.

You smile widely and look over your shoulder back at Robert, who is still sitting shamelessly nude and spread on the bed. The three of you sit in silence for a moment before Lawrence starts to redress.

No one offered him a place in the bed for the night and he certainly wasn't going to ask to stay. You crawl back up by Robert and cuddle into his side, laying your head on his wife's pillow. You both watch as Lawrence rebuttons his shirt and slips on his shoes without untying them.

Once dressed, Lawrence looks at the two of you and clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. "Thank you for having me," he says.

"Our pleasure," you giggle.

Robert reaches over to the night stand and takes a cigarette out of his case and lights it. He takes a long, slow drag of it before speaking.

"See you on Monday, Doctor."

Lawrence smiles sheepishly and walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Work certainly is going to be different from now on. Most notably, no one will be able to address him without him popping a boner in the middle of a lecture.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come Morning Light

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta spend a lazy day together, baking bread and drawing. takes place after first games before cf

After learning from Effie that you had a rare day off, you made your way over to Peeta’s house in the Victors Village. Things had been weird between you since returning from the games and you wanted a chance to spend some time with him to settle things. You knocked on his door and when you found it open, you made your way inside.

“Oh. Hey.” He smiled when you found him in his kitchen.

“Hey. Did I hear correctly that we actually have the day off?”

“We do. And Effie made it very clear we’re not getting another one anytime soon. So we better enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna spend it?” You asked as you leaned against his kitchen table.

“I’m just gonna bake some bread and watch the rain. All boring stuff.” Peeta said with a soft smile. Peeta thought you would leave after that, but you didn’t budge.

“Why? What were you gonna do?” He asked curiously.

“Bother you.” You shrugged with a coy smile. Peeta returned the smile when he realized you wanted to hang out but didn’t know how to ask.

“Impossible. You never bother me.” He declared.

“Never? Even after all the times I’ve woken you up screaming?”

“No. Because when I hear screaming, I know that means I get to hold you. So no, you’re never a bother.” Peeta said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. You looked down to hide the smile that he always managed to put on your face. He could never know how much you missed that reassurance that he would always be there for you when you had your nightmares.

“You know, Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lives and never deserve you.” You told him.

“Oh, did he?” Peeta smirked and folded his arms.

“I think it may have been one of the rare times he was right about something.” You said playfully. Peeta felt ecstatic to hear you say this, but played it cool.

“Well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He replied. You smiled at him before going over to where he had his baking supplies set up.

“So what kind of bread are we making today?” You asked as you picked up his apron. He playfully snatched it from you and tied it around it waist. You pretended to be offended for a second, but he was quick to provide you with a matching apron. You didn’t know why he had two if he lived alone, but you didn’t question it. You just held out hope that maybe it was for you.

“I’m making challah bread. You can just sit there and look pretty.” Peeta nodded towards his kitchen table as he tied your apron around your waist.

“Peeta, I won the Hunger Games with nothing but a bow and some berries. What makes you think I can’t make bread?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you can’t make bread.” He insisted. “And I know that because before you win the game, you fed me disgusting soup.”

“You said you liked my cave soup.” You gasped.

“I was trying to spare your feelings.” He said with a cheeky smile. You pretended to be offended again and threw some flour at his face.

“Wow, Peeta. Next time you get injured, don’t come to me for help.”

“Well I definitely won’t come to you for food.” He said out of the corner of his mouth. You gasped and tried to throw more flour at him but he caught your wrist and spun you around. You smiled at the gesture before playfully shoving him away.

“Please let me help. I’ll do better then the cave soup. I promise.”

“Fine. You can mix this.” Peeta said as he poured two cups of something into a mixing bowl and handed it to you. You smiled proudly and mixed the contents of the bowl with a wooden spatula.

“Is this important? Am I being helpful?” You asked as you mixed.

“No. That was just two cups of flour. You didn’t actually mix anything.” Peeta admitted. You looked up at him in surprise and he was armed and ready with a handful of flour. He tossed it at your face and laughed as you coughed.

“Peeta. Let me help.” You whined as you cleaned your face.

“Just leave the baking to the baker, all right? I don’t show up in the woods and try to hunt.” He teased as he folded some eggs into his dough.

You watched him expertly mix the dough until a light and fluffy consistency was left in the bowl. You couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, moving as if with muscle memory. To get a better look, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. Peeta stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into you.

“There’s no cameras in here, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” He said quietly. You were surprised by this comment and pressed your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not pretending anything.” You told him. “I just wanted to hold you.”

“So you’re not acting? You really want to help me bake bread?” Peeta asked skeptically as he turned around in your arms. You toyed with the strings of his apron for a second before looking up into his eyes.

“I really do.” You answered honestly. “We never get to do anything normal together. I just wanted one day where we can just be us.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while as he tried to decide whether he should believe you or not. He so badly wanted to, but could never fully let his guard down around you after you revealed the way you acted in the first games was partially an act.

“Okay. Come here. We have to knead the bread.” Peeta said once he decided he was satisfied with your answer. He pulled you by the hand and placed you in front of him before wrapping both arms around you.

“Oh no.” You chuckled dryly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Oh yes. I’m a romantic. This is how we teach.” Peeta said as he put his hands over yours and began to knead the bread. You had seen this scene play out in old romantic movies that sometimes played on your TV and you knew Peeta must’ve seen them too. It was stupid, but it made you feel good inside.

“Do you teach everyone to knead bread like this?” You looked over your shoulder to question him.

“I don’t exactly go around teaching people how to make bread.” Peeta chuckled.

“Oh. I must be special then.” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him over your shoulder. He was so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent tingles down your spine.

“Must be.” Peeta mumbled in your ear. You gulped and felt your face heat up, feeling grateful Peeta was behind you so he couldn’t see what he was doing to you. He continued to use his strong hands to make yours knead the bread.

“I hate the way this feels.” You said to break the silence.

“Then you’re gonna hate to hear that we have to do this for at least ten minutes.” Peeta laughed as you groaned.

“Peeta.” You whined but didn’t try to stop.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay and make bread. You could’ve run off into the forest to hunt with Gale, but you chose to spend your day off with me.” He reminded you.

“You’re right. I did.” You agreed with him as you squished the bread between your fingers.

“Where is Gale, anyway?” Peeta asked, and you could tell his intentions no matter how cool he tried to play it. He wanted to know if you were only with him today because Gale was busy.

“Probably at the Hob or something.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t know where he is? Aren’t you guys always together?”

“Not always. I’m with you.” You said and looked over your shoulder at him. Peeta smiled timidly as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re with me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I’m with you.” You smiled at him before returned your attention to the bread.

“I can’t help but wonder for how long.” Peeta said softly. There was no self-pity in his voice, just an honest expression. You stared into the dough and felt guilty pile up in your stomach.

“I know it’s confusing. I know I’m confusing. I wish I had more answers to give you.” You said quietly without looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m happy just doing this.” Peeta answered honestly.

“So am I.” You realized and leaned back into him.

You continued to knead the bread in comfortable silence as a gentle rain patter hit the windows. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, peace only Peeta could give you.

