#I wanted to play with the fact he canonically likes “stupid” girls

[imagine-knb]

Could I pls request a scenario where Hanamiya is having a really shitty day, and then you walk into the classroom (new girl), and he just instantly just feels better. After that he tries to get to know her better. Thanks xx.

Lips curled into a sneer, Hanamiya leaned forward on his desk to rest his chin in his palm. With half-lidded, bored eyes he stared straight ahead at the blank chalkboard at the front of the class. The lesson wouldn’t be starting for another ten minutes, but he couldn’t find the energy to do much else but stare.

“Kentarou,” he drawled, glancing over to his teammate. Hanamiya clicked his tongue in distaste when he noted Seto snoring at his own desk, still deep in slumber.

He returned his attention back to the front of the classroom. Things had seemed so much duller since they’d dropped out of the Winter Cup preliminaries. His blood had boiled at their loss, but even the anger he once felt had faded away as he and his team returned to the day to day life at Kirisaki Daiichi. Now, nothing but boredom gripped his veins.

With an inaudible sigh, Hanamiya let his eyes wander over to the door at the front of the classroom. A group of students had just come in, smiling and laughing just a bit too loudly that morning for his liking. He had half a mind to growl at them, using his position on the disciplinary committee to tut out faux rules about disturbing the peace.

His eyes caught on to a somewhat familiar face – you, the transfer student who had arrived partway through the beginning of the semester. Hailing from another country, your Japanese was decent enough to allow you to study at the prestigious school. However, that didn’t stop you from having embarrassing blunders from time to time.

“____, my ani said he can take us to the movie theater in town today, if you’re free.”

As your friend was speaking, you sat down at your assigned seat two places in front of Hanamiya’s. It was close enough that he could still hear your confused response.

“O-oni?” You’d paled considerably, the thought that a demon would be escorting you through Japan filling your mind. “That’s not possible, right?”

It had your friend laughing at your mistake, quickly correcting you. At the realization that two completely different words had been said, you flushed pink in embarrassment. It had Hanamiya rolling his eyes. How easy it was to get you embarrassed. How stupid you were for making such an easy mistake.

He liked stupid.

Hanamiya snorted, the noise catching your attention. "Cute." In a pathetic and idiotic sort of way.

You heard the quick comment, glancing over to the black-haired genius as a dusting of color invaded your cheeks. You had taken it as a compliment, smiling at him warmly.

"Kawaii?" you asked, voice low in a shy whisper. “Thank you.”

Hanamiya leaned forward in his desk, placing his chin in his palm and hiding the smirk on his face behind his fingers. The smaller proximity between the two of you had the color on your cheeks darkening and he let out an amused breath in a huff.

Before he could say more, your friend tugged on your arm to pull your attention away from him. Her brows were furrowed and she shook her head at you. “No,” she whispered harshly. “Kowaii. Hanamiya is scary, don’t associate with him.”

You frowned at your friend in return, confusion in your eyes. It had Hanamiya snorting again, finding your expressions more than entertaining. He wondered how many more ways he could confuse you, frying your brain and emptying the space between your ears.

Looks like I just found my new toy.

[logansdoll]

heat

part two of "cottontail"

CW: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, heavily suggestive, profanity, bunny mutation + spring = fun times, girl imma do my best, this took forever, might be a little long, etc.

As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was worried about you.

In his two-hundred years of living, he had never met someone as hot-headed and brash as you—and that was saying something. But as your you-appointed new best pal, he resigned himself to making sure you didn't piss off the wrong people.

Though it was a nice change of role, seeing as he wasn't the loose canon for once, he couldn't help but begin to grow significantly concerned for your safety.

It wasn't that you were a bad person, far from it, in fact.

Always greeting him with a sweet mornin', Logan!

Always checking up on him after missions.

Always inviting him to "sparring sessions", which would inevitably turn into you two striking up conversation about anything and everything under the sun.

Not to mention you were a humongous flirt—Jean called it being "overly friendly".

She noted that you didn't flirt with any other guys like you did him.

You always gave him those cheeky smiles that seemed to irk him to no end, and put that flirty lilt in your voice when you spoke. Not to mention the constant compliments, which would stick with him for days, sometimes weeks.

But that all stopped about a week ago.

After a day of you acting incredibly off—no jokes, no laughter, little talking—Ororo said you suddenly came down with a "spring cold", but that you'd be up and at 'em soon.

Well, soon hadn't come yet, and Logan hadn't heard anything from you in days.

A spring cold couldn't last this long...

Was it the flu? Was it something else?

And why did everyone else seem so unbothered by it?

These thoughts swam in his head every time he passed your locked door.

Until he finally had enough.

The night everyone went out for a field trip to the county fair, Logan stayed back, opting to visit your quarters with a few choice words, and a container of chicken noodle soup.

When he reached your door, he gave it a soft rap.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Only after a third—more aggressive—knock, did you finally answer.

"Yeah?" you called, your voice low and croaky.

He'd never heard you sound so defeated, and almost... pained.

It made something pang in his chest.

"That must be some cold," he quipped, attempting to play off the feeling with humor.

"Logan?" you asked, sounding shocked. "What are you... What do you want?"

"I just came to give you some soup. Jean told me it's good," he answered, glancing down at the bag in his hand. "S'been a while since I've heard from you."

He waited for a response, but when you never gave one, he began to feel stupid.

This was a mistake.

"Look, I can just leave it outside the door if you don't wanna—"

"No," you interrupted, still sounding strained. "You can come in. Just leave it on my dresser."

A little confused by your tone, he entered nonetheless, boots clicking against the hardwood.

And what he found was concerning.

Your room was a mess—furniture askew, clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor, a rumpled mess of sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air was thick with sweat and something else. He looked toward the king-sized bed where a heap sat hunched underneath the sheets

"(y/n)?" Logan called, brows furrowed with confusion and worry as he placed the bag on the dresser.

"Don't come over here!"

You sounded so distressed, in such discomfort.

What's going on?

Why did you sound like you were in trouble?

Ignoring your warning, he slowly stalked closer to the bed, taking slow, tentative steps—now able to hear your soft whimpers and grunts of pain.

"(y/n)?" he questioned, firmly.

You stirred, reacting to his voice, breathing raggedly as if you couldn't get any air in your lungs.

"(y/n), what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Whatever it is, I can help."

But you turned away, the sheets shifting with you.

"You can't," you whined, "You can't."

Patience running thin, Logan stormed over and snatched the sheets off of you. And there, under the covers, he saw you with his own two eyes.

You were curled into yourself, tail significantly fluffier than he remembered, and ears droopier than he'd ever seen.

Through your thin tank top, he could see your nipples were hard and perky, the shorts you were wearing barely covering your ass cheeks.

'Goddamn...'

When you looked at him, your face flushed red, pupils dilated beyond belief as you covered your face with embarrassment.

You trembled in your skin, tail twitching with discomfort and unease.

"I told you not to come over here," you panted, curling further into yourself. "Didn't want you to see me like this..."

You winced, squeezing your thighs together tight, looking to be in complete agony.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm in heat," you sighed, the cat pretty much out of the bag. "S'cause of my mutation. I can do everything a rabbit can, and go through everything a rabbit goes through. No matter how fucking stupid."

You wiped the sweat off your forehead, your curly hair soaked in it.

"S'why I've been hiding," you explained. "I've been tryna get through this, but I just... can't!"

Now he understood.

Your absence, your uneasiness, the smell of something in the air.

You were horny.

"How long's it last?" Logan curiously asked.

"Depends. Could be a week, could be a month..."

"A month?" he stated, surprised. "Are you in pain?"

Your face screwed tight, triggering something in his core.

"Yes," you groaned, hugging yourself closer.

You looked away from him, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pained him.

He had to help.

"What can I do?" he suggested.

You turned to him, eyes widening. "What?" you asked. "What do you—"

"I wanna help you, cottontail," he cut in, already kicking off his boots and taking off his leather jacket to reveal his sexy, white wife-beater. "So tell me what I gotta do."

You watched him, looking completely stunned and mortified, but your pussy throbbed at the sight of his outfit.

"No, no, Logan," you protested. "Y-You can't... you don't need to do this."

But he stood firm in his decision, refusing to leave you.

"I know I don't need to," he firmly responded. "I can't let you go on like this."

"It's okay..." you assured. "It'll probably be done by the end of the week. You don't—"

Before you could even finish, his hand grabbed your face, pulling you close and squeezing your cheeks, his tone demanding.

"Don't protest. Don't argue. Don't push me away... Just let me take care of you, alright?"

His gorgeous brown eyes, filled with the promises of safety and acceptance, bore into yours.

How could you deny him?

"Okay," you caved, leaning into his touch.

"Good girl," he cracked a smile, lips suddenly swooping yours up in a firm kiss.

You let out a soft, eager moan as he scooped you up in his arms, the man letting out a quiet chuckle when you squeaked, your feet dangling off the ground.

While still kissing you, he sat himself down on the bed and plopped you in his lap. His soft lips and tongue made you squirm in his lap, brushing yourself against his quickly hardening cock in his jeans.

"Can I touch your ears?" he whispered, breathless. "'N' your tail?"

Gently, his hand moved down to your ass, caressing your cotton tail. Your toes curled, your body tingling from the sensation.

"Y-Yes," you shakily replied. "Go ahead."

And when his fingers began to lightly brush and stroke your bunny ear from base to tip, you nearly had a full body orgasm, your pussy growing wetter with each pass.

"Fuck..." you gasped. "Yes, just like that..."

Logan smirked as he watched your face contort in pleasure, his ego growing with each whimper.

"Like that?" he asked, teasingly, his cock throbbing at the sound of your pitiful whine in response.

Over these past few months, he'd had countless dreams about having you just like this. And now that he was, he could say with certainty that it was far better than any fantasy.

Gently, one of his big hands slid down between your thighs to pet your pussy through your panties, while the other continued to stroke your ears.

Your mouth fell agape, pleasure coursing through you.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, tilting your head back as his fingers ghosted over your clit.

You began to shamelessly grind your pussy into his fingers, turning Logan on even more.

"Needy little thing..." he chuckled, amused. "Adorable."

Under his firm gaze and insistent fingers, you nearly came apart at the seams. But before you could, he pulled away, scooping you up with one arm, much to your surprise and arousal, and sliding himself further down the bed.

With a grin, he dropped his head into the pillows, shifting and forcing you to hover over his face.

"M'gonna taste you, now," he stated, as if it was a fact.

You whined in response, moving to grab the headboard as he pulled your panties to the side, giving your pussy a quick peck before completely dropping you on top of him.

"Logan!" you half-moaned, half-screamed, eyes blown wide with pleasure.

You tried to brace yourself, but it wasn't long before he made you a writhing, whimpering, whining mess.

"Ah, Lo, yes!" you cried. "Oh, fuck! Right fuckin' there! Right fuckin' there!"

You were loud and vocal, much to his enjoyment.

He was having the time of his life, massaging your ass and sucking your wet pussy, your juices dripping down his chin.

He even groaned and grunted into your pussy about how good you tasted, only making you wetter at seeing such a stoic man lose his shit over you.

"You want a finger, baby?" he growled, voice slightly muffled. "Talk to me. Tell me what chu want."

"Please," you whimpered. "Fuck me, Logan! Make me come!"

Logan smiled, slowly inserting one of his thick fingers into your hole while his lips gently sucked on your clit.

You nearly screamed, bawling at the pleasure.

"Oh, my God!" you sobbed. "Shit, Logan, I'm gonna... I'm gonna.."

Your orgasm slammed into you without a second thought, drawing a string of slutty moans out as you came all over Logan's tongue.

"That's my good girl," he smirked into your pussy. "So fuckin' good f'me."

Your orgasm was so strong that you began to tremble, the aftershocks taking over your body.

The release helped with the pain... but it still wasn't enough.

You needed more.

Suddenly, he took hold of your chin, staring into your eyes as if he could peer right into your head.

"Do you want more?" he asked, cockily.

Slowly, you nodded, tears pricking your eyes at how much to needed this.

"Yes, Logan," you pleaded, your arousal making you bold and unashamed in your need to be fucked. "Please give it to me. I don't care how you take me. Just please..."

That was all he needed to hear.

He gave you exactly what you wanted and more. The man fucked you, and he fucked you good. He gave your little body everything it needed to knock out those horny thoughts and relieve you of your heat.

In almost every position, too.

He fucked you in missionary while standing up, his hips pistoning into yours while your feet dangled in the air, his hands pinning your thighs apart and making you take each deep, long, slow stroke that had you seeing stars and frantically rubbing your clit watching his handsome face contort in pleasure. 

He fucked you while standing up, your little body bouncing in his arms as you fucked you up and down on his cock, your arms wrapped tight around his neck, your tits pressed flush against his pecs, and your lips locked with his in a passionate, sloppy, wet kiss. 

He fucked you on your side, his big body curled around yours and his cock nestled between your ass cheeks before sliding inside you again, your leg hiked up to get deeper. 

He fucked you on all fours, using your ears to pull you back on his cock, your back arched and ass stinging from random spanks while he pounded into the deep, wet heat of your pussy that squeezed and griped him for dear life. When you tried to rub your clit, he smacked it away and rubbed your pussy for you.

“Uh-uh,” he growled. “No touching what’s mine. All you need to do is cum. Can my little bunny do that?” 

You didn't even answer—you couldn't. But your loud moans and sobs bouncing off of your walls are all the answers Logan needs as he fucked you faster, harder, making your clit sing and pleasure zip through you.

When you felt your last orgasm of the night zip through you, you let out a broken whimper and came all over Logan's cock. 

Triggered by your orgasm and sweet little sounds, Logan gripped you tighter and pounded into you without mercy, until he finally released, too.

“Oh, fuck!” he gasped, his loud groans and grunts echoing throughout the room, triggering another mini-orgasm that made your pussy quiver and drip down your thighs. 

Logan came deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. He even had enough to give you on your ass, pulling out to spray your perfect cheeks with more of his seed, pumping his cock furiously behind you.

A smile stretched across your face as the aftershocks began, practically melting into the sheets. 

