#YES HES A LITTLE BIT SHORTER THAN CANON

[matamisin]

get a load of this lil guy

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

1.) Height comparisons? Tallest to shortest? I ways felt that Danny was tallest with Randy as the shortest, but Ben feels small too? And Rex feels giant.

2.) What would Jenny and Rex look like with Upgrade on them?If you have any concepts of them?

I love these little guys, btw they make me so happy!

1.) I actually have a height chart I never posted! I am STILL not completely locked in about them, but I've been holding onto it for a year, so I think I can post it since Ive not worked on it much. xD So while small details might vary in any future plot development, this is a rough height comparison for the HoMies:

My reasonings are that canonically (? at least according to Wikias) Jenny is at least 2 meters tall in the show. Which is a lil questionable, but I just headcanon her around that height, but it can vary depending on her transformations. In any case she is a tall Amazonian Mechanical Goddess.

Both Danny and Zak have very tall genes from both sides of their families. Jack F. is a freaking tank unit of a man, and while Maddie is probably somewhere above average height, her sister Alicia is built af, so there are some tall genes on their side of the family. Doc and Drew are both pretty tall, and Doyle too, so chances of Zak being on a taller side are very good.

Jun canonically has very long legs (which was mentioned as too long for an 11 y.o. to which I relate a lot, because I was very tall at 11 too xD) & Randy is a very noodly boy, so I feel like they will grow pretty tall. But Randy is also very slight in built which will make him seem smaller.

Ben in his alt futures is supposedly very tall, but Omniverse throws a curve with him suddenly seeming smaller at 16, so?? I kinda settled on him being kinda average male height, which can go either way when he gets older.

Rex is kinda opposite, because at 16-17 he is pretty tall, but not overly huge (considering that he is still shorter than Six but only a little taller than Holiday on heels, so he is taller than average female height), but I headcanon him having grown tall very early. So I kind of settled on another average that can go either way as years go.

And yes, he is a little taller and buffer than Ben, because when they swapped jackets in Heroes United, Ben's jacket is tighter on him and that fact is forever my favorite headcanon. xD

Jake and Kim are short monarchs! Well, compared to others, lol xD. In reality they are only a few inches/cm lower than average heights! I am a big fan of Jake being a short powerhouse (its also supported by his genetics, mainly by his grandfather Lao Shi, who is pretty short even when he was younger) in his human form, which doesn't affect his dragon form. Kim is a small lean power machine - she is small, agile and fast, for a normal human.

2.) Oh! I did have another idea I sort of toyed with (A sort of 'fusions' for HoMies for another old ask I got, but I never got around to drawing them lol sorry), but I never actually drew anything like that! This is a fun idea to doodle-

After the finale Rex has changed and I would like to think that Ben will notice! After all becoming a god temporarily would be something of an upgrade! xD And tbh I think Jenny, as a sentient machine would not particularly enjoy being Upgraded! It would feel a little bit like possession, but with a side effect of your guts being rearranged without your consent, like?? yikes

Aaaaaa, thank you!!! I'm so glad people get joy from this crossover, even if im so inconsistent with actually posting staff for it QvQ <3

[skyeslittlecorner]

The height of WHB demons

A random thought that came to my mind after a conversation with a friend. Let's check how tall our hotties are. At first I thought about checking the height using sprite, because the kings are quite adequate to the descriptions. The only thing I would disagree with is Beel and Levi, but Levi leans over a bit, which may be why he seems shorter when they should be the same height.

Satan you smol bean &lt;;33

Then. I saw Foras and Bael's poses. Well, nothing from the foreground.

Funfact - the difference between Glasyal and Mammon sprites is the same as that between Mammon and Beel. Yes, Glasya is taller. Yes, I know that canonically he is probably the only devil the size of Mammon, but I changed my mind and went to compare them differently.

There will be very loose comparisons. This can't be done very reliably, but in the comics we can see here and there what they look like standing next to each other.

By the way! I hope I didn't confuse inch when converting them from cm, but I have no idea about imperial units. It won't be worse than Michael and his 38 cm anyway.

UPDATE: YEAH I DID CONFUSE IT LOL. Because it turned out that I had converted the units incorrectly (very sorry, my fault!), I'll just stick to cm for now. If I have time, maybe I will try to calculate it again.

Let's start with something smol easy - Satan - 178 cm.

You know I'm obsessed with these two. This was the only time I counted the pixels (in Sitri's stupid heels) to know if he was taller than Satan without them. And yes. He is. (It's also possible that Sitri is tilting his head a little, but we got the general idea of them.)

It looks like Sitri is something between 180-183 cm. Compared to Sitri, Satan is high to the top of his horn, while Minhyeok is halfway up. So, Minhyeok should also be a little shorter than Satan (or his height).

It's a bit difficult with Belial, because he leans over, but it looks like he will be about half a head taller than Satan. Astaroth is a tower, no surprises.

Next, Beelzebub - 188 cm.

First, BAEL YOU'RE ???HIGHER??? THAN BEEL? So you're 190 cm tall AT LEAST? And he has no heels yes I checked!

And I thought I couldn't love you more, just give me a kiss. Andrea you can too-

Ekhm. So. Andrea is not a tower, but a whole skyscraper. And that's so hot of him. Unfortunately, either one or the other is leaning, so it's hard to judge, but Andrea should be about 200 cm. It actually fits, because from the description of the country it seems that the devils from Nilfheim are the most stature ones due to their rigorous military training. Glasyal, make room for your friend in the giants' team.

Another fun fact: Comparing the sprites, he's barely up to Mammon's (201 cm) chin. That's why I don't trust it.

Leviathan - 187 cm

It looks like Levi and Gabriel are the same height, possibly Gabriel a little taller.

I know it's probably a perspective, but imagine that our extraordinary ancestor, a grand(x666)father who orphaned 80 demons and after which we have to clean up is actually small lol

In the second one, the perspective can also make a difference, but I chose it because it looks quite okay compared to Levi's other comics. (And you can definitely see them better than when they're rolling around on the floor.) Anyway, it's my dream that Foras would be a little shorter than Levi.

Update: Chapter 5 confirms that both Leviathan and Foras are of similar height when standing side by side.

Here he is, a Burj Khalifa of a man, Mammon - 201 cm

Like Levi, he doesn't know how to pose at all. That's why he is only with Bimet. In both of them, Bimet is more or less up to his shoulder, which is comparable to Satan, which gives us ~180 cm. I expected more from you, Bimet. Disappointing.

That's all I have compared to kings. But.

There are several devils that can be estimated from each other, but since we don't know how tall they are, we can only compare them. Let's do it, because why not.

Paimon and Leraye - only one screenshot, but they will be of similar height. They can be seen together quite often. Here they can be seen simply most clearly in terms of height. (In one comic they are also next to each other, but there are different panels so the perspective may also differ.)

Of course Paimon is bending over here, but I put it in here rather following in the thought of the little grandpa. Impossible, because I doubt Paimon will be that small (still funny to imagine).

I didn't expect Morax to be so tall. Taller and better built than Buer. He looks so delicate in his sprite, but in the comics he's hot. (I had to cut off Marbas's legs to get Tumblr to let me post it. I recommend the entire panel.)

Another interesting thing. I fully agree that Ronove is much bigger than Dantalian. But for Phenix to be the simillar height as Ronove? Yes, the perspective here is not one to one, but I didn't expect Phenix to be quite high.

Phew! I think that's all I could glean, at least from things that looked somewhat legit. There was a lot. Congratulations if you made it to the end! I wonder how much of this will turn out to be true in the future.

[cityofmeliora]

about Terzo's height...

while i LOVE LOVE LOVE short king Terzo (as a short king myself), he might actually be the tallest brother and the implications are SO FUNNY.

so the idea of short king Terzo seems to have gotten really popular because of the clip from Unholy / Unplugged in Los Angeles where he says:

"Now look... people have had the decency to comment on the fact that without my hat being on, I'm a little bit, uh... short." Los Angeles, CA (Unholy / Unplugged, 2015)

but the thing is, he says that right before he raises the microphone. he was joking about the fact that, at all of the Unholy / Unplugged shows, the mic stand was set way too low for him.

in Baltimore and Phoenix he makes it more clear:

"But these last couple days, I've come out... you've noticed me not wearing a hat. Some people have noticed that, 'He's a little bit shorter than I thought!' [...] But what has happened a couple days in a row now is that I come out and the microphone is like, [gestures at chest height] about here. I'm not that short!" Baltimore, MD (Unholy / Unplugged, 2015)

"Now... we've got a fundamental problem here. [...] It is my– what people expect my height to be. Yes, I will– I will agree that myself without hat is not very, uh... imposing. But I am a little bit taller than this." Phoenix, AZ (Unholy / Unplugged, 2015)

the joke was that people were assuming he was much shorter than he actually was.

he doesn't appear to be super short! if you consider every Papa to be the height that they are in real life, they'd all be the same height as TF (about 5'8" / 173cm) due to the fact that they are all played by him. BUT there have been occasions when two Papas have been present at the same time: during the coronation ceremonies. in Secondo's coronation, he's shown to be about the same height as Primo. and in Terzo's coronation, he's shown to be MUCH taller than Secondo.

Metal Myths: Ghost pt. 2 (April 2022)

Metal Myths: Ghost pt. 2 (April 2022)

Youtube Video

so Terzo might be the tallest brother. he is still insecure about his height, though.

"Is there a sound engineer here? Hello. Could you please give me a little spooky reverb. Just a slight. I need to sound taller than I am." Brooklyn, NYC (Unholy / Unplugged, 2015)

not so insecure that he can't joke about it, but he will joke about it and then remind you that he's not that short!

and Terzo wanting to be taller seems so in-character for him. for the pursuit of better, y'know? hahaha

obviously, he's not a very tall guy either. he's a little short. just a little below average. he's a perfectly normal height, but he seems to have become more insecure about it because he has a reputation for being short, and every time people see him in person they're like "huh. you're taller than i thought you'd be!" and he's like "wtf?? uhhh. thanks???? 🤨😓"

i genuinely think it's sooo so so so funny that the fandom does this to him too LOL.

for the record: the thing about Terzo allegedly being 4'9" is totally fake. there are no sources for that. and i hate misinformation, so i will not stand for people spreading that as if it's canon. that said, if you headcanon Terzo being 4'9" anyway, i think you're incredibly based and that rules actually–

again, i love short king Terzo and i accept all headcanons!! i just think this particular angle has not been explored a lot and it is simply hilarious to me.

[evorathesylvurr]

It turns out I am sick and I proceeded to sleep until now (8 hours of sleep).

I have math homework due in like an hour and I am sitting here trying to figure out how to draw a circle to start a doodle page of yams. Which is ironic and everything because haha funny numbEr. But dude isn’t even in my top 10 favorites. Not even my top 20. I just think it’s really funny that he SUCKS ASS at his job. Bro fucking made shit up. Some guy was like “damn I’ll buy into your cult” and he went “PLEASE RECONSIDER I AM BEGGING YOU”. Why is he so boyfailure.

[ladyknightellen]

It's a Mobility Aid...Not a Fucking Prop!!!

I guess it's just my brand at this point to go mia for a few weeks, then come back with a rant about some new, mildly infuriating realization I've had.

This particular realization is one that's kind of been buzzing in the back of my head as something that was kind of off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was until now. The 'aha' moment came when I was looking for pictures of Kaz Brekker to add to my collection of stickers on my binder for school. As I scrolled through, I began to notice a frustrating trend in the fan art...

Kaz Brekker, a canonically disabled character, who uses a cane to walk is consistently being drawn holding his cane as if it's just a prop, or a weapon, rather than what it actually is A GODDAMN MOBILITY AID!!!!

And before you start with 'but he hits people with it' I'm going to stop you right there. Yes, he does use it as a weapon sometimes, and it's even described in canon as being designed with the intention of using it as a club if needed, but it's still a cane. It is still a mobility aid that he needs TO WALK, and when you treat it like nothing more than a prop or a weapon, you erase a very important aspect of who Kaz is as a character, and honestly, as a cane user with chronic pain myself, it feels almost violent to see how often it happens.

Whenever I see art of Kaz standing with his cane in his hands like a billy club, or holding it across one or both shoulders, all I can think about is how much pain he would be in to hold a position like that without using the cane for support. At numerous points in the books during Kaz's pov chapters, we get several very detail descriptions of what it feels like for him on a daily basis as a result of his chronic pain. We also get several instances of how it feels when he has his cane taken from him, when he uses it to fight, or when he's disguised and doesn't want to give himself away. We see the toll it takes on his body to do this, and he always pays for it later.

Kaz does not swagger around Ketterdam with his cane over his shoulder, occasionally taking a swing at rival gang members. If this is the image you have in your head of him, please, I beg you to get rid of that image. Kaz is DISABLED. He has severe chronic pain and walks with a heavy limp and that cane is making contact with the ground on every step. Based on the kind of injury he had, I would imagine that his injured leg might even be a bit shorter than the other, which would possibly be evident in a visible lack of symmetry in the height of his shoulders. And that's just one possible way it could affect his body beyond just his leg that would be outwardly visible.

There are many more, but the point is that injuries like the one Kaz experienced can affect the entire body even with the best care and therapy, and Kaz didn't have any of that. I'm not asking you to be a medical expert just to draw fanart, but I am begging you think about things like this and at the very least, PLEASE draw the mobility aid being used as a mobility aid, not a prop. Stop erasing and sanitizing what little representation we have. If you think it makes him 'look more badass' or whatever to have his cane over his shoulder, I kind of don't really care.

P.S. And don't use the tv show as a reference because Freddy Carter is yet another example of a non disabled actor playing a disabled character.