“Is it done yet because it’s seriously grossing me out.” You said after a minute of the silence.

“It’s done.” Peeta chuckled. “You’re free.”

You slipped your hands out of his and quickly ran to the sink to rinse them.

“Ew, ew, ew.” You grimaced as you cleaned your hands. “That was grosser than when I had to clean out your leg wound.”

“Really? This is more disgusting than that?” Peeta laughed in surprise.

“Yes. I don’t know how you do it.” You stuck your tongue out as you dried your hands.

“I’m a baker. It’s my passion. I don’t know how you skin animals and don’t throw up.” Peeta remarked as he tossed the dough around a little and worked his hands into it. You shamelessly watched him do this for a second before snapping out of it.

“I’m a hunter. It’s my passion.” You humored him. Peeta looked at you fondly as he let out a laugh.

“You’re funny when you want to be.” He remarked as he put the loaf in the oven.

“Not you, though. You’re always funny. Even in the most life threatening situations, you’ve still made me laugh. And nobody can make me laugh.”

“I’ve noticed that. That nobody else can do it. Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be the one who can.” He admitted as he stared at you with that ever present fondness.

“Well it works.” You shrugged and held his gaze. You stared at each other for a moment before looking away in embarrassment.

“So how long does that bake for?” You asked him.

“30 minutes. Then we test it to see if it’s risen.”

“Hm. What should we do for the next 30 minutes?”

“Actually, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Peeta said with a timid smile.

“Uh oh. What’s that?” You asked coyly.

“Draw you. If that’s okay.”

“Haven’t you drawn me before?” You asked, knowing you’d caught glimpses of his sketches every now and then.

“Yes. But they’re all side profiles because I draw you when you aren’t looking. I want one of you facing front.”

“Okay.” You agreed as your face heated up from the request. Peeta grinned and went to grab his sketchbook as you sat on his couch. You felt the almost untouched furniture and felt sad that he lived in this great big house all by himself. When he came back, he positioned himself across from you and looked up eagerly.

“How should I pose?” You asked and raised your arms in a dramatic way you’d seen people in The Capital pose.

“Just relax. Sit how you would normally sit.” Peeta chuckled and began to sketch out your face.

“Well I don’t remember how to do that anymore.” You realized as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

“Then just pick a way to sit and stay like that.” Peeta laughed again. You obliged and relaxed into his couch as you stared at him. He sketched the outline of your head while you studied his face closely. The sun was beginning to dim below the horizon, making Peeta’s foyer his favorite color, a soft orange. The way the light hit him made his blonde hair and eyelashes appear golden.

“Your eyelashes are so blond.” You commented without thinking.

“What?” Peeta looked up as his entire face turned red.

“I’ve never noticed that before. They’re so blond and shiny. They look almost golden from here. Like Effie’s hair.”

“This place gets really good lighting. It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows that.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Now you’re one of two who knows.” You replied, making his smile go from sad to lovelorn.

“That’s true.” He said softly. You exchanged a smile before he went back to drawing you. You felt like you were spying on him from his closely you were watching him but you never got to see him this peaceful. You studied the way his hands moved around his sketchbook and admired how they somehow knew exactly where to go.

“What are you staring at?” Peeta asked, catching you in the act. You gulped and knew you were caught, so you just came clean.

“Your hands.” You admitted and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, face still in a rose blush.

“I can’t talk. I’m posing.” You said in an attempt to change the subject with a joke.

“You’re all done posing, actually. Come take a look.” Peeta said. You got up from your couch and leaned over him to look at what he had drawn. On his sketch pad was a perfect little charcoal drawing of you. You hadn’t posed for him yet he managed to perfectly capture your most neutral expression. You knew he most likely drew it from memory since you were definitely no help while posing.

“Peeta. That’s beautiful.” You gasped and looked into his eyes. Peeta looked up at you as you leaned over him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah. You are.” He spoke softly. You looked into Peeta’s eyes before letting your gaze drop down to his lips. Before you could psych yourself out, you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips had merely brushed his when the timer went off, making you jump at the sound.

“The bread is-“

Peeta cut your sentence off by tilting his chin the rest of the way up to kiss you. He sat up on his knees and slipped a hand behind your head to properly kiss you as the timer continued to go off in the background. When he pulled away, you were left breathless while he moved some hair off your forehead.

“Sorry. I wasn’t about to miss out on that kiss for bread.” Peeta smirked as he got off the couch. You watched him walk back into the kitchen and touched your fingertips to your lips. You were still buzzing from the kiss as you walked into the kitchen.

“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” You smiled politely while Peeta took the bread out of the oven. Once it cooled, you took a knife and went to cut into it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Peeta stopped you.

“Cutting the bread?”

“You can’t just hack into it. There is an art to cutting bread, my dear. Here. Let me show you.” Peeta said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind again.

“Oh boy. Here we go.” You playfully rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“It’s like this. Yeah?” He said into your ear. You stayed silent as you watched his hands work over yours to cut the bread into perfect diagonal slices.

“You staring at my hands again?” He asked suddenly, making you freeze.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He chuckled softly in your ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like them and can’t really explain why.”

“I know the feeling.” He whispered in your ear after a beat of silence. Peeta let go of one of your hands and used it to touch your side braid.

“Your braid is on a different side today.”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” You gulped as he toyed with the end of your braid. His hand moved to your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the side of your neck that your braid wasn’t on. It sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“I like it.” He whispered against your skin and placed another kiss on your neck.

“You noticed that it was different?” You asked as you turned around in his arms.

“I notice everything about you.” Peeta said simply. You looked into his eyes and smiled before taking hand hand. You brought two prices of bread over to his front door and opened it. You sat across from each other and watched the late afternoon rain that drizzled through the dimming sunshine. You bit into the warm bread and listened the rain falling while Peeta just watched you. When you noticed him staring, you gave him a pointed look and nudged his shoe with your foot.

“You know, Effie told me there’s a stove on the train.” You told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can show me how to make cake tomorrow?” You asked, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything you want.”

[whitedarkmoonflower]

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away. 

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him. 

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability. 

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood. 

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating. 

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you. 

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades.  It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you. 

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you. 

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice. 

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly. 

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss. 

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

[crushedsweets]

Can you draw or talk more about Toby and Eyeless Jack or even the X-Virus?

YESSSS i can. heres a lil doodle to get me started.