You were sweaty, winded, soaked, tired, and covered in cum...but you’d never been more satisfied or happier in your life.

Logan finally settled down beside you, turning you over to face him. He gave you a small smile, his face hot with stray hairs sticking to his forehead. 

“Better now?” he murmured, gently stroking down your back.

You wordlessly nodded, a small, tired hum leaving your lips. 

“Good,” he nodded, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Get some rest.”

And just like that, you were out like a light, softly snoring into his chest, your body curled into his side.

You couldn't wait for next spring...

[rinhaler]

Yooo, your plug!sukuna x reader fic has got me so feral imgggg

And it got me thinking

imagine Yuuji and Sukuna double teaming you???

this is not canon buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut... it is hot so hope u like this hehe

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest (itadori bro's sharing u), double penetration (one hole), degradation, praise, cheating mention, bruising, hair pulling, oral fixation, daddy kink mention, spanking, squirting, creampie.

words: 1.1k

“B-Baby I- fuck. How could y-ou? Fuck him of all- all people?” Yuuji wonders, fingers gripping into your sides deeply. You’re bound to bruise. With the way he’s fucking you and squeezing into your supple flesh, you can practically feel the broken blood vessels forming purple blooms with every thrust into your squelching cunt.

It isn’t deliberate.

He just wants you to remember who you belong to.

“’m sorry!” you cry, tears pelting down onto the mattress below as he batters your interior again and again. “I didn’t mean t’ fuck him.. I didn’t—!”

“Aht aht. None of that,” Sukuna speaks, his fingers lacing through your hair and yanking enough to elicit a pained yelp from you. Your eyes shimmer as you they reflect the stare of red irises that have become so easy to manipulate you. “Wasn’t like that when you were crying for me to ruin you, was it? In fact…” he pulls out his phone and quickly finds the home made sex tape he’d made without asking.

“D-Don’t…” you sob, though you don’t have it in you to really fight him. He pushes his thumb by the seam of your lips in a bid to shut you up. And in your cock drunk, dazed state, you begin to suck like a baby with a pacifier. You clench around Yuuji as the video begins to play and you hear how loud you’re moaning for your boyfriend’s elder brother. The sex was phenomenal and you’ll never forget it for as long as you live. “Remember this? Hm?” he questions as he swipes to a certain point of the video.

“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.”

You scream, a trail of drool connecting his thumb to your tongue as you can’t help yourself when Yuuji spanks your ass. He’s seen it before, of course, but it doesn’t make it any easier. God you sound desperate, and in that moment, you were.

“Think it’s okay to f-fuck my brother? Huh? You were meant to say no.” he reminds you. He pulls your back into his chest and holds each of your wrists in his hands and keeps them near the small of your back. And he uses them, for leverage, as he fucks his length into your weeping slit. “Beggin’ for him to bruise your cervix like that? Had no idea what a little slut you were. You want him to fuck you again, don’t you?”

“N-No!” you lie. You’d love Sukuna to ravage you again. To make a complete mess of your insides and churn your brain into mush. You don’t want to think about anything but getting destroyed by him and Yuuji.

You feel so spoilt.

Sukuna doesn’t say a word as he gets closer to you. His length runs through your folds and nudges your clit as Yuuji keeps you pinned in place. Your face twinkles as the light reflects off of your tear stricken cheeks.

Yuuji slows down as Sukuna helps you angle your hips.

Though you aren’t sure how it’s only just dawning on you now what is happening.

Sukuna’s heavy mushroom tip begins to split your cunt further open. Each yelp and cry silenced by Yuuji as he smothers your mouth and whispers into your ear.

“Shhhh, baby, you can take him. You’ve done it before, yeah? Good girl, sh sh sh…” he consoles you. His hands grope your tits and his lips smother your neck and shoulder in soft kisses as he tries to distract you from the stinging stretch being inflicted upon you. “That’s it… good fucking girl… you can take us both, yeah? You wan’ us to fuck you stupid, yeah?”

You hum, unsure if you’re agreeing or not. Nothing is really making sense when all you can focus on is the fact you’re somehow accommodating two Itadori cocks at once.

“Look at you… elastic little cunt.” Sukuna snarls, laughing as he drinks in the sight of you being double stuffed like a porn star. He grabs his phone, taking a quick picture so that Yuuji can see the view he’s seeing.

“Woah… you’re so good, baby. Takin’ us so well.” he praises, kissing the skin behind your ear before slowly rolling his hips again.

“Don’t fucking praise her yet, haven’t even moved.” Sukuna starts, his hips begin to move too. Their thrusts are off beat and your heart begins to pound. You aren’t getting a break to get used to the feeling. The tempo of their mismatched thrusts has your vision whiting out. Your head lolls backwards onto Yuuji’s shoulder as they continue to ruin you, and you swear you can’t breathe.

You aren’t sure if you’re even there.

“M-Maybe we should slow down,” Yuuji tells Sukuna, his hips already slowing before he finishes his sentence.

“Fuck that.” Sukuna grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. Drool spills from your lips and your eyes can’t focus. But he knows you’re listening and he knows you’re looking. You’re in there somewhere, enjoying this. “We already know you’re a whore so don’t act shy now.”

“’m g’na c-um.” you manage to squeak out even in your dazed state. “H-aah!” you struggle, but your pussy does all the talking for you. The sound of liquid spilling out of you is deafening. The suctioning and squelching sounds that follow are just as boisterous as they continue to pound into you. And just as you think your high is drawing to a close, their sloppy thrusts pick up the pace.

Another stream of liquid gushes from your cunt as they abuse your sweet spot in independently. Your head falls forward onto Sukuna’s chest, now. And he uncharacteristically cradles the crown of your head as you rest there.

Yuuji lets go of the singular wrist he’s still holding so he can focus on fucking into you. And he does, loudly. His moans are raucous as he empties his balls into your greedy hole.

Sukuna soon follows, hissing through his teeth as he spills his seed soon after his brother. None of you want to move, least of all you. You’re still clenching around them both while you rest against Sukuna’s chest. Yuuji begins to kiss at your shoulder, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are. And you shudder when his kisses trail down the column of your spine.

The elder brother is silent as he pants, stroking your hair repeatedly as he contemplates what just happened. But he hurriedly moves his hand away when he sees Yuuji look up at him.

“Knew she could take us,” he smirks. “Your girlfriend’s a perfect little whore.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[loveanddeepthroat]

Unlucky Thirteen

Summary - Sylus liked the quiet girl with the poorly heart. She was the only kid in the laboratory who hadn’t come and gone before he could even remember what she looked like. When he doesn’t see her for a whole day, he knows that there’s only one place she could be—the Medical Bay. He’d been through it all before she’d even arrived at the lab over a year prior, and felt a duty to keep her company whilst her heart healed.

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - Child!Sylus and Child!MC as experimental lab rats. Mentions of child experimentation and non-consensual medical treatments. This theory of them being lab rats is not canon, so keep in mind that I have made this all up!

Sylus couldn’t find the girl with the poorly heart.

It was the third and final free hour of the day in the laboratory’s Playroom, and she was nowhere to be seen among the children.

Again.

The girl had been missing a few times before now—usually for further experimentation. But for all three of their free time breaks from observations and alterations meant only one thing.

She had to be in the Medical Bay.

He didn’t know much about the quiet girl, other than the fact that she had problems with her heart. There was always a big, white bandage over her chest that just peaked out over the neckline of her plain white gown, but he would never ask her questions about it. They only got to see each other during mealtime and free time, so discussing the things they were put through in between was something neither of them wanted to commit any time to. She didn’t want to talk about her heart as much as he didn’t want to talk about his eye.

In fact, they didn’t talk much at all. They just had a common denominator that seemed to draw them to each other.

Sylus had watched kids come and go from this place for a few years, hoping that one day it would be his turn to leave. That futile hope had been short lived, and it became clear that he wasn’t going anywhere when all the other kids around him dropped off like flies. 

When she came in with a new group of kids around a year ago, he thought nothing of it. She was just a face he’d forget after she would undoubtedly be released. But as those weeks turned to months—the few children she had arrived with long gone—her face had remained a constant for Sylus.

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she’d finally been freed today. The people in the lab coats were far too interested in her as of late, and she was starting to look more withdrawn each time he saw her. Much like he had when he woke from an operation he didn’t know he was having.

The more he thought about her condition, the more he hoped that she was in the Medical Bay—rather than somewhere more sinister.

He’d grown a bit of an attachment to the girl. She was the only friendly face that hadn’t left him. Even in their lack of conversation, he enjoyed her company. Felt comforted by her. They often read in silence side by side, always in whichever back corner of the Playroom was free of other kids. The less significant test subjects always delved straight into the toys and games, but the two of them had no interest in joining in.

Sometimes, if the lab coats had prodded around in his eye too much, the girl would quietly read aloud to him. He liked it when she read to him. So much so that he sometimes played on his eye problems just to hear her read for an hour.

He was used to her being absent for one or two of the three free hours they get, but this was too much for him. 

He had to get into the Medical Bay.

His head had purposely been rested against the electric heater beside the bookshelf for a few minutes as he made himself appear as clammy and feverish as possible. His cheeks burned as he pinched them repeatedly, and he put on his best nasally voice once he approached the Playroom supervisor with a little book tucked under his white t-shirt, rubbing his good eye for added effect.

“I feel sick,” he whined to the stone-faced woman in all-black clothing.

She barely threw down a glance at him, raising a lazy eyebrow. “You were fine during dinner.”

Damn.

Plan B came into quick effect. He rolled his eyes back a little, swaying where he stood. The hot skin of his forehead bumped against her hipbone as he stumbled forward dramatically, and she quickly bent down to his level, steadying him with her firm hands.

“Oh for goodness sake,” she mumbled, her frown deepening when she pressed the backs of her cold fingers against his head. She pulled out a little radio device that was tucked in the chest pocket of her shirt, speaking into it frankly with a push of its button. “Patient S013 is feeling unwell. Feverish. Permission to move from Room 11 to the Medical Bay?”

Sylus held his breath, willing whoever was on the other end of the radio call to grant the cold woman the permission he didn’t know she would need. He’d only ever been to the Medical Bay once before, and hadn’t ever wanted to return. Being examined and tested by strange scientists everyday was bad enough. He had no interest in spending time with the nurses who tended to him after his surprise surgery.

“Permission granted,” a male voice affirmed through the radio.

The stern lady grabbed suddenly at his shoulder, pushing him lightly out of the noisy room and down the silent halls. He liked when they were silent. He’d heard enough screams from children to haunt him for life.

The walk to the Medical Bay was short, and Sylus remembered to throw a few sniffles and pathetic coughs into the silent trek to keep up his charade. He must’ve still looked red faced and sickly, the nurse on duty handing him a gown to change into straight away upon his arrival.

He changed as quickly as he could behind a curtain that gave him only a sliver of privacy, tucking the book he’d smuggled from the Playroom into the inner fabric. The nurse checked his vital signs In the small triage room with nothing but a blank look on her face for comfort. Nobody around here tended to smile or show any true emotion towards the children. 

It didn’t affect Sylus at all. He didn’t know any different. Didn’t remember a time when someone smiled at him. Or when he had smiled at someone else. 

He wasn’t sure if he ever had.

The small, sterile Medical Bay was empty as he followed the nurse inside—save for the tuft of the girl's hair he could see peeking out above her blanket. He almost audibly sighed with relief to see her, but the fact that something was wrong enough for her to even be in the Medical Bay struck alarm bells in his head.

“Patient S113 isn’t feeling good, so try to be quiet,” the nurse told him. She pulled back the covers of the bed next to the girl, hurriedly ushering him to get in before giving him a syringe of medicine to take. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

He nodded, waiting for her to turn around before he took a look at the sickly girl a few feet away. The skin on her face was shiny and damp in the stark light of the strip lights above them. She didn’t look well at all, and had the thin, white blanket pulled right the way up to her chin.

The nurse administered a dose of something fluorescent yellow to her in another syringe, pressing her hand to the girl’s damp forehead with a tut. Sylus could’ve sworn that the nurse sighed a little in concern.

“That medicine should make you feel a bit better soon. Try to sleep,” she murmured to the girl quietly, moving the strands of hair that were stuck to her skin before leaving the room. 

He didn’t know what to do once the nurse closed the door behind her. The quiet girl looked so…deathly. Her colouring was a good few shades lighter than it usually was, and there was a greyish tinge to it too. Whatever was going on with her, it didn’t look good.

“What happened?” he blurted quietly.

She slowly turned her head towards him, blinking a few times to focus her eyes. They widened a little when she realised it was him.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice small and croaky.

The sound hurt something in Sylus’s chest. “What happened?” he repeated again, sitting up a little further in the bed to get a good look at her.

The girl lifted a shaky hand, pointing straight to where her heart was. “I think it’s broken,” she replied.

Sylus frowned a little. He didn’t know that hearts could break. Bones could break, he knew that much. He’d seen broken bones quite often in this place. Her heart wasn’t like most people’s—he knew that too. 

But it couldn’t break. Right?

“Are they going to make it better?”

She blinked at him a few times, and he really studied her. This was the most they’d ever said to each other in conversation, but it didn’t feel strange or wrong like he thought it might. It felt natural. Almost like they were both still here in the wake of so many other young patients’ departures for a specific reason. 

He found himself wanting to know more. He wanted to know everything about her heart—including how to fix it.

Her weary eyes glanced around the room for any listening ears, and she shifted the blanket down from her chin so she could see over it. She eventually whispered back to him, “I’m not sure that they’re even trying to fix it.” She took a shuddering breath in, wincing a little bit. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

That’s when he noticed it.

In the absence of the blanket, he saw the gnarly tail end of a stitched up incision where he would usually see a bit of the bandage she always donned on her chest. He may have been young, but he knew without having to ask what the lab coats had done to her. They’d done the same thing to him once before. Put him to sleep without warning to poke and prod into the innards of his most interesting body part—his right eye. He had no idea why they were so interested in it, or why they were equally as interested in her heart. But whatever the reason, it was mutually exclusive to the two of them.