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST

(but first of all!!! i loove that characterization of wei qingwei, the pirate-dad-peak lord; i can see him being the only peak lord/person who is allowed to casually fix stray feathers on shen qingqiu's wings, because he never makes a big deal out of it or acts like he's made of glass. he fixes it like he fixes someone's hair or clothes, which is a bit of normalcy shen qingqiu is probably desperate for)

so i was thinking: water prison. the whole jin lan city debacle goes roughly the same, only of course with the added accusations of sqq having been an untrustworthy, scheming demon all along and the accusations being a bit more dire. public opinion turns against him badly and he gets hauled off. the old palace master would probably go all in on his demonic heritage and accuse him of a slew of other things too, and then demand his wings be clipped because he'll "escape otherwise". it's not great but shen qingqiu doesn't use his wings to fly that often, and he'll molt soon anyway so he agrees with the conditions (if only to soothe things over). but then ofc in private they do whatever they want and the old palace master changes clipping to pinioning, which is significantly worse, very painful, and cripples him (bonus points if the little palace mistress comes to the prison with her whip and gets a few hits in too cus his wings are drenched and hurt and difficult to maneuver<3).

i do think in this case luo binghe doesn't visit bc if he already got furious at the little palace mistress for using her whip, he wouldn't accept his shizun's wings being mutilated (however, if binghe does come it would be a similar kind of frustrating miscommunication as in canon, and when binghe gets furious when he sees shen qingqiu it's not at sqq but at the state of him, but sqq doesn't know that, and reacts in fear and self-preservation (moving away, tucking his wings tight and close to his body, eyes flashing pale blue (like a crow's!!)), which of course makes it worse; maybe binghe assumes that shen qingqiu thinks this was his idea, which he would NEVER).

when gongyi xiao (love this good boy<3) comes by ofc he's horrified to see the state of shen qingqiu's wings (clumps of blood-slick feathers on the floor, one wing clearly shorter than the other, ripped clothes and bruises), and just like in canon he immediately goes to free him bc it's unacceptable and vile, and maaaybe he jumps to the conclusion that binghe must have done this to him to punish him. with the last of his strength sqq transforms into his full crow form, which is easier to smuggle out of the prison bc gongyi xiao can bundle him up in his robes (for extra drama binghe can be like "shizun will let gongyi xiao swaddle him in his robes and hold him but not binghe??🥺🥺😡😡" "binghe please don't say it like that")

*Gripping the sides of my coffin as I force myself into a sitting position and yes, I do look as - if not MORE - fit than Tianlang-jun in that one illustration (you know the one I mean)* Hey.

This angst just hit me incredibly hard in the stomach and that's why I've been ill so...it's ALL YOUR FAULT (kidding, kidding). Anywhosles, Gongyi Xiao is precious and of course he would smuggle crow Shen Qingqiu out of the prison the moment he sees the mutilation of the poor guy's wings. If he believes Binghe did it? Another reason to dislike the guy that practically stole everything from him (I love this precious guy and he deserves better in canon 😔). He has heard so much about the peak lord grieving the loss of his disciple, and Luo Binghe repays him by practically destroying his wings?? Shameful :(

From the Zhuzhi-lang angle, imagine he's in snake form, going to find the fit guy dilf half demon cultivator that saved his life and helped him out when he should have killed him, and finding a Huan Hua Palace disciple holding a brutalised crow with overly intelligent eyes. It's not hard to jump to the conclusion that the Huan Hua disciple has either caused or helped cause these injuries upon Shen Qingqiu, and is possibly even about to kill him. Keep in mind that all Zhuzhi-lang knows is that Shen Qingqiu has been taken into custody by Huan Hua, held within the Water Prison with his wings to be clipped, multiple accusations thrown his way linked to him being a demon, and that it's the snake boi's job to save him because Shen Qingqiu saved him that one time. What would you do in that situation? Because Zhuzhi-lang attacks with no remorse. Does Gongyi Xiao die?? The real question is if I could bear the poor guy dying twice just for doing the right thing...

The miscommunication between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu always makes me want to die because just ONE CONVERSATION WOULD FIX EVERYTHING. But that's also why it's so silly and good and I love it. The idea that Shen Qingqiu believes that Luo Binghe is the reason why his wings are so fucked up could go deeper with the idea of, back when Luo Binghe was a disciple, he was practically the only disciple that was ever allowed to touch the man's wings, and he always seemed very upset when the other peak lords got to help Shen Qingqiu with his feathers - jealous of them, in reality, but the man thought that maybe he was jealous of how Shen Qingqiu was treated despite being a demon (it was a tidgy bit of the reason). So, when Shen Qingqiu is in the Water Prison, Binghe's first order of business could be perceived as: "you want to be treated as a pathetic human? I can help with that" and ruins one of Shen Qingqiu's defining features of a demon, making him vulnerable and weak - which is how Bingge felt humans were, and how Shen Qingqiu thinks Binghe views humans. So. Angst. Yay.

[maimingaffairs]

Hiiii hope ur well

would u mind doing a darkling x moon summoner fix like she’s disguised as the queens gorgeous lady in waiting but she’s really the kings personal gaurd/assassin.

and aleksander finds out about her when she saves alina from the attack on the way to the little palace.

and of course u have free rein whether u want to continue this or have a jealous trope with Alina and I won’t shy away from smut lol (I’d love a scene where the moon summoner catches the contucdor at the winter fete and helps control his mind to get answers)

thank youuuu

SWEET ANON! i want to preface this with an apology, because it took me so long to write... and it is... a very long piece of writing. i hope it meets the mark though. it might be one of my personal faves that i've written. i love u <33

AS ALWAYS, PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS <333333

warnings: canon typical violence, some angst

word count: 10.5k

The Dark Side of The Moon (aleksander morozova x fem! moon summoner! reader)

READ PART TWO HERE

He needed you.

No, he didn’t need you, he reasoned with himself. He just… really wanted you. 

His hands were still in position, but The Cut he intended to use was long forgotten and faded. You stood behind him and he gaped at you from over his shoulder. You looked as lovely as ever, but even more so now that power was thrumming just underneath your skin, so freshly used. 

The Fjerdan that had been a part of the ambush on the road back to Os Alta, lay over Alina with a smoking, gaping hole blown through his chest. 

The girl pushed the body off of her in a panicked manner, and you dashed past the Black General and grabbed onto both of her hands to pull her to her feet gently. 

��Breathe, breathe, Sankta Alina. You are safe.” You assured her and she stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“Who are you?” She asked, almost belligerently. 

You opened your mouth to answer her question and General Kirigan let out a low hum from behind the two of you. 

“Yes, Lady y/n. Who are you, indeed?” He asked, walking towards you as if you were simply his prey. 

He couldn’t help the glee that settled in his stomach when he looked at you and Alina. His Sun Summoner had finally been found. He could have gotten by with just her. And then there you were. 

His Moon Summoner of legend. No one knew for certain if there was to be a Moon Summoner one day or if it was just tales of a desperate man, but The Black Heretic knew for certain that now he was indefinitely unstoppable. 

“Are you insane, General Kirigan?” You asked angrily and he came back to the present moment to see that you’d wrapped your arms around Alina’s shoulders and pulled her against your chest while she let out sighs of distress.

You weren’t taller than the girl, if anything you were a few inches shorter, and this was an amusing sight for him to watch. You snapped a few times in his direction and you shook your head. 

“You could’ve gotten her killed! Why didn’t you ride off alone with her?” You demanded and then you let go of the girl and rubbed your forehead, “Saints, Kirigan. She’s the Sun Summoner.”

You and him had always gotten along nicely, truth be told. You posed as the Queen’s Lady in Waiting, and whenever there were large events that the General would attend, you two often had friendly conversations. But you weren’t really just the Queen’s Lady in Waiting. And The General knew this. You served as the King’s personal assassin. 

You’d never had to do much more than keep an eye on the man, thankfully, because in instances like that, you’d have to use your power. The power you tried to keep hidden. 

When The King had heard word of the Sun Summoner being brought to the Capital, he’d sent you off to make sure that she and the General and his Grisha made it home safely. 

He was right for that evidently. 

The General didn’t seem to like your outburst and he approached the two of you and he reached up to twist a bit of your hair around his finger curiously. Silver strands glowed in the aftermath of your vicious outburst of power and he dropped the piece of your hair.  

“Were you ever going to tell anyone that you are the Moon Summoner?” He asked slowly and you felt Alina’s eyes on your face. 

You glanced up at the girl in front of you and then over your shoulder at Kirigan and you shook your head. 

“No. Because I didn’t want to just be a saint. I’m much more than that, as you can see.” You said quietly and he hummed. 

“Indeed you are, Lady y/n.” He said lowly and then he nodded to Alina, “She rides with me. Did you ride here on a horse?” He asked. 

You gave him a nod and pointed at a white horse in the distance, speckled with grey. 

“Excuse me? Can someone please explain what’s going on here?” Alina asked desperately and the two of you turned to her. 

He beat you to answer her and he held his hand out for Alina, waiting for her to tentatively grab onto it. 

“I have found my two lovely Saints now.  All is right in the world.” He said with a grin and you felt a sense of unease in your stomach upon seeing his toothy grin. 

-

The ride back to Os Alta was mostly silent. You had gone off ahead of the two on your horse, determined to get to the Capital as quickly as you could so that you could hurry yourself up to the Queen and spend the rest of the day in hiding. You knew what would happen if you ever revealed yourself. You’d be thrown to the wolves. Everyone would know your name, everyone would want to use you. From a young age, you’d learned to keep your powers a secret, and to only practice them alone. 

As soon as your horse rode up onto the gravel path in front of the Little Palace, you jumped from your still moving horse and you gathered your cloak up and quickly ran towards the Grand Palace. You stumbled inside and slammed the doors behind you, despite guards trying to filter out to get outside to meet the General and the Sun Summoner. You pushed your way through a few guards until you got to the grand staircase and bustled up the marble stairs. 

Once in the hallway, you smoothed down your riding clothes and walked quietly towards the King’s study. You tapped the door before you opened it and you stood in the doorway, peering in at the King and Prince Vasily who sat inside. You bowed your head respectfully and cleared your throat.

“Your Grace, I’ve delivered them safely. There were Fjerdans, just as you predicted, my Prince.” You reported and the two men nodded their heads. 

“Thank you, My Lady. Please. Clean yourself up and return yourself to my mother’s side at once.” Vasily ordered and you didn’t protest. 

Within the hour you’d gotten yourself thoroughly cleaned up and dressed with the help of a few servants, and you faithfully returned to your Queen’s side. 

You didn’t mind the Queen. Not at all, really. She was a bit of an airhead and as vain as can be, but you much preferred her company to her husband’s or even Vasily. You didn’t even mind Nikolai, though you hadn’t seen the boy in many, many years. 

You sat in silence next to the Queen for most of the afternoon as she had tea and read through her books, and you felt relieved to be away from the Grisha. Away from Alina Starkov. Away from General Kirigan. 

Just as the thought of all three had slipped your mind, The General begged for your attention once more and you and the Queen both turned your head to the doorway of the Library to see Kirigan standing there. He bowed his head respectfully to the queen and he bent his knee ever so slightly. 

“My Queen. May I steal your lovely Lady away for just a moment or two?” He asked, and the Queen raised an eyebrow.  

“Why? What business do you have with her?” She asked and you wanted to swear under your breath. He was going to tell her, surely. 

The reveal didn’t come, and instead, he gave a simple excuse. 

“I think Miss Starkov needs someone kind and.. well… perhaps non Grisha to speak to. This new life must be hard for her and it’s even harder when there’s only reminders trying to soothe you.” He explained calmly, but you could see the way his fingers fidgeted behind his back from how his forearms flexed underneath his kefta. 

“I suppose. Have her back by the time we finish dinner please.” She requested and the General nodded once and held his hand out for you. 

“After you, Lady y/n.” He said primly. 

You looked down at the Queen miserably and stood up. You held the skirts of your dress up off of the ground as you strode towards Kirigan, and you politely took his arm. 

He led you away from the library, and as soon as you were out of earshot of the Queen, he cleared his throat. 

“So. I believe a discussion is in order about your… abilities.” He said slowly and you shook your head. 

“No. I don’t want to talk about them. I want you to forget about them. Please. They’re mine and mine alone.” You said softly. 

Kirigan placed a hand at the small of your back and he very gently nudged you towards the doors that would take you outside to the Little Palace. 

“You are a gift to this world, y/n. Why hide it? You, Alina, and I could accomplish so much. We could tear down the fold, we could further expand it, we could bring the sun and the moon down to touch the earth. Yet you deny Ravka of these wonders. Why?” He asked and stepped outside with you. He carefully guided you down a small set of stairs and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” you said cautiously. Or perhaps it was fearfully. You weren’t sure. 

“Well, you’d be doing a great service to this great country by embracing who you are meant to be… what was it you called Alina? Ah yes. Sankta y/n.” He finished and you shuddered at the sound of it. 

There was power dripping from the title he gave you and you would be lying if you said it didn’t appeal to you somewhat. But you quickly shook the thought away from your head and instead decided to become fascinated with a fraying bit of lace on the bodice of your dress. 

“I don’t know, General.” You finally replied as the two of you walked into the Little Palace. 

“You’re destined for great things, my Moonbeam.” He said softly and then took one of your hands in his, stopping you in the middle of an empty hallway, “You don’t have to agree, but I would encourage you to accept your Grisha side and come here to train with Alina. We three are destined for something ethereal.” He said gently and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

Little butterflies erupted in your stomach and your mouth was suddenly dry. 

“I’ll think about it.” You whispered, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek as he pulled his hand away from your hair 

“Good girl. I know you’ll make the right decision.

-

Whether it was the right decision or not, you did in fact choose to join Kirigan. When you told him, he was elated. In his own way. His dark eyes gleamed proudly and he had taken you by the hand and promised you greatness, and truthfully, you believed he’d deliver. 

But training was simply kicking your ass.

You knew how to handle your powers, that wasn’t hard. But to advance them and use them in ways you’d never even imagined? That was hard. 

Typically, you’d spend most of your time around Kirigan as he insisted that he was best to train you, but sometimes you were stuck going down to the training yard or to Baghra. 

Baghra was a woman full of disdain and had a certain distaste for you, it seemed. Sometimes it was as if she was trying to scare you away from your training entirely. 

Like right now, for instance. 

You sat with your legs crossed in a shabby little wooden chair while the old woman paced the room in silence. You wanted to ask her what she was pacing for, but you didn’t want to face her wrath. So you instead watched her go back and forth, like a slow, unsteady pendulum. 

Finally her eyes met yours and she stopped moving, her thin lips becoming even thinner as she pursed them together. 

“I’m no longer sure what to do with you, admittedly.” She said, her words slow and well thought upon. 

You arched an eyebrow curiously and she only shrugged and sat across from you, folding her bony hands properly across her lap. 

“You know what you’re doing. That’s more than Alina can say. But you aren’t great. You won’t hardly be successful or powerful. Do you know why?” 