OKKKK the little concept in my head has slender's MAIN GOAL being to prevent any paranormal/supernatural stuff coming out to the general public. hence his proxies being made to get rid of tapes, evidence, and kill if Necessary. sometimes slender makes paranormal/supernatural ppl help out his human proxies "as payment for refuge" in his forest. SO that sorta explains how toby and jack know each other and why jack helps at all. he can't rlly go out to the public so he's stuck with these assholes. it's not really supposed to be a 'mansion' trope, moreso random cabins and shelters littered about the forest, but it could work in the mansion au too

Imma ramble abt toby n jacks friendship (in my head) under the cut + a random x virus doodle

as for toby and jack specifically. toby is impulsive, aggressive, can't feel pain, and doesn't know what's good for him, so he's forced to get help from jack a good bit. for a long while there was hella tension between them since, again, jack isn't helping these guys out of the goodness of his heart. he's helping them bc the forest their boss resides in is the only place he's relatively safe. jack has a weird mix of a inferiority and superiority complex, since he envies toby's humanity but also feels like he's 'better' due to toby's own . . violent habits. toby thinks jack is pretty cool from the get-go ('wooow ur grey..') but he gets pissed off with jack's questions and demands of 'DONT RIP UR FUCKING STITCHES' and 'u have a concussion don't fucking scroll on your phone for 5 hours a day'.

toby has no idea if these demands come from actual concern or annoyance, and frankly, neither does jack. regardless, toby's with jack a decent bit. partially since jack makes a lot of people really uncomfortable so it's easy to go hang out with jack when he doesnt wanna deal with anyone else but still wants company. eventually theyre capable of some decent banter and conversations. theyre both mamas boys so thats a very weird touchy topic that they kinda dance around but both feel very deeply and know the other relates. THEY MISS THEIR MOMS SO BADLY.. :( mayhaps one year toby helps drop off flowers to jack's moms house for mothers day. jacks way too ashamed to even get within a 10 mile radius of his mom. that's kinda the moment things really shift between them and they actually become friends.

toby also asks abt university. lyra was at community college until she passed, and toby never considered college as an option, so he gets curious on what he missed out on. he also likes to share stuff abt lyra and their old shenanigans. tim and brian have used his childhood against him multiple times before, and it's not like he's gonna trust ben or jeff with that information. jacks sort of like a void he could talk into. jack feels uneasy talking about his life before the sacrifice, since he misses it so unbelievably bad, but toby accidentally got him to talk about it while treating a burn before.

ok and to top this fucking essay off heres xvirus. i had no idea he existed until this year and someone sent me an ask about his updated design, so he's some scribbles for him :9 his concepts super cool tho so maybe ill get more into him later on

[cherry-blossom-20]

hey! i have a request for rafe x reader! i was thinking of enemies to lovers with rafe but with john b’s sister. like rafe isn’t that bad like in the show but he still has some problems, but then he’ll grow a soft spot for the reader. ofc only if you’re willing to write this.

I have always heard the rumors about Rafe Cameron – the bad boy from Outer Banks with the reputation that preceded him. Fighting, drinking, drugs, you name it. My brother John B, and my other friends, JJ, Pope, Kiara, and Rafes very own sister Sarah, all seem to have a history with him, one filled with tension, and animosity. I have never had a bad interaction with Rafe, but I chose my brother's side in the feud, listening to the rumors and avoiding Rafe at all costs. 

JJ's mischievous grin lit up his face. "Hey, guys, have you heard about the boneyard party happening tonight? It's gonna be epic!"

Pope raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “I dont know guys, I have to work in the morning with my dad and if I dont show up again, I think he might actually kill me. “

Kiara, up for an adventure, leaned in eagerly. "Come on, Pope, where's your sense of fun? It's just a party! Count me in."

Sarah, usually the voice of reason in the group, bit her lip, torn between caution and curiosity. "I don't know, guys. What if something goes wrong? I know Rafe and the rest of the Kook possy are going."

John B, the leader, chimed in with a grin. "Aw, don't be such a buzzkill, Sarah. We can handle anything that comes our way. Let's make tonight legendary!"

feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension, I hesitated before finally nodding. "Okay, let's go. But we stick together, no matter what, deal?"

The group exchanged determined nods, a sense of camaraderie and adventure binding them together. And as we made our way out of the chateu, the promise of the boneyard party looming ahead.

The night air was cool and salty as we made out way through the darkened beach towards the party. The distant sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to our journey, adding an ambiance to the scene full of Pogues, Kooks and Tourons. 

As we approached the flickering bonfire at the heart of the party, shadows danced around the sandy clearing, casting strange shapes on the worn-out boats and debris scattered around. The glow of the fire illuminated the faces of the partygoers, their laughter mingling with the crackle of flames.

I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as we stepped into the heart of the boneyard party, the air thick with anticipation and mystery. Sarah clutched her arm, a silent gesture of support, while Kiara and Pope exchanged curious glances, taking in the scene with a mix of awe and wariness.

JJ, always the first to dive into the unknown, let out a low whistle. "This place is wild, I love it!" His voice carried over the sounds of the party, drawing the attention of a few revelers who nodded in agreement.

John B, the protector, threw his arm over my shoulder while scanning the crowd with a watchful eye, ensuring that they stayed close together amidst the throng of people. "Let's stick together, guys. I dont want anything happening to anyone" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the party.

As we weaved through the crowd at the boneyard party, my eyes scanning the faces illuminated by the flickering bonfire, a familiar figure caught my attention. Rafe Cameron stood at the edge of the firelight, his posture relaxed yet commanding, a hint of mystery in his gaze as he surveyed the party.

Kiara nudged me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look who decided to show up," she whispered, nodding towards Rafe. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in my chest.

As we continued to move through the party, another familiar face came into view. Kielce, Rafe's best friend, stood nearby, his easy smile contrasting with Rafe's more enigmatic presence. The dynamic duo seemed to exude an aura of confidence and danger that drew the attention of the partygoers around them.

Pope's jaw clenched at the sight of Rafe, a hint of tension in his stance as he exchanged a wary glance with JJ. "Those Kooks are always up to no good," Pope muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with unease.

And just as we were about to turn away and walk in a different direction, a voice cut through the chatter of the party. "Well, well, well, looks like some Pogues decided to crash our little shindig." Topper, Rafe's friend, swaggered towards them with a smirk, his presence casting a shadow over the group.

My heart raced as the tension in the air thickened, the unexpected reunion with Rafe, Kielce, and Topper adding a new layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere of the boneyard party. 

I met Rafe's gaze, his piercing blue eyes looking right into mine. My voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "We're just here to have a good time, same as everyone else."

John B stepped forward pushing me behind him, his protective instincts kicking in. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us enjoy the party."

Rafe's expression softened slightly as he glanced at me. "I'm not here to cause problems either. Just trying to have a good time with my friends."

JJ eyed the Kooks warily, while blowing out a puff of smoke from the blunt he just lit, his voice cautious. "You guys have a habit of stirring up trouble wherever you go. We'd rather avoid any drama tonight."

Kiara, always one to diffuse tension with humor, flashed a grin at Topper. "Come on, Topper, can't we all just get along for one night? It's a party, after all."

Sarah, sensing the underlying tension, spoke up softly. "Let's just enjoy the night and try to stay out of each other's way. No need for things to escalate."

As we walked away from the conversation with Rafe, Kelce, and Topper, the air crackled with unspoken tension. We found a spot closer to the beach and settled down, the sound of waves a comforting backdrop.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling Rafe's intense gaze on her. The rest of the group noticed, their expressions darkening. John B, clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Rafe needs to back off," Kiara muttered, her voice low but firm.