“They’ve done that to me, too,” he reassured her quietly, trying to shift that anxious look from her tired face. She didn’t know what was going on, so he felt a duty to soothe any worries on her mind. “I woke up in here with a big bandage over my eye before you came to live here. Couldn’t see properly for a few weeks, but it got better. Like your heart will.”

The girl looked apprehensive, but seemed a little bit more settled to know that he’d been in the same situation previously. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before she spoke. “You’ve been here for a long time.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered like it was. He didn’t want to stop talking with her, hoping it was bringing her some semblance of peace. “I have,” he confirmed with a nod. “Me and twelve other kids were the first here. That’s why I’m patient S013.”

“Thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number,” she whispered.

Sylus cocked his head to the side, wondering if she was kidding. He’d never heard of that before, but if she was right, it would make perfect sense. Patients S013 and S113 being the two most focused on subjects in the lab coats’ top secret experiments did seem a bit too coincidental in his mind.

He sure did have a lot of time on his hands to think about things like that, too. She was the one hundredth kid after him to arrive, and ended up stuck here with him for the foreseeable. Maybe whichever newcomer unlucky enough to be patient S213 would end up in their same predicament.

“We’ll find our luck one day,” he finally responded, exuding all of his confidence into that one sentence. He was determined that he’d fight his way out of here one day, and that he’d be able to bring her with him. He wasn’t strong enough—not yet. But whatever they were doing to him here, he’d use it to his own advantage once he got a good understanding of it. “Maybe we’ll both get out of here, and we can see what the world is like.”

The girl smiled. Smiled at him, even in her state. It wouldn’t have been possible to not smile back, no matter how unnatural it felt for the corners of his lips to curl.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her blinks were slowing down, and she looked sleepy. “That would be nice. I’d like to see the ocean one day, like I’ve read about in books.”

Sylus suddenly remembered the book he’d smuggled in, still resting coldly against his stomach beneath his gown. He quickly reached down into the neckline, grabbing it out and waving it up for her to see it.

“I could read to you, if you want? While you fall asleep.” He wasn’t sure if it would help her in any way, but the familiarity of a book seemed like the best form of comfort he could think of for her.

Her tired eyes lit up a little, and her smile widened. It struck something in Sylus’s heart, and for a moment, he wondered if he had a heart problem. He’d never felt such a feeling, but he liked it. It felt like a real feeling. Not just the horrible physical feelings of aches and pains.

It was a mental feeling. A caring feeling.

He settled himself back against the plump pillow behind him, opening up the book. It was a children’s fable that they’d read many times before, and the one book he enjoyed hearing her read. He checked on her once more, making sure she was still awake and eager to hear him read.

The idea of a book seemed to wake her up a bit from her fatigue, but even so, Sylus would read the book over and over until it lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

He quietly cleared his throat reading the title aloud the way she always does.

“The Kitten Who Met The Crow…”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little story! I think the lab rats theory is so interesting and couldn’t resist this sweet little idea! I’ve been a bit slow on the content recently and I do apologise, but I’m in the midst of moving into a new apartment and the stress of that on top of the way my neurodivergent son is struggling to cope with it has turned my brain to mush. Things should settle soon and I’ll be back on the requests 🤍

[luvf4ngz]

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance. 

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis. 

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful. 

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.” 

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles. 

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after. 

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.” 

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.” 

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp. 

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness. 

“I know it not ‘seems’.” 

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses. 

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.” 

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!” 

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin. 

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns. 

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again. 

“Spiderman panties. Cute.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs. 

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders. 

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement. 

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you. 

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines. 

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal. 

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure. 

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs. 

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” 

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes. 

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” 

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion. 

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more. 

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white. 

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities. 

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue. 

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him. 

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath. 

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves. 

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it. 

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes. 

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.” 

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock. 

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan. 

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him. 

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support. 

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. 

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now. 

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm. 

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers. 

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction. 

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl. 

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds. 

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply. 

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach. 

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait. 

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap. 

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands. 

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock. 

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast. 

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you. 

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips. 

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now. 

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out. 

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt. 

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss. 

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy. 

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm. 

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it. 

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you. 

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks. 

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

[behidethetrees]

THE RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK, STILL SMELLS LIKE YOU.

IN WHICH… having a job while dating a clingy rafe doesn’t exactly go hand in hand.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem! Pogue!Reader

Contents: NON-CANON!Rafe, Reader fixes cars, clingy and possessive! Rafe, brief Pope mention, Your friends are the pogues, This is set in the 2000s!!

THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!! my old blog was deleted so i have to reupload all my fics :( Anways enjoy!

Prequel Part 1

Rafe hates that you work. 

You weren't meant to clean cars, You were meant to stay inside your Tannyhill house with Rafe, Always next to him, never out of his sight. 

He hated the assholes you complained about for being rude to you. Rafe always argued or sometimes fought people who even looked at you wrong. Once he heard some old dude yell at you to hurry up, Later that night Rafe smashed his car with his golf club. He was big on respect especially when it came to you. 

But there was nothing more that Rafe hated than the fact you worked with Guys alongside two other girls. It's not that he didn't trust you or thought you might cheat on him with them, He didn't trust them. You were beautiful, heaven sent in Rafe's eyes. Your guy friends were lucky to even be in your presence, Or they were even luckier Rafe didn't bash their heads open for being around you. 

Sometimes Rafe would show up to your job for a bit when he wasn't playing golf or he missed you extra. You knew Rafe was very, very clingy, always touching you in some way, But today was extreme. 

JULY, 2008. 

“Rafe I'm gonna be late!” You tried to get Rafe off your back but he kept hugging you tighter. 

“Do you have to have to go, why can't I come, why can't you just quit already?” Rafe whines. He'd never admit it out loud but he dreaded the times you went to work.

You start to waddle towards the front door. “If I let you come with me will you get off of me?” You question him.

Almost instantly Rafe steps away, looking at you surprised as you already walk outside, opening your car door. “Really? I can go?” He asks shocked.

“If you dont get in the car in 10 seconds I'm leaving you.” You stated, Not that you were going to leave him but you wanted him to hurry up. Rafe almost trips because of how fast he darted to your car. Rafe insisted he’d drive you, that wasnt up for discussion.

Rafe opens the car door for you when you two arrive at the Pogue bodyshop. He slips his arms around your waist as you walk, keeping you close to him, This was going to be a long day. 

When you popped open the hood of your client's car, Rafe hugged you from behind, Kissing your neck gently as you worked. At first you didn't mind but it started becoming a lot. Anywhere you walked, Rafe followed. When you went to talk to anybody Rafe slung his arm around your neck while giving whoever the death stare, making sure they know you're his. 

When you went on lunch break Rafe sat you in his lap, keeping you away from your friends. As you eat your sandwich, Occasionally letting Rafe have a bite, Your friend Pope comes up to you.

“Hey Y/N do you want my chips?” Pope offered, He always gave you his chips because he felt too guilty to tell his mom she wasnt getting the right kind. 

“Yeah sure thanks Pope” You smiled at him, as you extended your arm to grab them, You felt Rafe's strong arm pull yours back down. 

“Fuck off.” Rafe grits through his teeth, Staring at him tensely. Pope's expression fell and he quickly turned around to start speed walking to the other pogues.

“What the hell was that?” You flicked Rafe on the forehead. 

“I dont like him, He's no good like the rest of those pogues.” Rafe states as he rubs the part of his forehead you flicked him on. Rafe didn't like your friends for many reasons, stupid reasons. Mostly because they're pogues, like you, which confused you. 

“Im a pogue too Rafe.” You remind him as you cross your arms, You didn't understand the whole ‘Kooks vs. Pogues’ rivalry. You recall the first time you met JJ he went on a rant on how you should stay away from kooks and how they're the real trash. 

“Not like them, you're different baby.” Rafe tried to clarify but he had already messed up. You stood up in front of him, still crossing your arms. 

“Apologize to him or leave.” You tell him. “ You can't come to my work just to be mean to my friends and clients, And I can't work with you all up on me Rafe!” Rafe quickly stood up, He heard your tone and your voice slightly getting louder indicating you were getting annoyed with him. But luckily for Rafe, he knew how to get you to calm down. 

“Hey, hey I'm sorry okay? Really I am, dont make me leave.” Rafe grabbed your hands to take them into his own. All it took was Rafe's sweet words and his dazzling eyes for you to give in to him. Your face softens as you look at him. 

You sigh. “Please stop clinging to me when I'm working okay? I promise we can cuddle when we get home but I need to get this car done.” You tell him, He quickly nods. 

“And I'm serious Rafe, apologize to Pope!” You playfully push his shoulder.

“Whatever you want baby.” 

A/N: someone on my old blog wanted a prequel of how they met so i will do that soon <3.

Requests

Taglist: @nowitsmissing

[in-daddy-price-we-trust]

All I Wanted - Part 2

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 3

AN: Here it is! The Long awaited part two !!

Hope you enjoy this just as much as part one !!

Price POV

This was not what they needed right now. When 141 first heard of a potential weapons trade for El Sin Nombre going down in Amsterdam, they couldn't wait to get on the field.

The suspense was killing them as they waited for the right moment. They knew at this point that trying to stop the deal would be more hassle than worth. So the plan of waiting for their food to come to them was a better solution.

Price stalled however when he saw her step out. No way this was who they were after. No one in a cartel would go about wearing over-pink clothes. It was stupid. Even more so when she started shooting back, with a pistol as well.

"Ghost, move in," the static of the radio crackled before a grumbled copy sounded back. Price watched as Ghost snuck up behind her, his feet silent as he kicked her knees in and knocked her out.

"Well done Ghosty," The Scotsman, Soap, cheered over the comms, making his way down to the evac truck they scheduled.

She sat in-between him and Ghost. "No way she's with Nombre," Gaz announced after a few minutes of silence, "She's a child!" A hum left Soap's throat. 

"That's why we integrate her, Nombre or not, we can still use her to our advantage," Price concluded, sending the group back into quiet before she awoke.

-

Gaz was right. She was a child, barely reaching 16. Guilt hung heavy in his heart as he thought back to her crying. Cheeks red with tears and eyes puffy. 

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering a 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at the discovery. Eyes flicked across the room, every single soldier in that room seemed to suffocate in the amount of tension.

With a heavy sigh, Price spoke again. "How about we make a deal?" her head shot up at the words, a mix of emotions slathered across her features. From here he could tell she was picking apart his words.

"You, stay with us and get a place to stay," Price's eyes drifted to his team behind her.

"But - you have to help us catch our guy," The words cemented in her brain, slowly nodding along to them. It couldn't be worse to what she was used to, can it? Worse case scenario, she runs away again.

"Okay," it was final, "But I need to get my gear first."

-

The drive was quiet. The radio played some random pop song that she muttered the lyrics too, fingers drumming on her thighs. 

The boys seemed glad she accepted the deal. Although it may be the fact she was a minor and by the sounds of it, partaking in crime activity. Of course, this wouldn't be as different but at least all expenses were paid for by the government.

The car lulled to a stop, pulling up in front of the hotel. The door slammed shut before Price even registered her unclicking her seat belt leaving him to race after her.

A smile graced her lips as she greeted the lady at the front desk, who then proceeded to side eye Price. He would too if he saw a teenager going up to a hotel room with a 40-something-year-old man.

The pair continued to be silent in each other's presence, even when her fingers slipped together pressing and pulling on each one as a sort of fidget. The lift dinged at the second floor, Price hot on her heels to the hotel room. She muttered the number continuously under her breath, 105. 

Number splayed in gold, she struggles to get the keycard from wherever she managed to store the thing, like seriously, where did she put things? 

The door pushed open to the room. The white linen sheets still a mess from when she woke up this morning. What caught his eye was the absurdly bright duffle bag that sat on the middle of the hardwood floors, from where he stood he could make out the top of a pink sniper. 

'Jesus the girl knew how to stick to a theme, that's for sure..'

Diligently she picked up the weapons she managed to slide into nooks and crannies. Picking up stray plushies along the way. Price tried to help, but whenever he tried to pick up a cuddly brown bear he'd get holes burnt unto his head. So he eventually dropped it, opting to stand near the door.

Before long she came up to him, bag over her shoulder and a determined look in her eyes. The trip back to reception was awkward. The same tense atmosphere seemed to follow like a shadow. The lift dinged again, the robotic voice announcing their arrival.

She marched over to the receptionist, explaining she was checking out early (even though there was still two weeks left) and saying if anyone needed it to let them have the room for free. The soft spoken words melted the workers heart, promising to do as told.

-

Your POV

Price was awkward. Maybe the commanding aura around him clashed with yours of innocence. But - you both knew yours was fake. To some extent at least.

"Why did you make a deal? - with me?" It was a genuine question. The want of appreciation and validation flooding through your veins.

His eyes flicked down to you, noticing you already looking him in the face. He huffed a laugh at it. Soft, warm. "Well - I'm not just going to toss a kid out on the street, am I?" It was the truth. Voice of honey and liquid gold washing over you. Clouding your brain.

"Thank you, Price."

-

"Doll, wake up for me yeah?" a hum fell past your lips as you stirred awake, rubbing your eyes.

"Are we back already?" voice hoarse and scratchy, a yawn coming from you mid sentence.

Price chuckled at you. 'Glad someone finds this amusing.' 

"C'mon love - I'll show you to your new room and you can have a kip in there, kay?" His voice was soft, almost like the words would make you shatter and crumble like glass. Though it worked, pushing you out of the passenger seat of the car and onto the (now) familiar gravel plaza. Pink mary janes dragged behind you, sleep seeping into your bones.

That was soon rushed out of you when Mohawk appeared in front of you and Price. "Hi lassie, names Sargent John Mactavish but Soap is fine!" He beamed, pearly whites flashing down as you appeared wide eyed at him, stunned at the sudden (and quite frankly, loud) appearance. He threw a hand over his shoulder, pointing at the other figure you completely missed, "And that's Gaz." It was the shorty of the group, giving you a sheepish wave and a sympathetic smile at the loud Scot.