You didn’t verbally ask her to tell you why. You only leaned forward a bit and held your hands out questioningly. 

She tutted at you and then she leaned back a bit in her chair.

“You’re doing this for all the wrong reasons, so when you’re faced with the reality of the situation, you are no longer motivated to use your power accordingly. I think that would have a lot to do with The General, wouldn’t you think so?” She asked, almost accusingly. 

“The finger pointing is a bit juvenile, isn’t it, Baghra?” You asked in a flat tone, “If you have an accusation to make, best be direct.”

It was her turn to cock an eyebrow now and she let out a little scoff. 

“Alright then, little girl, let me be frank. You are doing this because of your attraction to the General. Not because you want to tear down The Fold. Alina may not be good with her power yet, but make no mistake; she wants only to liberate this country. What do you want? A moment of approval from a man? A pat on the head like a kitten?” 

You slowly rose from the chair and you towered over the woman, shaking your head, your jaw setting tersely. 

“Preposterous. You cannot possibly fathom why I am doing this.”

“Correct, girl. I cannot fathom what motivates you. I never claimed to. All I claimed to know is what you’re doing it for. Tell me this: do you believe that this will bring you the affection you crave?” 

You stared her down incredulously before you shook your head.

“This is absurd. I am leaving.” You snapped and turned sharply. 

You stormed towards the door, your fingertips vibrating just slightly, and when you looked down, silvery light made your skin light up ever so slightly. You grit your teeth and pushed open her door and walked out, making sure to slam it behind you. 

You didn’t crave his affection. You didn’t want a pat on the head.

You walked off up to the courtyard, lost in angry thought. 

Come to think of it though, The Fold had hardly crossed your mind during the weeks of training you’d been subjected to. Kirigan never spoke of it when you two were together. Most of the time you’d spent with him was just… casual conversation between two friends. Sometimes he’d give you his hand and allow you to mess around with your power with the aid of his amplification. 

But otherwise, it wasn’t much else more. 

You slowed your steps until you were stopped entirely near the doors to the Little Palace and you blinked a few times. 

There was no way that Baghra was right. But she wasn’t really wrong, either. 

Why were you doing this? 

That was the question that kept you up that night. 

-

You laid in your bed across the hall from the Queen’s room and you tossed and turned for the whole two hours you were laying down. 

Your mind raced relentlessly, replaying what Baghra had earlier said, her words echoing like church bells in your head. 

You groaned frustratedly and you pushed yourself up out of bed and reached out in the dim light of the moon to grab onto your robe that hung from one of the posts on your bed. You tossed it around your shoulders and slid your arms into the thin sleeves and tied it up tightly. You moved your hair over one shoulder and slid on a pair of flat, slipper-like shoes, and you rushed out of your bedroom. 

You’d go wake Alina. That’s what you’d do. Talk to her about this entire thing, hear what she would have to say about it. You sighed quietly and walked down through the winding halls of the Grand Palace until you reached the double doors that led out to the Little Palace. You padded out over the grounds and you glanced around cautiously, chewing on your bottom lip. 

When you finally got inside of the Little Palace, you walked determinedly down the hallway towards Alina’s room before you stopped at a crossroads. There was hardly any light in the halls at this time of the night, yet down the hallway that held Kirigan’s room, there was a sliver of light under his door. You glanced back at the hallway that would take you to Alina and you thought for a moment before you turned and walked hurriedly through a hallway. 

You didn’t even think or have half the mind to knock before you pushed open the doors to General Kirigan’s room. 

If the much taller man was surprised to see you intruding in his room, he didn’t make any indication of such a feeling. Instead, he just eyed you from his position, bent over his war table. You took a step inside his room and closed the doors behind you, letting out a long sigh. 

“Do you do this often to The Royal Family? Or are unannounced intrusions reserved for me?” He asked and then looked back down at his table. 

When you didn’t answer, he flickered his dark eyes back up to you and looked you up and down a few times, and suddenly you felt very naked underneath his gaze, despite being clothed.  

“I just… I…” you trailed off and suddenly felt very foolish to barge into his personal chambers without so much as a knock and you looked down at the ground. 

“You just what?” He demanded, but his tone wasn’t harsh. Only curious. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know. I intended on rousing Alina but I don’t know what happened. I just… found myself here.” You answered, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

He continued to stare at you for a while and then he shook his head once, reaching out to beckon you forward.

“Well. Are you going to stand by the doors for the remainder of the night? Come join me over here.” He suggested and you slowly made your way across the floor to him. 

You felt a pang of nervousness in your chest. A new feeling around him. Usually you felt much more at ease around The Darkling, but now you just felt so small. 

You finally rounded the table to stand at his side, and you met his eyes which had followed you from the door to his side. 

“Would you like me to make you some tea?” He asked and reached out to twist a piece of your hair around his finger, a habit that he had made within the last few weeks. 

“No, I don’t think that would help much. But thank you.”

He looked down at you and he let out a sigh, “I am not sure why you came to me, then. I cannot lull you to sleep, my sweet moonbeam.” 

His words sent you fumbling for your own and you blinked a few times. You only shrugged in lieu of speaking and looked down at his war table. 

You watched him lift his arm out of your periphery and nearly jumped when you felt his hand gently touch the side of your face. He carefully turned your face towards his and he cradled your face against his palm. His touch was gentle, and you wondered if he’d ever been this delicate with anything in his life before. 

“Would you like that? Is that why you came to me? Did you want me to lull you to sleep? Soothe all your worries away?” He asked slowly. 

Though his words could easily have been mocking, his tone was light and kind and full of something you placed between want and concern. 

“I don’t know.” You whispered and nuzzled your cheek into the palm of his hand. 

He clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth, “That isn’t really an answer.” He commented. 

You knew it wasn’t. And you knew he was far too sharp to think otherwise. You couldn’t fool him, and you knew that. He could read you like an open book, he always could, even when you two were simple acquaintances. But you couldn’t really call yourselves acquaintances now. Could you even say friends? 

He trained you often, and much of your time was spent with the General, much more than with the Queen these days. He knew so much about you. Some from being told by you, some from guessing and confirmation from you, but mostly what he knew about you went unspoken. He knew you were lonely, he didn’t need to ask you that. He’d deduced it quickly after your time spent with him. 

You only kept your eyes on his nose and his thumb idly brushed back and forth against the side of your cheekbone, the contact making your skin tingle underneath his touch. 

You finally closed your eyes and focused on the faint sweeping noises the pad of his thumb made across your skin and a little sigh escaped your lips pleasantly. 

“What keeps you awake?” He asked very quietly, and you let out an equally quiet hum. 

“Many things. Perhaps I just don’t belong here. I lack purpose. I’m better off how I was before.”

His fingers curled around the back of your head and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. 

“You lack no such thing.” He protested. 

“Then what is my purpose? To help you tear down The Fold with Alina? To become a living Saint? I don’t want that. I don’t want to become a bedtime story. I was meant for more. I was meant for the things they leave out of bedtime stories.” You whispered and you could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch. 

“Your purpose does not align with the Sun Summoner’s. Indeed you are correct. You were meant for more. She walks in the light. She walks with the light. You wait in the dark, you strike from the darkness where no one watches. You and I are more alike than you could ever imagine.” He said just above a whisper, but the quietness of his voice did nothing to conceal the intensity of which he spoke with. 

“I don’t know what I am.” You breathed and opened your eyes only to find his just inches away from yours. 

“You are the silver flicker of light in the dark and then you are the darkness.” He answered earnestly. 

You closed your eyes again, and as soon as you did, you were swept forward into his arms. He pulled your head against the center of his chest and wrapped his other arm around your middle. There was something oddly protective about his embrace and he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. 

“Let me lull you to sleep, little one. You need a reprieve from your mind.” He insisted. 

You gave him a permissive nod against his chest and he very slowly walked you away from the table and he sunk down into an armchair. He pulled you down onto his lap and he lifted your legs up over the side of the chair. You curled your head against his chest much like a cat and you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, your legs dangling over the side of the chair. 

You took in his scent as you buried your face against his clothes and were comforted to find that he smelled of leather and something of embers, and then something sweet yet faint that you couldn’t place. 

You opened your eyes when he grabbed one of your arms away from his neck and laid it against your chest before he reached up with the same hand and traced his fingertips against your skin, and a warm feeling washed over you. Everywhere his fingers touched, a silvery blue trail of light followed underneath your skin. 

“Sleep, little one.” He cooed and you closed your eyes again, obeying him. 

The last thing you remembered before sleep overcame you was his voice above your head, muttering what you recognized as sweet nothings in his native Ravkan tongue. 

He had indeed lulled you right to sleep. 

-

In the days after you had fallen asleep on him, The General had been very insistent that you were with him for the majority of your day. He claimed your skill set was of use to him, and truthfully, he was right. Even before you were his Moon Summoner, you were the King’s assassin, and you didn’t need your power for the things you’d accomplished there. 

Around his entourage and Corporalki, you were treated as if you were his most esteemed soldier. But behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, his intense and hard demeanor was gone and he was softer with you, kinder. He always had been kind to you, but this was different. It was a different type of kindness. 

The morning after you had fallen asleep on him, you awoke in his bed, the black sheets tucked around you with care. He hadn’t been in the bed next to you, but you hadn’t expected that of him. He was an early riser. 

You wondered if he had slept next to you at any point during the night. You couldn’t remember. In fact, you didn’t even remember him moving you to his bed. You wanted to ask him if he had, but it seemed listless. Even if he had, it hadn’t mattered. Or did it? Sharing a bed was typically something you only did with someone you trusted, and Kirigan didn’t seem like someone who’d just open his bed up to anyone. 

It was the best sleep you’d had in quite a long time, that was for certain. 

It was just past noon when you finally emerged from The Grand Palace and made your way to The Little Palace. You had pulled your hair up into an intricate braid and you fiddled with the ends of it as you walked. Once inside, you spotted Alina walking down the hall and you hurried up to her and gently grabbed her arm and gave her a little smile. 

She didn’t return the smile, instead she looked anxious and unhappy. You pulled her off to the side and stopped walking, eyeing her with concern. 

“Has something happened?” You asked and she sighed, a long sigh that had sounded like it had been pent up for a long time. 

“I’ve been informed I’m to showcase my… powers in front of everyone during The Winter Fete.” She said anxiously. 

You raised an eyebrow and then shook your head a few times, “Who told you this?” You asked, feeling a bit of frustration. If Alina was to showcase her talents, then surely you’d be asked to as well, and that was specifically not something you wanted to do. 

“Kirigan. David, too. Genya. All of them. I don’t want to be presented like a show pony.” She stated and then you sympathetically patted her arm. 

“I understand. No one does.” You agreed and she let out a short laugh and pulled her arm away from your gentle grasp. 

“Well. Why don’t you work your magic and tell Aleksander to call it off.” She suggested. 

You blinked in confusion and then you tipped your head to the side. 

“Aleksander? I’m afraid I don’t know an Aleksander.” You replied, eyes searching her face. 

“Kirigan. It’s his name. Aleksander. Did he not tell you?” She asked you as if it was one of the most common things to have known. 

“No?” 

Ouch.

In all the time you’d spent with The General getting closer to him, he’d never once told you his first name. He didn’t talk much about himself, and when he did it was vague, ambiguous. Everything about himself was left up to interpretation. 

He liked it that way, you noticed. It left more room for mystery. It kept anyone from crossing the brooding man, because simply no one knew definitely just who he was or just how ruthless or constrained he could be. 

“Oh. Well then perhaps don’t mention you heard it from me. I’ve got to get down to Baghra. Please just… do what you are able to about this situation. I am not ready to be a spectacle in front of Ravka.” She pleaded and then walked off. 

You stood against the wall for a moment, listening to her footsteps echo until they were gone entirely. An eclectic range of frustrations began to make your fingertips tingle and you pushed away from the wall. You walked with intent to The General’s room, your brow knitting together in annoyance. 

His door was the only thing that made you come to a stop and before you could decide against it, you pushed it open and stepped inside of his room. 

He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. You were the only one that dared come unannounced, after all. 

He sat at his desk on the far end of the room with a thin parchment letter in his hand and he didn’t tear his dark gaze off of the paper as he held his hand out in your direction. He outstretched his pointer and middle fingers and curled them in the air at you in a ‘come here’ motion and you did. 

You stomped petulantly towards his desk and you laid your hand down firmly on the desktop with a quiet thump. 

Now, you had his full attention. He lifted his inky eyes towards you slowly and he took in your appearance before he slowly laid the letter down. 

“You are upset.” He observed and you simply scoffed and folded your arms across your chest.

“What gave it away?” 

“Perhaps the stomping like a child. Or maybe it’s the fact that you can’t hide your emotions on your face. Do you intend on telling me why you’re cross? Or did you have another reason for this visit?” He asked and leaned backwards in his chair casually. 

“I don’t know, Aleksander. Maybe I just wanted to come in here and pout.” You snapped. 

Now it was his turn to fold his arms across his chest and he looked up at you with amusement, the same kind of amusement a parent would watch a fractious child with. 

“Ah, you’ve been speaking with Miss Starkov, it seems.” 

You stared at him in disbelief. That was it? That was all he had to say? You nearly stomped your foot down on the hard floor but refrained, not wanting his amusement to grow. 

“Why wouldn’t you have told me your name as well?” You asked, and you hadn’t realized how stupid you sounded until just now, but you had no intention of backing down at this point. 

“Would that have pleased you, lapushka?” He asked with a little grin and you snorted, turning your head away from him. 

“I don’t care. It’s your name. You do what you want with it. I just figured perhaps we were closer than that.”

“Why do you figure that? Because you fell asleep in my arms like a little kitten? Or because you woke in my bed?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach and you turned towards him, a frown covering your lips. You didn’t answer him, you simply stared disdainfully into his caliginous eyes. His words had hit you like a slap across the face, so real that you almost wanted to hold your cheek. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say you were unjust in feeling that way. I just asked if that was your reasoning to figure we were close.” He replied once he realized you weren’t going to speak. He clicked his tongue and rose up from his chair and stalked towards you, reaching out with a hand to grab your chin. 

“My ambiguity is one of my greatest layers of armor.” He started. 

But you cut him off. 

“Right. But you’ll tell the first pretty girl that catches your eye your name and give up that ambiguity. Very selective of you.” 