"Yeah, whats his problem now?l," Jj added, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

Sarah sighed. "Let's just enjoy our time here. Ignore him. We won't let him ruin it for us."

We huddled closer, our laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean, a shield against the unwelcome presence of Rafe.

We lounged along the beach, the sound of crashing waves mingling with our laughter and banter. Empty cups that were full of beer on the ground and the blunt JJ lit up is passed around as we enjoyed the salty breeze and the warmth of the setting sun.

As the evening settled in, I felt a sudden thirst creeping up, I looked in my cup noticing it was empty. Standing up, brushing sand off my shorts, "I'm gonna grab a drink. I'll be right back."

John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah all looked up, concern flickering in their eyes.

John B offered, "I'll come with you." starting to stand up from his place in the sand.

Kiara chimed in, "Yeah, we can all go together."

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "It's okay, guys. I'll just be quick. Stay here, ill be right back."

With a chorus of "Be careful" and "Don't take too long," the group watched as I made my way towards the Keg, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow around me. They settled back into their circle, keeping an eye on my retreating figure as I disappeared into the crowd.

As I waited at the keg, a drunk guy approached me, his slurred words and wandering hands making my skin crawl.

"Hey, beautiful, why are you alone?" one of them slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol.

My discomfort grew as I tried to push him away. "I'm not interested. Please leave me alone."

But the guy persisted, his grip tightening on my arm. Panic rising, I looked over to friends, but they were engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to my distress.

Just when I felt trapped, Rafe appeared beside me, his presence commanding. Without a word, he pushed the guy away, his expression fierce. The drunk guy stumbled back, surprised by the sudden intervention.

"Back off, man," Rafe growled, his voice low and menacing.

I felt a surge of relief as Rafe stood protectively by her side, his actions speaking louder than words. 

Drunk Man: "Hey, dude, what's your problem? She was just having some fun."

Rafe: "Fun? Putting your hands on someone without their consent is not fun. Leave her alone."

Drunk Man: *laughs* "Who do you think you are, man? She's fair game at a place like this."

Rafe: *steps closer, his jaw clenched* "No one is 'fair game.' You need to learn some respect."

Drunk Man: *backs off slightly, sensing Rafe's intensity* "Fine, man, whatever. She's not worth the trouble."

Rafe: *fixes him with a steely gaze* "Remember this. No means no. Don't let me catch you bothering anyone else tonight, or Ill escourt you off the beach myself. Youre lucky I havent done it already."

The drunk man mumbles something unintelligible and stumbles away, leaving me alone with Rafe, grateful for Rafe's intervention. As the tension dissipates, I turn to him with a mix of relief and gratitude.

Y/N: "Thank you, Rafe. I really appreciate it."

Rafe: *offers a reassuring smile* "No problem. Just looking out for you."

Y/N: “Well im gonna head back before John B starts to worry, thanks again.”

As I started to make my way back from the Keg, a familiar figure fell into step beside her. Rafe's presence was unexpected but not unwelcome, his protective aura a comforting shield against the bustling crowd.

"I can walk you back to your friends," Rafe offered, his tone gentle yet firm.

I nodded gratefully, appreciating the gesture. As we approached the Pogues, I sensed the tension radiating from John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah. Their expressions hardened as they watched Rafe by my side.

John B's voice was sharp with concern as he demanded, "What's going on here?"

Rafe stepped forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "There was a situation at the keg. I just wanted to make sure she got back safely." 

I quickly explained, "He helped me when a drunk guy wouldn't leave me alone. Rafe intervened, and I'm okay."

John B's anger softened into gratitude as he turned to Rafe, his voice sincere. "Thanks for looking out for her. We appreciate it."

The tension ebbed away as they realized Rafe's intentions were genuine. I felt a sense of relief as the Pogues thanked Rafe, without any issues. Rafe bid his goodbyes and walked back over to his group. 

As the night drew to a close, we started to gather our belongings, heading toward the twinkie ready to head home. As I was getting in the van, Rafe approached, a nervous look in his eyes.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" Rafe asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Curious, I nodded and followed Rafe a few steps away from the group. The others exchanged knowing glances, a spark of anticipation in the air.

Rafe took a deep breath before blurting out, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime?"

My surprise melted into a warm smile as I met Rafe's gaze. The night had been filled with unexpected twists, but this invitation felt like the perfect ending.

"I'd love to," I replied, my voice soft but filled with genuine interest.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed it! this is my first time writing anything like this.

and to the lovely person who requested this, I hope I meet your expectations!

[thisismeracing]

Mick Schumacher NSFW Alphabet

warnings: +18; mentions of sex, praising and size kink, dirty talk, choking, and public sex; sex (p in v, oral); she/her!reader; minors DNI!

A — Aftercare (what he is like after sex)

I made a whole headcanon on this topic (here), but Mick is great when it comes to aftercare. He will tell you how good it was, get you water and snacks afterward, and will draw you a bath if you feel like it. If you opt for a shower he will wash your hair, and when you are ready for bed he'll cuddle you.

B — Body part (his favorite body part)

Mick is a boob guy, so he's obsessed with your boobs, and it doesn't matter if you think they're too small, too big, or too average, he loves it anyway, and makes a point of lying on them when you cuddle. He loves to slip his hands inside your shirt and play with your nipples or just simply hold your boobs, it's comforting.

C — Cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Since his favorite body part of yours are your boobs, he just loves to cum on it too, though he finds it hard to decide if he likes it better when he cums on your boobs or in your mouth.

D — Dirty secret (his dirty secret)

He wants to try making a sex tape with you someday, he keeps the suggestive pictures and Polaroids you give/send him, but they can only do so much when you’re away from the other.

E — Experience (how experienced is he?)

He does not have much experience (haven't had that many partners before you), but he knows what he's doing, and he is eager to learn what works best for you, and what you do to him that makes him tremble.

F — Favorite position (sex position)

Cowboy. Mick loves it when you're on top, his hands are free to roam around your body, you can watch each other cum, and he still has some level of dominance because he can thrust up easily (thanks to all his gym training).

G — Goofy (Is he serious, or humorous, how he acts in the moment?)

He's a middle term between serious and humorous, but mostly serious. Mick can switch easily between the cute guy and the dominant lover, and so in bed, it's always a mix, one second you say something he finds particularly funny, and you're laughing, the other your laughter is turning into screams, and moans because he used your distraction to circle your clit or thrust his way inside again.

H — Hair (how groomed is he?)

He's really groomed down there, and he shaves regularly, he's attentive with his intimate area just like he is with his face, chest, and armpits. He prefers it that way for him, but he doesn't mind if you're hairy or whatever.

I — Intimacy (how passionate is he?)

VERY. Mick doesn't like half-assed things, so he will make you cum, and he will praise you and your body. And though he loves it when you guys have quickies or just fuck hard, he finds comfort when you make slow sex, it's intimate, but it can still be dirty sometimes, and the orgasm hit just as hard if not harder.