Price placed a hand on your shoulder, a slight apology maybe? You found yourself staring up at him before speaking, "Uhm.. thank- thank you Soap-?" cursing yourself for stumbling over your words. The nicknames getting caught on your tongue at its strangeness. "What kind of name is 'Soap' anyways?" He laughed at that, full belly laughed. Sort of high like a bell, although pleasant.

"M' Afraid I can't tell ya that, confidential," It was spoken with a wicked grin plastered across his face. The smile contagious and making the pink bands of your braces show. "Why don't Gaz and I show you to your new room?" A glance to Price and his nudge of the head allowed you to accept the offer, Soap instantly grabbing the bag from off your shoulder and pulling you along, going on to ramble about his hometown in Scotland.

-

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[anonymouscheeses]

Im sorry i have to say it..: Get Your Hands Dirty sounds like a love song.

HEAR. ME. OUTT!! (No i dont mean a love song between Chloe n Ella omg 😭)

What I'm implying here is that it sounds like one of those niche high school love stories when one of the lovers(most likely a goodie two-shoes) goes to their mentor/parent/even the person their loving/etc to ask for advice on relationships. Or more specifically, if this person is worth it or even a good person. From the top of my head: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) and the goodie and the wildchild dynamic is pretty similar to Gabriella and Troy from hs musical, which iws(iil) kinda inspired this post tbh but also ive been thinking about this ever since i first watched the movie. (You plop in ur own songs, i js KNOW this trope exists)

Now that we've established the well used niche trope existing in this niche song made by the niche king that is Disney.... why do i think that Get Your Hands Dirty is a love song, i hear?

Lets analyze THE LYRIICS 😈😈

"Right and wrong, cruel and kind, who's to say?" "There's a code that I believe in."

"Robin Hood" "yeah?" "Awesome guy" "yeah!"

"Every choice, you're gonna find there's shades of grey." "There are rules for a reason!"

"So you could then cross that line, theoretically."

"You'd agree?" "But he stole for the poor."

"The decision's always up to you. When there's only one thing left to do"

"I don't know you anymore.."

Okay, so i shortened and made it tiny for obvious reasons, that bein its too long 😭 so! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS A FEEELIN?? a feelin that this is SCREAMING denial?! Its giving...

Chloe: Ellaaaa.... this girl im talkn to is SOOO HHHOOOOTT and PRETTY and cool and stuff but ugh.... SHE EEEVILLL!!

Ella: oh my gosh.. STFU. Shes prolly not even that evil ill prove it smh..

*get ur hands dirty starts playing. No exaggeration. No cap.*

"Okay, but there's some universal truths you must recognize." "Like?"

"Valiant knights, pure and good, guaranteed" "That depends on what they're fighting for"

"Creepy witches selling potions for evil deeds" "She could have kids she's providing for"

"If your good-good things will come to you"

MORE denial, Chloe wants to be friends with Red SO bad she looks stupid, but she brings herself back by trying to prove to herself that she's evil and they SHOULDN'T be that close. Which also is a big sign of comphet and heteronormativity, i would know 🧍 (which is a post for another day i might make. Prolly 2 prove that Chloe is a lesbian in deep comphet)

"But just how far do you go? How much do you compromise? Oh, tell me, how do you know. Where do you draw the line?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If my heart tells me it's right. If it's for someone I love. If it's to save a life."

"To save your life."

Further deepening the trope i mentioned. The first line could be interpreted as a double meaning since the song is kind of mostly about Chloe coming to terms with the fact Red isn't really evil or as bad as she thought, plus the argument of where the line between evil and good is. It could refer to Red or Ella, maybe both, but Ella changes the meaning with her own experiences so it drifts off the focus from Red because we cant have ANYTHING 🤧 but i still believe Chloe intended it to be for Red since the entire song is really just for the progress of their relationship n stuff.

Now this could definitely all be in my head, yes, Disney would most likely NEVER canonize or even imply heavily a queer relationship or anything lgbtq on a pre established franchise (cowards.). But there is always a chance.... deep inside the dark heart of the mouse..

Plus, with the subtle hints here and there of Red and Chloe's relationship growing, romantically or not, they are still super close and love eachother alot. Chloe is js (kinda) canonically a girl kisser who cant help but find a girl kissable (same)

And don't get me started on this movie and its obsession with love and proving how it is not "ain't it". Hello...? They set the tone of love, but i see NO person close enough to Red established for this message (other than Chloe) and if they introduce some random guy in the next movies, NO ONE would care nor would they want it unless somehow its 100x better than redcharming, but thats impossible cz wlw 4 life.

So, this entire thingy is me basically finding scraps and wanting to provr that charminghearts IS canon and WILL be established soon! (Im delulu)

[the-badger-mole]

@allnewalldifferentwildspider

I will say, I think it's interesting when people say that arguing that the finale and Kataang happening the way it was just giving Aang what he wanted is somehow us taking Katara's agency away. Katara was rightfully angry with Aang in her last two encounters with him. Giving her agency within that narrative would look like her actually having a conversation with Aang and telling him how she felt. I don't just mean romantically, I mean having an actual conversation where her conflict with him is laid out and resolved, like it would be in any healthy friendship, and much more a healthy romance. People can argue that they had a conversation off screen. That's fine. I will never tell anyone they can't headcanon whatever they please. It's none of my business unless they make it my business. Have so much fun. Don't even think about me or my opinions. They don't matter.

However, she never had that conversation. It's not in the show. It's not in the comics. It's not canon. The way her moment of "oh, I like him" was set up implied that she only considered him romantically because he ostensibly singlehandedly "saved the day" (he most certainly did not). There's never a moment where she gets to be vulnerable with him and have him help her carry her burden. No moment of why she might like him romantically (and also, may I add, we never see what, aside from her looks, Aang likes about Katara). Any "build up" of Kataang on her end is largely done through external circumstances and not the result of her coming to understand her feelings (this from the passionate girl who wears her heart on her sleeve for the entire series). They are also never again brought up by her- and the times it brought up by Aang in canon are disastrous (Lava Fissure Incident. EIP. Arguably DoBS). Katara never has a chance to confront Aang on his blatant disrespect of her culture, and it's never walked back- in fact, IIRC, in the comics, he supports the soft colonization of the SWT by the NWT.

I can understand why people have the headcanon that Katara and Aang had a deep conversation off-screen that resolved all their issues and gave Katara a chance to tell him she liked him and why. I think that if you ship them, you kind of have to headcanon something like that. But I do not think canon supports it. Their deep conversations center Aang and his feelings. Katara's feelings never seem to matter that much to Aang. He didn't even care that Katara and Sokka had lost their father to the Fire Nation after Hakoda sacrificed himself to save Aang's stupid behind. He wanted to go run off and play. Our hero, ladies and babies. There has to be a lot of head canoning to make Kataang work. I know because everything I hate about Aang and Kataang is canon. If I'm basing Kataang on the canon, it looks just like the glimpses we get in LoK, only with a lot less hero worship of Aang.

Don't get me wrong, all the overt romance in Zutara is pure headcanon. I recognize that and I love that for us. What's not head canon is that Zuko shows Katara a ton of support and respect in their short onscreen friendship. And at the risk of upsetting Aang's fans, I will argue Zuko showed her feelings more consideration than Aang ever did in the entire series.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?

Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.

To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.

If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But… he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!

[mulansaucey]

Azriel x Reader

I had a little scenario playing out in my head and so I decided to write the scene. If y’all want me to write the full story just let me know. Anyways this is so for fun so enjoy!

•••••••••••

I waited for my drink at the counter of the small tavern. I look around, soaking it all in as I think of my mate spending his youth here.

As I’m lost in thoughts of Azriel I feel a presence beside me.

“I know you’re not from around here. What brings a beautiful stranger to this part of Illyria?” A male with shoulder length curls and bronze skin marked with dirt and sweat says to me.

I look him over and can’t help but see the major superiority complex and possible daddy issues oozing out of him. I give him a polite smile and reply, “I’m here with my mate, just visiting his childhood home.”

I turn away as to dismiss him and end the conversation. Hoping the deterrent that Azriel is just across the room would help. But nope.

“That’s what they all say. I don’t see a male claiming you. In fact,” he leans in to whisper into my ear.

“It’s actually quite dangerous for a girl like you. Anyone could just pick you up and walk out of here.” He leans away with a smirk.

The skin on my neck stands up with the subtle threat of danger. I can tell he doesn’t hear “No” often. And if he does then he doesn’t take it as a valid answer. I smile sweetly at him and say, “Touch a hair on my fucking head and don’t even worry about my mate killing you. Because you’d be trapped with me.”

My drinks make their way to me as soon as I’m done speaking and I turn to walk away when the brute grabs my forearm making my drinks crash to the floor with the force he turns me towards him.

“You bit-“ he doesn’t even have time to finish the insult before Azriel appears through the shadows, grabs the arm gripping me, twists it behind the unfortunate Illyrian and slams his body onto the counter.

His screams make the whole tavern go quiet. Everyone waiting on bated breath to see what the Shadowsinger would do.

“I didn’t know she was yours! I’m sorry!”

Azriel leans down low, making sure the stupid brute hears every word.

“ONE word from her and I break your arm.”

Before I can even stop myself I say, “Word.”

Az looks up at me for confirmation and I take pity at the scene before me. The Illyrian being pinned to the counter looks like he’s about to piss himself.

I sigh before replying, “Let’s not ruin the night. But he’s buying me new drinks.”

And that was that. Az released him and told me to go sit down and not worry myself. I keep an eye on him but can’t help but giggle as the scared shitless man pulls out money and throws it on the counter to the barmaid, Az looming directly behind him. She smirks as she remakes our drinks and I just know she’ll be telling all her girlfriends what happened tonight. It’s not often a stupid drunk gets put in his place like this.

•••••

Aaaannd that’s all I got. I was thinking about Azriel having a mate who helps him learn to love himself, and that starts by addressing his childhood trauma and his inner racism (it’s canon he hates Illyrians) towards himself and his people. If I were to write more of this then that’s basically what it would be about. I don’t believe a romantic partner can just magically fix someone, it takes time and a lot of self reflection but having a stable support person can help. I want to see Azriel in a healthy and stable relationship and that means working on himself. Anyway if you like it let me know, thanks for reading!!

[spiraling-trap]

wanted to make a dn oc then had the idea to take one of the many female characters in dn and make her my oc

so i stole the girl that light went on that one date with and made her my own. She’s inspired by the fact that i want to see light get played by a girl for once

more stuff ab her ⬇️

she’s so good in the manga… in the anime they cut the scene where she just watches the bus jacking and light is like “well looks like our date is over because of that trauma and all” and she’s like “WYM? we’re still going!” like a crazy person

anyway i have a bit written up for her i think she pretends to be one of light’s friends bc she’s a bit obsessed with him but not romantically at all. obsessed in the way that she wants to be him and like steal his skin and wants what he has. but she’s jealous and kinda hates him too because he’s perfect and has it all/everything’s lined up for him unlike her (maybe she’s got no parents or uninvolved ones). idk. and she feels like no one else can see through light but her— she can see his people suit because she also wears a people suit #bpd #autism. so that makes her want to study him more. and to study him from up close she pretends to be a stupid girl with a crush on him because she knows that to light that makes him a moth to a flame

also she follows light to college so she sees all the Hideki Ryuga shit go down. maybe she starts investigating on her own when light literally disappears and doesn’t come to college anymore

ALSO i don’t know if it’s actually canon but i think she was also the girl that light saved from the motorcycle guys in the beginning. i imagine she was stalking light when that happened and doesn’t realize he saved her until later when the bus jacking happens and she realizes that the dangerous men from both scenarios died in the vicinity of light. so then she’s like Oh he has magic powers too now?! the bastard?! and eventually connects him with kira on her own

does any of this make sense outside of my brain

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 5: It's Like That

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.8k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

The mission you guys were called for was in fact, not top secret. That mission was about a week ago now. Your current mission? Also not top secret. 

In fact, the four of you have just wrapped it up. It was in the city, and now, you're all left with what to do for the rest of the day. 

" I think I'll go see a movie. "

Yuuji shares, scrolling through his phone to see the many titles which are currently playing. 

" What about you, Kugisaki? "

" It's still early. I think I'll go see a movie. "

" What about you, Y/N? "

Over the past week, you found yourself growing closer with Megumi. It was quite silly. The Megumi of your universe didn't exactly get along with you all that well. Your Yuuji could stuck to him like glue, but your Megumi and you could not sit in the same room for longer than an hour before the two of you start bickering. (Yes, it went down between the two of you that often.) On the rare days, the two of you would get into a physical fight.

That usually ended with you annoying him to no end, considering your fighting style revolves around other people their movements. It would eventually also escalate with him using his Ten Shadows technique on you (yes, you manage to piss him off that bad, that often.) Which in turn, would send you running. Usually to Sukuna. Not necessarily because he could beat the Ten Shadow technique, but simply because no one but you ever dared to bother Sukuna. It was a simple, unspoken rule. One Gojo loved to disrespect often. 

" Ah, I think I'll join Nobara. "

He nods while you grin, linking arms with Nobara who mirrors your expression. 

" Alright. I'm heading home. "

Moments later, Megumi is on his way home. 

" I'm going to the movies, what about you guys? "

Yuuji asks, waving his phone as you and Nobara are stood on the staircase leading towards the metro station. You let go of her, in turn of facing him. 

" What are you watching? "

" Human earthworm 4." 

He looks so proud as he says that. 

" Who even watches that?! I haven't even seen 1,2 or 3." 

" I think you'd be fine jumping in in 4-" 

Yuuji begins, explaining the plot to her. You cringe. It's not your type of film. 

" -So the theme is actually love! " 

Yuuji exclaims, all excited. You blink.

Ew, worm man. 