He unfurled his finger from his grip on your chin and he tapped your lips to silence you. 

“Sometimes, to soften someone to your liking, you must strip away a piece of your armor. Miss Starkov is apprehensive at best regarding her situation. You require no such softening.” He explained and you took notice of the fact that he hadn’t bothered to move his finger away from your lips. 

“You trust me, and for that I am lucky and I am grateful. I needn’t reveal bits of myself to you just to make you trust in me. You simply just do. Little Moon Saint, I don’t need to take off my armors around you. You take them off for me whenever we are alone, whether you realize it or not.”

You shook your head just slightly and gazed up at him, warmth gathering under his touch on your face. 

“I know hardly anything about you.” You whispered, “How can I be removing your armor when I know nothing about you still?”

He shushed you and he leaned closer to your face, to where you could feel the air coming softly from his nose and you closed your eyes for a brief second before opening them again. 

“Most things about me go unspoken. I like it that way. You don’t need to know my history to know me. You don’t need me to beg you to trust me. You don’t question the deaths caused by my hands, and you know very well I don’t question the lives taken by yours. I told you. We are more alike than you could ever imagine.” He explained, his voice lowering, almost in reverence now, “Everything inside of me wants for you.” 

This, you weren’t expecting. 

And if that was a surprise to hear, it was even more of a surprise to feel his lips crash down against your own. 

-

The day of The Winter Fete came quickly. Thankfully, Aleksander had shared your sentiments in not wanting to have you display your power for the party. In fact, he was quite adamant on you being a secret kept from the rest of the world away from the palaces. You were thankful for that. 

You’d practically been inseparable from him in the weeks since he’d kissed you. He’d kissed you a handful of times in the time since then, too. Somewhere in the realm of the things that went unspoken but were simply known between the two of you, it had become evident that there were strong feelings between both of you. 

You hardly shied away from those feelings. If anything you were diving headfirst into them, which it seemed he was doing the same, because he’d insisted a handful of times in the last few weeks that you stay and sleep with him in his room. 

You liked to think that you cured his loneliness in the same way he had cured yours but you hadn’t had any confirmation on your daydream. 

So, there you sat, perched upon his desk while he nimbly unboxed a long, black gown for you. He held it up for you to see and you hummed approvingly. It was black with threads of dark blue and silver embroidered onto it in swirls and star like patterns. You smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What? No kefta for me? Do you think me to be delicate?” You teased and Aleksander let out a slow laugh before he laid the dress down on his bed and walked to you. He gently pulled you off of the desk and turned you around. He undid the buttons on the back of the current dress you wore and he tapped the back of your neck. 

“You are anything but delicate. Trust me. As much as I’d like to see you in a kefta, this isn’t the time for you to be revealed. You must keep up appearances, Lady y/n.” He explained and moved back only a step once your dress was undone. 

You blushed a bit and held the loose dress up to your chest, hesitating to take off your dress in front of him. 

Aleksander sensed this and he placed his hands gently on your elbows, “Would you like me to give you the room so that you can change in privacy?” He asked kindly, brushing his thumbs against your elbows. 

You shook your head. It’s not like you really minded, but you still had a set of nerves at the thought of undressing in front of the man you adored. 

You let out a very quiet, shaky breath and you let the dress fall away from your shoulders and you slowly stepped out of it, leaving you in only your underwear before him. You didn’t dare turn around, for if you did, Aleksander would’ve seen the horrific blush that covered your cheeks now. 

His hands found yours as they lay at your sides and he gently interlocked your fingers before he leaned forward and pressed a gossamer light kiss against the nape of your neck. You shivered under his lips and you could feel them curl into a smug smile against your skin. 

“I didn’t take you for the shy type, little one.” He murmured and very slowly lifted his lips away from your neck. 

You didn’t respond to him, you simply gave his hands a light squeeze, but much to your dismay, he pulled away and you heard him walk away from you. There was a swish of fabric behind you and then he was back, gently placing a hand on your waist to move you towards him a bit. He didn’t turn you around, and you were thankful for that.

Instead, he reached around you and held your dress in front of you for you to step into it. You were used to being dressed, it was common practice for you and had been for years because of your place at court. But this felt different, and though he was dressing you, you couldn’t help but feel as if Aleksander was at the core of it all, stripping you completely naked. There was a different kind of vulnerability to letting him dress you. 

You stepped into the dress and he slowly pulled it up over your hips and you slipped your arms into the sleeves and he lifted the bodice of the dress up over your shoulders completely and pulled it taut before he began to button up the long row of buttons at your back. After the last button was done up, he tied the ribbon at your waist tightly and then he encircled you in his arms from behind, tugging you backwards until you were pulled flush against his chest. 

“I wish desperately that I could parade you on my arm all night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a color look so lovely on anyone.” He whispered, resting his chin down against your shoulder. 

You leaned the side of your head against his and you placed your hands down on top of his wrists. 

“And I wish that you could kiss me breathless in a room, far away from the party, but alas, it seems we have duties to attend to.”

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” He asked playfully and with a hint of reluctance, pulled away from you. 

You finally willed yourself to turn around and face him. 

A look of reverence crossed his face and he reached out to cup the side of your face in one hand. The look in his lightless eyes was unreadable, but you got the sense his stare was altogether pleasant. 

“Tell me something.” He murmured and reached out to brush the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, though you felt like he was asking something entirely different. The look in his eye told you that he didn’t want to know if you found him to be trustworthy. His words unspoken were louder than the ones he’d verbalized. 

No, he meant to ask ‘do you trust me with your heart?’

You searched his face for a long moment before you finally nodded once and you watched as a flicker of relief splashed across his face, and for a second, you swore his eyes sparkled with tears that had been long since blinked away. 

He leaned in to kiss your forehead once and he dropped his hand away from your face and walked to the wardrobe next to his bed. He pulled on the rest of his clothing, save for his kefta, and you sunk down on a little sofa next to his bed, pulling your legs up underneath you as you watched him. 

He adjusted the collar of his shirt and as he did, the sound of footsteps distracted you from watching the man get ready. 

“Ivan. My kefta.” He called out, but once you looked past him, you could see that Ivan was not in the room. Only Alina. 

She took his heavy kefta off of his war table and approached him with hesitancy, not saying a word. 

When he turned around, his face changed in surprise and he shook his head once. 

“You’re not Ivan.” He remarked. 

Alina looked down at the kefta in her arms and shifted a bit. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Do I sense a little disdain for my Heartrender?” Aleksander asked, clearly amused now. 

You lifted your hand up to rest against the side of the sofa and moved close to the edge, perching yourself to stand. 

“You know, once you get to know him, he’s actually quite funny.” He added and you very slowly rose to your feet, your dress swishing. 

It didn’t rouse either of their attentions. 

“I bet you find volcra hilarious.” Alina quipped, eyes transfixed intently on Aleksander. 

He gave her a smile and she nodded to the kefta in her arms. 

“May I?” She asked, unfolding the thick garment. 

“Thank you.” He replied and turned around, allowing the Sun Summoner to slide the kefta around his shoulders. 

You eyed them warily and stayed silent, your teeth searching for a bit of your cheek you could bite down on. 

“I hear you were able to focus and split light without the gloves.” He spoke, eyeing you as he got his kefta on with her help. 

“I appreciate the gesture, though.” She responded, and you pressed your lips together. 

You stepped in front of Aleksander and pulled the lapels of his kefta forward to adjust the coat, your brow furrowing only slightly. You didn’t miss the amused smile that made the corners of his lips curl upwards before he turned back towards Alina.

“Well, they were only a safeguard, really. In case of nerves.” He informed her, and you watched as the girl leaned slightly closer to Aleksander. 

Half of you had made peace with the fact that you and Aleksander didn’t make it incredibly public knowledge that you… were together? Was that even the right way to describe your situation? You didn’t know how to answer that. Yet, the other half of you, despite clarification on where you stood with him, wanted to pull him backwards and stand between the two of them. You almost gagged in spite of yourself. Or maybe it was in spite of them.

“I imagine there are few gatherings in Keramzin that involve such… spectacle.” He commented down at her and you wanted to speak up. Make them aware that you were still in the room. 

No. Don’t. You told yourself. 

“None, in fact.” Alina answered. 

She peered over his shoulder and caught your eyes. You weren’t sure of what your face looked like, but she widened her eyes and quickly moved away from him.

“But I’m actually not that nervous! I may have considered throwing myself down the stairs to get out of it once or twice.”  She left his bed chambers and much to your antipathy, he followed her. 

You stood back for a moment as they continued to chat before you gathered the skirts of your dress and walked through the doorway of his bed chambers and brushed past the two of them, squaring your shoulders as you passed by. You slipped out of the room with a sigh of annoyance and you walked down the hallway. You listened to the taps of your boots against the marble floors and you puffed out your cheeks. 

Jealousy wasn’t something that came naturally or easily to you. You’d always been sure of yourself, aware that you were likely the prettiest face in the room, confident in your abilities and powers. You were almost sick to admit that perhaps you were jealous of Alina. 

She got to be by his side tonight. She got to wear a kefta just like him. She got to be shown off to the rest of the world as Ravka’s saving grace. 

You didn’t want that for yourself. Not really. But you didn’t want it for her, either, selfishly. 

Did you even have a right to feel jealous? It’s not like Aleksander had explicitly said that you were his and he was yours. You felt fair in assuming such, but then again, you’d always been a little too sure of yourself. 

You simply shook the thought away and headed off to report to the Queen. 

-

“Oh, it’s nothing, moya tsaritsa. Only a little headache. I’ll be off to find a healer and back to the party before you know it.” 

Lie. 

You felt bad lying to the Queen as you rose from your seat next to her and scurried out of the room. You’d made yourself scarce all day, with the exception of being with the Queen, and you planned on keeping the pattern. 

You just didn’t want to watch Aleksander and Alina. 

You walked out to the courtyard and weaved around horses and guests until you were on the outskirts of the palace grounds. You were thankful that you could finally breathe without sharing the breath with someone else in your proximity. The cool evening’s air swirled around what skin of yours was exposed and it chilled your cheeks, tinting them pink. You flexed your fingers a bit and tapped imaginary points in the air at your sides, little fissures of silvery light appearing underneath your fingertips. 

You tried your best to be apathetic about everything that you’d felt during the day, and you kept walking, approaching a thick bramble of trees.

A loud scream escaped your lips when you felt a cold hand clasp around your wrist and you yanked your wrist back, stumbling backwards on the uneven path. You fell back and caught yourself on your elbows, preparing your hands to summon the moon. Your eyes settled upon a head of white hair and you furiously widened your eyes.

“Baghra!” You yelled and looked down at your dress. It was dusty from the dirt and you could feel a little tear in your sleeve, just above your elbow, “What is the meaning of this?” You asked angrily. 

You climbed to your feet and stared down at the old woman, your lips tugging downwards in a heavy frown. 

“Don’t look at me like that, girl. You need to get away from here as quickly as you can.” She stated venomously and you gaped at her. You shook your head with a dry laugh and you went to speak but she cut you off instantly. 

“You are being used, you stupid girl. Aleksander. He is using you. Just the same way he is using the sun girl. I am warning you, y/n, please. You must go. I will tell her the same thing but hear me now-“

“What are you going on about?” You asked snappily, your eyes narrowing on her. 

“You and Alina Starkov are but pawns in Aleksander’s game. He does not mean to liberate Ravka from The Fold. He does not mean to create heroes out of the three of you. Has he promised you otherwise?” 

“No. He hardly speaks of The Fold to me.” You replied defensively. Your hand formed fists at your side and you could feel your fingers begin to thrum with the electric feeling of the moon pooling within them. 

“No? Perhaps he’s just too busy distracting you with sweet words and little touches? Keeping you from your lessons, insisting you don’t need them, only to drown you with his attention. Making you feel special and perhaps even loved?”

You didn’t respond, and your silence became her indication to keep speaking. 

“Trust me, stupid girl. He’s making Alina feel the same exact way.” She finished and then she shook her head, “Do what you will, Lady y/n. You’ve always known this to be your home. I understand it must be hard to fathom leaving, but if you want to live free of chains, you’ll go. I’ve arranged safe passage out of Os Alta tonight. If you wish to join Alina, then you’ll meet her and I down the hill behind The Grand Palace. Half past midnight.” 

You stared at her in disbelief and you wanted to argue, but she had already turned and retreated back into the trees, and you swore that you watched shadows engulf her.   

-

You were only human at your very core. 

That’s what you kept telling yourself as you cried into your hands on your balcony. Only human at your very core… right?

Who knew if Baghra was right? At least about Aleksander’s intentions. This isn’t what bothered you. 

“He’s making Alina feel the same exact way.” Her words echoed in your head and only made you cry harder, and you let out a frustrated groan and you hit the side of your head with the heel of your hand, as if the impact would knock the thought right out of your mind. 

It would explain her behavior earlier that day. It would easily explain how she, too, knew his name- and before you. It explained the way she gazed up at him; dreamily, as if she’d fallen head over heels already. 

You weren’t going to leave Os Alta, that was for certain. You couldn’t. You adored your Queen and you hadn’t known a life outside of the Ravkan Capital. You’d just learn to avoid Aleksander. Perhaps that was a good thing. It would cease your distractions from the Queen and King. 

“I’ve never seen you cry before. I don’t like it.” 

You jumped at the sound of Aleksander’s voice behind you and you wrapped your arms around yourself and you shook your head. 

“Go away please.” You whispered. 

You didn’t really want him to go away. Not deep down, at least. He probably knew that, too. He knew you better than anyone.

Hands gently grabbed your arms and coaxed you away from the iron railing of your balcony and you were being turned around before you could protest it. You didn’t meet his eyes when you were moved to face him. 

“I have been made aware that Baghra sought you out. I don’t know what was said, but I’m sure I can only assume it had something to do with planting doubt in your mind based on the way she was sure you’d have run far away from here by now. But you aren’t a runner. I know that.”

His words made more tears spill over your cheeks and you still refused to look at him until he tapped underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards slightly. 

“I care not about your intentions with The Fold, Aleksander. I said I trusted you and I meant it. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong though. Because I do care that you were stringing me along at the same time as Alina. If you needed something of me, it would’ve been best to lay it out on the table. Not bury me in your sweet kisses and words until I was nothing but a mindless slave with no questions for you.” 