J — Jack off (how often he masturbates)

He tries to keep it down when you spend days apart, just because he thinks it builds up to the moment you're finally together, but sometimes it's hard not to masturbate, especially when you keep sending him dirty messages and suggestive pics. He probably does it once or twice during race week when you're not together, but if you're with him, you will probably just have sex instead because usually your timing and his match.

K — Kink (one or more)

Mick has a praising kink. He just loves it when you tell him how good he's making you feel, how big he is, and so on. He likes to do it for you too. He's a dirty talker, so you can bet he's vocal about how you feel, how wet you are, how your noises make him feel, and how much he has been waiting to fuck you. Mick most likely has a bit of a size kink too, he's not the biggest guy, but he's broad, and he loves how he looks beside you, and how some parts of your body are engulfed by his (headcanon here).

L — Location (favorite places to do it)

Anywhere inside your house is a go-to, but nothing can compare to the comfort of your/his room, you have a nice bed, and you have mirrors around, and it's private enough that you can moan and scream without being afraid of people barging in or interrupting.

M — Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

Anything you do, honestly. It's not that hard to get Mick turned on, but it's quicker when you're flirting with him. During sex, he gets more motivated when you praise him or get vocal -especially if you moan his name.

N — No (something he would NOT do)

Mick's open to trying a bunch of things with you, but he won't try anything that can hurt you (so no hot wax, no toys that give chocks, or spanking instruments -his hands are enough!). Mick also doesn't like hardcore humiliation, sure you guys will play around and he will call you a slut/brat here and there, but nothing more than this.

O — Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, and so on)

He knows his way around your body, and he knows how to use his tongue and fingers, so his skills are enough to make you cum faster than a song can come and go. Mick doesn't have preferences though, he can't really decide if he likes giving or receiving more, but just because he takes pleasure in giving pleasure, so he always gets hard when he has his face between your legs, and he feels powerful to make you come only using his fingers/tongue.

P — Pace (fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Slow and sensual. He just loves to watch all your reactions and prolong the moment as far as he can.

Q — Quickie (his opinion on it + how often they happen)

He likes it, and it happens often, although Mick prefers to have "proper" sex at home. Sometimes it's just what he needs before a meeting or race, or when you're at a party and you keep teasing him.

R — Risks (is he willing to experiment, does he take risks, etc)

Mick is a fairly open-minded guy, so as long as it's not something dangerous, and you're into it, he wouldn't mind trying and taking the risks - that mindset made you guys have a quickie in the bathroom during a family gathering btw. He prefers to play it safe, but sometimes it's just too tempting.

S — Stamina (how many rounds can he go? How long does he last?)

He's a professional athlete, so his body is trained to endure a lot, and have the energy to go on and about, which means he can go for how many rounds you want to (especially because he usually likes to use his fingers and tongue too). Most of the time, you guys will go two or three times the same night, but it all depends on the day. During race week, for example, it's just one round. Mick lasts long enough to make you cum, he likes to wait for you.

T — Toys (does he use/own any?)

He likes to use your vibrators on you, and he doesn't mind when you use them on him. He doesn't own any though.

U — Unfair (how much does he tease?)

He usually teases you more during sex than before sex, that is because he usually can’t handle your teasings, therefore he makes a point of not teasing you too much because there’s always a comeback. Before sex his teasings consist in looking you up and down, staring at your ass without people noticing, displaying his fingers in a way he knows will drive you crazy and sometimes, when he’s feeling bold, he’s gonna whisper dirty things in your ears.

V — Volume (how loud is he + what noises does he make?)

Mick usually groans and grunts a lot, he likes to moan lowly in your ear too. If you're alone, he's loud and vocal, but if you're somewhere else and there are people in the next room he can keep quiet just grunting on your neck.

W — Wild card (random headcanon for him)

Mick is a switch so he likes to be ordered around every once in a while, he finds it hot and he likes the idea of you using his body to your own pleasure. During those times he goes feral when you try to choke him. And he will most likely curse and dirty talk to you in german.

X — X-ray (what’s under his clothes?)

He has length and girth, Mick's packed and he knows it. He's a bit bigger than the average, but nothing too big to make the experience uncomfortable.

Y — Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

It’s high. Mick is a lover by nature so he is ready to go most of the times, you just gotta say the words and he will make you feel good.

Z — Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterward)

It depends on the day. Mick likes to wait for you to fall asleep before he does, so it takes some long minutes, but sometimes during race week, he's asleep in the blink of an eye because of how tiring the routine can be.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @saintslewis @shhhchriss @f1kota

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Don't hesitate to reach out to me, I promise you I don't bite hahaha 🪩💖🍄

[kaelidascope]

Fandom and LGBTQ Hostility and My Experiences Trying to Exist in Both Spaces Online

I came into these spaces with a very strict rule that I would not react or do anything cancel-worthy out of an overabundance of caution. Digital footprints are dangerous. The things you say online will follow you around forever. I know that first hand. I’ve bottled up and stayed silent about a lot of things I’ve either witnessed first-hand or experienced because I was trying to maintain a clean online persona. I’m not an ‘airing out dirty laundry’ type person. 

In light of recent events however, it’s gotten so bad that I can no longer sit here and not say something about how I feel. I’m disappointed and frustrated with the experiences I’ve had both in fandom and LGBTQ+ spaces and I can’t be complacent. I’m tired of getting treated like this, I’m fed up and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I feel it’s important I voice what I’ve been watching and what’s happened and how I’m not going to tolerate it anymore by calling it out first hand. 

This is a two-topic rant. They overlap in some instances, but it directly has to do with how fandoms behave in general towards each other on Twitter and Tumblr, and also how absolutely hostile LGBTQ+ individuals are nowadays to each other on the same platforms. 

I come from a different generation and a different social media platform. I wasn’t on Twitter and Tumblr until last year. I’m not dismissing the fact that I may have missed out on decades worth of culture and social expectation. The places where I come from aren’t exactly fantastic either, but at least here, more queer people are interacting with each other with shared interests much more widely than in places like DeviantArt. The amount of culture and information I’ve absorbed in one year is more than I ever had within the past twenty years. It should be a good thing, and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t. 

This is not the way I wanted to come out online to anyone. I’ve been figuring out where I sit on the gender and sexuality spectrum for a while now. I will not document a specific timeline for anyone because that’s nobody’s business but my own. Within the last year, I took a massive stride forward in exploring things I legally didn’t think I was allowed to. I expected backlash from cishets and the usual thing I see LGBTQ+ folks write essays over, about how the world hates us, but at least we have each other. Shockingly, the backlash didn’t come from straight people. It came from other queers. 