" I don't want to see some wormo man. Regardless of the theme. "

" It's human earthworm though. "

" I'm not going. "

" Awe, Y/N, what about you? "

" Uhm, no thanks. That movie franchise is... Not my thing. "

" We're gonna go shopping. Wanna join? "

" I just said I'm going to the movies! "

" Okay, see you later then. "

" Later Yuuji, have fun! "

The two of you walk along for a moment, agreeing about how stupid the whole concept of human earthworm is, when-

" Excuse me, do you know Itadori Yuuji? "

-

Moments later you, Nobara, and a girl whose name is Yuko, find yourselves at a simple cafe, as she explains the situation to you. 

" This is me at our middle school graduation ceremony. "

She hands her phone to Nobara, and you peek over her shoulder. Woah, now that's a glow up. 

" Woah, wait, that was only six months ago! What happened to you? "

" You did have quite the glow up. You're gorgeous!"

" Ah, thank you. I did grow 15 centimeters. And with moving to Tokyo and the stress of changing environments... "

" Woah... You're a real Sato Kuruko. "

" That's Itadori. -"

She's showing the two of you a different picture now. You recognize Yuuji in a different school uniform, only noticing now that he's really growing better into his features.

You hadn't gone to the same middle school as Yuuji in your own universe, instead, you were home schooled with the other kids of your clan. It's where you and Noritoshi learned to get along so well. He was a bastard child, yet next in line as the chief because of his technique. You're rejected because of your technique. 

" On graduation day, I worked up the courage to ask him for a picture. I actually wanted to get his number too, but it was already decided that I would be moving to Tokyo. " 

She continues to explain, her eyes downcast, a little sad about the memory.

" So when I saw Itadori earlier- I thought maybe with how I look now, I might.... "

You and Nobara catch on, giving each other incredulous looks. 

" Wait, Yuko, you mean-"

You begin, looking at her like some sort of silly cartoon, Nobara finishing your sentence for you. 

" - it's like that? "

Yuko replies with the same energy.

" Yes, it's like that. "

Barely a moment later, Nobara is calling someone. Ijichi, who was on his way to drop off Megumi. It doesn't take any effort for the driver to turn around. You doubt Megumi is aware of it.

" Someone who knows Itadori well is on his way here now. Let's hear what he has to say. "

" Uhm, if either of you are also interested in Itadori... "

Yuko starts, though Nobara's deadpan expression pulls a giggle from you. 

" No. "

Her eyes look dead serious as she says so. 

" Even if hell and earth were to dance the lambada, not happening. "

You snort at her words. 

" Yeah, you don't need to worry. I'm not interested either. " 

You smile reassuringly at Yuko. A few moments later, Megumi has arrived at your table, looking agitated. You smile at him. 

" All right, what's the big deal? "

" Hey Megumi, does Itadori have a girlfriend? " 

Nobara doesn't waste time today. She's getting straight into business. 

He raises a brow at her. 

" Hue? "

" This is Ozawa Yuko. She's actually something, something and something like... "

Her explanation is shady, both her and your expression serious. 

He breaks out a sweat, understanding the situation. 

" So it's like that? "

Both you and Nobara nod, sweating the seriousness of the situation as well. 

" Yes, it's like that. "

He ends up sitting down beside you. (Figure out the seating plan yourself, I'm not gonna make it complicated.) With a black coffee. 

You will never understand his preferred taste. 

" I doubt it. He didn't seem particularly upset about moving to Tokyo all of a sudden. And he's got one of those posters hanging up in his room. Anyone with a girlfriend wouldn't put up something like that, right? She wouldn't like that. "

Meanwhile, Nobara seems to be more concerned about his choice of drink. 

" Are you the type who drinks coffee black around girls to show off? Please stop. "

You blink as well, suddenly curious. Was he? 

He's annoyed by her words. 

" Don't forget, you're the one who called me. And I always drink it black. " 

Yuko finally speaks up now, an adorable blush on her face. 

" Um, by the way, do you happen to know what his type is? "

" A tall girl with a big ass. "

Both Megumi and Nobara turn to blink at you. You blink back at them. 

" What? I grew up around him and his- around him. " 

You blush in embarrassment, realizing you could be wrong. There's been enough proof of differences between your universe and this one after all. 

" Well, you're correct either way. He mentioned something about liking tall girls. "

Yuko, Nobara and you seem to communicate telepathically, like some kind of electric signal spreads between the three of you. You clink your glasses together, and Nobara slams her phone on the table. 

" You've got a shot! I'm gonna summon Itadori! You're okay with that right, Yuko?! "

She nods. 

" Yes! "

The messages between them are silly, and fast. And now, all that's left to do is wait. 

Not that you have to wait long. Soon enough Yuuji joins the scene, a paper bag of stuff in his hands. 

" Oh!, Fushiguro's here too? " 

Both you and Nobara blink. That was fast. 

Suddenly, you hurriedly glance at Nobara. She hadn't told him why he needed to come. Hadn't told him about Yuko. There was no way he could recognize her when she changed so much- Nobara seems to realize too, sweating the situation, holding out her hand to quickly introduce the two of them to one another. 

" Itadori! This girl is-"

" Oh!, it's Ozawa. How did you end up here? "

All three of you are impressed. Holding up imaginary 10s for his recognizing skill. 

Yuko and Yuuji end up spending the rest of the afternoon together, with Megumi, Nobara and you tagging along behind them. Megumi even felt soft enough to hold Yuuji's stuff for him. 

" Was that really okay, they could've at least exchanged numbers. "

Megumi points out, as Yuko leaves by train later that afternoon. You agree. Kind of. They had seemed to hit it off after all. 

" She exchanged hers with me, so it'll be fine. More important, Fushiguro, Y/N, I've finally recognized my own feelings. "

Both of you give her a curious glance. 

" Hue? "

Was she about to admit to having feelings for him? You shouldn't be surprised. The two got along really well, after all-

" The idea of Itadori getting a girlfriend before I get a boyfriend really pisses me off. "

Maybe not. You grin at her words, an imaginary embarrassed sweat drop running down your brow. 

Of course she'd say something like that. That sounds more like her. 

Megumi doesn't seem surprised. 

" Is that so? "

" Sorry for the wait! " 

Yuuji jumps back in between you and Nobara. 

" Walk behind me. "

You blink at Nobara's words. 

" Huh, what's this? What're you talking about? "

Yuuji seems confused. A feeling you relate to. Megumi doesn't seem to care. 

" Here. "

He's handing Yuuji back his bag of stuff. 

" Here, while you're at it. "

" Huh? What's this? "

" Wouldn't you feel bad for making a lady carry them? "

She's handing him her own bags now. 

" Sure. "

Yuuji doesn't seem to mind. 

" Want me to carry your stuff too, Y/N? " 

You smile at him, shaking your head. You're only holding one plastic bag loosely between your fingers, the bag full of snacks. 

" Oh, shoot! The movie's about to start, let's go! " 

Yuuji's jogging before any of you actually can check the time. 

" Hey! Wait up! Don't take my stuff with you! There's no way I'm watching some wormo man! "

Yuuji ignores her words, turning to Megumi. 

" Fushiguro, Y/N, wanna grab some popcorn? Fushiguro, you like caramel flavoured right? " 

" Don't just assume we're all going to watch wormo man. "

" I told you all, it's human earthworm. 4! "

-

You regret watching human earthworm 4.

There had been a little too many horror like sound effects and jumps in it, and now you didn't feel like sleeping. Your fear of horror films was a bit childish, but it rarely bothered you. 

And so you find yourself leaving your dorm. You want to make dumplings. But you don't have all the ingredients, so you need to go to a 24h convenient store. 

" What're you doing? " 

Your skin shivers before you jump, turning around to face the intruder who's sneaked up on you. 

" What the- Don't sneak up on me like that! "

Megumi blinks plainly at you. 

" Where are you going at this hour? "

" 24h convenient store. I can't- I'm gonna make dumplings. "

" Why? Do you really need to at this hour? Don't we have some in the freezer from the last package Yuuji got? "

" Yeah, but I want to make them fresh. "

Megumi blinks at you again, before sighing. 

" Okay, well, give me a second to change. I'm coming with you. "

You hadn't even realized that he was in his pijamas. You're in your pijamas too, an oversized sweater and a comfortable pair of leggings. You don't feel bothered enough to change though. 

A few moments later, he returns. 

" Okay, let's go. "

Thankfully, the walk towards the convenience store is short. Only 10 minutes. The silence between the two of you is comfortable, as you walk side by side down the stairs of Jujutsu Tech. 

You eye the forest surrounding the school grounds warily, like something might jump out to attack you any second. Like you don't have powers that literally render every living creature. Megumi glances down at you, realization finally making it's way into his brain. 

" Are you afraid of the dark? "

The wrong realization. But don't worry, he'll get there. 

You blink. 

" Oh, uhm, err- something like that. "

He's admittedly puzzled. So you weren't afraid of the dark. Maybe you've had a bad dream? He doesn't decide to push it. Instead, he softly takes your hand, holding it in his own, distracting you from your fears. 

You glance at him, a blush on your face. You smile gratefully at him, squeezing his hand as your peaceful silence returns. 

It doesn't take you long to get the remaining ingredients, and soon enough, the two of you are back at the dorms, now stood in the kitchen. 

" Thanks. You didn't need to come with me you know? " 

You smile at him as you unpack the bag. He blushes, looking away. 

" I wasn't going to let you go alone at this hour. "

He mumbles it, but it's just loud enough for you to hear. 

He eyes you preparing, before moving to stand at your side, nudging you away. 

" I'll cut up the vegetables. "

" Ah, thank you. "

There's a certain peace that resides between the two of you as you work in the kitchen together. It was nice, getting to know him this way. Your Megumi and you would've been bickering already. 

Once you've set the dough, you help in cutting up the remaining ingredients. Noticing he's deciding on the amount of ginger to cut up, you smile at him. 

" You can add extra if you'd like. "

He raises a brow at you. 

" You like extra ginger? "

" Not necessarily, but you do, right? "

He blinks, his eyes open in amazement. How did you know that? 

" Does your universe's Megumi like extra ginger too? "

You shrug. 

" Not sure. We don't actually get along that well in my universe.- I noticed you ordered that chicken dish that's ginger based, and how you were measuring just now. I just put one and one together and guessed. "

The quick smile you send leaves him blushing once more. He smiles at you. He hadn't realized you were so perceptive. 

His eyes return to his chopping work. 

" Tsumiki used to make dumplings with me when we were younger. "

You smile as he softens around you, before your features sharpen. 

" Oh, right, I completely forgot about it, but I wondered if I could visit Tsumiki sometime? I healed her in my universe, you see. "

Megumi's eyes widen, the grip on the knife he's holding loosening. Were you that powerful? You mentioned being able to use reverse cursed energy, but were you really able to apply that to illness as well? 

" I- you healed her? With your reverse cursed technique? Why? I thought we didn't get along in your universe? "

You nod. 

" That's true. Our relationship in my universe is hard to explain. I wouldn't borrow the you from my universe my charger, but if he'd need a kidney I'd offer it. We originally did get along. Until something silly happened. Gojo introduced us at a young age. "

Megumi's eyes remain wide. In all honesty, he was mostly still surprised that you might be able to heal her. He also didn't exactly understand how your universe's version of himself didn't like him. You were amazing. And if he were to be selfish, he wished you'd stay. 

" Hey, you guys are still up- what are you making? "

Both of you turn to see Yuuji standing in the kitchen's entryway, holding an empty bowl he must be returning. The moment is gone, the conversation something you'll return to later. 

" Yeah, we're making dumplings, wanna join? "

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Though We're Strangers 'Til Now

And now for something completely different! Now I want you guys to do me a favour here, and I need you to picture this fic as having like, a BBC Saturday night family show budget. I’m specifically talking Atlantis, but if you’ve not seen Atlantis (like most people), think Merlin. I wrote Edwin and Charles’ voices entirely as I’d write them in canon-verse, with nearly no regard to the fact I was transplanting them into ancient Greece, so it’s VERY important to me that you embrace the Camp. This is a styrofoam dungeon. Charles is about to meet his destiny in a labyrinth that’s just a quarry in Wales. The historical outfits all have zips up the back. Get on board with the vibe. This one goes out to @every-moment-a-different-sound, who not only made me aware of Painland week as a thing but also approached me for a collab! Go check out their FUCKING GORGEOUS GIFS for this fic!!! This fic quite literally wouldn’t exist without them, Robin you fuckin' rule 💛 4.7k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

The dungeon was a proper dingy place. Charles wondered if that's where they got the name from. Dingy, dungeon. Too similar to be a coincidence, right?

Lying on his back on the hard wood pallet, head on his hands, he stared at the pale moonlight bleeding through the window. 'Window' was being a bit generous; it was more of a slit in the wall. Narrow, barred, so high he could've stood on tiptoes and barely brushed it with his fingertips. But at least it was big enough to let in that light. He supposed he was lucky. Between the sliver of moonlight and the sputtering candle in the hallway past the wall of bars, he was bloody spoiled. He didn't know exactly where they were sending him tomorrow, but he had a pretty strong hunch that it would be dark. The kind of dark that drove men mad. Maybe the madness would get him before the bloody great beast in the tunnels got the chance.

Seemed a bit off, really. Putting him in the dingy dungeon when he bloody volunteered for this. Maybe they thought he'd change his mind and leg it in the night. Any half-sensible person would, wouldn't they? No one had ever given Charles an earful for having common sense, though. Usually the opposite.

No running away for him, that's for sure. He was bedded down for the night, just him and a handful of snoring cellmates. Despite the panic and crying, the six other lads had managed to drift into some kind of sleep, however uneasy. Not Charles, though. Too much on his mind. The stupid idea that brought him here in the first place. The near certainty that he'd fail, in the end, and he’d have no one but himself to blame for his bloody demise.

Wasn’t all bleak thoughts, though. After all, there was always him.

The prince.

He closed his eyes, letting it all play out in his head again. Stepping off the boat, being 'greeted' (shackled and marched to the dungeons) by the 'welcoming committee’ (royal guard). Him and thirteen other boys and girls, thanked like heroes and handled like criminals. The king in all his fancy regalia, booming his solemn gratitude to the brave youths for their sacrifice — as if any one of them but Charles had any choice in it. And standing there, at the king's back...

Look, Charles may have had more important things to think about, but he knew a fit lad when he saw one.