“Is that what you believe you are to be to me? A mindless slave?” He asked and you simply shrugged. 

You expected an angry outburst, you expected him to chastise you loudly, but it never came. Instead, he took your face in his hands and he swiped his thumbs underneath your wet eyes to rid you of the tears on your cheeks. 

“You are strong and you are intelligent. No one could make a mindless slave out of you. Not even I. My kisses and gentle words are reserved for you and you alone. Not Alina. Never Alina. You, however. Oh, how do I begin? Ever since I watched you kill that Fjerdan, I knew that I had to have you by my side. One way or another. Though, as a lover was preferable.

You are disarming in the most wonderful way, and though you may not know all of my secrets yet, you have already released them from their chambers. I’m tempted to call you a thief with the way you’ve stolen my heart away, but if I’m to be honest with you, y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn't hand it to you willingly.” He murmured earnestly. His eyes shone with his own tears, and though they never fell, the message was still there. 

You fell forward over his chest and laid your head on the center of it and his arms weaved around you protectively. Defensively. Adoringly. 

He showered kisses atop your head and you two stood in silence for a very long time like that. 

Perhaps you’d be burned for trusting him this way. In every way. Perhaps you wouldn’t. Only time would tell. But in that moment, all that mattered was that he was there. Questions about Baghra’s words could wait. They weren’t meant to be spoken now. No words were meant to be spoken now. 

Until he did finally speak. 

“My love, I do hate to ruin such tender moments,  but I’m in desperate need of your help. There will be plenty of time for me to make up for every single tear spilled from your pretty eyes this evening, and that I promise you. However, your skill set is needed.” He said softly, his tone apologetic. 

You stayed against his chest for a while longer and then finally nodded, “Of course. Whatever you need, Aleksander.”

-

You walked hand in hand with The Darkling down the candlelit hallway, deep within the Palace, and you two were accompanied by one of his Squallers, Zoya. 

Aleksander had filled you in quickly. Alina had been kidnapped and there had been an attempt on her life. You couldn’t help but feel relieved that you hadn’t been the one on his arm all night now. They now held a man associated with the crime deep underneath the Palace, and they needed him to talk. 

That’s where you came in. 

“Has he talked?” He asked, his hand tightening around yours in a manner you could only imagine was protective.  

“A lot of lies,” Zoya answered, “Ivan’s with him.” 

You entered the room with him and Zoya and your eyes fell upon Ivan’s intimidating figure standing tall behind a small, pudgy man who was bound to a chair. 

“I’ve been swindled,” The man said simply, desperation twinging his words, “hoodwinked.”

Aleksander didn’t seem to care and he squeezed your hand once more. 

“My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.” He spoke. 

You rolled your shoulders back and stood tall, carefully releasing your hand. If you were to get answers out of this man, he had to fear you. You didn’t much command fear while clutching your General’s hand. 

“Yes. I followed them.” The man insisted. 

“Followed whom?” Aleksander prompted, lifting his head curiously. 

“They come from the other side of The Fold. From the start, they seemed, just, a bit off to me, so when they left our stage, at the fete, I followed them. To see what they were up to, and at the time that I walked into that room, they were gone and… Saints, it was… unspeakable. So I ran… I…” 

You snorted and then you stepped forward, “No, that’s not the truth.” You interjected and then looked to Ivan with a raised eyebrow. 

“He did cross The Fold with the others,” Ivan began, “The rest were lies.” 

You gave a satisfied nod and you looked up at Aleksander who swept his hand out for you, inviting you to step closer to the man. 

The man began to insist that he wasn’t lying, but you and everyone else in that room knew, you couldn’t lie to a Heartrender. 

You stepped behind the man and you laid your hands on his temples, “Do you want to tell the truth to The General?” You asked lowly. He didn’t respond. 

“Do you know we keep records of everyone who crosses The Fold?” Aleksander began, and then rattled off the known passages for the evening. 

“You didn’t cross with them. Did you?” You asked, leaning down close to his ear. 

He shuddered but he didn’t answer. You looked up at Aleksander who nodded and you closed your eyes. Your fingertips began to glow and they grew so cold that they burned, you pressed them tightly against the man’s skin and he clenched his teeth. You eased off a bit and then cleared your throat. 

“You have another way across The Fold. What is it?” You asked slowly. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He protested, but Ivan cut him off. 

“He does.” 

You sighed and brought forth your power again, this time a bit more and he winced sharply as the bitter cold from your fingers cut into his skin and left it frostbitten. 

“I’m an entertainer!” He exclaimed, “Oskar, Oskar Krepkov!” He shouted as you pushed more of your light forth, watching his veins turn white and stony underneath your touch, just as they’d been filled with moonstone. 

You eased off when Aleksander came towards the two of you and lifted up the man’s sleeve. 

“Well that is certainly entertaining. You are The Conductor,” he said darkly, revealing scars of tallies up his inner forearm, “Arken Visser, are you not?“ he pulled away from the man and gave you a nod again as he walked away.

“You smuggle Grisha out of my palace! You help them abandon the war effort.”

“No, I deal in-“ he was cut off by a sudden sharp pain in his head, caused by you pressing the heels of your hands to the hardened veins over his temples. You closed your eyes tightly and worked to spread the unforgiving cold of your light through his head, feeling it spread through his veins while Aleksander questioned the man about a woman named Nina. 

You zoned back in as Aleksander finished, and you opened your eyes to look up at him. 

“…might that have something to do with you, Mr. Visser?” He asked, in reference to Nina’s disappearance. 

“No.” He answered shakily, his teeth now beginning to chatter. You were lowering his body temperature by now surely, and his lips began to glaze over, tinted with blue. 

“I don’t!” He protested again, his voice shaky. Ivan confirmed this and the man let out a shaking sigh, “See?”

“May I interject?” You asked and looked up at Aleksander who nodded once. 

“By all means, Darling. Speak your mind.” He said with a little grin licking at the corners of his lips. 

“You might want to begin talking, Mr. Visser. Your heart is slowing and you are freezing from the inside out. The light of the moon is a cold one.” You whispered and you felt him stiffen under your hands. 

Aleksander had a proud smirk on his face and he glanced back down at Arken. 

“My guess, you struck a deal with these three thieves to kidnap Alina Starkov. But you have a stronger relationship with a certain West Ravkan general, who has notions of ruling his own country. So long as The Fold separates him from us- darling, I think you’re being too gentle with him,” he added for you, and then walked around the chair, brushing past you gently, “So you made another deal. You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin.”

You took a deep breath and summoned more of your power, the beams of light from your hands beginning to sear into the skin of his temples.

“That’s right!” He cried, in obvious pain, “The prize to bring her back to Ketterdam was a million! Split four ways. But Zlatan offered me the same number… to kill her, so,” he let out another scream as you tightened your grip on his head and Aleksander’s eyes widened, “you give me half that, I’ll get revenge for you. I can get close to Zlatan!” He tried to bargain, but he didn’t have much left to bargain with. 

Aleksander looked at Ivan and Zoya pointedly and they began to walk away. 

“No.” Aleksander answered and then looked up at you, “I think I’ll handle that myself. And I think… I’ll let my lovely Moon Summoner handle you.” 

He gave you a short nod and stood with his hands behind his back and you nodded back at him. 

Arken began to scream and protest between the chattering of his teeth and you rolled your shoulders back, and just like the Fjerdan that attacked Alina, you shot a bright beam of silver light through his temples and let go, watching as his head fell back limply on his neck. 

Aleksander stepped towards you just as you stepped away from the now dead man, and he grasped your freezing wrists, pulling you to his chest.

“Promise me,” he began, leaning down close to your face, “Promise me that you’ll stand by my side forever. We will be revered, formidable. I will give you a crown, I will give you my love, I will give you whatever you ask for, if you promise me forever.” He pleaded and stared down into your eyes desperately. 

There was nothing that you wanted more in that moment and you studied his black eyes for a long time, searching for any sense of trickery within them, but all you found was the same want that you wore within your own eyes. 

Perhaps you’d be burned for trusting him this way. In every way. Perhaps you wouldn’t. Only time would tell. All you could do was accept his offer now, and give him your payment in the form of three words.  

“I promise. Forever.”

[yukidragon]

Sunshine in Hell Height Headcanons

It's June 15, which as many of you know from this official profile, that it's Sunny Day Jack's birthday today!

You might also know that it's [Redacted]'s birthday thanks to this ominous picture Sauce shared last year on this day. Funny how these two totally distinct characters share a birthday isn't it? 🤔

Anyway, I was hoping to have written something for this year to celebrate, but like last year my spoons are way too few and far between. I was also hoping to do something self-indulgent for my own birthday, but same lack of spoons halted me there too.

So, until I can stock up on more metaphorical utensils to help me do the stuff I feel like doing, I'm going to celebrate by rambling a little bit about some headcanon details.

Sunshine in Hell differs from the game demos in a number of ways, and one of them is Jack's height. As you might've seen from the profile link, Jack is canonically 6'2", but in my personal headcanon continuity, I decided to make the gentle giant quite a bit taller than that. Because it amuses me, and I struggle with imagining Jack as shorter than Cove Holden.

When deciding how tall to make Jack in my stories, I also decided to do a height chart for him and a few other characters as well. It helps to better imagine characters interacting when you can see how tall they are compared to others.

Yes, I threw in a few extra love interests to the mix, as well as a couple other MCs. I was curious to see how tall Alice would be compared to her sisters, and I had to throw in their love interests as well.

As an aside, it tickles me that even after I made Jack significantly taller, he's shorter than Bo's horny "Feed Me" form.

For those of you that need the conversion from centimeters to feet and inches, or have trouble reading the image, I'll write them down for easy reference.

Alice: 162 cm / 5'4"

Jack: 198 cm / 6'6"

Shaun: 178 cm / 5'10"

Nick: 173 cm / 5'8"

Ian: 170 cm / 5'7"

Bo: 180 cm / 5'11"

Barbie: 184 cm / 6'0"

Bo "Feed Me" form: 216 cm / 7'1"

Elias: 185 cm / 6'1"

Coraline: 172 cm / 5'8"

As you can see, Shaun, Nick, and Ian stuck with the canon heights in their profiles. It's just Jack who got a height increase because it's what I imagined his height to be from the start, and Sunshine in Hell is basically my headcanons that diverge from the game's canon, so I do what I want. It's also fun to imagine scary yandere Jack towering over every single one of the love interests. It adds to the intimidation factor too despite his gentle giant persona.

Bo and Elias don't have canon heights like the SDJ love interests, so I mostly just did whatever felt right to me for them. Bo's regular height was influenced by the mafia AU picture Sauce drew. It served as a very good height comparison chart all on its own. As you can see, Bo is just tall enough to reach Jack's smile if you don't count the ears and poofy hair.

All credit to the awesome Sauce for their lovely art of course and for feeding my headcanons. As always, I want to link to the SnaccPop Patreon as gratitude for being cool with me using their art in my posts. If you're a a free or paying member, consider checking out an important survey that went up to help guide the team in their future endeavors.

Bo looks so short compared to Jack, doesn't he? In my headcanon land, it's just a matter of perspective, and next to other people Bo is pretty darn tall. Though he's just one teeny tiny inch shorter than his puppy.

You bet your sweet bippy Barbie takes smug satisfaction in that one inch height superiority. Bo talks so big as a big bad alpha dog, but the puppy he's trying to dominate is just a bit bigger and badder than he ever expected.

Of course, Bo gets to turn it right back around on Barbie with his monster sized "Feed Me" form. Like werewolves that become huge compared to their human selves, when Bo's inner beast comes out to play, he adds on quite a lot of height and muscle. He towers over even Jack! Still, even when super sized, he's no match for Barbie.

As you can see, despite being the eldest child, Alice is shorter than her two younger sisters, especially Barbie! They got more of their dad's height genes, while Alice took more after their mom in that department. Barbie and Coraline are quite a bit taller than average, a fact that Barbie revels in, and Coraline can find a little awkward sometimes, especially during moments of weakness. It can be hard to help someone stand back up and walk when they're much taller than you are after all. It leads to some embarrassing moments for poor Coraline.

On that same note of surprisingly tall people with chronic illnesses, I thought it would be interesting if Elias would have been a very tall man if not for his illness. There's no canon height for him and he's floating with Jack and Bo in the Christmas picture, so it's hard to go with a comparative height. So, I went with what felt narratively interesting to me. With his legs being twisted, and him being hunched over with a cane, he probably appeared shorter than he actually was. It's hard to see his exact height with his lower half ghostly and indistinct as well. It's only when he actually bothers to give himself legs and stand with both feet planted firmly on the ground that he can show off just how tall he really is.

While I'm on the topic of height, I wonder if one of Ian's insecurities was his height. Some men have issues if they're shorter than their peers, and Ian is the shortest of the love interests. I can imagine it certainly didn't help if he was bullied for being short along with his general "nerdy" appearance back in school.

Still, Ian has nothing to complain about at the height he's at as a fully grown adult. Even if the other love interests are taller than he is, Ian is still above average for men in the US. He's just got the misfortune of being the shortest guy in a group of very tall people. At least he doesn't have to worry about taking the bottom spot in the height chart like Alice.

Yes, Alice is a bit self-conscious about being so short compared to her peers, even if technically she's also above average height for a woman in the US. She feels especially tiny when standing next to Jack.

Though, admittedly, Alice does find it very nice to feel tiny and delicate when Jack sweeps her up into his arms. It makes her feel less self-conscious about how chubby she is when her big strong giant of a boyfriend can carry her around so easily. Once she gets over the initial fear that he might drop her, she'll soon look forward to being whisked away by her silly clown.

Oh, and if you're wondering about Mary's height... I'm still debating if I want her to be around Alice's height or a little taller. She had the same eye color in both lives due to the eyes being windows to the soul, but there were other physical differences due to different parents introducing different genetics. I need to ruminate on that fine of detail more and see what feels more interesting to me narratively.

Though even if Mary was as tall as Barbie, she'll still be short enough for Joseph to sweep into her arms since he's just as much of a giant now as he was then. Not that it would stop him from trying even if his sunshine was bigger than him. Nothing will stop Joseph/Jack from showing his love for his sunshine!