I am 27 years old and I am entirely self-sufficient. I’m mixed Puerto Rican living in a red state. English wasn’t even my first language. I don’t have a network, so I’m teaching myself these things. I'm asking questions. I'm reading materials and expressions of self-experience and self-identity through fanworks and other autobiographical content. I'm actively trying to seek community and support through transgender and non-binary individuals with shared interests and so far all I've been met with is hostility and assumptions. So much so that I've now been made to feel like I'm on a timeline to figure it out so I can have a well-practiced, short introduction to copy and paste to every person who comes across me. And the only reason I even need one is so that they can make the decision to pass judgement over whether or not I'm allowed to speak, write, draw, wear, act, breathe the things I do. I'm disappointed. I'm anxious. I honestly feel more shoved into the closet now than I ever did before and I shouldn't be. Nobody should be treated this way when trying to figure out who they are. I probably won't even get an apology for the things that were said to me, either. I pride myself on the extraordinary caution I take to be politically correct, vetted through reputable sources, and as close to authentic as possible. And yet somehow I’m still getting called things like terf, transmisogynistic, triggering, when I’m fucking trans myself and all of my content gets vetted/REQUESTED by trans individuals. I get promised up and down that people are kind and welcoming in these sorts of spaces and honey, they aren’t. The people you choose to be friends with aren't as inclusive and friendly as you think they are. You don’t even know me and what body parts I have. The fact that you need to know in order to decide whether or not to treat me with respect is telling of an internal issue that has nothing to do with me. 

I have no reference point. I live in a place where laws ban anything gender and trans. I have no local resources or community. I've barely met any LGBTQ people in person. If I have, they never came out publicly. Most of my queer exposure has been online, and the fact that I've seen nothing but angry, mean, exclusive and discriminating behavior without any sort of reasoning why other than selfish defensiveness, I don't know where else I'm supposed to go for support. Something a lot of you guys need to take into retrospect is anyone who identifies as LGBTQ gets shot where I live. We have sundown towns here. If you don’t even know what that is, good, but also that’s telling of your privilege that you need to consider when talking to others not from blue states. I didn’t grow up in an environment where we had these highly liberal culture points and the word ‘gay’ was never allowed to be said out loud. We did not have gay clubs in school. I'm about as fucking late to this as you possibly can get. The only reason I know anything about our history, representation, and barely anything about what's socially acceptable and what's not, is because of the internet. So many of you had the privilege of being exposed to this information as young as under the age of 10. I didn’t. Sue me for not immediately knowing what every gender label means right off the bat. Half that stuff isn’t even legal here. 

I can't believe it's boiled down to the fact that I have to somehow justify my existence on this Earth and give an explanation that fits into predetermined boxes just to do anything to engage with other people. I have no time or space to figure it out. I’m disorganized and overwhelmed because I can’t ask questions about ‘can butches do this?’ ‘How versatile is transmasc/transfem?’ ‘Am I more genderqueer or do I fit under the trans umbrella?’ Gender and identity is fluid and ever changing. I have actually seen people harp and attack individuals for "defaulting" or "detransitioning" when they change their mind after giving this big coming out speech. It’s like support on these platforms is entirely conditional and a one-time thing. Y'all really expect people to wear the first style of shirt they buy for the rest of their life? Are we not allowed to do anything unless we know for sure? How’s college working out for you, for those who believe this mindset?

The vocally aggressive ones who use big words that contradict their statements can do, say, and be whatever they want.  But people like me can't. The ones who have to straight pass in public to keep their jobs and maintain their life safely. Some of us have been on our own since 19 with no family support. Consider the environment someone lives in before assigning your harsh assumptions. I can’t just change myself on a whim without doing significant damage control. Half the jobs I work for don’t even allow unnatural hair colors. If we list our pronouns as anything other than our assigned sex at birth, it causes legality issues with taxes. The way I have to navigate how to explore my identity and also keep a roof over my head and my bills paid may seem highly conservative to most. It’s in no way shape or form meant to reflect disrespect on how others live and express themselves. I am doing the best with the environment I have. The way I do things is not meant to be read as a message of ‘you’re doing it wrong because you’re not doing it the way I do.’ None of us are wrong. That should not be the subliminal message here. 

You know someone actually challenged me on that? Saying I was being harmful for purposefully straight presenting in public? Please research your country and state specific laws before you say that to me. If I could afford to live somewhere safer and queer-friendly, this conversation would be different. I am working on getting the fuck out of this state. But I don’t have a partner or parents money to default on. I’m doing this by myself. It’s not impossible, just a slow process. 

I'm disappointed and fed up. I've reached my limit, and I don't really care anymore if someone uses this essay to try and cancel me 5 or 10 years from now when the world goes through another gender renaissance of terms and identities. I will not put up with being treated like this when you refuse to listen to anyone else other than the sound of your own voice. I’m trying my best to learn, adapt, and express myself. I do not need to be lectured or be called derogatory things just because you think I’m coming from a malicious place.  

It’s not just about the hostility and gate-keeping behavior exhibited in online queer spaces. The same exact thing happens in fandom spaces too. People get pissy about queer headcanons and presentations so much to the point of taking it upon themselves to police the fandom and scrub it clean of “impurities.” I’ve watched y’all go through people's social media pages for any type of ammunition for justification of a personal grievance. It shocks me how much hyperfixation gets put on specific and morally harmless things when there are people out there writing diabolical shit way worse than what I have to offer. And y’all happily support them too but bark at me about what I make cus that author fits your social criteria and you assumed I didn’t. Don't think I'm ignorant to every single scrap of hate mail and harassment I've gotten over the past year and a half in my inboxes. Including the passive aggressive posts about my work, vague tweets, and discussions about me in discord servers. Over what? Have you actually read my work? If it’s actually as problematic as you say it is, provide me with a modern and unbiased example why this particular scene and execution is harmful. And not because you got triggered or disliked the kink, or read the summary/tags and assumed it was something it’s not. I don’t know how much more caution tape, massive warnings, obvious clear-cut tags (that were provided to me by queer individuals to PUT on there in the first place) out of insane amounts of caution I can do. I have always been willing to provide spoilers and explicit details in case someone is unsure how they’ll be affected by something I make. If you already don’t like it based on my warnings, that’s always been more than okay! My work is not for everyone. I’m getting tired of politely and respectfully saying please move on, because the message seems to be getting lost in translation. So let me be clear; 

Get off my pages if you don’t like what I make. It’s not for you. It will never be for you. Dead dove. DO NOT EAT. PREFERRED DEMOGRAPHIC 25+ ADULT CONTENT RATED E FOR EXPLICIT. I can recommend so many other fantastic creators with better suited content for you! If I could hide my content behind a roped off section deliberately keeping you from seeing it, I would. BLOCK ME. 

If your response to this section is ‘well then just don’t write it’. Honey, there’s people out here in the RWBY fandom writing trans incest actively commenting on all your shit and you respond back. A magic grimm-goo strap and monster smut featuring a transfem character (again, requested by literally 3 trans people and WRITTEN by one) should be the least of your worries. 

I have actively chosen not to address the harassment and hate mail, because it's sad that half of you hate me so much you need to make a point of telling me so regularly. I sincerely hope moving on with your lives will grant you peace of mind. Truly.