Fit didn't even cover it. The boy was just about the most gorgeous thing Charles had ever seen — or ever would see. Unless he spotted a prettier one before he died tomorrow, that is. Bit unlikely.

There was just something about him, the prince. Charles wasn't even into the posh sort, generally. Like with the more well-to-do lads from his own town — something about the baked-in entitlement soured them. Made them ugly, even if they were objectively alright looking. He could smile politely and play nice, but he’d sooner kiss a frog than a rich merchant’s kid. And a prince was a pretty big step up from a merchant's son, wasn't he? By rights he ought to be even worse. Charles probably didn't even register as a human to him. He wasn’t worth wasting a thought on.

Except Charles could still picture him perfectly, in his head. He could play out the whole welcome start to finish. How Charles' heart, all shrivelled in fear, had jumpstarted soon as he clapped eyes on the prince.

"Charles..."

He'd had dark hair all perfectly combed into an inky shine, almost prettier than the gold crown on top of it. Eyes like sea glass, clear and green and shining with a cunning light; eyes that had scanned the line of offerings and landed on Charles. Fixed him with such an intense, curious scrutiny he'd actually felt himself blush.

Hadn't Charles seen him somewhere before? That chin, that nose, those high cheekbones? He could've sworn he'd walked past him at a temple somewhere, carved from pristine marble. He could see him so clearly in his mind's eye, surely he must've known him all his life.

"Charles...?"

If he concentrated, really concentrated, he could even hear his voice...

"Charles Rowland!"

Blimey, that was scary. That sounded real.

Charles blinked his eyes open and frowned. He let his head flop to the side and looked across the cell, where the stone wall gave way to bars.

There, framed by iron and flickering candlelight, there he stood. Pretty as a picture — baffling as a dream.

Charles sat up, slow, cautious. He almost said something proper stupid, like 'what's a nice boy like you doing in a dungeon like this?'

"Um," he fumbled. "Evenin'?"

Mm. Not much better, really, was it?

"Evening, your highness?" he corrected himself, with a wince. Gods, his old man would've walloped him good and proper for talking to a royal like that.

Prince Edwin, however, didn't sneer or snap or even walk away. It was hard to see his face, at a distance in the gloom, but he almost looked amused. Charles thought he could see the barest shadow of a lifted lip, anyway.

"Good evening," said the prince. He said it so quiet, barely above a whisper, but his crisp tone carried regardless. He cocked his head slightly and beckoned with a finger. "Might I have a word?"

Charles glanced behind himself. Just on the off-chance there was another Charles Rowland he didn't know about squeezed onto the narrow bed with him. There wasn't, obviously, and he was a good few feet from any of his sleeping cellmates. No mistaking who the prince was after. He swallowed, stood up, and crept across the uneven flagstones, stepping over the sprawled legs of another boy.

As he neared, as the situation sank in and the prince came into focus, a new bundle of nerves started kicking off. Nothing like the anxious dread that had been stewing in his gut all night, the 'oh, gods, they're feeding me to a monster in the morning' nerves. No, this was different. More familiar but also, weirdly, worse than the monster dread. Fuck, but this lad was gorgeous. Not even the dungeon gloom could hide it. He was almost blinding to look at — and now those clever eyes were fixed right on Charles, no one else. Nowhere to hide. Fuck, Charles probably had sweat and cellar grime all over his face, and all!

Charles came to a standstill, toes almost touching the bars. Up close, he could see that him and the prince were about the same height. Edwin might've had the advantage by an inch or so, but maybe that was just his perfect posture. Spine straight and shoulders back, he regarded Charles with his head curiously cocked and his hands steepled. For a royal, he wasn't dressed all that flashy. Hadn't gone in for any jewellery besides the gilded circlet on his head. And under the blue silk chlamys clasped at his shoulder, his chiton was a simple white, clean and sharp and draped neatly to knee length. Expensive, pristine, put-together, but not exactly ostentatious. Mind you, that's just the sliver of outfit that Charles could see — because the prince had topped the whole thing off with a thick, practical brown cloak. A peacock disguised as a pigeon.

After a moment's quiet contemplation, the prince finally spoke. "I'm told you volunteered," he said. He kept his voice down, but it stayed crisp and clear. Highborn through-and-through. Probably wasn't even capable of mumbling.

Charles supposed it was a bit unusual, but unusual enough to bring a prince skulking down to the dungeons? He reckoned he was right about Edwin's eyes, that cleverness in them — he wasn't just a pretty face under a crown. He wanted to know things. He was staring at Charles like he wanted to pick him apart, understand him.

"Yeah," Charles answered. He forced a grin. "Not my best idea."

The prince blinked and leaned a little closer, intrigued. "Why in the world would you volunteer for this?"

His attention was sort of a lot — but it felt... good. Charles wanted to keep it. Hold onto it. He wanted this clever, gorgeous lad to think he was the most fascinating thing in the room.

Charles shrugged. "I can fight. I can take a hit. Seemed like the right thing to do. The decent thing, yeah?"

Edwin narrowed his eyes. "You’d forfeit your life to... give the beast a fight for its food?"

Charles shifted on his feet. "Not... exactly."

The prince watched him, all expectant. Charles sighed.

"Years it's been going on," he said, barely a mumble — Edwin leaned a little closer still to listen. "Lads and lasses being packed off, fed to that thing to keep it happy. Not right, is it? And I thought, well..."

He'd thought a lot of things. He'd thought well, he was already getting the shit beaten out of him every other day, so what's a little mauling on top of it? He'd thought about being his father's son, with his father's temper, and how maybe that could be a good thing for once. He'd thought about how things could change for him if he came back — and about who would even miss him if he didn't. He'd thought of all those kids less deserving than him, sent miles from home to be ripped to shreds. Sent away from bright futures and families that loved them. Gentle types who'd never hurt a fly. Kids who'd never learned to take a beating. Kids who didn't have the anger to keep them alive. Kids who weren't monster enough to survive the real thing.

"I thought, well, I'm pretty good in a scrap," he said, brightly, plastering on a smile. "Pretty stubborn. Thought if I went down there, maybe I could..."

"Could what?"

Charles raised his eyebrows.

Edwin looked at him blankly.

Charles rolled his eyes, held up one hand, and punched his fist into it twice.

Edwin's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You mean to... slay the minotaur?"

"Told you it wasn't my best idea," said Charles.

"You have a talent for understatement," said Edwin, a sharp hiss. His voice had quickened and thinned into a hushed, incredulous patter. "I'd go so far as to describe that idea as fatuous, hubristic, and downright suicidal!"

Charles snorted. "Yeah. Sounds about right." He leaned his shoulder against the bars, brought his face closer to the prince's — which was such a brilliant idea it immediately gave him a really, really bad one. So bad it was impossible to resist.

He gave him a lax, lopsided grin — the one that he could bring out back home to make the girls giggle. "Be good if it worked, though, wouldn't it?"

Coming onto a bloody prince like he was some blushing farm lad... well, it probably wasn't a worse idea than throwing himself into a minotaur's labyrinth, but it probably wasn't much better, either. But what did it matter? They couldn't punish him, could they — they were already feeding him to a monster in the morning. What did he have to lose? Why not take a crack at the handsome prince with the pretty eyes? Sod it, it was his last night on Earth.

Edwin, to Charles' immense glee, actually seemed to get a little pink in the face. His eyes darted away and back again. "Yes, well..." He cleared his throat and straightened his cloak with a sharp tug of the front. "Have you a plan? Tactics? A weapon, at the very least?"

"Um. Well. No, not really." He dropped his fist on the bars once, twice, mulling it over. "But, I have been told my smile's pretty disarming!"

If his clumsy flirting hadn't been enough to break through the regal composure, that would've done it. Edwin's mouth dropped open a little, his brows drawing close together as he stared at Charles in abject disbelief. "Dear gods," he said, voice light and brittle. "You're doomed."

Charles chuckled, resting his forehead against the bars. "Yeah. Suppose so. Won't go down without a fight though, eh?"

He looked up through his eyelashes and found Edwin still staring, lips parted just a bit. Fuck, he had nice lips. Kissable. Charles reckoned he’d miss kissing when he was dead. What was the sentence for stealing a kiss from a prince — was it worse than death by minotaur? He might be willing to risk it.

Edwin tore his gaze away and glanced down the hall, first one way, then the other. Furtive. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. "Charles," he whispered. "Are your cellmates all asleep?"

Pulse quickening, Charles forced his eyes away from the prettiest person in the room to have a glance at the others. Everyone looked the same as they had before. Same chorus of snores and soft breaths and muttered, whimpered nightmares. "Yeah. Yeah, I reckon so."

"Right. Excellent." Edwin cleared his throat again and crowded closer to the bars.

Charles' heart was racing. He couldn't lean any closer to the bars than he already was but he wanted to. He didn't mean to, but he bit his lip, eyes flickering down to Edwin's mouth.

Edwin took another wary glance behind him, and tugged his cloak back. He reached inside. His hand closed around something under his arm and drew it out — something long and wrapped in leather.

Charles caught his breath.

"Take it," Edwin ordered, holding the hilt of the sword to the bars and looking Charles in the eye. "Quickly, and quietly."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He grabbed it, his fingers grazing Edwin's. Gods, he even had beautiful hands. Smooth on the back but a bit calloused on the pads. Didn't escape Charles' notice that the blade, though heavy, seemed to be a familiar weight in his hands.

"Cheers, mate," Charles breathed, drawing the cumbersome thing through the gap. If he was careful, he reckoned he could stash it under his thin cloak without anyone knowing.

He hadn't meant to call the gorgeous boy (who also happened to be fucking royalty) mate, but if Edwin was offended he didn't show it. In fact he ducked his head in a bashful little dip. It was so endearing Charles had to do another quick pros-and-cons list in his head about the risks of snogging him through the bars.

"Well," said Edwin, a forced lightness in his tone. "If you must embark upon this fool's errand, you must have the proper equipment."

Charles let out a ragged breath. "Thank you," he said, sincere, as he slid the scabbard through his belt. He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head. "To be honest, I've... I've never been more scared in my life."

Edwin's shrewd gaze softened. His whole face did. It actually bowled Charles over a little bit, the difference. He felt like he ought to look away, like he was seeing something he shouldn't. A prince shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not him. Like he was something special. Something he was in awe of. "I can only imagine."

Charles bit his lip. "Less scared, now," he said, fidgeting with the hilt of the sword. Even though he felt a bit like he'd been flayed open and laid at the prince's feet, he still managed a wink. "Reckon I'll show that big bugger what's what with this thing, don't you?"

The prince’s eyes twinkled over his small, indulgent smile. "Oddly enough... yes. I believe you just might." He seemed to catch himself, a pretty blush high on his cheeks as he schooled his expression back into something a bit more lofty. "And quite a feather in your cap it will be. That beast has been a thorn in my father's side for years, holding the kingdom to ransom."

Edwin's gaze flickered over Charles, head to toe, and the pretty blush deepened. "If you were to end its reign of terror, you'd be more than deserving of a handsome reward."

"Oh, yeah?" said Charles. If he sounded breathless, it's 'cause he was. "What sort of reward?"

He felt dazed. He must've been dreaming. Five minutes ago he was accepting his fate, and now he'd been brought a fighting chance. By a gorgeous prince. Who was fucking flirting with him. They must've knocked his head on the bars when they shoved him in the cell — he was probably lying in the corner, drooling and babbling.

Edwin's eyes were restless, darting from Charles' face to his feet. His throat bobbed around a dry swallow. He looked too real to be a dream — but also too good to be true. His hand lifted, fingers resting on an iron bar between them.

"Well," he said, sounding pretty bloody breathless himself. "You could take your pick."

If this wasn't a dream, it was definitely a trick. Some rich kid teasing him, waiting to pull away at the last second and laugh at him for being so easy to string along. Or waiting for an excuse to run to his daddy and bag Charles a fate worse than death for getting fresh with him.

Except for whatever reason, he didn't believe that. Couldn't. For some reason, he trusted Edwin. Felt like he knew him. Like he'd always known him. And he knew he was kind. Not necessarily nice, but kind. For whatever reason he knew Edwin wasn't the sort to mess around with someone's feelings — or pretend to be interested when he wasn't.

Why he'd be interested in Charles of all people was another thing, but... sod it. Charles was probably gonna die tomorrow, anyway. Why not pretend it was possible for a minute? What the fuck did he have to lose?

Feeling once again like the undisputed king of bad decisions, Charles took a breath, and put his hand on top of Edwin's. He almost couldn't believe his luck when Edwin didn't pull away. His hand was soft — like the little gasp he let out when their skin touched.

Swallowing past his dry mouth, Charles laced their fingers. He let them lay there, woven on the bars; the warp and weft of it felt so right he wondered how they hadn't been doing this for years. How'd he gone this long, not realising how empty his hands were without Edwin's tangled up inside them?

He looked at Edwin's face and saw all his own thoughts reflected. Saw Edwin staring at their hands like they were a bloody marvel. Like the last piece of a puzzle had clicked into place. His face was so open, so alive — so gently amazed and Charles had never wanted to kiss someone more in his life.

Charles laughed, quiet, awed. "Handsome prize, alright."

That earned him another quick, coy duck of Edwin's head — but Charles could see him preening clear as day. "Be sure you're alive to claim it," he said, soft and serious. He squeezed Charles' hand once before breaking the hold.

Charles sketched a lazy salute to distract his hand from how empty it felt. "No dying. Right-o."

Edwin smiled. A proper smile; a quick flash of teeth breaking through his tight-lipped, regal composure. Charles would've fought the bloody titans to get another glimpse of it.

"You are... odd," said Edwin, matter-of-factly. "And quite mad, I suspect."

"...Cheers?"

Humming, Edwin reached into his cloak once more. "There is just one other thing..."

He brought out something small from a pouch at his waist. Something round, with a leather cord threaded through the middle and tied off in a loop. Edwin held it aloft, thumb and forefinger pinched through the handle. The little round something glowed silky gold in the candlelight, and Charles squinted at it.

"...String?" he asked.