I think I'll wrap things up on that fluffy note. I hope y'all enjoyed me going off on a headcanon ramble after such a long time. With any luck, I'll be able to get to answering some asks soon. Thanks for reading!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Jason Dean dating someone who's transmasc

Warnings: brief mentions of transphobia, canon typical stuff such as bullying, swearing, violence, murder, etc, slight suggestive things but nothing that's full on smut (I might make another post with that later), smoking (because we all know our boy JD smokes like a chimney), mentions of dysphoria, mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, some forcemascing by JD (sorry I couldn't resist)

A/N: I did a Veronica version of this like two years ago and since I'm currently obsessed with JD (and it's pride month) I felt the urge to write one for him too (also because I've come to the conclusion that I might just be transmasc and not genderfluid so this is mostly just written for me)

I wanna start off by saying that yes JD is an asshole, but he'd never be (intentionally) transphobic. However, if he thought you were trans then he would push your buttons a little bit to see how long it would take you to admit it, especially if you met before you came out

Let's say you two started dating when you still saw yourself as a girl or something (I know that JD's supposed to be "straight" or whatever but he's bisexual to me okay fight me on it). If he saw you acting a little uncomfortable being referred to as his girlfriend or having to use the women's restroom at school he would 100% call you out on it

Not in a degrading way or anything like that, just to see how you would react to it. The second you start to get defensive or give him the silent treatment he shuts up, not only because he accomplished what he set out to do but also because he feels a little bad

Eventually you just decide to rip off the bandaid and come to terms with the fact that you're actually a trans guy, him being one of the first people you tell. His only real response to this "startling revelation" is to look at you and go "Yeah I kind of figured that one out for myself already, I was just waiting for you to"

Your worries that he'd want to break up with you after telling him disappeared almost immediately as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes at him. "Ha ha, very funny smartass"

If you decide you want to cut your hair shorter then he will absolutely offer to help you with it, insisting that there's no reason for you to go to a professional with him there (it's totally not just because he's very possessive and would never let anyone else touch your hair other than him, that's crazy)

You may have wore his clothes some before, but he practically begs you to do it after you come out. Why would you ever need to go shopping when you can just raid his closet, y'know? Plus seeing you in them really turns him on

He gets ten times more protective afterwards too, constantly following you around to make sure you're okay. You could have classes that take place at the same time on opposite sides of the school and he'll always skip his to join you. Eventually the teachers just move his class schedule around to match with yours since he never attends his anyway

Always has an arm wrapped around you no matter what, especially if he sees someone like Kurt and Ram passing by. It's best to distract him with kisses or something so he won't hear the things they call you and get mad (he hears them anyway but can't resist making out with you so he lets it slide for the time being)

Speaking of making out, he does it with you everywhere and all the time, whether it's a modern au or the 80s. He's not worried about what people say or do, usually letting his gun do all the talking. He shoots them is what I'm trying to get at here lol

Most people are much too scared to even breath too loud near you because of your attack dog boyfriend but if it ever does happen that you get bullied (whether that be verbally or physically) he will go out of his way to make sure the local morgues, cemeteries, and funeral homes have plenty of business

Feeling anxious or stressed about having to spend time with/be around someone who misgenders/deadnames you? Just let him tag along. He might not say much but what he will do is very passive-aggressively correct said person on their "mistakes". It pretty much always works as no one wants to argue with a guy who frequently carries a gun

It's not the best habit around but he probably gets you hooked on smoking at least occasionally, especially if he hears you complain about your voice being too high. Oh, you're worried that you sound too feminine and "girly"? He has the perfect way to get you that low and gravelly voice that you want! You think he's talking about voice training or something until he hands you a pack of cigarettes and with the most serious expression ever says "these will do wonders"

Even if you don't smoke religiously like he does it's kind of hard to resist it completely given how often he lights up a cigarette (and yes, he will blow smoke into your face, because while he loves you he's also an asshole and thinks it's funny when you wrinkle up your nose in disgust at him)

He's not the best at comforting you when it comes to days where you feel dysphoric. Like, he won't flat out say that he thinks you're acting ridiculous because he knows it would only make things worse, but he's also not great when dealing with emotions, so the most he might do is let you cling to him while he gives you a few awkward pats on the back

If this goes on for days borderlining on weeks, however, that's when he'll start to act less sensitive and give you a bit of tough love. "What are you talking about saying that you 'don't look like a guy'? Are you crazy? You really think life would be better if you were still living as a girl? Do you honestly think that would make you happy?"

It surprisingly works, believe it or not. Even if you know he's purposely trying to rile you up it ends up making you feel better and more confident in yourself. Anytime he notices you starting to slip back into feelings of self doubt or insecurity, he just wraps you up in his arms and whispers soft encouragements in your ear. "You were never a girl, you just need to work a little bit harder than others to grow into the man that you are. If anything, that's a testament to your strength for being able to do that"

This certainly happens whenever you're on your period and feel grouchier or less confident than usual. "You're so strong for being able to endure this every month, did you know that? You're much braver than I am, I doubt I'd be able to get through it as well as you"

Sometimes you almost start crying because of how emotional his words make you feel, and sometimes you roll your eyes with annoyance while muttering "you're a condescending asshole" under your breath. Either way it ends up making you feel better, especially when he offers to rub your lower abdomen when your cramps get too bad

If you decide to start HRT then he wants to be there to help you take the shots, even if you insist you can do it yourself (he likes being part of the process of helping you "turn into" a man). Same thing if you use T gel or whatnot, he gets really pouty if you ever apply it without him

He's not really the best person to do "guy bonding" activities with unless you like making pipe bombs or planning the murders of people you hate (hypothetically speaking, of course) but if there's anything like that you want to try out then he'll definitely be there to support you. Like I don't know, hunting/fishing? Or watching sports games while drinking beer? Or breaking out the toolbox and fixing things around the house? Sorry I don't really know things that guys do despite being one myself 😭

The only exception to that is probably car maintenance. I see him as being very protective over his motorcycle and learning how to take care of it himself so he doesn't have to worry about taking it to the shop and having them screw it up. He'd be happy to teach you about how to change your own oil and might even teach you how to ride it as long as you don't accidentally scratch up his paint job. He might not kill you for it, but he will be very upset and end up ignoring you for a few hours afterwards

Purposely introduces/refers to you as his boyfriend in front of others just to see your face light up with confidence. It's not like JD has a lot of friends or anything but anyone that he does know feels as if they've met you already because of how he much he talks about you (he's totally that one annoying person you know who never shuts up about their partner ever)

All in all, I'd say he's a relatively good boyfriend in general, but especially if you're transmasc. Solid 8/10 (one point was deducted for his slight insensitivity and another was due to his crazy streak. Sorry JD I promise I still love you </3)

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

End notes: this ended up being much longer than I anticipated but I have absolutely no regrets whatsoever at all

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @the-night-owl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @pregnantmen @theonetruepotato87

[24hlevi]

Hiya I love finding blogs who write for sbg!

Can I request Tyler Hernandez X taller male reader? Reader is always touching Tyler in one way or another and it annoys Tyler to no end. Sorry idk if that's enough info or not 😭

thank you so much for requesting this!! i love tyler so much he is my beloved fr hes mlm IN MY MIND!!!

— GLOW

tyler hernandez (sbg) x male!reader

summary: being tyler's taller bf who is extremely affectionate

warnings/tags: language, internalized homophobia (?), established relationship

• being taller than tyler had some perks, like being able to rest your arm on his head to which he swats your arm away so fast people thought he hated you rather than you two were dating

• tyler is not a very touchy guy in general and he doesn't particularly enjoy a whole lot of PDA, but he can't seem to get genuinely irritated whenever you do touch him

• it annoys him, yes, but it isn't a true irritation unlike if someone (aiden.) tried to do it to him, this is actually what had taylor second guessing tyler's feelings for you, cause she knows if anyone else tried that they would get their shit rocked

• then taylor confronts him on these feelings and he's like "ohmygod what??? no???" and then the next day comes around and your arm is wrapped around his shoulder, he has a scowl on his face but isn't doing anything as the gang stares like 🤨

• tbh tyler probably sees height as a dominant attribute, and he doesn't like feeling like he isn't the dominant one in a relationship being shorter than you, but all you have to do is reassure him a little bit and he'll sulk like a wet cat and just mumble and "okay"

• but tbh it probably also depends on how much taller you are compared to him. idk any of their canon heights but if you're over a few inches he would be borderline insecure about it, but again just reassure him and he'll be okay

• now, tyler may not like affection or PDA in public or at school, he is clinging onto it desperately when you two are alone or at his house, he is literally clinging to you and won't let go

• however he still insists on being the big spoon despite being shorter than you, that or he just lays on his back and lets you cuddle into his side which he always denies he enjoys but he loves it on the inside

• the thing with tyler and PDA in public is that he's a little concerned about how people would react to your relationship. being on the baseball team, he doesn't want being with you to affect either of your after school activities, so he asks you in the beginning to keep it to a minimum

• if you're upset by this, do let him know! he doesn't want to hurt your feelings, he just wants to be sure that nothing happens to you two, even though he would kick anyones ass that tried anything. letting him know of this, he realizes maybe he's just afraid and needs to let go of that, so he does! for you! what a lover boy

• after this talk, tyler would be much more open to PDA in public or at school, but his games/practices are off limits because he needs to "focus" even if he ends up fucking up cause he was too busy paying attention to you on the stands, but he will take a good luck kiss beforehand and one after especially if they win

• that being said, he still always looks like -_- whenever you're touching him around others especially the gang because aiden will always say something and you have to hold tyler back from beating him up

• if you two fall asleep near the others they are all definitely taking pictures of you two to use as blackmail for tyler mainly, and aiden will probably draw on his face and then have to run off when he wakes up

[lycankeyy]

Jesus Christ these doodles already feel so old . I was not lying I really am using this fixation to speedrun learning to draw humans LMAO. Anyway I made some of those silly "understand ship in 5 minutes" memes with my Favorite pairings in funkycule au not ALL of them just the ones that I brainrot hardest about. If I did one for all of them we'd be here all day I'd probably hit image limit it's called the funkycule for a reason

ANYWAY infodumping/details under the cut:

BF/GF/Pico:

I am a "BF and GF are Fucking Tall™️" truther because it's funny to me. With BF it's harder to tell because his posture is absolutely atrocious but GF is just So Fucking Tall

I'm going to be honest with the gender headcanon for BF. I guess I default to him being transmasc but I can see him as. Like. Anything. In fact I think he's just every gender. But I'm a coward so he's transmasc for the purposes of the chart. GF is a girl but identifying her as "cis" or "trans" doesn't mean much when demon genders don't really work like that. It's complicated. Pico is just a guy

Pico likes being the big spoon because he likes knowing that his partners are safe. However GF likes being the big spoon More. The result is Pico Sandwich. He will never admit it but Pico feels the safest he ever has in his entire life when he is being Pico Sandwiched

BF is very much a verbal affection type of guy. Yes he is nonverbal. His words of affection are various dubstep noises. His partners appreciate it so much

BF grew up kinda spoiled and never really learned how to cook. However after noticing that Pico is like extremely bad at feeding himself (canon six pack means nothing to me. That boy is skin and bones I won't be told otherwise /silly) he for the first time managed to convince himself to try it and he got Really into it he's actually good at it. He still loses his mind when GF makes him pb&j sammiches for dinner though it's his favorite thing in the world

Pico is Insanely overprotective mostly because he's extremely hypervigilant and sees potential danger in everything. BF is the exact opposite and even in situations where he's in immediate danger he'll be ironically more worried about Pico getting too worried about it. GF is also pretty ditzy about this due to her confidence that her boys can handle Anything but if either of them ever got hurt she would explode everyone in a 50 mile radius with her mind so like that counts for something

Random headcanon: the group's favorite date night activity is looking up an extremely bad movie and then commentating over it like old-school rage youtubers the whole time in an effort to see who can get the others to laugh the hardest. BF wins often because the flatness of the TTS voice he uses adds something to the humor of it

Pico/Darnell:

I kinda bounced around with what label to use for Darnell for a while. I definitely see him as arospec, with the stipulation that he does feel romantic attraction just like very not traditionally and after a Long Time. After going between quoiromantic and demiromantic for a bit I landed on grey bc it's open-ended enough to encompass it. The point is it took Darnell like 3 full years to realize that his feelings were less platonic than he thought and even then theyre still like. Only half-romantic lmao

Unfortunately as he cannot provide the Pico Sandwich Darnell is getting little spoon'd by a guy nearly a foot shorter than him. F

Pico and Darnell are pretty verbally coarse with each other in a way only people who've been through the amount of shit they have been together can be w/o jeopardizing their relationship. That being said they often express affection and insane amounts of trust through actions very frequently, sometimes even without either of them realizing. Them immediately making up after weekend 1 was one of those times lol

I put Pico on the "squashes the bug" end of both charts but in reality I think he just takes them outside unless it's like a gnat or something. Darnell isn't scared of bugs he just wonders what would happen if he set one on fire. Pico refuses to let him set them on fire

Even though Pico 2 is in a weird limbo state in funkycule just like it is irl, there's still some point in the timeline where Pico expressed protectiveness over Darnell, to the point where, years later, when Darnell heard Pico took down a whole army for BF and GF, he got jealous, because that was supposed to be their thing >:(. This was quickly followed by his Oh moment

Random headcanon: Pico and Darnell had been acquaintances for the whole time they were in school together, but they became friends when Pico (and Nene by proxy) were the only kids to continue hanging out with him after The Class Presentation Gone Wrong (Darnell Plays with Fire). To return the favor, Darnell stuck by Pico even after the events of PS fundamentally changed him as a person. Though their relationship can be messy, they've been virtually inseperable since.