This is why I barely interact with anyone. Nothing but hostility, harassment, and expectation to behave in ways I cannot emotionally commit to. I am exhausted, uninspired, and have such a bad taste in my mouth it's proving extremely difficult to want to do anything creative. It’s been worse with my recent exploration of my gender identity. Opening one door to write about certain things somehow, miraculously, closes ones I previously existed in. I’m practically getting kicked out if I’m not 100% one way or another. I don’t go out of my way to shove my content down your throats. Why you feel the need to come to me and tell me you dislike my existence because you read it, despite me stating this is not for everyone and probably not for you, doesn’t have anything to do with me. Idk what else I can do. Disappear off the face of the planet, I guess. That seems to be what the overall solution is when y’all find something you don’t like. I can't believe I witnessed grown adults in their mid twenties with self-proclaimed senses of rightness start a trend on Twitter to go through people's mutuals and their likes to see if they’re socially acceptable in Fandom spaces or not. That was fucking ridiculous. And especially not fair to those who had their private accounts leaked and put on blast when it was already behind an vetted follower wall. Believe it or not, people draw weird, lewd, diabolical shit. They’re actually being responsible by putting it behind a paywall, or some type of ‘proof of age before following’ requirement. It falls on the people who go on there, take screenshots, and post them publicly for minors and non-consenting individuals to see without filters what was previously hidden. It’s irresponsible and immature. 

For fear of getting canceled by the Fandom, I moved all 600+ accounts I was following onto a private alt. I don't interact with my main anymore. I went so far into hiding and didn’t dare share anything about liking content made by people I wasn’t allowed to like, because that’s how cruel it is out here. It's honestly stupid I even felt like I had to do that. For what? People glazed over the brief moment of drama within a few weeks and went right back to posting the same shit they always have. They find new things to gossip about on their privs. New enemies to cancel on Twitter. New things to deem problematic and attack. 

I will be heard with this letter. I don’t care to be associated with anyone who treats people like this. I don’t believe in it, I won’t support it, and I’d rather have a small circle of people who won’t be rude or attack other people for existing. I’m not going to sit here and take the abuse any longer. Leave me in peace. There is no reason any of this should be happening. 

This is not meant to undermine the support I have gotten from the few who know what I'm going through and have given me the space to figure it out. I appreciate every question answered and insight provided as much as your abilities allow. I'm so grateful for it. I just wish it wasn't 2 people while everyone else is an asshole.

[peachy-posy]

Counting Steps (Vash the Stampede x Reader)

Summary: While traveling with Vash, you get a wound and decide to hide it from him.

A/N: Howdy! This is my first Trigun fic, please be nice hehe. This was originally written with Tri Stamp Vash in mind, but then it turned into me mixing him with 98 Vash, and so now we have this.

I'm considering making a little series about the reader and Vash because I am so whipped for this silly blonde man, the brain rot is insane. If that's something you'd be interested in lmk!

I hope you guys like it <3 ALSO this was cross-posted to my AO3

Warnings: Mild violence, mild blood/injury, fainting

Word Count: 2.5k

This was inspired by this quote from @creativepromptsforwriting: “When were you going to tell me you were bleeding? When you’re already dead?!”

98. 99. That’s another 100 steps. Start over.

You grit your teeth, clutching your side fiercely. Luckily, you are wearing black, so Vash hadn’t seen the sticky, dark stain appear. Your faithful traveling companion walks several paces ahead of you, leading the two of you to a nearby settlement. You couldn’t be that far away now, right? God, you hope not. 

You lose your footing, stumbling briefly before catching yourself. White hot pain shoots through your abdomen, and you can’t stop the hiss that slides out between your teeth. Fortunately, Vash doesn’t seem to be able to hear it over the sounds of the wind. A bead of sweat rolls down your face, and you pause, allowing yourself to pant for a moment. Not for long, though. You have to keep moving.

Counting your steps in increments of 100 has been your method of keeping yourself focused. It was a simple task, something to devote all of yourself to for the time being. If you could keep going, one step at a time, you knew you could make it to the town. 

17. 18. 19. That’s another 20.

Your mind wanders to the very situation that caused you to get an injury in the first place. What a mess today has been. 

You have been traveling with the infamous Vash the Stampede for months at this point. Shootouts and run-ins with bandits and bounty hunters made for another Tuesday. Usually, that was no problem for you guys. You knew your way around a gun and could certainly hold your own, so what the fuck happened today?

30. 31. 32.

The two of you had stopped at a small plant you’d come across while traveling in the desert, thinking it was a good chance to take a breather. Little did you know, you were walking right into a stick-up, with a small group of bandits robbing a family that had stopped there as well. You and Vash stepped in quickly to help, easily incapacitating the bandits. Vash’s attention readily became focused on helping out the family, noticing that the oldest child had gotten a gash on the head.

Allowing Vash to handle the damage control inside, you had stepped back outside to catch your breath. You walked over to the side of the building, leaning against it and resting in the shadow it produced. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw movement. Apparently, there was another person involved that had slipped away. You sprung into action, running around the building to where you’d seen the figure disappear. After that, everything happened really fast.

The man was quick, and he lunged at you with startling speed. You were able to dodge the initial thrust of his knife towards your gut, but you didn’t sidestep fast enough, feeling the blade tear a gash into your side. The adrenaline in your system helped you to ignore the pain, and you whipped around, kicking the knife out of his hand and twisting his arm behind his back. Before he knew it, you had him pinned on the ground, arms pulled uncomfortably behind his back. Drawing your small revolver from its holster, you swiftly hit the back of his head with the grip, feeling his body go limp under you. 

After he passed out, the tension left your body and you leaned back with a sigh. It was at this point that you started to feel the sharp, stinging pain radiating from your side. Glancing down with a wince, you moved your jacket aside, laying your eyes on the gash that had been so generously given to you by your friend here. Because you wore your jacket open, it looked like it had blown out of the way and been spared by the blade. So, at the very least, you wouldn’t be spending the evening sewing the jacket up. Your body was a different story, unfortunately.

It was a small, but deep, clean cut. It wasn’t anything worse than what you’ve had before. But, it would definitely need some stitches. You were almost positive you could patch this up with the first aid kit inside. 

You released your jacket, heaving yourself off the ground with some effort, applying pressure to the wound. Once on your feet, you made your way back around front, finding the entrance to the small building. 

Vash was crouched, chatting to the teary-eyed children, calming them down with a practiced ease that came from many years of experience around kids. He smiled at them, and said something that drew a giggle from the children. Their parents watched from nearby with grateful smiles, eventually pulling him into a conversation with them as well. A soft smile formed on your lips, as it often did when you saw him have these types of interactions. 

Your pain brought you back down to reality though, and you grimaced. Your eyes scanned the room for the first aid kit, and you found it lying on a small table. You quietly walked over, and immediately grabbed some gauze to hold against the wound. You sifted through the contents, searching for the thread, knowing you definitely had some. It wasn’t until you remembered that one of the kids had gotten a cut to the head that you turned around, seeing the last of your thread stitched up in a wound already. Vash might be holding onto some more, but even if he were, it likely wouldn’t be enough. 

Well. Shit.

You faced away from everyone again, trying to think of what to do. You were less than half a day’s walk from the next town. You didn’t have any supplies other than some gauze that would help. Telling Vash would worry him, and he’d definitely want to carry you the rest of the way, even though you knew his prosthetic had been causing him soreness recently. 