Edwin nodded, reaching into the cell to take Charles' hand and draw it through the bars. His touch lingered as he placed the generous clew of fine, shimmering string in Charles' palm.

"I had the idea that if you were to unspool it behind you, perhaps you might be able to navigate the labyrinth with greater ease." Head bowed, he looked at Charles through his lashes. Pretty, fluttering things they were, charcoal black. "So that when you slay the beast, you might find your way back."

Charles gawped at him. "Mate. That's proper smart."

Edwin preened again — actually, he preened more than he had when Charles' complimented his looks. Handy to know. "Yes, I thought it rather a sensible idea. I spun it myself; I’ve been experimenting with the tensile strengths of different fibres. It shan’t break."

Charles grinned, closing his hand around the clew — and Edwin's fingers, too. "Brains and beauty, eh?" he said. "Where've you been all my life?"

Edwin went pinker, his eyes twinkled. Warmer than the candlelight, brighter than the moon.

Charles would have to offer up a prayer tonight to any god who might be listening. He'd do anything, give them anything, if they only promised to get him through tomorrow alive. He needed at least a thousand more days ahead of him, just to spend finding more and ingenious ways of making this boy smile at him.

Soon, too soon, Edwin sighed, reluctantly extricating his hand from Charles'. "I must go," he said, apologetic. "Questions will be asked if I'm discovered down here in the dead of night."

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course." Charles let his hand fall to his side, clenching it around the thread — still warm from Edwin's hand. He laughed, softly. "Well, um. Thanks for... dropping in?"

"And thank you for your discretion," said Edwin, raising his eyebrows as he drew his cloak back around him. "I'm sure I need not impress upon you the fact that I was never here."

Charles mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Good. Very good." Edwin shifted his weight between his feet a moment, finger lifting, mouth opening as if he had more to say. But whatever it was, he thought better of it. He drew his hands into fists in front of him, pressed together knuckle to knuckle, and offered a tight smile instead. "Well... best of luck, Charles Rowland. I truly hope you find fortune on your side."

With a stiff bob of his head, he turned fluidly on his heel to walk away. And it hit Charles again, hard, right between the eyes. The possibility that tomorrow could be his last day alive. A few minutes ago, the idea hadn't bothered him much.

Fuck. It bothered him, now.

"Edwin," he said, almost losing control of his volume as desperation sunk its hooks into him. He grabbed the bars, white-knuckled. "Edwin, wait —"

And he did. He waited, his back to Charles, his posture so, so perfect. Still as a statue.

Charles swallowed. "Can..."

Edwin turned his head, just slightly.

Charles' courage abandoned him. He huffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Nothing."

Of course, if there's one thing Charles knew about Edwin by now, it was that he couldn't resist a mystery. He turned to face Charles, eyes bright and curious. "Is there something else you require?"

Charles forced a smile. "You've already given me two gifts, mate. Bit greedy to ask for another one, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Edwin paused, and took a cautious step closer. "But, between ourselves... I can see little harm in the asking."

Charles' grin bloomed into something more sincere, something real. "No standing on ceremony, eh?"

Edwin's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I hardly see the point. I think perhaps you and I might dispense with formalities."

"Right."

Well then. Why not? Last night on Earth, and all that.

Charles ducked his head, laughing softly at himself. "Well. I was gonna be a bit cheeky, actually. Ask you to gimme a kiss for luck. But I reckon that's a bit — mmf!"

Quick, quicker than Charles could've imagined, Edwin was right there; reaching through the bars, taking Charles' face in his hands, and pulling him into a bruising kiss.They were lucky neither of them broke their noses against the iron strips.

Charles startled, gasped, so blindsided he didn't even know what to do with his hands — so he ended up just sort of clinging onto the bars. But soon enough his eyes fluttered closed, his breath rushed out of him and he melted. He kept his grip on the bars, though, holding on tight just to keep his knees from buckling. Edwin's lips were soft, and hotter than fire. His kiss was clumsy and overeager and not even slightly what Charles would've expected from someone so elegant, so refined. But he tasted of honey and home and Charles could've got lost in him, happily. Charles felt like he'd been shoved against the wall and plundered, in the best possible way. He felt like Edwin was everywhere, filling his senses. Hard not to feel wrapped up in him, with the way Edwin had his hands cupped round Charles' face, covetous and claiming. Like Charles belonged to him.

Fuck, maybe he did. Maybe he always had.

Edwin broke the kiss, but he didn't let Charles go. Just pulled back a little, still framing Charles' face with his fingers. His eyes were dark, hooded, his pretty eyelashes fluttering as he stroked Charles' cheek with his thumb. Face flushed, breathing hot and fast, gazing at Charles like he could devour him with his eyes. Charles shivered under the possessive weight of his gaze. He felt seen, admired, treasured. He felt owned.

He wanted more. More, more, until he suffocated under it.

Edwin took a shuddering inhale. "Come back to me," he said. And just because his voice was high and wavering with feeling didn't make it any less commanding. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

Charles nodded, in a daze. "I will," he promised.

He was as surprised as anyone to find he actually meant it.

Edwin nodded, and pulled him in close once more. Quick as you like, for just one more kiss — this one dry and fleeting, almost chaste. Bit of a departure from the one before, but somehow all the more devastating. Charles could feel Edwin's palms against his jaw, pressing so tight they ought to bruise. He hoped they would. A sword and a string weren't enough; he wanted everything Edwin could give him. Every tangible reminder that this was real, wasn't just a mad dream.

When that kiss broke, so did Edwin's hold. When he stepped away, he went all the way. And with one last lingering, longing look, he was gone, fading into the night. A mirage. A ghost.

And like a broken amphora, Charles remained right where Edwin had left him. Off-kilter, rooted to the spot. His outer shell shattered; his insides pooling at his feet for all to see.

~

It would be a sombre morning, just as the others had been. A familiar and predictable tragedy; as it always was, and always shall be.

At dawn's early light, just as they always had, seven young men and seven young women would be led — marched, bullied, carried — to the mouth of the labyrinth. There, the trembling gathering would be ushered into the embrace of the earth and stone. Pushed by the merciless hands of a royal guard, who'd long learned to look past the blood upon them.

But on this occasion, quite without the guards' knowledge, one youth would hang back from the crowd. From his cloak he would draw a small token, round and bright like a golden apple. A ball of fine yarn — spun in strong, beautiful fibres by strong, beautiful hands. He would find the end of the thread and fasten it, tightly, to an old iron ring within the threshold.

Then, with the clew unspooling from his fingers, painting a trail behind him like a steady drip of molten gold, he would walk into the jaws of death. Not with fear, not even with resignation, but with purpose. He was no hapless sacrifice, no tragic victim. He was a youth who'd grown accustomed to treading lightly through the dark, lest the monster in his house leap from the shadows. A youth with steel in his hand, and his own monster in his belly; a monstrous rage, and monstrous desire. A hunger to rival that of the minotaur’s.

A youth with a promise to keep in the dark; and a path waiting to lead him back to the light.

~~

A ball of thread is known as a clew or, in an alternative spelling, a clue. To this day, we talk about following the ‘clues’ to discover something, and it’s all thanks to the story of Theseus and Ariadne’s thread. — things I didn’t even know when I came up with this idea but make me insane… everything is connected… detective boys forever… Thanks for reading guys! You know I adore your comments 💛 and don't forget to give Robin's amazing gifs some love as well! Dunno if I'll get anything posted tomorrow, but if I do it'll either be something much shorter or maybe some sketches. I will defo see you for another fic on day 4, though! Any encouragement very much welcomed, it's been a rough couple of weeks💛 Painland Week Prompt List

[princeblue]

Would Sanemi be as hostile towards Genya if he was a girl? Would he hate seeing Tanjirou near her?

Ooohh bit of a complex question for me to answer so this’ll require a bit of a ramble, but essentially yes and no. I don’t particularly imagine Sanemi being less cruel towards a female genya than he would be towards canon Genya. But I don’t see him being more cruel to her either for being a woman, I just think he’d play into whatever he has into his hands. And unfortunately being a woman/girl means you have a lot more for the world to use against you. Especially in taisho era Japan.

For example, slut shaming her, calling her a whore, etc etc. are all very plausible things that Sanemi would do to a female genya in the post canon sense, because if he’s not above blinding her to drive away then why would he be above slut shaming her to drive her away, especially if it’s something the men in their childhood/kyogo used to do to torture her and Sanemi always protected her from it. So if Sanemi is the one now telling her these horrible things, then she must surely recognize her big brother hates her/does not want her in his life <— his thought process.

There’s also the fact that in taisho era japan, women could only get married if a father, or male figure in the family, so sanemi in this case. If he allowed it, so he could also hold that over her head and personally pick who he would want her to marry and so and so on. Another example would be Sanemi telling Genya he’ll forgive her after the eye debacle thing as long as she quits the core and “and then I’ll personally pick out a suitor for you to marry.” Since his whole thing is wanting genya to be married off and to grow old and all that shit. (But not really when his baby starts growing up)

Which would probably be disstressing to her for a number of reasons, no.1 she’d want to marry who she wants to marry, no.2, she doesn’t want to be married so soon she wants to reconcile with her big brother and grow up with him and then be a woman and then start picking out suitors.

Again, to me this isn’t really sanemi being more cruel towards a different version of genya but I’m sure that’s how people will take it anyways. To me this is just sanemi utilizing whats at his disposal. If all of this applied to canon genya off the bat then he would immediately use it too.

But anyway as for seeing her around Tanjirou/any males for that matter? Yeah, I think he’d hate it. Saying that dynamics don’t shift upon your gender is stupid, your agab plays a tremendous role in how you grow up and how you’re perceived and how your relationships grow with the people around you.

He would hate to see her around Tanjirou because he’s a demon slayer, because he has actual literal personal connections to Muzan which is the strongest demon in the world. And yes, because he’s a boy. He’d see a boy around his sister and think all of these things about how he’s dangerous (I even have a fanfic on this where he confronts Tanjirou for courting canon genya on my ao3 btw it’s called only the wind can whisper his name) and blah blah but most importantly his mind would zero in on a boy is around my baby sister and all those fun big brother instincts would come swindling in because he got so focused on slaying demons for her and viewing her as just a little baby, he forgot that other men/boys would view her as something much more grown and fun.

But that wouldn’t be an immediate realization or thought for sanemi with canon genya, it would take observing to realize Tanjirou likes genya before he goes a boy likes my baby brother and then all those types of big brother instincts come in.

And similarly enough, he would worry more about the type of men she would take interest in, would she marry someone like kyogo? Would they hurt her? Use her for nothing more than a breeding cattle like Shizu was treated? Or would she marry a demon slayer and always be second priority and be widowed so very young. Or would she marry someone too weak and have to take all the brunt of the burdens, or would she strike gold and be married to someone who Actually likes her.

I don’t see sanemi trusting her to pick someone good and kind like he would trust canon genya to pick someone good and kind.

But I think sanemi would hate seeing Tanjirou near canon genya anyway for all those reasons listed above, I do change a few things here and there for when I write male genya & sanemi and when I write female genya & sanemi because once again, dynamics, behavior, and how you’re perceived all change based upon your agab. But that’s the fun in genderbending to me tbh, what would change about this character if they were the opposite gender, but how would they still be completely themselves. It’s like a game and challenge for me. And genya just so happens to be mine (and Sanemi’s) pretty princess.

[sundrop-writes]

Shared Trauma

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

Gar had a very hard day. You know you can’t take away the pain, so you try your best to distract him from it instead.

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 1, Episode 7.

Word Count: 3,600

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst, mentions of trauma/PTSD - Gar kills someone for the first time and is very upset about it (as in the canon), friends to lovers, takes place during Season 1 Episode 7 (“Asylum”), descriptions of canon level violence, this is a smut fic, the reader character is implied to be fat, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, this isn’t a hard sub/dom relationship but there is sub/dom undertones, Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘good boy’ and he really likes it, tiddy sucking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, the reader rides Gar, creampie, quick/desperate sex. I believe that’s everything. Most of the focus here is on the emotional side of things and not the smut so if you wanna see more PWP, definitely let me know.

A/N: fic is titled after a Pierce The Veil song because I have been obsessed with the new album, and I think it really fits here. Having a trauma with someone, but it just draws you closer together and makes you seek comfort in them. I did consider making up a mission that wasn’t in the canon for this, but I am always drawn to how sad, wet, and pathetic he is after killing the scientist, especially if we’re doing sub!Gar - he seems especially subby and in need of comfort.

...

When you woke up alone, you weren’t entirely surprised. 

Of course you missed Gar’s presence beside you in bed. But you hadn’t exactly expected him to be sleeping peacefully after the day the two of you had. 

You and Gar were always the type of best friends to share a bed. Both of you sought the kind of comfort that could only come from cuddling close to the warm body of a safe person. Most often, you could only fall asleep beside each other. 

It had been that way since he had first been taken in by Doctor Caulder and he had come to you for comfort after he had woken up sorely missing his parents. On that first night, you had fallen asleep cradling him, and pretty much every night since then, the two of you shared a bed without question. 

The two of you were just intensely affectionate people, and you saw nothing wrong with expressing your friendship through those simple touches. It was just friendly, after all. 

The two of you always hugged each other tight and held hands while walking in public. There were many times when Gar put his arm around you or kissed you on the forehead, or times when you kissed him on the cheek. You weren’t shy about expressing your very platonic love for your best friend (at least, that’s what you had to tell yourself). 

The two of you weren’t romantically involved - you were just very close best friends. 

No matter what others thought when they looked at you, having those stereotypes in their minds about a guy and girl not being able to be ‘just friends’. Even if you wanted to play into that stereotype so badly with him - even if you wanted all of those people to be right. You would never risk ruining your friendship with him just because of some annoying crush. You were very good at keeping all of your stupid feelings trapped inside of your chest. 

Especially on days like this. When life got hardest, he needed you to be there more as a friend than anything else. And you needed him too. 

It was one of the reasons that he had gotten into bed with you that night, despite the fact that he scoffed at the very mention of trying to sleep. He wanted to be there for you. So you really weren’t surprised when you woke up and the bed was cold, void of his presence. Because of course, he couldn’t sleep. 