Nene/Cassandra:

The levels of toxicity of this are mostly dependant on When in the timeline by the time these two are like 21 they've normalized a bit dw lmao

Okay so like. I've made so much Lore. For Pico's School. For no reason. Anyway penilians have nothing against child soldiers so Cas was shipped off to infiltrate Earth at the penilian equivalent of 13. Also while on a surface level she's transfem in more depth it's like "all penilians are One Sex and have One Gender so technically she is xenogender, using neopronouns, and if you want to be extra silly with it, by the time she's 19 she's functionally alienkin but for humans as a coping mechanism for being banished to earth (dw abt it)"

[Projects my trauma and its side effects onto Nene] who said that

I didn't think much on the borrowing clothes thing until I realized that I draw Nene and Cassandra wearing the same style of turtlenecks I was like. Do you know what would be really funny

I don't have many intimate cute headcanons for these two Yet because I'm so early on in developing my shit and these two are Not cute at first. However I do like to imagine that Nene calls Cas all kinds of over-the-top cutesy or stupid nicknames just to get a reaction out of her. She called her a "vixen" as a furry joke + something between a compliment and insult once and she almost died

Nene is literally the only one in this entire cast who's never gotten her license suspended also she's somewhat good at car maintence which Cas find inexplicably hot

Giggles and kicks my feet at putting both Pico and Cassandra at the far end of the overprotectiveness spectrum. Anyway

Random headcanon: in the short period of time before Cas started ghosting Nene and FNF happening, they were in contact for One Christmas when they were like 15. Nene got Cas a cute little switchblade with hearts carved into the handle. Cas keeps it in a box by her bed and refuses to let anyone touch it or to let it ever get dirty.

If you have read this far I love you. Here is your reward should you choose to accept it:

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter nine | in plain sight.

masterlist

pairing : battinson x fem!oc (can be read as x reader)

words : +3k

A/N : This chapter is a bit shorter than usual since it was originally part of Chapter Eight. A special thank you to @faeryki for your amazing support—it really keeps me motivated to keep updating this fic. I hope you enjoy it and like this chapter! 😊

cw : Bruce being obsessed at this point, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, depression, ptsd, noire, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk !

IT WAS HIM.

No, it wasn’t.

Yes, it fucking was.

Her mind screamed in a frantic battle, two voices tearing her apart.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and her pulse surged, each beat a frantic drum as the truth unraveled in her mind—a shattered, tangled mess slowly coming together.

His eyes—those grey-blue eyes, the same ones that had haunted her thoughts more than once—stared back at her, and the recognition hit like a tidal wave.

It wasn't just the eyes, though. It was also his jawline.

That sharp, angular line, the one she could pick out from anywhere, no matter how dark the room.

But there was more.

The little cut beneath his jaw—the scar she'd left him when they were chasing each other, when she had let him get too close that night.

She hadn’t meant to, not really, but she caught him right as he was about to turn, in that split second when everything seemed to slow down. She left a small mark on him, something only she would ever notice. In that moment, he didn’t feel like a stranger.

As she walked through the crowd, her hand instinctively pressed against her red lips, her mind still in shock. It all made sense now, she thought.

The way he had looked at her, the way he had moved, everything about him screamed familiarity.

But the truth had been concealed behind the mask of a man she had never fully understood—Bruce Thomas Wayne. Billionaire heir. Tragic orphan. Vengeance. The Bat… Zorro.

Her footsteps faltered, her breath shallow, as the weight of the revelation pressed down on her, too heavy to carry. People hurried past her, heading toward the main hall, brushing against her shoulders, murmuring quick apologies she didn’t respond to.

The scene back at the entrance of City Hall was nothing short of chaotic—the crowd pushing, the tension between the men—still fresh in her mind, vivid and overwhelming.

But now, everything had shifted.

The man who had captivated her without her even realizing it, the one who kept his distance yet left an indelible mark on her, had been standing right in front of her the entire time.

And somehow, she had never connected the dots, never seen the truth through the fog of lies she had wrapped herself in.

She continued walking, her feet moving of their own accord, though her mind raced to catch up. She wasn't sure if she should be angry, surprised, or relieved.

Maybe a little bit of all three. And yet, the thought that kept swirling in her mind, like a persistent whisper, was the same: How could he have been so close, and yet, so far away?

She needed to regain herself.

Standing at the threshold of City Hall, the weight of the revelation—of seeing him again, of everything she had just discovered—crashed over her, but she couldn't afford to let it consume her.

Not now.

She had a purpose, a responsibility that was far more pressing than her own chaotic emotions. There were people waiting, people who needed her strength, and there was George.

She didn't like his father—had never trusted the man—and she barely knew his widowed mother.

But George was still a child who had just lost a parent. A child who needed someone who understood. She had been there herself, had known that hollow ache, the unbearable weight of loss. She understood what it was like to feel invisible in the face of grief, to be caught in the middle of a world that seemed to keep moving while your heart was frozen in time.

With a steadying breath, she opened her small clutch and took out the figurine.

It was delicate, simple, a small knight in polished metal, its stance strong but humble.

Maryam had bought it at a little shop while grocery shopping the day before, drawn to it for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

It was reminiscent of the one Bruce had left years ago in the subway, the one she had never forgotten, though this one was less ornate, far less expensive, and more... ordinary. Yet something about it felt right.

Maybe it was the symbolism of it—the idea of a knight, standing tall, in the face of all odds. She couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, in some way, it would bring George comfort.

She ran her fingers along the smooth surface, a small smile tugging at her lips as she thought about him again.

Gosh, why were they always linked? she thought, frustration threading through the question.

She and Bruce—always drawn to each other by some strange, unspoken pull.

Maybe it was fate, or perhaps something far more insidious, but every time she thought she was escaping him, every time she thought she had let him go, some new twist would bring him back into her orbit.

She pushed the thought away.

There would be time for that later.

Now, she needed to focus.

As Bruce scans the crowd, the solemn hum of the mourning event fills the hall. Mourners continue to flood in, their somber expressions a blur as he searches, his eyes darting over every face, every moving figure. 

Where is she?

His gaze flicks between the tight knots of conversation, desperate for a glimpse of Maryam, his pulse quickening.

Above, he spots a handful of officers, their keen eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble, the tension palpable. Bruce's focus sharpens, but the crush of people is like a living, breathing wall. Faces blur together—some tear-streaked, some stony, all wrapped in the weight of loss.

She's here, he thinks, she has to be.

The PA announcer's voice cuts through the noise.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to today's memorial for our beloved mayor, Don Mitchell, Jr. Our program will begin shortly. As a reminder, the family asks that those wishing to honor the mayor's memory consider a donation to the cause most dear to his heart, the Gotham Renewal Fund, our city's safety net."

Bruce barely registers the words. 

His attention is elsewhere, weaving through the sea of mourners, his heart pounding as his search intensifies. He pushes forward, his eyes scanning, never pausing, never faltering.

Then, a movement catches his eye. 

Two uniformed cops are stopping a man who looks out of place—a scruffy, bitter figure, his hood pulled low, eyes filled with rage. 

The man's jaw tightens, muttering to himself, his anger almost palpable.

"What good's a safety net if it doesn't catch anybody?" The words slice through the air, harsh and accusatory. He spits the words out, clearly disgusted. "Didn't help my daughter when she needed it. I can tell you that. That guy—" He points toward the VIPs filing past, his voice filled with venom—"just another rich scumsucker. He got what he deserved."

Bruce studies the man, his brow furrowing. But as his gaze holds steady, the bitter man's eyes shift, catching his. 

"Yeah, I said it," the man mutters, locking eyes with Bruce, a dark smirk curling his lips.

Bruce's eyes flick to the man's acne-scarred face. The bitterness is familiar, the kind that seeps from the forgotten corners of society. He nods once, acknowledging the man's presence, but his thoughts stay elsewhere.

Then, the expression shifts. The man's eyes narrow as he studies Bruce, confusion flashing over his face as if he's trying to place him. Before Bruce can turn away, another voice pierces through the tension.

"Bruce Wayne."

Startled, Bruce turns. A familiar face—one that he had been saying more and more on TV. 

Bella Real.

She approaches with the kind of unwavering confidence that commands attention, her stride purposeful, her expression an enigmatic blend of determination and restraint.

"I'm Bella Real," she begins, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise around them. "I'm running for mayor." She pauses, just long enough to let her words settle, then adds with a flicker of irritation, "I wouldn't be here, interrupting like this, but your people keep telling me you're 'unavailable.' Or at least that's the story my PR team keeps feeding me."

She gestures subtly toward a woman standing amidst the sea of onlookers—a polished figure with a sleek bun, tailored black trousers, a long coat, and heels that seem to challenge the ground beneath her. Rania. Another of Maryam’s sisters.

Beside her is the pregnant woman from earlier, her husband standing protectively close, and flanking them are Maryam’s other sisters—Sherine, the sharp-eyed journalist, and Alma, the soon-to-be lawyer with a poised demeanor. 

Yet the one person he’s searching for, the one he’s desperate to see, remains nowhere in sight.

Bella’s gaze sharpens as she turns back to him, her words cutting through his distracted thoughts. "Will you walk with me?"

Bruce hesitates, the weight of the situation pressing in.

Walk with her? He’s here for Maryam—though, initially, it was the Riddler who brought him here.

His thoughts waver, scattered like leaves in the wind. But as the moment stretches longer, he steels himself, forcing his composure to hold firm.

He can't afford distractions, but Bella is persistent, and something about her energy—something in her voice—stops him.

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face as he glances over her shoulder, the crowd of mourners pressing in tighter, the path to Maryam growing narrower by the second. 

But there's no turning back now.

Bruce's mind spins as Bella leads him through the sea of mourners, her arm tucked firmly under his. 

He's scanning the crowd, eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign of Maryam. The city's chaos, the event, the memory of the Riddler's cryptic clues, and his need to track down his old friend, and the woman who's been lingering at the back of his mind for far too long, all converge in his thoughts.

He barely registers Bella's words about Gotham, the Renewal Fund, and her political campaign. 

"You know, you really could be doing more for the city," she says, her voice insistent. "Your family has a history of philanthropy, but as far as I can tell, you're not doing anything. If I'm elected, I want to change that." She smiles at him, disarmingly, as they approach the front where the choir's soft voices swell into the haunting strains of Schubert's "Ave Maria."

Bruce's eyes scan the crowd with mounting urgency. 

Where the hell is she?

The hum of voices around him dulls, retreating into the background like static. Every sound—Bella's steady voice beside him, the faint rustle of clothing, the shuffling of mourners—becomes meaningless noise as his focus sharpens.

Maryam. She's somewhere here. She has to be.

His thoughts churn restlessly, consumed by her. The weight of the mayor's memorial, the riddler, the tragedy unfolding in the city, even Bella's pointed comments—all of it fades under the single, gnawing question: Where is she?

Bruce catches himself glancing toward Commissioner Gordon, standing a few rows back with a group of officers. The commissioner's stance is familiar—steadfast, commanding attention even in a room filled with grief. It's then that Bruce sees her.

Maryam.

She's standing with Gordon and several other officers. The sight of her feels like a gut punch—unexpected, leaving him momentarily breathless. Her body language is composed, steady, a quiet confidence radiating from her even in the chaos surrounding them.

He leans forward almost instinctively, the world narrowing to her. Bella's voice beside him is an indistinct murmur, her words about Gotham and its future dissipating like smoke. He knows she's talking, but he can't bring himself to care. Not now.

Maryam's voice carries faintly across the room as she speaks to Gordon, her words too low for him to hear. He can't make out the conversation, but the cadence of her tone is calm, deliberate. His gaze is riveted on her, heart pounding as a dozen questions flood his mind. What is she saying? Why is she here?

His chest tightens.

"I'll be right back," Bella says, her clipped tone cutting through the haze. "I'm going to pay my respects to the family—my God, what a mess. His poor wife and son..." She gives Bruce a tight smile before stepping away, her presence swallowed by the crowd.

Bruce doesn't respond. He simply just can't.

His gaze stays fixed on Maryam as her posture shifts slightly. Then her head turns, as if sensing his pointed stare, and for a brief, electric moment, their eyes meet again.

But just as quickly, her gaze shifts away.

It's subtle—an almost imperceptible flicker—but Bruce catches it. The way her shoulders tense, the slight stiffness in her movements as she excuses herself from Gordon's side. Her grace remains intact, but her steps quicken, purposeful as she weaves into the sea of mourners. Her eyes never meet his again.

Damn it.

A knot tightens in Bruce's chest, frustration simmering just beneath his composed exterior. He doesn't move, doesn't follow. Instead, he watches—watches as she retreats toward the mayor's family, where her own relatives, draped in mourning veils, are already offering their condolences.

Bruce's gaze sharpens, narrowing in on Maryam as she approaches Mayor Mitchell's widow. She shakes the woman's hand, her expression one of measured compassion. The two veiled women beside her—familiar figures—draw her attention briefly. Aunts, Bruce realizes. He remembers them from fragments of the life he's pieced together about her, though they remain enigmatic, like so much else about Maryam.

The mayor's son, sitting nearby, draws her focus next. The boy is small, his posture hunched, his eyes wide with confusion and sorrow as he glances at the crowd around him. His presence pulls at something deep within Bruce—his own memories of being that child, lost and surrounded by adults who didn't understand the weight he carried.

And then, Maryam kneels.

The movement is fluid, gentle, as if lowering herself to the boy's level is the most natural thing in the world. Her face softens, her gaze meeting his with a warmth that Bruce has rarely seen in her. She reaches into her small clutch and withdraws something—a figurine. It's a knight, unassuming yet deliberate, its presence more meaningful than its simplicity suggests.

Maryam presses it into the boy's hands, her fingers folding his small ones around it. She leans in, whispering something inaudible, her voice undoubtedly soft and soothing. Bruce can't hear her words, but he sees the boy's expression shift—hesitation giving way to a tentative smile as he clutches the figurine tightly to his chest.

Then, with a touch so gentle it nearly unravels him, Maryam cups the boy's cheek. Her thumb brushes across his skin, a gesture of quiet reassurance, maternal and heartbreakingly tender. The boy leans into her touch, his grief momentarily eclipsed by the comfort she offers.

Bruce's breath catches. He's transfixed, unable to reconcile this Maryam—the one kneeling before a grieving child, radiating care and warmth—with the guarded woman he's come to know. This side of her is foreign yet achingly familiar, stirring something he can't quite place.

The haunting strains of Ave Maria swell around them, the choir's mournful melody filling the air with a weight that presses on Bruce's chest. The music mirrors the scene before him, amplifying the emotions he tries so hard to suppress.

His trance is broken by a familiar voice, low and urgent. "Gil Colson is missing."

Bruce's focus snaps back, his head turning sharply. Gordon stands nearby, speaking in hushed tones to Mackenzie, the Chief of Police. Bruce's mind stirs, the name registering like a cold gust of wind.

"'Scuse me, Chief? Can I talk to you for a moment?" Gordon's voice is measured, his tone low as he adjusts the rims of his glasses.