You were just gonna have to suck it up and walk. You stuffed gauze into your pockets as discreetly as you could, before hearing your name called from behind you softly. You turned your head to the side, heart skipping a beat at seeing those gorgeous blue eyes gazing at you.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over it, not wanting him to worry about anything. 

Instead, you gave him a convincing smile. “Yeah. I found another guy outside. We should probably tie him up with the others before leaving.” The person running the plant assured you both that they would be fine while they waited for authorities to arrive to take the men away. You made sure your body was angled to where he couldn’t see your bloody hand or the gauze. 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised to have missed one, but ultimately nodded, letting you know he’d take care of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mayfly. I’m getting sloppy!” he joked, and you’d giggled in reply, heart fluttering every time he called that. It was just friendly, of course. Because that’s all you were - friends.

That’s another 60 steps. Or was it 70?

You jam your eyes shut, breathing through the worsening pain. You sigh defeatedly. You ran out of gauze an hour ago. The bleeding has slowed, but not fully stopped. Not with all of the pulling from walking. At least the sun is starting to go down, giving you a break from this damned heat. 

You look up, seeing Vash’s back ahead, his red coat blowing gently in the wind. The distance is getting greater between the two of you. You’re starting to regret not filling him in about your situation. After noticing your silence not long into the walk, he’d asked once more if everything was all right. You smiled, told him you were fine, and that you’d tell him later tonight. He accepted that begrudgingly, giving you a Look, but had ultimately given you space.

You stop walking, your breathing uneven and heavy. Your vision wasn’t quite right either… had you really lost that much blood? The chill settling into your bones screams ‘yes’ at you. Vash is getting too far away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel your body trembling, and you close your eyes, a dull ringing in your ears beginning. Your grip on the gauze pressed into your side is getting looser, but you’re starting to care less. It’s not like it’s working anyway.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the feeling of hands gripping your upper arms. You gasp, opening your eyes, struggling to get them to focus for a moment. Once they do, you see Vash in front of you. His mouth is moving, and he looks worried. Oh. They’re his hands, you note, glancing at his arms. 

The ringing in your ears subsides enough that you can hear his voice again. He’s calling your name.

“…you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, searching your eyes.

“Huh?” You manage eloquently.

He sighs, closing his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of you. “You’ll be the death of me, Mayfly. What’s wrong?” He asks. “I know you said you’d tell me later, and, well, it’s technically later now, so…” he trails off, but his words have an expectant tone to them. This doesn’t really seem to be something he wants to budge on.

Not that you’re planning on withholding what’s happening at this point. You are almost certain you’ll pass out here soon. 

“Um…” you start, averting your gaze. Finally, he seems to notice the way you’re holding yourself. Specifically, the placement of your arm, tucked into your jacket. His expression shifts into something more knowing, and he seems to have caught on. 

He gently reaches down to pull your hand away so he can take a look, but as he does so, your knees buckle and you start a hard fall to the sandy ground. You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact that never comes, as you are wrapped up in a pair of strong arms before falling very far.

You are slowly lowered the rest of the way, and find yourself resting against Vash’s chest on the ground. He’s muttering something under his breath, and you’re murmuring an apology. He pulls your jacket back, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees the bloodied gauze.

“When were you going to tell me you’re bleeding? Once you were already dead?!” He asks, and yeah, you probably deserve that. He’s peeling back the gauze gingerly, scrutinizing the wound, concern etched into his gorgeous face. He’s talking, likely scolding you, but that annoying ringing in your ears is back, so you can’t hear him. You should not be thinking about how pretty he looks right now, but your vision is turning black and you don’t really care anymore. His head turns to face you, his eyes widening. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite identify.

 But everything feels heavy, and you are very tired. You slump into his chest, closing your eyes. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next thing you know, you are lying in an uncomfortable bed, tucked into itchy, white sheets. You groan, taking in how dry your mouth is and how bad your side hurts. 

Oh yeah.

You open your eyes, sitting up with a gasp. You blink hard to clear your vision, but curl into yourself as pain shoots through your abdomen. You feel a set of familiar hands take you by the shoulders.

“Woah! Take it easy! Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You feel one of the hands move from your shoulder to rub your back soothingly, and you look up. Those beautiful blue eyes meet yours, relief flooding his features. Vash murmurs your name with a relieved smile.

“There you are. Are you okay?” He asks softly, gently pushing you to lay back down. You put up no resistance.

“Yeah, just a bit sore,” you manage, glancing down to your wound. You move your hand to touch it, applying pressure experimentally, but he moves your hand away, holding onto it instead. Like a worried friend, you remind yourself. You take a moment to glance around the clinical-looking room, and think you already know the answer, but ask anyway. “Where are we?”

His thumb moves slowly across your knuckles, just like a friend would do. In a friendly way. “The local clinic. We weren’t very far out of town when you passed out. I just brought you here right away. That was last night.” His expression shifts from soft to scolding, and he runs his other hand through his blonde hair. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that again!”

You offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Vash. We’d used the last of the thread for stitches on one of the children, and I thought I could tough it out.”

He stares at you, and you wilt a bit at his hurt expression. “Why wouldn’t you tell me though? We may not have been able to stitch you up right away, but I could have-“

“Carried me into town?” You finish, and he nods. You reach up, gingerly touching his prosthetic arm. His eyes widen slightly, not expecting your touch. “I know your arm has been bothering you lately, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

His expression softens endearingly once more at your reasoning, the look he’s giving you making you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Oh, Mayfly,” he murmurs, “let me decide what I can handle, okay? It wouldn’t have been so bad.”

You understand, but you also frown a bit at his words, raising an eyebrow at him. “But who looks after you? You have and would push yourself past every limit you have for the sake of someone else.” 

He sighs, but doesn’t deny what you say, either. “How about we work on compromising a bit? We’ll look after each other, and make sure we aren’t pushing ourselves too hard.”

You try to level him with a stare, but end up relenting with a sigh and a smile. “Fine.”

He smiles back at you, mirroring your tone. “Fine.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and it seems like something comes to his mind at that moment. His smile becomes something more like a smirk, and you regard him suspiciously. 

“What,” you deadpan, somewhat dreading whatever he has to say.

He props his elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands, leaning forward. 

“Nothing! I’m just flattered,” he replies, and you really, really don’t like the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“By…?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t know you thought I was pretty.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Of course you do. But you’d never just say that.

“Yeah, right.”

“No really! You said so yourself! Remember? Something like, ‘I should not be thinking about how pretty you look-’”

You choke, blushing furiously. Oh my god. Right before you passed out. You must’ve accidentally said that out loud, delirious.

 “I-I did not!” You sputter back, but you know it’s futile. He’s laughing too hard. You hate it, but even now, as he is laughing at you, you can’t help but love the sound of it. You’d do just about anything to keep him laughing and smiling like this.

He pokes your cheek, his laugh dying down. “For the record, I think you’re pretty too. ‘Specially when you’re blushing like this.”

Holy. Shit. 

Never mind. You wish you had bled out.