It had been a long, hectic, shitty day. 

After everything that had happened, you weren’t even really ‘sleeping’ yourself. 

You were drifting on the edge of consciousness, so exhausted from the day that your body was trying to forcibly knock you out. Between Kory and Dick screwing loudly on one side and Rachel and her birth mother chattering brightly and even crying on the other side, you had been having a very hard time falling asleep. That, and the horrors of the day still flashing through your mind. It made for a deadly cocktail that kept you awake. If not for the pure exhaustion of day’s events weighing you down - then you probably wouldn’t have closed your eyes at all. 

When you came back into a hard consciousness this time, though, you missed the feeling of Gar’s arm around your waist. You instantly missed the feeling of his pleasant warmth at your back - cradling you, making you feel safe. 

Before you even had your fully eyes open, you were out of bed yourself. It was almost an instinct, being so entirely drawn to him. You wandered out to the larger living space of the very expensive condo ‘safehouse’ with your socked feet on the cold floor. You clutched at your own arms under the loose sleeves of your oversized sleep shirt as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

You wondered in the back of your mind what the weather was like outside and if Dick had turned on the heat before going to bed. Then you had to wonder if adjusting the thermostat was even a concern in anyone’s mind after such a long day. It was probably only on your mind now that you were missing your human heater. 

You found Gar sitting on the couch. 

He had his oversized green headphones on, his phone screen providing the only real light in the room - aside from the everpresent glow of the city that leaked in from the tall glass panels that could be called walls in the ultra modern house. He was holding the screen inches away from his face as he slumped back against the unused couch. 

He was likely making an imprint of himself that would be the only ‘lived in’ essence of the overwhelming cold, expensive atmosphere of the place. From the sideways tilt of the screen and the way his thumbs were moving, you easily guessed that he was playing some kind of game. Something to distract his mind from the day’s events still playing there on repeat like a bad movie. 

He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that Dick had given him, dug out of a drawer of clothing that was apparently always kept in the place in case a need for it should come up. Just something else the ‘safehouse’ stocked, like food, medical supplies, and monetary currency from all different countries (because Bruce was rich and paranoid enough to be prepared for ‘any scenario’). 

Gar had paired the pants with one of your tee shirts. 

Something that was slightly big on him even with his natural muscle mass filling it out, bright tie-dye and worn-in cotton. It was purely you. Having the fabric draped over his body did make him feel at least somewhat at ease because it was soaked in your natural smell. It made him feel close to you even when he had gotten out of bed. 

He hadn’t wanted to bother you with his tossing and turning or the bright glowing light of his phone screen when he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly. 

He felt your presence in the room, but he didn’t look up until you crept further toward him, steering into his hazy peripheral view. He shrugged off the headphones as he looked up, locking eyes with you over the top of his phone. Your heart ached as you saw that expression so well illuminated by the sharp white light from the screen. He had the face of a kicked puppy, big wide eyes staring you down. Especially because he was making a clear effort not to let his mouth curl into a deep whimpering frown. 

You knew that the events of the day had been particularly hard on him. 

Of course, there was the obvious. The mental exhaustion and fear of being kidnapped and held hostage. The pulsating adrenaline of wondering if he was going to come out alive, on top of the worry he felt for you, Rachel, Dick, and Kory. The intense physical torture he had suffered at the hands of ‘scientists’ controlled by a doomsday cult. 

But on top of all of it, he had experienced something far worse. Something that you knew was far more taxing on his mind. 

He had killed someone for the first time. 

You feared that he was too gentle for killing. Even with the amazing power he wielded. 

Gar - someone who protested eating meat because he hated the idea of an animal being harmed for the sake of his nutrition. Gar - someone who always scooped up spiders and household pests to bring them outside because in his opinion, even the smallest of creatures deserve peace. 

You knew that he was someone who never planned on using his powers to truly harm anyone. 

But the moment the choice had been presented to him - to use his powers to harm someone, or to let you be harmed - it hadn’t really been a choice in his mind at all. 

You had been backed into a corner. You thought you had been clever, breaking out of the room they had locked you in with nothing more than an earring as a lockpick. But without a weapon and without a plan, Gar saw them threatening you and became blind with rage. 

Before he truly knew what was happening, he tasted flesh. 

A very large part of him didn’t regret it. He would choose your life over the life of someone unknown - someone who was going to hurt you - any day of the week. He knew that, if given the same choice, he would do it all over again. 

But there was another part inside of him that kept gnawing with guilt. Another part that said he was wrong, that said there should have been some other way. Something inside of him that said he was now just the villain in someone else’s story - that he wasn’t any better than the people who tried to hurt you in the first place. 

In a lot of ways, that voice said, he was worse than them. 

That voice made it difficult for him to sleep. 

“Can’t sleep?” You hummed out, approaching the couch to come and sit beside him. 

Gar did little more than shrug in response to the question. He didn’t want to admit the weakness aloud. He didn’t want to tell you that he was warring with guilt over something that the others - especially you - didn’t seem to struggle with. 

You both already knew the answer. It had been a hard day for him. Of course sleep was far beyond his grasp. 

In a silent, but comfortable exchange, Gar locked his phone and set it aside, entirely uncaring of saving his progress in the game while you sat down beside him. You slid onto the couch with your butt half nestled on top of his hip and your legs strung across his lap. He reached one arm in front of you, draping it over the thickness of your thighs. In a very natural move, he lazily wrapped his knuckles around your bare skin. 

Neither of you bothered to acknowledge your lack of pants - the fact that you were only wearing underwear with your oversized sleep shirt. You were so used to each other at this point that casual states of undress didn’t really need to be acknowledged. 

He drew mindless patterns into your skin with his thumb and slung his other arm over the back of the couch, bringing you into his lovely natural warmth. You laid your head onto his chest, easily cuddling into his side as you indulged in the familiarity. With his phone turned off, the darkness ruminating through the room was a silent cloak that enveloped the two of you. It made it much easier to fall into that routine of comfort that the two of you always embraced. 

You would explicitly deny that his touch on your bare skin felt like a deadly trail of needles erupting with fire - in the best way possible. Now was not the time for your lust to be breaking through. He was your best friend, and he was clearly in need of comfort. 

“I missed my human heater.” You mumbled out quietly, nuzzling into his side affectionately. 

He let out a hazy breath - some attempt at a laugh in response to your affectionate nickname for him. It was something he knew well about your friendship. You had a constantly chilly body, and he would always be there to warm you up with his blazen hot skin. Just another perk from his mutation - even when he got stuck out in the snow, he never ran cold. 

Now that you had acknowledged that wordless question (the reason you had gotten out of bed, why you couldn’t sleep), it was Gar’s turn to do the same. 

It hung in the air over his head and turned into a stony silence in the quiet, dark room that made each of his breaths seem particularly heavy beside your ear. It was a tension that built upon itself for a few moments. You weren’t going to ask, even though you had a feeling you virtually already knew the answer. You wondered if he was going to come out and admit it before you simply dragged him back to bed and forced him to stay there out of your own selfish need. 

But then he finally broke the silence by saying the words. 

“Whenever I close my eyes… I just keep seeing his face.” 

His words were tentative, a quiet whimper released into the room after being trapped in his chest for too long. Like electricity, shocking and impossible to avoid, you felt his pain surging through you. It caused your throat to clench painfully. You shifted slightly, turning so that you could get a better look at his face. Even in the dimness, the sad glassiness of his eyes practically glowed. 

“Gar,” 

You called out his name, your own voice giving away a depth of weakness that you held for him. Before you could help it, you were reaching up and cradling the side of his face with a cupped palm. Even though your hands were cool, the feeling was intensely comforting to him - just because it was you. He couldn’t help but lean into it, leaning on your hand as though it was the only thing in the world holding him up in that moment. When he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force some of that terrible guilt away, he accidentally forced the tears out and let them leak freely onto your hand. 

“Oh, baby.” You cooed out. 

You were entirely unsure why the nickname popped out. The sound of it on your own lips even surprised you. It was something you had never called him before. But he didn’t stop you, didn’t seem to find it unpleasant, so you continued. 

“You did what you had to do.” You told him with certainty. “You saved my life.” 

That was something infinitely valuable to him. But he wondered if somehow, he had diminished his own value in the process. 

More thick tears slipped down his face and you thumbed them away upon instinct. He swallowed thickly before he spoke again, though this time his words were heavily entrenched in those tears. 

“What if that man had a family?” Gar sniffled quietly. “What if-?” 

“Of course he had a family, Gar.” You quickly cut him off, knowing that his words were quickly spiraling into a deep, putrid guilt. 

That guilt was definitely something you felt the need to save him from. 

Upon hearing your words, he looked at you with sharp hurt in his eyes. Clearly, he had been expecting you to argue against his point, rather than confirm it. But you had a completely different line of thinking in mind.

“Everyone does.” You continued on. “Everyone has people who miss them. But you can’t waste your sympathy on some fictional family you’ve made up for the guy in your head. Having a family and being missed doesn’t give people the right to attack others and get away with it. The possibility of being missed doesn’t mean that people can go through life without seeing the consequences of their actions.” 

Gar let out a quiet huff. It was a sound of defeat - a signal saying that your words had punctured his surface, but hadn’t quite set in yet. 

When he didn’t say anything in reply, you continued. 

“You’re my family.” You told him firmly. 

You used the hold on his cheek to fully turn his head toward yours, and you gently angled into him so that your foreheads were pressed together. Gar closed his eyes and basked in the soothing feeling as you continued talking. 

“And I’m yours. And I really, truly don’t care about who lives or dies outside of us. I don’t care what happens as long as we’re safe. And we’re together.” 

You wanted to add on a verbal exception for the others - for Rachel, and Dick, and Kory, and likely Rachel’s mom just for her sake. An exception for the people who had quickly also become your family in the short time since you had met them. But you had a feeling that Gar knew about this exception in your mind without you having to voice it. 

Gar swallowed hard again, and this time you felt it bob harshly through him while pressed so closely together. You felt him let out a harsh breath before he spoke again. 

“I guess… I guess I’m just worried about what you think of me now.” He spoke the words so quietly, as if his fear even crept into voicing this. “I don’t want my favorite person in the world to be afraid of me. Or… to think I’m a bad person.” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You quickly argued the point, a slight laughter on your lips at the mere thought of it - at the mention of being afraid of someone like him. 

Yes, he could turn into a giant green tiger, and yes, seeing him use that power to its full extent for the first time had been… jarring. But you would never be afraid of someone who cried during Pixar movies and said it was ‘inhumane’ to kill the animals in Minecraft for food. 

“I could never be afraid of you, Gar.” You easily added on. “You’re not a bad person. You’re such a good person. You’re so good. You’re such a good boy.” 

Those words struck a cord deep within his soul, and a whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it. 

“Say that again.” He told you, so pitifully that it almost sounded like begging. “Please?” 

“You’re such a good boy.” You repeated yourself, running your thumb along the soft skin of his cheek once again. “You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

In a moment, the air shifted. 

The magnetism between the two of you came to a fierce head, and the desperation, the vulnerability that the day’s events had brought forward morphed itself from pain and sadness into something the two of you knew well in the presence of each other - pure wanting. But this time, both of you were exhausted and completely lacking the energy to have any self control to hold it back. 

“Y/N-” 

He barely got out a whimper of your name before you pressed forward that extra inch, stealing his breath as you pressed your lips to his. It was a perfect moment - a beautiful culmination of everything you had ever wanted since meeting him. You definitely weren’t going to waste it. 

He moaned into the kiss and you echoed it back, gulping in breaths through your nose so you wouldn’t have to pull away from the soft cushion of his lips, not even for a moment. When he reached for a greedy grip on the back of your head, filthy and wanting, gently nibbling on your bottom lip - your instincts took over. You blindly swung a leg out, climbing over his waist, and he let out a sharp hiss at the feeling of your weight being planted in his lap. You were beautiful and whole as you sat down on top of him, a perfect reminder that this wasn’t just a dream as his cock quickly swelled to life under the heat of your core where it brushed against his borrowed pants. 

“Please-” He whimpered into your mouth, barely able to get the word out before you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him moan out shakily in the most beautiful way. 

You planted your hands on his shoulders, easily taking control of the situation - not that he cared. He felt like he belonged under your controlling grip, under the pleasant weight of your body as his hard cock throbbed underneath your perfect weight. In a blur of heady kisses, swapping breath with the only man you had ever wanted like this, you got your underwear off and got his pants around his ankles. He shoved your shirt up over your breasts to possessively latch onto one of them with his mouth as you reached down and lined up his pulsing cock with your wet, wanting cunt. 

“Oh-” 

He let out another beautifully pathetic whimper as you sunk down onto him in one smooth movement. Your tight, wet heat quickly surrounded him and made his head spin. You felt so full that it almost choked you, but the hot pangs of electricity that shot up through your pussy easily spurred you on. You wasted no time before you began a brutal pace, bouncing on his lap as if he was nothing more than a toy for your own pleasure. The slap of skin on skin was irritably loud in the otherwise silent room, accompanied only by Gar’s harsh, animalistic pants and your choked-off moans as you struggled to comprehend the fullness of his nearly overwhelming cock. 

You both needed it. You needed the intense sting of pleasure to push out the worries of the day. 

With Gar’s hands gripping at your waist as if you might slip away at any moment and his face buried in your breasts, you almost didn’t hear the quiet murmur of his request when he managed to get the words out beyond that blinding pleasure. 

“Say it again,” He choked out past his harsh breaths. “Please!” 

It took your cock-drunk brain a moment to comprehend it, but when the gears fully churned, you instantly knew what he meant. 

“You’re a good boy,” 

You moaned out, reaching a hand up to pet through his hair. You took a fierce grip on those green locks, never once faltering in the harsh, unforgiving rhythm of your hips as you continued to piston yourself up and down on his cock. 

“You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

“Oh - fuck!” Gar grunted into your chest. 

At the sound of your voice saying this, declaring that he was a good boy - he abruptly came inside you.