The Chief of Police, Mackenzie, looks up with a gravelly whisper of a voice, as if his vocal cords have been worn thin. "What?"

"Gil Colson is missing," Gordon replies, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

The Chief exhales heavily, his tired demeanor speaking volumes. "Jesus, not again."

The phrase lingers like a shadow, and Bruce feels the significance of it. The District Attorney's name slices through his thoughts, momentarily grounding him in the reality of the situation.

"He hasn't been heard from since last night," Gordon continues, his voice steady but grim.

Bruce's mind starts turning, the implications of Colson's disappearance settling into place. But before he can focus, a voice—loud and jarringly cheerful—breaks through the somber atmosphere.

"Hey! Bruce Wayne!"

It's Martinez, one of the officers standing nearby.

He's grinning broadly, his enthusiasm so out of place it draws several curious looks. As if to cement the awkwardness, he raises his hand in an overly eager wave.

The billionaire heir remains motionless, his expression an impenetrable mask. He doesn’t respond to the greeting, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead, his gaze shifts, drawn inevitably back to Maryam, who now lingers on the outskirts of the mayor's grieving family, her presence both distant and watchful.

It’s a subtle shift, but Bruce notices.

Something about her stance, the tension in her frame, feels different—like a thread pulled taut, on the verge of snapping.

The way her posture stiffens, her sharp glance toward him at Martinez's outburst, and that fleeting flicker of recognition in her eyes before she looks away.

It's deliberate, calculated—she's retreating, pulling herself into an impenetrable shell.

But before he can dwell on it, a distant noise cuts through the air—a low hum, like tires screeching against asphalt, followed by muffled screams. The sound grows louder, reverberating through City Hall, and a ripple of unease spreads through the room. Heads turn, people standing, craning to see where the commotion is coming from.

Bruce instinctively scans the crowd, his eyes locking on the mayor's young son. The boy has moved into the aisle, drawn by curiosity, and Bruce's heart lurches. Maryam is there too, close behind, her brows furrowed in concern. She places a firm hand on the boy's arm to keep him from venturing too far. Her protectiveness is palpable.

The noise swells, screams rising alongside it—an awful crescendo of chaos.

Then—BAM!

A sickening explosion of sound as the main entrance bursts apart in a storm of shattered glass and concrete. The crowd screams as an SUV rockets through the doors, its grill tangled with flowers from the vigil outside.

Pandemonium erupts.

People scatter, some thrown into the air as the vehicle careens past guardrails and barrels toward the seated area. The air is a cacophony of panic, footsteps, and cries.

Bruce spins, his gaze zeroing in on the boy—standing frozen in shock amid the chaos. Maryam reacts instantly, grabbing him and pushing him toward his mother, who is screaming and clawing her way through the crowd to reach her son.

But Maryam doesn't make it far. Someone shoves past her in their desperate flight, and she stumbles, falling directly into the SUV's path.

Bruce doesn't hesitate. He lunges toward her, his body moving before his mind can catch up. He tackles her, the force sending them both sprawling just as the vehicle roars past, its weight and momentum tossing chairs and debris into the air.

They hit the ground hard, Bruce shielding Maryam as the SUV slams into the central staircase with a deafening crunch. The engine sputters, grinding in protest, before finally going silent.

For a moment, everything is still.

Bruce lifts himself slightly, his arms still bracing Maryam. She's breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling against his. Her hands clutch his biceps tightly, as if grounding herself.

"Maryam," he whispers, his voice low, urgent. One hand moves to her neck, tilting her face toward him. Her hazel eyes flutter open, dazed and unfocused. His sharp, grey eyes meet hers, scanning her face for injuries. He spots a thin trail of blood on her forehead, likely from flying glass.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, concern etched into every word.

She doesn't respond immediately, still catching her breath.

But then—the surreal silence is shattered by screams and cries. The chaos hasn't abated; if anything, it's worse.

Bruce's head snaps up, his gaze darting to the wreckage.

He helps Maryam sit upright, though he keeps a steadying hand on her arm. His attention shifts to the second-floor landing, where people are panicking, pointing to something—or someone. But the figure he saw earlier is gone.

The SUV below is now surrounded by Gordon and a squad of officers, their guns drawn and aimed. The vehicle is smeared with a grotesque pattern of crossword-like scrawls, and in bold letters across the hood, the chilling message: "D.A. — D.O.A.?"

Bruce pulls Maryam to her feet, his arm steadying her as the chaos swirls around them.

Her breathing evens out, and she seems to recover, though she's still pale.

Before he can speak, a red-haired woman pushes through the crowd, her resemblance to Maryam striking. Her sister, Bruce assumes.

She rushes to Maryam, worry etched deeply into her face, pulling her away from him as though he were the cause of her distress.

Questions spill from her lips one after another, but Maryam doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at her sister—instead, her gaze remains fixed on him, her lips forming a silent thank you.

Bruce gives a tight nod, his jaw clenched as he lets her go.

He watches as she steps back into the embrace of her family, their presence closing around her like a shield.

But his mind remains sharp, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders. His gaze shifts to the wreckage once more, the grim message burning into his thoughts.

He snaps his attention back to the SUV, his instincts flaring. He moves closer, slipping through the panicked crowd as mourners scatter in every direction. His focus sharpens, each step deliberate, his heart pounding in time with the chaos around him.

Then, with a metallic creak, the dented driver-side door begins to crack open.

The hall falls into a tense, electric silence, broken only by the metallic clicks and clatters of dozens of weapons chambering simultaneously.

"Get out of the car! Hands up!" Gordon shouts, his gun unwavering, his voice cutting through the mounting dread.

The door swings wide, groaning under its weight.

A figure emerges—unsteady, hands trembling in the air. Blood streaks the man's face, his mouth taped shut. Scrawled across the tape in bold, jagged letters are the words: NO MORE LIES.

The sight freezes the room.

Even Bruce's breath catches for a split second.

"Holy Christ..." Gordon breathes, his voice low, filled with disbelief. "It's Colson."

The district attorney stumbles forward, his eyes wide with terror.

Around his neck, a crude metal collar clamps tight, its grotesque machinery catching the flickering lights. A faint glow pulses ominously—a countdown device.

A horrified voice cuts through the tension.

"There's a bomb around his neck!"

The words send a shockwave through the hall. A piercing, mechanical beep-beep-beep rings out, sharp and relentless.

People scream, dropping to the floor or shoving toward the exits. Police scramble, some shielding others, their shouts blending with the chaos.

But Bruce remains rooted in place, his gaze locked on Colson.

The D.A. doesn't explode. Not yet. The incessant beeping continues, but the device stays dormant. The confusion in the air is palpable, suffocating.

Colson, his movements awkward and sheepish, raises his hand slowly. Taped to his palm is a cell phone, its screen flashing. The relentless beep-beep-beep is nothing more than an incoming call.

Bruce's eyes narrow as the sound echoes through the cavernous space.

"Let's get this place cleared! Now!" Gordon barks, waving officers toward the panicked crowd.

Police start ushering people toward the exits, their movements hurried, their voices commanding.

But Bruce doesn't move.

Something pulls at him—an invisible thread of dread, tightening.

He notices it then, taped crudely to Colson's chest. A folded card, the edges weathered, but the lettering meticulously printed.

The billionaire steps closer, his focus narrowing, his heart heavy with grim certainty.

The card's bold address reads: To The Batman.

previous chapter | next

[luffyvace]

Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto twin reader

These are for my good friend irl :) ENJOY!!

btw this is written with fem! Reader in mind. Yes I will likely do a male reader version dw 💗 (i don’t think it’ll have shoto twin reader)

So bakugo in a relationship huh? Not the first thing I’d think he’s into but hey, it’s already happened now! 🤷‍♀️

About kats and todo’s beef tho….

at the beginning I mean

katsuki isn’t the type of person to lump people in with your siblings or wtv

buttttt if you and shoto are similar/have similar personalities or interests he might somewhat dislike you at first

if not he doesn’t mind

but it’d especially tick him off if you and todo gang up on him in fights/arguments

but again he decides his opinion of you based off what you show him him or how you present yourself

which is why he didn’t remember most people’s names at the beginning of the show

bc he didn’t have anything to remember them by-

he may come up to you on some sunny callin you icy hot 2.0 n stuff but if you assert your dominance and show him you deserve respect then he lets go of that quickly

not out of fear but because katsuki doesn’t really pick on the people he respects

best jeanist is a great example of what I mean!

if your relation to todo is really similar however

he might find you a bit more annoying at first

he just thinks of you as the off brand version of todoroki until you give him a reason to respect you 😗

Although if your talking more mature kats when it’s like s4 around then he’s more likely to view you as your own person first time around

he also doesn’t do any of that crap anymore and doesn’t mind that you and todo are twins

he used to always mutter ‘your wretched brother’ this and that

but he cut that out

i mean unless you nipped it in the bun back then 🤪

and to do that you likely have to humble him

So after that phase is over nicknames can range from a shorter version of your name to aliases he/people have given you

like how shoto’s quirk is hot/cold so he calls him icy hot

But whatever he comes up with for you isn’t said with a bad intent by him, of course

And w/ cooking you already know his is FIRE 🔥🔥💥💥

like it’s canon this man can cook like 💃💃🕺👯‍♀️👯‍♀️

(that’s you dancing bc his food’s so good)

GET YOU A MAN LIKE KATSUKI. GET YOU A MAN THAT CAN COOK. 💥💥💥

he be using all types of seasoning so you KNOW it ain’t dry

especially if your a spicy food lover

like I feel he genuinely doesn’t get people who doesn’t like spicy food

he may think your a bit of a wimp..🤓

If you inherited endeavor’s fire quirk he finds it useful that you can lite his barbecues or make fire for cooking in the woods for example

he still heated that explosions don’t work 🤦‍♀️

but ngl he’d rather you than shoto sooo..🤷‍♀️

For love languages his is quality time, acts of service and a bit of gift giving

with quality time he likes to ice skate with you since (if you inherited the ice quirk) you can withstand the cold

He’d try to impress you by saying he’s not that cold (even with a coat on) but he actually is

why would he admit that tho

he’s actually cold don’t torture him by staying longer than you need to

(or do I ain’t gonna judge 😂)

kats likes challenges because it makes him feel accomplished once he completed them

So he likes to do freezer challenges!!

(basically it’s this challenge where you go into a walk in freezer and see who can last the longest—don’t try this at home I’ve only seen this on YouTube and idk if that’s the actual name)

and of course your immune to the cold so it’s easy for you

so if he beats you it’ll make him feel proud

don’t think that just bc your his girlfriend he doesn’t compete with you

there’s no way he’s seeing an opportunity to become the number 1 hero and not taking it to let his girlfriend be happy

don’t blame him who would……

when you first get into your relationship things might be a little awkward and you may or may not be a little intimidated by him

which if you are he feels sorta bad and he doesn’t want you to be

he doesn’t want people he cares about to think he’s some monster

if you were just come class b rubbish what does he care what you think?

but your his girlfriend and probably his first of course he cares what you think of him!

you likely address this early because he doesn’t like the feeling it gives him

so no worries :)

if you were never intimidated by him tho

its probably just awkward silence..

even more so if you were as aloof as todo was back in the first season

or if your just a quiet/socially awkward person

kats isn’t awkward he just doesn’t really know what to say either..

deeper in relationship tho!!

things are a lot less tense and more casual

a thing you do a lot is kinda just be sprawled in bed together doing your own thing

not necessarily cuddling but your both just comfy

you guys have picked up on your couple routines and habits and what not

so things have definitely smoothed over

thankfully

with baths kats prefers not to take them together

like he just doesn’t see the point

and it’s prob quicker separately

yeah no he’s not doing it

if you’ve been together for years by now, however

he might let you wash his hair

only cuz he likes the way you scrub/scratch his scalp

its relaxing

he still doesn’t wanna do it all the time tho

You two def always work out together

so at least that

he always makes sure you pack everything before going to train/work out

he’s more meticulous than you know and it annoys him when one of you forget something

“it’s fine katsuki just leave it!”

”no I’ll just go run and get it it’s fine!”

you might as well wait bc he just has to have this one thing

idk why

you guys take a good amount of water breaks and such but you go really hard core while your at it

He’s probably either silent or a yelling motivator..no in between

Your friends lowkey ship you guys

and tease you

mina tries to get you to do pranks on katsuki

mostly bc she gets more backlash if she does it

LOL

like little stupid pranks like drawing on his face or acting like your cheating 😊

THATS NOT A LITTLE PRANK BUT SHE TRIES TO CONVINCE YOU ANYWAY-

“give in to peer pressure!” >:(

Dont katsuki will explode

LITTERALLY-

ok my bad but I just had to put at least one bad joke in there..

💥💥

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!

I had fun writing this and it didn’t take long at all :)

[waywardsou2]

do you have any headcanons for Tech? he’s my favorite ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Why yes I do, I have been thinking about him a lot lately tbh

Tech Head Canons

I think that Tech often snuck down the holding bay where all the ships were docked to be checked in by the maintenance teams and would help his brothers with repairing the ships. He would sneak down at night when he was supposed to be sleeping. At first the Clones reprimanded him for his being insubordinate but when they realised how helpful he could be they let him stay. Not only did he know more about the ships than all of them combined he could get too harder to reach areas by climbing through the ships internal vent system or could stand on their shoulders.

Tech's hair was a little bit longer when he was younger but when he got out into the field and had a few incidences with his hair being pulled he decided it was better to keep it shorter.

Techs CT number is 9902 so depending on which way you look at it that would make him the second oldest under Hunter, but I like to think that he actually shares that title with Crosshair, I like the head canon that him and Crosshair are twins in some capacity.

I head canon that Tech is autistic (it's more or less canon, he is so autistic coded) and one of his worst issues with being autistic is touch. He hates having to touch foreign things or have people and other things touch him. He prefers touching technology because he knows what that feels like, he can gauge from memory how its going to feel, it's not squishy or wet or itchy.

I also think that the big disks on the side of his helmet are actually noise cancelling, sometimes he gets over stimulated on the battlefield and he needs to filter out the noise. He personally made and customized his helmet this way, this is so he won't be taken unawares in battles but he can still be useful with the auditory overload.

That's all for now but I'm sure I'll think of some more in the future. And tell me about your head canons for our beloved Tech in the comments.